Four.
Four days. That's how long Batman had been at Hogwarts. A day had passed since Harry had received his Nimbus 2000 at the breakfast table, and Harry had successfully gotten through his first training session with Oliver Wood, plus two practices with the whole team.
Now, the day of the first match had arrived. Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
Harry was so anxious, he was visibly pale.
Sitting at the breakfast table, toast and marmalade untouched, Ron, Hermione and even Batman had all tried to calm the Boy Who Lived down and get him to eat, but with no success. All the Qudditch players at the Gryffindor table weren't eating, muscles taut and faces grim as they prepared themselves for the first game of the season.
Batman watched these particular people with interest. He found it fascinating that such a simple thing as a magical game played on flying broomsticks could have this much effect on a person. He'd never seen any of the students act this serious in the couple days he had been at the castle. Even Fred and George seemed nervous, and for once neither of them had smiles on their faces and neither of them cracked a single joke.
After the tense breakfast, the team met together in the Common Room, going over the game plan one more time before the match in an hour. Then Harry joined Ron and Hermione by the fire, a stony, glazed expression on his face, as if it just hit him that it was almost time for the match. Hermione tried keeping up a light conversation with him with absolutely no success, and finally the three of them simply sat in silence, Batman watching them soundlessly from the shadows.
Finally, the time to head down to the Qudditch Pitch arrived. Harry got up from the couch like a zombie and joined the rest of the team as they walked out of the Common Room, the rest of the Gryffindors and Batman all trailing behind them, excitement hanging in the air.
The procession met up with the huge gaggle of the rest of the school in the main hall as everyone made their way out the gigantic doors and outside toward the Qudditch Pitch. As Batman was swept out the doors with the crowd, he realized that this was the first time he'd truly been out of the castle since he'd woken up in the hospital wing. The closest he'd been was when he was in the courtyard at flying lessons two days ago. Now, he relished the sweet breeze on the little bit of his face that was exposed to the world,and cherished the clean air. He hadn't realized just how much he'd been missing it.
He closed his eyes briefly, but then snapped them open again as he felt himself being watched. Sweeping the crowd making their way down the grassy hill to the pitch, he noticed a couple of teachers dotted among them. McGonagall, Snape, Quirell and Sprout, all spread out amongst the students, supposedly going to watch the game.
The only thing unnerving was that all four of them were watching him unswervingly.
Batman realized with a sense of annoyance that they were sent out to keep an eye on him, there to make sure that he didn't try anything fancy. They must know that he had practically no chance at all of ever getting through their magical boundaries with his current resources, but it seemed that Dumbledore was taking no chances.
Well, let them watch him. He wasn't going to try anything, though the thought had crossed his mind. He did want leave, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how to pick his battles, and making a hopeless escape attempt was fruitless. Plus it would break any trust he had managed to gain with the Headmaster.
No, he wasn't going to try anything drastic. Not here and now, anyway.
Ignoring the teachers, Batman set his sights on Ron and Hermione, who, now that Harry and the team had disappeared, seemed excited and cheerful. He followed them into the stands and sat next to them as they took their seats.
It seemed incredibly weird to sit down like a normal person, and Batman was horribly aware of it. As Bruce Wayne, it would have been no big deal. But as Batman, he was completely out of place and he knew it. He was the oddball in the sea of students. But unlike other scenarios he'd been in since he'd come to Hogwarts, he could not simply stay standing. He would be blocking everyone's view. So he was forced to sit and feel like an idiot.
Ignoring the uncomfortable feelings and many stares, Bruce focused on the Qudditch Pitch. This was the first time he'd seen it, and he was surprised by it's size. Since everything's in the air, he would have thought the ground part of it would be fairly small, but it was at least the size of a football field, and took up a ton of room. He was thinking about how they must have constructed it, when it occurred to him they probably just waved their wands and the pieces simply built themselves.
"How are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"Fine," Batman answered flatly.
Hermione smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure this is odd for you," she said. "You didn't have to come."
"I know. But I promised Harry."
Hermione looked surprised. "Really?"
Bruce nodded slightly, a little bit embarrassed.
Hermione smiled, showing bucked teeth. "That's…that's actually very sweet of you."
Batman turned away, embarrassed, cheeks burning under his mask. Why had he told her that? Stupid.
Luckily, he was saved any more embarrassment by an explosion of applause as the Gryffindor's walked onto the field in their bright red robes with gold trim, names called out by a magnified voice that called himself Lee Jordan. Hermione and Ron were jumping up and down, yelling like mad. Bruce simply clapped his gloved hands quietly, unwilling to show much enthusiasm.
Next, the Slytherin team, clad in bright green robes with silver trim, appeared, and their names announced, much to the boos of the Gryffindor supporters.
The crowd fell silent as the two teams faced off and the captains shook hands. Then both teams mounted their brooms and took to the air. Madam Hooch quickly reviewed the rules and then put her whistle to her lips, the red soccer ball-sized sphere that Batman now knew from Ron was called the Quaffle held in her hand.
