The corridor leading to the briefing room was so quiet, I could practically hear my own thoughts—which, considering the chaos up there lately, wasn't exactly comforting. My team walked behind me, the earlier jokes and banter fading into the kind of silence you get right before a massive storm. You know the one—it's all tension and doom vibes, like the universe is holding its breath, waiting to see how spectacularly we mess up.
We turned the corner, and bam! There they were. The Dream Team in all their stubborn glory. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins were camped out like they'd been planning this ambush for days. Honestly, knowing Hermione, they probably had a detailed chart and a timeline for when to strike.
Hermione, of course, took center stage. Arms crossed, lips pursed, her whole Hermione Granger patented "I am very disappointed in you" energy turned up to eleven. Ron looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but was standing firm, which, let's be honest, is kind of his whole vibe. Ginny? Oh, Ginny was giving me that "don't you dare underestimate me" look, hands on her hips like she was ready to duel me right there. And Fred and George? They were grinning like they'd just found out Snape's robes had been replaced with a tutu.
I sighed. "Okay, I know that look," I started, raising my hands like a guy trying to talk his way out of a speeding ticket. "What do you want?"
Hermione stepped forward. "Harry. James. Potter." She said my name like it was a curse. Or worse—like I was about to get a full-on lecture. "We need to talk."
Oh, no. Not the full-name treatment. This was bad. "Hermione, if this is about how dangerous this mission is—"
"Of course it's about how dangerous this mission is!" she snapped, cutting me off with a glare so intense I nearly took a step back. "You think you can just go off, face Deathstroke, and leave us behind like we're some expendable side characters in your epic hero story?"
"Expendable—what?" I blinked, completely thrown off.
"You heard me!" She was on a roll now, pacing a little as she spoke, her tone picking up speed like a runaway train. "We've been through trolls, basilisks, dragons, and—oh, let's not forget—the literal war. You trusted us then, Harry. Why is this any different?"
"Because this isn't Hogwarts anymore!" I argued. "This is the big leagues, Hermione. Deathstroke isn't playing around, and neither is Talia."
"And neither are we," Ginny interjected, her voice calm but laced with steel. "We're not kids anymore, Harry. You don't get to make this decision for us."
"Ginny, you've done great on patrols, but this—"
"This is exactly what we've been training for," she interrupted, stepping closer. "Don't patronize me, Harry. I'm not some damsel waiting for you to play the hero."
"She's got a point," Ron chimed in, his voice surprisingly firm. "You know we can handle ourselves, mate. Or have you forgotten all the times we've saved your neck?"
"Ron," I started, but Hermione jumped back in before I could get a word out.
"You're worried," she said, her tone softening just enough to make me feel like a total jerk. "I get it. But we're a team. You don't get to decide this for us."
Before I could respond, Fred and George, who had been suspiciously quiet, decided it was their time to shine.
"You know," Fred said, leaning casually against the wall, "we are excellent at making an entrance."
"And an exit," George added, inspecting his wand like this was all a casual chat about Quidditch. "Should things get... dicey."
"Portable swamp, anyone?" Fred suggested, grinning. "Could really slow down Deathstroke. And bonus: hilarious."
"Guys, this isn't a joke!" I snapped, glaring at them.
"Who's joking?" George said, looking offended. "Portable swamps are very effective. Just ask Umbridge."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay, enough. Hermione, I appreciate your concern, but—"
"No buts, Harry," she cut me off again, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're coming with you. And that's final."
"Yeah," Ron added with a shrug. "You can either argue with us all day, or you can just accept it and move on. Your call, mate."
Ginny stepped forward again, her voice soft but unwavering. "We're with you, Harry. Always. Whether you like it or not."
I looked at them—really looked at them. Hermione, with her unshakable determination. Ron, stubborn and loyal to a fault. Ginny, fiery and fearless. And Fred and George, who were probably already planning some wildly inappropriate prank for after the mission. They were right. I hated it, but they were right.
"Fine," I said, throwing my hands up in defeat. "But you follow my lead. And if I say pull back, you pull back. Got it?"
They all nodded, though Fred and George's grins widened.
"Scout's honor," Fred said, raising a hand.
"Wouldn't dream of disobeying, oh fearless leader," George added with a mock salute.
