Work Text:
Harry stared out at the Gotham skyline. The roof he was sitting on was far from the tallest in the city, but it was the tallest in its dilapidated neighbourhood, so he had a pretty good view.
The orange glow of thousands of street lights was scattered by the town's ever-present fog, making the sky shine in greys and yellows. The colour made for a stark contrast against the dark outlines of the city's buildings, all of them a dirty black, their sharp-pointed roofs rising out of the fog. In some ways Gotham's gothic architecture reminded Harry of Hogwarts on a foggy night, but the sounds and smells of the city destroyed any real resemblance. Hogwarts never smelt of sewage and rot, and even on its worst days the sound of gunshots never filled its halls. This was one of the reasons Harry had chosen to sit on a rooftop in Crime Alley – for all his trauma and all his triggers, gunshots were sort of comforting, reminding him how far he was from home. It was funny, in a way, and Harry needed every meager laugh he could wring out of this miserable town.
The truth was that Harry didn't know what to do. He'd come to this city chasing a faint sliver of hope, and now it felt like that hope was gone. Of all the things a playboy billionaire could hide, who would have guessed Bruce Wayne's secret was Batman? This would be funny, too, if it weren't for Gotham's other vigilantes. Who were all way too young.
Harry had had enough of child soldiers, enough to last a thousand lifetimes. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Fred, George... they hadn’t all been children when they’d died, but they had all been recruited to the war too young. Too young to have their lives destroyed, too young to be in charge of battles, too young, too young. Even Harry's parents had been not much older than he was right now when they’d died.
Another funny thing – Harry being alive, when everyone else was dead. That hadn't been the plan, of course. He'd walked to his death with relief, once the last horcrux was gone. But then he'd met Hermione and Ron in that golden train station between life and death, and they had begged him to give life another chance. Surely things would be better after the war ended. Surely Harry could find some semblance of peace.
So Harry had woken up, lying on the ground in the Forbidden Forest, and he'd tried. For Ron and Hermione, and everyone else who had left him too soon. But it turned out that it was hard to find peace when your days were full of pain and your nights were sleepless with terror. The wizarding world, of course, just went back to its bigoted and oppressive ways, and Harry's attempts at change were pushed aside as ‘well-meaning but misguided.’ The only thing that had kept Harry going for those long, lonely months was the prospect of turning 18, inheriting his lordships, and finally having some say in the twisted politics of his world. lf he could just free the house elves and get the werewolves jobs, maybe it would feel like there was something in his life worth staying for.
Harry rubbed his face with the heel of his right hand, and fumbled in his pocket with his left, taking out a wad of cash. What a joke. The great Harry Potter, right back where he started. It was surprising the Goblins hadn't laughed in his face that day in Gringotts; He had protested at first, of course, making a fool of himself in his anguish. Surely the blood was wrong – surely James Potter was his father! And even if he wasn't, there was no way Sirius would specify that his heir had to be James Potter's son, was there?
What a joke.
Harry counted his money, squinting at the numbers on the notes. 538 dollars. That should be enough for another few weeks in Gotham, if he stretched it. On the other hand, if he wasn't going to reveal himself to Bruce Wayne, there wasn't much point in staying here. Gotham's magical community was the United States' equivalent of Knockturn Alley, and the Boy-Who-Lived would not be welcome there. Maybe he should just give up, and go home.
Where was home, though? There was nothing left for him in England. That was why it had seemed too good to be true, finding out his biological father had a penchant for fostering orphans – he even had a biological sibling, if the tabloids were to be believed! But now he was sorry he’d wasted so many galleons on that paternity spell. Harry was done with fighting, and it didn't seem like Batman would approve of pacifism.
Harry peered down over the edge of the roof. He could barely see the ground through the thick Gotham fog. It tempted him, the idea of jumping, of ending it all. But every time he considered death he remembered his friends' earnest expressions in that in-between place. He couldn't let them down like that.
Maybe he could just ask Bruce Wayne for some money. Harry snorted, imagining that scenario. ‘Hello, I’m your biological son from England, can I please have a few thousand dollars?’ Nope. He was best off just going back to England and trying to start a new life. Maybe in a year or two he would even be brave enough to get in touch with some of the remaining order members, few of them as there were.
