Two pieces of paper arrived in front of Bruce at breakfast Monday morning.
The first was Alfred's response to his letter and the one Professor McGonagall had sent. Bruce couldn't remember Alfred ever getting really angry with him but this time had to be different. He couldn't even bear to open the letter, instead he slipped it into his pocket still sealed. Alfred must have been furious when he heard what Bruce had done, especially after he'd been specifically warned. Robin seemed to know something was wrong, for once he didn't immediately attack Bruce's breakfast after finishing his delivery and instead perched on Bruce's shoulder and gently rubbed against his cheek.
The second was handed to him silently by Professor Flitwick just before breakfast ended, as students were beginning to file out on their way to class. It simply said to report to Professor Nygma's office Tuesday evening after dinner for his first night of detention. That note Bruce pocketed immediately, hoping nobody at the Ravenclaw table would ask about it. Jones had reappeared at dinner on Thursday none the worse for wear, but since then the number of dirty looks coming his way from the Slytherin table had shot up. At least the Elites were too proud to admit that their biggest member had been bested by a bookish little first-year. Nobody else (except perhaps for Talia who always acted like she knew everything) seemed to have heard about the encounter on the stairs. Bruce preferred to keep it that way.
As usual, it was completely impossible to focus on Professor Binns' lecture for long. Today, however, it wasn't because Bruce kept nodding off but because his mind kept drifting down to the unopened letter in his pocket. If he didn't open it then he'd never have to know how angry Alfred was with him, right? Knowing he'd made Alfred upset must feel worse than he already did, so why find out? Is that what Mom and Dad taught me? To avoid my problems and pretend nothing's wrong? Thomas Wayne had faced his problems head on, right up until his death. How could Bruce do anything less?
Besides, whatever Alfred had written in this letter he'd meant for Bruce to read. Ignoring it would just be letting him down even more. And I've already let him down enough. With a sigh, he pulled the message tube from his pocket and unscrewed the lid. Alfred's letter was inside, written on the thin messenger paper Bruce had purchased, and folded over to keep the lightweight sheets in order. The ink from Alfred's fountain pen bled through the thin paper, showing his tidy hand on the back of the outer sheet. I'm stalling, Bruce chided himself and, still somewhat reluctantly, opened the folded bundle of paper.
"Master Bruce," It began "I heard from Professor McGonagall about what happened shortly after Robin arrived with your letter. She tells me that when you realized the young man was injured you ran for help and confessed to what you had done. That is good. What you did was wrong, you should have considered what would happen before you acted, but when the time came you put things right and you accepted the consequences of your mistake.
"You overreacted and I believe that you know that. This other boy, regardless of his size, has not had the training or the experiences that you have. What he threatened you with was not close to the price you made him pay for those threats. It is up to you to understand this. You've learned how to use force to defend yourself but you still need to learn when to do so and when not to.
"I believe that your father would be very disappointed to learn how rashly and inappropriately you've acted, but he would also be proud to know that you tried to fix and learn from your errors. I know that I am." Below was Alfred's signature.
It was just as well that Professor Binns didn't pay attention to his class and that his lectures kept the students hypnotized. By the time class was over Bruce had composed himself and managed to wipe any signs of wetness from his face. He left class with the other Ravenclaws, Alfred's letter folded up in his pocket. One burden he'd carried on his shoulders since Friday was lifted, Alfred wasn't angry with him. Now he just needed to face whatever Professor Nygma was going to come up with for his punishment.
He found out earlier the next day than expected. As everyone was packing up their things at the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Nygma called out loud, "Oh, Bruce, before you go I need to talk to you about your detention with me tonight." From the enormous grin on Nygma's face, it was clear he'd guessed that Bruce didn't want anyone to know about his detention or why he had it. He was deliberately announcing to the class that Bruce was in trouble and inviting them to find out why. Was this part of Bruce's punishment or did the professor just enjoy watching him squirm?
Bruce endured his classmates' curious glances in silence and dutifully waited until the classroom was empty. When at last Louisa Ferret had finished packing her things and left, which took her twice as long as normal, Bruce approached Professor Nygma's desk. Nygma remained seated and grinning, saying nothing for a minute. It was apparently up to Bruce to ask, "What do you need me to do, Professor?"
"I'm glad you asked, Bruce," he replied, as though Bruce had come and asked of his own accord rather than being forced to do so. "And I'm glad you decided to get yourself into trouble this week! I was afraid I'd be stuck with one of your dunderhead peers as an assistant." He pulled a small packet of papers from a drawer in his desk, but instead of handing it over he held it just out of reach. Bruce knew what was coming next even before Nygma asked, "What are you out of when your fever is up?"