"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" I muttered.
As we headed to the briefing room, Conner fell into step beside me, smirking. "Your friends are... intense."
"You have no idea," I said, shaking my head. But despite the exasperation, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of relief. If I was going to face Deathstroke, at least I wouldn't be doing it alone.
—
The heavy metallic door slid open with a groan, and I couldn't help but feel a little dramatic as I stepped into the briefing room. You know, like one of those action heroes who strolls in at just the right moment, right as the tension hits a boiling point. I was fully expecting dramatic music, but instead, I was met with the sound of Sirius Black throwing money in the air and grinning like a madman.
"Ah, there he is!" Sirius called out, practically kicking his feet up on the table in his signature lounge-about pose. He was holding a thick wad of cash, looking far too pleased with himself. Honestly, I should've known something was off the minute I saw him looking so relaxed.
Remus Lupin was seated beside him, of course, smirking in that way that said he was in on the joke and I wasn't. Thanks a lot, guys.
"You bet against me, didn't you?" I asked, my voice flat as I glanced at Sirius.
"Hey, I'm just here to support you, kid," he grinned. "And place a little wager to keep things interesting. You're what, five minutes away from caving? Classic Harry move."
"Oh, you didn't," I muttered, shaking my head.
He threw a couple bills in the air like they were confetti at a parade. "I had faith in you," he said, winking. "But Remus here—" he tossed a look at the guy next to him, "—thought you might pull a 'Batman' and lock them out. Deedee, though?" He looked over at her.
Deedee—aka, Death—was standing near the table, arms crossed in her signature casual, "I'm-totally-not-dangerous" stance. She had the vibe of someone who probably skipped a few too many therapy sessions, wore too much eyeliner, and had never been asked to leave a party. She was wearing a hoodie that had "Death is inevitable" scrawled on the back, which felt a bit too on-brand.
She looked over at Remus. "You guys really thought Harry was going to turn into Batman 2.0?" she deadpanned. "It's Harry. He's too soft for that."
"Hey, I can be like Batman!" I protested, crossing my arms.
Deedee just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Let me know when you manage to stay broody long enough for it to count."
I was about to retort when Talia Al Ghul—who, of course, was standing there, looking like a million bucks but definitely a million deadlier—finally spoke, her voice silky, measured. "Can we get on with it? I've got better things to do than watch Sirius lose money."
That was it. No 'hello', no 'nice to see you, Harry.' Just a reminder that she could literally kill me with a look. Love her.
She glanced at the holographic map Robin was working on, then back at us with that cold, calculating gaze. "We move fast, and we move clean. No more distractions, understood?"
"Understood," I muttered. Honestly, I was kind of glad someone here was taking things seriously.
Hermione cleared her throat then, arms crossed and brows furrowed, like she was having a very internal debate about whether she wanted to punch me or lecture me. "Sirius is right," she began, her voice tense. "You've got to think this through, Harry. It's not just about—"
I raised my hand. "Not now, Hermione. Please. I'm trying to get through this without ending up in a full-blown lecture."
"Alright," Ron chimed in, arms crossed too, looking like he was preparing for a war of words. "But Hermione's right. We've got to get all hands on deck if we're going up against Deathstroke."
Ginny, being Ginny, didn't waste any time. She glanced up from her tablet, smirked, and dropped the one line that would make me feel it. "Yeah, you're just mad 'cause you lost the argument, Harry."
"I didn't lose the argument," I groaned, rubbing my temples. "I was pressured into agreeing."
Fred and George, always ready to stir the pot, exchanged a look and leaned in together. "Well, we could always—"
"Blow things up?" I interrupted, already preemptively raising a finger to stop them. "If you two even think about it—"
Fred put on his most innocent face. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Not even a little bit," George added, with a wink.
I swear, the headache was already on its way.
Robin, who had been glued to the wall while plotting something far more productive than I could ever manage, finally spoke up. His voice was sharp and commanding. "Alright, team. Deathstroke's lair is locked down like Fort Knox. We need to disable their perimeter security without making a scene and get in fast. I've got the blueprints here."
