Disclaimer: I own neither the Justice League nor Harry Potter. I just borrow them for personal amusement, no money made.

Author's Note: Yes, everyone. It would seem that I finally am back...for now, at least, with a new drabble that takes place after the first three I have posted so far.

Warning: There is an untold deal of what they would call "Bashing of Minerva McGonagall" here. So if you are a Minerva McGonagall fan, please turn back now. If you are not one for such scenes of shaming and guilt-tripping, please also turn back now. You all have been warned.

P.S.: This is a reminder as to those who wonder as to how Harry ended up with the Justice League - so far, what I have been doing are only DRABBLES, EXTRACTS, and hence obviously not a full story that starts from Chapter One.

Diana gave her a look the like of which she had only seen a few times. As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, the Professor of Transfiguration, and of course a battle-experienced member of the Order, Minerva McGonagall was long-accustomed to being the person who would deliver the kind of gaze that would make a saint feel wanting, or a sinner look down at the ground in shame. So far, the only women who had been able to withstand the intensity of her gaze with their very own were Amelia Bones, and perhaps Augusta Longbottom, but the Princess Diana was a different story altogether. She had the look of a Goddess of Judgement: a straight direct look, scanning one's face, reading the eyes, showing the person her own open face that could occasionally appear to be carved from stone in its gravity, and her clear sapphire-shaming eyes that would stare unflinchingly at mortal and immortal alike.

"Because he no longer trusts you, or any other adult associated with Albus Dumbledore," she said flatly. "Harry has told us that he is certain you are not out to get him, and you do not have any nefarious intentions towards him, but…though he did not say it in those precise terms, we can still interpret his meaning: apart from Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, you are the one who has hurt him the most."

McGonagall went pale, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Diana halted her by putting up her hand, "Actions always speak louder than words, Miss McGonagall, and the present reality before us is that all the things you did and did not do played a most vital contribution in Harry's misery."

By now, one would have expected Minerva McGonagall to erupt, but there was something about Diana's look and tone that struck a chord deep within her, forcing her to realise that what the Amazon was saying was very true. And that was horrifying, beyond horrifying. "How?"

I am beginning to see why Zatanna has such a low opinion of the British wizarding world…for all the impression this old woman gives of a stern yet fair person who could be depended on to do the right thing, at her core, she is still one of those blind, deaf, and mute sheep who would follow that Judas goat even into Tartarus itself… "It is your policy of neither trusting Harry, nor being there for him when he needed you the most, nor providing information that he is entitled in every way to know. In his first year, just for helping a true but misguided friend in need, you deducted an unreasonable amount of points that caused almost the entire school to turn against him, and yet you stood by and did nothing as he was forced to endure the most shameful treatment. Later on, he and his friends told you that someone was after the Philosopher's Stone, but you not only dismissed their concerns as nonsense, and even threatened to deduct points for behaviour that you interpreted as severe misconduct, when it actually stemmed from the very real, very great fear that an evil monster might return to full power. As a result, it was up to three first-year students to fight against a possessed Defense teacher to protect a treasure which, in all honesty, should have never been in a school to begin with.

In Harry's second year, you again failed to inspire any confidence, or trust, or even basic respect in him – your fear was as plain as day, Miss McGonagall. Harry did not receive any comfort from any knowledge that the teachers were dependable trustworthy protectors, and he was more frightened than he had been in his first year over the possibility that his parents' murderer might return to full power. Of course, there is also the issue that, just because he was a Paselmouth, nearly everyone was willing to believe he was the Heir of Slytherin, the very one responsible for attacking innocent people. He, the Boy Who Lived, who had been robbed of everything so that the British wizarding world could enjoy a new dawn free of fears and despair. For the second time in a row, you did nothing as he was treated most appallingly, and in the end it was up to him to battle both an evil spirit and a legendary monster to save your wretched school.