Just as Harry was trying to find the strength to stand up, there was a quiet rustle from behind him, and he reacted instinctively, jumping up and reaching for his wand.
‘Hey, hey, no need to panic, kid. l just wanted to check if you were doing okay, that's all.’
The speaker was a tall man dressed in black and grey combat clothes, his face covered by a red mask and topped with a red hood. Harry narrowed his eyes.
“I'm fine.”
The boy had an accent – British, maybe? – and he was obviously not fine. No-one eyed the edge of the rooftop with that much longing when their life was full of bunnies and sunshine. And yeah, both of those things were in short supply in Gotham (unless you counted the demon brat's murder rabbits). But still, there were levels of doing bad, even in Gotham, and sitting on a Crime Alley rooftop at 3am was definitely final-boss level bad.
“You sure about that, kid? Sort of looked like you wanted to jump.” Jason looked over the boy again, noting his defensive stance and scarred skin. “I'm not exactly good at this stuff, but I feel like I should give you the whole mental health spiel, you know? Death isn’t worth it, it gets better, etc.”
To his surprise, the boy actually chuckled, straightening up and letting go of whatever he had in his hidden holster. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to die. Been there, done that.”
The boy’s serious tone took Jason by surprise, and he was so shocked he spoke before thinking. “You too?”
“What?”
Jason tried to backtrack as fast as he could. “Oh, nothing, I just meant about not planning to die, you know, me too...” His words died away at the scepticism radiating off the boy’s face. “You’re not going to buy that, are you?”
“No.” The kid took a step closer to Jason, green eyes luminous and intense. “You’re the Red Hood, aren’t you? And you’ve died and come back? How?”
Jason sighed. Why was his life like this? All he wanted to do was live out his quiet crime-boss existence without any interference from mad scientists or assassins or ghosts, just smashing some skulls and shooting some goons. But his family always wanted him to deal with emotions, his friends were into saving-the-world type shit, and now he had a back-from-the-dead kid on his hands just as Gotham was finally having a quiet night. The only thing that kept him from flipping off the rooftop was the look in the boy’s eyes. It may not have been an “I’m gonna kill myself” look, but it was definitely desperate enough to be dangerous.
“If we’re doing this, I’m gonna sit down,” he told the boy, making sure to give him a wide berth as he went to sit on the edge of the roof. Dick would tell him he was being a bad example for the kid, but then Dick wasn’t here, was he?
The boy just shrugged, and flopped down to sit on the edge a few steps away from Jason. Up close he looked older – less like a child, and more like a young adult.
“So? Did you also see a train station?”
Train station? “Why would l see a train station? Coming back from the dead isn’t that complicated. One minute you’re dying, the next you wake up in a coffin four feet under. What’s not to like?”
“You actually woke up in your coffin?” The boy sounded horrified.
“Yeah. And my family splurged for a good quality one and all, it was damn hard to break through.”
Maybe Jason shouldn’t tell the kid all of this. It wasn’t a secret, exactly, but it was a bit too close to his old identity. This boy could be anyone – for all Jason knew, he was lying about his own death, or had just hallucinated it. But no matter how much Jason improved, how much he controlled his rage, the pit would always be part of him. And the pit liked this kid, really liked him, and that was good enough for Jason.
His joke got him another dry chuckle, and the boy shook his head, expression thoughtful. “I guess mine could have been worse, then. I just woke up like nothing had happened, and l had to pretend to be dead for a bit, listening to the guy who killed me rant about his success.”
God, that was an image – coming back to life still at the Joker’s feet in the warehouse. Jason shivered.
“Damn, kid, that sucks.” Jason shook his head. He wouldn’t say he wasn’t curious about who had killed this boy and how he’d come back, but he recognised the expression on the kid’s face – there was a reason Jason didn’t like to talk about his own death.
“I know we’ve got a whole zombie unity thing going, but how about we switch topics for a bit? I don’t know about you, but my own death isn’t exactly my favourite topic. Why don’t you tell me why you’re brooding on a Crime Alley rooftop at 3am, if death is old news for you?”
The kid shrugged again, and then just looked at Jason for a long moment, like he was considering something.
“You know Batman, right?”
Jason started. “Yeah?”
“What’s he like?”