"Sorts," Bruce tried very hard not to roll his eyes. Were Nygma's riddles getting easier or was he just reaching to come up with a relevant one?
"Good, and that's what you'll be doing for me tonight," Nygma handed the packet to Bruce. "Your job will be simple, you'll be sorting references for me. Read these so you understand my organization system and what I'm looking for. I don't want to waste any time explaining this to you when we should be working." He turned back to the notes on his desk in a clear sign of dismissal, so Bruce gathered up his bookbag and left the classroom.
In the hall he hesitated over where to go next. There was still over an hour before dinner. Did he want to head up to the common room and face the inevitable interrogation about his detention now or hide from them and deal with it at dinner? At dinner the questions would be easier to avoid but by then rumor would have spread and he would be facing, at least, all of Ravenclaw house. There wasn't really any avoiding the conversation that was coming. It was probably better to get it over with.
On the other hand, if he was busy explaining what had happened then he couldn't very well be reviewing the notes Professor Nygma had given him, could he? It wasn't avoiding an unwanted confrontation if he was being a responsible student and obeying a professor. He could review Nygma's notes in the library and avoid unwanted attention.
At least, he thought he could. He was still reviewing Nygma's notes, and there was still some time to go before dinner started, when he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of George and Miles. They sat down on either side and if he'd been harboring any illusion that they were simply here to study it was quickly shattered when George said, "Louisa just told me that you got detention with Professor Nygma." After a moment, when Bruce didn't reply, he added, "You might as well tell us now, we're gonna find out sooner or later."
It was true enough, and Bruce had been thinking the exact same thing earlier. So he told them about literally running into Jones on the landing, about how he'd pushed the bigger boy down the stairs, how Nygma had suddenly appeared behind them, and about what Professor McGonagall had said when he'd gone to fetch Madam Pomfrey. It was better talking to the two of them than he'd been worried about. George and Miles didn't interrupt his account and they didn't accuse him of hurting Jones on purpose or, even worse, act impressed by what he'd done.
In fact, when he was finished, George only said, "Is that all?" Bruce stared open-mouthed at the other boy. What more did they expect, wasn't this bad enough? George wasn't finished, though. He put his hand on Bruce's shoulder and went on, "Bruce, mate, you really need to watch a proper Quidditch game. I hear that Jones is trying out for the Slytherin team as a beater, and if he can't handle a little tumble down the stairs he's got no business on a broom."
Miles nodded his agreement and added, "Really, Bruce, I know you feel bad about overreacting and all, but it's fine, Jones is fine and nobody's mad at you except for you." After a pause he added, "Well, and Manny and Pamela and Rampo, but they were mad at you anyway, so they don't count."
Bruce had to laugh at that. They were right, after all. He'd gotten into a fight with a bully, overreacted, and pushed the other boy down the stairs. It was dumb and he was being punished for it because that was fair and to make sure that he learned. And he would learn. When another encounter like Thursday's happened in the future he'd respond appropriately. Beating himself up wouldn't change anything and wasn't making things better.
Of course, he did still need to do his detention and Professor Nygma did want him to finish going over all these notes before he got there. He told Miles and George as much. George's eyes began to glaze over when Bruce mentioned that Nygma wanted help with sorting notes, a task that sounded just as dull to him as it did to Bruce, but Miles got a curious look on his face, "I wonder what Nygma wants help finding."
"Probably more riddles," George muttered, but he did pick his head back up. The real reason Nygma had come to Hogwarts was still something of a mystery. He said it was just for the prestige, but rumors flew around the school regarding the American transplant. Of course, as Talia had told him on the train, there was nothing the Hogwarts student body loved more than rumors and they were not above inventing gossip in the absence of anything interesting.
With their company (even though George wasn't really helping) Bruce got through Nygma's notes much more quickly than he had been and they were through the stack well before dinner. Which left them with time to speculate over what it was that Nygma was researching. Of course, nothing he'd given Bruce said what it was he was researching, it was mostly just about what references he was using and how he was organizing his own notes. These covered a wide variety of topics. There were references to the history of Hogwarts itself, magical Europe in general, a number of different fields in magical theory, and all of it was well beyond anything that the three boys understood.
Nothing in the papers he'd given Bruce gave them any indication as to what Nygma was actually researching. Miles, however, still wasn't deterred from the possibility of figuring out if Nygma really was after some great secret, "Maybe we could figure out what he's after from where he's trying to find it."
