Based on the idea that Malfoy could not get the vanishing cabinet to work effectively, and decided to mention, instead, that Hogwarts was taking the Great Hall wards down for a six-fucking-week course on Apparation.
This is what wouldn't happen. But it's where my mind went, first.
Warning: Graphic Violence
A loud crack signified the first successful Apparition.
Harry’s eyes, closed in preparation for his own attempt, snapped open and his head turned. It wasn't a student standing at the other end of the Great Hall, though. Harry jolted for his wand as other students began to turn to the cloaked figure, but before he could take aim there were four more sharp cracks.
Dark-robed, masked Death Eater’s were apparating directly into the Great Hall, the only place the castle wards were down for Hogwarts students to learn how to do the same.
Bellatrix LeStrange was the first to appear sans mask, having no need for discretion. She took in the scene with a cackle, batting away Harry’s immediate curse effortlessly as she cooed, “Aww, look at the wittle student's trying to learn!”
In his periphery Harry saw Neville lift his own wand, and they cast simultaneously. This time, Bellatrix twisted out of the way. “Do the wittle babies wanna play?”
“Sectumsempra,” Harry hissed with malice, fully aware of the spell's effects, now. Bellatrix’s eyes widened a bit even as she turned out of the way, quick as a dancer. The Death Eater behind her fell to their knees as their body was pulled apart by deep, horrible gashes.
More cracks sounded; Harry began to send out indiscriminate stunners, hoping to catch the intruders before they realised they were being cast at. They all came prepared for battle to have begun, shield charms springing around them immediately.
“Bombarda!” Ron called grimly.
“Expulso!” shouted Neville.
“Protego Maxima,” murmured Hermione. “Accio Susan Bones. Protego. Stupefy—students to the teacher's entrance!”
The frozen bodies of some of their yearmates seemed to jolt, realisation settling. Many students turned tail and ran.
Susan Bones, having narrowly been pulled out of the way of a powerful cutting curse that had gouged into stone walls by Hermione, was casting stunners, petrification hexes, and disarming charms. Harry was not nearly so restrained, once he realised the stunners were ineffective. Sectumsempra broke through shields like a battering drill and Death Eaters were falling, ripped apart by his fury. Curses flew from Harry's wand as fast as he could think of them: conjunctivitis, blasting, jelly-fingers, reductors, even slug-vomiting. He conjured six venomous snakes that shot off without instruction, knowing his will. Yet again and again, Harry came back to the Half-Blood Prince’s spell, the most devastatingly effective of them all. People were dying from its effectiveness, but Harry didn’t care, because they had dared step foot in Hogwarts—
A horrible pressure was building in Harry’s head as half the hall emptied. A wand prodded Harry’s spine, and he stilled, shaking with rage and adrenaline. “Call—call off the snakes, Potter,” a somewhat familiar voice demanded shakily.
“I’d rather they bite your father, Nott,” said Harry coldly. “Drop your wand before I have to make you regret it.”
The wand trembled, for a moment, against his spine. “C-Cruci—”
Harry drove his elbow back, hard, and slammed down one foot on Nott's. The taller boy stumbled back in pain, and it was no great difficulty to stun him. He hit the floor, hard, and Malfoy’s grey eyes were large and frightened as he stared at Harry, still as prey.
At once, Harry realised what he had done “You,” he said, scar pulsing horribly. “You did this. You brought war to a school filled with literal children, you stupid, useless brat. You're scared of what Voldemort will do to you? Just wait, Malfoy. His punishment would be bliss compared to what you deserve for this.”
“Such a temper, Harry Potter,” came Lord Voldemort’s cold voice. He had made no sound as he apparated, not like his followers, but Harry’s viciously prickling scar had made his imminent arrival clear. “You have done well, Draco. You will be… rewarded.”
Malfoy’s eyes darted in fright from Harry to the Dark Lord, and Voldemort was barely in time to hiss “Stop,” to the snake that had snuck up on the boy.