He flicked a switch, and a hologram of Deathstroke's lair expanded in front of us. Robin's finger tapped a section on the map. "Here's the entry point," he said. "And this—" he pointed to a heavily fortified area deeper inside, "—is where Deathstroke's holed up. We get in there and take him down, no mess, no noise."
Wally, the ever-enthusiastic speedster, flashed a grin. "Sounds like a challenge. Sneak in, take him down, leave without anyone knowing we were there? Yeah, that's my kind of mission."
Artemis, always the voice of reason in the group, shot him a dry look. "Some of us prefer 'low-key' missions where we don't die."
Miss Martian, sitting next to Artemis with her usual calm demeanor, glanced at the blueprints, her green skin glowing softly against the map's light. "We can't afford to underestimate him," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "He has resources we haven't dealt with before."
"Agreed," Robin said, his eyes narrowing with purpose. "But with our skills combined, we've got the element of surprise on our side. That's our advantage."
I nodded, feeling the weight of everything clicking into place. "Alright, we do this step-by-step. Once we're in, we move fast. No hesitation. Got it?"
Sirius gave a lopsided grin, looking over at Remus and Deedee, who were already gleefully preparing to watch everything unfold. "I think we're in for a good show, lads."
Deedee winked. "Oh, you have no idea. I'm bringing the chaos. You just bring the snacks."
—
The hangar was alive with that kind of buzz you only get when something's about to go down—big, explosive, and potentially world-ending. You could practically feel the electricity in the air, or maybe that was just me, getting all hyped up. Either way, this wasn't your average Saturday afternoon, grab-a-sandwich-and-go type of mission. No, this was something serious.
I looked around at the team, each one of them suited up and looking like they just stepped out of a comic book—or more accurately, a warzone—ready to take on whatever insanity was coming our way. And trust me, knowing this crew, it was going to be insane.
First up, Ginny Weasley. In her Firebolt armor, she looked like a fiery comet ready to burn through the skies. The red-and-gold Ukrainian Ironbelly silk fit her like a second skin, sleek and deadly. Her broom—My Firebolt—was right beside her, gleaming like it was itching for a chance to fly. She flashed me a grin that was pure mischief.
"You sure you're ready for this, Harry?" she asked, spinning the Firebolt like it was some kind of toy. "Because I'm about to scorch the skies, and I don't think you're prepared for that."
I raised an eyebrow. "I've never been more ready, Gin. You just try not to break the sound barrier too soon, yeah?"
Ron Weasley, my very own personal wrecking ball, was next to Ginny. His suit—black and fiery orange—made him look like he was ready to crash into something big and not care about the consequences. I knew Ron, though. He was the kind of guy who didn't just smash things—he did it with flair.
"Don't go turning into a crispy bacon, alright?" Ron said, his fingers twitching over his suit's control panel like he was about to blow something up on accident. "I'm not really in the mood for a barbecue."
"Noted, Ron." I couldn't help but grin at him. "But you know, 'accidental explosions' are kind of your thing."
Fred and George, of course, were already making trouble. They were practically vibrating with excitement in their Marauder gear—black and red—like they were ready to turn this mission into their own personal circus.
Fred nudged me, his grin full of devilish glee. "You sure you want to do this, Harry? We've got a whole arsenal of fun surprises ready to go."
"You say 'fun,'" George chimed in, raising an eyebrow, "but we're thinking of it more as 'necessary mayhem.' We all know how much you like that."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face. "Just no exploding fireworks this time, alright?"
"Cross our hearts," Fred said, with mock sincerity, raising his hand. "Just the essentials."
Hermione Granger stood nearby, her Arcana armor glinting like the night sky. The deep blue with flecks of stars, the Ukrainian Ironbelly silk shimmering like it was made for magic. She was focused—way too focused for someone about to take on a mission where chaos was practically the second-in-command.
"We have a plan, right?" Hermione asked, sounding like she'd already solved every possible outcome of this mission in her head. "Because, and I'm just putting this out there, winging it is never a good strategy."
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do we ever have a proper plan?"
"Since now," she said, her eyes narrowing in that way she did when she was not playing around. "I'm not letting this turn into one of your 'adventures' where we dodge random explosions for fun."
"Fair enough," I said with a grin. "But you know you secretly love the chaos."
She shot me a look that could've frozen lava. "I'm just saying, let's skip the explosions part this time. For once."
