Yay! Chapter 2 is here!

Enjoy

See notes at the end of the chapter for some bonus details about this story (Damian in particular).


Chapter 2: In Which There is A Lot of Cleaning to be Done

Tim was awoken by a loud and persistent knocking. He startled awake, his back cracking at the sudden movement. Blinking sleepily, Tim looked around. At first he was confused by the dusty room he was in. It took him a couple of seconds to orientate himself, but Tim finally remembered that he was in Grayson's so-called "castle." The mess and filth was even worse in the daylight. The hardwood floors were scratched and there were streaks of stains rubbed into the wood's finish. The fireplace wasn't much better now that he could see all of it. The fire was nothing but smoldering embers now in the middle of a mound of soot and ash that filled the entire firebox and spilled out over the raised lip of the hearth. It looked like no one had bothered to clean it out in years, much like the rest of what he could seen of the castle.

The knocking that had awoken him returned sounding more persistent and before Tim could make up his mind whether or not to answer it, he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps upstairs that quickly started to descend the staircase off to the right of the fireplace. Panicking slightly, Tim pretended to be asleep again, slouching low in his chair.

"Who is this?" he heard a young boy's voice snap. "How'd he get in here?"

"Coast City door," Jason answered, sounding bored.

Tim heard the boy tisk and scurry behind him, rifling through something. He peeked out of the corner of his eye and saw the boy quickly clasp a black hooded cloak with a yellow inner lining. The kid then pulled the hood over his head and his facial features were transformed into that of an old man with a long grey beard.

"Stand by," the disguised boy huffed as he descended the steps to the door Tim had come in through the night before. He fiddled with a knob on the door above the handle for a moment and a light chiming ding drew Tim's attention to a colored wheel on the wall above the entryway. There was an arrow at the top of the wheel and it was currently on a quarter that was colored blue.

"Mr. Mayor, good day," the boy's voice, deepened to sound more elderly, spoke to a man in fine clothes standing outside the door.

To Tim's surprise, from what he could see from his spot in the chair, the view out the door was no longer showing the hills or mountains of the Wastes that he had traversed the day before.

"Good afternoon, sir," the mayor said, nodding at the small figure in the doorway. "Is the great Wizard Robin at home?"

"I'm afraid that the Master is out at the moment," the boy said. "I speak for him in his absence."

"I come bearing an invitation from his Majesty, the King. The time for war is upon us. His majesty desires that every witch and wizard aid our homeland," the mayor said gravely. "Wizard Robin is asked to report to the palace immediately. That is all."

While the mayor and the kid exchanged farewells, Tim heaved himself up onto his feet and added more wood to the fire. He wasn't sure how fire demons worked, but he assumed that like any fire, it needed a fuel source. Jason hummed appreciatively, fingers of flame reaching for the wood eagerly.

"So the rumors of war are as serious as the papers say for once," Tim mused.

"Tt! And who might you be? What do you think you're doing here?" the boy demanded, stomping up the stairs still using the "old man" voice he'd used when speaking to the mayor.

"Jason let me in," Tim said, smiling pleasantly.

"I did not!" Jason protested. "He just wandered in here from the Wastes."

"He's from the Wastes? How do we know he's not some vagabond wizard or a witch's servant?" the kid snapped, throwing back his hood. His disguise disappeared and revealed the face of a boy who couldn't be older than 12. He had piercing dark blue eyes, hair that was pitch black, and his skin was tanned.

"Do you really think I'd let such a person in here?" Jason scowled, flames crackling angrily in indignation.

A bell rang before the kid could say anything more.

"Coast City door again," Jason sighed.

The boy frowned, stuffing an envelope that he must have gotten from the mayor into a large book that had all sorts of papers sticking out of it. "Must be a customer," he grumbled.

Tim bit back a smile. He'd never seen such a grumpy looking kid before. It was more adorable than threatening.

"Stand by," the kid called again as he threw the hood back over his head, his magical disguise of an old man returning before he opened the door.

This time there was a little redheaded girl standing there.

"State your purpose," the boy grunted.

"M-my Papa sent me to pick up a spell," the girl stammered.

"Name?"

"Harper."

"Tt! The usual spell?"

"I-I believe so."

"Come in then," the boy huffed, opening the door further to let the girl in.

Tim smiled kindly at the girl as they came up the stairs. The girl smiled back, but remained at the top of the stairs, looking like she didn't want to come in any further.

"Keep quiet, stay put, and behave yourself, old man," the boy hissed at Tim as he passed.

Tim, rather curious about their location, ignored the warning and moved towards the window facing out the same way as the door. To his wonder and delight, there was indeed a view of Coast City's famous blue ocean. From what he could tell, they were somewhere up on the cliffs near a main business area near the docks.

"Excuse me, mister," the little girl piped up. "Are you a wizard too?"

Tim turned to face the girl and grinned.

"Of course! I'm the scariest wizard of them all."

