Chapter I
31st July,1991
Harry jumped out of bed as the sunlight lit across his face. He put on his glasses and ran down the stairs to the dining room, still wearing his pajamas. Already sitting at the table, eating breakfast were most of Harry's adopted family. His guardian, Bruce Wayne, sat at the head of the table, already dressed in suit & tie. He drank some coffee as he read the morning's edition of The Daily Planet. His older "brothers", Tim Drake and Damian Wayne were both sitting across from each other eating bowls of oatmeal, Tim was drinking coffee, and Damian a cup of orange juice. Tim was messing around with a laptop computer, while Damian would occasionally rub his pet cat between the ears.
"Good morning, Master Harry," Alfred said entering through the kitchen door, "And Happy Birthday, would you like a bowl of oatmeal this morning, or should I make you something else?"
"Good morning, Alfred, oatmeal's fine thank you."
"Happy Birthday, Harry," Bruce said putting down his paper.
"Thanks."
"Happy Birthday, Harry," Tim said, glancing up briefly from his computer.
"Yes, I suppose congratulations are an order, being as you've survived another year," Damian drawled monotonously.
Alfred returned with his breakfast and a glass of orange juice, "You have several cards waiting for you, Master Harry, but may I suggest you refrain from opening them until this evening along with the rest of your gifts?"
"This evening?"
"Dick, Barbara, and maybe Jason said they would try be here to celebrate then, plus I have a meeting with Lexcorp this morning, and those always take long," Bruce answered.
"Todd is coming?" Damian asked.
"Hopefully."
"Not," Tim mumbled under his breath, which Bruce ignored.
"What time will they be here?" asked Harry, excited at the prospect of celebrating with the two oldest of his adopted brothers and the girl who acted as an older sister.
"Around 5:30."
"Okay, I can wait until then."
"Good, until then, you three behave yourselves."
Harry was shooting hoops out back of the manor, with Damian. The older boy was faster, and quite a bit more athletic, not to mention competitive to an extreme, but Harry still managed to do well, throwing the ball through the hoop seemed to come naturally. Damian caught the rebound and paused as he stared at the sky.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"There's a bird flying directly towards us."
"There's nothing odd about that."
"There is if it's a nocturnal species and is caring something."
Harry looked in the same direction as Damian. He didn't see anything at first, but once he caught sight of it, there was no mistaking it. It was an owl, heading their way, with something in its talons.
He reached them quickly, deposited something at Harry's feet, and flew away without breaking its glide.
Damian reached down and grabbed it up before Harry could.
"It's a letter."
"From whom?"
"I don't know, but it's addressed to you."
"To me?"
"See for yourself."
Sure enough, there was his name hand written in green ink calligraphy
Harry James Potter
Turning it over in his hands he saw a crest stamped into the wax seal.
"This looks really important," Harry said.
"It looks conspicuously dubious," Damian replied.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be a fool, Potter, regular mail, important or un, is not delivered by nocturnal fowl period, especially at high noon."
"What do you think I should do then?"
"Give it to me, I'll put it some place safe until Father gets home, then we'll ask him, but until then I deem it unsafe."
"Don't be ridiculous, Damian, it's just a letter."
"If it were just a letter, it would have been delivered by the postman between 10:28 & 10:43 A.M. This is not that and should be treated as dangerous until proven otherwise."
"You're overreacting–hey give it to me!"
Damian took the letter and ran off towards the manor. Harry gave chase, but the older boy quickly evaded him and disappeared. He returned looking smugger than usual, if that were possible.
As the afternoon progressed, Harry found himself wondering about the strange letter constantly. He spent quite a bit of time searching for where Damian had hidden it. Damian caught him in his room searching for it in his desk, which had led to them in a fight ultimately being broken up by Tim, but only after they had each taken a couple hits, Harry more than Damian. Alfred scolded them, not caring if it was Harry's birthday, and assigned each of them chores to do in separate parts of the mansion until Bruce came home as punishment.
Despite it being a punishment, Harry couldn't help but think about how much more he preferred doing chores here than when he had lived with the Dursleys. Here the chores were because he was in trouble for fighting, most often with Damian, or something else equally punishable, not simply because he was a freak.