Just then, Artemis stepped forward—lean, deadly, and sharp as a knife. Her suit, dark and sleek, hugged her body like it was built for precision. No nonsense. No distractions. She didn't speak much, but when she did, it was always straight to the point.
"We don't need chaos. We need precision. I don't miss," she said, locking eyes with me. "And neither should you."
"I don't plan on missing," I said, meeting her gaze. "We've got this, Artemis."
"Good," she said, nodding once, and I could practically hear her mentally calculating the perfect angle for a perfect shot.
Then Kid Flash appeared in a blur of golden lightning. Seriously, if he were any more energetic, he'd be a hyperactive puppy. His suit, glowing bright with electricity, practically hummed with the power of a thousand volts. He flashed me a thumbs-up that was probably faster than the speed of sound.
"Ready to race?" he asked, already vibrating with excitement. "Or are we taking the slow route today?"
"Wally, you're as subtle as a wrecking ball," I said with a grin. "But yeah, I know you've got our backs."
"You bet I do!" he said, already zipping around like he had a personal mission to break the sound barrier. "Just don't fall behind!"
Superboy was just standing there, looking like a brick wall in armor. I swear, the guy's presence alone could knock you out. His expression was serious, but that didn't surprise me—he was always serious. He glanced over at me, his arms crossed.
"This isn't a time for hesitation," he said, his voice low and steady. "You lead. We follow."
"Got it, Conner," I said, giving him a nod. "No hesitation. We move together."
Miss Martian hovered next to him, green skin shimmering under her armor like it was made of stardust. She was always calm, like she was operating on a different frequency than the rest of us. But her smile—genuine and warm—made everything feel like it was going to be alright.
"We'll handle the details," she said softly. "You focus on the big picture. We're all in this together."
Sirius Black—Grimm, as we called him—was leaning against the wall like the world's most brooding shadow. His armor was sleek, dark, and radiated a certain 'don't-mess-with-me' vibe. I could practically hear him cracking jokes in his head, though his face was all business. As I passed by, he gave me a grin that was pure wickedness.
"Don't get too cocky, Harry," he said, voice low and teasing. "You've got me watching your back. We both know how this is going to end—spectacularly."
"Yeah, because you're definitely the subtle one here," I muttered.
"Subtle's overrated," he said with a shrug. "I prefer blow-things-up-and-see-what-happens."
Talia al Ghul was standing at the back, as usual. Quiet. Deadly. Like a shadow. In her black-and-gold armor, she looked like someone who could end you before you even knew she was there. She didn't speak much—ever—but when she did, you listened.
"Keep your emotions in check," she said, her voice sharp. "Focus. This isn't just a battle; it's a mission."
"I'll keep my cool, Talia," I said, giving her a brief nod.
She didn't nod back. She didn't need to. Talia wasn't the type to waste words. But I knew her. She'd keep the team grounded when the world started spinning out of control.
Finally, I glanced up at the control room. Remus Lupin was there, looking like the picture of calm in the middle of all this chaos. He was running through the final checks, making sure everything was in place.
"Everything's clear, Harry," he said, his voice steady. "You know the drill. Don't get yourselves killed."
"Nice to know you have so much faith in us," I replied, a grin tugging at my lips. "But don't worry, Remus. We'll be fine."
Just then, Deedee's voice crackled through the comms, full of her usual mischief. "Remember, Harry, we've got your back. Literally. I've already set up some fun tech for you. So, whenever you're ready to push the button, just know you'll get the biggest boom possible."
"Leave it to you to have all the toys ready," I said with a grin. "Just try not to blow up the wrong things, alright?"
She laughed. "No promises."
I took one last look at my team—my family—all gathered, all ready. We weren't just a team. We were a unit. And together, we'd take on anything.
With that, I slid into the cockpit, adjusted my Shadowflame Armor one last time—black with red accents, the crimson gem on my chest glowing—and sat down.
"Let's make history," I muttered, fingers hovering over the controls.
"Don't forget the snacks, Harry!" Sirius called out from behind.
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning like an idiot. With this crew, we were going to destroy this mission. It was time to show the world what we were made of.