In his third year…well, there is the issue of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. You knew that Mr. Black was "after" him, that he and Harry's parents were intimate friends, and that he was Harry's godfather. Why did you not tell him right from the start? Have you not heard that forewarned is forearmed? Yes, it might be a difficult painful truth to bear, but did he not have a right to know? What if Mr. Black really did want to kill him? As for Mr. Lupin…before I proceed, let me assure you that, by all the Gods of Olympus, I do not harbour any prejudice or ill will against him for his condition. Harry has told my friends and me that he was the best and most decent teacher any student could have ever had, but…as upset as Harry will undoubtedly be if he were to hear this, we are still of the opinion that Mr. Lupin should not have been allowed into Hogwarts as a teacher. He forgot to take his potion that night when Pettigrew was exposed at long last. I would agree that he had every reason to be distracted, but this is still a testament to his not being concerned enough with being safe around the students to ensure he always took his potion. What if he had ended up hurting someone in his werewolf state? You should also consider the fact that he had known all along Mr. Black was an Animagus, and he had believed him to be guilty, but he ultimately preferred risking the safety of an entire school full of children to admitting he had made a foolish mistake during his teenage years. He should never have been hired, Miss McGonagall, not when he could actually go to such lengths to preserve his credibility in the eyes of those whose good opinion he wished to retain.

In Harry's fourth year, neither he nor we knew if there was anything you could have done to make things better for him. However, you did not even bother to try to help him get out of the tournament, and for the third time, you took no action over the utterly shameful treatment he received from the rest of the school over something that was never his fault to begin with."

Diana felt neither resigned relief nor bitter satisfaction as she took in the unshed tears in McGonagall's eyes and the shameful guilt in her countenance. What was the point of crying over spilled milk? Yes, it would seem that her tirade had brought this thoughtless, foolish old woman to an awakening of the extent in which she had owed an innocent child, but Diana only felt a grave aching sadness over Harry's suffering. There should never have been a need for me to criticise her to this point. Despite her age and her experience, she has learned so little – perhaps nothing at all – of what her position truly entails. If she had exerted herself to be a true teacher, perhaps Harry would not have suffered so much.

For a moment there was silence as the two women regarded each other, and then, "Miss Diana, I am at an utter loss as to how to respond, but for the sake of giving Mr. Potter and you all some assurance that I am not a bad person despite my multitude of errors, I will still try. Will you please allow me to have my say?"

Sometimes, Diana wished that the League did not have to abide by the principle of fairness. "You may."

McGonagall swallowed past a lump in her throat, took a deep breath, and started, "During Mr. Potter's first year, I know I had disappointed him in the extreme. I have no justification for my actions, and I can only say that it will always be one of my greatest regrets, my deepest shames.

During his second year, I would admit that I was frightened, Miss Diana. I was frightened beyond expression, for I did not know what exactly was going on, and I honestly did not know what I could or should do. When the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, a student died, and though Hagrid was held liable, I knew that it could not have been him, and he was just only a convenient scapegoat. In other words, the true culprit was still out there, and the monster not only existed, but was possibly still alive. Believe it or not, Miss Diana, I was sick with fear and worry. Fear of not knowing for sure whether the whole matter was either a sick joke or the Heir of Slytherin had really returned, and worry as to whether the Petrifying attacks would worsen into becoming fatal ones. I wanted everyone to know how dangerous it was, and if I had pretended as though nothing was wrong, I was afraid that some student would not nearly be as diligent as they were in keeping themselves safe.

As for the accusations of Mr. Potter being the Heir of Slytherin, I swear to you, Miss Diana, I had wanted to have words with those who made the charges. I was even willing to issue punishments if need be, but I was overruled in this matter by Dumbledore. He said that it was too trivial a matter for enforcing discipline, and that everyone was entitled to their respective opinions. He even reasoned that Mr. Potter could, in fact, learn an important life-lesson of maturity and strength through this experience.

During his third year, I know I should have been honest with him about Sirius, but after everything he had been through, I just could not bring myself to tell him Sirius was after him. I wanted him to be safe, but I also wanted him to be happy. It may sound like a poor excuse to you, Miss Diana, but how could I impart to him certain knowledge that could plunge him into a state of constant unease and agitation? And how could I have told him about Sirius being his godfather? James and Sirius had been two of my favourite students, and one of my greatest grieves that James is gone forever. I had always had a difficult time believing that Sirius was capable of betraying his dearest friend to his death, how could I have looked at Harry in the eye and told him that one of my favourite students was trying to kill him? And that person was his godfather, one of his parents' dearest friends, and the one who should have taken him in after his parents died…how could I have put that all in words to a child who had already been through so much?