Then, as if in slow motion, Madam Hooch blew the whistle, the shrill sound echoing across the field, and threw the Quaffle into the air.
Immediately all hell broke lose as the teams dived for the Quaffle, all the players from both teams grabbing for it save six; the two Keepers, the two Seekers, and the four Beaters.
Batman watched each player intently, losing sight of the Quaffle many times in the flurry of colors and listening to the possession going back and forth. "And Gryffindor's in possession! Ooooo no, stolen by one of the Slytherin Chasers. Oh wait; he's hit by a Bludger from one of the Weasley twins! Now Bell has the Quaffle, is speeding down the field towards the hoops, she aims, she throws, she scores! TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor supporters erupted into cheers; red and gold banners waving as the celebrated the goal. Batman watched them with a small smile. It had been a while since he'd been to a sports event like this.
The game continued with a flurry of goals from both sides. The score was up to seventy-fifty with Slytherin in the lead.
Batman glanced at Ron and Hermione. Ron was staring at the players, eyes darting as he watched each one with awe, slack-jawed. Hermione was sitting hunched up, knees to her chin, biting her nails furiously. He smiled slightly and looked back at the game, eyes finding Harry. He was still circling above the other players, scanning the field for any sign of the Snitch, which had yet to be spotted. His movements were graceful and precise, and he handled his new broom nicely. It was obvious he was a natural.
Batman watched Harry for a good few minutes, automatically memorizing and analyzing each move he made, storing it in the back of his brain in case he needed it. He couldn't help it. Years of crime fighting had made it second nature to him. He was so transfixed with Harry, watching his deft moves, that he didn't hear the dramatic change of cheers to screams until Hermione was screeching in his ear.
"OH. NO!" she shrieked, staring at the field in horror. Batman's head whipped down away from Harry to see one of the Gryffindor Chasers—Katie Bell, Lee Jordan was yelling—spiral down from the sky and land with a sickening crunch on the field.
Immediately, Madam Hooch's whistle filled the air, stopping the game, and Madam Promfrey along with Professor McGonagall hurried onto the field. They rushed up to the fallen girl, and Batman saw McGonagall conjure a stretcher out of thin air and gently lift Katie onto it. Madam Promfrey made a quick examination, then hurried over to Madam Hooch and whispered something into her ear. Hooch nodded, pulling out her wand and muttering something before pointed it to her chin.
Suddenly, her voice filled the arena, magically magnified. "Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell is out of the game," she announced. "The Gryffindor team must find a replacement and resume the game within five minutes or they forfeit the match."
Shouts of protest filled the Gryffindor stands, and an ashen-faced Gryffindor team touched down on the field and formed a huddle. When it broke up, Batman could clearly see the expressions of defeat on their faces, and realized what it meant.
They didn't have anyone to replace Katie Bell with. They had to forfeit the game.
Batman looked at Harry, frowning at the crestfallen expression on his face. He knew that this game meant a lot to him. He wished there was something he could do, but he was powerless, something that was extremely infuriating to him. He watched as Harry started to make his way off the field with the team, shoulders slumped.
But halfway off the pitch his posture suddenly changed, shoulders rocketing back up as if an idea had just hit him. He ran over to Wood and started talking to him a mile per minute. He saw Wood's posture also straighten slightly, and he started talking furiously back and forth with Harry. And then Harry was rushing off the field…and into the stands.
A murmur of disbelief rose through the crowd as Harry raced up the aisles of the Gryffindor bleachers, stopping breathless at the edge of one of the rows.
Batman's row.
Their eyes locked, and in that moment Bruce knew with a sense of dread what he was going to say even before he said it.
"Batman. We need you to play Qudditch."
Batman's first answer popped into his head the moment Harry said the words. NO. N-O. No way was he going to go out there, mount some stupid enchanted broom and fly around like an idiot with a red ball.
Then the second answer popped into his brain. YES. He was looking into Harry's face, the sweat glistening off it, and the sheer hope that maybe Batman would do it, maybe he would go out there and fly and save the Gryffindors from forfeiting the game, written across it. Yes. That was his job, right? Saving people?
Uncertainty clouded his thoughts as his mind raged a battle that had been going on for days. He looked back up at Harry unsurely.
The eleven-year-old boy was staring at him, green eyes wide behind his circular glasses. "Please, Batman," he whispered. "We need you. I need you."
And at that moment, the decision was made.
Before any part of him could object, Bruce had said the word: "Yes."
The effect was immediate. Harry's face lit up with relief and joy as Batman stood up from his seat. "I knew you'd say yes," he whispered, so only Bruce could hear.
"ONE MINUTE!" Madam Hooch's voice rang out.
"Come on!" Harry exclaimed, turning to race down the stairs. Batman's muscles sprang into action as he easily matched Harry's speed. It felt good to run again. Cape whipping out behind him, he and Harry reached the grassy ground of the pitch in seconds and raced up to the red and gold team.
