The Last Guardian (Ch. 3)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

The Last Guardian

Chapter 3

Harry woke up when a noisy garbage truck passed down Main Street. He was still sitting with his back against the brick wall. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but it must have happened right after the adrenaline crash. It was early morning. Thin sunlight lit the alley, turning puddles of last night’s rain into little shimmering spots on the cracked concrete.

He expected to feel like absolute shit. Instead, he felt fine. Better than fine, actually. He rolled his shoulders. There was no ache, no stiffness, nothing except an itchy spot where a beetle was crawling up his ankle. He gently picked up the small bug and set it aside safely. He looked down at himself. His t-shirt and jeans were soaked and muddy. His skin was sticky and smelled like old beer and cigarette smoke from the bowling alley’s nearby dumpster. He snorted in amusement. He had just saved many lives last night, and here he was, living like a hobo. 

Harry pushed himself to his feet and checked his pockets before remembering that he had nothing. They were empty, of course. There was no wand, no money, nothing. In another life, this would be a major problem. In this one, it was just a mild inconvenience. He considered conjuring up a fresh set of clothes, but the last time he tried, he’d nearly pantsed himself. He needed something less dramatic.

“Let’s see,” he muttered. He closed his eyes and focused. He pictured his clothes dry, clean, and crisp as new. The ring of green energy shimmered just beneath his skin. With a gentle push, he felt the magic slide down his arms and legs. When he opened his eyes, he saw that his shirt was spotless, his jeans were stiff with starch, and even his shoes looked like they’d never been worn. The dirt on his hands vanished. The foul scent of the alley vanished, and even his constant unruly and messy hair was clean and soft.

He did a quick once-over of his clothes and overall health. Everything felt perfect. “Not bad,” Harry said. He glanced up and down the alley. There was no one to be found, just the slow trickle of water from a busted drainpipe and the distant hum of a leaf blower somewhere on Main Street.

His stomach growled loudly, and he felt the uncomfortable pull in the stomach that people get when their bellies are completely empty. He realized he hadn’t eaten since … he didn’t even know when. It must have been sometime at Hogwarts. He sighed. For all the cosmic power in his veins, he was still broke and hungry. He walked to the edge of the alley and peeked out. The diner was across the street, its window painted with the words “ALL DAY BREAKFAST.” The neon sign flickered in the weak morning light. He could smell the bacon grease from here, and his mouth began to water. He looked both ways, then slipped down the sidewalk. He moved with the loose, relaxed pace of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. 

He stopped outside the diner. Inside, two old men in flannel shirts were arguing over a newspaper. A woman in a pink apron topped off their coffee. Harry’s stomach did another flip from hunger. He needed money. He stood for a while, just watching the traffic roll by. There was a flash of movement and a glint in the gutter. He reached out and called it to him. A coin, crusted with dirt, zipped across the road and landed in his palm. It was a quarter. Harry laughed and flipped it into the air. It wasn’t enough for breakfast, but it was a start.

He closed his fist around the coin. The power inside him shifted, almost eager. He pictured the quarter multiplying. His power flared, and when he opened his palm, four quarters were now present. He laughed again. “Brilliant,” he said with a smile. He focused harder, picturing paper money instead. It was harder. He could feel the resistance, like a lock not quite wanting to turn. He bent his will around it. Finally, a battered dollar bill appeared between his fingers, damp and reeking faintly of mildew. Harry moved back into the alley and out of sight. He focused again and waited. Eventually, an equally dirty five-dollar bill landed in his hand. Harry looked around to make sure he wasn’t being watched and used his powers to clean both bills. Once he was done, they looked brand new. Harry then concentrated and multiplied both bills. He continued this until he had two hundred dollars’ worth of fives and a small stack of ones. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. He didn’t even need to rob a bank. He stashed the coins in his pockets and folded the bills tight, then strode into the diner like he belonged.

The warmth hit him first. It smelled like coffee, slightly burnt toast, and maple syrup. He slid into a booth and scanned the menu. Everything looked good, especially since he was starving. The waitress arrived and looked him over. “You new in town?” she asked.

Harry gave her a smile. “I was passing through, but I think I’ll stay a while.”

She nodded, taking this at face value. “What’ll it be?”

“Orange juice,” Harry said. “And the Hungry Man Special … Eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, pancakes, and toast.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You want the works?”

Harry tossed her a boyish smile. “I’m starving.”

She scribbled the order. “Be right back, hun.”

