The Magical Bat Year III Chapter 1: Prologue, Third Year, a batman fanfic

The Magical Bat III.

#include stdDisclaimer.h: Batman, Catwoman, Alfred, Babs, Dick, Lucius Fox, and the others, are DC Comic's toys. Hogwarts, Albus, Minerva, the Weasleys and the others in the Potterverse belong to the fabulous JK Rowling. I'm just playing with them, and they'll be put back on the shelf later. The Morton family is used with the permission of GITM. Everyone else, they're mine. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead is purely coincidental.

This is a sequel to my stories: The Bat & the Cat, redux (0), The Magical Bat (1), Magical Bat: road trip (1.5), Magical Bat II (2), and Magical Bat: Training Trip (2.5).

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1 – Prologue, Third Year
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Monday, August 14, 2000:
Gotham City, Batcave: 02:43
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"The Death Protocols," Selina said hollowly, looking at her family. "Dick, you'll have to take over patrols. Doc, we'll have to create some plausible scenario for ... for Bruce's death; Mattie, you have a meeting in London in a few hours."

"You think I want to go to a damned meeting?"

"You have to maintain cover!" her mother snapped, still in her dirty, torn Batgirl uniform. With a savage yank, she pulled her cowl off, "You think I'm in any mood to go to a damned breakfast with airhead society women? I'll go; I'll make polite chit-chat to pry money out of them while I want to strangle each one! I just lost my husband!"

"There is one other thing to consider," Doc said. "The boy, Tomas, is now not only homeless but an orphan." Selina glared at him, "In addition, he had this on him. I removed it; it would only raise questions with Emergency Services." He passed a small envelope to Selina.

Mr. Tomas Ramirez
Emergency room, Bed #3
Gotham General Hospital
Gotham City

"A Hogwarts letter?" Selina asked.

"He has to go," Mattie said. "A wizard in a muggle orphanage created Voldemort. He has to go, and we have to adopt him."

"You're sure?"

"That's what Professor Dumbledore and Professor Harry said," Mattie replied.

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Monday, August 14, 2000:
Earth, London: 08:13 (GMT)
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Dressed in a conservative muggle skirted suit and carrying a briefcase, Mattie joined the throng of commuters leaving Charing Cross station. She walked the few blocks to the Cauldron, Tom looking up and saying, "G'morning, Miss Wayne."

"Good morning, Tom. Is anyone else here?"

"Miss Johnson arrived a moment ago; we're set for you in #3." He nodded, "Down that hall, second on the right."

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"Morning, Amy," Mattie said, putting her briefcase down as she pulled out her chair. "Rough night last night?"

"Better than it has been, at least I could sleep through it," she yawned, eyeing her boss. "You don't look the best either." She pushed the carafe of coffee toward Mattie.

"A very long flight and a family emergency at home," Mattie said, standing again as the player representatives came in, followed by Sheila and Griplink. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we get started?"

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"A fifty galleon bonus per each goal scored, Ms. Peters? I think that's a bit rich," Mattie said, "Considering you're not asking for similar bonuses for the other three positions..."

"The chasers do most of the scoring," Peters argued back. "If we do our jobs right, the keepers simply float there."

"Ah, but have you been doing your jobs right?" Amy asked. "Wheeler and House have the lowest scoring percentage in the league. As it is, you score, on average, only twelve goals a game."

"I would be more inclined to agree to this if the scoring was up," Mattie said. "Perhaps this would work: the chasers qualify for a bonus, per game, after we score our fifteenth goal, and the bonus amount is five galleons."

"Forty."

"Ten."

"Thirty."

"Twenty."

Griplink gave a slight nod, and Mattie said, "Deal, but Wheeler and House are on probation. Moving on to those rather bored keepers, I notice that Mr. Valdez blocking percentage has slipped recently..."

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"Before we move on to the new talent, why don't we take a quick break?" Ms. Peters suggested.

Mattie frowned as the woman bit her lip, trying not to squirm. "I think we could use a break," she agreed. "Why don't we get a cuppa and resume in fifteen minutes or so?"

Peters shot a glance at the teapot, then nodded and quickly strolled out. Mattie waited a minute; then followed her, turning for the loo.

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Mattie speed-dialed 1 and asked Babs, "How are things?"