The girl giggled, but snapped to attention when the old man/boy approached her and thrust a small paper parcel filled with some sort of powder at her. "Our finest hangover cure. Your father should know what to do with it by now."

"Thank you!" the girl said, handing over money for the spell before hightailing it out of there.

As soon as she was gone and the door was shut, the boy turned on Tim, pointing a finger sharply at him.

"Don't go telling lies to our customers. It's bad for business!" he snapped.

"What about you?" Tim scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "You're wearing a disguise."

"I have to. I'm practicing my magic," the boy growled.

Before Tim could say anything else, the bell rang for a third time.

"It's the Metropolis door this time," Jason informed them.

The boy shot Tim another glare before throwing the hood back on. "Stand by."

He stopped at the door and fiddled with the knob again. This time the wheel on the wall turned until it stopped with another ding on the red quarter. When the boy opened the door, a man wearing the colors of a King's messenger stood beyond.

"Good day," the messenger said, "Might this be the residence of the Wizard Nightwing?"

"It is," the old man/boy grunted.

"I bear an invitation from his Majesty the King. Please inform Wizard Nightwing that all witches and wizards are required to report for duty at the palace."

"I will inform him right away," the boy promised.

Tim descended the stairs, staring in awe at the rich and ornate buildings he could see outside the door past the boy and the departing messenger. The royal palace could actually be seen up on the hill beyond the tall buildings that spanned over the next few city blocks.

"This is really Metropolis, the Royal City," Tim said softly in awe.

"Yes, yes," the boy said irritably. "Now get back inside or you'll lose your nose!"

Tim stepped back in time to avoid having the door slammed in his face.

"Stop wandering around!" the boy ordered, stomping up the stairs, and began muttering to himself in a language that Tim was unfamiliar with. It reminded him a bit of the language that Cassandra used to mutter to herself whenever she was feeling frustrated.

Tim mused quietly to himself for a moment on the bottom step, eyeing the knob and the door handle below. The round knob had a colored circle above it, the same red that the arrow on the wheel was currently pointing at. Curious, Tim twisted the knob and the circle above it and the wheel on the wall changed color. Green. When he pulled down on the handle below the knob the door opened and outside was the dense foggy land of the Wastes where he'd come in from. Stepping out onto the front step, he saw that this was where the main body of the moving castle resided.

Stepping back inside, Tim turned the knob again to the blue color and found himself back in Coast City. The red took him back to Metropolis. Before he could try to turn the knob to try to find the black color - the only color on the wheel he hadn't seen the destination of yet - the boy stomped back over.

"Stop that, you old fool! I'm getting angry."

"This is a magic house, isn't it?" Tim asked, already knowing the answer, but questions seemed to irritate the boy so he asked anyway. "Where does the black one lead?"

"Only Grayson knows that," the kid huffed, turning his back on Tim and stormed away again.

Tim snickered quietly to himself. The boy was certainly easy to rile up.

"Whatever. Do what you want. Grayson can deal with you," the boy announced imperiously. "I'm having breakfast."

Tim followed the boy into what appeared to be the kitchen area and watched him pull out a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. Frowning to himself, Tim spotted a platter of sliced bacon and a basket of eggs.

"Wouldn't you rather have some bacon and eggs?" Tim asked.

"We can't use the fire," the boy huffed, shoving papers and books and things aside to clear a spot for himself at the dining table. "Grayson isn't here."

Tim hummed, spotting pans and skillets hanging on the kitchen walls. He grabbed one and wiped it down just to make sure that it was clean enough to cook off of before approaching the fire.

"Don't worry. I can cook," Tim told the boy.

"It doesn't matter if you can cook," the kid sighed as if Tim was being particularly obtuse. "Jason only listens to Grayson...sometimes."

"That's right, geezer. I'm not cooking for you," Jason sneered, flames flickering menacingly as Tim approached with the pan, the basket of eggs and the plate of uncooked bacon.

Tim ignored him, rolling up his shirt sleeves to the elbow before hoisting the pan. "Alright, Jason. Let's get cooking."

"Forget it!" Jason snarled. "I'm a demon. I don't cook damn it! I answer to no one."

"Oh for heaven's sake, it's just some eggs and bacon. Behave or I'll dump a bucket of water on you," Tim huffed before lowering his voice and eyeing the demon with a mischievous glint in his eyes."Or would you rather I told Grayson about our bargain?"

Jason spluttered incoherently and angrily for a moment before hissing, "I never should have let you in here, you old bastard."

"So what'll it be?" Tim asked, shoving the pan into Jason's flames.

Jason resisted for a moment before dying down into a small flame with an angry hiss.

"That's right," Tim cooed. "That's a good fire."

"Here's another curse, Gramps," Jason growled. "May all your bacon burn!"

"He… Jason is doing what you say?" the boy gasped, sounding a touch impressed.

"I rather feel like tea. Do you?" Tim asked, smiling over his shoulder at the surprised looking boy. "Have you got a kettle?"

