Notes:

This chapter was edited a fair amount. I'm very proud of how it has changed, but I wanted to ask what you guys think? Anything better? Anything worse? I really liked the old chapter, but I just wanted this one to be a bit better. Edited versions of all the chapters should be coming out pretty soon.

6/10/18


July 20th

Bruce had banished him to his room. Which was completely unfair. So he missed a single bomb. It hadn't hurt anyone and he hadn't been anywhere near it when it went off. For goodness sake, it was under the dock. Yeah, he would acknowledge that is wasn't exactly good he missed it. Someone could have gotten hurt. But the point was no one did get hurt. He felt really guilty, yeah, but he a mistake. In his line of work that was dangerous. People learn from their mistakes though, and now he wouldn't ever forget to check under the docks. He wouldn't miss a bomb next time.

Dick propped himself into a sitting position on his bed and scrunched his face up. How sad was it that when he thought about bombs, there was always a 'next time'? Really, that didn't give him a lot of points for sanity. Because what normal person ran towards bombs? Towards danger? Towards death?

Well, Bruce did. He did, as he's already noted. But then again, he and Bruce weren't exactly the perfect pictures of mental health, were they? Hello, repressed childhood trauma. Bruce went around dressed like a flying rodent. If that wasn't a sign of questionable mental capabilities, then Dick didn't know what was.

He honestly wasn't sure how good it was that he'd determined - during his grounding of all things - that he and his guardian were lacking something, either sanity of basic self-preservation instincts. Probably both, if he was being honest, and honestly was something he prided himself on, at least when it didn't have anything to do with his dual-identity as Robin and Dick Grayson. There was always a bit of stretching the truth involved to keep his secret identity secret.

But he digressed. What was really, truly, honestly the worst part about being grounded was that he was stuck in his room and hadn't been able to sneak out to spy on the person that rang the doorbell a few hours ago. They didn't exactly get many visitors to the Manor unless they were hosting some dumb charity ball. It was always interesting to see who would be coming to see them in middle of the day. Plus, Dick liked to know what was going on. And of course, the first time anyone's come to the Manor during the day in months was the week he was grounded. He couldn't just sneak out. He may be Robin, but Bruce was Batman and Alfred was Alfred. Alfred would find out because Alfred knew everything that happened inside the walls of the Manor and sometimes outside.

Long story short, Dick wasn't going to find out what was going on with their guest that was still here three hours later until dinner tonight. To say he was surprised when a sharp knock sounded from behind his door would be an understatement.

He hopped off his bed and rushed to the door with all the grace his acrobatic and aerialist past gave him. That is to say, he tripped over his own feet and flew into the door headfirst. Dick rubbed his head grudgingly with one of his hands and opened the door with the other.

"Hey, Alfred," he said sheepishly. The butler leveled him with an unimpressed look. Dick removed his hand from his head and awkwardly waved. "So, you heard that, huh?"

"Master Dick, I believe that even our guests downstairs heard that," Alfred said sternly.

Dick chuckled to hide his wince from Alfred's reprimand. "Here, sorry, Alfie. I'll be more careful next time."

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," Alfred drawled, but underneath the exasperation, Dick could see a glimmer of amusement sparkling in his eyes. "But for now, I'll take you at your word, Master Dick."

"So that means…" Dick began suggestively.

"Master Bruce doesn't have to hear about this," Alfred confirmed.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief. If Bruce had seen or heard that, Dick shuddered to imagine what he might have had to go through. Probably balance training of some sort. It would be torture and completely embarrassing. He was a trained acrobat. Bruce was, and Dick mean absolutely no offense when he said this, not. Sure, he could do the whole 'I am the night, I will disappear into the shadows and confuse all' thing, but he was still much more likely to trip than Dick, not that he'd ever admit it. Dick was pretty sure that was only because it'd ruin Batman's image.

"That's good. I don't think I could handle any more punishment," Dick joked.

Alfred's lips twitched, but he maintained his professional manner.

"So, why did you come to get me?" Dick asked curiously.

"Master Bruce sent me up to fetch you."

