Eventually there will be dialogue, it just so happens that these first two chapters haven't had character interaction in that sense (and the third won't have a whole lot, either).

The weather here was warmer than the world Harry had left. The sky had been overcast there, though, so Harry could not say whether that was because this place was warm or the other cool.

Nor did it matter. If he was dropped straight into this world, it meant there was no time to be wasted learning about the climate. He could breathe, and it was neither cold nor hot enough to affect his capabilities. That meant he only had to worry about the vertigo that would come once he moved.

He stood, stumbled, and emptied his stomach on the wall he fell against as the world spun. Finishing, Harry grunted and pushed himself away from the bricks. He was annoyed that, even now, the sensation caused him such distress. He would expect some level of resistance to build up over time. And time was one thing he this employment had taken from him in abundance.

The world was a blur, reminding him of a time, many lives ago, when his vision had been flawed. When he had worn… glasses, to correct that flaw. Another reason it would be of a benefit to him to take some time to adjust, but his reasoning still stood. This world didn't have time for him to sit and wait for his body to adjust itself to this new environment.

Harry closed his eyes, and extended his magic. It rushed from his pores, and the world around him came into focus in his mind's-eye. The alley he was in had little of interest. The dumpster halfway between Harry and the mouth was empty but for a crust of mould on the bottom, and the metal bins on either side did not have even that. The bricks were unweathered, suggesting that the buildings they belonged to were relatively new additions to the area. Shops, perhaps. The only people in either were on his right, motionless and devoid of energy. They must be… fake humans. The ones that were dressed to showcase clothing. Harry could not remember what they were called; it was a useless piece of information, and one he had not had use for for too many years to count.

The area beyond the dead stores was of more interest to Harry than the immediate vicinity, and began to explain the reason that he was placed in this spot.

The commotion was being watched by civilians cowering in doorways or at either end of the street. Harry felt the air shifting around those nearest him, and noticed the loss of hearing he was experiencing. His deafness was temporary, no more worrying than any other side effect of being tossed between dimensions. Easily forgotten, thanks to months of chaos and screaming.

The people, nine of the twelve being male, were shouting something. Their arms were raised, as though their words were of rebuke, and Harry's attention lingered on them for a millisecond or two. His mind, in this state, rarely did more than registering a person and the tone of their energy. This, though, was interesting; it was as though they were at a sporting event. As though brawls in the street that produced violent spikes of magic… or something similar, were commonplace.

Harry could not understand the why of their actions without looking deeper, and Legilimency at this distance and in his state would take minutes, rather than seconds. He could not spare minutes, and so would need to discover their mindsets when he was done, if it was important.

In the centre of the commotion, there were two females who were undeniably different to the armoured figures circling them. One was in agony on the floor, and she stood out amongst the crowd. A pillar of light ablaze amongst fireflies. But her light was muffled by something else. An energy very different from her own encased the girl, and seemed to be the cause of her pain.

The other girl, a human Harry almost dismissed in comparison to her unique companion, was retracting from the wing-less alien. She had tried to remove whatever was binding the other girl, and had apparently been caused pain by the action. She would fall to the floor in seconds, unconscious, and Harry expected that would signal the end of this fight.

He agreed with the effort, though. As a human, her spark was only that. A spark. Like all non-magicals by birth, she had some potential, but her core was only enough to give her life and that potential was limited. The others around were stronger. They could not match the captured alien's strength, but their glow was greater than that of a human. The human girl would not have stood a chance against them even in a level playing field, let alone as outnumbered as she was. Even the most remarkable of human warriors would be quickly overwhelmed by the odds. With the magical weapons in their hands, the fight would take seconds at most.

Less, based on the crippling pain their energy was causing the alien-girl. He wondered what that was. It felt as though they had mixed magic and electricity, but Harry thought such a thing to be impossible. He could barely allow mechanical gadgets to function in the presence of magic, let alone work with it. The closest he had come was to, through significant effort, let them run on magical energy.

But what they were, and the technology of their race, wasn't important. The glow that came from the weapons that had been drawn was significant. Harry had to assume that it would spike, again, when a blow was struck. He could not know how dangerous even one would be to him. There were twenty-one of them, each with a wielder, and that meant they had to be considered as something approaching formidable. Unlike the humans he had just fought.

His eyes remained closed as Harry fell to a crouch.

He hesitated for a moment, in that position, as the energy beneath his skin sizzled. He couldn't treat them with the certainty he held when facing humans, lest their strength take him off guard, but under-doing it was preferable to going overboard. At least, it was on a populated world.

