Supergirl harry revamp
It got to the point where she would look at the pendant falling asleep. Then she started wearing it underneath her uniform, even though it could get her punished. As long as it did not distract her, she was sure the Academy officials would not care. It was the inscription that bothered her the most, because she could not translate it, though she was fairly sure it was welsh. Finally, she wrote it down and brought it to the two people at the Academy who could speak Welsh. The squinted at it for a bit, but wrote down a translation.
“Fear not Death, but strive for valor, strength and greatness.”
It became a mantra, something she repeated to herself when they were training, or working out problems. Her head never stopped hurting when she looked at it, though.
Then, there was the book.
She now had time to work her own experiments with the time she had left in the day, and the book was something that became a novelty to her. When she opened it the second time, she found something, an experiment with equations and numbers, things not in modern math but she could understand it fairly well. She copied down the notations, and began working it out on her own. But it was quick work, almost like she had figured it out before. Sometimes the experiments the book provided her with made her head hurt, but not very often. It felt like math and science and everything she was good at, though some of it was a little strange and took her longer than a while to figure out.
Soon, she had a stack of the worked out experiments, neatly written out on unlined paper (the Academy preferred that you use graph paper for all official experiments, though that did not feel right). The book began showing her other things then, things which made her head ache, but seemed oh so familiar. It seemed like, in the back of her head, she realized that each of these things and all of the experiments would make sense if she could figure out one constant variable. She was only missing one thing and then everything else would fall into place.
HKE got her chance to figure it all out when the intercom called for them (by them of course, it was CS, and the others who never went home, who were there age and everyone who was one to two years older than them) just before lights out. They all thought it was a little strange, but they made an orderly line, and went into a part of the Academy they had never been. Many older people, who were most certainly not students, walked around giving orders to the guardians and having them line up in a certain order. She and CS were first.
As they were led into a room, one scientist said to another, “You’d think there’d be enough of us by now that we could do this more en masse.”
“Yeah well, the others have valuable experiments,” said the second scientist holding up his scalpel. “CS, you’re with Dr. Brynne, HKE you’re with me. Up on the table please, removed your jacket and shirt and lay belly down.” An older student HKE had seen around brought more medical instruments and began to lay them out. She caught sight of his face, and got one word as he mouthed it,
“RUN.”
“Dr. Tomlin?” she asked, toying with her pendant. “What procedure are we having done?”
“It’s just a standard procedure which essentially makes you an official member of the Academy,” Tomlin said. The elder student was shaking his head gently as he laid out the tools.
“And what happens during the procedure.” Tomlin sighed.
“JPE, could you get me a sedative please? Look, HKE, all the procedure is, is implanting a routine tracker, and information cell into you. Do you want the sedative? Or do you think you can manage?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. Something was wrong here. Something felt Dumbledore about this situation. She gripped the medallion harder, as Dr. Tomlin prepared the sedative. “I don’t want that,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as he came near her arm with the needle. She snatched her arm away, and jumped off the table, pulling on her jacket. CS did the same, ready to support her. “I don’t want to do this!” What did Dumbledore do? What were these men about to do to her? What was the dependent variable? She knew. She knew she knew, she just had to remember.
Tomlin was calling for two of the guardians to help restrain them when a hooing came down from the ceiling. A window had been prompted open, and ultimately it would be their undoing, as an owl flew down and dropped a letter, which HKE caught.
“To Ms. Harriet Katherine Eleanor Potter,” it read. “Arizona Desert, United States of America.”
“My Hogwarts Letter,” she whispered.
Dumbledore obliviated her. These men were going to hurt her.
The dependent variable was magic. Magic was real. She could do magic.
It had been welling up inside of her this entire time, giving the headaches so she would fight it and remember. Because Dumbledore had done something else. Something else that would be his undoing.
The guardians and the doctors advanced on them, but HKE simply snarled,
“Don’t touch me,” and the four of them flew back, and were knocked out against the wall.
“That was naughty, HKE,” said a voice in the intercom.
“You can go to sleep too!” she snapped. “And everyone with authority in this place! Everyone who did terrible things to us, you can all sleep until the noon sun is high in the sky!”
A quiet hummed inside the lab, and JPE breathed,
“Merde, they thought you were strong.”
“Are you all right?” SO looked into the lab. “We heard a crash and then all of the doctors and guardians fell asleep.”
“Everything’s fine for us,” CS told her. “But they were going to do something to us, something that HKE put a stop to.”
“They were going to implant a neural transmitter into you,” JPE said. “It’s something like mind control. I need you three to help me get mine out, and then we need to make fast work of evacuating the base.”
“I’m good with surgery,” SO volunteered. “So are two of the others.”
“Good, get them,” JPE commanded.