"What does he need?" Dick asked, tilting his head. There had to be a good reason, and it had to do with their guests, not guest, apparently. "I thought I was grounded."

"I'm not sure, but I believe it has something to do with the two gentlemen he's meeting with in his study." And bingo. "As for your grounding, Master Bruce seems to have forgotten about it for the moment."

Dick considered this. It wasn't like Bruce to just forget when he was grounded. Whatever was going on with their guests must be important.

"What are they talking to Bruce about that was so important they couldn't wait to set up a meeting at the WI building?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Though it sounded quite urgent."

Did Alfred mean urgent or urgent? There was a difference. And it was a pretty big difference. Was Bruce in danger and couldn't get away so he was telling Dick to hurry downstairs so he could save him? Or were the two men from social services on their annual surprise check on his wellbeing? There was an innumerable amount of reasons Bruce might need him to forget about the grounding, but which one was it?

Dick was so lost in thought coming up with plans, counter-plans, and counter-plans to the counter-plans that he didn't even notice Alfred talking until the man put a hand on Dick's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Master Dick, calm down. Master Bruce was perfectly alright. Maybe a tad worried, but he gave no sign to either of you being in any sort of danger."

Dick looked at Alfred and took a deep, calming breath. Once his heart rate slowed down, he felt all his muscles loosen. They'd been tensed in preparation for a battle, one that obviously wasn't going to happen.

"Got it. Sorry, Alfred. Lead the way." Dick gestured towards the door and down the hallway sheepishly.

Alfred spun around on his heels and began to walk down the hallway. Dick trotted after him and down the halls of the Gothic Era Manor. The vases and paintings on tables and walls seemed much more intimidating than usual. Even the very shadows from the smallest of objects seemed to loom as if they were about to swallow both him and Alfred.

Dick gulped nervously. 'Stop this,' he chided himself. 'You've faced scarier stuff in Gotham than a couple of shadows.'

Alfred looked back with a raised eyebrow. "Is everything alright, Master Dick?"

Dick shook his head and waved his hand. "It's fine. Just thinking."

Alfred hummed disbelievingly but turned back around. They continued their trek downstairs. Dick had certainly lived here long enough that Alfred shouldn't have had to guide him, but he was glad for the company, albeit silent. Also, Alfred was a true British butler through and through; it would be against everything he stood for the just leave Dick to meet Bruce in the study on his own.

Dick followed Alfred effortlessly. He didn't need to keep a close eye on where Alfred was leading him. He knew the path like the back of his hand. And it meant he was able to watch the paintings as he walked by. He paused for a moment in front of one of the brighter ones. It showed a colorful picnic and equally colorful guests. But there was something about the painting that just didn't fit. One of the people in the back was dressed in all black robes or something.

Dick shook his head. He was just being paranoid. Thinking the black figure had just magically appeared was crazy. He sped up and walked beside Alfred, resolutely not looking at any more paintings on the walls. He didn't want to imagine a person following them and get freaked out.

That determination didn't stop him from noticing the shadows being darker just a few steps ahead of him. He put it out of his mind for now.

After a few moments, the strange feeling of being watched abated. The shadows stopped feeling so menacing and it didn't feel like the paintings were judging him anymore. Maybe it had been his imagination, but something told him that wasn't it. He knew after all his years as Robin that he had to trust his instincts, and they were telling him that without a doubt something had happened in the hallway. He made a mental note to tell Bruce about it after their guests left.

The rest of the journey down the stairs and to the door of Bruce's study was uneventful. It didn't take long for them to arrive at the thick wooden door guarding Bruce's study. Alfred knocked, once then twice. Dick waited behind him.

"Come in, Alfred." Bruce sounded strained. Not the type of strained that meant he was about to be killed or anything. Or that he was in danger. It sounded more like he was stressed or possibly in shock.

Dick hopped from foot to foot, waiting for Alfred to open the door. It seemed to take forever for Alfred's hand to take the door handle and turn it. Dick followed him into the room and hung by the now closed door while the attention was on Alfred. He wanted to get a quick look around so he could assess the situation.