“You don't obey him,” Harry hissed, “you’re mine. Do what you’re made for, dear one.”
Draco turned just in time to see the snake strike out at his neck. It vanished before its fangs could load the boy with venom, and Harry turned his hateful scowl to Voldemort, who’s gaze already rested upon him, intent, heavy and fascinated.
“Deal with it, Hermione,” he snapped.
“Harry—” came Hermione’s warning voice, but Harry couldn’t listen, had to dodge out of the way of Voldemort’s spell. The Dark Lord tilted his head, stare thoughtful, and then turned his yew wand… away.
Harry watched him with a wariness not misplaced: Romilda Vane, nearly out of the Great Hall via the Professor’s entrance, fell to the cruciatus curse with a cry of pain.
“Drop your wands, children,” the Dark Lord said, red eyes still locked on Harry as his soft, cold voice echoed through all corners of the room, carried by wandless magic.
Harry grit his teeth at the seeming opportunity, well aware of Voldemort's objective. And yet, truly, he could not have picked a worse target to try and bring Harry under his control than the girl who had nearly raped him. He cast a wordless sonorous on himself to refute the order: “Don't give an inch. There are First Years in these walls. Do to them what you would to Umbridge. They're twice her threat. Any student who raised a wand to help Voldemort’s sect will be treated as hostile. See how I handle my enemies, Goyle, and ask yourself if that cheap shot is worth your life.”
Even as he spoke, Harry turned from Voldemort, dismissive, and focused on thinning the herd. Thirteen Death Eater’s still stood, including Bellatrix, who was engaged with Neville and Ron. Harry used every spell that came to his mind, even those from the Half-Blood Prince’s book he had not tested before. One man was effectively eviscerated, much to Harry’s disgust. He only used that spell once.
When he saw one of his snakes change course he pulled the magic from them, an effective banishment, cold eyes finding Voldemort again. He had not heard the man speak parseltongue, and indeed he was still holding the crucio, face twisted strangely as he watched Harry.
“My, my,” said Voldemort, immediate once he had regained Harry’s attention, two more of his people fallen, “so vicious, little snake. Does Dumbledore know you have venom?”
“I don't give a fuck what he knows,” Harry said harshly. “This is a school.” This is my home. “Focus on the bloody Ministry, and leave children out of it.”
Voldemort had the gall to laugh, high and cold. “This is not merely a school, Harry Potter,” he said. “There is a reason you children stand your ground and fight. This is where Dumbledore trains his small, young army to go to war and die, as their parents did before them.”
Wrath bubbles in Harry, heavy and explosive, and he must look as unhinged and inhuman as the man watching him as he cages it behind his teeth. He flicks a shield charm around Bones and Abbott before a reductor hits, and a disarming charm hits the perpetrators back. He breaks the dark-wooded wand into two pieces the moment he catches it.
“You truly think Dumbledore has taught us anything? Even my ‘private lessons’ with the man are just memories of your life, as if I care that you got away with murder when you were still sixteen.” Hermione pulls Vane’s still writhing body from the room, and Voldemort’s cruciatus ends, but he does not seem to notice or care, eyes locked on Harry. “The only reason I fight is because I do not believe in the world you are trying to create. Because you say things like ‘magic is night' and still try to subjugate witches and wizards, as if the fresh magic in their veins is poisoned by the muggles they're born to. I defy you, Lord Voldemort, because you decided your best course was killing a baby over a half-heard prophecy, and still try to kill me to this day. I am not going to stand here and let you. I don't believe ‘magic is might’. I've already killed many of your people tonight… but that—that wasn’t over ideology. That is because I will kill as many as it takes to keep your grasping, greedy fucking hands out of my school.”
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For "your court of owls batfam" au , how would Bruce react if Cobb ever got seriously hurt to the point of maybe having to be replaced? Also how do Dick and Jason feel about Cobb? Do they get along or is it strictly professional?