So he had to make a judgement call. If he was wrong, there was every chance the tide of this skirmish would turn further against those already losing.

How much power could he use on them?

Ideally, they would survive the encounter, but when two forces clashed people died. There was nothing Harry could to change that nature of battle, and the droplets of blood that would stain his hands were nothing compared to the ocean already marking him. Fatal spells would be acceptable, because Harry needed to assert that they wouldn't get back up and drive a sword through his back.

But he couldn't go all out. He couldn't even use a fraction of his power, in fact. Of course he couldn't; there was no reason to take the spectators with these combatants. Harry had to bear in mind their power, and the chasm between them and him.

They were not gods, and Harry had no desire to obliterate them.

So he would stick to his basic gifts. The magic used by wand-wizards, and the result of her experiment only a few years after his role had begun; the magic was only dangerous if uncontrolled, or if he decided it should be.

He would give them a test. If they fell to a simple area-spell, there would be no reason to finish them off. If not, there was no skin off Harry's back.

As he leapt into the sky, the lids stayed covering his emerald orbs. He soared upwards, the peak of Harry's jump being thirty metres above the rooftops, and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was cleaner than he had experienced for months. The previous world's atmosphere had been polluted by death.

Even as a mid-length blade, with a longer handle than would usually be found on a short-sword, appeared in his hand, Harry Potter relied on the sight his mind's-eye provided. He would throughout the fight.

By the time he fell from the sky, the human-girl was unconscious and twitching on the floor next to her ally. The other aliens moved towards their prizes, and Harry sensed seven of the fifteen weapons that had been drawn were now sheathed. They believed the fight was done, and were complacent.

Good. Harry didn't know their capabilities, and an advantage of surprise was welcome.

Harry took hold of the short-sword's extended handle with his left hand, as well as the right, as he neared his landing spot. The alien was motionless, letting the others move to capture or kill the girls they had defeated, and his weapon was devoid of life at his hip. That made Harry's job easier, again.

The wings on the male alien's back did not feel like feathers. Harry assumed that they, too, would serve as some form defense. They did nothing to hinder him, though, as they rested folded against his target's upper back. He fell to the earth, and the alien's head began to tilt upwards, perhaps noticing a shadow, as Harry struck.

This first alien would give Harry an idea of their physical composition. He had met species, in the past, that looked to be made of flesh and blood but whose skin was impenetrable without a truly magical blade.

Harry cleaved the man from shoulder to hip, carving through the armour with virtually no resistance with the magically-sharp blade, and the man's blood spilled onto Harry's back as he drove the point of his sword into the ground.

His mind's-eye saw no colour, just the nature of the magic that exploded outwards from that point, but Harry knew the stunning magic to have a deep ruby colour. It would have been brilliant to behold, in this form, as it exploded into a dome and outwards.

As the avian-humanoid aliens were engulfed, Harry was already rising to his feet. His blade came with him, but was unused as he planted his palm in the chest of the cut alien. Magic flashed again, and the avian-man was tossed backwards as though a child had grown sick of its doll.

Harry pounced, lunging into the air and catching the brightest of the soldiers in an embrace as many others began to drop around them. One thing Harry had learned was that many other races had a greater endurance to wide-range spells than humans. He was not surprised, so much as disappointed, that a little over half had only been dazed by the stunning dome. Nor was it shocking that many of those that fell were the ones who had sheathed their weapons prematurely, which showed a certain mental mental weakness; their spirits did nothing to resist Harry's spell.

The blade pierced the winged-alien's chest, and Harry pushed against gravity as he planted a foot against the man and shoved him off the blade. Blood sprayed in the air as the armoured man fell backwards, and Harry spun in the air. With a snapping of his elbow, he threw the blade at the nearest fighter. It buried in the woman's skull, and her light fled instantly. Her helmet clicked against the floor as she landed, evidently worthless against any fighter of significant strength. Perhaps they had not considered that someone of Harry's ability would be present? Though the bright-but-unconscious girl would have the strength to kill them, even with the armour, surely.

And if she was part of a pacifistic race, why would they need to capture her?

Harry allowed gravity to take effect, and landed poised to begin again. He lunged, quick and arching, and blue light shone from his hands. The markings he was so used to were alight, as the magic in his blood broiled. His hands caught the ankles of one of the aliens, and the man yelled as his flight was interrupted by the unexpected weight. Harry's feet touched the ground, and his arms yanked down. The armoured man's face was the first thing to meet the ground, and Harry's ears caught the sound of his bones crunching as his skull met concrete. The man was without a helmet, but even defended his brain would have bounced around inside.