Bruce sat behind his desk, tense. Their two guests were sitting on the other side, back to the door. They turned around and peered at Alfred as he stepped in. Dick watched them carefully, taking notes of their appearances and body language.

Both of the guests were men. One of them was young, probably around Bruce's age, maybe a few years younger. He had shoulder-length black hair, well groomed despite its limpness. There were smile lines surrounding his mouth, though he wasn't smiling now. His clothes were all black and he wore a trench coat. If Dick hadn't been able to see the man's face, he would have been worried. Because as haunted as this man's eyes were, he wasn't evil or out to harm anyone.

The second man had long silver hair and a beard. Both were several feet long and had to be past his waist. He was very old, at least eighty, but something told Dick the man was even older. He was wearing a pink tie along with the brightest suit Dick had ever seen. And this was coming from him, the person Bruce had actually tested for color blindness once.

While the young man was looking at Alfred and seemed to have only seen him, the old man looked straight at Dick, unblinking. His eyes were a piercing blue. Light and dark at the same time. Then the old man smiled.

Dick knew he'd been made, plus Bruce had already seen him too. He was being called in here anyway, so no point sticking to the shadows. He stepped out and cautiously joined Bruce on his side of the desk, aware of both the men's eyes following him.

"Will that be all, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, I think we're good. Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said slowly.

Alfred nodded and left the study promptly.

Dick shifted on his feet slightly. The silence was starting to get awkward, and he didn't like how much the younger man was staring at him. It made him feel like he was being taken apart and judged. Not really the nicest feeling in the world, and he certainly dealt with it enough to know.

Dick met the man's eyes definitely, silently ordering him to stop. It was something Dick did more than he'd like to admit, but it was the only way most people would ever leave him alone. The man looked to the side, caught somewhere between shame and hope. Dick wasn't quite sure to think of that combination.

Dick looked at the older man, who was also staring at him, but not really in the same way as the younger man had been. He was looking Dick over with a curious eye as if he wasn't sure what to think of Dick. Then he nodded, almost to himself, in a satisfied manner.

"Hello, Mr. Grayson," the old man said, voice surprisingly soft. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Albus Dumbledore. This is my associate, Sirius Black." He gestured to the younger man.

Dick stopped himself from reacting to the familiar name. Sirius Black was a notorious mass murderer wanted for escaping a prison in England. Bruce hadn't arrested either of them yet though, so Dick was obviously missing the big picture.

He reached across the desk and grabbed Dumbledore's hand, giving it a firm shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dumbledore," he said politely.

Dumbledore chuckled heartily and shook his head. "Ah, we'll have none of that, Mr. Grayson. It's simply Professor Dumbledore."

Dick smiled slightly. He didn't trust Dumbledore, not by a long shot; something was off about him. That didn't mean he couldn't like him though. And so far he did. The man seemed nice enough and there was just this charisma he had.

"Okay, Professor Dumbledore. You can call me Dick then," he offered politely. He didn't think the man would, he seemed too old-fashioned for that, but he may as well offer.

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and indulgently in the same way Alfred did anytime Dick told him not to call him 'Master'. In other words, basically confirmation that Dick wasn't going to be called anything other than 'Mr. Grayson' by the man for a long, long time.

The younger man snorted when Dick told Dumbledore his preferred name. Dick turned to glare at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Sirius said lightly, easy-going smirk giving the air of a troublemaker. He had an accent, similar to Dumbledore's, but much stronger. It reminded Dick of London. In fact, Dick would bet they were both from Britain. "It's just… that's really a terrible name."

"It's a nickname," Dick snapped. "Not my real name. And I like it." He felt a hand land on his shoulder. Bruce was giving him a reproachful look. Dick sighed deeply. He drawled: "I apologize for my rudeness," in just the right way that it was quite obvious to everyone he wasn't sorry at all.

"It's alright, kid.," Sirius said amiably. His eyes were twinkling. Dick wasn't sure if he liked the man or despised him. He could see it going either way quite easily.

The room fell into an awkward silence, well, awkward for him and Bruce. Neither of their guests seemed to be bothered by it at all. Dick stared at Bruce and Bruce stared at him. Two could play the waiting game. Finally, Bruce broke down.