First death, now B? It was like this kid had come prepared with a list of Jason’s least favourite topics. Jason brought up a hand to scratch at his mask. “Fuck, kid, maybe we should just go back to the zombie unity.”
He expected the kid to chuckle again, or maybe get annoyed. Instead, something fell in his expression, and his eyes glazed over. “That bad, is he?”
There were alarm bells going off in Jason’s head. Why did this kid want to know about Batman? Why did he look like Jason’s words had taken something from him? Maybe it was time to backtrack. Jason could always call Dick if it got really bad – the idiot was back in Gotham again this week, and would be more than happy to sing Bruce’s praises.
“Nah.” Jason tried to sound relaxed. “Batman’s fine. He’s a bit of an asshole, yeah, and we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but he’s not bad. He’s done a lot of good for Gotham. “
“What don’t you agree on?”
Jason couldn’t just say “avenging my murder”, but he also wanted to stay close to the truth. For some reason, the kid sounded like this was important to him, and Jason wanted to get it right.
“Ethics, mostly, I guess? Or Justice or whatever. The bat thinks it’s wrong to kill anyone, ever, and I disagree. The kinds of bad guys we get here in Gotham, there’s no redeeming them, and if we lock them up they just escape. Batman’s high horse just gets more innocent people killed.”
He and Bruce had talked about it once. Only one time – Dick and Tim had had to shut them in a room together just to get them that far. Apparently Bruce’s rule against killing was more about him than the rogues, more about who he would become if he crossed that line. Jason got that, sort of. His problem nowadays was with Bruce’s insistence that Jason should also stop killing. He wasn’t trying to chase Jason out of Gotham any more, but he still didn’t seem to get that Jason had crossed the line Bruce was afraid of, a long time ago, and there was no coming back for him. The most Jason could do was keep the pit contained, and save the bullets for the bosses.
“Hmm.” The kid turned to stare at the city, one hand coming up to rub his forehead. “What about the children, though?”
“The children?”
The boy didn’t look at Jason as he nodded. “You know, Robin, Batgirl, Signal, Red Robin, Orphan. If Batman cares so much about ethics, why is he training children to fight?”
Jason quickly closed his mouth, and tried to gather his thoughts. How did this kid know so much about the other bats? Most people assumed Gotham’s vigilantes were older, except in cases like Robin where size made that impossible. But then, maybe it wasn’t that hard to guess? And the boy seemed worried about Batman in general, so it was only natural he’d jump to conclusions.
“Why do you want to know? Because I can neither confirm nor deny the child thing, unless it’s somehow worth the trouble I’ll get myself into by blabbing.”
The boy finally turned to look at Jason, green eyes calculating. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Don’t you know who I am, kid? Secrets are my bread and butter. Or maybe pop-tarts and nutella, I’m really not much of a butter guy.”
“You Americans are disgusting.” The boy rolled his eyes. “But can you keep a secret from Batman? It’s not dangerous, but it’s something he’d want to know.”
Jason grinned widely under the mask. “Those are my favourite type of secrets.”
“Okay.” The boy paused for a moment, his left hand playing with something in his pocket. “Batman is my father.”
It said something about Bruce that Jason’s first thought was not scepticism, but oh no, not another one. He squinted, trying to see the kid’s features in the dark. His black hair was messier than Bruce’s, but it was the right shade, and with that nose and mouth, he could be a Wayne. Maybe without the glasses? Jason tried to imagine Damian wearing round glasses and speaking in a British accent, and almost laughed out loud. Ridiculous, but the similarity was definitely there. Nothing could be certain without a test, but knowing Bruce, it wouldn’t matter in the end. The kid already ticked most of the “Bruce Wayne’s compulsive fostering” boxes.
This made Jason think back to the kid’s previous questions, and – oh.
“Shit, kid. Now I see why you wanted to know about the whole child vigilante thing.”
“Yeah. I’m done fighting.”
The boy’s tone was defiant, like he somehow expected Jason to contradict him. Fuck, was this another child assassin situation? The boy didn’t really move like he was trained, though – he had good instincts, but none of Damian or Cass’ quiet grace. Well, there were all sorts of ways for kids to fight, Jason knew that well. The important thing now was to set the boy straight.
“Good for you.” The boy frowned at him. “No, I mean it! Get out when you want to. And don’t worry about Batman – he’d be over the moon to have a kid that doesn’t want to fight.”