Harry threw himself backwards out of the path of a thrown axe, and the weapon passed within inches of his face. The electricity around the blade was closer still, and almost brushed against him.

Sloppy, Harry berated himself, in the quiet of his own mind.

Harry was still in the air when another spell leapt at the offender. The light that shot from his palm was purple to those with open eyes, and the use of such magic would have sickened the wizard in his youth. The bolt caught the thrower in the shoulder, and the man fell. It would be some time until somebody discovered the twin streaks of blood from his eyes, and the crimson colour of his sclera. The alien was dead as could be, though the cause would take more time again to discover. The aneurism Harry had caused was massive, but surprisingly subtle when compared to many of the other spells so effective in the ending of lives.

Harry landed in a roll, kept moving and casting.

Four were dead, ten were unconscious, one was dying. That left six. A voice niggled Harry reminding him that it was sixteen, so long as ten were alive. They could become a threat at any moment.

The wizard shook his head. There was no reason to condemn them to death, while they still slept soundly.

Five, as Harry sent another simple, effective spell into the gut of the largest of their number, even if the man's girth was not indicative of threat. The man dropped, spasming, to the ground. Most likely, the nerve-stimulating spell would not kill him, but unless he had an incredible will the man would never recover from the damage to his nerve endings. Certainly not before the end of this fight, if the showing so far was indicative of the aliens' toughness.

Of the five left, three were closer to the incapacitated girls. They should have taken them hostage. That would be the logical thing to do, even if it would not have worked, as they could have distracted Harry if nothing else. But that course of action, apparently, did not occur to the aliens. They rushed to face him, meaning Harry had to worry about the two nearer.

The magic flooding Harry's blood had long-since saturated his muscles, and the benefits were clear as a spear was stabbed towards his ribs. Harry's palms closed over the shaft, below the spearhead, and he forced the weapon upwards, stepping forwards with the motion as the alien's shock radiated from him. Harry would later decide that was because the man could see his eyes were closed, but at the time paid it no mind.

Harry's magic lashed out, and the internal energy of the beings around was eclipsed by it. Even the energy of gods was muffled when inside, and the pure magic that leapt from Harry's skin was dazzling. That was transferred to the alien, as the whip of magic struck his ribs and branded him with the long, thin, glowing mark. The man was thrown away, and Harry was vaguely aware of the car that crumpled as the alien struck it.

Harry ducked low next, an electrified sword passing harmlessly through the air and leaving a streak of white for Harry's inner-eye, as he spun with the spear in a tight grip.

The tip slipped under the armour, piercing the alien's abdomen. The man gasped, and Harry heard it. Not too jarring a trip, then, if his deafness was fading already. The man's blood spilled over Harry's hands as he twisted the haft, and cast his magic upon the weapon. Channelled through the spear, it reached Harry's stabbed enemy in a moment. The man's heart stopped, and Harry pulled the weapon free of its trap.

Harry let the weapon fall to the floor upon seeing that the three remaining had hesitated at the display. They were only just moving as the eighth alien perished.

A tendril of Harry's magic slithered off the back of his right hand, as Harry stood with his eyes closed. The nature changed, and the colour would have done the same for those with open eyes. The deep red of a stunner formed the shape of a whip, as Harry raised his hand perpendicular to his shoulder. His hand wrapped around the magic, energy turning solid with his will, and swung it like a whip.

His arm, and the magic that accompanied it, left a trail of glowing shapes in the air behind. A pattern that may have been beautiful, had Harry not seen the like time and time again.

The three crumpled, falling to the floor, and Harry opened his eyes.

The scene before him, when the world stopped spinning, was one of carnage.

His stunner had been weak by the time it reached the crowd, the energy having dispersed into a wider area by that time, so there were only three of fifty that had fallen unconscious. He would debate whether that was a good or bad thing later, weighing the upside of not rendering civilians unconscious against the cons of those same civilians seeing him practice magic so soon after arrival, but grimaced seeing the devices that the majority of the observers held. Compared to the energy it took to keep a person alive, the battery of a mobile phone was insignificant, hence his missing the tiny lights while briefly scanning them.

Harry guessed, upon his first glance of this world, that they were advanced. Not to the level of the futuristic worlds he had seen, since none of those present seemed to be mechanical servants, but enough for communication devices to fit in a pocket and include cameras.

Harry ventured a guess that he would be here for some time; he had not been pulled out yet, so this single event didn't hold some monumental significance, therefore he had some other task to see to completion. But it had to be part of the task, Harry was certain; had it not been, he would not have been thrown into this… town, Harry judged, from the buildings and people. Houses and small shops, seeming to be split between chain-stores and locally owned. Harry recognised a coffee shop, and shook his head in slight amusement and bemusement. Somehow, Starbucks existed in the majority of modern Earths he had visited. An anomaly, or some eternal being amusing itself, it didn't matter. It was just a curiosity.