Wood was beaming. "So you'll do it?" he asked excitedly, looking up at the tall masked figure. "Yes," Batman said without hesitation. He'd made his decision. Wood let out a whoop and punched the air.
And then Madam Hooch was there. "You have a replacement?"
"Yes," Oliver answered, pointing to Batman. "Him."
Hooch looked Bruce up and down with a critical eye. "You're not a wizard and you're not a student…" she said thoughtfully. "So I'm not sure if that's allowed."
"Well, what does the rules say exactly?" Harry asked.
Madam Hooch pondered this for a moment, before reaching into the pocket of her robe and pulling out a small worn booklet. She flipped through a couple of pages and stopped on one.
"If there is an injury and a player cannot resume play, then that player can be replaced within five minutes time by an eligible person of the captains choosing and that is approved by the referee," she read, before slipping the book back into her pocket and turning back to Batman. "It does not say that the person in question has to be a student or a wizard, so you are eligible there," she said. "But it does say 'approved by the referee'."
She smiled as everyone held his or her breath. "So I guess it's my decision then, isn't it?" she concluded.
Deadly silence filled the stadium as the team stared at Madam Hooch, tension and hope controlling their every being.
"All right," she relented finally. "I approve. He plays!"
The team let out a whoop of joy. They weren't going to forfeit! Gryffindor still had a chance to win the game!
"Someone get him a broom!" Wood declared, and Fred and George stopped their mad happy dance, racing off towards the sheds to retrieve Batman a broom for the game.
"The Gryffindor team has found a replacement!" Madam Hooch announced through her wand. "The Batman will be taking the place of Chaser Katie Bell for the remainder of the game!"
A deafening cheer rose up from the Gryffindor stands, echoed too by the Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's who came to watch the match, completely obscuring the outraged cries of the Slytherins.
"WHAT?" Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain cried, racing up to Hooch, face red with fury. "You can't let him play!"
"Says who?" Madam Hooch said calmly.
"Says the rules!" the green clad Chaser screeched. "He's not a student! He's not even a wizard! He can't be allowed to play!"
"Actually I think he can," Madam Hooch said confidently, once again taking out her battered booklet and shoving it in the Slytherin's face. The captain read the rules with angry eyes.
"I can't believe this!" he screamed, throwing the booklet to the ground. "This is completely unfair!"
"Too bad," Hooch said disdainfully, picking up the booklet and dusting it off systematically. "Now get out of my face before I disqualify you."
The Slytherin shot Batman a look of pure venom before stomping back to his own team.
Oliver smiled. "Now that was the highlight of my day," he muttered, before turning to Batman. "Do you know how to play?"
"Yes," Bruce said, reviewing everything that Harry and Ron had explained to him in his head in a few seconds and quickly going over what Hooch had taught him about flying. Mental images of Harry and the other players flying across the field danced across his brain, each move and tactic stored perfectly in it. He'd never really thought he'd use them, but he realized now that they might be all that kept him on his broom.
"Here!" Fred and George said in unison as they appeared back on the field, holding the nicest Comet Two-Sixty they could find in their hands. They handed it to Batman, who immediately mounted it, trying to get a feel for it.
"Can you give him a few minutes to practice?" Oliver asked Madam Hooch, nodding to their new player.
Hooch hesitated for a moment. "One minute," she told him. "But don't push your luck, Wood."
Wood nodded, mounting his own broom and motioning for Batman to join him in the air. Bruce obliged, holding the Comet steady as he kicked off the ground and rose into the air.
The feeling wasn't unlike jumping off a building back in Gotham with his Bat-Glider, except for the fact that he was going the other direction. Bruce was surprised to find himself calm and comfortable, easily maneuvering the flying household object. The wind whistling in his ears, he flew up next to Wood.
Oliver seemed impressed. "You catch on fast," he commented. He motioned to Angelina Johnson below, and the girl Chaser obediently threw up the Quaffle, which Wood caught deftly in his left hand.
"All right, so you're a Chaser," the Gryffindor captain explained. "You work with Angelina and Alicia." He pointed to the two girls down below, who waved. "Your job is to keep this—" he held up the Quaffle, "in position of one of you three, and try to score on one of the Slytherins three hoops." He pointed to the three golden hoops on the opposite end of the field. "The Slytherin Chasers will try to stop you and get the Quaffle from you, so don't let them. You can always use Angelina and Alicia if you need help. And watch out for Bludgers. Got it?"
Batman nodded. It was like a giant game of keep away.
And Bruce had always been good at keep away.
Oliver smiled. "Great," he said. "I really think we can pull this off-if Harry manages to get the Snitch, that is. Let's do a couple practice throws."
Wood flew a little ways back and threw the Quaffle expertly at Batman, who caught the reddish ball with ease.
"Good!" Wood shouted, as he caught Bruce's return pass. "Now lets try a harder one!"
He threw the Quaffle hard, putting a spin on it, aiming directly for Batman's head. Instinctively, Batman rolled over, making him do a vertical three-sixty on his broom, and caught the Quaffle tightly in his right hand as he came around.
