Tim wasn't quite sure how, but he had somehow managed to not be kicked out of Hogwarts and locked up in a dungeon. Well, that wasn't exactly true. It was obvious that Dumbledore was the reason he had for all of this, but why Dumbledore would trust him so blindly was beyond Tim. Sure, Tim was probably also a little too eager himself to befriend this so-called "Order of the Phoenix" (it's not befriending, he reminded himself, you're using them, don't kid yourself), but that was mostly because Tim was at a standstill in his investigation and this opportunity would not come around twice.

Also, he still wasn't sure why he had agreed to stay for lunch.

Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall had left immediately after Dumbledore had had a few short words with Mundungus, who also disappeared after giving Tim an apprehensive glance. Arthur and Bill had then left, leaving Tim alone with Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and Molly. Molly, who, only minutes after their meeting had adjourned, had found her way over to where Sirius was handing Tim his belongings back (Tim immediately snatched the annulus out of the man's hands and tied it around his neck).

"Dear," she had said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm making lunch for everyone. What would you like?" He supposed, looking back on it, that she hadn't exactly presented him with the option to not stay and eat.

He hadn't come up with a suitable answer for her, so now he sat at the kitchen table with the other three Order members while Molly stood over near the counters, waving her wand and effectively enchanting the entire kitchen to cook for itself.

"So, tell me about Harry," Sirius immediately asked. "I don't get to talk to him a lot. Can't have people tracking me down, I guess." Somehow, he didn't sound like he cared too much whether or not that happened. "Anyways, how's he doing?"

"He's…"

…he's getting into fights with Umbridge and losing terribly, and he's starting a Defense Against the Dark Arts club. He watched someone die in front of him for the first time, which I can say from experience is incredibly traumatic. Hermione and Ron are both really good for him, but he's really angry all the time. He just seems so tired of being The Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Tim shrugged. "It's…complicated. He has a lot on his plate."

"I'll bet he does," Remus sighed. "Seems the boy can never get a moment's peace without something happening to him."

"I'd say he's faring pretty well, all things considered," said Tim, remembering how much of a mess he himself was two years ago after Bruce had presumably died. He remembered rejecting his life in Gotham after Dick became Batman and basically stole the Robin mantle from him to give to a murderous child. And none of them believed Tim when he told them that Bruce was alive, leaving him to go fly solo looking for clues, a mentally unstable teenager beating up criminals and convincing himself that he was okay with operating in morally grey areas. And just as Tim was beginning to show some signs of healing, Bart went and got himself killed in December, just to top things off.

Compared to that, Harry was doing great.

"Can't argue with that," Tonks agreed. "Say, Tim, you never actually mentioned which House you were sorted into."

Tim chuckled. "You guys already figured it out before. I'm a Ravenclaw."

Tonks grinned back. "Really? Fancy that!"

"It certainly explains all that—" Sirius gestured vaguely to Tim, "—detective crap you were doing before."

She nodded, pointing at Tim. "Yeah, what was that all about?"

"What was what about?" Tim asked cheekily, as though he wasn't aware of the little show he had put on earlier.

"The whole thing with Dung in the pub!" she said. "That was some Hazael Hirst shit right there." Though Tim had absolutely no clue who Hazael Hirst was, he turned away demurely and waved a hand at Tonks in an 'oh-stop-it!' gesture, assuming this to be a compliment.

"Oh, that?" He shrugged, holding back a grin. "No, that was nothing. I just read a lot of detective novels." He presented this as if it was actually a valid excuse for the deductions he had made earlier. Those were the results of training under the World's Greatest Detective for six years and counting.

"No wonder you're friends with Hermione, you're both geniuses," Sirius commented, sounding entirely genuine in this assertion. "Smart and good in a fight. The Order could use more people like you." That one actually made Tim blush.

"Say, where'd you learn to fight like that?" Tonks asked. "You know, with all the fancy tools?"

"Growing up in Gotham, self-defense is kind of a 'must,'" said Tim. "It's not like I can use magic in front of all those Muggles, after all."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "But that wasn't self-defense. You actively attacked Mad-Eye and Snape."

True. "Y-yes," Tim automatically agreed. "My parents enrolled me in several martial arts schools, so I suppose I feel comfortable fighting back."

"The hell are 'martial arts?'" Sirius asked, making air quotations with his fingers.

"It's how Muggles fight without wands," Remus explained. "You know, punches, kicks, that sort of thing."

"There's a whole school for that? That sounds exhausting!"

Tim thought back to sparring with Bruce until he couldn't stand up, which was when Bruce would squat down and teach Tim how to take down an opponent while prone.

"Oh, you have no idea," he said. When Bruce had finally accepted Tim as his new Robin, he really doubled-down on training (which was definitely a desperate effort to keep the possibility of another Robin dying in the field at a minimum).

"Tim, honey!" Mrs. Weasley called from the other end of the kitchen. "Are you all right with a peach cobbler?"