Harry heard a cry from behind him, and was reminded of the powerful girl. He turned, and stepped towards her with some confusion. It was odd that she had weathered the stunner, given that her nerves should have been raw from whatever was caging her. Perhaps the bonds had protected her, by either absorbing or repelling the magic.

Then, the wizard stopped as his foot tried to slip out from under him. The blood on the ground was slick, and the leather boots he wore were worn from use. So were the trousers Harry wore. He would need to either find or make some new attire when he as done here.

That thought reminded Harry of his lack of a shirt. And with it came another problem.

The markings adorning his body were largely confined to his arms and torso; in his youth, Harry had asked for that. It had seemed important at the time, though he could no longer remember the reasons. Harry wondered what the humans would make of the symbols, but the greater concern was the fact that they made him extremely recognisable. They were almost impossible to miss, when combined with his musculature. That meant a haircut and shave would only do so much.

And he couldn't hide them through shifting. He could apply glamours, but the magic that had been used to brand him was… greater than that type of spell. It'd be overpowered after a brief fight, and Harry's efforts would be for nought.

His hand traced the Ankh over his heart, and Harry shook his head. Short of wiping the spectators' memories, there was nothing to be done to rectify that mistake. And their phones would still have pictures and videos of him; if they were saved to a cloud, or whatever it may be called here, such actions would only make the situation worse.

Harry waved a hand at the floor, and the gore that was between him and the girl he now saw was either a petite blonde in a rather tight white shirt, red cape and blue skirt, or an also petite redhead in a rather tight outfit that, for some reason, resembled the likeness of a bat. And also had a cape. The puddle of blood disappeared, along with the rest, as Harry noted the thick wire wrapped around the blonde, and that this meant she was the restrained alien.

Harry raised his hand, preparing to dismantle the cable, and hesitated.

He stepped closer, and crouched next to the girl, as the helmet of the nearest winged-figure hopped into his hand. It shone blue for a second as he turned the object into a portkey that would pull him to the alley in which he had woken after ten seconds.

Harry laid a finger on the metal, and waited for the shock that was sure to come. It didn't. All he felt was a tingling warmth that came from any raw form of energy, and was pleasant for someone with Harry's particular cocktail of abilities. That meant he hadn't needed to worry about the weapons the invaders wielded.

Harry's mind moved to memories that he despised.

The helmet fell from Harry's grip as his teeth clenched, and he forced himself to look at the face of the girl he was helping. He hoped the action would do something to distract him, and was glad that it did.

As his eyes met brilliantly blue orbs, Harry realised something; the girl was beautiful. As attractive as many of the goddesses Harry had met. Yet she was mortal. Blonde hair caught the sun in a way Harry had never seen before, and framed flawless skin as sweat beaded on her forehead. An effect of the painful energy.

Harry considered her, as her blue eyes stared back at him with defiance, and nodded to himself. Whatever the purpose of his being here, it had to involve this girl; to be placed next to someone so different from the common stock was no coincidence. He glanced at the inside of his left elbow, but there was no mark there just yet. He expected that, over the next few hours, a shield with an angular S would appear. There would be no compass this time, as he already knew who he would be protecting, but he'd be given the facts of this alien teenager when they saw fit to bring him into their dimension.

The girl tried to hide a flinch as Harry reached out a hand, he hadn't noticed if she'd done so the first time, and stiffened further when a yellow spark jumped from his finger and onto the cable encasing her. Then, she just looked at him in shock as the restraints fell away. Harry felt a desire to see what she was thinking, and fought it off. She may need to trust him for his goal to be achieved, and reading her thoughts would hinder that.

Harry stood, and stepped back while keeping his eyes on the girl. He wondered what her power meant. Her magic was strong enough to have blessed her with beauty, but that would not be the extent of her changes. Harry was curious to see what else there was.

Then she was on her feet. The series of movements in the act of standing had been incredibly quick. Harry had seen a blur of motion, but that had lasted for barely a millisecond.

Interesting.

The girl stared past Harry, at the bodies he had left behind, with a confused expression- horror in her eyes. Harry wondered why, as the girl looked at him with curiosity that he was sure would be mirrored in his own gaze, but did not ask. She was judging him, and was near to condemnation. Her mind could be made up for her easily, so Harry stayed silent and still.

The girl's head snapped from Harry to the girl on the ground next to her.