"These two men knew your parents," he said hesitantly. "In fact, they were very close friends."

Dick raised an eyebrow. Somehow, he had the feeling he'd have known if his parents had ever been friends with a Gandalf wannabe and a mass murderer.

Bruce shifted in his chair. He looked from his hand to Dick and back. Dick shifted on his feet again and waited. Dumbledore and Sirius were still watching them closely. Dick felt like he was on a dumb reality TV show.

"And they came all the way from London to talk to me?" he finally prompted.

Bruce looked at Dick. Dick looked back. Neither said anything. Sometimes living with a guardian who had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon was more than a little annoying.

"Mr. Grayson," Dumbledore finally said. Dick turned to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce do the same. Dick wasn't sure he liked how this situation was building up. Whatever they were trying to tell him, it was big. Scary big. And had to do with his parents. So yeah.

"Yes?" Dick asked slowly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know whatever it was he was about to be told.

"Are you aware you were adopted?"

Dick froze. Bruce hadn't adopted him. He was still just his ward. He was pretty sure Bruce would have told him if he had decided to adopt Dick. Because Dick refused to even think of the other possibility. He looked like his dad and had his mom's build. That was it. End of story. Move along, folks.

"No. I wasn't adopted," he said, face blank, voice surprisingly even.

"Mr. Grayson, I know this may come as a shock, but you-"

"No," Dick interrupted Dumbledore. "I wasn't. I look just like my dad and my mom. I'm not adopted. And Bruce would know if I was. He has my file as my legal guardian. I'm not adopted."

Dick crossed his arms and planted his feet as if that would stop it from being true. He wasn't dumb. He already knew it probably was, but he refused to believe it. The difference him and his dad had in looks could be attributed to his mom's effect on him. He and his mom's slight eye color difference could be from anything. He wasn't adopted.

"Dick-" Bruce began gently.

"Tell them, Bruce," Dick demanded through the tears he could feel pooling in the corner of his eyes. "Tell them they're wrong. Tell them to go away!"

And Dick knew he was being unreasonable. He was on the verge of shouting. His voice cracked on the last word. But this couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He didn't care what anyone said.

"Dick," Bruce tried again. "They're not lying."

Dick heard his heart pounding in his ears and thumping so hard in his chest it might as well fly out. This… this wasn't happening. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe he'd been doused with fear gas or something. Anything to stop this. Because he didn't want to believe. He couldn't believe.

And that was when it hit him. If he was adopted by his parents it would have been in his file. It would mean Bruce knew the whole time and never told him. Suddenly Dick felt a rush of anger like he'd never felt before.

"You knew," he snarled, walking right up to Bruce and leaning into his face. "You knew the whole time. You knew they weren't my parents. You knew that I could have living family out there."

Bruce stood up so he was towering over Dick.

"Would you really have wanted to know that they weren't your parents? That none of them were your family?" Bruce demanded sharply, but also quietly. It was amazing how their arguments could happen through a few simple words, looks, and all without raised voices on either side.

Dick could still feel eyes on him. He turned away from Bruce and closed his eyes.

"I deserved to know," he whispered, quiet enough that only Bruce would be able to pick it up.

"You were eight," Bruce returned, just as quiet. "You were found abandoned in London on the steps of an orphanage. You wouldn't have wanted to meet them."

"You don't know that!" Dick shouted, whipping around to face Bruce. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "Not everyone is like you, Bruce," he whispered, barely audible. "I don't only care about the mission. I'm not like you," he spit with vehemence.

Bruce looked stricken. Dick didn't feel sorry. He didn't. Or at least he didn't want to.

Quick as can be, Bruce schooled his expression into a blank look. Dick could tell he'd hurt the man, and in a strange way, he was proud of himself for being able to get past the man's thick skin. At the same time though, he was immensely ashamed.

Bruce sat down again.

"Just," Bruce stopped, sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just listen to what they have to tell you."

Dick gave a curt nod, avoiding Bruce's eyes.