“How many of the olders are affected?” HKE asked.
“All of them who can’t go home,” JPE said. “We wanted so badly to tell you HK, but we knew we’d get caught. There are those of us who can do things like you just did, but they control us.”
“I’ll get everyone,” HKE said. “We’ll do those who’re good at surgery first, and then they can work on everyone else.”
“Good thinking,” JPE said. “When you find them, say that Jean-Paul has said that it is time to go. Check the other labs for the assistants first.”
“Rodger,” HKE and CS replied together. They sent the two in who were good with surgery to help get rid of Jean-Paul’s transmitter, and sent others along that they found in the labs. Then they went and roused all those who could not go home, who were really already awake and waiting for them. They all packed light, and many of them went to surgery.
“We’ve been planning this for a while,” said Mariane, one of the elders. She introduced herself as such and called over others. “We need to raid you younger’s work. You two cover your own age, we’ll get twelve and thirteen.”
“Rodger,” they replied, again together. They cleared out the bunks, taking anything there. HKE grabbed her bag and three others, before they swung by the study rooms, and collected all of the experimentation notes there. When they returned to the labs, there were several olders who were grimacing from pain, but began the preparations to evacuate. They all began loading the vans, and had one person from each age in a van. CS stoutly refused to leave in a different van than HKE and said so to one of the olders.
“It’s not like we’re even, we all just need one of each at least in one transport. Simon’s driving yours, so put you on his list,” said the older. Simon was sixteen, and he made note of it.
“Go grab some supplies you two,” he told them. They loaded all of the trucks, and a few hours before the sun rose, they were all driving out. A caravan of magical, soldier children, driving across the Arizona desert.
As they drove, Jean-Paul began their survival council. They had the heads from each year in their vans, and they started by introducing themselves, full names.
“I am Jean-Paul Delacour.” Jean-Paul was their eighteen-year-old. “French in nationality.”
“Francis Conner Wordsworth. I’d prefer Worth, if y’all didn’t mind.” Worth was seventeen. “From the US, originally.”
“Helena Oliva Winogrodzki.” Helena sixteen. “I am Polish.”
“Hope Moon Isles.” Hope fifteen. “I’m from Papua New Guinea.”
“Tal Asaf Zingel.” Tal fourteen. “Isreal.”
“Jason Theophylaktos Marinos,” who was thirteen. “Greece.”
“Illarion Evgeniyinvitch Filipov,” a twelve-year-old whose accent was still a little thick. “I am Russian.”
“Harriet Katherine Eleanor Potter,” HKE replied. “Welsh.”
“Haf you a brother?” Illarion inquired. “One named Thomas?”
“Yes.” Everyone in the van looked at each other, worry spreading from one set of eyes to the next.
“What did I miss?” CS asked. All eyes turned to him, and he replied, “Colt Shaker, now what’s this about HKE’s brother?”
“No more of that!” Helena commanded. “We are free now, we will not be dehumanized.”
“I’m not dehumanizing her,” Colt retorted. “She doesn’t like her name.”
“I think Harriet will be fine. They’re amazed at my brother, because he’s the boy-who-lived. He survived something called the killing curse and somehow destroyed a dark lord when he was just a baby.”
“What kind of magic do you do?” Hope asked. “I’m way out in the jungle, and even we’ve heard of Thomas Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“I’ve got Shaman blood in me,” Colt said, his eyes shifting. “For the most part, my people stay on the res.”
“Colt, we do not hide things from each other now,” Jean-Paul told him. “We are all out cast and unwanted. We will not judge you.” Colt still looked hesitant, but relented when Harriet squeezed his hand.
“My father is Coyote, the nature spirit,” Colt said. “My mother fell in love with him, and here I am. When she died, my uncle, our tribe shaman, sold me to the Academy.”
“This Coyote, he is like a god, yes?” Jason asked. “Why is this a bad thing?”
“Coyote takes many forms,” Colt explained. “He can be very benevolent and good to a people, be their protector, but he can also be a mean spirited trickster, prone to quick-anger. The fact that I am his son did not bode well with the tribe. It’s why they changed my name after my mother died. She always called me CS, but she meant it as Coyote Skinwalker, for my father.”
“Dun mean to interrupt the heart felt moment,” Worth said. “Because it’s great that we’re excepting and everything, but we need to find a place to hide, and quick and find a way to keep the Academy from finding us. Else wise, it’s not going to matter that we got away.”
“They’ll kill us,” Helena agreed.
“What was that about a Coyote?” Simon called from the front.
“Why?” Jean Paul asked.
“There’s one up here.” The van slowed, and came to a stop. Simon tried to drive around several ways but it did into appear to be working. Jean-Paul looked up front at the Coyote in the head lights and then back to CS.