"...Sure," the boy nodded, hopping down from his seat and scurried into the kitchen.

"Hey!" Jason barked, flames flaring up minutely around the pan. "What do you think you're doing, Damian?! Don't get the kettle! Who's side are you on anyway, you little shit?"

Tim smiled to himself as the fire demon spouted angry words at the boy - who was apparently called Damian - but was ignored. Then the wheel by above the door dinged again, this time pointing to the black quarter. When the door opened it was pitch black outside. Nothing could be seen aside from the figure walking in. Tim was surprised to see the strange blond man he'd met on his way to the Birds of Prey cafe in Gotham. But that meant… Could that man really be...

"Grayson!" Damian called out, rushing over to watch the man trudge up the stairs. "The king's messengers were here. They said that you have to report to the palace. As both Robin and Nightwing."

"That sounds a bit ominous," the man's voice mused in a soft, weary tone. "It's because Bruce is missing. What did he have to get himself lost in the Waste for? The King seems to think that if those closest to Wizard Wayne couldn't find him, then he must be dead and someone else will do instead if he can find a powerful enough magic user."

Tim tried to keep his attention on the food cooking in the pan and not letting it burn. His heart started beating wildly in his chest. The man was the fearsome Wizard Grayson. Tim wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was slightly comforted when he remembered how kind the man had been to him only a couple of days ago.

Grayson seemed to have finally realized that someone else was present and walked over towards Tim, taking in what was happening at the fireplace.

"Jason," Grayson said, drawing the name out sounding amused. "You're being so obedient."

"Not on purpose," Jason said in a way that, if he'd been human, sounded like he was pouting. "He bullied me."

"Not an easy thing to do. Not just anybody can do that," Grayson chuckled, the light sound easing the tension in Tim's shoulders, only for it to return when the wizard's attention turned to him. "And you are who?"

"Ah… You may call me Timothy," Tim stammered, saying the first thing that came to mind. "I'm your new housekeeper." He was not a cleaning lady, thank you Jason, but the place could certainly use some maintenance.

Grayson hummed, blue eyes twinkling knowingly before taking the pan and wooden spoon from Tim who stumbled back a step in surprise as the wizard took over the cooking.

"Pass me two more bacon slices and six more of those eggs, if you please," Grayson instructed.

Tim dutifully handed over the requested food items, setting the bacon in the pan and handing over the eggs one at a time. Grayson cracked the eggs on the raised hearth before depositing the yolk in the pan with the bacon and the empty shells went to Jason. Jason's fiery visage appeared below the pan, his red mouth snapping open to consume the shells, making delighted hungry noises as he ate. Damian approached at some point and handed Tim a kettle full of water. Tim nodded his thanks and set the kettle deep in the ashes where Jason's flames could heat it.

"So who hired you?" Grayson asked after a few minutes of cooking.

"Jason did," Tim said, eyeing the fire demon in amusement as he munched on the egg shells, obviously enjoying himself. "He's disgusted with how dirty it is in here. I'm rather inclined to agree with him. I've never seen such a filthy house."

Grayson hummed, a smile pulling at his lips, before asking Damian to get the plates. Food done, Grayson took the pan over to the table where Damian was clearing off an even larger space so that more than one person could eat at the table.

"You're all ganging up on me," Jason complained. "After all I do for you. Jerks."

Tim smiled sympathetically at the fire demon. Jason rolled his bright green eyes, but his mouth formed a smirk. A tongue of flame shot out from his main body and poked pointedly at the kettle. Tim got the hint and picked it up, using his coat as a barrier so that he didn't burn himself on the hot metal.

"What are you just standing there for?" Damian demanded, making Tim jump and nearly pour scalding water down his front. "Come have some breakfast, Timothy."

"Now, now, Damian," Grayson tutted. "Mind your manners. Don't mind him, Timothy. He's just grumpy in the mornings."

Damian scowled at the blond man. Tim doubted that it was only in the mornings that the kid was grumpy. He'd yet to see the boy crack a smile.

As Tim took his seat at the table, Grayson served the food and Damian prepared and poured the tea after collecting the kettle from Tim. Then the boy thrust three eating utensils in his face.

"Pick one. Everything else is dirty," the boy explained. Frankly even the fork and two spoons offered to Tim looked questionable.

Tim picked one of the two spoons and made sure to wipe it on a clean spot on his shirt before using it to eat.

"I've certainly got my work cut out for me," Tim mused.

Damian only tutted in response while Grayson winced seemingly out of guilt, but was chuckling again. He was nothing like what Tim had imagined the fearsome Wizard Grayson would be like. For one thing, the man always seemed to have an easy going smile on his face. He wasn't intimidating on his own at present, but Tim figured that he had to be more than he seemed. Grayson hadn't earned such a fearsome reputation without good reason.

Grayson cut three slices off the bread loaf Damian had gotten out earlier and handed them out before raising his cup of tea in a toast.