"What do you have to tell me?" Dick demanded except it didn't come out that way. It came out sounding like he was on the verge of tears, and Dick was angry at himself. He wasn't some kid. He wasn't supposed to cry in front of strangers. He scrubbed harshly at the corners of his eyes quickly and glared at the men.

"What Mr. Wayne has said is the truth, Mr. Grayson," Dumbledore said.

"That still doesn't tell me what you need with me," Dick said coldly.

"Tell me, Mr. Grayson, do you believe in magic?" Dumbledore asked, a strange gleam in his eyes.

Dick shrugged. He didn't really see the point to the question. But whatever.

"Yeah, I do. My… my aunt used to-"

Dick clamped his mouth shut. That was something he didn't really want to share. It was his and his alone. It was one of the last things he had left of her.

Dumbledore stared at him oddly. So did Sirius.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Dick demanded.

Dumbledore shook his head as if to clear his mind.

"You see, Mr. Grayson, I am a wizard. So is Mr. Black. And you are as well."

Dick stared blankly at them. He turned to Bruce and stared at him too. That was… not what he'd been expecting to hear. Not anywhere near what he'd expected.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I can… I guess I can believe that, maybe."

It wasn't that hard a leap when he already believed in magic.

"Now, Mr. Grayson, to understand why we are here to speak with you, you must listen to a story," Dumbledore said.

Dick nodded. Listening was something he was pretty good at. And that meant he could avoid the whole 'you're adopted' thing for a while longer.

"Many years ago in the wizarding world, there was a man named Tom Riddle. He thought himself above muggles and muggleborns, so he wished to get rid of them." Ah, racism, basically. If Dick had the meaning of muggle and muggleborn right. "One day, he decided to kill a family. This family had one son. They his with their son. Tom Riddle, who chose to go by Voldemort, found them. He killed the mother, the father, and tried to kill their child."

Dumbledore paused, probably to gauge Dick's reaction to the story. Dick had a feeling it wasn't just a story.

"He failed. Somehow, the child survived and Voldemort disappeared. The child was sent to live with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Nearly four years ago the child started to attend Hogwarts, a school of magic. Earlier this summer, Voldemort came back through the use of dark magic and attempted to kill the child. He failed. At that time, I went to see the child's aunt and speak to her. I discovered something.

"Mrs. Petunia Dursley, the child's aunt, told me about a day nearly fourteen years ago. Her sister, Lily Potter, approached her with her newborn baby. She asked her sister to watch her child for a few days. Petunia was jealous of her sister's magic, she herself was only a normal muggle. She thought of it as being unnatural. One hour after her sister left, she took the baby and left him on the steps of an orphanage in London."

Dick waited with baited breath for Dumbledore to continue.

"Mr. Grayson, that baby was you. Voldemort somehow discovered your existence and has been seeking you out. We have come to take you someplace safer. It will also offer you the chance to meet your older brother, Harry Potter."

"So, my biological parents left me with someone they knew hated magic and kept my biological brother with them? Why? And why didn't they tell anyone about me? Were they trying to get rid of me?" Dick demanded.

"Mr. Grayson, please calm yourself-"

"Calm?" Dick laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "Calm! I'd say I pretty calm considering what you just told me. Pretty calm considering my biological parents didn't think I was important enough to tell anyone about. PRETTY CALM FOR SOMEONE WHO'S PARENTS PRETTY MUCH ABANDONED THEM!"

"SHUT UP!" Sirius screamed, jumping to his feet."You don't know anything about Lily and James! They loved you! It wasn't them you put you on those steps! Don't you dare blame them for that!"

Bruce stood up slowly and glared at Sirius, not quite a Batglare, but close. Sirius glared back defiantly.

"You will not talk to him like that," Bruce said calmly.

"Then he should know what he's talking about before he talks about it," Sirius growled.

"Sirius," Dumbledore reprimanded harshly. "Sit down."

Sirius complied, although he didn't look too happy about it. Bruce also backed down, though he didn't sit again. Strangely enough, even though he'd just been yelled at, Dick wasn't that hurt. He could understand why the man was acting that way.