“But – the others –”
Jason shook his head. “You think he could stop them? I’m not gonna confirm anything specific, but some kids are going to get out there whatever way they can. Batman makes sure they don’t do it alone, and that someone always stops them from going too far.”
Honestly, Jason wasn’t sure if this argument applied to his own vigilante debut all those years ago, or to Dick’s before him. But it was certainly true now – all of Gotham’s current bats had been fighting in one way or another before Bruce took them in, and they regularly defied Bruce’s attempts to bench them. It would have been funny if it didn’t make Jason sad.
“Hmm.” The boy looked thoughtful. “Maybe that makes sense. He really tries to keep them safe?”
Jason nodded, wondering what his life was coming to. Red Hood, undead therapist and Batman apologist. Roy was never allowed to find out about this, ever.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, both of them looking at the sliver of dawn light rising up behind the distant skyscrapers. Jason had hundreds of questions, of course, but the boy looked like he needed time to think. Still, after what must have been ten minutes of nothing, Jason decided he just had to know.
“So, how did you find out Batman was your father? Paternity test come back with a little bat symbol on the back?”
Honestly, that was the biggest hole in the kid’s story, and Jason watched his face carefully, looking out for any sign of panic. Instead, the boy just seemed amused.
“I don’t know if a bat would be that conclusive, honestly. No, I know it’s him because my blood matched his civilian identity.”
Jason froze. “You know who Batman is?”
“Yeah?” The boy peered at him curiously. “That’s how I knew about all the other bats being children. I’m not going to tell anyone, though, so don’t bother asking.”
Fuck. The boy didn’t only know about Bruce, he knew about all of them. Jason was panicking. “That’s not exactly reassuring, kid! That secret could ruin a lot of lives!”
“I know, that’s why I’m not going to tell anyone. Merlin, you’re dramatic. I just wanted to know if my biological dad was up to anything shady. Turns out he’s Batman.” The boy smiled ruefully. “It wasn’t hard to figure out the rest of the bats from there.”
“Wait –” Jason was so confused. “But you don’t know who I am?”
“Why would I? I thought you didn’t get on with them?” The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Or are you actually a bat?”
“Nah, no bats here!” Jason chuckled nervously. “Just thought you might have looked into other Gotham vigilantes. You get that I’m gonna have to tell Batman about you now, right?”
“No!” The boy’s eyes went wide with panic. “Why would you care? I said I won’t tell, and I’m planning on leaving the city tomorrow!”
Jason went to stand up from the edge, but the boy was ahead of him, scrambling back and grabbing something from his holster. Jason’s hand went to one of his guns, but then he saw the boy had just drawn a stick from his sleeve. What the fuck? Was this some sort of joke? Some new hallucinogenic villain toxin?
Still, the boy definitely looked ready to fight, so Jason stood up slowly and raised his hands palms-first to avoid scaring him.
“Kid,” he said, as gently as he could. “Secret identities are a big deal here in Gotham. You could fuck up a lot of lives if you reveal something, even if it’s by accident. We just need to make sure you’re not lying, maybe brief you about protocol.”
“We?”
Shit. Jason was slipping up too much tonight. He didn’t know if it was the late (early) hour, the boy’s evident distress or the way the pit was humming happily inside his chest. Probably all of the above.
Still, there was nothing much he could do about it now – Jason could see the realisation dawning on the boy’s face.
“You’re another one of Batman’s children,” he said quietly, slowly lowering his stick and relaxing his stance. “The one who died – Jason something, right?”
Jason sighed, looking around the neighbouring rooftops to check that they were alone. Well, that confirmed that the kid definitely knew who Batman was. At least Jason’s identity reveal stopped him doing whatever he was planning to do with that stick. Silver fucking lining.
“Yep. At your service. And pro tip – never use real names in the field, you don’t know who could be listening, especially around here.” Jason gestured at the roofs around them, and the boy’s eyes widened. “Now do you get why I need some confirmation that you’re legit? Information like that is dangerous, even if you mean well. Someone could come after you, if they hear you talking about Batman’s identity and all that. Hell, you told me, and I’m not exactly the most trustworthy bastard out here.”