With regards to Remus, I can only say this: sentiment and charity. Just like James and Sirius, Remus had also been one of my favourite students, and out of the four Marauders, he was definitely the most responsible, most rule-abiding one. I believe he played a most important part in ensuring that, with that one exception where Sirius tricked Severus into the Whomping Willow, whatever pranks the Marauders never resulted in death or serious bodily harm. When we fought together during the First Wizarding War, I observed that, apart from Lily, he was most definitely the person whose careful and conscientious nature kept James and Sirius from being killed or injured by their occasional recklessness. Hence, along with Dumbledore, I welcomed him with open arms into Hogwarts as the Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, trusting his sense of prudence and caution to preserve him from his becoming any danger to the students. It was an extremely great shock to me when I learned that, during his school years, he had led the other three Marauders into becoming secret Animagi illegally. It was a greater shock as well as a severe disappointment to know that an unexpected distraction would make him forget to take his potion.

You should also know, Miss Diana, that the British wizarding world can be a cold, cruel place. Because of his werewolf status, Remus has been unable to find a well-paid job, and there is also the issue of his pride and his determination to make his own way in the world. Please believe me, Miss Diana, when I say that when Harry's parents were alive, it took them a supreme effort to convince Remus to let them financially support him, and even then, whatever charity he could bring himself to accept was limited to only what he needed to survive – the basic necessities, that is. He could never bring himself to accept luxuries. Not from his most intimate friends, not from anyone. After Harry's parents died, he was stuck with doing menial tasks that are actually more of a humiliation than anything else, especially since they are far below a wizard of his caliber, their payments were always so meager, and he always knew he would have to leave in time before his workmates noticed the signs of his lycanthropy. Hence, when Dumbledore decided to offer Remus a teaching post at Hogwarts, I agreed with him at once. At that time, I had thought of it as an act of kindness, of charity that would not wound the pride of my former student, given how it was a good chance for him to be able to feed and clothe himself appropriately through honest means. But I know now that it had been an unwise choice, and I should have found other methods of helping him without putting the safety of the students in potential risk.

During Mr. Potter's fourth year, I swear to you, Miss Diana, I did try to contest his participation in the tournament. However, I was overruled by Mr. Crouch, and Mr. Potter was forced to participate. I wanted to help him, but all teachers were strictly monitored to ensure that students did not receive any unfair advantages over others. As for his treatment by others…I was again overruled by Dumbledore when I wanted to intervene. He said it was merely one of those falling outs that actually strengthens the relationships in question by the time it blew over, and it could serve as yet another lesson of maturity for Harry. He also said since the main instigator was Draco Malfoy, it was up to Severus to deal with it, but he refused to do anything about it."

Diana studied McGonagall for a long, intense moment before sighing. Well, despite her mistakes, she is not as bad as Dumbledore after all. At the very least, her situation is that of a willing spirit being trapped in weak flesh, unable to help despite wanting to. Honestly, what was Dumbledore thinking? May Hera, the Mother of Gods, forgive me for this, but I still wish that he is one of those who could warrant the Furies personally dragging into the Pit of Tartarus to burn forever. Him and that wretched, accursed Severus Snape. "You made a terrible, terrible mistake when you turned him away during his first year, Miss McGonagall. It was one of the triggers that set off such a series of unfortunate events for Harry. I cannot help but wonder how things might have turned out if you had only acted in a manner befitting your positions."

"I know, Miss Diana, and so do I. If I could turn the clock back to amend my mistakes back then, I swear by all that is good and holy in this world, I would. But I cannot." By now, tears were rolling down McGonagall's face, and her hand shook with the tremor of turmoil as she brushed them away. "I cannot change the past. I have enough decency to admit to you, though, that I will neither wear a hair-shirt nor ask for forgiveness, for I know that the situation with Harry is beyond that now. He has every right to think ill of me, and I cannot blame him if he wishes to never see me again."

"I believe that to be something which only Harry has the right to decide," Diana observed passionately, her voice now like ice. Whatever little pity she felt for McGonagall after that heartfelt confession was now replaced by a carefully-suppressed rage that was fuelled from the contempt of how Dumbledore's doctrine of assumptions had poisoned those who believed the very best of him. Great Hera, has no one in the British wizarding world ever heard of the term "free will"? Are they literally lacking in even the least semblance of an independent mind? "Neither my friends, nor I, nor Harry is Albus Dumbledore, Miss McGonagall. You will do well to remember that."