"Let's enjoy our good meal. Bon Appetite."

"Bon appetite," Damian echoed. "I can't remember the last time we had a real breakfast."

That guilty look was back on Grayson's face with a wry smile, but he said nothing and picked at his food while Damian tucked in heartily. Tim watched in amazement as the boy seemed to inhale his food but somehow kept his manners intact. Someone at one point had taught the kid proper dining etiquette it seemed. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Grayson spoke up again.

"So, what's in your pocket, Timothy?"

Tim blinked in surprise at being addressed again so suddenly. He patted his pocket and heard the crackle of paper wrinkling. He pulled out a red square of paper that had been folded in half, and frowned at it in confusion. He couldn't remember seeing it when he'd gotten dressed yesterday morning.

"May I?" Grayson asked, hand held out for it.

Tim shrugged and passed him the paper, but the moment it touched the wizard's skin it sparked and black flames ghosted over Grayson's hand. The paper fell open on the table, revealing a strange symbol drawn on it. The paper disintegrated, but the symbol remained, burning itself into the wood.

"Scorch marks," Damian hissed. "Grayson, can you read them?"

"This is ancient sorcery. Quite powerful too."

"Is it from the Witch of the Waste?" the boy demanded.

"So it would seem. It says, 'You who caught a falling star, oh heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine'… That can't be good for the table," Grayson sighed as he extended his hand and placed it over the symbol burned into the table. He then proceeded to slowly swipe his hand over it. The symbol beneath burned and more black flames rose up along his hand. When Grayson finished moving his hand over the entire thing and swept it away the symbol was gone and there were only faint traces of black soot on his hand.

"It's gone," Damian said, a touch of awe in his voice.

"The scorch mark may be gone, but the spell is still there. Please, excuse me you two, and continue your meal," Grayson said as he rose from the table with his still mostly full plate, before approaching the fireplace and dumping the rest of his food into Jason's eager jaws. "Jason, move the castle 100 kilometers to the east. And while you're at it, make hot water for my bath."

"Fine, like moving the castle isn't hard enough," Jason snarled as the wizard retreated up the staircase.

"You don't work for the Witch of the Waste, do you?" Damian asked Tim suspiciously.

"Don't be stupid," Tim scoffed, gritting his teeth angrily. "She's the one who…"

Tim found that he couldn't finish his sentence. His teeth had suddenly glued themselves together. Right. He wasn't allowed to tell Damian about the curse that had been put on him.

"Confound it!" he snarled, slamming his fists onto the table, knocking over precarious stacks of books and papers that had been on it. Damian had been fortunate enough to snatch up his plate before it could topple to the floor too. "Damn that Witch of the Waste. If I ever get my hands on her, I'll wring her pretty little neck."

Damian only continued to stare at him for a moment.

"Finish your breakfast," Tim snapped. "I'm going to start cleaning as soon as I'm done eating. I have to start somewhere and it might as well be with the dishes."

Damian apparently decided to take Tim at his word because he finished his breakfast without comment.


True to his word, Timothy had started cleaning as soon as he was finished with his meal. He'd tried to start in the kitchen but the mess of the main entry/living room/kitchen/work space was so great, he'd had to rethink his strategy. Though he grumbled all the while, Damian graciously offered his assistance in clearing out spaces for Timothy to clean. If the old man was going to mess with their home, Damian thought he might as well make sure that the old fool didn't disrupt any of their artifacts and spells.

He cleared everything off the workbench, shelves, the cupboards and even took down the herbs hanging from the beams so that those could be cleaned too. They turned the magic door to the blue Coast City quarter and started dragging out what tables and chairs and other assorted furniture they could before cleaning out everything else just to get the room clear.

It took the greater part of the morning, but once most of the stuff was out of the room everything remaining was covered in dust covers that Timothy had found buried in an old broom cupboard that Damian hadn't known was there due to being hidden behind piles of stuff. Timothy then tied cloths over his nose and mouth and hair and began to sweep the dirt and dust and cobwebs off the ceiling and walls and then the floor.

Damian wrinkled his nose in distaste as a host of insects and mice started to scurry about, their nests disturbed, and began fleeing the house as Timothy relentlessly tackled his cleaning job, growling under his breath at the state of the castle. The old man said he couldn't understand how a wizard and a young boy could stand living in such a mess. Quite frankly, neither could Damian. He hadn't realized how bad the castle had gotten over the years. Grayson had really let it go since Damian had moved in.

The amount of dust kicked into the air was heavy and Damian found himself scurrying about in his old man disguise, snatching up a few stray items to take outside, coughing as he did so. Damian would never admit it if asked, but seeing Timothy attack the floors and ceiling and walls with such ferocity and determination scared him a little. Wherever did someone that old find that kind of energy and strength?

When a customer had approached him outside, wondering if his potion was ready, Damian had to tell them to come back later.

