Life for Harry
Eight months.
That was how long he had been living in a new place, with a new family and a new name.
Harry Wilson.
He'd initially felt shocked upon learning of his adoption, as he'd never thought anyone could ever care for him, his aunt and uncle had made sure of that, and this man had barely known him. Harry had thought it would turn out to be a lie, a dream, that they would change their minds and every possible scenario similar to that for a long time, and secretly still had a small wriggle of doubt in the back of his mind that he tried not to dwell on, and even that was slowly ebbing away as he revelled in his new identity.
It wasn't much of a change in the literal sense as Harry had never really used his surname, apart from the occasional remark about 'the Potter boy' from his uncle, but the amount of confidence and the feeling it gave him.
Harry Potter was the dishevelled, troublesome, burden of an orphan living in Privet Drive, disliked or feared by everyone. With no friends. No real family.
Harry Wilson on the other hand seemed like the opposite: a joyful and kind, if a little awkward Gotham kid, the son of a well respected man. While still skinny, his clothes no longer hung off him, and they were brand new and the right size. He was growing less afraid of speaking to people; like his peers, his teachers and adults for fear of judgement or insults. Most importantly, he had a loving family, which was something he had scarcely dared to dream about, for the stinging pain of realisation always hurt too hard to bear.
He didn't know or remember his biological parents, and while he learned of their sacrifice for him (to a lesser extent of what really happened as he is still young) and did love them, the surname felt to him like a symbol of his new identity, better life and primarily his family.
His father seemed to be surprised of the rate at which Harry had quickly fit in his new life, his face betrayed his emotions twice: when Harry was positively beaming when learning of his adoption, and asked timidly if he could hug him, and after about five months when Harry asked to call him 'dad' after doing so accidentally.
He had never been told why or how he had been removed from the Dursley's care but it didn't concern him at all. For all he knew, somebody could have noticed their mistreatment, or they decided to get rid of him like they always said they would if he behaved anything less than perfectly in their standards.
Therefore, Harry never brought it up, and nobody else really did, his siblings didn't seem to know anyway.
The biggest shock came a little less than a week after he arrived in Gotham.
It was his birthday.
He hadn't expected anyone to know, and it's not like the Dursleys ever cared really, so his shock was immeasurable when he returned home after being sent off with Grant to buy food, to find banners and presents decorating the living room. To everyone's surprise, Harry had actually cried when opening the toys, books and other gifts, mainly out of joy and gratitude, only being able to watch from a distance as Dudley opened his mountain of presents earlier.
Furthermore, after the holidays ended, Harry was enrolled in the local primary school Joey attended. Any hint of going there was resisted with desperate pleading, influenced by fear of a new environment of people who would most likely consider him freakish and bully him, coupled with Rose telling him she wouldn't be going as her mum hires tutors for her.
Despite all this, he was convinced (and bribed with chocolate) to go on the first day and was pleasantly surprised by a kind teacher and classmates also behaved nicer due to the lack of Dudley bullying everyone into submission to hate Harry, and even proved to be rather intelligent for his age in a few subjects.
All in all, life was certainly looking up for Harry and he wouldn't have it any other way.
That stopped being possible, however, in late April.
Harry had accepted Rose's offer of learning martial arts and tagged along after her one night, where he was gladly accepted after the people running it gave him a taster session and he decided to continue learning. It made him feel stronger and much more capable, and although he could only throw the weakest kick or hit, he was appeased by the hopes of the years of constant future training paying off one day, so he wouldn't have to live in fear of being a human punching bag again.
The first mistake made was Harry borrowing his dad's credit card to pay for a yearly subscription those eight months ago. He did ask if he could use it, of course, but wasn't sure if Slade was fully aware of what he was doing after school and what he had paid for. It didn't help that, as Rose's brother, everyone assumed their father had already given him permission to come.
This particular day in April, Harry threw out a letter about his progress in training from his bag onto his bunk before grabbing a snack and leaving with Rose and her mother to attend training.
Slade always worked till late and Grant was trusted enough to look after his younger siblings for a short while if Wintergreen couldn't make it but none of them were allowed out without supervision, and only Harry was the permanent resident of the apartment meaning he was often babysat by Lili or in extreme cases Adeline, though he liked the latter less because despite being essentially left to his own devices with his brothers for the most part, it tended to be boring and awkward. So, because she was taking Rose anyway, Lillian had offered to bring Harry to and from his after school activities.