"I am aware of that, Miss Diana. There is indeed a world of difference between Dumbledore and the Justice League."

"I am glad you have noticed that, Miss McGonagall."

This was Batman, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. His arms were folded across his chest, and his face as grim as that of Diana's as he regarded McGonagall. If it had been some other time, McGonagall would have been taken by complete surprise, and inquired as to how it seemed as though he had appeared out of thin air. However, the torment of her shame and guilt was such that she did not notice. She just merely stared at him, the tears still rolling uncontrollably down her lined face, the dark remorse in her eyes and about her mouth making her look far older than her years.

But none of it touched the paternal heart of the Dark Knight, which actually growled with a fierce dark satisfaction at seeing one of Dumbledore's staunchest supporters brought so low. Besides the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Potions Master, this old woman was the one whom he felt the deepest contempt for. "When the time comes for you to meet Harry's parents again, Miss McGonagall," he begin, as conversationally as if the topic was about the weather, "and if they were to ask you why have you – their former Head of House as well as one of their trusted friends – failed their little boy in every possible way, what are you going to say, Miss McGonagall? Just what are you going to say? Would you mind telling me about it? Surely you must have an excellent defense for that, and I swear that my curiosity over that is as genuine as can be. You would not be cruel enough to deny me that knowledge, would you?"

For a moment, just a moment only, Diana thought of protesting against Bruce's deliberate cruelty towards an aging woman who was truly sorry for her mistakes. But then she thought of the state that they had first found Harry in, how he had struggled on the process of recovery, the night terrors that always ended with him breaking down in silent heart-wrenching sobs, and she kept silent and looked at McGonagall as if awaiting her answer.

Why do these people have to make life so difficult for all of us? Why?

Minerva McGonagall took another deep steadying breath, but she did not bother brushing away her tears this time – what was the point when the ache in her heart was nothing less than what she deserved? "I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Batman, but I do not have any defense, just like how Dumbledore has none. As I have told Miss Diana previously, in spite of all the mistakes I have made, I am not delusional to the extent where I would protest that my hands are clean and my conscience is clear in this matter. I also have no doubt that, when my time comes, I would have answer for my failing Harry before his parents, and yet there is no answer I could possibly provide. There is no defense I could possibly apply. All I can say is that…when my time comes, I will let them deal with me as they see fit. I will accept, with every inch of my soul and being, whatever punishment they deem fitting for me. It is what I deserve, after all. This is all I have to say."

However, Batman was not done. "Whose side?"

"Mr. Potter's, Mr. Batman." McGonagall replied firmly. "You have my word on this. I am even prepared to make an Unbreakable Vow at this very instant if need be. I may be an old cat, but I believe – or rather, I hope that I can still be taught new tricks. Please do believe me, though, when I say that Albus Dumbledore has lost my confidence as a war leader and the headmaster of a school."

No, you have not earned any points yet, McGonagall. Not when there should have been an "irrevocably" before the "lost". The Judas goat that you so blindly follow had to be dragged, kicking and screaming all the way, I might add, to the mirror that reflected the monster he had become, and I still do not believe that he will undergo any serious honest changes for the better. And you are one of his staunchest supporters, too weak-willed to know the definition of an independent mind, too accustomed to your practices to change, and too hesitant to challenge the higher authorities even when you know them to be wrong…goodness, how did my new little boy survive all those years under your and that wretched goat's "care"? "What would happen if my friends and I were to prepare some "presents" for Dumbledore after Tom Riddle has been destroyed?"

Neither McGonagall nor Diana was under any illusions as to what Batman meant. Though his tone was as casual as any sparkling conversationalist, they knew that what he had in mind for Dumbledore would be anything but a wonderful present. In his voice was the promise of retribution for what the old man had put his new son through, and McGonagall was willing to wager anything that, beneath the cowl, his eyes were blazing with his contempt and disgust for the person whom she once believed to be the most praiseworthy, admirable wizard of all time.

And now he was asking what to expect from her if they were to target Dumbledore.

"I believe that, by then, I will no longer be in any position of power to raise any objections or to do anything to defend him. Not that I will do anything even if I could," she shook her head and shut her eyes tight even as they continued to leak tears. "The price for trusting him was too high."