"Why does he want me?" Dick asked Dumbledore quietly. "I wouldn't be useful, not knowing about magic or anything."

Dumbledore tilted his head and gave Dick an unreadable look.

"I believe he wishes to use you as leverage against your brother," he said. "That is why you must come with us so we can protect you."

"No," Bruce growled. "He's safe here.

"You aren't equipped to deal with what he'll come after you with," Sirius said stubbornly. "If you want him to live, he needs to come with us."

"Dick is safe here. I don't know either of you very well. He's staying here."

"Mr. Wayne, if Dick comes with, he'll have a chance to meet his brother. You wouldn't rob him of that, would you?" Dumbledore asked.

Dick watched them argue back and forth, feeling annoyance growing. He was a person. He had opinions. And he wasn't a kid. Bruce didn't get to decide what he did, just like Dumbledore and Sirius didn't get to decide what he did.

"Stop it," he whispered. No one heard him. "Stop it," he repeated. This time everyone heard him.

They all watched him expectantly. Dick swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I get to decide. Not you, Bruce. And certainly not you guys. I don't even know you that well. I mean, you're a wizard," Dick pointed to Dumbledore. "And you're a wizard who everyone thinks is a mass murderer, but obviously not, because otherwise, Bruce wouldn't let you in here."

Dick ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. Everyone was looking at him.

"I… I want to meet him. But I don't want to stay there. I have a life here. And I like it." Dick glared defiantly at Sirius. "I'll go there to meet him. Then I'll come back here unless I'm visiting him."

Bruce nodded.

"That sounds doable," he said carefully.

"Mr. Grayson, I'm afraid that there is more you need to know," Dumbledore said gravely. "As an untrained wizard, it is unsafe to leave you in the muggle world. You could hurt or even kill people, yourself included. We also came to offer you a spot at my school, Hogwarts."

Dick stared blankly.

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"No. I'm not going to some magic boarding school. I'm staying here," Dick said. "That's non-negotiable."

"I am afraid that due to an instance in America in the early 1900's it is illegal for an individual with magic to not receive any training. If you don't, they are within their rights to force you into one of their schools," Dumbledore said gravely.

"I'm not going to a magic school. I like my school here," Dick said. He turned to Bruce. "There's always another way, right?"

Bruce nodded. "Of course there is, Dick. In fact, I have an idea."

"You can't do that!" Sirius shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "He needs to learn."

"He will," Bruce snapped. "I'll hire a tutor. I'll find some way so that he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to."

Sirius scoffed and muttered, just barely loud enough for Dick to hear: "Because you're just another stuck-up, rich brat who needs daddy to help him get his way."

Dick punched Sirius before the man had time to react. He glared and rubbed his fist. It would be bruised tomorrow.

"What was that for?" Sirius demanded, pulling a stick out of his pocket and aiming at Dick.

"You don't know anything," Dick growled. "I'll come with to meet my brother, but that's it. I might come back to visit him. I don't want to go to your school. And I certainly don't want to be called spoiled. I'm not."

"Sirius, put your wand away," Dumbledore ordered softly. The man complied. Turning back to them, Dumbledore said: "We'll give you a day to think everything over and come back for your answer tomorrow if that's alright?"

Bruce nodded absently, too busy looking at Dick to say anything else. Dick shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He was in so much trouble.

On their guests way out, Dick heard Sirius mutter: "He's nothing like James."

It didn't sound like a compliment.

It took nearly ten minutes for Bruce to talk.

"You shouldn't have punched him, Dick," he finally said.

"I don't care," Dick muttered bitterly. "He was a jerk. The only reason I wasn't meaner is because I do want to meet my brother."

"So you are going then?"

"Well yeah, of course," Dick said, throwing Bruce a 'duh' look. "Do you think they're telling the truth about the law for magic in America? That I need to learn how?"

Bruce slumped into his chair. "Unfortunately, yes, they were. It's something all magical communities have in common. America's is one of the toughest though." Quieter, Bruce muttered: "I hate dealing with wizards."

"You know about them then? How much of what they said is true?" Dick demanded. "Are they actually good guys? How do you even know the truth? And is that Dumbledore guy telling the truth about who my brother is?"

