Shadowflame

In the smoky haze of a dimly lit dive bar on the rougher side of Central City, Captain Cold and Heatwave were nursing their drinks while the other patrons—all criminals, outlaws, or at the very least, extremely shady characters—kept one eye on their beer and the other on the TV mounted on the wall. The whole bar had gone quiet, transfixed by the footage of the brutal battle happening over the coast.

Heatwave took a swig of his beer and leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "Is that… is that a dude with his hair on fire? Like, actual fire?" He let out a low whistle. "Now that's something you don't see every day."

Captain Cold, ever the unflappable strategist, narrowed his eyes, studying the flaming figure of Shadowflame as he battled Lobo alongside Supergirl, Starfire, Wonder Woman, and Superman. He was less impressed and more… intrigued. "That's Shadowflame. The new kid. Packs quite a punch from the looks of it."

Heatwave chuckled, setting his beer down with a thud. "That 'new kid' just roasted a guy who looks like he could bench-press a bus. And that's Lobo he's fighting, right? Ain't he, like, an intergalactic, can't-die bounty hunter?"

Cold nodded, his jaw tightening. "Yeah. The guy's almost impossible to put down. If Shadowflame's going toe-to-toe with him… might be worth keeping an eye on this one." His fingers drummed against his glass, thinking about the power dynamics shifting around the city—and the world, for that matter.

"Aw, c'mon, Snart," Heatwave grinned, elbowing his partner. "You telling me you're worried about some kid in a flaming suit? What's he gonna do, give us a tan?"

Cold shot him a look. "You don't get it, Mick. He's fighting alongside the Justice League, and if he's got this kind of power? We've gotta think big. Kid like that isn't just fire and flash; he could actually be dangerous. If he decides he wants to start cleaning up criminals like us, you and me, we're gonna have to rethink our whole operation."

Heatwave let out a gruff laugh, unfazed. "Hey, if he tries to torch me, I'll just bring the heat right back. That's my specialty, remember?" He held up his heat gun with a smirk.

Cold just shook his head, but his gaze stayed on the video playing on loop on the screen, his mind racing. "Maybe. But if he's powerful enough to keep Lobo occupied, then he's not just some rookie we can handle like the others."

As Supergirl's scream echoed from the TV, signaling the sickening crunch of her broken arm, the bar collectively winced. Heatwave went quiet, his smirk fading. "Well… that's gonna leave a mark."

Captain Cold took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes steely. "Yeah, it will. And if we're smart, we'll watch how this plays out. Because if this Shadowflame kid's the real deal, we're gonna have to step up our game… or get the hell out of his way."

—

In the heart of Poseidonis, Atlantis's shimmering capital, the Conservatory of Sorcery buzzed with anticipation as students and mentors gathered around a mystical viewing orb, watching the unfolding battle on the surface. Mareena's attention was fixated on the scene displayed, her heart thudding as she watched her best friend Kara, a.k.a. Supergirl, face off against Lobo alongside Starfire and Shadowflame. The moment Lobo struck and Kara's arm broke, Mareena inhaled sharply, her fists clenching. But before she could react, the orb flickered with an intense surge as Harry transformed, his fiery aura blazing brighter than ever. It was nothing short of a "Supernova," and the sheer force had even the seasoned Atlantean sorcerers murmuring in awe.

Aqualad, who stood beside Mareena, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, as if sensing the mix of admiration and worry radiating from her. "Harry can hold his own," he said reassuringly, though even he seemed somewhat mesmerized by Shadowflame's new transformation. Tula and Garth, also captivated by the spectacle, exchanged glances.

"I didn't think he had that kind of power," Garth murmured. "Not... like this."

Just then, Queen Mera entered the room, her presence commanding and regal. She raised an eyebrow at the captivated crowd, then turned her attention to the orb. Her sharp gaze swept over her daughter and the intensity in Mareena's expression.

"Mareena," she said, her voice calm but carrying a note of curiosity, "it seems your surface friends are embroiled in quite the skirmish."

Mareena nodded, swallowing as she looked at her mother. "They're up against Lobo, and... well, Shadowflame just transformed. He... he's incredible, Mother. I want to help him, to be there for him, like Kara and Kori. And... I want to stand with them."

Queen Mera considered her daughter's words, glancing back at the orb where Harry's aura flared. "Then perhaps," Mera replied thoughtfully, "the time has come for you to decide just how you wish to contribute to the world beyond our waters. Shadowflame's power is potent, indeed. But balance is often best achieved through unity and understanding, not raw strength alone."

