Smuggling
Nothing was ever this easy. Something was going to go wrong, he just knew it. There was no way a thirteen year old was able to smuggle themselves onto a plane, headed to another country, without getting caught. All he had done was activate his runes, cover himself in his fathers invisibility cloak, then carefully follow someone who looked rich enough for First Class. Uncle Vernon had always complained that there were always seats in First Class, whenever they went on holiday without him and Uncle Veron was refused a free upgrade.
Never allowed to do better than Dudley in class didn't translate to not being smarter or able to learn. In fact, if anyone had sat Harry down and really made him do his best, they would find that Harry was incredibly smart for his age. Due to the rules at the Dursley house, Harry had become conditioned to not only downplaying his intelligence but hiding his learning too.
The last two years at Hogwarts he had made two friends. Both at opposite ends of the study spectrum. Ron did the minimum he could get away with despite his highly strategic mind while Hermione crammed as much knowledge as possible into her own brain and put down anyone who didn't do the same. Torn between two levels of intelligence, Harry had firmly staked out his rank in class as slightly above average but not one of the teachers' pets. It kept both of his new friends moderately happy but neither really knew exactly what Harry was capable of.
After Hagrid had sent him back to the Dursleys with a large pile of packages and no way of storing them, Harry had caught the train back to London to do some more shopping. His first purchase was a black Dragonhide backpack with multiple pockets. Each pocket had an Undetectable Extension Charm inside it, making it able to carry all of his wizarding supplies at once. Harry also bought a school trunk to take all his new belongings to school.
He bought extra of all of his supplies so he could practise by himself and even found beginner kits for other types of magic that were not included on his booklist. In the bookshop he, quite literally, bumped into a Hogwarts Professor. Professor Flitwick was surprisingly jovial about being knocked off his feet. Apparently the same thing had happened with Lily, Harry's mother, when she was a first year.
After Harry had picked up both his pile of books and the Professors, Professor Flitwick bought him lunch and they spent an hour talking about Harry's parents, primarily his mother. Lily had been Professor Flitwick's Charms Apprentice. Harry happily soaked up the stories about his parents before heading back to the Dursleys.
During the remaining weeks before the train to Hogwarts, Harry had received a package from Professor Flitwick. It contained what looked like a small chest shaped jewellery box. It had apparently been made by his mother during school. It stole a drop of his blood and a key detached from the little silver plate on the top. With the key inserted in the now visible keyhole, it grew to the size of his new school trunk.
With the lid up, the inside of his mothers trunk was a deep dark hole with a ladder leading down. Harry dug through the piles of Dudleys junk in the corner of the bedroom for a flashlight. He pulled a couple of batteries out of an old broken toy and put them in the torch. It flickered a lot but he was able to see a few more metres down the ladder. He needn't have bothered. Once he began down the ladder, the room below lit up. He put the torch in his pocket and continued down. The room below was a huge library with a door in each wall.
Harry's first year was both incredibly interesting, incredibly stressful and traumatising. Used to being invisible, Harry had a hard time adjusting to not only everyone knowing his name, everyone staring at him and everyone expecting things from him. Every mistake was treated as a massive deal and every triumph was either not a big deal or treated as if he didn't deserve it.
He loved learning magic, though he learned far more by self study in some subjects than he was actually taught by some of his professors. One of his professors hated him without reason and didn't teach, only putting instructions on the board, one was difficult to understand due to the incessant stuttering and one was either dismissive of his concerns or took more points from him than anyone else, for the same disciplinary issue.
After his exams, he realised that several clues throughout the year pointed at a theft of a very valuable object that had been stored in Hogwarts. All of the clues pointed towards Professor Snape wanting to steal the Philosopher's Stone for Voldemort. The problem with all of the clues, for Harry they were too obvious. They were too obviously clues. Too obviously pointing at the man who everyone hated. If he really was working for a terrorist, Harry thought he would hide it better.
The year ended up with Harry in the Hospital Wing. He had been choked to unconsciousness by Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. His stutter had been faked for some reason. The Professor had been possessed by Voldemort's spirit, the man who murdered Harry's parents, was living as a parasite attached to the back of Quirrell's head. To get him to let go, Harry had expended a large amount of magic. Quirrells skin began to burn and Harry tried to push him away. When Harrys hands made contact with Quirrell's face, his entire head turned to ash.
At eleven years old Harry had killed a man.
Summer back at the Dursleys was as horrible as ever. His school trunk was locked in Harry's old bedroom, the cupboard under the stairs and Harry's chore list had doubled. The only thing that kept Harry sane was his mothers trunk. His summer homework had been in his bag, not his trunk, so Harry had been able to use his mothers library. The only issue was that the inkwells had run dry. A little water fixed that.