Batman gave a sad low little laugh. "But you are not the one who paid, were you?"

"No." McGonagall replied silently. "No, I was not the one who paid." It was Harry who paid. But he never had to pay for anything in the first place. In fact, he is actually one of the wizarding world's greatest creditors. Everything was robbed from him – his parents, his childhood, his natural right to live a normal life of comfort, peace, and happiness – so that our world could enjoy a new dawn of hope and renewal, but we not only failed to repay him, and even went on to exploit him shamelessly. And I…I did not do all that I should have for him. I was so convinced that Dumbledore had the right of things, so obsessed with maintaining the boundaries my positions demanded of me, that I ended up becoming one of those who had hurt him the most.

It was then that Diana decided to show a little sympathy. "Miss McGonagall, you may rest assured that the Justice League can be counted on be just yet merciful to those who deserve it. My friends and I most certainly do not believe in tarring everyone with the same brush, and we always try to practice judgement on a case by case basis."

"Indeed." Batman conceded, his tone now as smooth as a river flowing over its stones. "We will most certainly be just. But as Harry's new guardian, I believe I am under an obligation to confide in you this, Miss McGonagall: there are some, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape among them, who are unworthy of my mercy, especially when they have showed Harry none despite having had so many opportunities. They had better pray they can receive from others who are more powerful than I am."

With that, Batman left.

If she can be convinced to stay out of the way, then things might be easier for us when demanding retribution for Harry. "There is a saying amongst the League that you should know, Miss McGonagall," Diana started, "When the Boogeyman goes to sleep, he checks under his bed for Batman. Yes, he has neither the superhuman powers that so many members of the League – such as I – possess, nor any prodigious skills in the mystic arts, but he is still the very essence of a powerful and dangerous man, and I can assure you that he is a true marvel to even the Gods of Olympus themselves. Take care not to make an enemy of him, or I can guarantee you: it will be the very worst mistake of your life."

Harry lied on his bed, staring out into nothing. His body was in its usual state of exhaustion that was a side-effect of the medicine he was still required to take, but his mind was too full of thoughts to allow him to sleep.

"Harry?"

Harry turned and slowly sat up. At the door was a tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully-built dark-haired man. His strikingly handsome face was soft with the love and understanding of an affectionate father, and his dark eyes seemed to resemble a doe's hide due to their tender warmth: Bruce Wayne.

For a moment there was silence as the two regarded each other, separated by age but not in experience, and there was even something of an uncanny resemblance between them – not in features, perhaps, but in their air, their very posture, the very intensity they radiated, all of which revealed that they knew only too well what a harsh place the world could be. "You do not have to do this." As always, Bruce was the one who break the silence. "Trust me, Harry, trust that you do have a choice in this. You do not have to go back to that world if you do not want to. The League and I will take care of Voldemort and all those who follow him. We will do everything in our power to ensure that your true friends are safe, alive, and unharmed. You can stay here with us…with me…for as long as you wish to."

Harry looked at him. It was a most bittersweet thing, really – this powerful man was not related to him in any biological way, had never known his biological parents, and was not even a part of the British wizarding world, and yet…he had received a million times more love, more compassion, and most importantly, more understanding than anyone from that world had ever given him from this man. He had actually answered his long-forsaken prayers of having a faithful loving guardian who was truly devoted to his well-being without any ulterior motives, a trustworthy yet non-judgmental friend who would listen and even offer a shoulder to either lean or cry on if need be. And he meant what he said, Harry knew. For the first time in forever, he was given a choice.

But what about Ron and Hermione? Sirius? Remus? The Weasleys? "Mr. Wayne, as much as I appreciate your most generous offer, I still have to go back, if only to take care of that monster once and for all."

Bruce approached him. "It should not be up to you to kill a monster, Harry. You are not responsible for the peace and safety of an entire community, and no one has the right to expect you to be. Trust me; you no longer have to be at the front lines without anyone to care for your safety. You do not have to be the saviour of a world that does not deserve you in the least. Let the League and I take care of things, please."