Mareena's gaze didn't waver from the orb as she nodded, determination glinting in her eyes.

—

The sleek, ultra-modern office of Peverell Industries stood as a stark contrast to the chaotic history of its occupants. Talia al Ghul, always composed and calculated, paced the glossy floors of the conference room, her mind wrapped around the unavoidable confrontation that awaited her. The last meeting of the day would be one to remember—or regret.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been so on edge. Perhaps it was the memory of her sister's betrayal, or the knowledge that Nyssa al-Ghul, her half-sister, had never been one to forgive easily. Despite their shared bloodline, Talia and Nyssa had always been like oil and water, two vastly different forces struggling to coexist under the same roof of their father's twisted legacy.

Talia stopped pacing, her gaze flitting to Sirius Black, who lounged lazily in a chair. His typical disheveled charm didn't seem to match the intensity in the air, but then again, Sirius had always been able to remain unfazed in the most chaotic of situations. He was more concerned with the contents of his file than with the family drama unfolding before him.

"You've been pacing for an hour," Sirius remarked, tossing the file onto the coffee table with a dramatic flourish. "It's starting to make me dizzy just watching you. What's going on, Talia?"

Talia exhaled sharply. "It's Nyssa," she said, her voice tight with a tension that had been building ever since the meeting had been scheduled. "She's always been... complicated."

Remus Lupin, ever the steady presence in the room, glanced up from his stack of papers, his calm demeanor never wavering. "Your half-sister," he said, as though he already knew the weight of the situation. "The one who is loyal to the League while you broke away."

"Exactly," Talia confirmed, her eyes narrowing as she looked toward the door, as though she could will Nyssa to appear. "She'll never understand why I chose to oppose Ra's, to go against everything the League stands for. She believes that what we do must serve our father's greater plan. She can't see the world through any other lens."

Sirius let out a short laugh, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Right, because Ra's al Ghul is definitely the kind of guy you want to side with. The dude's been planning the apocalypse for centuries. Not exactly a 'let's save the world' kind of vibe."

Talia's eyes flickered with something between amusement and frustration, but she didn't respond to Sirius' irreverent comment. Instead, she looked at Remus, who was now carefully folding his papers. "You think she'll come here with an agenda?" he asked, his voice smooth and thoughtful.

Talia hesitated for only a moment before answering. "She always has an agenda. Nyssa doesn't do anything without a purpose. Whether she's here for a fight or for something else entirely, I don't know yet. All I know is that when she's involved, it's never simple."

Sirius grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "So, we're in for some sisterly drama, huh? I do love a good family feud."

Talia shot him a glare that would've turned any normal person to stone. Sirius, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he propped his feet up on the coffee table, unconcerned, though the hint of seriousness beneath his teasing tone didn't go unnoticed. "If she's here for a confrontation, we're ready. If it's something else... we'll deal with that too."

Talia remained silent for a moment, her jaw tightening as she considered the weight of her sister's return. "Nyssa never does anything without careful planning. She's not just a fighter; she's a strategist. If she's got something in mind, I won't see it coming until it's too late."

Before she could continue, the door to the office slid open with a soft click. The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Talia's breath hitched in her chest as the unmistakable figure entered. Tall, composed, with a predatory grace that immediately sent a ripple of tension through the room.

Nyssa al-Ghul.

Unlike Talia, who had adopted a more refined appearance in her years away from the League, Nyssa looked every bit the hardened warrior that Ra's had always wanted. She wore dark, form-fitting leather and a black jacket, her eyes cold and calculating. No smile greeted them, only a silent assessment of the room.

"Well, well," Nyssa said smoothly, her voice a silky blend of power and control. "It's been a while, Talia." She didn't acknowledge the others at first, her gaze firmly locked on her half-sister, as though the rest of them were mere details in the equation she was about to solve.

Talia's response was slow, measured. "You've come," she said, her voice betraying little emotion. "I wasn't sure what to expect from you."

Nyssa's smile, thin and predatory, made it clear she wasn't here to play games. "What else would I be here for, if not to remind you of our bloodline's legacy?"

Sirius, never one to sit idly by when the temperature rose, grinned like a wolf. "Well, I've got a front-row seat to this little family reunion. Should be fun."