Despite the Dursleys' behaviour, it wasn't the worst summer he had. At least until the House Elf called Dobby decided to ruin it. While his mothers trunk had enough to keep his mind active, it didn't have any food and the dursleys were only feeding him once a day. He couldn't sneak out during the night due to the bars on his window and multiple locks on his bedroom door. He was locked up for almost a week before Ron and his brothers came to rescue him.
The need to rescue him didn't change anything for Harry. He still had to go back the next summer.
Second year was both better and worse than the first. While Snape still hated him for no reason, their new Defence Professor turned out to be a fraud. Ginny, Ron's baby sister, became possessed by Voldemort's childhood diary and began setting a Basilisk on the students. Not that anyone knew that. Noone died, thankfully, but for the majority of the year Harry was hated by everyone because he could talk to snakes. Even some of the Professors believed he was a monster and turned a blind eye to the incessant bullying Harry received from the entire school.
Even if Hermione had not been one of the attacked, Harry would have been driven to find the cause anyway. It was the only way to end the torment. Once again Harry followed the weirdly obvious clues to the Chamber of Secrets. Once again Harry almost died. A sixty foot Basilisk sank its fang into his arm, as he drove a sword through its brain. He used the fang to destroy the diary and Headmaster Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes, cured the poison.
That of course brought up questions. If the Phoenix could bring the Sorting Hat, which contained the sword, why couldn't it have brought Dumbledore himself? Surely a wizarding war hero, such as Dumbledore, would have been way more qualified to kill a 1000 year old Basilisk, than a twelve year old boy?
Once again at the Dursleys for summer, Harry went over and over the last two years of Hogwarts. He came to the conclusion that he was being tested and trained. Tested for what? Trained for what? He didn't know. What did he learn from each of the dangerous encounters? That it is OK to kill to save your own life? That it is OK to die to protect someone else? Over and over the questions turned until Harry was convinced that whoever was testing him was only going to escalate the danger. He would be lucky to survive the next school year.
It was Hogwarts or the Dursleys. He had nowhere else to go. Wherever he went they would find him and drag him back… unless he went to another country. He had all of his mothers books. If he self studied he could practise once he became of age. Taking the exams at the Ministry of whatever country he ended up hiding in. But when? Should he wait a year and try to make it as a fourteen year old runaway? Should he stay until he passed his O.W.Ls and was legally allowed to carry his wand. Would he survive that long?
Harry decided to make plans. If he had a plan then, he could run at the first viable opportunity. If he had a plan then he could run if things took a turn for the worst and he knew he would die if he stayed. So he planned. He just didn't think he would need his plan so soon.
Marge Dursley was a worse human being than her brother. He had managed to sit through a whole week with her insulting his murdered parents and insinuating he should have been drowned at birth. A whole week of straw after straw, until he broke and accidently inflated her like a balloon. Now he was forced to put his half baked plan into action early.
The ministry had blamed him when Dobby had levitated a cake. He didn't think they would be very lenient about blowing up his Aunt. No matter the provocation. So he gathered everything and ran.
After sitting with a stray dog in the park for an hour, he felt relaxed enough to enact stage one of his plan. Becoming unnoticed and hopping on a train bound for London, then to the airport. After the starting of first year and the abuse of second, Harry had spent the majority of his free time creating several runic bracelets using the beginners kits he had picked up in first year.
One to make a portable Notice-Me-Not field and one to make him silent. The silent one was trickier but worth it. Activating his runes, throwing on his fathers cloak and following a rich man into First Class.
It worked so well it was making him anxious. Surely there were ways to stop magicals from leaving the country? They were halfway over the Atlantic before he managed to calm down enough to slip into a light doze. He would bet that sneaking into a country would be harder.
By the time Harry had begun to doze off, Bruce Wayne had figured out what had been bugging him since the airport. His highly developed instincts knew when he was being followed. Then there was his highly developed ability to take in every detail of his surroundings. He noticed everything. So, why was that chair, so far from everyone, giving off a vibe of ‘nothing to see here’?
A quick text with Zatanna and he had the answer of ‘Yes. Magicals can make themselves both invisible and unnoticeable, but rarely at the same time. True invisibility is incredibly expensive to buy and incredibly difficult to learn. It is easier to make oneself unremarkable.’
Why would either a rich magical or a powerful magical try to be invisible on a plane? Surely being unremarkable was simpler? Why both at the same time? Why couldn't he hear breathing? Were they magically silent as well?
The only explanation Bruce could come up with was a criminal trying to sneak into America. Bruce Wayne couldnt be connected to the Justice League and it wasn't like he could easily become Batman on a plane, so he called in some magical help.