A soft sad smile touched Harry's face, and for a moment one could see in him the child that was both hopeful and optimistic of being able to find a new loving family when he first set foot in Hogwarts, before the multitude of burdens crushed his spirit utterly. Bruce also noted with a sense of pleasure that Harry's skin was no longer as deathly pale as it had been during his illness. "I do trust you and the League, Mr. Wayne. I do. I do with every inch of my heart, my soul, my entire being. I am also realistic enough to admit that I cannot singlehandedly defeat Voldemort and his minions, and from what I had seen of the adults who were supposed to be my protectors as well as my allies…" he closed his eyes and gave a little laugh, "I know that I cannot depend on them. Your and the League's help is going to be a Godsend for sure. But even if I no longer need to become a murderer, I still need to go and speak with certain people, even if it is for the last time."

Bruce took Harry's hands in his and looked at him in the eye, hazel-brown locking with emerald-green. "I know I might come across as unfair and harsh to say this, Harry, but I do not believe that you owe anyone in that world any final conversations or explanations. It is they, in fact, who owe you. You have done so much for each and every one of those whom you had let into your heart, and look at how they have repaid you." A large, warm hand stroked Harry's dark hair, which appeared to be rapidly developing a healthy lustrous sheen. "They have failed you at the very moment where you needed them the most, and I fear that they might take ruthless advantage of you again if you were to return."

Bruce would never admit it, but it had taken all of his understanding and empathy to let Harry have the final say in whether he should return to the British wizarding world or not, for he feared for him. Feared that the cluster of spiders comprised of Dumbledore and his minions would try to entangle Harry back into their web of manipulations when he returned. Feared that people whom Harry viewed as his best friends would prefer Dumbledore's favour to keeping faith with Harry, and help that wretched accursed old goat to soften Harry's heart, before ripping it out to tear into shreds again.

It was only the knowledge that he would be no different from that ancient monster if he were to deny Harry the right to decide that made him hold his tongue, though it certainly did not stop him from trying to persuade his new son otherwise. Like what he was doing now.

"What more could do they do to me that they have not already done, Mr. Wayne?" Once, Harry's eyes would be filled with tears as he said this, but they were clear and calm this time round. The constant crying during the early and middle stages of his process of recovery seemed to have steeled his nerves at last, and there was an unacknowledged yet undeniable part of him that reasoned he had far enough tears for people who were just not worth it. "What more could they do to someone like me, who has seen their very best as well as their very worst more times than I cared to count?"

Bruce knew that the honest answer was "nothing", but he could not bring himself to say it. He will always regret not having met Harry sooner. So many things could have been prevented if he had. He seated himself beside his new son and brushed his hand gently across his face, a gesture of genuine affection the so-called Boy-Who-Lived had never known until he met Bruce Wayne. "All the more reason why there is no need for your return, Harry. You owe them nothing. Everything was stolen from you, and my friends and I honestly do not want to see you lose more in their hands. As I have said: you do have a choice this time."

"Mr. Wayne, my heart does not want to return as well, but my conscience is telling me otherwise. This matter between Voldemort and I is something that goes to the essence of a person's conscience – Mr. Wayne, I do not think I will ever be able to have a good night's sleep if I were to just wash my hands of it completely and leave everything to you and the League, for I believe I owe it to my parents, at least, to personally ensure that that monster is irrevocably vanquished. You, of all people, should understand best what my position is truly like. And besides, I do not want to be the type of person who leaves without being honest for once about how I think and feel of those who surround me, and without saying goodbye to those who have merited it."

"But you will let the League and I stay by your side through this, right?" Bruce's paternal heart was as heavy as lead at his inability to say anything to Harry's shrewd empathic assessment, but his sharp analytical mind was swift to urge him to accept the available second-best prize.

"Yes, I will," Harry gave in utterly to Bruce's embrace and held him tightly. Though there were no tears, his voice shook with the tremor of refreshed pain and renewed joy. "I have promised you all, and I am a person of my word. I know that I no longer have to be frightened, or worried, or feel lonely this time round, for you and the League will be with me. Especially you."

"Sometimes, I will give a great good deal to be able to come back even if I were to go down that place," Bruce confessed as he paced in the study of Wayne Manor.

"He is not worth it, Bruce. You know that just as well as I do." Diana objected gravely, "He is not worth getting your hands dirty with his blood. Do not forget that you have a new son that needs you most desperately right now, and that the rest of your family and your friends – us – need you as well. Do not let yourself become another Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin, or Minerva McGonagall, Bruce. I do not think Harry can survive yet another disappointing heartbreak."