MWAHAHA I GOT ONE PERSON INTERESTED IN THIS AU ALREADY! *cheers*
Okay so Talon lore is that very little can keep a Talon down permanently. They can even regrow limbs if given enough time! So that’s neat. But basically replacing Talons isn’t a practice often exercised.
I know the Court canonically tried getting rid of Cobb in the Court of Owls saga because he got defeated by Batman and they didn’t think he’d “recover from the shame of being so thoroughly deafeated”.
It therefore stands to reason that he’s aware that he’s easily replaceable (there is always more than one Talon at any given time, although stored away in cryo usually) if he doesn’t perform to the Court’s expectations. Cobb is the best, been the best, Talon for over a century (?) now, but that means nothing if he fails to fulfill his missions.
So let’s say Cobb gets heavily injured by something that shouldn’t have been much of a challenge for a Talon. Let’s say his inattention/hubris/whatever nearly gets Bruce killed—-
That would be scandalous.
For one, his injuries will take several weeks to heal. Weeks in which the Voice will be virtually defenseless without their Talon. This is unacceptable.
And Two, some regular two bit criminals should have never been able to best a Talon in such a way. It’s a disgrace to the Court.
No, no, a new Talon must take Cobb’s place now. He has become obsolete. His services have been appreciated, but, “oh, you understand dear Talon, don’t you? The weak must be culled from the flock”.
And Cobb understands. He does. He’d thought- he thought he’d have more time, though. Time to convince Bruce to let him train the boy after all, to make sure his Voice is protected even after Cobb is gone. That the Court’s machinations will not see Bruce dead before the year is done because the new Talon will not know that Bruce is the best thing to have happened to the Court in a century. They will end up killing Bruce, killing Dick— (he shouldn’t care- he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t-)
But then Bruce storms into the labs like the onset of a hurricane, all righteous fury and indignation, Dick hot on his heels (wide eyed and still too little with not enough training to hold out against the new Talon long enough to at least escape) demanding what the fuck is going on and why his Talon isn’t back by his side yet.
And he doesn’t accept the scientists’ reasonings that Cobb has done his duty; has become “outdated”. Doesn’t accept the reassurances of the “new one” being just as good— no, better, than the previous one. Doesn’t accept that a new Talon is supposed to protect him now. (“Him or none,” Bruce says, tone colder than the permafrost of the arctic, and at his side Dick’s eyes flash with unvoiced threat. “Now get out of my way.”)
As to the relationship between Cobb and the kids, well. His and Dick’s relationship is tense at first. Cobb has no interest being anything of a family to him despite their blood relations. He only sees Dick as a potential new (and perfect) Talon that could keep Bruce safe if he himself is deemed “outdated”. He’s not happy about all the potential “going to waste” by Dick being made Bruce’s ward, being allowed to live a sort of normal life. But once Dick approaches him for some training in physical combat… well. Sorry, Cobb tried. He really did. But Dick Grayson invented charisma, and even Cobb isn’t immune. He grudgingly starts liking the kid but will deny that until he’s blue in the face. Dick ends up being the Gray Son of Gotham, the highest ranking court member after Bruce with the training of a Talon.
With Jason it’s more straight forward. At first Cobb is pissed at Bruce for taking in a “street rat” and intending to adopt him, but… well, Jason grows on him “like fungus” (a direct quote). At first Cobb doesn’t really know what to make of Jason. The kid is loud and aggressive, but shrinks away like a wilting flower at the first signs of someone raising their voice. (He’s soft, Cobb thinks. The Court will eat him alive.)
But Jason’s also got a spine of steel as he clearly demonstrates when he jumps Cobb with a knife after an unfortunate misunderstanding where he assumed Bruce was in danger of him, and that kind of loyalty at least he can work with. (The kid’s still soft inside as all get out, but he’s excellent at covering it up with violence and bravado, and his charm is that he’s honest in a way so utterly foreign to the Court that it endears him to all the trustworthy members within a few months).