"Weird. I can't believe he's gone."

"Do we have a plan yet?"

"Yeah, the golf shed took a lightning hit during the thunderstorm last night; Bruce was knocked unconscious and died from the smoke while Selina was out. It matches the actual cause of death. As far as Mrs. Ramirez and Tomas, Batman had spare rebreathers, but as an adult, hers ran out first. We used Selina's for that. By the way, we've filed paperwork to adopt Tomas."

"All right, I'll set things up for him over here, and fly him over when the medics release him. Gotta go, Albus wants a word with me." Mattie thumbed the kill switch on her phone, smiling at her former Headmaster.

"Is there a problem, Miss Wayne?" he asked, casting a privacy spell. "You are broadcasting rage and grief with considerable power, and it is giving me a headache."

Mattie considered him, closing her mental shields tightly. He sighed in relief; then raised an eyebrow. "My father died last night, Headmaster," she admitted, adding, "We couldn't save him."

"Ah. My sympathies. Please let me know when the funeral is, he was a most remarkable man."

"He was able to save a life, Headmaster. I think he preferred to go that way, especially since that boy had a Hogwarts letter." Mattie was keeping tight control. "If you'll excuse me, I need a word with Mr. Griplink about him. We're adopting Tomas, you see."

"Please let me know if there is anything I can do, Miss Wayne," Albus insisted as he banished the privacy spell.

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"Regarding Mr. Slater," Peters said, "He just barely beat out Ms. Michaels in testing, however, there's a question." She swallowed, "He's a werewolf."

Mattie kicked Amy under the table, "His medical condition affects his play?"

"No, no!" Peters looked nervous, "It's just that, well, there's some bad publicity, and a bit of worry about being an unfair advantage..."

"Bad publicity is my problem, not yours, Ms. Peters, and I don't think a 'wolf is any stronger than a well-muscled normal person. Aside from his medical condition, what would you recommend for Mr. Slater and Ms. Michaels?"

"Retainer for both of them until they finish school," Ms. Feller, the player's solicitor said. "Then invite them back for a second round of tryouts. There's another bloke at Hogwarts, the Gryff keeper, which shows promise. I'd keep an eye on him."

"I have been," Mattie said, to general chuckles. "Please send a letter of retainer to both Mr. Slater and Ms. Michaels, and any questions regarding medical conditions should be addressed to Healer Sloan, with an information copy to me. Moving on..."

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"Mr. Griplink, a word?" Mattie said as the meeting broke up, waving Aunt Sheila over.

"What is it, Miss Wayne?" he asked, casting a privacy spell of his own.

"My father... my father died last night," she said, before breaking down in tears, crying on his shoulder as Sheila joined her.

"Oh, my," he said. "Oh, my dear," he said as he tried to comfort them. "Please, let me know when the service is. I'm certain Mr. Mackrack will also wish to attend." Mattie snuffled something, and he asked awkwardly, "How... how did he?"

"Saving a life," she said, "A homeless boy named Tomas, Tomas Ramirez, we'll be adopting him. He got a Hogwarts letter, it was in his pocket."

"We shall do everything possible for Mr. Ramirez, and for you, of course." Sheila whispered something Mattie couldn't hear, Griplink saying, "Of course, Ms. Hawking, I shall personally handle it. Mr. Ramirez is kin, after all."

------------------------

The door to muggle London tinkled, and a young redheaded woman came through, followed by about twenty parents and their children. Tom stood up, "Ah, Mrs. Potter! Are these the new students?"

"Brings back memories," Mattie confided to Albus at the bar, whose eyes twinkled. "I've taken up enough of your time, professor. Might I use your floo?"

"Were you thinking of visiting Miss Tonks?" he inquired. "I understand she'll be popping in for her school supplies. If you like, I'll inform her you've returned when she appears."

"I would appreciate that," she smiled. "I'm going to get my own shopping done after I visit Gringotts; then I need to see Blaise and the Wheeze." Standing, she gave him a quick hug, "Later, professor."

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"Don't you look the proper muggle," and Mattie turned, "Sprink!"

"Mattie!" she squealed, diving into the hug, then holding her at arm's length, "What's wrong, mate? You smell sad, no," she sniffed again, "That's grief." Sprink steered her to a chair at Florean's, asking quietly, "Who?"