That was another thing, no one ever called him a "freak" here. There was one time, just after Bruce had taken custody of Harry, that he had accidently broken an antique vase in the hallway. He was so scared that the Billionaire would be furious at him that he was seriously shaking as the man walked towards him. He saw Bruce's eyes raise in slight surprise, when he turned around he saw that the vase was in one piece and sitting on the stand. Tim muttered, "freaky" under his breath. When Harry heard that, he ran up to his room angry at himself for displaying his freakishness in his new home. He sat in fear of what they would make him do, now that they knew, until Bruce came and nocked on his door and asked what the matter was.
Harry told him how he was a freak, that his aunt and uncle had punished him because of it, and that he was sorry he didn't tell Bruce that before the man adopted him and that he understood if Bruce wanted to punish him too. But Bruce would hear none of it, Harry would never forget how it felt when Bruce hugged him and told him no matter what, he was not a freak. Harry later overheard Bruce retelling everything to Alfred, and the butler saying, "compared to the rest of the family, I'd say Master Harry is the least freakish of the lot." Harry never figured out what he meant by that. He did know that they almost never did anything together after eight o'clock at night. Bruce strictly enforced the bedtime rule, except for rare occasions like when there was a party at the manor.
Harry did admit, the family was slightly dysfunctional. First off that the only person who ever mentioned a mother was Damian, and even that seemed to be a taboo. Secondly, the older boys all seemed to fight with each other quite a bit. Damian was often at the center of the fray, but sometimes it was between the other ones, especially Jason and Tim. Jason was another oddity. He hardly ever came to visit, in the time Harry had lived at Wayne Manor, he visited a total of three times: Harry's adoption, Easter, and briefly on Fathers' Day to give a card to Bruce. On those occasions, he was only nice to Harry, Bruce was often glaring at him, and Alfred constantly reprimanded him for his language. The nicknames the older boys had for each other were strange too. They all called Dick "Bigbird" or "Golden Boy," Jason was "Jaybird," Tim was called "Babybird," or "Replacement" by Jason, and Damian was "Demon Spawn" or "Baby Bat." They had taken to calling Harry "Wingless," whatever that meant.
Despite the quirks, Harry realized that they were a family, more importantly, they were his family, sure he had only been here less than a year, but he already felt more belonging than he ever had with the Dursleys.
"Master Harry, Master Bruce has returned, Master Dick just arrived, Miss Gordon has been here for a few moments, and Master Jason should hopefully be here within the hour. Once you've finished with that mirror, it may be a good time to come to the parlor."
"I'll be right there, Alfred."
Harry finished quickly and ran to the parlor. He slid down the railing on the staircase and dropped directly in front of the doors.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Harry jumped, at the scolding and turned around. Jason was walking through the foyer. The rouge Wayne brother was wearing his leather jacket, combat boots, and cargo pants.
"Jason!" Harry ran a gave his brother a hug, Jason tensed like he did every time Harry showed physical affection.
"Happy B-Day, Kido."
"Thanks for coming, Bruce convinced me to wait to open any presents until you and Dick got here.
"What do you know, Bruce can be considerate after all."
They walked into the parlor together and saw the rest of the family already there. A stack of presents sat on a coffee table in the center of the room, Bruce was talking to Dick, and Barbara with Alfred, Tim was on his computer, and Damian sat on a chat stroking his cat's ears.
"Happy Birthday, Wingless!" Dick said when he saw Harry.
"Thanks Dick.
"Shall we be opening gifts before or after supper, Sir?" Alfred asked Bruce.
Bruce looked at his youngest, "I think Harry's waited long enough, Alfred, let's let him open his gifts now, then we'll eat."
"Alright, Demon Spawn, help bring the gifts over," Dick directed Damian.
"I'm not a servant, Grayson."
"Neither are Alfred or I, so come help."
Damian rolled his eyes as he stalked over to help them.
Harry sat himself down on one of the couches next to Tim who put aside his computer. Dick sat down on his other side as the presents were set before him, Jason stood off in the corner next to Barbara. Damian sat back into his previous chair, and Bruce stood resting his arm on the hearth.
"What are you waiting for? Open them up, Harry," Dick said.
Harry picked up a package and tore into it revealing a book on the history of the British Empire.
"That's from me, Wingless," Tim said, "I read it before I wrapped it, it's pretty interesting."
"Thanks, Tim," Harry enjoyed things that concerned England. He opened another one, this one long and thin, a wooden bokken fell into his lap.
"I decided you're old enough now that you could learn how to use one," Damian said nonchalantly.