"Yes, I do. Zatara being part of the League means that all of our members are aware of the magical world and how most areas work. Before they came here, they approached the Justice League. Albus Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard at the moment. He leads an organization dedicated to defeating Voldemort. Most of the wizarding world thinks that both he and Harry Potter are lying about Voldemort. They're not, though. We're their… allies."

Bruce took a deep breath. "As for how sure am I that he's telling the truth about you being Harry Potter's biological brother, his DNA is on record from a doctor's check-up last summer. I'm sure."

Dick nodded solemnly.

"I just… I can't believe this. My parents…"

"They loved you, Dick. And they didn't care that you were adopted. You are and will always be a Flying Grayson."

"Yeah," Dick said softly. "I suppose I will."


July 21st

"Thanks, Bruce. I think, I know, I need to do this," Dick said. He threw a t-shirt in his backpack along with a green sweatshirt.

"I understand, Dick," Bruce said for what must have been the millionth time. "It's family. Like your Uncle Rick."

Dick smiled sadly. "Yeah, I guess so. Still, thanks."

Bruce nodded his head.

They continued to pack an overnight bag in silence.

"The 22nd, right?" Dick asked. "And I still can't know what you have planned for the Team?"

"Afraid not, Dick. That would ruin the surprise."

"I suppose so," Dick said ruefully. "So, do you think I'll meet him today?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think so. If what I suspect is correct, they'll be keeping a close eye on him in a different location until they spot activity near him and bring him to their base for safekeeping."

"'Suspect', he says," Dick joked bitterly. Still, he could understand how that was the best plan. And the Robin part of him was all for it. The Dick part of him, that was the part that hated it.

"Zatara will be helping you with magic," Bruce said out of the blue. "He knows who I am, and by extent, you."

Dick turned to Bruce, gaping.

"Wait, what?" he asked faintly.

Bruce shrugged. "He trained me."

And Dick understood. Zatara was one of the trainers Bruce went to before becoming Batman. So they were friends. That was… a little strange. He'd never seen any hint of that in all his time knowing both men.

"Ok," Dick agreed finally. "Sounds good, I guess." Then, just because he couldn't help himself, Dick added: "You should have told me."

"I should have," Bruce agreed. "It never seemed like the right time, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry, Dick."

"Thanks," Dick said. "You're going to have me come back a lot, right? For patrol and stuff with the Team? And just for normal hanging out time?"

"Yes," Bruce promised.

"And tell Alfred what's going on? I don't think either of us have mentioned it yet."

"Of course," Bruce said, sounding just the right amount of scandalized.

Suddenly Dick was overcome with a surge of emotion. He turned around and barreled into Bruce, wrapping his arms around the man's midsection tightly.

As quick as the moment came, it was gone. Dick moved away from Bruce and ran downstairs as fast as he could. In fact, he ran so fast he almost knocked over Dumbledore, who was looking curiously at one of the entryway paintings.

"I'm ready," Dick panted. "How are we getting there?"

Dumbledore pulled out an old shoe.

"Grab hold of it," he said mysteriously.

Dick raised an eyebrow but listened. Two seconds later he felt a jerk from his navel and the world blurred.


Here's the timeline for this story:

2010-Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. Dick starts the team. Harry turns 15 on the 31st of July. Dick 13, then turns 14 on October 17th though.

2009-Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry turns 14 on the 31st of July. Dick is 12, then turns 13 on October 17th.

2008-Harry's third year at Hogwarts. Harry turns 13 on the 31st of July. Dick is 11, then turns 12 on October 17th.

2007-Harry's second year at Hogwarts. Harry turns 12 on the 31st of July. Dick is 10, then turns 11 on October 17th.

2006-Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Harry turns 11 on the 31st of July. Dick is 9, then turns 10 on October 17th.

2005-Harry lives with the Dursleys. Harry turns 10 on the 1st of July. Dick is 8, then turns 9 on October 17th. His parents die when he's 8 in spring on April first when Harry is 9. Dick spends 2 months in juvie.