Once he'd righted himself, he threw it easily back to Wood.
The Gryffindor fifth year caught it, staring at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. He flew back over to Batman, eyes wide with wonder.
"Usually people just put their hands in front of their face and catch it," he told him, laughing slightly. "But that worked too. Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Nowhere," Batman said truthfully. "Just instinct."
"Seriously?" Wood asked in disbelievement.
"Seriously." Bruce said.
"Time's up!" Madam Hooch yelled, and Oliver and Batman returned to the ground with the rest of the team.
"He's really good," Wood said breathlessly, pointing at Batman with a look of absolute joy written on his face. "I've never seen someone do a move like that on their first time on a broom!"
Angelina and Alicia were looking at Batman with slight awe, all traces of doubt at his abilities gone. Fred and George were beside themselves with excitement, slapping Batman on the back and telling him how happy they were he was going to play.
"And you can do more moves like that, can't you, Batman?" Harry asked excitedly, joy shining in his eyes. The whole team turned to look at the Dark Knight expectedly.
"Yes," Bruce said confidently, something close to excitement also rushing through his veins as the act of flying triggered an adrenaline rush. He was already thinking through all the flips and other moves he had mastered through his training and years of crime fighting. He was sure he could do many flips and other moves, and he wasn't even slightly worried about falling. If he did, he always had his Bat-grapple, even if he'd be disqualified for using it.
Which reminded him. He turned to Hooch. "I take it I can't use any of my gadgets during the game?" he asked the referee.
Madam Hooch shook her head. "No, I can't allow that," she said. "I'll let you wear the belt, but if you use anything from it, it's a penalty."
Batman nodded. That was fair.
The gray-haired witch turned to Wood. "You're all ready?" she asked.
Oliver nodded. "Yes," he said, gripping his broom.
Hooch nodded. "Line up!" she yelled, and both teams lined up, facing each other.
"Captains, shake hands!"
Wood and Flint shook hands, grabbing each other in deathly-tight grips, staring each other down coldly.
"Mount your brooms!"
The players mounted their brooms. Bruce tucked his cape gently behind him.
"Take to the air!"
All the players kicked off from the ground and flew to their positions. Keepers to the rings, Seekers high above to find the Snitch. Beaters scattered around, readying their Beater Bats for Bludgers. Batman stayed by Alicia and Angelina, along with the three Slytherin Chasers, hovering above Madam Hooch, eyes fixed on the red Quaffle that she held in her hand.
"On my whistle!" she shouted, before putting the silver instrument to her lips and blowing fiercely, throwing the reddish ball into the air.
Pandemonium broke out as all the Chasers dived for the ball. Batman's strategic mind was working a mile per minute, and as the ball flew through the air, he flew away from the Quaffle instead of towards it. When the first player broke away from the pack of students, he was the first to see him. It was a Slytherin, Adrian Pucey, taking off towards the Gryffindor goal posts before Angelina or Alicia could make their way out of the flurry of Chasers to follow him.
Batman had no such problem. He leaned forward on the broom handle and shot towards the Slytherin Chaser, surprising the student by how fast he caught up with him. Pucey tried to out fly him, but Batman easily matching his speed, watching him intently as he read his body language. Once Pucey realized he couldn't fly faster than Bruce, his hands twitched slightly, and Batman knew that he was going to swerve to his left, away from him. But as the Slytherin started to turn, Bruce turned his broom horizontal to Pucey's broom, catching the Chaser off guard and blocking him with his body and broom so he could not complete the move. Surprised, Adrian tried to turn to the right, and in the act exposed the Quaffle wrapped tight under his arm to Batman. Without hesitating Bruce wrenched the red ball out of his grip, angled his broom up, and flew over Pucey, heading down the field in the opposite direction.
"And an amazing block and steal by the Gryffindor substitute Chaser!" Lee Jordan's commentary echoed across the field in Batman's ears. "He demonstrated a classic block, throwing the Pucey off guard so that he could take the Quaffle! Anybody know where he could've learned that?"
Smiling Bruce raced down the field, conscious of Angelina and Alicia a little ways off on either side of him, backing him up, and the wild cheers from the stands. He was surprised to hear a name being shouted and chanted among them, and it took him a moment to figure out what it was.
"BAT-MAN! BAT-MAN! BAT-MAN!" The chant was being yelled across the stadium at a huge volume. Batman was almost too shocked to keep flying. They were cheering on him! The thought was mind-boggling, but he didn't have time to take in the wonder if it. He had a more immediate problem.
Two Slytherins were closing in on him, one on either side. He could clearly see Flint and Pucey out of his peripheral vision, pure hatred written on their faces. He was about to climb higher, out of their range, when he realized the third Slytherin Chaser was above him, blocking that escape. A sense of dread washing over him, he looked down to see one of the Slytherin Beaters below him, effectively cutting off his exits and stopping him from trying any maneuvers.
He could no longer choose which way he was steering, only directed by the tight formation the Slytherins were forming. And looking ahead, he could see where they were leading him.
