A BIG 'Hello' to all of my faithful readers, especially those who have added me to their update lists! Contrary to popular belief, I am neither dead nor in a coma, merely too busy to even think about updating. BUT! I was reading my first fic in a long time (Indago, on I believe…) and I realized that I need to get my $$ in gear!

So, although this is hot off the press and probably not my best work, here it is, the next installment of

The Fell Brotherhood

Chapter Seven – ROBIN

"Alright then. Sign me up."

"Huh?" Absolom/Harry? stood up, pacing our room, spinning my bo staff in his hands.

"That's what I've been preparing for my entire life – destroying an evil madman wanting to take over the world and use mass-genocide to kill all Muggles and those who stand in his way. I'm a dead shot aim wise and know more spells than most Aurors…uhm, dark wizard catchers."

I half-wondered if Absolom/Harry?! would write me a glossary for his wizarding talk.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but I highly doubt Batman would let you on the team, what with you just dropping in out of thin air – wait a second…" He was still toying with my bo staff. "How did you know about the compartment under the floorboard?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. My aunt and uncle were the biggest Muggles you've ever seen – they have a very Medieval outlook on magic. I found the compartment in my room as soon as I was upgraded to the smallest bedroom in the house. Damn useful for hiding food when my fat tub of lard cousin's diet was enforced for the whole family…"

"Upgraded?"

"Yeah. First ten years of my life I spent with them I was kept in the cupbard under the stairs. No big deal, buecase I won't have to go back to them ever again."

"You don't?" Absolom/Harry?!!!? gave me a look that said, 'You clearly don't get it, do you?'

"Because," he explained patiently, "I'm going to convince this Bat-fellow to let me help until I've got enough experience to kill Tom – the crazy maniac who's got dreams of world-domination. Then I'll come back here and help out until I die of old age."

"Now, Harry, look - "

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

Whoa! He just did a scarier Bat-voice than Batman!

"Uhm, is it safe to ask why?" Absolom (NOT Harry!) sat on the floor, rubbing his forehead again, then lifted the fringe of his hair, showing a lighting-bolt scar.

"See this? It's what makes me famous in my world – on Halloween night when I was only one year old, the same crazy, calling himself 'Lord Voldemort' barged into my house and killed my parents. When he went after me, though, he couldn't. The Killing Curse rebounded and hit him, ripping his soul fro his body. He fled for thirteen years, during which I was known as 'Harry Potter – The Boy-Who-Lived,' the only one to ever survive that curse. I am now looked upon as the Wizarding World's Savior-From-Whatever-Evil-Lurks. THAT'S why I hate the name 'Harry Potter.'"

"Oh. Ouch." Absolom snorted, then gave a harsh laugh.

"Yeah, 'ouch.' That's why I want to sign on. To fight crazies like Tom, before they get so far."