Chapter 1
Harry’s first impression of the Red Hood is this must be what Moody would’ve been like as a teenager. The thought creeped him out, so he shoved it aside. He had a job to do after all.
“Please sign here. Do you have the NDA ready?”
The vigilante shoved the file with the proper paperwork across the desk. Harry nodded and read through it diligently before signing it with his initials. Across from him, the other man did the same for the paperwork cobbled together by the Ministry of Magic after long discussions with the Justice League.
The Statute of Secrecy was still in place for the general populous, but the laws were ammended for superheroes. Aurors could be called upon locally in cases where the use of magic would prevent loss (or further loss) of life in events of a villinous nature or potential catastrophe.
Spells were invented to help protect the wizard or witch assisting the heroes. The written promise charm, Promitto Lexia, was the Ministry’s version of a NDA. After the hero signed it and witnessed the magic performed, they could not speak of it to others not under the exception clause of the Statute of Secrecy.
The names under that clause were updated every month as the Minister of Magic got together with the leaders of the League for tea and buscuits. Hermione trully loved those meetings, and would not stop talking to Harry about how great it is to talk to Wonder Woman about equal rights movements.
Harry himself had taken the opportunity to turn down the offer of a desk job as the Head Auror, and found his true calling as a Wizard Consultant specializing in Magical Maladies. He even went to a magical graduate school and got his doctorate in advanced healing. He wanted to help muggle heroes to fight and more importantly to heal.
“Alright,” Harry got the papers together, tapped them on the desk into a semblance of order before shoving it into one of the desk drawers. “If you want, I can get you a copy of these papers for records-“
“There’s no need.” Red Hood assured stiffly. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Very well.” Harry went to sit in his office chair across from the still standing vigilante. He didn’t ask the man if he wanted to sit down for this, as the man did not look like he wanted to anyways. In fact, the man looked about ready to leave at the first sign of percieved ill will. Harry had seen the shifty way the Red Hood held himself before in his muggle relatives…the discomfort around magic had certain tells. Harry sighed. He’d try to make this quick. “What is it you’d like my help with?”
The Red Hood shuffled on his feet a moment before answering. “There’s a few things you need t’know before we get into what I need from you.”
Harry waved his right hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.
“Firstly, I died and then came back…a year later. I didn’t come back all the way though, so the League of Assassins dumped me in a Lazarus Pit. Since then my mind’s been clouded…it takes hold of my rage and makes it easier to kill people. Lately, I’m starting to have more allies than enemies around me. Would be easier if I didn’t have a haze of green rage influencing my daily life, ya know?”
Merlin did he ever. Okay. Take a deep breath Harry, you are a professional. Act like it.
Harry took out a pen and paper and began taking notes. “You said it influences you, this green haze. Does it feel like someone or something else is behind the wheel, or does it feel like you?”
“Um.” Red Hood hesitated in surprise before answering, “Feels like me. I just get so angry, and the rage pulls me under.”
“Do you have any physical traits that indicate this is happening? Most mind magic can be detected by the change in one’s eyes.”
The helmetted vigilante nodded. He seemed to relax at the direction the conversation was going, a more logical route of inquiry instead of personal. “You’re not wrong. I’ve been told they glow green, same color as the pit. I hate that color.”
“Has the intensity of the pit’s influence changed over time?”
“Yeah.”
Harry took note on his pad. “Have a seat if you like, there’s a few more questions we’ll need to get through to identify the solution. Would you like tea? Coffee?”
“No thanks.” The Red Hood did, however, finally sit down across from him.
“Good. Following up on the intensity of the influence changing, is it getting more intense or less over time? Or is it dependant on certain triggers?”
——
“Okay, a good place to start I think is to determine how you came back to life. Do you consent to a few diagnostic spells? The first spell will be to detect ambient magics of our sort. The second to determine if other classes of magic were used. You won’t feel anything, and the spell will consist of colorful floating symbols around your head.”
“If it’ll get me answers, sure.”
Harry got out his wand from his sleeve holster and got to work. The diagnostic spell did rely on a good bit of chanting. The symbols that the spell drudged up he made sure to document in his notes. The symbols told a story in runic form. The good news was that muggles couldn’t produce horcruxes, and the diagostics reflected that definitely wasn’t how this man came back to life. The bad news was it was not wizarding magic at all. What magic was it then? Harry began the second diagnostic spell.
Oh, that’s interesting. The second spell was going nuts trying to identify the class of magic.
“There’s large amounts of CMB electromagnetic waves. Only, it’s not just from our cosmos.” Harry explained to his client. “Another dimention was making quite a racket, throwing white energy everywhere without a thought to the consequence. Who knows what other events it changed across the multiverse, but your death seems to be one of them.”
“…What?”
“A powerful white energy in another universe had a tantrum and woke you from the dead.” Harry simplified.
“…the fuck.”
——
“The next bit will be more invasive.” Harry didn’t like to use this technique, but it was the only way. “It’s called legilimens. The spell will allow me to get a better look into how the lazerous pit is affecting your mind, and through some effort I can get it to release its hold on you. To do it, I will need you to show me your eyes. In terms of magic, they are the window into your soul.”
“You want to get into my head? No way in hell.”
“I told you it was invasive. In order to combat something in the mind, you need mind magic. I signed your NDA, any secrets you have will remain safe.”
“FUCK NO.” Red Hood burst out of his chair. His eyes had a green shine to them. “I’m not having anyone inside my head. Not the green martian, not Raven, and certainly not you. I don’t fuckin know you.”
Harry stepped back and held both hands out to his sides in a show of respect. He was unarmed; his wand was on the table. “I can’t do anything without your consent. Per our agreement, remember? It’s magically binding”
“Damn straight.” Red Hood started pacing. “What are our other options?”