“Which do you think he is now?”
“Protect,” CS replied instinctively.
“Follow him,” Jean-Paul told Simon, “and the others will follow us to wherever he may lead.”
“Fear not Death, but strive for valor, strength and greatness.”
It became a mantra, something she repeated to herself when they were training, or working out problems. Her head never stopped hurting when she looked at it, though.
Then, there was the book.
She now had time to work her own experiments with the time she had left in the day, and the book was something that became a novelty to her. When she opened it the second time, she found something, an experiment with equations and numbers, things not in modern math but she could understand it fairly well. She copied down the notations, and began working it out on her own. But it was quick work, almost like she had figured it out before. Sometimes the experiments the book provided her with made her head hurt, but not very often. It felt like math and science and everything she was good at, though some of it was a little strange and took her longer than a while to figure out.
Soon, she had a stack of the worked out experiments, neatly written out on unlined paper (the Academy preferred that you use graph paper for all official experiments, though that did not feel right). The book began showing her other things then, things which made her head ache, but seemed oh so familiar. It seemed like, in the back of her head, she realized that each of these things and all of the experiments would make sense if she could figure out one constant variable. She was only missing one thing and then everything else would fall into place.
HKE got her chance to figure it all out when the intercom called for them (by them of course, it was CS, and the others who never went home, who were there age and everyone who was one to two years older than them) just before lights out. They all thought it was a little strange, but they made an orderly line, and went into a part of the Academy they had never been. Many older people, who were most certainly not students, walked around giving orders to the guardians and having them line up in a certain order. She and CS were first.
As they were led into a room, one scientist said to another, “You’d think there’d be enough of us by now that we could do this more en masse.”
“Yeah well, the others have valuable experiments,” said the second scientist holding up his scalpel. “CS, you’re with Dr. Brynne, HKE you’re with me. Up on the table please, removed your jacket and shirt and lay belly down.” An older student HKE had seen around brought more medical instruments and began to lay them out. She caught sight of his face, and got one word as he mouthed it,
“RUN.”
“Dr. Tomlin?” she asked, toying with her pendant. “What procedure are we having done?”
“It’s just a standard procedure which essentially makes you an official member of the Academy,” Tomlin said. The elder student was shaking his head gently as he laid out the tools.
“And what happens during the procedure.” Tomlin sighed.
“JPE, could you get me a sedative please? Look, HKE, all the procedure is, is implanting a routine tracker, and information cell into you. Do you want the sedative? Or do you think you can manage?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. Something was wrong here. Something felt Dumbledore about this situation. She gripped the medallion harder, as Dr. Tomlin prepared the sedative. “I don’t want that,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as he came near her arm with the needle. She snatched her arm away, and jumped off the table, pulling on her jacket. CS did the same, ready to support her. “I don’t want to do this!” What did Dumbledore do? What were these men about to do to her? What was the dependent variable? She knew. She knew she knew, she just had to remember.
Tomlin was calling for two of the guardians to help restrain them when a hooing came down from the ceiling. A window had been prompted open, and ultimately it would be their undoing, as an owl flew down and dropped a letter, which HKE caught.
“To Ms. Harriet Katherine Eleanor Potter,” it read. “Arizona Desert, United States of America.”
“My Hogwarts Letter,” she whispered.
Dumbledore obliviated her. These men were going to hurt her.
The dependent variable was magic. Magic was real. She could do magic.
It had been welling up inside of her this entire time, giving the headaches so she would fight it and remember. Because Dumbledore had done something else. Something else that would be his undoing.
The guardians and the doctors advanced on them, but HKE simply snarled,
“Don’t touch me,” and the four of them flew back, and were knocked out against the wall.
“That was naughty, HKE,” said a voice in the intercom.
“You can go to sleep too!” she snapped. “And everyone with authority in this place! Everyone who did terrible things to us, you can all sleep until the noon sun is high in the sky!”
A quiet hummed inside the lab, and JPE breathed,
“Merde, they thought you were strong.”
“Are you all right?” SO looked into the lab. “We heard a crash and then all of the doctors and guardians fell asleep.”
“Everything’s fine for us,” CS told her. “But they were going to do something to us, something that HKE put a stop to.”
“They were going to implant a neural transmitter into you,” JPE said. “It’s something like mind control. I need you three to help me get mine out, and then we need to make fast work of evacuating the base.”
“I’m good with surgery,” SO volunteered. “So are two of the others.”
“Good, get them,” JPE commanded.
“How many of the olders are affected?” HKE asked.
“All of them who can’t go home,” JPE said. “We wanted so badly to tell you HK, but we knew we’d get caught. There are those of us who can do things like you just did, but they control us.”