—
We started to move toward the launch bay, the sound of the engines revving up and the whirring of the machinery as it powered up. As I walked past the team, I could feel the anticipation humming in the air—everyone was ready. We'd done this a hundred times before, but there was something different about today. This wasn't just a mission. It was a statement.
And boy, was the statement about to be loud.
The ship—if you could even call it that—was something else. Miss Martian's bioship wasn't just a mode of transportation; it was a living, breathing vessel made of some strange, organic material that pulsed like it had a heartbeat. It was sleek and aerodynamic, curved like a manta ray with the ability to change shape at a moment's notice, but it looked like it could melt through concrete if it needed to.
I could practically hear it groan with the vibrations of our collective energy, like it knew what was coming. It wasn't the first time we'd been in it, but damn, every time I stepped into it, I had to stop myself from geeking out. The whole thing was organic, biotechnological, and a little bit terrifying.
"Nice to see you're still amazed by it, Harry," Wally said, zipping around me in a blur of lightning. "You've flown in this thing, like, what, a dozen times?"
"Yeah, but every time it's like... being in a sci-fi movie," I said, grinning. "I swear, I half-expect aliens to jump out of the walls and start asking me to sign autographs."
"I'd be more worried about it turning into a spaceship and flying off," Ron said, looking up at the hull like it might sprout wings. "Do you even know how this thing works? Because the way I see it, it's way too pretty to be functional."
Miss Martian's smile could've melted steel. "I assure you, Ron, it works perfectly. And it's more than just 'pretty.'"
"Alright, alright," Fred interrupted, "We get it, it's beautiful and all. But I'm more concerned about the part where it doesn't blow up on us."
"Fred, if anyone's gonna blow up, it'll be you," I shot back, adjusting my seat in the cockpit. "We've got our own built-in fail-safes, remember?"
"You say that like we haven't had plenty of close calls," Fred said, grinning like a madman. "But hey, no worries. We've got the best in the business onboard—no one's gonna get blown up today." He turned to George. "Right?"
"Right," George agreed, though there was something in his tone that made me wonder if he had a backup plan in place that I didn't know about.
Miss Martian stepped into the ship, the console flashing as it recognized her presence. The entire interior came alive, responding to her touch with almost eerie precision. The soft hum of the ship's systems kicked into gear as she set the ship on a course for our destination, her expression calm and steady. Despite the chaos and jokes that were flying, she always had this kind of serene focus about her.
"You're all clear," she said, nodding to me. "Just keep an eye on your six. We don't know what we'll be walking into, but I'm sure we'll be fine."
"Just don't let this thing take off without me, alright?" I joked as I adjusted the controls, my fingers dancing across the holographic interface in front of me. The ship responded immediately, a soft purr of power reverberating through my bones.
"Don't worry, Harry," Miss Martian said, her voice just a whisper over the comms. "I'm not about to leave you behind."
I could practically feel the ship's heartbeat through the seat, as it lurched to life and began to ascend from the hangar. The walls of the base seemed to fall away, and I couldn't help but glance out the viewport. We were moving at an insane speed, yet the ship remained as smooth and effortless as a dream. The air seemed to hum with potential, like we were about to unleash chaos of the most spectacular variety.
"This is it, team," I said, voice steady as I leaned into the controls, eyes glued to the rapidly approaching horizon. "Get ready for anything."
And with that, we blasted off into the unknown, flying toward the kind of madness only a team like ours could handle. Each of us had a role to play, but in the end, we were united by one thing: the belief that no matter how wild or dangerous it got, we'd make it through—together.
As we shot through the atmosphere, Wally zipped around us like a lightning bolt, and Ron grinned like the adrenaline was already kicking in. The rest of the team was eerily quiet, preparing for what was next. Miss Martian's calm presence in the cockpit was a grounding force as we entered the unknown.
"Here's hoping this mission doesn't involve too many explosions," Hermione muttered from behind me.
I just smirked. "Let's keep it to 'necessary' explosions, Hermione. We wouldn't want you getting bored."
"Bored? Please. I'll have to keep track of how many you cause," she shot back, but I could hear the faint amusement in her voice.
As we broke through the clouds and into the wild unknown, the ship was quiet except for the hum of its engines. But under that calm exterior, I knew—something big was coming. And we were ready for it.