“Well, for me there are none. For you?” Harry paused to consider who else could help the Red Hood. “Well, you’ve declined help from Raven and the Martian Manhunter correct? It’s possible Constantine might have an occult-ish solution.”
“He doesn’t. I checked.” It was said so flippantly that Harry doubted he was telling the truth. Harry didn’t blame him. Constantine was an asshole on his best days. And those days were rare as is.
“Then you’re back to square none. If you don’t do this now, you’ll be condemning yourself to fighting the lazerous rage for the rest of your life.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just walk out that door.” The Red Hood jubilantly gestured, the stiffness in his shoulders giving away the anxiety he kept far away from his voice.
“I know how terrifying it feels to have an uncontrollable rage take hold of you, and ruin your relationships.”
“Bullshit.” The man’s eyes flashed green. “You don’t know anything. No one does.”
“Don’t believe me? How about a quid pro quo. I show you my memories, and you can decide afterward if you still want my help.”
“You can do that?”
“I’m a wizard, Mr. Red Hood. I can do lots of things.” Harry pulled out the stone basin by hand…which was very heavy. His customers liked him because he didn’t use magic without informing his clients beforehand, and he didn’t use it unless he had to. No floating papers and quills that wrote notes by themselves, no chairs that pushed themselves in. His clients, superheroes, were a jumpy sort. It made sense if he didn’t want an arrow through the throat or a super strong arm crushing his larynx that he didn’t use his magic without warning his client and explaining its use ahead of time.
Once the pensive was out in the open, Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried slowing his heavy breathing. Really he should hit the gym. “This - ah - is a pensive.”
—-
Jason found himself in a memory…Dr. Potter’s memory, if he was to be believed.
“Again.” The voice of an adult man drew his attention and the rest of the room became clear to him. A basement of some kind, with walls, floor and ceiling made entirely of stone. The only light in the room came from random candles and sconces on the walls.
“I don’t see how this will keep Voldemort out of my head.” The second voice was much younger, and came from a familiar face. This was a much younger Dr. Potter. He must have been no older than fifteen.
“Don’t invoke the dark lord’s name. We’re here because the headmaster wanted you trained in occlumency. So shield. Your. Mind.”
A bizarre feeling brushed over Jason, as though you could bottle anger and watch it like you would a movie. The boy in front of him was enraged.
The boy’s neck twisted like a snake shedding skin and he shouted with an altogether different cadence to his voice.
“That’s all you ever say! I’m trying to, okay?! You think I want these visions of murderers and rapists unleashing their hellish magic on helpless victims? I don’t! I don’t want to see my best friend’s father being tortured and killed. I’ve tried shielding my mind, it’s NOT WORKING!”
“AGAIN, POTTER!”
Jason jumped when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned around and nearly decked older Potter for that. The wizard looked tired, watching the scene before them.
“The fuck is this?” Jason demanded.
“Our circumstances were different, yours and mine. See, my problem wasn’t a lazerous haze. I had a fragment of mass-murderer soul stuck in me from when the monster of a man tried to kill me as a baby. He succeeded in killing my parents,” The wizard explained, unaware of how this story was affecting Jason. The vigilante’s fingers were twitching, as though wanting to strangle some murderous bastard. “but the spell aimed at baby-me backfired; it killed the mass murderer for some time. When he came back, I started getting visions of what he saw and what he did. More than that, his thoughts became my thoughts. I started feeling hatred towards my friends, towards my professors. I imagined how they’d die by my hand and I knew. I knew something was terribly wrong. Only, I didn’t really. I thought it was just…a side affect of having a mad man on the loose with my death on his agenda.”
Jason shivered at the parallels. His own demons in his head clamoring over the sound of a mad man’s laughter. HA HA HA HA HA!
“What you see here is my Potions Professor trying and failing to teach me how to sheild myself against attacks on the mind. How he uses Legilimens is nothing like I would do in your case.”
Young Potter cried out in pain.
Jason couldn’t help it. He flipped his shit. “He’s literally mind-raping you!! HOW IS THIS OKAY?!”
“Yes, but that’s not how it’s normally used.” Dr. Potter said the non-sequitor calmly as if it solved everything, and Jason had to take deep breaths to bring himself back under control.
“Nothing about this is okay.” Jason explained slowly to the wizard. God damn, talk about past trauma. “How could your headmaster condone this?”
“That’s not the point here.” The magic doctor argued. “The point I’m trying to make is that I do understand some of what you’re going through. And better yet, I can fix it. Only if you let me.”
This man…“Get us the fuck outta here.”
——
“I give you permission to enter my mind, but only if you promise to go to therapy or some shit.” Jason could not believe he was actually agreeing to this, but the memory he saw decided it.
“Sure.” The wizard shrugged.
“No, I mean it. I never thought I’d find someone with worse trauma than me. I have no idea how you’re still functioning.”
“Magic.” Dr. Potter said with a sharp grin.
“You little fucker. Secondly, promise to keep your black haired, doe-eyed orphan self from Bruce Wayne.”
“Okay? I doubt I’ll get to meet whoever that is. But sure.” The man’s bright green eyes blinked in confusion.
Jason reached behind his head slowly and felt his fingers along the hidden latches in the helmet. He bypassed the traps in the helmet and then removed it slowly.
“Okay, tell me what to do.” Jason said, his face out in the open.
“Keep looking directly at me. This might get boring for you, but no matter what don’t look away from my eyes or it will disrupt me in the middle of my work in undoing the damage the lazarous has done to your mind. Once that damage is repaired, I’ll force the lazarous out. I don’t know how long it will take, so you might want to get comfortable.”
“Whatever you say, doc.” Jason slouched in his chair and stared into the wizard’s eyes. Why did they have to be green? Fuck that color.
“Legilimens.”