He leaned back, feeling the bench squeak under his weight. It occurred to him that he might have overdone it with the duplication thing. He reached into his jeans, pulled out the bills, and held them up. Each was a perfect copy, down to the imperfections. Then he noticed something else. The serial numbers were the same on all the ones and on all the fives. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be caught out in two seconds flat.

He set the bills out on the table and focused, imagining them unique. The numbers blurred and shifted, one by one, each settling into its own random sequence. Harry swept the bills back into his pocket just as the food arrived. It was even better than he imagined … eggs hot and fluffy, bacon crisp, and pancakes the size of his head. He inhaled half of it before he even touched his juice. The waitress came by twice to refill his cup. “You got somewhere to stay?” she asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile. “Just visiting,” he said. “I’ll find a place.”

She smiled. “Well, if you need anything, you let us know.” She meant it, too. People here were that way.

Harry finished every last crumb. He paid in cash and then put some extra on the table when he remembered that they tipped in the US. He wandered out into the sunlit street and just walked. The feeling of being full was great, but not as good as the feeling of being in control for the first time in his life. Harry had gone from broke to flush, from dirty to clean, from hungry to stuffed, all in less than an hour. He wondered what else he could do. It was then that he realized he could do anything. Finally, he was free.

The Last Guardian

Harry walked down Main Street, just checking out what this small town had to offer. He passed the bank, the barbershop, and a furniture store with a dusty window. Smallville was fully awake now. People spilled from the diner, arms crossed against the crisp morning. Old men sat on benches, sipping coffee and watching everything with sharp, wrinkled eyes.

He listened to what the townspeople were saying. Conversation bloomed on every sidewalk. Words like “miracle,” “plane,” and “the hand of God” traveled in low, urgent tones. A woman in a green sweater said, “My cousin’s best friend was on that plane.” A boy on a bicycle told his friend, “The wings were all messed up, but then … BOOM … they fixed themselves.” The grocery clerk added, “I heard someone saw a green ghost, right over the field.”

Harry smiled at that. He slowed to watch a large, green tractor slowly roll through town. He heard a middle-aged woman say, “I don’t know if it was a miracle or not, but I’m going to church this Sunday regardless.” No one noticed him. No one recognized him. Yet everywhere he walked, the story followed, growing stranger with each telling. Harry tucked his hands in his pockets and walked on, smiling to himself.

He eventually left the busy part of town as he continued his walk through Smallville. As he passed the town center’s edge, the shops fell away and fields took over. Corn grew in neat lines that stretched to the horizon. The air changed, too. It now carried the scent of manure and last night’s rain. Harry followed a rutted gravel lane that paralleled an old railway. With every step, his mind picked over the same problem. What was he supposed to do now? He could keep saving people, sure, but he didn’t want to live like a ghoul, always waiting for the next disaster. Harry sighed, wishing he had somewhere to go, something definite to do. He almost missed the field to his left. It was fenced off, and the gate was falling off its hinges and held closed by a twisted loop of rusty wire. Beyond the fence, the grass was wild and overgrown. Most of the field was covered in waist-high weeds, but at the far edge, something caught Harry’s eye.

It was a tractor … or what was left of one. It was an old, boxy type that was probably new in the early 60s. The once-vibrant red paint was now faded to an ugly pink. The tires were sunken deep into the mud, the steering wheel looked to have been chewed up by rats, and the seat cushion was falling apart. It had clearly been dead for years. Vines crawled up the side and over the big steel wheels, as if trying to drag it into the earth. Even from a distance, Harry could see the animal tracks in the mud beneath it.

He hopped the fence with a quick pulse of his power and walked across the uneven ground. Each step crunched through dry stems, crackled across sticks, and crushed discarded seed pods. When he got to the tractor, he brushed a hand along the rusted edge of the fender. His touch left a streak in the grime.

Harry circled the tractor, examining the collapsed seat, the broken instrument panel, and the gnarled steering wheel. He ran his fingers along the hood, peeling back a strip of paint. The engine block was barely visible under the layer of filth, and something inside it smelled old and spoiled. He looked at the treads, which were flat, brittle, and pretty much eroded by time.

Harry squatted down next to the big rear wheel. He thought of the plane last night and of all the pieces floating in the air and the green light stitching them together. That was different. There had been lives at stake … a reason to act. This was just a piece of old machinery, slowly eroding. Still, the urge to fix it was strong.