Zatanna and Wonder Woman appeared on the plane in a shower of sparkles and Zatanna immediately spelled the sleeping First Class passengers into a deeper sleep. The Stewardess was ushered back into Economy and the curtains spelled shut. Zatanna made a magical illusion of Bruce in his seat and changed him into his costume. After Zatanna assured Wonder Woman that the hidden Passenger was asleep, Wonder Woman wrapped a surprisingly small body in her Lasso of Truth.
Zattana spoke a spell to reveal their captive and when nothing happened, she gently reached forward and felt around for a head. Finding fabric, she gently tugged until the top half of a scrawny, underfed, exhausted teenager appeared. They all looked at each other in confusion. According to the Stewardess, no one was supposed to be sitting in this seat. So, why was a magical teen hiding in it? If Invisibility Cloaks were so damned expensive, how did he have one, when he clearly didn't have enough food? Did he steal from a wizard? Was that why he was trying to smuggle himself into another country? Too many questions.
Zatanna woke him up. The Lasso lit up and the boy clearly panicked. He was close to hyperventilating so Batman decided to get the interrogation over as quickly as possible.
“Where did you get the Invisibility Cloak?” he asked in his gruff Batman voice.
“It was my dads. I inherited it,” came the teens' shaky voice.
“When did he die?”
“I was fifteen months old when mum and dad were murdered by terrorists.”
“That's not possible!” Zatanna burst out. “Invisibility Cloaks only last about ten years max before they begin to fade. Not even Batman could see you sitting there.”
“It was my fathers and his fathers and his fathers before him. This cloak has been passed down in my family for over 1000 years,” Harry replied, still under the effects of the Lasso.
“But that would make that Cloak the most powerful of its kind-”
“You can't take it! It's all I have of my family except my trust vault. Please don't-”
“It's yours kid. We are not thieves. Even if you used it to commit a crime, it would be returned to you after you leave prison,” Wonder Woman reassured him gently.
“How did you get on this plane?” Batman got the interrogation back on track.
“Notice-Me-Not and silencing runes, my fathers cloak and following a rich guy into First Class. It was surprisingly easy.”
“Why are you on this plane?”
“Because I would rather be a runaway in America then be arrested for accidentally turning my Aunt into a balloon.”
“If you were arrested it would be a slap on the wrist for accidental magic. Running away to America is a bit extreme,” Zatanna stated, confused but their prisoner took it as a question.
“I have been planning my escape from Britain's Magical World for the last month. I didn't think I would need it for another year at least. Staying with my magic hating relatives, would see me arrested or dead. Going back to Hogwarts, will see me crippled or dead. America is the better option.”
The three adults stared at him incredulously. The Lasso meant he wasn't lying.
“Why would you believe your relatives would see you dead?” Batman snapped out of his shock first.
“Shall I count the ways? Not only do they believe in the Death Penalty, they think the Lethal Injection is too tame. They would prefer if beheading was made legal again. And that's only for non magical criminals. They cheered for the religious nuts, when they TV showed a documentary about the Salem Witch Trials. I wholeheartedly believe the only reason they haven't burned me at the stake yet, is that the neighbours would complain. It doesn't stop them from treating me like a slave, working from sunup to sun down on only a slice of bread and a chunk of cheese and as much water as I can sneak from the hose, when I'm doing outside chores.”
The three of them just stared at him again while Zatanna shivered at the idea of being killed because of her magic.
“What is Hogwarts and why will you be either crippled or dead if you go back?”
“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Supposedly the safest place in the world. In my first year, a troll got into the castle, several unicorns were slaughtered and a Professor tried to strangle me to death. I ended up burning him alive by accident, just trying to breathe. Second year there was a giant nest of dump truck sized spiders, a 1000 year old basilisk that bit me and another Professor tried to kill me. This one only wanted to erase my memory and trap me in a cave with a giant murderous monster, but the end result is the same,” he muttered the last darkly. “My conclusion is that I'm being trained and tested. I don't think I will survive next years ‘training and testing’.”
“What do you believe they are trying to teach you?”
“First year it was ‘it's OK to kill, to save your own life’. Second year, ‘it's OK to die, to save the life of another’.”
“Child soldier, though not in the traditional sense. They are training you to kill and die to protect something or someone,” Batman concluded solemnly.
“What are you going to do with me?” Harry asked in a defeated tone of voice.
He was confused when the two women started giggling. “Oh honey, you are a pale eyed, black haired orphan, with a tragic backstory. I'm sure we can find a family for you,” Zatanna managed to get out, ignoring Batman's scowl.