It was a quite productive session, and Harry, Rose and her mum had stayed behind for Harry to have a little more time to practice a quite difficult kick. The Sensei expressed his pride at his progress and bid them goodbye, when Slade appeared in the doorway looking furious.
Grant and Joseph peeked from behind the fuming man who marched right up to the Sensei, and the saying 'if looks could kill' definitely applied to this scenario.
'Good afternoon, I want to know what is the meaning of this.' Slade said, not quite shouting but raising his voice slightly in anger. He placed something on the reception desk.
It was Harry's letter.
'Ah yes, that's to congratulate your son here. He has been doing exceedingly well for someone his age and size, I would attribute that to his determination and resilience-'
'As far as I know, Harry doesn't go to your classes.' This time he turned to look straight at Harry, who trembled in anticipation of the anger. He knew he shouldn't have done that, not when his dad had been so nice to him. Perhaps he got too comfortable. 'And if he somehow signed up on his own, it is up to you as a club to make sure any applications are valid and have proper parental permission, am I right?'
'Yes sir, I apologise for the inconvenience. Could you possibly take your children home and the matter will be resolved as soon as possible.'
Slade sighed exasperatedly, 'Well, alright then. Do try and make it quick though.'
His stomach sinking, Harry anxiously followed his dad out the door, and waited a moment as Slade was given Rose's suitcase so she could stay for the weekend.
As Slade turned to him, Harry's heart raced like after a marathon and he gabbled in panic, 'I'm so so sorry, I can stop if you want, it's just that Rose goes and said it was cool, and I didn't want to get beaten up again and please don't get angry-'.
'Calm down Harry, it's not like I'm about to shout at you, right?' he looked at his expression and amended the question, 'I don't know what your relatives did but it's OK, not the biggest crime of the century, I promise. Of course this won't be without repercussions. I want you to understand, though I think you do, that you shouldn't have gone behind my back like that. I don't want you to go so you'll just stop, end of story. And Rose only goes because her mother pays for it, I don't have a say in that.'
'Why not though? It's really useful.' Harry counteracted as they walked on, mentally imploring his dad to change his mind. He didn't want to feel so weak, and he knew enough about Gotham to hear it wasn't safe in the slightest.
'I... It... You've heard of Batman right?' it wasn't even a real question, everyone in and many people out of Gotham were aware of the Dark Knight and his activities, 'Well, it seems like most people who know martial arts end up dressed like circus acts beating up deranged costumed criminals, or AS those costumed criminals. It's not safe and you could end up involved with... the wrong people.'
'How can you say it's too dangerous if you go around as Deathstroke?'
Harry noticed, too late, how his father and brothers froze, incredulous expressions on all three faces as only he and Rose seemed confused, but intelligent enough to know not to say anything.
Slade's PoV
'How can you say it's too dangerous if you go around as Deathstroke?'
Harry's words rung in his ears, deafening everything else.
How could he have been so idiotic? No worse than a low-level henchman! Harry met him as Deathstroke, why would he have thought he'd never mention it!?
He stared straight ahead at a lamppost on the grimy street under the starless sky they stood on. Time itself seemed to half for a moment as old wounds resurfaced and the dilapidated monster of memories reared it's ugly head in his mind.
No.
Not again.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Slade couldn't bear to look at his children yet forced himself to with a tremendous effort. Both Rose and Harry looked up at him bewildered, and his heart sank knowing that whatever would be said next would irrevocably alter their perceptions of him.
Grant and Joseph... for the two it was a combination of shock and the worst one. Disappointment. He felt like a failure as a father everyday and this just confirmed it.
As much as he preferred to wallow in his emotions, Slade knew he couldn't run from his actions forever, and so might as well face them head on while he could.
'Is that true dad?' Joey signed upon noticing his father looking at them.
Yet again, he felt a stab in his chest.
'Yes. It is.' There was no way out, and if nothing else, he had a moral code, he thought bitterly.
'Why?' came the inevitable response.
That was hard to answer adequately enough for children to understand. He didn't quite understand it himself. Money? Power? The urge to fight? None of that seemed plausible enough.
'Wait, what are you talking about?' Rose asked as they shuffled along slowly, entering the flat.