He set his palm flat on the tire and pictured it whole. Not just the rubber, but the steel cords inside, the patterns of the treads, even the tiny bolts that held it to the axle. The power inside him thrummed, eager to help. He concentrated, willing the tractor to fix itself … to be new again. 

The change started slowly. At first, the grime just slid away, peeling off in greasy, dark sheets. The steering wheel puffed back to its original shape, and the torn seat seemed to heal, stitching its foam and vinyl together like a closing wound. The rust vanished, and the paint smoothed out and brightened. The tires filled out, stretching and reshaping until they looked like they had just left the factory.

Harry stood up and stepped back. The tractor looked brand new. Even the decal reading, “Massey Ferguson” looked shiny and new. He climbed up and settled into the seat. The key was still in the ignition. He turned it. The engine caught instantly, roaring to life with a deep, healthy purr. The vibration rattled up through his feet and into his spine. Harry laughed out a quick, sharp bark that surprised even him.

He let the tractor idle and watched the field in front of him. The weeds looked smaller, less threatening, as if they were waiting for someone to take charge and cut them down. Unfortunately, Harry had no idea how to actually use a tractor. He killed the engine and hopped down. He stood with his hands on his hips, grinning like an idiot at the gleaming machine. This was something he could definitely do to earn some money. He could find old, broken items for cheap or even for free and turn them into something useful. He could charge very low prices and still make more than enough money to keep himself comfortable. It would even help out the local community. 

Harry remained there for a little while and then turned back toward the town, already thinking of what else he could fix. He walked away from the fence, not even bothering to jump it this time. He just ripped off the old, twisted wire and let himself through. By the time he got to the edge of the gravel lane, he’d made up his mind. He was going to do it. Maybe that was what it meant to be a hero in a place like this … not saving the world every day, but just making things a little easier for his neighbors.

The sun had climbed higher now, painting the fields with a green so bright it hurt to look at. Harry took one last glance at the tractor, then shoved his hands in his pockets and started the walk back to town, whistling as he went.

The Last Guardian

The Talon was dark except for the single light on inside. The town was mostly empty, and only a few other shops had their lights on as well. Some things never changed, she thought. Under the overhanging marquee, Lana Lang fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve and glanced at her reflection in the glass.

It was almost nine. He’d said he’d be here. She’d showered, put on makeup, changed her clothes three times, and finally given up, settling for jeans, a powder blue t-shirt, and a cardigan that her aunt had gifted her.

The memory of last night’s crash kept playing in her head. She’d tried to do normal things all day, but the memory always came back … the shriek of wind, the flash of green, and the way the guy’s arms had wrapped around her and kept her from falling. In the daylight hours, it seemed impossible. She wondered if she’d made the whole thing up.

A car passed by slowly, stereo rumbling. She blinked, shifted her weight, and pressed closer to the door. The wind blew an old flyer past her, and she watched it get caught against the curb. Last night had been a blur. She’d been checked out and shuffled from one pair of rubber gloves to the next. First the paramedics, then the police, and then the NTSB. She’d said the words “I don’t remember” so many times that they’d stopped believing her. She didn’t mention the boy who’d caught her, or the green light, or the feeling of complete safety when the green light encapsulated her body. She kept those to herself. It was all she had left that belonged to her.

She’d spoken with her friends, and of course, they asked her about it. Lana kept a tight lip, and they just assumed that she was too traumatized to talk about it. It was an assumption that she was happy to allow. Thankfully, Lex was quick to let it go and even let her live in the apartment above the Talon. She didn’t even remember getting to the Talon. Someone must have driven her. The next thing she remembered was waking up on the couch upstairs, clutching a throw pillow and shivering from the horrible dreams.

A dark shape crossed the street. For a second, she thought it was a trick of the light. Many weird things had happened in Smallville after all. Then he stepped under the streetlamp, and she recognized the cut of his jaw, the wild black hair, and the eyes that seemed to radiate green light. He wore a t-shirt that clung to his chest, and jeans that emphasized his long, powerful legs. She watched him approach, heart thumping, and for one mad second, she considered running away. He stopped a few feet away from her. His eyes met hers, and he gave her a small, careful smile.

“Hi,” he said. His voice made her heart thunder. Lana’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She tried to remember the sentence she’d practiced in her head. It was gone.

“You’re early,” she said, and immediately wanted to vanish. What a stupid thing to say, she chastised herself. 

He looked over his shoulder at one of those rectangular digital clock displays in the window of Johnson’s Hardware. “Am I? It’s nine oh-one,” he said with a boyish smile. 