“I’ll get everyone,” HKE said. “We’ll do those who’re good at surgery first, and then they can work on everyone else.”
“Good thinking,” JPE said. “When you find them, say that Jean-Paul has said that it is time to go. Check the other labs for the assistants first.”
“Rodger,” HKE and CS replied together. They sent the two in who were good with surgery to help get rid of Jean-Paul’s transmitter, and sent others along that they found in the labs. Then they went and roused all those who could not go home, who were really already awake and waiting for them. They all packed light, and many of them went to surgery.
“We’ve been planning this for a while,” said Mariane, one of the elders. She introduced herself as such and called over others. “We need to raid you younger’s work. You two cover your own age, we’ll get twelve and thirteen.”
“Rodger,” they replied, again together. They cleared out the bunks, taking anything there. HKE grabbed her bag and three others, before they swung by the study rooms, and collected all of the experimentation notes there. When they returned to the labs, there were several olders who were grimacing from pain, but began the preparations to evacuate. They all began loading the vans, and had one person from each age in a van. CS stoutly refused to leave in a different van than HKE and said so to one of the olders.
“It’s not like we’re even, we all just need one of each at least in one transport. Simon’s driving yours, so put you on his list,” said the older. Simon was sixteen, and he made note of it.
“Go grab some supplies you two,” he told them. They loaded all of the trucks, and a few hours before the sun rose, they were all driving out. A caravan of magical, soldier children, driving across the Arizona desert.
As they drove, Jean-Paul began their survival council. They had the heads from each year in their vans, and they started by introducing themselves, full names.
“I am Jean-Paul Delacour.” Jean-Paul was their eighteen-year-old. “French in nationality.”
“Francis Conner Wordsworth. I’d prefer Worth, if y’all didn’t mind.” Worth was seventeen. “From the US, originally.”
“Helena Oliva Winogrodzki.” Helena sixteen. “I am Polish.”
“Hope Moon Isles.” Hope fifteen. “I’m from Papua New Guinea.”
“Tal Asaf Zingel.” Tal fourteen. “Isreal.”
“Jason Theophylaktos Marinos,” who was thirteen. “Greece.”
“Illarion Evgeniyinvitch Filipov,” a twelve-year-old whose accent was still a little thick. “I am Russian.”
“Harriet Katherine Eleanor Potter,” HKE replied. “Welsh.”
“Haf you a brother?” Illarion inquired. “One named Thomas?”
“Yes.” Everyone in the van looked at each other, worry spreading from one set of eyes to the next.
“What did I miss?” CS asked. All eyes turned to him, and he replied, “Colt Shaker, now what’s this about HKE’s brother?”
“No more of that!” Helena commanded. “We are free now, we will not be dehumanized.”
“I’m not dehumanizing her,” Colt retorted. “She doesn’t like her name.”
“I think Harriet will be fine. They’re amazed at my brother, because he’s the boy-who-lived. He survived something called the killing curse and somehow destroyed a dark lord when he was just a baby.”
“What kind of magic do you do?” Hope asked. “I’m way out in the jungle, and even we’ve heard of Thomas Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“I’ve got Shaman blood in me,” Colt said, his eyes shifting. “For the most part, my people stay on the res.”
“Colt, we do not hide things from each other now,” Jean-Paul told him. “We are all out cast and unwanted. We will not judge you.” Colt still looked hesitant, but relented when Harriet squeezed his hand.
“My father is Coyote, the nature spirit,” Colt said. “My mother fell in love with him, and here I am. When she died, my uncle, our tribe shaman, sold me to the Academy.”
“This Coyote, he is like a god, yes?” Jason asked. “Why is this a bad thing?”
“Coyote takes many forms,” Colt explained. “He can be very benevolent and good to a people, be their protector, but he can also be a mean spirited trickster, prone to quick-anger. The fact that I am his son did not bode well with the tribe. It’s why they changed my name after my mother died. She always called me CS, but she meant it as Coyote Skinwalker, for my father.”
“Dun mean to interrupt the heart felt moment,” Worth said. “Because it’s great that we’re excepting and everything, but we need to find a place to hide, and quick and find a way to keep the Academy from finding us. Else wise, it’s not going to matter that we got away.”
“They’ll kill us,” Helena agreed.
“What was that about a Coyote?” Simon called from the front.
“Why?” Jean Paul asked.
“There’s one up here.” The van slowed, and came to a stop. Simon tried to drive around several ways but it did into appear to be working. Jean-Paul looked up front at the Coyote in the head lights and then back to CS.
“Which do you think he is now?”
“Protect,” CS replied instinctively.
“Follow him,” Jean-Paul told Simon, “and the others will follow us to wherever he may lead.”