"There's a mage on a rampage in there," he'd said.

Granted, Timothy was no mage, but the way the old man tisked under his breath as he cleaned reminded Damian of his father's old friend and assistant, Alfred Pennyworth. He hadn't known the man very well during the short time he'd been in Damian's life, but knew that the mage had served as his grandfather's assistant before becoming his father's. Pennyworth had been this strange combination of housekeeper, mentor, confidant, and grandfather figure and had made his displeasure known immediately if Damian, Grayson, or any of his father's other apprentices had done something he'd disapproved of. Pennyworth had run a "tight ship" as the saying went and his death had hit everyone hard, especially when it happened so soon after Damian's father's disappearance in the Waste. Since then, Damian had moved out of his family's manor and had moved in with Grayson. It had been just the two of them and Jason for the last five years.

Once the door and window stopped emitting clouds of dust, Damian decided it was safe enough to head back inside. He found Timothy wiping down the tables and chairs that had been too big and heavy to drag outside. Damian was forced to help move things when they moved on to cleaning out the kitchen area and the nook under the stairs, but by mid afternoon he was rather impressed with Timothy's work. He couldn't remember the main floor looking this clean since before Pennyworth had died.

Timothy shooed Damian up the stairs after that so that he could mop the floors. Rather than go to his room, Damian perched himself up on the mid-story landing and watched Timothy transform the downstairs into a clean, gleaming living area. The only place left to clean was the fireplace. Jason's fire had died down over the course of the day and he looked like he was dangerously close to burning out. Grayson wouldn't like that. He was very fond of Jason. In spite of their constant sniping and back talk, the two were close friends. Damian couldn't remember when Jason had entered their lives, but it felt like the fire demon had always been there. Maybe he had been. The castle had been Grayson's even before Damian had moved in.

"Timothy," Jason groaned, sounding weak. "Tim... Timmy… Timmers… I'm going out. I need some fresh firewood. Quick! I'll die without it!"

Timothy was currently hefting a large tarp in his arms. He grunted, nodding, before approaching the fire. He set down the tarp with a heavy thud and pulled out a cauldron from the adjoining kitchen space and set it on the edge of the hearth. Damian watched curiously as the old man put a log of firewood inside before reaching for the fire tongs. Jason was apparently too weak to see what Tim had done and protested vehemently to being picked up by the last burning sliver of wood left in the fireplace, the pulsing lump that was the demon's core hung low and skimmed the ash. Tim eyed it curiously before lifting Jason high enough to keep it out of the ash and soot.

"What are you doing?!" Jason screeched - at least it probably would have been a screech if he wasn't so weak. "Don't! I'll fall! You crazy old bastard with tongs!"

"Oh hush," Timothy tisked, setting Jason's core and tiny flame on the log in the cauldron. "You'll be fine you demon child. I'm just cleaning out the ashes."

Timothy then proceeded to unroll the tarp over the freshly cleaned floor around the fireplace and carefully swept the ashes out onto it. Jason grumbled angry obscenities at the old man. The unimpressed looks Timothy occasionally gave the fire demon made Damian snicker. His smile vanished the moment he felt a hand ruffle his hair.

"Richard!" he hissed.

"So how's our new housekeeper coming along?" Grayson asked.

"Timothy is… formidable," Damian allowed. "He doesn't do a bad job."

"Not too shabby at all," Grayson agreed with a sad smile as his eyes roved over the clean floors, walls and ceiling. Things were still piled up high on various chairs and tables after having been brought back in from outside, and Damian dreaded having to help sort those things out.

Jason's voice started shouting again, drawing their attention back towards the fireplace. Timothy had finished sweeping up the ashes and was leaving with a full tarp out the door. Not a speck of soot had dirtied the freshly cleaned floors. Again, Damian found that he was impressed. Grayson descended the staircase then and set a couple of new logs in the firebox. Damian followed and watched as the older man picked up the cauldron Timothy had put Jason in and dumped it's contents into the fireplace.

"Dick!" Jason roared, flames erupting angrily as the fire demon resettled his form. "You pompous ass! How dare you inflict more suffering upon my person! Don't you know what that little old fart has already put me through?!"

"I believe that he's done a rather good job sprucing up the place. And he was kind enough to clean out your fireplace. All those ashes really weren't good for you. They could have built up so high they could have caved in and smothered you."

"He stuffed me in a crock!" Jason bellowed. "I could have gone out! If I die, you die too, Dickie, or did you forget that?!"

"We're alive aren't we? He put you in a dry container with fresh firewood. Though I'm sure he'll be more considerate about moving you next time. Won't you, Timmy?"

"Of course, sir," Timothy said, bowing courteously at the waist from his position at the top of the entryway stairs.

Damian hadn't noticed Timothy's return. The old man was surprisingly quite. Another quality he shared with old Pennyworth. Were all old men like that, or was his family just special and naturally attracted this peculiar breed of men to their lives? In spite of his initial misgivings, Damian had a strange feeling that Timothy was here to stay. He wasn't the only one. He noticed Grayson's smile straining minutely, before the man headed for the door, closing it on Coast City and turned the knob to the black quarter.