"My father," Mattie said, breaking down again. After a while, she dried out, muttering, "I feel like an idiot."

"For grieving for your pa?" Sprink snorted, handing her another hankie. "It's natural to grieve. How...?"

"Saving a life," she replied quietly. "A homeless boy, he had a Hogwarts letter, and we're adopting him."

"There are worse ways to go," Sprink said. "This bloke..."

"Tomas."

"Tomas, well, he's now got two big sisters to keep an eye out, mate." She held Mattie at arm's length, "Let me know when the funeral is."

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Friday, August 18, 2000:
Gotham City, St. Michael's Cathedral: 13:48
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The press briefing by attorney Sheila Hawking had been brief and to the point. "Ladies and gentlemen, in deference to the family's wishes, we ask that you respect the privacy of the attendees. Mr. Wayne will be buried in the family plot at Wayne Manor. Thank you."

This cryptic announcement only fueled the media frenzy. However, their long-range cameras could not focus on the public televisions set up outside the cathedral, and news helicopters and satellite trucks suffered mysterious breakdowns before they arrived at the site. Newscrews with shoulder-carried minicams were forced to retreat by bystanders to the dubious safety of their television trucks, while Gotham police looked away. Only one was allowed in by the family, Shawna Foxx, a morning DJ for WGHO, a local radio station. One blow-dried newsie from a New York station was heard to comment, "This town is insane! I don't get combat pay, I'm outta here."

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The apparition point was in a corner of the side room, with the fireplace being temporarily connected to the Floo network. Harry, Ginny, and Professor Lara Croft welcomed the arriving witches and wizards, made sure they were suitably 'muggled' in appearance, and gave them a brief overview of the service.

Roshawn, Shaundra and their parents had just arrived when two goblins stepped out of the floo. "Allow me, sir," Shaundra said, dusting off the senior of the two, then the other.

"Miss Shaundra Cortez, if I remember correctly," Griplink said, and she blushed as he turned, "Your sister Roshawn, also, and Mr. and Mrs. Cortez. Allow me to present Mr. Mackrack, the chairman of Gringotts."

"Cortez, Cortez," the chairman mused, then brightening, "I do hope you girls are feeling better after that horrible misadventure?"

"Very much so, sir. Thank you for asking," Shaundra said. "May we escort you? I do confess to an ulterior motive."

"We would be very pleased to have such lovely young ladies on our arm," Griplink said, adding, "What, pray tell is your ulterior motive?" He patted Roshawn's hand.

"We've made a few galleons inventing things with the Weasleys, and we were thinking of investing," her sister said. "While we're not on Mattie's scale, we would like a decent return, to save up for retirement, you see."

"Excellent!" Mackrack crowed as they joined the line. He ignored the raised eyebrows. "I can see we're going to have to discuss stock issue with the Weasleys again. They are getting too big for a partnership." The line moved forward, and he seized the pen, signing the guest book 'Mackrack, Chairman, Gringotts Bank', just below a scrawled 'C. Clinton, Washington'. He passed the pen to Shaundra, who signed 'Shaundra Cortez, New York City'. Mackrack patted her hand, "Now then, aside from the Weasleys, we do have several very nice packages for the smaller investor. Possibly some mutual funds..."

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Sprink and her family stepped out of the floo, glancing around at the stained glass. "Most impressive," Bellatrix allowed as Tonks dusted her off. "The muggles certainly do have some impressive architecture."

"They certainly do, Ms. Black," Harry said as he looked her over. "This is only the anteroom we're in at the moment; the church is much more impressive. I believe it's the third largest on the continent. However, they don't use robes, so if you could shrink them, please? Also, a black dress is traditional for funerals."

"Thank you, P'fessor," Sprink said, waving her wand. "What's next?"

"Miss Tonks, I have a note for you from Miss Wayne," Harry said as Lara and Ginny moved to the arrival of several students. He raised his voice, "Outside, you'll be able to see the floral arrangements Hogwarts and others have sent. They are quite impressive. Gentlemen will escort ladies, you will join a line to sign a guest book, then greet the family in a receiving line. As there are several very high ranking persons attending, you will pass through a metal detector. If you have any metal on you larger than a small pin, either transfigure it or leave it here." He motioned to two beefy fellows in sunglasses and dark suits. "Agent Smith from the United States Secret Service and Mr. Clarke of SO14 will answer any questions, but if you have doubts, leave it here."