Harry smiled at the older boy. He knew Damian took karate and knew how to use these kinds of things, "Will you teach me how to use it?"
"I suppose. It would be a waste if you had one and never learned to use it properly.
Harry opened a bag with Dick's handwriting on the tag. It was a baseball mitt.
"Thanks, Dick."
"I figure it's about time you got officially Americanized and learn to throw a baseball."
"I say so," Jason said from where he stood, "I can't believe they've let you go this long without learning to play catch."
"Like you'd be the one to teach him, Todd," Damian articulated.
"I could do a fair better job at that than you at teaching him to use that sword, Demon Spawn."
"Enough!" Bruce's voice caught the attention of everyone in the room, "Harry, I believe there are a couple more gifts to be unwrapped."
"Oh, right!" Harry proceeded to discover the contents of his remaining presents. Alfred gave him a book on King Arthur. Bruce's gifts consisted of, a remote helicopter drone, and the latest super soaker.
"Wait, Harry gets a super soaker?" Dick exclaimed.
"Can we say newest kid?" Tim grumbled.
"Thank you, Bruce!" Harry smiled at his guardian, he knew Bruce wasn't big on hugs, otherwise he would have hugged him.
"Oi, you got one left, Bucko."
"Plus all the cards!"
Harry picked up a package wrapped in newspaper funnies, two packs of Baseball Trading cards fell out onto his lap.
"Thanks, Jason!"
"Start off your collection, Wingless."
"Another collection of baseball cards in the family?" Alfred said, "do take care not to leave yours lying about, Master Harry, I'm sorry to admit I'm not well kept on which cards belong to which boy."
"I promise, Alfred," Harry gave the butter a reassuring smile. He pulled the stack of cards his way and opened them. One was from Barbara with a movie gift certificate and the promise to take him. One was from the Wayne Enterprises staff, it was generic, but signatures took up the entire card. the last one was from his homeroom teacher.
"Master Bruce, supper is waiting in the kitchen. I prepared Master Harry's favorite: spaghetti and meatballs."
Nearly all the heads in the room picked up at the mention of food. Bruce gazed over the boys before making eye contact with Alfred.
"If I said no, Alfred, there might be a mutiny on our hands."
"Quite right, Sir."
"More like a scene from the French Revolution," Tim muttered under his breath.
Dinner was delicious, per usual, and Alfred outdid himself on the cake. Layers of chocolate cake and icing smothered in a rich frosting. After cake, Dick, Jason, and Barbara all left after wishing Harry happy birthday again. Harry convinced Tim to teach him the ins and outs of baseball card collecting before he went to bed, to which the older boy reluctantly agreed. Bruce stayed in the parlor figuring to read a book for a couple of hours. As he sat down in one of the wingback chairs, he noticed Damian standing in front of him.
"What is it, Damian?"
The young boy extended an envelope.
"What's this?"
"It was delivered to Potter this afternoon…by an owl."
Bruce looked at his son coldly, "I'm not in the mood for games, Damian."
"It's not a jest, Father. It happened while we were playing basketball. A Great-horned owl flew by and dropped this at his feet."
Bruce turned the letter over to see the wax seal on the back.
"Hogwarts. Draco Dormiens Numquam Titillandus; never tickle a sleeping dragon."
"Could it be from the Court?"
"No, this isn't their seal, nor their motto."
"A new threat then?"
"I need to look inside to know for certain. Tell Tim you two have patrol tonight; I need to look into this."
Damian nodded and walked out of the parlor. Bruce followed as far as his study then ducked into a secret passageway. Once in the Batcave, Bruce walked over to a microscope. Nothing appeared on the envelope other than confirm it was made of a parchment rather than paper. Careful not to damage the seal, he opened the letter and produced its contents. Two pieces of parchment fell out. Upon unfolding them, he discovered they were handwritten by quill in green iron gall ink. The script was that of a woman's presumably middle aged, from Europe, if the spelling and grammatical structure was anything to go off.
He read the letter, addressed to Harry by name so that ruled out miss-delivery, not that he thought it was. Bruce reread it four times. Once under ultraviolet light, another under infrared, a third time adjusting the light through the entire light spectrum, and a fourth time under heat; he discovered nothing new under any of these methods. Bruce sighed, his next option was to figure out if the letters content was legitimate or not. He read the heading again: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He needed to know if such a place existed, to find that out, he knew one person to ask.