Talia shot him a quick glance, warning him to hold his tongue, but Sirius, being Sirius, seemed unfazed. Remus, ever the peacekeeper, took a more diplomatic route, offering Nyssa a nod of acknowledgment. "I assume you didn't come here for small talk," he said calmly, sitting back in his chair.

Nyssa's eyes flickered toward Remus briefly before returning to Talia. "I've come because things are changing, Talia. Things that need to be addressed." Her voice carried an edge that suggested it wasn't an invitation to discuss their family's past, but rather a veiled threat. "You've made your choices. Now I'm making mine."

Talia's spine straightened, but her eyes never left Nyssa's face. "What do you want, Nyssa?"

Nyssa's lips curled upward, just enough to show that she had something planned, something far deeper than a simple sibling reunion. "You'll find out soon enough," she replied cryptically, her words heavy with something unspoken, something dangerous.

The tension in the room was unbearable now, the air thick with unspoken words and a sense of looming conflict. Talia had no idea what her half-sister was planning, but she knew one thing for sure: Nyssa was never one to come without purpose.

And whatever that purpose was, it was about to make itself known.

—

I sauntered into the Mount Justice common area, still riding the high from some seriously good quality time with Kara and Kori (don't ask, it's a long story, and I'm not getting into it). I spotted Hermione and Ron already entrenched in what was clearly an all-night study session. Hermione was buried under a mountain of homework (because of course she was, it's the first day of school, and she's already acting like we're in the middle of finals week). Ron, on the other hand, was battling what appeared to be an entire roast chicken. Or at least that's how it looked. Honestly, the guy could put away food faster than I could blink.

Grinning, I strolled over and flopped down across from them. Hermione barely looked up from her notes, which, of course, were neatly organized and perfectly color-coded, like she had a secret stash of time-turners stashed away. She slid a stack of papers and assignments my way with the efficiency of someone who's way too used to doing this for me.

"Potions and Charms. I figured you'd need them," she said, eyes flicking up just long enough to raise an eyebrow. "I assume the Lobo fight was worth the missed classes?"

"More than worth it," I said, flipping through her notes like it was some kind of treasure chest. "Thanks, Hermione. And yeah, it was pretty wild. Kara's recovering super fast—she'll be back to normal by tomorrow, and Kori's fine, just... a little rattled, I guess."

Ron, not missing a beat, paused mid-bite. His fork hovered in mid-air, like he couldn't decide if he was more interested in hearing about my day or finishing off his dinner. "Mate, we saw the footage. You went full supernova back there! What the heck happened?"

"Yeah!" Hermione added, leaning in, eyes wide. "How did Lobo even get involved in this? And why was he after Kori? I mean, she doesn't exactly scream 'Lobo bait' at first glance."

I rubbed my neck, trying to sound casual even though everything about this situation felt like I'd just stepped into a superhero version of that kind of nightmare. "Well, turns out Kori's got a price on her head. Some alien group called the Psions put a bounty on her. They experimented on her a while ago, and now they want her back. Lobo, being Lobo, couldn't resist the payday."

Ron made a face like he'd just bitten into a lemon. "They sent the biggest, meanest guy in the galaxy after her? Real classy."

"Exactly," I nodded, trying not to laugh. "So when things started heating up, I guess I just... overloaded a little. You know, tapped into something extra—hence the 'supernova' moment."

Hermione shot me a look. Part impressed, part extremely concerned. "Just be careful, Harry. We don't need you blowing up every time someone picks a fight."

I leaned back, smirking like I had it all under control (which, let's be honest, I didn't, but it sounded good). "Don't worry, Hermione. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve before I start fizzling out."

—

In the DEO containment facility—which, let's be honest, is really just a fancy way of saying "super-powered time-out zone"—Maxima of Almerac stretched out on the world's most uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall-mounted TV. They could imprison her, but hey, they couldn't stop her from watching TV, and today's episode of Earth Heroes Gone Wild was one for the record books.

There, on the screen, was footage of that absolute unit of an intergalactic bounty hunter, Lobo, throwing down with the Justice League. But that wasn't what made Maxima sit up. No, her attention was laser-focused on a new player. Shadowflame, they were calling him. Son of Wonder Woman, apparently. And boy, could he go supernova. Watching him blast Lobo with enough firepower to melt steel? Well, it sparked ideas.

Maxima leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she studied him. Here was someone who might actually hold his ground against her—a rare find, considering she usually left challengers gasping in the dust. Almeracian courtship, after all, was not for the faint of heart. No, back on Almerac, "dating" was basically gladiator combat meets demolition derby, with a side of "let's see who survives."