"Precisely, Bruce. As justifiable as your rage against Dumbledore is, your current focus should not be ensuring his punishment." Clark intervened from his chair. "It should be first on Harry's recovery, safety, and welfare. Then it should be ensuring that Voldemort and his minions are utterly destroyed. After all this…no one can possibly stop you from ensuring that the likes of Dumbledore and Snape are served whatever karma you deem appropriate for them. However, I am obliged to remind you that Harry does not and never would want either of them dead, and you should remember who you are and what you stand for," he concluded with a meaningful look that earned a reproachful glance from Bruce.

"That was low, Clark."

Clark shrugged his broad shoulders. "It is still the truth. And it is precisely because of Harry as well as my being one of your best friends that I have to say such things. Everyone knows that Harry does not want either Dumbledore, or Snape, or both of them dead. Goodness only knows what he would think of and feel about you if you were to literally shed their blood. It is you whom he opened his heart to more than he had with anyone else in the League, Bruce, and it is you whom he trusts implicitly. Out of all the members of the League, you are also the one who walks the edge of the abyss every night, Bruce. You are the one who exposes himself to the greatest risk to an immortal soul on a daily basis, and though you – thank goodness – have not fallen into that pit, the risk is always there. Do not let Harry down, Bruce, please. Do not become that which we fight against, which you fight against every night."

"You think I am unaware of that?" Bruce looked as if he was chewing on lemons, his smile was so bitter. But he was not angry. How could he be, when Clark was only saying what a true best friend would say in the present situation? "You think I do not know my own weaknesses, my own negative side? That is exactly why I say that I will give a great good deal to be able to come back from going down that place. Because I know that I do not have what it takes to return. I know that I can never do to the likes of Albus Dumbledore and the Joker what my darkest side wishes to do. I will not only lose myself forever, but also each and every one of you all. But it does not make it any less painful. I will always feel as though I have failed Harry in the most unforgivable way, just like how I will always consistently fail those whom the Joker has killed, or harmed, or incapacitated."

"There are things in this world so much worse than death, Bruce," Diana reminded him, her eyes soft with compassion and understanding. At times, it also took everything she had to restrain herself from crossing the line between heroism and villainy. "Do not forget: he is an old man. Death will be too easy for him, and his subconscious might actually welcome it with open arms and a willing heart. What you should do – after Harry has fully recovered and Voldemort has been vanquished, of course – is to destroy him in a way that makes him wish he had been killed instead."

Clark stared at her in wonder. He could still remember his first encounter with Diana: her every inch had been and still was the form and demeanour of a Warrior Goddess, but he was worldly enough to sense in her a sort of innocence and naivety that can only be developed from being raised in seclusion on a mythological secret island. She categorised all things in a simple way back then, and intentionally or not, she revealed her tendency to view the opposite sex as inferior beings, with the slow but gradual exceptions of him, Bruce, and the others in the League. But that aura was now gone. The Princess Diana of Themyscira had matured into a pragmatic, sensible woman with a grey view of the world and a new respect for the opposite sex, though her strong sense of justice and peace is as constant as ever. I almost feel sorry for the likes of Dumbledore and Snape when she and Bruce team up to ensure they receive comeuppance…almost, that is…

As Clark contemplated what a formidable team Bruce and Diana could make, Bruce was lost in a maze of thoughts.

He hated to admit it, he really did, but he could not count the number of times where he found himself jealous of that which he and the League fought on a daily basis. It was part of that dark side he kept under constant control. Yes, though he will never admit it, he could be foolishly, sinfully, desperately jealous of evil. Jealous of the fact that evil always seemed to have it easier than good did: it had no attachments to hold them back, no moralities to worry about, no one to lose, but most of all, when it killed, it not only felt nothing, but even rejoiced in it as if it was the greatest pleasure in the world.

No, even when he embarked upon this quest to avenge his parents' murder, he had not – and still did not have – any desires of becoming a murderer himself. He did not wish to become a monster that killed people for fun. It was this that made Bruce angriest and most upset with himself: the certainty that he could never be as detached or indifferent as evil was to taking sentient lives, even if those lives are truly evil and truly needed to be vanquished for the peace and safety of many other innocents. He was also not too happy at present with his innate respect for the free will of others, as well as his unwillingness to cross that boundary to act like a dictator.