"Are you going out?" Damian asked.

"I'm afraid I have business to attend to, little brother," Grayson sighed, smiling wryly. "And Timothy, try not to get too carried away with the cleaning while I'm gone. Though I must say, you've done a remarkable job thus far."

And without another word, Grayson threw himself out into the mysterious black space beyond and vanished, the door slamming shut behind him. The wheel automatically turned back to Coast City's blue quarter.

Damian scowled. He hated it when Grayson left like that. Only Grayson was able to access the black door, and he'd been using it more frequently in the passing months. Damian had tried to follow, but only the red, blue and green quarters appeared for him. He was afraid of what Grayson was doing on the other side of that door. He was afraid he was slowly losing the only family he had left.

"You two are brothers?"

Damian resisted the urge to jump. He'd momentarily forgotten that Timothy was there.

"He's adopted," Damian sniffed. "My father was his mentor. After Father...disappeared he became my guardian and I moved in here. It's been just us-"

"Hey!" Jason growled.

"-and Jason," Damian added with a huff, "ever since. And now you I suppose."

"I'm sorry about your father, Damian," Timothy said softly. "He must have been a great man to have taught someone as reputable as Grayson."

"Dick," Jason scoffed.

"Pardon?" Timothy said, frowning at the fire demon.

"The jerk's name is Dick," Jason elaborated.

"His name is Richard Grayson," Damian chimed in. "Why he insists on going by Dick I'll never know."

"Because Dick's a dick," Jason snickered. "You're the only one who calls him Richard, Damian."

"Because that is his name." Damian scowled.

Timothy chuckled, turning away from them and went about straightening the downstairs. Damian glared one last time at Jason before hurrying to head the old man off so that all of his magic books and ingredients were at least put in an area where he could organize them properly later.

By the end of the day Timothy had pretty much cleaned every nook and cranny in the downstairs area. Damian helped Timothy make a bed on the sofa in the nook under the stairs so that the old man wouldn't have to sleep on the floor or in a chair again.

The next morning Damian awoke to the smell of another breakfast cooking over Jason's flames. How the old man was able to get Jason to do anything was beyond him, but he wasn't going to complain about having hot meals. That alone made Timothy worth keeping around. Grayson hardly ever cooked anymore.

Before heading downstairs, Damian peeked into his "older brother's" room. He wasn't there.

"Did Richard come home last night?" Damian asked Jason as soon as Timothy had retreated into the kitchen area to serve up their breakfast.

"No," Jason muttered. "I don't know what Dickie is doing, or where he goes when he goes out the black portal, but whatever it is, it must be important. His trips are getting longer."

Damian frowned, nodding grimly before joining Timothy for breakfast.

"Everything alright?" the old man asked.

"Everything is fine," Damian huffed.


Tim didn't believe the boy for a moment. The kid looked worried about whatever it was he'd been talking to Jason about. Tim assumed it had something to do with Grayson.

After breakfast, Tim helped Damian sort through his magic items, mostly putting things up on shelves that the boy couldn't quite reach without a step stool, and rehung the strings of herbs. Once everything downstairs was in order Tim made his way towards the stairs. He almost dreaded what he'd find up there. Who knew how big this place really was. Considering how massive the castle had looked on the outside, the main downstairs area was actually really small in comparison.

"Wait!" Damian suddenly cried, hurrying to cut Tim off and blocked his way upstairs. "You can't come up here."

Tim narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Damian, if the upstairs is anything like what it was like down here, then I am most certainly coming up there. If I were you, I'd put away whatever you don't want me to clean now before I get there."

Damian glared, standing defiantly before him before turning on his heel.

"Tt! Fine. But save my room for last, alright? I can pick up after myself. I'm not a child."

Tim chuckled as he watched the boy bolt up the stairs. His humor quickly evaporated, however, when he climbed the stairs and saw the state of the hallway. Everything - walls, stairs, floor, ceiling, doors - was coated in a thick coat of dust and cobwebs.

"What a mess," Tim grumbled, stopping outside the first door he came to. It was in a peculiar spot on a landing halfway between the first and second stories. It was a bathroom and it nearly made Tim gag. It was even worse than the one he'd cleaned downstairs. That bathroom had only had a toilet and a sink, but judging by the amount of dust that had coated that bathroom, it had been forgotten and left unused because it was blocked off by piles of things. This bathroom was obviously the one Grayson and Damian used regularly.

It was large and luxurious with both a shower stall and an immense bath with clawed feet and a large mirror over the sink vanity. But the sight of it made Tim wince, the smells rising from the toilet and the dirty water in the bath were horrendous. The mirrors and every available surface were coated in various nameless substances. A very large shelf above the bathroom's tub was crammed packed with various jars, boxes, tubes and bags which seemed to be the source for most of those substances.