Her lips curved into a grin as she pictured it. If this Shadowflame was even half as powerful as he seemed, he might just be worth a royal match. And if he wasn't? Well, she'd still enjoy finding out. She imagined locking eyes with him, the two of them sizing each other up, ready to see who could outlast the other in every sense of the word.

"Shadowflame," she murmured, sounding way too amused for a prisoner in a cell. "I'll be seeing you soon enough. And we'll find out if you can handle a bit of royal intensity."

—

When I strolled into Potions that morning, I had the confidence of someone who'd just gone head-to-head with Lobo and, more importantly, lived to talk about it. And I had a secret weapon: Hermione's terrifyingly detailed notes. Last night, I'd reviewed them at super-speed, thanks to my Wonder Woman DNA giving me what felt like a photographic memory. I was practically a walking textbook, so organized that Hermione herself might have approved. That thought alone made me grin.

Andromeda Tonks, our new Potions professor, was up front, pacing like a panther with coffee. Her eyes zeroed in on each of us like she was assessing our worth, but not in the Snape "I'm watching your every move and will end you" way. No, Andromeda was more like, I expect you to try, but don't think I won't notice if you mess up. She looked at me, probably wondering if I'd show up after the whole "punching an alien bounty hunter" thing. Maybe she'd heard about it and was curious. Either way, I knew she'd be keeping an eye on me. No pressure.

I slid into my seat between Hermione and Ron, who looked somewhere between "up all night studying" and "hit by a Bludger." Hermione gave me a nod, obviously pleased I hadn't let my Lobo encounter be an excuse to skip Potions. Ron, though? He just looked at me like, Mate, how are you upright after fighting a guy who could probably chew a tank for breakfast? Ah, the magic of naps and high-octane adrenaline.

Andromeda cleared her throat, and everyone fell silent. "Today's potion is the Draught of Peace," she announced, her voice calm but intense, like she was casting a low-level intimidation charm. "It's difficult for most, but I expect all of you to keep up. I don't tolerate sloppiness, and neither should you." She shot us a pointed look. "One wrong measurement, and you'll end up with something closer to a Draught of Coma."

Challenge accepted.

Since I'd done my late-night, Hermione-approved study session, I already had the whole process mapped out in my head. I set my ingredients out in exact order, knife angled just right, cauldron heating to the precise temperature Professor Tonks would want. If she was watching, I was going to impress her.

Hermione glanced over, eyebrow raised as I measured out ingredients with suspicious precision. "Extra prepared today?" she whispered, half like she expected me to sprinkle in powdered Lethifold or something.

I grinned, trying to resist the urge to wink. "Had some time to kill. Thought I'd make it count."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide a little smile. Hermione would never admit it, but she loved when someone gave her a run for her galleons in the academic arena. Ron just shook his head in amused disbelief, muttering something about overachievers.

Professor Tonks' heels clicked around the room as she inspected our work. She paused by my cauldron, gave it a quick nod, and moved on. No fireworks, no applause, but I'll take it. In Potions-speak, that's like a standing ovation. And for once, I was ahead of the game—three steps into the potion, while everyone else was still trying to remember how to properly chop valerian root.

As the mixture started glowing with a soft, silver shimmer, I caught Hermione watching out of the corner of her eye, like she was waiting for me to mess up so she'd have something to correct. But nope, not today. Today, I was ready to ace it.

—

As we stepped out of the classroom, I barely had a chance to put my potions book away before Hermione, Susan Bones, and Daphne Greengrass crowded around me, looking at me like I'd just invented a new spell or something. Hermione, ever the one to measure every achievement, seemed genuinely impressed. "Harry, that was incredible work in there! I don't know how you managed it, but you've gone from... well, let's say 'less-than-stellar' to downright impressive in Potions."

"Yeah, especially considering…" Susan trailed off, glancing over her shoulder as if she were worried Snape might still appear from the shadows, even though he was… well, gone.

I shrugged, doing my best to look casual. "Well, it helps when you're not working under the watchful gaze of someone who's just waiting for you to mess up. With Snape breathing down my neck every lesson, waiting for even the slightest mistake so he could pounce, it wasn't exactly easy to feel, you know, relaxed."

Neville nodded fervently, his eyes wide. "Tell me about it. Every time I picked up a beaker, I half-expected Snape to tell me I'd already ruined it just by looking at it wrong."