The boy had been slowly nodding his head at Jason’s explanation, but he scoffed at the last point. “I told you because I knew I could trust you – I have a way to tell if people are being sneaky, and you weren’t. And you don’t have to worry about anyone coming after me, I can take care of myself.”
From the look in those green eyes, the boy really meant that. Jason looked up and down the boy’s scrawny frame, and tilted his head to the side in a way that signalled his skepticism even with the mask on.
“You say that, but…”
“Oh, come on, not everyone can be a giant like you. I’ve got my ways.”
Jason scoffed. “You’re really not being very convincing about the whole safety thing, kid. Unless you’re a meta or something, you’re gonna need protection.”
The boy rolled his eyes, and then looked thoughtful, brow creasing slightly. “Actually…” He looked around, making some small movements with his stick and murmuring something. Jason couldn’t make out the words, and didn’t see anything happen. Did the boy have a comm hidden somewhere?
Before he could decide how to act, the boy looked up at him and smiled. The smile looked genuine – not ecstatic, but definitely happy, and a bit cheeky. It transformed his whole face, and made him look very young.
“I’ve decided that since you’re technically my brother, I can tell you everything. MACUSA are not going to like it, especially since you’re a vigilante, but honestly that’s part of the appeal. If they wanted me to listen to them they should have sent help when we asked for it.”
Now Jason was even more confused. “Makuza? And what do you mean, everything?”
The boy’s smile widened. “Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Harry Potter, and I’m a wizard.”
Red Hood’s – Jason’s – confusion was evident even through the mask. Really, it was surprising how expressive he could be even in full armour. It was part of the reason Harry had decided to trust him – that and the upgraded sneakoscope he had in his pocket. For all his secrecy, Jason wore his emotions on his sleeve, and it made Harry feel safer around him. It reminded him of Ron.
‘Wizard? Like Zatanna? Or that asshole Constantine?’
Harry almost groaned out loud. He sort of admired John Constantine’s defiance of the Ministry and the Statue of Secrecy, but the man himself was insufferable. He’d only joined the order after Voldemort took over the ministry, and even then he mostly did his own thing, and generally disappeared whenever anyone really needed him.
‘Sort of?’ he summarised for Jason. ‘I don’t know who that Zatanna person is. Constantine’s a wizard, but he’s an outlier, because he doesn’t care about staying secret. There’s actually a whole lot of us…’
It didn’t take long for Harry to explain the existence of the magical world – it helped that Jason was a Gotham vigilante who had apparently returned from the dead and was used to the supernatural. Still, the man stayed sceptical, so Harry demonstrated a few spells for him. He’d already cast silencing charms and notice-me-nots on the roof earlier, so it was easy to transfigure some objects and summon a few trinkets. After poking at some of them, Jason declared that he was convinced.
‘Fuck, I need to sit down again. A whole secret society. There’s only so many revelations one vigilante can take before he needs a minute.’
So they sat back down on the edge of the roof, and Harry waited patiently for Hood to start speaking. He didn’t really want to admit it, but he was a bit nervous. This wasn’t just some random bloke, now – Jason was his brother, even if the connection was a bit distant. Harry had known, of course, that Bruce Wayne had a lot of children. But it was one thing to imagine his theoretical siblings, and quite another to realise that he was sitting next to one, and that he actually liked them. And that his sibling had also come back from the dead. What a family.
‘So… that’s how you came back from the dead, magic?’ Harry nodded. ‘And it’s how you found out B’s identity?’ Harry nodded again, and Jason chuckled. ‘This is great. Of course B couldn’t have a normal kid, we all have to be crazy assassins or magicians.’
‘We call ourselves wizards and witches, actually,’ Harry corrected. ‘Or wixen if you want to be gender-neutral. Don’t call a wizard a magician unless you’re trying to insult them.’
Harry couldn’t see Jason’s face, but he got the impression the man was smiling. ‘Kid, if you knew me any better you would not have told me that. So all I need to do to piss off Constantine is call him a magician?’
‘I don’t know if Constantine would be insulted… he’s sort of a fugitive because he reveals himself to muggles, so he’s probably used to the m-word.’
Jason, of course, wanted to know what muggles were, and then Harry had to explain squibs and muggleborns and blood purity. Jason was especially curious about the wizarding world’s fear of muggles.