One of the giant structures that held the stands for the viewers, draped with a Slytherin banner for decoration. He was going to crash into it, and the Slytherins all around him prevented him from steering away from it.
As the contraption loomed at him, coming up at incredible speed, Batman's mind assed the situation at an inhuman pace. Almost immediately, a plan formed in his mind.
The Slytherin banner was right in front of him now, and he was aware of the Slytherins suddenly swerving away as he entered his crash course. But at the last minute before he hit the tapestry, Batman put his plan into action.
And jumped off the broom.
Wind whistling in his ears, it seemed to happen in slow motion. He jumped off his broom, keeping the handle clutched tightly in his left hand, the Quaffle tucked under his right arm, as his momentum kept him flying towards the banner. Systematically, he put his feet out in front of him, knees to his chest, and as the structure neared he lashed them out, running up the wooden frame like it was the floor, using his momentum and speed to keep him from falling. And as his spine stretched towards the ground and he could no longer run, he executed a perfect backflip, pulling the Comet Two-Sixty back under him in the process, and landed smoothly back on the broom, the Quaffle still in his possession.
Turning his broom around, Batman continued racing down the field toward the Slytherin hoops.
The crowd went nuts. "UNBELIEVEABLE!" Lee was screaming. "I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT! HE MANAGED TO AVOID CRASHING INTO THE STANDS! HE JUMPED OFF HIS BROOM, AND DID A RUNNING BACKFLIP OFF THE SLYTHERIN BANNER! THIS IS ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS, FOLKS!"
Batman smirked at the words. Never, in his whole life, did he ever dream that he'd be in a magical history book at a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
How much weirder could this week get?
A movement out of the corner of his eye snapped Bruce's mind back into focus. He was almost at the Slytherin hoops now, and two of the Chasers had just flew in front of him, preparing to block his path. Even as his mind raced through countless possibilities of blocks they might use, he saw them level off, and realized exactly what they were doing.
One Slytherin was hovering horizontal to Batman, slightly higher than his pointy-eared head, and the other was just a little bit below him, also horizontal. There was only a tiny space left between them.
Too small of a space for both the broom and Batman to fit through.
The Slytherins had executed the move perfectly. They formed the block fast enough that Bruce was coming in too fast to dive or swerve. He would run head long into the two Chasers, knocking him off his broom, whereas the two Slytherins horizontal positions gave them something to hold on to to stop them from falling from Batman's head-on crash. It would hurt, but the space between them would most likely help avoid any broken bones, and they should still be able to manage to stay on their brooms. That is, if they had practiced the move before, and knew how to brace themselves for impact.
And Batman had a feeling they wouldn't be using the move if they didn't know how to do it correctly.
In the split second it took for Bruce to analyze the situation, the solution came to him.
The block probably had some sort of fancy name here, but the problem it posed to Batman was not unlike one everyday skateboarders had all the time.
And knowing that gave him the solution.
As the colors green and silver flashed before his eyes at incredible speed, Bruce calculated his plan.
And in the last minute before he crashed into the tight formation of players, he once again jumped off his broom.
Just like when he'd done the flip off the banner, this move too seemed to go in slow motion for the Caped Crusader. One moment he was about to barrel head long into the two Chasers, the next he'd sprung off of the wooden handle of his Comet Two-Sixty and was catapulting up into the air, conscious of the Slytherins staring at him in surprise, jaws hanging open. He watched as his broomstick, still going a good couple miles per hour, whizzed through the opening between the Slytherins as he executed an impeccable dive over the head of the top Chaser, smirking at Marcus Flint's astonished upside-down face as he went.
And then he was falling, feet first, legs spread wide, as his broomstick whooshed out from the space between the two stunned wizards to come out underneath him for a split second.
And in that split second, unerringly timed, Bruce landed back on the broom, the Quaffle still tucked neatly under his arm as he continued speeding towards the Slytherins three golden hoops like nothing had happened.
A deafening roar filled the stadium as the crowd leaped out of their seats in cheers. No one had ever seen a Qudditch game like this before.
"AMAZING!" Lee Jordan yelled, voice hoarse from shouting his commentary above the crowd. "THE BATMAN AVOIDS THE SLYTHERINS BLOCK BY ONCE AGAIN JUMPING OFF OF HIS BROOM, DIVING OVER THE CHASERS, AND LANDING BACK ON HIS BROOM WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST ERROR! THIS IS COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED! BATMAN'S LEAVING THE SLYTHERINS IN THE DUST WITH HIS SPECTACULAR MOVES!"
Bruce smiled again, unable to contain his glee at how well this was working out. He was not regretting his decision to play the game one bit. He hadn't had this much fun in months!
As the golden hoops neared him, Batman noticed flashes of red and gold on either side of him, and he realized Angelina and Alicia were now flocking him, both grinning from ear to ear. Angelina gave him a thumbs up, and Alicia pointed to the hoops.
Bruce got the message: "You're doing great. Keep going. Score. We got your back."