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"Oh, my, pretty flowers," Sprink said as the line moved slowly forward. "United Steelworkers, the Dockworkers, an' I wonder who the Teamsters are."

"There's Gringotts'," Terry Higgs said. "It's bloody huge, and Hogwarts' looks puny next to it." He grinned, "The florists must be having a banner day."

"True," Ian said, Bellatrix on his arm, "They're doing a funeral up right."

"Bloody hell, that's Mackrack up ahead," Ron hissed, Hermione on his arm. She swatted him, "Language, Ron!"

"Thank you, Hermione," Molly said from behind them. Blaise snickered on Frank's arm, opening her purse to ask, "You all right in there, you two?"

"We're fine, Blaisling," Draco said, the Baron echoing, "Thank you very much, Miss Zabini. We wish to keep a lookout for Mr. Wayne."

"Shall I sign for you two?" she asked, the Baron replying, "Of course." She signed, 'Draco and the Baron, Hogwarts', before passing the pen on.

"What do you have in the bag, ma'am?" a security guard asked. She replied, "The usual kit, and two friendly ghosts."

"Open the bag and put it on the belt, please," he motioned, not blinking an eye at seeing two ghosts. Blaise did so, walking through the scanner, and reclaiming her bag.

"Oh, my!" the Baron said, floating out of the bag and looking about. "If I weren't bound to Hogwarts, I wouldn't mind spending eternity here." Behind Blaise, a muggle gave a small shriek, Draco turning to look at her. Blaise smiled, "Don't mind them, they won't hurt you. They're keeping an eye out for Mr. Wayne." Draco and the Baron vanished, Blaise moving on as the husband fanned his wife.

Blaise did agree with the Baron, the church was absolutely HUGE, and packed full. The tall stained glass windows filled the church with colour, yet more flowers filled the sanctuary. Frank asked, "Where shall we sit?"

"Where there's room, I 'spect," she answered, looking about. The heavy oak casket lay on a marble slab, a beam of sunlight illuminating it, the heady scent of flowers filling the air as organ music played. Frank nudged her, "Over there, there's two next to Sprout and Dumbledore."

------------------------

"Hello, Bruce, and welcome to the afterlife."

Bruce spun, looking around. "Mother? Father? " He glanced down, he wasn't wearing his Batsuit, instead it most closely resembled a martial arts gi. He was barefoot, but that didn't seem to bother him.

Two shapes appeared, "Bruce, I'd like you to meet someone," his father said. "Please come with us." Bruce ran through lists of possible outcomes, but he needed more data. "Always the scientist," his mother chuckled. "Please, Bruce, you're in no danger. We'd like you to meet Peter."

"Saint Peter?"

"I have been called that," a fellow with a brown beard said, chuckling. "Please, have a seat, Bruce, and we'll get the formalities out of the way." He waved a hand; a white couch appeared surrounding a circular basin, about the size of a coffee table. With a wave, a goblet appeared in Peter's hand, others appearing before Bruce and his parents, resting quite firmly on the rippling silvery surface.

"What's this?" Bruce asked.

"The goblet? Whatever you wish, Bruce. As for the table, for want of a better term, call it a scrying table. You've heard it said that our predecessors 'look down upon us from Heaven'." He chuckled, "Well, this is how it's done."

"This is Heaven? I expected something... more."

"Brass bands, angels blowing trumpets, the pearly gates, that kind of thing?" Peter shrugged, "If you want, but it's not really necessary. No, this is the only formality, we review your past life, answer any questions; decide where you're going from here. The review is really the only required bit, everything else you can change your mind on later."

"My girls, I want to see how they're getting on," Bruce declared. Peter simply nodded at the table, adding, "You can hear what they're thinking and saying, if you want." Bruce gazed at them for a few minutes, listening in silence to Selina and Mattie. He looked up at Peter, saying, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bruce." Peter clapped his hands, "On with things! Let's take a look at you, shall we, Bruce?"

------------------------

Seating in the cathedral was first-come, with the family greeting mourners in the vestibule. When Arthur made his way in his new black suit, he murmured to Mattie, "Batman and Batgirl put in an appearance outside. Broad daylight, too."