Dean, Ron, and Seamus chimed in with similar horror stories, while Tracey and Hannah, who had their own run-ins with Snape's particular brand of "encouragement," nodded sympathetically. Daphne, usually one to keep her thoughts to herself, even muttered, "I think most of us were scarred for life by that class."

"Yeah," I said, giving them all a small grin. "Turns out when your professor isn't actively trying to make you feel like the world's biggest dunderhead, it's a bit easier to actually learn something."

Hermione, bless her, managed to look sympathetic, amused, and outraged all at once. "Honestly, though," she began, "Snape was relentless. It's like he had this personal vendetta against Gryffindor. Or maybe it was just anyone who breathed in his classroom?"

"Oh, it wasn't just Gryffindors," Daphne interjected with a knowing smirk. "Trust me. If you weren't the 'perfect' Slytherin prodigy, you were just as doomed. I once lost twenty points for blinking during one of his lectures. Apparently, it was 'distracting.'"

Susan raised her hand as if we were still in class. "I swear, he had a sixth sense. The moment anyone even thought of relaxing, he'd swoop in, ready with some biting remark. The man was like a… what did they call it? A Dementor in greasy black robes?"

That got a good chuckle out of everyone. Dean nodded, adding, "I honestly think he believed half the class would set themselves on fire if he wasn't there to terrify us into submission. I mean, I get wanting to avoid accidents, but constantly reminding us we were 'insufferable cretins' didn't exactly help me concentrate."

Ron snorted, arms crossed. "Insufferable cretins? Try 'inept morons' or 'brain-dead incompetents.' I once got a zero on an essay for daring to call a potion ingredient by its common name instead of the Latin one. 'Mudblood terminology,' he called it."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, yeah." Ron shook his head. "And then there was that time Neville's cauldron melted, and instead of, I don't know, helping him fix it, Snape practically had an out-of-body experience gloating about how he'd predicted it all along. Poor Neville was so traumatized, he refused to even look at a cauldron for weeks."

Neville, who had been listening with a mixture of relief and embarrassment, piped up, "It was either that or risk Snape turning me into a pile of ash. Honestly, if it wasn't for Gran forcing me, I'd have dropped Potions by third year."

Tracey nodded sympathetically. "You're not alone, Neville. I heard he'd even give failing marks to students who accidentally turned in perfect potions. Just on principle."

Susan chimed in, "At this point, I'm half-convinced Snape kept a scoreboard somewhere, awarding himself points for every life he ruined."

I laughed, but I couldn't help thinking about how true that might be. "And then he had the nerve to call himself an educator," I said with a smirk. "Guess he thought fear and intimidation were just 'advanced teaching methods.'"

Hermione shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Well, you're proof that the problem was never with you, Harry. Just a little breathing room, and look at what you've accomplished."

"Agreed," said Daphne with a wry smile. "Maybe if Snape had put half as much effort into actually teaching us as he did trying to make us all miserable, Potions would have been a lot less terrifying."

Dean nodded, grinning. "Honestly, if Hogwarts wanted to scare the life out of us, they should've just called the class 'Snape 101.'"

We all laughed, and for the first time, it actually felt like we were putting all that Snape-induced trauma behind us. Who knew a bit of Snape-bashing could be so therapeutic?

—

I was halfway through a sandwich (okay, fine, two sandwiches) when I felt that familiar whoosh, the kind that signals someone way cooler than me has entered the room. I looked up just in time to see Diana—Wonder Woman—land with all the grace of a goddess (which, I mean, she is, so that makes sense).

The cafeteria went quiet. She didn't need to announce her presence. She was practically radiating authority—the kind of authority that made you want to sit up straight and stop talking about whether or not it was socially acceptable to eat a third sandwich.

Kara, a.k.a. Supergirl, raised an eyebrow from across the table, clearly not all that fazed by Diana's arrival. She had that smirk on her face, the one she always had when she was about to say something mildly sarcastic. "Didn't think you'd be here this early," she said, wiping some mustard off her mouth, looking way too casual about the situation.

Diana's lips twitched, a small smile playing on them, but she wasn't here to make small talk. Nope, she had that "I'm about to drop some important news on you" look, and I had learned by now that when Diana looked like that, it wasn't good for anyone's sanity.

"Actually," she began, glancing over at me, "I'm here to talk about a meeting."