He nodded and sped ahead, conscious of the red Quaffle still clutched tightly under his right arm.
And then he had reached the Slytherin goal posts. The Keeper—a boy named Bletchly—was sitting on his broom, hovering loosely in front of the middle hoop, ready to dive if needed to stop Batman from scoring. He looked worried. Bruce smirked. Good. He should be.
Out of his peripheral vision, Batman could see Alicia and Angelina effectively blocking the Slytherin Chasers, stopping them from getting to Bruce before he could score. He had all the time in the world.
Un-tucking the Quaffle from it's position under his arm, Batman weighed the reddish sphere in his hand, contemplating his options, purposely taking his time and making the Slytherin Keeper even more nervous.
And then, without warning he flicked his arm to the right.
Immediately, Bletchly dived in front of the right hoop to stop the Quaffle, but the red ball never came that way. Turning his head, Bletchly was just able to see the blood red ball rocket through the middle hoop and realize his mistake.
He'd been tricked by the oldest trick in the book. He'd been faked out.
"AND THE BATMAN SCORES!" Lee screamed, voice cracking from the effort of making himself heard over the roar of the crowd. "TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR! THE SCORE IS SEVENTY-SIXTY WITH SLYTHERIN HOLDING THE LEAD BY A MERE 10 POINTS! THE GAME COULD BE HANGING IN THE BALANCE HERE, FOLKS! THIS IS A MATCH I THINK NOBODY WILL EVER FORGET!"
Smiling freely for the first time in a long while, Bruce did his victory lap around the field, much to the cheers and whoops of his fellow teammates. Glancing above him, Batman managed to catch Harry's eye. He grinned and mouthed "Nice job!" before returning to scanning the field for any sign of the Golden Snitch.
And then the game resumed. The Slytherins started with the Quaffle, forming a determined triangle as they raced towards the Gryffindor goal posts. As they flew down the field, Angelina came up alongside Bruce, who was hovering near the Gryffindor hoops, thinking.
"Do you have a plan?" she asked. "Or do you want Alicia and I to try something?"
"I have a plan," Batman answered, and quickly explained it to the Chaser, who jetted over to Alicia and repeated his words. Then the three of them took up their positions as the Slytherin Chasers neared.
Bruce hovered in front of the center hoop by Wood; Alicia flew off towards the right, and Angelina to the left.
Wood looked at Batman, confused. "What're you guys doing?" he asked worriedly. "I don't know this line up."
"Just trust me," Bruce said confidently. He was positive this would work, and would throw the Slytherins into disarray.
The triangle of Chasers was almost upon them. "Um, Batman, they're getting really close!" Wood shouted, doubt in his voice.
"Wait for it," Bruce murmured.
Only when he could see the individual lines on the Quaffle did Batman lift up his hand with two fingers pointing to the sky, signaling to Angelina and Alicia.
Immediately, the two girls sprang into action, diving, swerving, loop-de-looping, and any other thing they could think off in front of and behind the Slytherins, blocking their line of view and confusing them, forcing them to spread out to get around them.
And when Marcus Flint approached the goal posts with the Quaffle, eyes lit with determination as he sped towards Wood, he didn't notice the black-clad figure just below him until he was too late.
Without warning, Batman flew straight upward, the tip of the handle of his Comet facing the sky as he rocketed up in front of Flint, snatching the Quaffle from his possession as the sudden whoosh of black fabric in front of his eyes disoriented him. By the time he recovered, Bruce was already halfway down the field, completely unchallenged by the other two Chasers, who were still being hit around by Angelina and Alicia.
"STOP HIM!" the Slytherin captain screamed, but it was already too late. Even as they gave chase to the Dark Knight, Flint realized it was hopeless. Bruce had already gotten too much of a head start. They would never catch up to him in time. He just had to hope that Bletchly would be able to stop him from scoring until they got there.
Bletchly hovered in front of the Slytherin goal posts determinedly as Batman came rocketing towards him. He wasn't going to let this stupid Muggle score on him again and make him look like a fool. He'd show him.
But as the Caped Crusader came closer, the Slytherin Keeper found himself looking at something completely unexpected. Batman wasn't sitting on his broom, he was standing on it!
And indeed he was. Balanced perfectly on the small rod of wood, Bruce rode the flying broomstick like a surfer, knees bent, coming up on the goal posts fast, the Quaffle still kept safely wrapped in his right arm. A smile he couldn't seem to wipe away was plastered to his face. This was, most certainly, the highlight of his week.
As he came within throwing distance, Batman kept the Comet facing the middle hoop and stopped, hovering in midair, before he did something no Chaser should ever do.
He threw the Quaffle straight up in the air.
Bletchly watched in amazement as Batman threw the reddish sphere straight up into the air, spiraling like some demented bird in the sunlight. And then his eyes bugged as he saw Bruce catapult himself up after it, body moving gracefully as he easily and deftly did half a back flip, knees in to his chest and butt straight up to the sky, cape flying madly around him. Then, as if in slow motion, he extended one of his legs and kicked the now falling Quaffle square in the middle, shooting it perfectly through the right hoop.