"Honestly, how can those two live like this?" Tim groaned.

He really didn't want to, but Tim grit his teeth and got started. After a while, Tim couldn't stand the smells any longer and had to open a window. The window was gunked shut, but after a good shove, Tim managed to pry it open. The relief was instantaneous. After breathing in nice clean air, Tim was able to appreciate the view. The castle was moving! They were currently traveling along a mountain ridge high up above the Wastes. Down far below them there was a river, glittering in the late morning sunlight. Tim felt his breath catch over the majestic view.

"Amazing," he breathed before hurrying out of the bathroom back out onto the mid-story landing to see the castle's resident fire demon. "Jason! Jason! Are you moving the castle?"

"Of course I am!" Jason growled. "Who else could it be?"

"I'm thoroughly impressed," Tim said, grinning at Jason over the banister. "Your magic's first class. I really like you spark. I misjudged you completely."

Jason's flames spluttered, his green eyes wide and blinking in confusion.

"You think so?"

Tim's grin widened and with a nod he hurried upstairs, but not before he heard Jason whoop and yell, "He likes my spark! Finally! Someone who appreciates what I do."

Tim hurried past the bathroom he was halfway through cleaning and up to the second story, looking for a door that led outside. This was supposed to be a castle. Surely Grayson had a balcony or something to enjoy the view from, right?

As Tim reached the second story landing he heard Damian squawk, "Not yet! I'm not ready. Go away!" and his bedroom door slamming shut.

Ignoring the boy, Tim finally found a door that led outside to a small platform. He gazed in awe at the view before him. Jason was moving the castle down into a green valley where there was a crystal clear lake nestled among the mountain's peaks. They must have been high up in the mountains, because there were clouds hovering mere meters above the lake's surface.

After a moment Damian came out and joined him.

"It's called Star Lake," the boy informed him.

"It's beautiful," Tim murmured.

The boy nodded in agreement, a soft barely-there smile curling at the corners of his lips before something caught his attention. He bent over the balcony railing they were leaning on and inched closer to a stick that was sticking up out from a part of the castle's many open ports.

"Something's stuck in there."

Tim came closer and realized he recognized that stick.

"Oh dear," he fretted, reaching down to grab it. The wood vibrated in his grasp, pushing up into his hands. "Give me a hand, Damian."

"...Sure," Damian said, reaching over the help Tim wiggle the stick free.

After a moment finagling with the damned thing they managed to pop it free and up.

"A scarecrow?" Damian frowned once he got a good look at it.

"Yup," Tim sighed, smiling wryly at the strange thing. "I've been calling him Football Head. Somehow he always manages to get stuck upside down."

Football Head swayed in the breeze for a moment before twitching and with a big jump, managed to hop along the castle's side and up to the top where he bounced happily on an old gun turret.

"He keeps following me everywhere," Tim mused. "The odd creature seems to have taken a liking to me."

"Are you sure you're not some sort of mage or wizard, Timothy?" Damian asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously again, his gaze assessing.

"Oh yes," Tim said with a serious air before grinning down mischievously at the boy. "I'm the worst kind of wizard ever. The kind that cleans."

Damian only scowled back before re-entering the castle to resume picking up his room.

Tim took one last look out at the view before returning to his cleaning.


It was another hour before Tim was satisfied with the state of the bathroom. The room was now spotless and not a spot of grim could be seen. Afterwards, Tim moved on the cleaning up the stairway and hall so that Damian would have plenty of time to finish sorting out his room. Tim could honestly say that the kid's bedroom had been the tidiest and cleanest space in the entire castle. There was surprisingly little upstairs. Only the bathroom and two bedrooms - Damian's and Grayson's - which Tim didn't touch. For such a big castle, the house parts were rather small. Tim thought that there would be more to it, but there just wasn't. Damian and Jason had laughed when Tim inquired about it.

Apparently, before Grayson had built the moving castle a little less than five years ago, the house part that they were all residing in was the actual interior of the house in Coast City where Grayson had lived after finishing his initial apprenticeship under Wizard Wayne. The same Wizard Wayne who was the King's former Court Magician and Damian's father - who was apparently missing and not dead as he had been rumored to be back home in Gotham. And wasn't that a surprise? Tim had had no idea that he was now staying with such well connected magicians.

With no more rooms to clean in the house, that left the entire afternoon open and allowed time for doing laundry. Jason had settled the castle along the coast of Star Lake, so Tim and Damian got to enjoy the nice cool spring air outside. Football Head bounced around happily while Tim scrubbed clean the various clothes, sheets, towels and other various articles that needed washing. It was Damian's idea to tether a line on one of the scarecrow's arms to serve as a kind of clothes line. Football Head appeared delighted to help, vibrating as Tim tied the line and started pinning the wet clothes to it.