A meeting? Great. That's exactly what I wanted to do after eating—go to a meeting. But it wasn't just any meeting, I gathered, because that definitely wasn't the reason Diana had flown all the way out here. No, this was important.

Kara—who I'd sort of come to think of as my little sister (because, well, she kind of was)—raised a brow. "Meeting with who?" she asked, obviously sensing the shift in Diana's mood.

Diana shifted a little, her posture going just that much more serious. She could've melted the table with the intensity she was putting out right now. "With someone you might not know. Doctor Fate."

At the sound of his name, confusion immediately spread across the table like wildfire. Hermione, who had spent the last few minutes looking at me with that "I'm-suspicious-but-I'll-wait-until-you-explain" look, suddenly looked like she'd been handed a riddle she couldn't solve. "Doctor Fate?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "Who's that?"

I didn't even bother to look at Ron or Neville. I could already tell they had no clue either. But I'd read Justice League files, so I raised my hand like I was in class (probably because I was about to say something smart, which, honestly, was a rare occurrence). "I know him," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "I mean, I don't know him, but I know of him. Magic user. Part of the Justice Society of America. That's about it."

Ron looked at me, his eyes wide. "So, he's like a wizard or something?"

I shot him a look. "Ron, he's literally a powerful magic user, not your run-of-the-mill wizard. Don't make it sound like I'm comparing him to our average Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Ron looked slightly offended, but at least he stopped talking for a second. Diana, meanwhile, nodded, her expression a little more understanding, though she was still very much in "let me explain the universe to you" mode.

"Doctor Fate is more than just a magic user," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "He's an entity called Nabu—a being who resides in a helmet. The helmet holds the power of Fate itself. Whoever wears it becomes a host for this power, taking on the mantle of Doctor Fate. It's not just about magic; it's about wielding the force that holds the universe's balance."

Ron blinked. "So, a magic helmet? That sounds like something I'd find at the back of some dusty old wardrobe."

I had to admit, I was mildly intrigued. The idea of a magic helmet that could control the universe was both terrifying and... well, a little bit cool. "So, Doctor Fate isn't just a guy. He's, like, an all-powerful magical... thing?"

"Exactly," Diana said, glancing around the table. "The current wearer of the helmet is Kent Nelson. He's a man who, over time, has essentially become a vessel for the power of Fate itself."

The table was silent. I glanced around, noting the mixed expressions—everyone was processing this new level of weirdness in their own way.

Hermione finally broke the silence. "Okay, but why does he want to meet Harry?" she asked, her tone skeptical. "I mean, Harry already has plenty of magic, right? Is there some cosmic reason why the universe needs more Potter magic?"

And, honestly, I couldn't blame her for asking that. After everything that had happened to me—getting stuck in this new universe, accidentally becoming the most overpowered guy around—it didn't seem like a bad question. Why would Doctor Fate, a being tied to universal balance, care about me, specifically?

Diana gave me a pointed look, and I got the feeling she knew exactly what I was thinking. She wasn't here to ease my worries.

"Yes, Harry," Diana continued, her gaze steady, "You have power. But Doctor Fate's magic is different. It's called the Mystic Arts. It's not like the magic from your world. It taps into the very fabric of the universe itself."

Okay, that sounded a little more intimidating than I was ready for. But then again, when have I ever had time to process anything before jumping into the deep end?

"Great," I muttered. "Just what I need—more power I can't fully understand."

Diana nodded, almost like she was agreeing with me. "I know it's a lot, Harry. But if you want to learn, if you want to tap into this new kind of magic, Doctor Fate is offering to train you. Giovanni Zatara will mediate, make sure everything stays on track."

I leaned back in my chair, taking a deep breath. This was starting to sound like one of those decisions you make that you can never take back. And we both knew it. But I wasn't going to back down. Not now, not when there was so much more I could learn.

Kara gave me a sideways glance, her voice gentle. "You sure about this, Harry?"

I nodded slowly, suddenly feeling like I had just stepped into the next chapter of a book I hadn't even begun to read. "Yeah. I think so. If there's a chance to learn something new, something that could help protect this world... I can't walk away from it."

Diana gave me a small, approving smile. "You'll do well, Harry. This is just the beginning."

I grinned. "Well, if I get a cool helmet out of this deal, I'm in. I mean, who doesn't love a good hat?"

The rest of the table chuckled, but inside, my mind was already spinning. What the hell was I getting myself into?

Guess I was about to find out.

---

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