Bletchley didn't even dive for it.
And then Batman started to fall, positioning himself feet first, hands out at the ready as he grabbed onto the handle of his stationary broom, swinging underneath it and bringing himself back up onto the thin rod in one swift movement.
The crowd was shocked into silence. No one had ever scored like that before. Even Lee Jordan seemed lost for words.
"Witches and wizards," he said finally, voice hoarse. "I think we've just witnessed the first ever goal in Qudditch history scored by a backflip kick."
He paused for dramatic effect. "Leaving the score seventy-seventy!" he suddenly exploded. "The game is tied!"
The effect was immediate. The crowd erupted into applause, all the houses except for Slytherin clapping as Batman flew back to take up his position by the Gryffindor goal posts for the resume of the game.
Except he never made it back. A sudden flash of gold and scarlet rocketed before Batman's eyes as Harry sped by him, following a small bright gold ball flying at incredible speeds.
It took a moment for Lee to figure out what was going on. "And Harry Potter has seen the Snitch!" he gasped, hurrying to cover the occurrence as the Slytherin Seeker raced after the first year, following the barely-visible gold sphere. "This could be then end of the game, here, folks! And the score is tied! The winner might be in the balance!"
Batman watched Harry speed after the Golden Snitch, silently urging him on as the Slytherin Seeker pulled up just behind him, also aiming to grab the tiny ball and win the game.
"Batman!" Alicia yelled, and Bruce looked up to see Flint racing down the field with the Quaffle towards the Gryffindor goal. Apparently, the Slytherin captain wasn't going to wait around for the Snitch to be caught.
Tightening his grip on the broom handle, Batman sped off towards Flint. He was completely confident that Harry could capture the Snitch. He'd seen him grab the Remembrall out of the air just the other day like a pro. All he had to do was keep the Slytherins from scoring, and let the Seekers do their job.
And that's exactly what he was going to do.
"It's all on you now, Harry," he murmured to himself.
~O~
Harry was diving, the wind moaning as he accelerated downward, all his concentration and focus directed at the little round gold ball that was speeding away from him about a foot away from his face, just out of reach. He was conscious of the Slytherin Seeker behind him, trying desperately to get in front of him with no success, and was also conscious of how close the ground was coming at him. A sliver of doubt ran through him. Could he pull out after a dive like this, so close to the ground?
But he couldn't give up now. The Snitch was there, right there. He needed to catch it. They had to win the game!
Suddenly, the Slytherin Seeker swerved away; unable to follow him downward, obviously worried about not being able to level out without hitting the ground as well. But Harry kept going, green eyes locked on the flying sphere. It was there…
And then suddenly, it was not there.
And then Harry was swerving upward, just barely managing to fly up without the tip of his broom crashing into the clean-cut grass, chocking madly.
Leveling out ten feet off the ground, he gagged and a small, very wet Golden Snitch fell out onto his palm.
It took at least a minute for the crowd—and Harry—to register what had happened.
He had caught the Snitch!
"I've got the Snitch!" he yelled, waving the small golden ball with sodden wings in the air triumphantly.
The confused crowd burst into cheers, since this must mean that the game was over, but nobody had ever seen the Snitch caught in such a way, or a point scored such as Batman had scored it, either. But nevertheless, Madam Hooch blew her whistle as Harry held up the ball in proof. Gryffindor had won!
"And an amazing end to the first match of the season!" Lee shouted happily, clearly jumping up and down with joy. "Harry Potter catches—er, swallows—the Snitch, ending the game and making it a Gryffindor victory with a score of two-hundred and twenty to seventy! I'm Lee Jordan and this—this is definitely a game to remember!"
Cheers of celebration broke out. The points earned from the match had put Gryffindor in the lead for the House Cup!
And then the Gryffindor team touched down on the pitch and were mobbed by students. Batman found kids surrounding him, congratulating him, giving him slaps on the back, tugging and stepping on his cape to get a good look at him. It was incredibly awkward, and Bruce felt his face burning with the uncontrollable urge to get out of there. But that just didn't seem possible.
Somehow, Harry found his way over to him. "You did amazing!" he congratulated the Dark Knight. "I haven't seen anything like it!"
Bruce smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said modestly. "And nice catch by the way."
Harry grimaced. "Not really," he said. "It tasted horrible!"
It was a comment meant for laughs, but Batman didn't laugh.
Harry's smile faltered slightly.
~O~
Batman found himself with the uncontrollable urge to laugh, to chuckle at the obviously funny comment, but he squashed down as quickly as he felt it. No. He might have succumbed to the boy's wishes and played Qudditch, but he wasn't going to give into him just yet. The decision of whether to embrace or shun Harry Potter was still yet to be made, and now was not the time for it.
Harry smile faltered as his joke was met with stony silence, and Batman could see disappointment in his eyes. "I'll see you back in the Common Room," he said, glancing sideways at him, all traces of his previous happiness gone. "I need to put my Nimbus away."