‘So, what, they think if regular people learn about magic we’ll all suddenly start burning witches again? Don’t they know about the metas and aliens and shit?’
Harry grimaced. ‘And how well did that go for them? There’s still a lot of meta discrimination. I mean, I don’t think dropping the secrecy would be a huge catastrophe or anything, but I grew up with muggles and they were pretty prejudiced about magic.’
Harry tried not to put too much bitterness into that statement, but from the tilt of Jason’s head it was obvious he had understood the implications of the Dursleys’ prejudice. Harry had done a lot of research in the last few days, and although he didn’t remember much about the second Robin, he did remember Jason Todd’s origin story – even years later, there was still a lot of gossip about Bruce Wayne adopting a kid off the streets. It was obvious now why Red Hood had chosen Crime Alley.
‘Hmm.’ Jason sounded thoughtful. ‘You know, kid, I don’t want to be a spoilsport, but although all of this is interesting and shit, knowing you’re some sort of wizard doesn’t actually solve our secret identity problem. I get that you can protect yourself, but I still know fuck-all about you, except that you could easily turn my guns into doughnuts or something. I’ve been pretty chill until now because the pit likes you, but it’s getting early, so if you’re not planning to become B’s latest fostering project, you either need to give me some sort of guarantee, or I’ll have to tell the bats about you.’
Harry wanted to groan. He’d known telling Jason about his magic was a gamble, but he’d hoped knowing his secret would make the man trust him. Apparently, he’d underestimated the vigilante’s paranoia. Harry couldn’t blame him, but he also didn’t know what guarantee he could give Jason that the man would believe. They would need a third person for an unbreakable oath, and Harry wasn’t ready to give Jason blackmail material. He’d known from the start of the conversation that he might have to obliviate Hood, but he really didn’t want to do that. Harry had obliviated plenty of people during the war, but that was war, and this was – well, it was family drama. From everything Harry had read about Batman, he was pretty sure the man would try to find him if he learnt he had another son, and Harry still wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet his father.
Maybe he could get in touch with Constantine? He knew who Harry was, and he apparently worked with Batman in the – Harry wanted to hit himself.
‘Batman already knows about me.’
‘What? You said he didn’t –’
‘No,’ Harry corrected quickly. ‘Not about me being his son. But he’ll know who Harry Potter is, and he won’t mind me knowing your identities. Actually, he probably already knows about the wizarding world.’
‘And you’re just telling me this now? What the fuck, kid?’ Jason sounded annoyed, but it wasn’t Harry’s fault he had forgotten about the Justice League! He was new to the world of heroes and vigilantes, and his research had been limited to Gotham. The only reason he knew the Justice League existed was because Hermione had read a book about it, back when…
Harry quickly pulled his mind away from that memory, and raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘I forgot, okay! Muggle heroes are not exactly my cup of tea, but I was just thinking about Constantine, and I remembered that the Justice League knows about magic. I think they made a deal with the International Confederation of Wizards? I don’t remember what they agreed on, though…’
Jason huffed out a breath, and then laughed. ‘That’s all well and good, little brother, but how is that going to help? I need someone to vouch for you, not for the existence of magic.’
‘Oh, that should be fine! Anyone who knows about the magical world knows about me. Just ask Batman about Harry Potter.’
There was a long moment of silence, long enough for Harry to realise how arrogant that sounded and to start regretting his suggestion. It was true, though, that everyone would know who he was. And it wasn’t like Harry liked his fame.
Finally, Jason just sighed. ‘Fuck it. Of course B couldn’t have a normal child. At least you’re better company than the demon spawn.’ With that, Jason stood up and turned his back to Harry, walking towards the centre of the roof and raising a hand to his ear.
‘Hey, O? Yeah, I need you to ask B something…’
Harry turned back to watch the city, tuning out the conversation behind him. The sun had risen another few inches above the horizon, and Harry could hear movement starting in the street below. It was still early in the morning, but Gotham was never truly quiet.
He wasn’t worried about the identity issue – Batman would know about him. In a way, that knowledge was another reason not to reveal his relationship to the man. Vigilante kids were one thing, but who would want a war general for a son? What would Batman think about Harry not only killing Voldemort, but spending years trying to find a way to kill him? And Harry had also killed his share of Death Eaters. Merlin, he’d first killed a man when he was eleven years old.
