AN:/Once again, not terribly exciting, but you know, Plot, so that has to happen. i promise i have more exiting things planned eventually. I'm still on the fence about having anyone besides Batman arrive at Hogwarts, So if you would like anyone specific to appear make your case and you might convince me to make it happen. I am however, very stuborn in the matters of batman, so make your case a good one. Hopefully you guys don't think these chapters are becoming a little too disjointed, I feel like the train is jumping tracks a little as I try to make the story a little more coherent. Any suggestions, let me know.

Batman Doesn't 'Do' Magic

Chapter 12

by:deadlydaisy8o8

Originally Uploaded: Sunday, August 10, 2014, 4:53PM

With the assistance of the map, Batman had had a tolerable day attending his 'classes'. While he disliked relying on the map, in any capacity, he was not so proud that he could not recognize the map for what it was, a tool to help him keep away from the rest of the student population as much as possible. This wasn't to say that Batman couldn't do this without the help of the magical map, but that its use made evasion of any unwanted encounters infinitely easier.

So for once, classes had gone by relatively without a hiccup. He was present when necessary, but otherwise, kept to the darkness and out of sight. When the end of the day arrived, it was finally time for Batman to start setting up for the investigation he would be doing in the Gryphindor Boys dormitory.

Batman waited for dark to come at the edge of the forbidden forest. He did not want to have to sneak all the way from the dungeons to the tower in the dead of night. No one was about to check to make sure Batman was in his assigned living space, and if they were, Batman would be able to check the magical map regularly to see if anyone was approaching.

As Batman waited for dusk to fall, he hauled himself up into the canopy of the towering trees and observed his targets on the map as they readied themselves for bed. One by one, he watched as the boys moved to their beds and the corresponding lights by their windows would go out. Batman waited for an hour after all of the lights for the entire tower, not just the level he would be infiltrating, had gone out before he packed the map away and started to move towards the base of the tower.

The grapple gun, when reduced to a gas propellant, was rated to shoot a hook one hundred and twenty three vertical feet. The electronic function of the gun more than tripled that height, and it was why Batman had long ago switched to electronic propulsion and retraction. Along with being able to grapple higher, he would not need to climb up the tether himself, rather be quickly reeled in. This was not going to be the case in this instance.

It was fortunate that the level of the castle Batman wished access looked to be no more than eighty feet tall. The map indicated it was the seventh floor. This also meant that Batman would not have terribly far to climb. Batman took the grapple from his belt, but instead of aiming upwards, he smacked the butt of the gun against his palm, causing a slat to slide downward and a set of carabineers to fall out with a soft 'clink'. He held the carabineers in his fist as he aimed the gun for a windowsill one above where he would enter and fired.

Due to countless nights of practice the hook hit its mark and settled into a sturdy crevice in the sill with a short 'clank'. Batman waited a full minute for someone to decide to come to the widow where he had fired the hook, but no lights turned on and a quick glance at the map saw no movement. The carabineers were quickly clamped onto the line, and then to a concealed loop in his chest armor before Batman lifted his feet off the ground and began his ascent.

It was not long before Batman reached his target. He had climbed up the wall to the side of the window before slowly peering over to get a better look at the window. At worst Batman was expecting iron bars and reinforced glass. In which case he had made sure to bring a full bottle of acid, ammounting to about four tablespoons that he kept for emergencies. This however was not the case. There was ironwork in the windows but not in a way that would prevent him from getting in. The windows were set on heavy iron hinges and they were not secured shut with locks so much as latches. Batman had prepared for the best scenario as well.

Next to the bottle of acid was a bottle of lubricant. Batman gingerly took this bottle from his belt and liberally oiled every point of metal on metal contact that he could access. It was entirely possible that the window had not been opened in over a hundred years, in that case a little W-D40 was not going to make much of a difference, but regardless Batman was not taking any chances. After that task was done, he shimmed to the side out of sight and waited five minutes for the oil to creep into all of the little cracks and crevasses.

While Batman waited he pulled his foot up behind him and pulled the magnet out of the heal of his right boot. When enough time had passed, Batman moved back over to the window and slowly started to bring the powerful magnet closer to the window where the latch was visible on the other side. When Batman felt there was enough pull on the magnet in his hand he slowly moved the magnet up and to the side, causing the only piece of lose metal, the bar keeping the window shut, to move up and over with it. When the latch was undone Batman slowly moved the magnet away setting the loose bar to rest without noise before quickly stuffing the magnet back into the sole of his shoe. Now that the windows were free of constraint, when Batman had pulled the magnet away, the windows had swung outwards slightly with it. Batman moved to the side of the window once more to let anyone decide if the change in air temperature or humidity was going to cause them to wake up. After another five minutes Batman moved back.

The oil Batman had applied did its job and the windows were completely silent. Batman unhooked the carabineers from his chest and let them sit on the windowsill until he returned. He took out the map once more and now moved until he was directly on top of the name Peter Pettigrew.

Batman found himself looking at the image of an overweight balding rat, sitting in a cage at the foot of Ronald Weasley's bed. If Batman were looking at this from the most obvious standpoint, it would be that Ron Weasley had named his pet rat Peter Pettigrew for whatever unnamable reason, and his entire trip had been for naught. However Batman was a Parent, a parent of more than a few sons and knew that the likely hood that a boy, at any age, would name a rat Peter Pettigrew was slim to none.

Batman retreated to a shadowy corner of the room to think. First he recalled what he knew about rats. They were hardy creatures, could survive near anywhere, very clever, and were chiefly nocturnal. Batman narrowed his eyes at the rat sleeping soundly at this hour of the night.