Then he was gone, lost in the crowd.
And Batman felt a wash of regret flow through him, sucking all the joy he'd been feeling right out of his body in the time it took for him to blink.
~O~
Back in the Common Room, Batman still found himself swamped by students wanting to talk to him and congratulate him. Bruce already had a headache from it all, and it was taking all his mental power not to snap at the eager first years asking for his autograph.
It was already fairly late, but the victory party for the win of the match seemed to be prepared to go all night, and none of the students seemed anywhere near ready to hit the hay.
The thought was horrifying to Batman.
Trying to separate himself from the gaggle of Gryffindor's, Bruce spotted Harry talking to Hermione. Distracting his fans by throwing a well-aimed Batarang in the air and embedding it in the ceiling, he managed to retreat to the shadows, turning himself invisible.
Ignoring everyone else, Batman expertly maneuvered through the dark spots of the crowded room until he was just to the left of Harry and Hermione, completely unnoticeable in a shadowy corner.
"It was like he was there and then…he was gone," Harry was saying, his voice sounding lost and confused. "I was talking to him, and he was looking at me, listening, and then he went all…cold. It was like he changed from one person to another in a split second. From the Batman I've started to get to know, to the one I thought he was when I first met him. From the semi-nice one to the cold and silent one."
Bruce grimaced silently. He had a sinking feeling his conflicting feelings for Harry hadn't gone completely unnoticed.
Hermione was nodding in agreement. "I know what you mean," she sighed. "It's like he can't decide which one to be around us. Nice enough to hold a conversation with, or cold, silent and someone you want to stay clear of. Frankly, I'm surprised he's opened up to us at all, and I'm still not sure why he has. Something about you, Harry. It's something about you that makes him act differently."
"You think?" Harry said, clearly surprised. He thought about it for a moment. "Then why did he go all cold when I was talking to him today, then?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure," she said. She considered it for a moment. "I think he might be just starting to realize how he's acting. And his nature is to pull back and stop, but for whatever reason he still wants to connect with you. So he keeps going back and forth, and he can't make a decision on which he wants: nice or mean. Silent or conversational…well, semi conversational, but you know what I mean."
Harry nodded. "I think you're right, he said, his tone more understanding.
Hermione smiled kindly. "Just…be careful, Harry," she said softly. "Don't get too attached. And don't be surprised if he…closes up on you. Remember, we don't know much about him. And from what we've both gathered, I don't think he's much of a social person, and he's already said outright that he has no love for magic. So prepare yourself in case he…well, shuns you because you're a wizard."
Harry nodded. "Yeah," he whispered sadly. "Thanks Hermione. I appreciate all this. I…needed someone who could help make sense of it all."
Hermione nodded in understanding. "I'm always here if you need me," she said. "Are you going to come back to the party?"
Harry shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired."
Hermione smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest," she said. "You deserve it."
Harry nodded and headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Hermione hovered at the bottom of the staircase for a moment, before heading back into the mob of students to find Ron.
Batman stayed in the corner for a little while, standing still as a statue, digesting what he had just overheard.
What Hermione had said about him was spot on. He was having conflicting thoughts about Harry, and he was suddenly conscious of how almost out of character he was behaving towards the eleven-year-old wizard. And she was right that there was something about Harry that drew him: the aspect that both their parents had been murdered before their eyes at an incredible young age, scarring them both forever.
And she was right about how he kept switching from semi-nice and inviting to completely silent and scary.
Something about Harry and Hermione observing this bothered Bruce. Somehow, he knew that if he didn't make the decision of whether to accept Harry or not, than Harry was eventually going to get fed up with Batman's silence and make the decision for him. Despite how conflicted he was on the subject, Bruce didn't want that. For some reason, he felt that he needed to make this decision on his own.
Sadness and frustration clouding his brain, Batman strode out of the shadows and joined Ron and Hermione over by the fire, staying just within their sights at the edge of the big shadow the fireplace casted. They made no move to talk with him, and although he thought this might be a sign that Hermione had shared her thoughts about him to Ron, he was grateful to them. He needed to clear his mind with some silent meditation.
But he never got the chance to. At that moment, Harry came bolting back down the stairs, face ashen, and rocketed over to Ron and Hermione, pushing his way through the crowd. Both of them looked alarmed at the expression on his face. "What's wrong?" Batman asked worriedly, coming out of the shadows and striding up to Harry. Something had upset the wizard, that was for sure.
"It's my Nimbus 2000!" he moaned. "It's gone!"
"WHAT?" Ron roared in disbelief, but Batman was already gone, pushing past Harry and causing the crowd to part as he ran towards the boys' dormitory and disappeared up the steps.
As he charged into Harry's dormitory, a mess with clothes, books and other assorted items in Harry's frantic search to find his broom, Batman went straight for the window. He was just in time to see a female figure, dressed in a skin-tight black outfit racing across the battlements, a broomstick held in one hand and a white marble statue in the other. With deft movements, she jump down to the grass and disappeared into the night.