4 Memories Best Forgotten

Apparently, I could, indeed, make items.

Currently, I sat on the computer chair in my apartment. Beside me, my computer was showing an image of a wand from the Harry Potter movies. Specifically Harry's wand.

In my lap was the same wand, but glowing with the tale-tell signs of magic.

" That wasn't nearly as difficult, nor as expensive as I assumed it would be," I said while scratching my head in confusion.

When creating a wand in the tabletop even the most basic of wands cost upwards of 750 gold. I was expecting to have to pay that much in material costs alone, but it didn't work out that way.

I literally just picked up a stick on my way home, used {Wood Shape} to reform it into Harry's wand, briefly chanted some words in a runic language, and then willed my magic into the Wand.

All of it took less than ten minutes. 

' Of course, it could also be the fact that I only enchanted the wand with a cantrip.' I thought as I picked up the wand and aimed it at a pencil on the floor.

With a flick of the wrist, the wand glowed red and cast {Prestidigitation} on the pencil causing it to gently float in the air and turn the color red.

"It seems some things never change," I said with an amused snort.

After putting my wand on the computer desk, I stood up and walked over to my bed before face diving into one of my pillows strewn across it.

" What the hell am I supposed to do with this!?" I said with my voice tinged with anxiety and the beginnings of panic.

All day I've been avoiding the question of what I'm going to do now that I had all this power. A question I've put to the back of my mind while I busied myself with other things, like work or creating a magic wand.

But now that I'm in the confines of my home the daunting nature of the question was fully realized.

' Okay, okay deep breaths Alex. Stop panicking. Your gonna b- Oh god what if someone finds out? What if, what if I accidentally hurt someone (that doesn't deserve it)? What if my magic negatively affects my meds? I don't know if I can deal with that. Or if I-'

With a deep breath, a sudden wave of calm washed over me as I reasserted my will over my emotions. 

' I can worry about all that later. But right now I need to compartmentalize my thoughts.' I said mentally to myself.

A few minutes later my raging thoughts calmed enough for me to think straight.

" I need a goal. Something I want to obtain or do. But that's a lot harder said than done. So what do I want?" I asked myself.

'Become a hero' was the obvious answer to most. With my powers, I could be a very effective hero with my numerous spells that straight up disabled others from participating in combat. 

However, that didn't fit me. 

In my mind villains, true villains like the Joker deserved to be put down. Whether that meant by electric chair or a {Magic Missile} to the face didn't matter.

That mindset, combined with my own issues, heavily clashed with those like the Justice League. 

'I wouldn't last very long before being pushed to the edge and killing some villain that pushed my buttons.'  I thought wearily. 

I knew myself well enough to know that the moment the word 'rapist', 'pedophile', or 'human trafficking' came up there'd be one less piece of shit in the world. 

'That kind of stuff just hits too close to home.' I thought while holding back a wince as a memory surged to the forefront of my mind.

...

The memory was of a much younger Alex chained to a marble wall while riddled with bruises, lacerations, and "Love marks". His whole body was in pain and every movement only made it worse. However, it was his lower body that was truly wracked with agony.

 Around him, men and women wearing expensive clothing and jewelry observed him with sadistic amusement. They relished in seeing a child like Alex, who was previously pure in both mind and body, broken. Any chance at a normal childhood and possibly adult life was sullied by their actions.

  Meanwhile, Alex only kept his gaze to the ground, his eyes emotionless and distant, even as a large man wearing an owl mask began to unbuckle his belt.

.....

I was five when I was kidnapped. For seven years I was used as a 'stress medium' or  'plaything' for the Court of Owls. Day in and day out I was violated mentally and physically. Only Given the barest amount of food or water to survive.

I had tried to kill myself on four separate occasions but I was stopped by my "handler". For every failed attempt I was told that 'toys' like myself don't break themselves.

Why I was kept alive for so long is something I question even now.

Then when I was twelve I managed to escape in the chaos of a battle between the Court and Batman.

When I found my way back home, my parents were at first overjoyed to see their son return. But that changed as the long-lasting mental effects of my captivity showed themselves.

My biological parents left me to curb when they realized just how badly I had been broken by my experiences. They had said that I'd be "better" with parents that could better handle my issues.

I knew the truth, however. That they were just scared that I end up like one of the various serial killers roaming around Gotham. That when the time came people would point fingers at them for not trying enough, for being horrible parents, for failing their child.

So instead they handed me off to a family friend, Emily Harper, the woman I call mom.

A chuckle left my mouth as I came to a realization.

'It's been a while since I've thought about the Court, but for once, I'm thankful. You've given me a goal with my new powers.'

My hands glowed with pure magical might as I clenched my pillow.

' The Court of Owls will fall. Even if I have to bring down Gotham with it.'