Maybe it was best to leave Gotham. Jason should be satisfied by Batman’s confirmation, and Harry could leave right away, maybe even be gone in a few hours. Harry fingered the wad of cash in his pocket. Why didn’t that make him feel any better?
Harry heard the conversation end behind him, and turned to watch as Jason walked over to him and slid back down to sit on the roof.
‘Well, damn, kid,’ Jason said. ‘B is a cryptic bastard on his best days, but he recognised your name right away, and said you could be trusted. You must be a pretty big deal, eh?’
Harry knew he should be relieved. ‘Did he ask about me?’
‘It wouldn’t be B if he didn’t ask. Paranoid asshole.’ His voice turned deep and raspy. ‘“Be careful Hood. Wizards are powerful, and if you will not tell me anything then I cannot help you.”‘ Jason shook his head and leaned back on his elbows. ‘You’re lucky I’m not exactly known for cooperating with Batman, or he wouldn’t have let me go without an answer.’
So Harry could leave, and no-one except Jason would know he’d been here. And he would. But the rooftop was comfortable, and it was sort of nice to chat with Jason. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt.
‘He sounds annoying.’
‘Yeah.’ Harry could hear the smile in Jason’s voice. ‘The whole family’s like that. You let slip one measly piece of information, and they’re on you like bloodhounds. l once told Batgirl I couldn’t patrol with her because I had a date, and by the next morning everyone had done a background check on the guy and a few of them had stalked him. Red Robin complained about my date’s shitty file organisation system and Robin told me I’m not allowed to date someone who experiments on mice. Obsessive research is the family’s emotionally constipated way of showing love. That and letting you have the last of Al– of the cookies.’
Harry thought of long hours in the library with Hermione and Ron, researching solutions for Harry’s many problems. It was nice to have people who cared that much about you.
‘Are you really like a family, then? Not just a group of vigilantes?’ Much as he tried, Harry couldn’t keep the longing out of his voice.
If Jason noticed, he didn’t show it. ‘Those idiots are definitely a family, with all the dysfunctional shit that comes with that. Grandpa, father, and six kids. Me… I’m the estranged uncle everyone loves to hate.’
Something squirmed in Harry’s gut. Before, he’d just been worried about Batman wanting him to fight. But now... now he thought about the family. These were real people, people who loved each other, and who dealt with so much danger they were justifiably paranoid. What right did Harry have to come into their lives? He’d just ruin everything, like he always did. Jason’s death had obviously caused some sort of rift between him and Bruce, and Harry couldn’t do that to them again, not after he had torn the Weasley family apart. He was better off alone.
‘You’d fit right in, you know.’
Harry blinked. ‘What?’
Jason leaned forward to peer into Harry’s eyes. ‘I know that look, kid. You’re thinking that you’re too dangerous, that you should leave before you hurt someone.’
‘How…’
‘I’m not an idiot, even if I can’t turn lead into gold or whatever. If Batman knows about you, and says to trust you, that means you’ve been involved in some big shit, and tried to do the right thing. And you came here, to the ass-end of a foreign country, all for the chance of meeting your sperm donor.’ Jason sighed. ‘You’ve lost a lot of people, and you blame yourself. You don’t want to fight, but you have a hard time finding peace. You can’t remember the last time you felt safe, and just the thought of being vulnerable makes you shit your pants.’
There was bile in Harry’s throat, and his eyes were stinging. ‘I’m not –’
‘Kid.’ Jason sighed again, and then reached up and took off his helmet and mask, pushing his hood back. Harry blinked at the white streak in his dark hair, and at how young Jason looked – he was probably still in his early twenties.
Jason brought up a hand and rubbed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was tired. ‘Goddamit, I’m never gonna live this undead therapist thing down. If anyone knew I was giving you life advice, they’d send the whole Justice League to take me down.’ Jason gave a dry chuckle, then looked up at Harry, his green eyes serious.
‘Harry. I didn’t say all that crap because it’s bad. I mean, it’s shit that it happened to you, but it doesn’t mean you’re fucked, okay? I was just trying to say: welcome to the club.’
Harry stared at him. Welcome to the club. Could it be true? Was there a family waiting out there for him, a family where he could actually, finally fit in?