It was entirely possible that the rat was some magical variety. Batman racked his memory and tried to remember if he had seen anything about rats when he had been researching hippogrphs and thestrals, perhaps having been mentioned as something the animals would eat. He paused when a throwaway comment from the half giant made its way to the forefront of his brain.

"Nonsense, I'm sure the headmaster won't mind. The Weasley's have been allowed their pet rat for the past eleven years. Ugly little bugger. Percy brought 'im to me once when he had a case of the flu. Strange thing for a rat to catch, but there you go."

A rat that was at least eleven years old? It was either magical in some capacity or the parents had kept their children ignorant for a number of years by replacing the pet when it passed. Batman might have been more inclined to believe that the parents were replacing the rat if it were not for the second part of Hagrid's comment. Rats had extremely efficient immune systems. They had carried the plague and not been effected by it themselves. As far as Batman was aware it was very rare for a rat to catch something like the flu, especially one meant for humans. Hagrid himself, the resident expert on magical creatures, had indeed remarked that the rats ailment was strange and this leant itself towards further exposition of the rat in question.

Based upon the research Batman had done on various magical creatures and plants thus far, which was sparse and unreliable Batman would admit, the rat should have some defining feature about it that made it obvious it was magical in some capacity. If the rat was indeed magical it was very likely that it should have something obviously magical about it.

As Batman moved towards the rats cage once more, his gaze drifted, and when he looked up he was met with a very large very open pair of pale blue eyes. Batman halted in his movements, his breathing slowed while his heart raced. This boy, sleeping third from the left, could ruin his entire reconnaissance by simply speaking. The two looked at each other for a long moment, Batman evaluating the boy's intentions and the boy attempting to do the same. Batman could see fear and uncertainty in the boy's eyes, he was clearly attempting to figure if it would be safer to speak up, or to stay silent. Batman was in a similar position, attempting to judge whether he would need to make a quick exit, or if he should wait to see the boys next move.

Finally the faintest of breezes drifted its way in from the open window, the stir in the air caused the curtains around the beds and windows to shift and allow a brief flicker of moonlight in through the heavy glass. The light was a brief flicker of a glow, but it was enough. Batman recognized the contours of the boys face, and the boy recognized the silhouette of the man's cowl. The fear and uncertainty disappeared from Neville Longbottom eyes, and instead trust was shone there. At seeing the anxiety vanish, Batman's posture relaxed ever so slightly.

No longer in danger of the boy deciding to wake up his dorm mates, Batman waited for the boy to make the next move. He would need to decide if he could continue his recon mission, or if he would need to abandon it if the boy refused to go back to sleep. When Batman didn't move, a question appeared in the boy's eyes. Batman saw this and slowly shook his head once left and once right. There was disappointment and resignation, but not defiance. The boy nodded his head once before he pointedly closed his eyes and rolled over.

Batman remained motionless until he watched the rise and fall of the boys covers even out and heard a light regular wheeze coming from his bed. Batman shoved all of the thoughts on the boys actions to the back of his head to address later, right now he was to focus on the opportunity that the boy had decided to provide him. He moved closer to the rat's cage once more.

The rat was repugnant. It was balding in awkward places and its skin was wrinkling near its tail, the rat was sprawled out in the cage rather than curled into a tight ball like he had seen most rats prefer. Batman narrowed his eyes as the rat's tail twitched. Everything about the way this rat behaved was very off, but without some concrete proof, the rat could only be proven to be exceptionally strange and nothing more. Batman moved closer still until his face was nearly press against the cage, determined to find some concrete truth one way or the other.

But as far as Batman could see, the only thing physically strange about this particular rat, beyond its supposed age and peculiar ugliness, was that it was missing a toe on its front left paw. It was indeed a striking coincidence that this rat, whose name was supposedly Peter Pettigrew, was missing the same appendage that the murdered wizard Peter Pettigrew of thirteen years previous had left behind. A scowl appeared on Batman's face, his eyes narrowed as several tumblers clicked into place within his head.

It was a good thing that Batman did not believe in coincidences.

Batman's hard gaze never left the vermin as he administered two drops of oil to the hinges of the cage, and then slowly and silently undid the latch. Batman scowled when he realized his gauntlets would not fit through the opening. Patiently, Batman removed his right glove and reached for the small capsule of knockout gas he kept in his belt. He maneuvered his fist into the cage without touching anything and while leaning away himself, crushed the capsule in front of the rat's face. Batman waited a few moments before he prodded the rodents limp form, when there was no reaction, Batman didn't hesitate to scoop the rat out of the cage and lay it on the floor beside him while he put his glove back on and the spent capsule back in his belt. Batman had tested his knockout gas on the rats that infested the Batcave before he had moved to human test subjects, the gas would not harm the rat, even if there happened to be nothing outstanding about it.

Replacing the cage door and redoing the latch, Batman now had the pleasure of repelling back down the tower, back to his own rooms one handed. As silently as he had entered, he exited the window, shut the glass, and re-locked the windows with the magnet of his boot, laying the rat on the sill as he did so, before picking the pest back up and sliding down the tower wall. When he reached the bottom a practiced flick of the cable in his hands dislodged the claw from the windowsill and sent it flying away from the tower to land in the grass with a heavy thunk. Batman collected the long cable before he took out the map once more and made his way back to his rooms. He had approximately thirty minutes to build a suitable cage for his captive before he could figure out how to interrogate a rat, let alone prove that it was the animaigus he suspected it to be.

The tracer Batman had left on Neville's wand, no bigger than a grain of rice, and near completely useless within the magical environment, would not be discovered until the boy's first class the next day when he felt an unusual bat-shaped bump at the end of his wand. It was a tiny gesture, but it was enough. Neville only smiled a small smile and left the small pin like shape on the end of his wand handle so he would not loose it in his infamously unreliable pockets.