The smile was contagious. Lana tried not to grin but failed. “I guess I’m early, too,” she lamely joked and laughed. She then looked at the ground. A silence bloomed between them. She glanced up and realized he was waiting, patient and kind, like he had all the time in the world for her to get her bearings.

She had to ask. “Are you… him?” she whispered.

He nodded once. “I am.”

She looked at his hands, then at his face, then back at his hands. He caught the gesture and held up his right hand. For the briefest flash, green light sparkled along the palm. It was gone before she could blink. A thousand questions rushed into her head. None made it to her lips. She settled for, “Is this your first time in Smallville?”

He looked up at the sign above her head, and for a second, his face twisted like he was remembering a joke. “Yeah,” he said. “I kind of … dropped in a couple of days ago.”

Lana smiled softly. The tension that had been aching in her neck and shoulders for hours let go all at once. “Well, welcome to Smallville. Sorry you had to start with … that.”

He shrugged. “It certainly wasn’t boring. Besides, I like to help people.”

She wanted to say something clever, something Chloe would say, but the words just tangled up in her head.

“Do you want to come in?” she finally asked.

He gave her a slow, gentle nod, then followed her to the door. His footsteps were so quiet that she had to check over her shoulder to make sure he was still there. She unlocked the front door and pushed inside. The Talon was silent, the tables and chairs turned upside-down, and the stale air thick with the memory of coffee and patries.

She led him through the shop and up the stairs. The apartment upstairs was small and clean. There wasn’t much in there since she didn’t have time to stock up on supplies. The only sound was the hum of the fridge and Lana’s own nervous breaths. She stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do with her hands. The boy stopped at the top of the stairs, leaned against the wall, and waited.

“I never got your name,” Lana suddenly realized. 

He smiled. Lana had to admit that he was very handsome. She particularly liked the way his full lips stretched playfully across his chiseled jaw. “Harry.”

“Harry,” she repeated, letting it settle into her mind. “I’m Lana.” He nodded like he’d already known, but didn’t want to show off.

She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. “Thank you,” she said. She truly meant it. 

He shook his head. “There’s no need to thank me, but you’re welcome anyway.” There was another silence, but this one felt softer. Strangely enough, it didn’t bother her at all. 

She took a step closer. “How did you do it?” she asked.

He looked down, then back at her. “I don’t really know. I’ve always been … strange, I guess.”

She nodded, like that explained everything. This wasn’t exactly a shock to her, considering the strange things that happened here. He cleared his throat. “Can I… is it okay if I sit down?”

She smiled and waved at the couch. “Yeah. Please.”

He dropped onto the couch with a sigh, then watched her with the same careful patience. She stayed standing, rocking a little on her heels. Lana tried to say something else, but her brain and mouth weren’t seeing eye to eye at the moment. In her head, she was still falling, still hearing the plane ripping apart and feeling the impossible cold of high altitude. She looked at Harry and saw the green flicker behind his eyes, and it calmed her. She sat beside him, close but not touching. He didn’t move. Lana took a deep breath and gathered her courage. 

“Tell me everything, please,” she asked. When he hesitated, she reached out and placed her hand over his and looked him in the eyes. “Please …” she practically begged. Lana had been in the same position with Clark, and he never confided in her. It was very hurtful, and she didn’t know if she could take it again. 

Lana could see him thinking it over while she held her breath. Finally, a small smile stretched across his handsome face, and he nodded. “Can I try something?” he asked, and Lana immediately gave her consent. She didn’t even care what he was going to try. At this point, she was desperate for answers. Harry stared into her eyes, and his emerald green irises suddenly began to glow brightly. 

The brightness in Harry’s eyes was not a trick of the light, she quickly decided. Lana felt it settle across her retinas, crawling through her eyesockets and into her mind. Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow, but the muscles in her throat barely worked. The world around her blurred. She reached for his wrist, and then …

Everything became green. It wasn’t the color, but the feeling. It was vibrant, intense, and alive. It caressed the seams of her skull and then peeled her mind, layer by layer. At first, she felt herself falling. The floor under her shoes dropped away, and the couch, the Talon, all of Smallville, vanished in a flash of bright green energy. Her body no longer existed. It was left somewhere far behind.

The first thing she saw was a castle. It sat majestically next to a massive lake. It was the dead of night, and every window was luminated with golden light. The castle shimmered as if underwater, but when she blinked, she was inside it. Hundreds of candles hovered in the air while dozens of kids sat at four long tables. She recognized Harry, except not quite. His hair was shorter, his chin was less defined, and his body was all elbows and knees. He gripped a stick … a wand … and pointed it at a cruel blond boy in black and green robes.