George groaned, "Even if I wanted to read every page of A Survey of Magical Britain in the Fifteenth Century - Which I don't! - we can't remember every last book and chapter he wants!"
He was right, there wasn't enough time to copy everything Nygma wanted. Except, of course, there was. Bruce removed the Forgers' Folio from his bag, "If we copy everything down, can we split up all the research?" They both nodded, Miles eagerly and George reluctantly, as Bruce slipped all of Nygma's notes into the Folio.
Of course, showing them the Folio led into explaining what it was and why he'd bought it. Both agreed that it wasn't technically cheating, since they still had to study the notes and it was all the same notes that Binns wanted them to copy, they were just skipping the part where they actually had to listen to him. They also agreed that it would be better if they weren't caught borrowing Binns' notes to copy.
Miles suggested that one person staying after every class would be suspicious, but if they split the Folio between them they could take turns staying to copy that day's notes. They could meet up three times a week in the library to swap the Folio and copy each other's notes, "... so we'd just look like a regular study group!" A History of Magic "study group" was also the perfect chance to meet and go over what they'd learned about Nygma and whatever he was up to. It was a good plan, better than Bruce's original one, and he felt a little guilty that he hadn't thought to involve the other boys from the beginning.
By the time they headed to the Great Hall for dinner they had each selected a portion of the references to look over and agreed to discuss their findings during their next "study group" meeting. With luck at least one of them would have found some clue.
After dinner it was time to report to the office belonging to the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. The door was open and several lamps were lit, so Bruce let himself in. Nygma wasn't there yet but his presence filled the room down to the emerald green overcoat on the hook next to the door. Books and notes were littered everywhere, the only flat surface in the room that hadn't yet managed to accumulate clutter was a small student desk that had clearly been moved in from one of the classrooms. There was a note taped to the seatback with a poem,
"How you begin when you want to go back.
A place you can stay that you also can pack.
What's done to those whom we wish were away.
Put them together, and here's where you'll stay."
Since the chair was obviously for Bruce there was no need to solve the riddle, the answer somehow had to be "detention." He set his things down next to it and pulled out the original copies of Nygma's notes that he'd been given that afternoon. There was no clear indication which piles he was expected to start sorting, so Bruce began looking around the office. From what Talia had told him, this room was apt to change dramatically with each new owner. A professor might cover it in personal photos and knick-knacks or fill it with practical equipment and monster cages for lessons or they might never bother moving in at all, as Professor Desmond had done.
Professor Nygma had covered the office in what had to be his research. Against one wall he'd used magnets to stick a variety of notes to a blackboard which featured a large, hand-drawn map of Hogwarts and against another he'd hung up a corkboard and pinned yet more notes and pictures connected by bits of string in a variety of colors. Several shelves and small tables were covered in books, which looked to have been borrowed from the school library, along with piles of handwritten notes of varying ages. In one corner a huge globe sat next to the professor's desk, the globe had sticky-notes in apparently random locations and the desk was covered in yet more notes and books.
Bruce was just beginning to look over the corkboard (What's the connection between Plato, Ravenclaw, and Pendragon?) when Professor Nygma finally returned and saw him standing there. "I'm disappointed, Bruce. I thought my hint was enough for you to figure out which seat is yours." Bruce mumbled an apology and returned to the "detention" chair.
Once he was seated, Nygma dropped a stack of loose papers on the desk. "I want you to organize these and take notes about anything that seems relevant to the topics I assigned you this afternoon. You did finish going over everything I gave you, right?" Bruce nodded without speaking and Nygma went on, "Good. Now get to it." Without another word he returned to his desk, and began going through his own pile of research.
For the next three hours Bruce silently worked his way through the stack of papers. It was an eclectic mixture of copies of pages from books, scraps of notes in at least a dozen different hands, newspaper clippings from around the world, and even whole pages torn out of books and diaries.
He skimmed all the items, looking for anything that resembled what Nygma had told him to look for, wrote down a quick note about each, and set them into piles. He was only a third of the way through his stack when Nygma finally said they were done for the night and that Bruce could return to his dormitory.
It was a long, sleepy walk back to Ravenclaw Tower. After mumbling a response that he instantly forgot to the doorknocker's riddle and shuffling through the empty common room, he could finally slide into bed. As he drifted off to sleep, Bruce mused that he still had two more nights of this and was no closer to figuring out what it was that Nygma was after.