She raised an eyebrow, "Really? I hope you got a picture."

"Elena did," he replied, motioning to his sister as he moved down to greet Mr. Kent.

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"May we join you?" Josephine Evans asked, the men standing, the youngest son saying in an English accent, "Please do, Ma'am."

"Thank you, young man. I must say, it does a body good to see manners in today's youth." She held out her hand, "Josephine and Charles Evans, and our daughter Mary."

"Charles Spencer, my mother Elizabeth, and my sons William and Harry. Harry attends school in Scotland with Miss Wayne."

Harry leaned over, "I can sympathize with Mattie, I mean Miss Wayne. I lost my mum a few years ago in a car crash in Paris. Horrible time, that was." Mary's eyes grew round as she finally recognized who she was sharing a pew with.

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Roshawn whistled silently, the church was huge, as big as St. Patrick's in New York, and as packed as a Christmas service. Looking about, she could see people she recognized from Hogwarts. Just about every member of Slytherin was there, and a good number of the other three houses. Her sister whispered, "McGonagall is sitting with Snape and Flitwick over there. Dumbledore's the next pew back with Sprout. Is there anyone left in the castle?"

"Maybe the ghosts," she replied, her sister shaking her head. "I saw the Baron and Draco a minute ago. How'd they get here?"

"Dunno, but it would be fun to find out. Hey, Sprink's over there in front of Arthur and his crowd." She tugged on her mom's sleeve, "This way."

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Arthur waited as the cathedral slowly filled. Traffic was an absolute nightmare, the only reason they had been on time was Professors Dumbledore and Potter. They had set up portkeys to the cathedral and Wayne Manor for his family and other out-of-town guests. Even so, extra precautions had been taken for 'special' guests like the elves and the goblins. They sat, surrounded by wizards toward the front.

"Who's that?" Julia asked, nodding toward a very large man who was blubbering into a handkerchief.

"Hagrid, he's half-giant, he's the Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts," he whispered back. He looked about with his 'second sight', and noticed that the closed coffin was filled with sandbags. He wondered about that, fingering his invitation, which had a hand-written note reading, 'Arthur, see me after. MW'

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The Cortez family took the pew in front of Arthur, not recognizing for a moment the Washington politician that sat in front of them. The teenage daughter turned around to glare, but the pol said, "Now, Chelsea..."

Roshawn leaned over to whisper to Sprink, who darted a glance before whispering, "Na, you're having me on, mate."

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The cameras were piped to the crowd outside (much to the frustration of the local TV stations), who could see and hear everything inside clearly. One producer in New York was heard to complain on a side channel, "What's wrong with those idiots in Gotham? Why can't we see the screens?" The local affiliate replied (mysteriously dumped to air), "Everything checks out here, we can see it fine. Who's the idiot who can't focus a monitor?" A talking head was quickly switched in.

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The last of the mourners signed the guest book, passing into the sanctuary. Lois told Selina and Mattie quietly, "Act naturally, if you feel like crying, do so. It's expected, and Mattie, Professor Dumbledore asked me to remind you about your shields."

"My Occlumency shields, I was broadcasting grief when I was in London," she said. "Thanks for reminding me, they'd slipped." She smiled wryly, "I was giving him a headache."

"The question I have is, was that fire natural, or was it arson?" Selina asked.

"The fire inspector listed it as natural, but we're looking into it ourselves," Barbara said. She glanced at Clark, "Thanks for putting on the suit earlier with me. The people needed to see the Bat."

Clark nodded, glancing at Dick, "I can do his patrol for a few weeks. We need to get going, the pastor's coming. Dick, if you can help your sister, Selina, let me help you."

Dick nodded, "One other thing, my partner Amy's figured it out, and she whispered it to me in the receiving line. I was going to invite her to the private service tonight in the cave."

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The family entered the sanctuary as the organ slowed and stopped. The cathedral was silent, except for a baby's cry (quickly hushed), whispers and the occasional sob. They made their slow way to the front pew, Mattie twisting a white hankie in her black-gloved hands. The priest mounted the pulpit, adjusting the microphone, "Dearly beloved, brothers and sisters, we are here to celebrate the life of Bruce Wayne." Selina let out a wail.