If I am able to cross those lines, the possibility of Dumbledore and his cluster of spiders relapsing into bad habits would not even exist, and I will not have to fear so much that Harry will, in spite of all our efforts, be entangled again in their web of schemes. With Dumbledore gone for good, his cluster of spiders will turn into a flock of sheep, leaving my Harry be. If I am able to bring myself to force Harry to stay and put him under house arrest, I will not have to fear that either Dumbledore, or Voldemort, or one of their minions would destroy him through their plots or the kindness of his heart. Goodness, I will be able to keep him from becoming a vital part of a war.

"In the meantime, we might still have to work with the old fool and his flock of sheep. They could still be of some help against that snake and his nest."

Diana raised her perfectly arched eyebrows at Clark – a regal gesture that would have diminished Snape's trademark sneer into insignificance. "As helpful as a pile of logs."

"Logs can be used for numerous things, Diana, such as keeping a fire of vengeance burning hot and fierce," Clark observed with a ghost of a smile, "and need I remind you of how many times we have utilised logs as weapons?"

"Must you really do this, Clark?" Diana sighed. "I would view their not worsening a bad situation as a divine blessing from Hera herself, honestly. No one in the League has any good impression of them, not even you."

"There are times where we cannot afford to choose our allies, Diana," Clark's tone had taken on the resonance of a strong mountain – the voice of the great leader that he was. His handsome face was now so filled with character and determination that it seemed like an alternate version of Bruce Wayne when he had made up his mind on something. "As you have pointed out, I do not have any good impression of Albus Dumbledore or his followers. Not in the least. In fact, I will confess that the very thought of having to cooperate with them nauseates me intensely. But sometimes, we have to work with those we loathe in order to properly protect the innocent. In this case: Harry. At the moment, Albus Dumbledore is perhaps the only person we know who knows Voldemort forward, backward, and inside out. He had taught him himself years ago, and later formed his own organisation of vigilantes to fight him and his minions. Hence, if anything, he is a good shot that we need."

"In the name of Hera, Clark, have you forgotten that Bruce is the greatest detective this world has ever seen? Everyone knows that when Bruce puts his mind to something, there is no secret that he cannot uncover, no mystery that he cannot solve. What can Albus Dumbledore possibly offer us that Bruce Wayne cannot find out?"

"No. Clark has a point."

At that, Clark and Diana turned to look at Bruce. "Bruce…"

Bruce gave Diana a warm glance of appreciation, but still shook his head. "No, Diana. I appreciate your high opinion of my abilities, but they are not perfect, and I am most definitely not omniscient. Clark does have a point: Dumbledore might know some secrets that even my very best cannot uncover, and yet they could be crucial to getting rid of Voldemort once and for all. This is something that I cannot leave to chance. Getting rid of Voldemort is the first and most important step to breaking the shackles that forsaken world had forced upon Harry."

"I cannot deny that. But this is a man who has been accustomed to playing the most sinister games for a long, long time, Bruce. Are you sure about this?"

"No." Bruce was tempted to laugh at the shock and wonder on his friends' faces when he confessed this, but he did not. "No, I am not. How could I possibly be, when I have seen what his best intentions have caused Harry? But I would rather have him in a position where I can see, speak, and interact with him, than have him somewhere that he might relapse into old habits and cause more trouble for Harry. After all, those who surround him would believe that feces smell like heavenly perfume if he told them it did."

"You do not have to worry too much, Bruce," Clark was quick to assure his friend, his eyes warm with genuine concern. "We will help you keep an eye on him and his flock of sheep. We promise."

"I know that, Clark, and I really appreciate it." Bruce sighed. "For Harry's sake, I will work with Dumbledore and his cluster of spiders. I will think of it as keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. But I will tell you this," the dark menacing wrathful look of a God now touched Bruce's face, and his voice turned colder than the bitterest winter, "the instant that cruel, manipulative, and faithless old silver spider produces one more silk thread with my Harry in mind, I will make him beg for death."

Author's Second Note: That is all for now, folks. Please do remember that I am always open to suggestions, that reviews are my primary driving source, and please tell me what you all honestly think and feel about this. Good day, everyone...