Jason becomes The Heart of the Court, the morality that Bruce was starting to have trouble clinging to; keeping them all on the right path towards a better future. A better Gotham.
(Cobb absolutely loves the children as much as Bruce does. It just takes him a bit longer to get there. And Jason is his favorite sorry I don’t make the rules. COUGH.)
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“I ask for what must be. You have the skills, the heart, the right, and the need to do what I have asked. Believe what I have told you. Do as I have said. Then will the Shadowen be destroyed.”
•••
[Image ID: Par Ohmsford, from the elbows up. The background behind him is contrasting shades of red. He is wearing a brown tunic over a darker, long-sleeved shirt with a blue cloak wrapped around his neck. He is looking to his right with a worried expression, one hand at his heart. He has light skin, greenish eyes, and blonde curly hair reaching down past his chin. His ears are pointed. A red light creeps up from the bottom, the light reflecting in his eyes. There is gold border with text on either side of him, reading from left side to right: “Par Ohmsford, bearer of the Wishsong’s promise, I charge you with recovering the Sword of Shannara—Only through the Sword can the truth be revealed.” /End ID]
[Image ID: Wren Elessedil, from the elbows up. The background behind her is contrasting shades of teal. She is wearing a purple shirt, dark belt with gold platings in the middle, and a red cloak that covers part of her left arm. A black arm brace covers her right wrist/hand and she is holding a leather pouch by the strings. She has tan skin, hazel eyes, and ashy blonde hair, curly and cut short. Her ears are pointed. A light blue light is glowing around her from the bottom, reflecting in her eyes as well. There is a gold border with text on either side of her. Reading from left side to right, it says: “Wren, child of hidden, forgotten lies, yours is a charge of equal importance—Find the Elves and return them to the world of men.” /End ID]
[Image ID: Walker Boh, from the elbows up. The background behind him is contrasting shades of blue. He wears a dark green, loose-fitted tunic with a brown cloak around his shoulders. His dark hair is long and slightly wavy, and he has a short beard. He has brown eyes and pale skin. His right sleeve is empty and cut short. His left arm is cradled close to his chest, his hand curled up as if holding something. His ears are slightly pointed. A dark blue light creeps up him from below, reflecting in his eyes. Around him is a golden border with text on either said. Reading from left side to right: “Walker Boh, you of no belief, seek that belief - and the understanding necessary to sustain it—Search out disappeared Paranor and restore the Druids.” /End ID]
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After one Christmas (youngin' Dick, Roy, kaldur, and Wally)
Dick: man, Santa is lame. Coal on Christmas, you'd think dead parents would give you a small edge but old man cruel like the rest.
Roy: honestly, he sucks. *Throws coal down in the pile*
Kalder: it's why we don't celebrate Christmas where I'm from.
Dick: well Wally, what did you get for Christmas?
Wally, sniffling: I got nothing, I guess I was really bad this year. He didn't even eat the cookies I made, I know they were not cute but I tried really hard.
Dick:
Kaldur: what the...
Roy: oh hell no, we finding this jackass.
The boys gets up
Bruce: where are you two going?
Oliver: and why is Wally crying?
Dick, suiting up: we're going to the north pole.
Roy: that fuck head bitch didn't even give Wally anything, like hell we're letting that shit slide.
Kaldur: like who does that to him!?
Bruce, to Oliver: but he ain't real, is he?
Oliver: I don't think so... Let's just follow them.
At the north pole
Dick: you gave Wally nothing, all he asked for was a flash toy and you thought he didn't deserve it!? *Kicking Santa*
Roy: we can forgive the coal, but not even stopping at Wally's house for anything!? He worked hard on those cookies for ya asshole! *Punching Santa*
Santa: Bruce! Oliver! Please stop them!
Bruce: no.
Oliver: you skipped the only good child we have that celebrate Christmas, we're not helping you.
Kaldur: don't move elves.
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