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"Father Tim, is there a back room with an outside door? I think we could use a bit of privacy and fresh air," Selina asked, after shaking hands with the mourners, thanking them for coming.

"Certainly, my child, please come this way," he said, leading them off. After twisting their way through the corridors, he opened a door, "The anteroom for a private garden. Let me just unlock the outside door for you. Please take as much time as needed, you shan't be disturbed."

"Thank you, Father," Selina said. The priest smiled and moved off, Selina flicking her veil out of the way as Mattie removed hers. "Barbara, could you..."

"Certainly, be right back."

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With a small knock, the door opened to admit Sprink, Arthur, Griplink, Harry Spencer and Headmistress McGonagall. A second later, Amy Rohrback slipped in with Dick. Selina removed her hat with the bothersome veil, "Thank you all for coming. You all are of course invited to the private service tonight in the Cave, but for now, we have another matter. When Batman (her voice caught a bit) died, he was protecting a mother and her young son. That son had a Hogwarts letter, and is now an orphan." McGonagall's eyes widened, and Sprink gasped.

"Hogwarts?" Amy whispered to Dick, who replied, "Tell you later." She nodded as Selina continued, "We will be adopting young Tomas Ramirez, but not introducing him to life in the Clan until he's ready for it. Our objective right now is to ensure he has a proper education, and to introduce him to his new family."

Mattie took over, "That's one reason I've asked you to stay behind. I'd like to ask you to keep an eye out for Tomas, no matter which house he's sorted into. He'll always have a big brother or big sister to go to, or (she nodded to Griplink and McGonagall) an adult if he needs that kind of help. Aunt Sheila will forward to you copies of any necessary paperwork you need."

"I discussed this with Mr. Mackrack earlier," Griplink said. "He agreed, Mr. Ramirez is kin to you, and therefore kin to goblins." Minerva nodded, "The staff will, I am sure, help in any way possible."

"Thank you," Mattie said. "Now, shall we meet my new brother?"

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Tomas lay in the bed in his new private room, and listlessly watched TV. He had asked for Mama, but was told she had died. He had looked through his small box of things, but his magic letter had disappeared, and with it, his dreams. He just hoped the hospital would allow him to work off his debt. After coming to America, Mama had worked so very hard to give them a new life.

The nice nurse, Maria from Guatemala, knocked and asked with a smile, "Do you feel like visitors, Tomas?"

He sighed, "I am nobody, who would visit me?"

"Tomas! You are somebody, and you have visitors!" she scolded as she entered the room. "Now sit up, and let me wash your face. You must be proper to see them!" She bustled into the small washroom, returning with a handcloth which she used to clean his face and hands. Combing his hair, she stood back to inspect, darting in to scrub a tear-track she had missed. She nodded once, then went to the door, "Senora Wayne, he is ready now."

'Wayne?' Tomas thought, glance flicking to the TV, which still showed coverage of the funeral. 'No! It cannot be!' he thought.

"Tomas?" A beautiful dark-haired lady in a black dress stood by his bedside. "Tomas, I am Selina Wayne, I am here to help you."

His gaze flicked from her to the TV, and to another girl his age in a black dress. "I am sorry, Senora Wayne, but I do not understand."

"Maybe this will help, Tomas," the girl said, handing him ... his magic letter! She smiled, "My name is Mattie, and this letter is mine." She handed him another letter, another magic letter, addressed to her! He glanced back and forth, whispering, "Magic?"

"Yes, Tomas, magic. I can do it, and so can you," Mattie said. "I go to a special school in Scotland to learn how. The question for you Tomas, do you wish to go to school with me to learn magic?"

"I am sure that the school is very expensive, Seniorita Wayne, and I am a poor boy. I am praying that I can work off the hospital debt for myself and Mama. I thank you with all my heart, but I cannot."

"Oh, dear boy, is that what you're concerned about, the money?" Selina said, pulling him into a hug. "Don't worry about the money, it's all handled. That's my job, all you have to decide is to go or not." She held him at arm's length, "Wouldn't your Mama want you to go to school? To be happy?"