'Babs!' She had a pleasant voice. Full of youthful worry. Harry watched as she moved with the same speed as before to kneel at the other girl's side. Harry did not know what their relationship was; she could have been adopted by the girl's family, the two could be friends, or they could be lovers. Whatever the truth may be, the bonde alien's hands shook as she placed a finger against 'Babs's' throat, looking for a pulse, with deliberate caution. As though she was worried the other girl would break. Harry wondered if her concerns were warranted, and she was strong as well as fast.

Harry took the fact that the blonde's shoulders fell, and a soft sigh reached him, to mean that she had found a pulse. If the unconscious girl had stood against the invading aliens, she was an ally of the alien Harry's mission was centered around. Therefore, it was fortunate that the electricity had not killed her.

The first human observer who arrived was wearing a blue uniform, with a star-shaped badge on the chest. The man had, attached to his belt, a handgun, aerosol can, handcuffs, and a baton. Harry quickly decided that the man was an officer of the law, and decided he disliked the fact that the man's hand was on his gun's grip in the same thought. Harry had just killed a half-dozen aliens, and he guessed that the officer was trying to decide on the lawfulness, or illegality, of that. The police-man was trying to decide if it classed as murder if the victim- victims were neither human or friendly.

Harry did not want to stay until he made a decision. An ordinary man with a gun was no more of a threat than a hornet but, that being said, hornet stings… stung; Harry wouldn't seek them out if it could be avoided.

With a thought, the helmet jumped back into his hand. Harry felt the familiar tug, and the alleyway appeared around him.

Kara Zor-El, more often known either as Kara Kent, by those who knew her secret identity, or Supergirl by the general public, brushed a hair away from Barbara's closed eye. Kara was not known for her patience, but was resisting the temptation to shake Batgirl awake. Kara was wondering, at the moment, whether she should take Barbara back to Gotham. Batman wouldn't be there, but Alfred would know what to do.

As the Kryptonian girl decided that that was the right thing to do, she caught a strange, swirling blur of motion in the corner of her eye, and Kara's head snapped up along with her fists. She didn't know what that was, and Supergirl's instincts were frayed enough that she assumed it was an enemy.

A police officer was standing next to her, his gun partially drawn.

Kara's eyes scanned the area with the speed that came with her physiology, and she couldn't find anything to explain it.

But where was the magician?

She turned on the spot, twisting her head around to see if he was behind her now. He wasn't, and Kara frowned. She had assumed the long-haired man would have stuck around to introduce himself, at the very least. Kara thought it must have been a new hero coming to her aid. Surely he would have wanted to have a conversation with her. She was an expert in heroics, if she did say so herself, and could have given the hairy guy plenty of advice.

Maybe he didn't think about that. Most heroes wouldn't consider the way that the person they'd saved could help them out, and she knew of more than a handful that avoided sticking around after it was over like they would get cooties from reporters. Batman was the example that sprung to mind, and Babs, since she'd learned from him. And this newbie could easily be taking cues from Gotham's Dark Knight; Batman was almost as popular as Kara's cousin.

Or maybe he wasn't a hero. Kara looked at the dead aliens with a frown. Batman and her cousin would have choice words about the man's methods, she knew. Kara didn't understand why he had done it. He had knocked most of them out, so what had been the point in killing others? How could he hope to be a hero if he went around killing them? Especially when it was so unnecessary.

Scooping Barbara into her arms, one below her knees and the other under her shoulders, Kara's mind stayed on the subject. She thought it over while they were flying, and wondered, when they touched down, whether she should have looked for the emerald-eyed man while she was in Smallville. She was sure that, if she'd tried, she could have heard where he was… but she was right to have taken care of Babs first, wasn't she?

Kara glanced at the peaceful, but slightly pained, face of her friend and the answer came easily. Of course she'd done the right thing. Barbara's life was more important than finding a rogue hero.

Alfred was too concerned with taking checking Barbara was unharmed to pay attention to the conflict Kara was having, and when the others returned to the partially-destroyed house it would not be Clark who picked up on her mood, he was too dense to pick up on her emotions, nor would it be Batman; even without his injuries, the cowled man would not have cared. Wonder Woman would be the only member of the League to give her a shoulder to lean on. The Amazonian sat next to Kara, and gave the girl a half hug, figuring that she was upset about her friend's condition, and gave a comforting reassurance that Barbara would be fine.

At the same time, Harry Potter was past his own emotional problems, and instead sat before a computer gathering all the information he could find on the Super-powered peoples of this world. It was a concerning development, and he was trying to connect the dots enough to tell him his purpose.

So far, his progress was slow.