Slade took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts and force them into place and find the right words to explain. He obviously couldn't tell them everything, just enough to understand the bare minimum. He highly doubted they'd know what a mercenary was at least.
'Rose, Harry, there are certain things about my past that I haven't told you, trying to ignore them, but I realise you need, and deserve, an explanation. I... used to be involved in very dangerous... activities as a mercenary, calling myself Deathstroke.' He paused, allowing himself a brief moment to scan their faces to glimpse a reaction, 'Becoming this was a choice I made many years ago. Partially to protect my family... but mainly for selfish reasons. It's a past I tried to leave behind, but... Unfortunately, it keeps pulling me back in.'
Harry's face was one of curiosity and confusion, while Rose's was more guarded and uncertain.
'Wait what!? Dad, I thought you were just a regular guy! What is all this? Do Grant and Joey know? Why can't Harry carry on with his lessons then?', Rose shouted incredulously.
'Being Deathstroke, this life I've chosen, it comes with many dangers and risks, as I've experienced first-hand.' He continued, looking towards Joseph, 'This isn't something I want for any of you, to be free from the violence and darkness surrounding me. It's why I don't want you involved in martial arts, or anything else that leads down that path.'
Rose crossed her arms, her voice tinged with frustration and bewilderment,' But why can't we make our own choices? Harry's found something he enjoys, that he's good at, and look, he's more confident and everything too.'
Having been nodding emphatically, Harry decided to speak up now, 'I want to protect myself dad! I- I've been bullied before and I don't want to feel so helpless again. If this Deathstroke thingy is so dangerous then wouldn't it be better if I can defend myself? Or all of us too. I don't want you getting hurt.'
Slade's previously stern expression softened. 'Martial arts is a good hobby and does help with strength, if it's something you really want to do then I won't stand in your way.'
'Really dad?' A smile lit up Harry's eager face in excitement.
'Yes, BUT I will make sure you have the necessary guidance and training to do it safely, and there's no, way you're using it outside of the facility unless it's an emergency. Absolutely no secret identity EVER for all of you.'
Upon hearing this, Harry and Rose shared a meaningful look and smirked to each other, as Slade already regretted this decision, but he felt it was fair. They got to do what they wanted, without any additional risk. He somehow also managed to tell them about his mercenary activities without actually going into any detail. It would be harder with the other two.
He sent the younger children to bed after making them promise not to tell anyone, then sat down in front of his older sons, facing them with a solemn expression.
'I haven't been completely honest with you, and I'm very aware you might feel angry or disappointed, and you are absolutely right to feel that way. I continued placing not only you, but your younger siblings, in grave danger. I assure you I have tried hard to put the past behind me but it is a difficult path to navigate, and I acknowledge my fault.' Slade's voice conveying a mix of regret and determination as he looked intently at his sons.
Hesitantly, Grant spoke up first, 'Dad, I... I admire you, your strength and bravery but won't we be put in danger again? That's the whole reason for.. for what happened earlier, and even that was caused by you keeping it a secret.'
The tense atmosphere in the room was palpable, with everybody seeming to tiptoe around the so-called elephant in the room.
Joseph.
Both of them were well aware of what the young boy, now nine years old, had gone through as a lasting, final effect of his father's irresponsible actions, and both were desperately attempting to avoid the sheer mention of the incident.
Still focusing his gaze to the boys in front of him, but averting his eyes slightly so as not to look either in the eyes, Slade resumed speaking in a thinly veiled attempt to ignore the pressing issue, 'I want you two to understand that all of your safety and wellbeing is - and has always been my top priority. There's nobody left that is aware of my true identity, and I endeavour to keep it that way. My other life is kept entirely separate, and although I understand the damage has been done and it's of little importance, I have tried to drastically limit the amount of time I spend in it, which I hope you have noticed.'
He finally steeled himself to look at his younger son, who gave him a weak smile and placed his hand on his arm in consolation.
Although silent, the message spoke volumes and Slade clearly understood it.
He was forgiven.
It was more than he could have ever hoped for, but did nothing to reverse the events of the day, which Slade knew would no doubt leave a lasting impact on all of his children. After all, they were much too young to be subjected to this knowledge, of a murderous father and life in perpetual danger, no matter how much he toned down his explanations to not reveal too much.
Yes, his children would most certainly change.
And when the time for that comes, he will be ready.