"Si," he whispered. "She was so excited when the bird came to deliver the magic letter, then she was so worried when the bad men came and locked us in the closet. Then the Bat-Man came to rescue us, but the door was blocked by the fire. He tried and tried to get it open, but could not. He put Mama over me and himself over Mama, and gave me a device to breathe with. He made me promise before God not to take it out until we were rescued." Mattie was crying, being hugged by Sprink, and Tomas asked, "Is the Bat-Man all right, Senora Wayne?"

Selina hugged him, "Oh, yes, Tomas, he's just fine."

Mattie wiped her eyes, "Tomas, I have a favor to ask. I have learned how to see another's memories. May I see that memory? My brother Dick (she held out her hand) is a police officer, he may recognize the bad men that killed your Mama."

"Si, for justice for Mama, who never hurt anyone, I will do this, even if it hurts like the devil himself!"

"It will not hurt, except to relive the memory," Mattie drew her wand, 'Legilmens!'

------------------------

"Dick, are you ready?" He nodded, 'Occlumens!'

------------------------

"Will I learn to do that?" Tomas asked, as Dick claimed a chair, rubbing his temples.

"Perhaps, child," Minerva said, coming forward. "I am Headmistress McGonagall of Hogwarts, and we have learned that every child's talents are different. Mattie is very talented in Occlumancy, as you've seen, but lacking in Transfiguration. We shall see what develops with you. Now, why don't you meet the others?"

------------------------

Babs moved over to Dick, asking quietly, "Recognize them?"

"Half a dozen of Marone's thugs. Hell Month comes early this year." He rubbed his temples, "Geez, Mattie packs a punch. I'll ask Minerva if there's a way to teach her how to moderate her power."

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Saturday, August 19, 2000:
Bludhaven, Beacon St. Dunkin' Donuts: 13:28
------------------------

Dick nodded to Amy as he got his coffee. Sitting across from her, he dumped a packet of sugar into his jumbo coffee, and took a bite of donut. Chasing it with coffee, he laid a small device on the table, switching it on. With another gulp of coffee, he said, "White noise device. Fire away."

"Well, it explains the unexplained absences and lots of sick time," she grinned, and he chuckled. Laying her hand across his, she added, "Once again, my sympathies. What can and can't you tell me?"

"Nobody's secret identities, they aren't my secrets to give," he said, and she nodded. "The coffin was filled with sandbags; Bruce's body will be cremated privately, to keep ghouls like Ra's from trying to resurrect him." She winced and nodded. "The will hasn't been probated yet, but I'll probably make a buck or two, maybe enough to retire on." He smirked, and took another gulp of coffee.

"Jerk," she said affectionately. "What's Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said, finger-quoting. "It's a school in Scotland where they teach magic. There are several around the world, mostly separated by language, there's one in France, another in Germany, one in Mexico City and so forth. We do have one in the States; it's The Salem Institute of Witchcraft in Boston." A bite of donut was chased by coffee. "Mattie will be starting her third of seven years there on September first. She'll graduate with what is basically a high school diploma; they fudge the records somehow so she can go on to muggle or magical university."

"Muggle?" she asked, taking a gulp of her own coffee.

"Non-magic user," Dick said, waving his finger between them; taking a slurp of coffee. "I'm not related by blood to Bruce and Mattie, Bruce adopted me. I'm a circus kid," he added with a touch of pride.

"If I can ask, what really happened?" she asked. "I find it difficult to believe the 'golf shed' story."

"You and I were on stakeout that night," he said, staring into his coffee. "Oracle told me later he got snookered, following a false trail for a weapons shipment. Bioweapons," he added bleakly. "He couldn't ignore that. Some of Marone's people decided to claim the bounty on the Bat's head, seventy-five mil, so they laid a trap, along with suitable bait: a homeless mother and her son. He went in to rescue them, and bang, steel door, I-beam blocking it, and burning down the building to make sure." He took another gulp of coffee. "It worked, almost. Bruce and the mother died, but the son survived. We have an eyewitness." He looked at her, his eyes blank and pitiless.

She shivered, than said, "I want to help."

He blinked, his eyes returning to their usual playfulness. "You and lots of others. We didn't even have to call in markers. Supes will be donning the Suit, we're planning a full-court press on Marone. We'll make an announcement, the easiest way out for his people will be to knock on the FBI's door with lots of evidence. After the window closes," he took a final gulp of coffee, "We go hunting."

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