—
The Bioship glided silently through the Gotham skies, the dark skyline of the Narrows growing closer by the second. The air was thick with tension, every member of the team brimming with anticipation as we approached the location.
Miss Martian sat in the cockpit, her green fingers dancing over the controls, a serene calm in her demeanor as the ship glided smoothly through the night. Her deep connection to the ship, the way she made it hum in perfect sync with her, always fascinated me. The bioship responded to her as if it were alive—malleable, adaptive. And now, it was about to turn invisible.
"Prepare for a smooth drop," Miss Martian's voice came through the comms, soft but steady. "Initiating cloaking now."
I watched, my eyes glued to the control panel as the shimmering outlines of the Bioship began to fade, melting into the shadows. In a few seconds, it was as if the ship had never existed—an eerie silence enveloping us as we floated through the Gotham night undetected.
"Thanks, M'gann," I muttered, tapping the controls in front of me as I readied myself. "Just make sure we stay unseen, yeah?"
"Always," she replied with a small smile, though I could hear the quiet power in her voice.
The comms buzzed again as Hermione's voice cut through the silence, her tone sharper than usual.
"Ginny, hold still," she said, her words laced with a touch of annoyance, though I knew she was just focusing. "I'm placing the Disillusionment Charm over you. This should keep you hidden while you're flying."
Ginny gave a loud huff, her broomstick already buzzing with energy. "I don't need to be hidden, Hermione," she protested. "I'm practically invisible on my own."
"Just trust me," Hermione replied, her words more authoritative. "I'm doing this so we don't make unnecessary noise. Now, stay still."
I looked at Ginny, who rolled her eyes but complied, letting Hermione work her magic. A soft shimmer surrounded her, the Disillusionment Charm wrapping around her like a veil. Ginny blinked, her broomstick now seemingly floating in mid-air with no rider to be seen. The only giveaway was the occasional rustle of air disturbed by her Firebolt's flight.
"Alright," Hermione said, satisfied with her work. "You're all set."
I nodded to Ginny as she gave me a thumbs-up, the outline of her broomstick now barely visible against the black night. She was like a ghost in the sky, ready for whatever came next.
I turned to the hatch beneath us, its surface now opening silently, revealing the dark depths of the Narrows below. The drop was coming fast, and adrenaline coursed through my veins like a live wire. I was ready for this—ready to leap into the unknown and let the fire in me do the rest.
"Ready when you are, Harry," Ginny's voice came through my earpiece. It was casual, but I could hear the excitement underneath.
Without another word, I jumped, my body hurtling into the air. The wind whipped around me, but I didn't feel it—not like this. Not with what I had.
In a split second, I unfurled my wings—the wings of flame. They burst into existence like a wildfire, roaring to life and spreading outward, a combination of heat and light that cut through the darkness. They crackled with energy, casting an eerie glow across the desolate streets of Gotham below. I shot downward, the fire in my wings propelling me faster than any broomstick could.
"Right behind you, mate!" Ron's voice buzzed through the comms, but I was already too far ahead to care.
Ginny, now fully invisible thanks to Hermione's charm, was a streak of gold against the pitch-black sky, her broom soaring next to me. I could just barely make out the shape of her Firebolt as she kept pace, gliding like she was born to fly.
Miss Martian's voice came through, steady and calm despite the chaos. "You're clear for the drop. We'll be right above you, maintaining visual contact."
I focused on the Narrows below. Gotham's heart of darkness. No time for hesitation. It was go time.
The ground approached rapidly. With a controlled sweep of my wings, I angled my descent, aiming for the rooftops of the Narrows, where our target was waiting.
Ginny, her broomstick now visibly streaking ahead of me, dipped into a dive. Her Firebolt hummed with power as she accelerated, tailing my descent and waiting for the moment we would both land. She was prepared to sweep the skies while I handled the ground. And together, we would own this.
The sound of rushing wind filled my ears as I hurtled downward, feeling the fire in my wings flicker and spark. My team was with me—above, behind, or in front—it didn't matter. They were all in.
With one last push, I ignited my wings, flaring them wide to slow my descent, sending a ripple of heat through the air.
"Here we go," I muttered under my breath, ready to make an entrance.
We hit the rooftops of Gotham's Narrows with precision.
---
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