There were classrooms, corridors, and shifting stairs that moved beneath one's feet. There were endless days of running from one disaster to the next. She saw a teacher with a disgusting face sticking out of the back of his head. His hands were melting away as he tried to grab Harry. She saw a massive snake too big to be real. She saw Harry shove a sword down its throat. She saw flying demons in black robes and bony, scabby hands. She saw a graveyard, and then a strange circular room with many doors. It kept going on and on. Faces blurred past her mind. She saw a girl with wild brown hair, a redheaded boy with a happy smile, and many more. There were secrets behind every door, all of them reaching for Harry, all of them wanting something from him. Sometimes they wanted his blood. Sometimes they just wanted him to smile.

She saw his life as a series of events … each year, a new enemy, each day a new battle. The faces changed, but the weight of responsibility never did. It pressed in on him, even when he was just sitting by a lake or watching the snow fall. It never left, not for a second. Time began to speed up, then slow down, then fracture into a hundred fragments.

The castle burned. She felt the heat on her face. Ash drifted down like snow. People ran and screamed, some with wands out, some without. The night sky was filled with arcs of green and red. Somewhere in the middle of it, she found Harry again. He was taller now and bleeding from the scalp, one arm dangling at his side. His eyes were ferocious. They locked onto another figure … a man with eyes full of hatred and a skull-pale face. Spells then ripped everything apart. Chunks of stone fell from the ceiling. The fight was a blur, a mess of pain and fear and violence so intense that Lana wanted to look away. She couldn’t, though.

She saw the final spell, a flash of green that buckled the snake-like man’s knees. He sputtered one last time and dropped face down on the stone floor. She felt Harry’s chest deflate in relief. She saw him stand over the body, shaking with exhaustion, unable to move. Then the tower shook, and the floor beneath his feet vanished. Harry fell through the darkness, weightless and twisting. The memories stuttered and stopped. Lana felt her own breath catch. She tried to reach for him, but she had no hands in this place. Then everything was dark, and she was somewhere else.

It was a field with rows and rows of corn. He was now in Kansas. Harry lay sprawled in the mud. He was naked and alone. She saw him recover faster than anyone had a right to. She followed him as he tried his new powers. He learned them fast. Harry would make a mistake and pick himself up when he crashed. It was like watching a child grow up in a matter of minutes. Lana experienced every sensation … the rush of the wind, the taste of dirt, the excitement as he discovered new ways to use his powers.

The next vision was of a jet. For a crazy moment, Lana felt herself split as if living the memory from both inside Harry and inside her own skin. There were screams. The plane broke apart. She saw her own face reflected in the warped glass of the window, her eyes wide, mouth open, and terrified. She felt her own panic, but also Harry’s single-minded focus as he ripped through the sky and closed the distance between them.

She watched as he caught her. The memory of his arms was warm and comforting. It was like a blanket wrapping her whole body. She felt the heat of the fire and the crack of the wind. Then she was back on the ground, safe and sound. Her mind began to spin as time reeled backward, then forward, then folded in on itself.

Lana gasped. She was back in her own body, but her head was still spinning. She looked at Harry. The light in his eyes had faded, but the feeling remained. It was warm like the summer sun. Her breath was ragged. Every cell in her body hummed with the aftershock of what she’d seen. She stared at Harry. He was subtly checking her over to make sure she was okay. There was a softness in his eyes now, something raw and honest.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned for her well-being. Lana pressed a hand to her chest. She didn’t trust her voice. After a moment, she nodded.

“That was …,” she said, and stopped. She couldn’t finish the thought.

Harry nodded, as if he’d expected that. “Intense,” he finished her sentence. Lana nodded, not knowing what else to say. 

Lana looked away, blinking away tears that she didn’t even know had fallen. She wiped them with the back of her hand, then let her head fall to Harry’s shoulder. The feeling of their connection was still there. It almost felt like their minds were still touching. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all. It actually felt quite pleasant.

She laughed softly into his shirt. “So, I guess you’re really not from around here, are you?”

Harry laughed too, and she felt it vibrate through his chest into her own. “No, not even a little bit.”

Lana sat up and wiped away the last of her tears. They spent the next few hours just talking and getting to know one another. Harry thought it was a really nice way to start a new friendship.