Even in the wizarding world, Harry had never been normal. He was the saviour, the villain, the prophecy child, the crazy liar. The one who was always in danger and yet never told anything. He’d had friends, of course, and even a family of sorts with Sirius, and before that with the Weasleys. But they had never been able to understand the burden he bore, how unfair it all was.
But Harry had done his research, when he realised that Bruce was Batman. In Gotham, Batman was always both the saviour and the villain. People expected him to solve everything and then cursed him when it went bad. Would Bruce understand? In a way, even the other bats were closer to Harry than most. Some of his information was spotty, but it seemed they had all led teams into battle at some point or another, and likely all had their own complicated backstories. Hell – Jason had even come back from the dead, just like Harry.
Did any of them lie in bed at night, wracked with guilt and fear? Did they flinch at the sight of green light, or stare longingly at the edge of a roof?
Did any of them carry ghosts with them everywhere they went?
Jason had been right about Harry, about his faults and fears. And didn’t that say everything, that he’d been able to get all that from a single conversation?
Welcome to the club.
You’d fit right in.
Harry could feel his objections crumbling around him, and grasped at the clearest one.
‘I am dangerous, though,’ he told Jason, failing to hide the way his voice shook. ‘There are probably still some powerful wizards after me, and even without that, I – I always manage to hurt people, somehow.’
To his surprise, Jason just snorted. ‘Have you heard about our villains, kid? These dangerous wizards, would you say they’re worse than the Joker? Or Two-Face? Are they anything Gotham hasn’t seen before?’
‘No...’ In truth, Gotham’s villains were terrifying. The Death Eaters had magic, yes, but none of them were insane to the same level of Gotham’s worst rogues, at least not the surviving ones. Harry tried to imagine Bellatrix meeting the Joker, and shivered. Nope.
‘But you could still get hurt. And it would be my fault.’
‘Of course you blame yourself – told you you’d fit right in!’ It seemed there was no dissuading Jason now. ‘It’s their choice, kid. Our choice. You’re not hiding the danger, not if B already knows all about you. And l for one would happily beat up some magical ass in return for a shiny new brother.’
‘You’d – really?’
‘Yeah, kid.’ Jason’s smile turned soft. ‘I like you, and that’s more than I can say for most of my shitty siblings. Us undead guys gotta stick together, no?’
Harry nodded, too full of emotion to speak. Jason – Jason wanted him. He thought his family would want Harry. He could feel his heart drumming rapidly in his chest, and tried to slow down his breaths.
Did he have any objections left? Examples swirled through his mind, but they were all about how Harry was bad, how he didn’t deserve this, how he would just ruin another family. He knew what Ron and Hermione would say about those thoughts: ‘Don’t be an idiot, Harry!’
It was just fear. Maybe it had all been fear all along, even his worries about the teenage vigilantes. And after all, wasn’t this what his friends had wanted for him when they begged him to give life another chance? A family who would understand. Not peace, maybe – it was obvious Gotham didn’t know the meaning of that word – but stability. A life away from his fickle fame and the bigotry of the wizarding world, yes, but a life where he could still use his magic.
‘Okay,’ Harry breathed, his voice hoarse.
Jason’s eyes widened with obvious hope. ‘Okay?’
Harry smiled tentatively. ‘Okay. I’ll give your mad bat family thing a try.’
Jason whooped, making Harry blink in surprise, and then leaned forward and pulled Harry into a hug. The Red Hood’s armour was hard and cold against his front, but Harry didn’t care. He clutched at the front of Jason’s jacket, and sank into the embrace, trying not to cry.
Jason tightened his arms around Harry’s back. ‘Welcome to Gotham, little brother.’
Well, maybe it was okay to cry.
All in all, Red Hood was proud of his first undead therapy session. Harry was far from okay, but the important thing was that he was staying, and they could help him. As bad as he was at most things, B did have a talent for helping traumatized orphans, and Alfred would patch up whatever holes B missed.
Jason still wasn’t sure why he’d stayed to help Harry. Maybe it was because he saw so much of himself in the kid, trip past the veil and all. Maybe it was because he knew this help was what his friends and family would want to offer him.
Whichever it was, there was one thing Jason knew for sure – he had to be there when Bruce introduced Harry to the rest of the family as his biological heir. The expression on the demon brat’s face would be priceless.