"Would you quit pulling?!" Damian snapped when the scarecrow got too enthusiastic and nearly tugged the other end of the line out of the boy's hands. Tim clucked his tongue and gave Football Head a stern look while he pointedly held the line still so that he could hang a sheet over it. Once Tim had one load of the wash done, the line was full and had no room for the next load that Tim wanted to wash.

"...We could tether it to the castle turrets," Damian suggested.

"But how on earth would we get the line up there?" Tim sighed, staring up at the castle.

Football Head solved that problem. The bewitched scarecrow bounce lightly up the side of the castle to the platform Tim and Damian had first viewed Star Lake from, the line of laundry flying behind him like a string of flags.

"Huh," Damian said, eyebrows raised. "That thing might actually have a brain in there somewhere."

Damian hurried inside and transferred the laundry line from Football Head's arm to the balcony railing while Tim secured the other end to a rock on the lake's shore. With that line taken care of, Tim and Damian moved on to wash the second load of laundry and repeated the process, this time leaving one end tethered to the castle and the other to Football Head's arm.

As evening was approaching, Damian and Tim brought out one of the smaller tables and a couple of chairs so that they could have supper by the lake.

"He seems to like doing the laundry," Damian commented, voice thick with amusement as the scarecrow bounced along the shore of the lake as far as the laundry line would allow him to go without allowing any part of the line to touch the ground. He seemed to be making a game of it.

"It'll be dry in no time," Tim agreed, pouring the tea.

"I wonder what he is," Damian wondered, watching. "Jason doesn't seem to mind him, so he could be some sort of demon, but I don't know what sort of self-respecting demon would take the form of a scarecrow of all things."

"Maybe," Tim mused, taking a bite of his sandwich. He chewed thoroughly before speaking again. "But he led me here, so maybe he's the good kind."

Damian snorted at that, but didn't say anything. He simply ate his dinner and alternated between watching the silly scarecrow, Tim, and the view they had of the lake as the sun set. The boy didn't even say anything after he finished and took their plates back into the castle. Tim decided that he was going to enjoy the view a little longer and remained seated in his chair, not realizing that when Damian came back outside he was rounding up Football Head and began taking the laundry down.

Tim must have started to doze in his chair because when he woke up Damian was standing next to him and informing him that all of the laundry had been put away. Blinking in surprise, Tim looked behind him and saw Football Head swaying on one of the castle's turrets unburdened by laundry lines which were noticeably absent.

"Thank you, Damian," Tim said, smiling softly at the boy before looking back over the water. "I suppose we'd better be getting these chairs and table back inside, but when you're old, all you want to do is stare at the scenery. It's funny… I've never felt so at peace before."

Damian stared at Tim in that way that Tim knew the boy was assessing him and processing what he'd said. Then the boy looked away.

"Tt! Let's just get back inside the castle before you fall asleep again and catch a cold, old man."

Tim chuckled before standing up with a groan. He patted the boy's shoulder fondly and was quite surprised when he wasn't brushed off.


And there we have chapter 2! I hope you guys liked it. It'd be much appreciated if you could take the time to write a short review to let me know how I'm doing.

I was asked what made me decide to write this story in a message on Tumblr, so here's my answer. It's kind of funny. I had been in my car just listening to a song (the opening) from the soundtrack of Howl's Moving Castle when the thought hit me of how funny it would be if the robins were cast as the characters. I could imagine that skywalking scene with Tim and Dick, and Jason being the fire demon, and Damian being a moody Markle. I liked the idea so much that I decided to write it as soon as I got home and before I knew it, I had 15 pages written by the end of the night. XD If only my other stories could come to me that fast. Now that I've finished reading the book, even more ideas and twists for this story have flared up and I can't wait to write them. I hope I'll have chapter 3 up soon (because is being evil and making me upload these chapters practically page by page with the copy/paste method I'm forced to use since I don't have Word Processor on my computer anymore), but I do have it written (I posted these chapters on AO3 a few months ago) and I can tell you it starts from Dick's POV.

That said, how did everyone like the part of this chapter from Damian's POV? I hope it gave a little more insight to how his and Dick's backstory is in this fic. Out of all the robins I feel like Damian's the one I know the least about, so it's a little hard for me to nail down his character, even in this AU. He addresses Dick as Grayson in the narrative and for the most part whenever Tim's around, but does call him Richard on occasion when they're being brotherly. That's Damian's formal-habit-ness in action. Alfred did teach Damian proper etiquette before he died. (Yes, Alfred is dead, I am so sorry but I needed a reason for why Damian would be living with Dick in a dirty house) In this fic, Damian grew up with Bruce and Alfred and not Talia (I'll be getting to her next chapter as well), so that's the reason Damian isn't particularly standoffish with Tim and is only suspicious. This Damian's actually had a decent childhood, so his character is less violent and more childlike than what he's known for.

If you guys are interested in any particular scenes from the movie or the book that you'd really like to see in a particular character's POV, please feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to work it in. :)