Tim was speechless. She's making dessert, too? What the actual hell?

"I—uh—" He looked over at Sirius, who shrugged as though this was a common occurrence. Across the table, Tonks nodded encouragingly and gave Tim a thumbs-up.

"That sounds lovely, Mrs. Weasley." It seemed that, through sheer coincidence, Tim had somehow stumbled across this country's Martha Kent. When she made lunch, she made lunch.

"So, Tim," Molly asked, waving her wand and directing her veritable feast to set itself onto the kitchen table, "what's your family back home like?"

Tim's mouth began to water as the large porcelain dish of lasagna floated down right in front of him. Students had been gossiping about Hogsmeade since the beginning of the semester, and yet Tim felt perfectly content to stay right here in Sirius's old, dilapidated house (why someone would make it a secret headquarters, Tim didn't quite know) being served by Molly Weasley, chef extraordinaire. It was appropriate that she was bringing up the topic of family, seeing as he had taken one look at the lasagna and thought about Alfred's own legendary lasagna recipe.

"Well, we're all kind of spread out, but we stay in touch." He immediately dug into the lasagna with gusto, lifting the spatula up high just so he could watch the gooey cheese stretch out.

"Big family?" Remus asked.

Tim nodded. "Uh huh. Four brothers and a sister," he bragged. Tim wasn't sure if it was normal to brag about how big one's family was, but Tim felt a weird sort of pride in the sheer number of relatives he had gained over the course of his life.

Sirius let out a low whistle. "And where do you fall in the lineup?"

"Fourth."

"And you said you're adopted by Muggles?" Molly continued, watching with what looked like satisfaction as Tim wolfed down his food. It was no Alfred lasagna, but it was different and delicious in its own right.

"Yeah. Actually, most of us were adopted. Bruce is big into adoption. He sort of has a problem."

"Well, that sounds like a lovely problem to have," she said. "It sounds like you're really close with your family. That's good to hear." Something in Tim's chest throbbed at those words. Maybe it was the intense, motherly aura of Molly or her stellar cooking, but Tim suddenly got very, very homesick.

Of course, he didn't show it. No need to worry anyone unnecessarily. "Yeah, they really are the best." At least, he thought he wasn't showing it.

Molly stared at Tim for a moment before asking, "Is this the first time you've really been away from home?"

"No, but it certainly is the longest," he admitted with a laugh. Molly, however, didn't seem to find the humor in this comment. She stood up from her seat and rounded the table, leaning over Tim's chair and giving him a small kiss on the top of his head.

She patted his shoulders. "Oh, sweety, that must be hard for you."

Hard? I only hear from some of my family every couple weeks, and I'm constantly having to be someone I'm not around everyone. I'm almost as lonely as I was after Bruce died. Hard is an understatement.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said politely instead of dumping all of…that…onto her. "That means a lot to me."

"Aaaaaand…you've been officially adopted by Molly," said Tonks, winking at Tim. "See, she's also got something of an adoption problem."

"Oh, hush!" Molly huffed, grabbing Tim's plate and loading it up with roasted vegetables. "I just want Tim to know that he's always welcome here."

"Not like he's gonna be ditching school to come here," said Sirius, getting a second serving of lasagna. "Excluding today, of course. Not that I would object to him coming to visit every once in a while. He's far better company than Kreacher, I can tell you that."

Tim was about to ask if Sirius was under house arrest, but then he remembered that this man was a wanted criminal who was trying to stay under the radar, so the 'house arrest' was probably as true to his situation as it was ironic. Tim wasn't sure the comment would be in good taste.

"Who's Kreacher?" he asked Sirius. The only person who was there when Tim and Mundungus arrived was Sirius, so this 'Kreacher' must have not been too involved in the Order.

"House-elf," Sirius grumbled. "About as polite as the portrait of my mum upstairs." Tim thought that he himself would probably be a little rude if he'd been enslaved his whole life, but he decided not to share this hot take with Sirius.

"So, what do you do with your spare time, cooped up in here?" asked Tim.

Sirius shrugged. "Well, whenever Moony decides to grace me with his presence, I drink with him…"

Across the table, Remus frowned. "Sirius, you know I'm busy with work for the Order." To this, Sirius mumbled some combination of curse words and an apology.

"But Buckbeak's here year-round, so I usually drink with him. He's good company."

Again, Tim found himself asking, "And…who is Buckbeak?"

"Hippogriff," he said, pointing at the ceiling. "He stays up in my mum's old room."

Tim took a moment to process these words. "Do I get to know why you have a hippogriff living in your house?"

"Long story short, he's wanted, just like me." Sirius shoved a spoonful of cobbler into his mouth. "We like to stick together." This Sirius Black just kept on getting more and more interesting.

"And, what do the rest of you do?" Tim asked, hoping to direct the conversation away from Sirius. He didn't exactly want to delve into the fact that the only activity that Sirius had mentioned was drinking.

"Well, I'm an Auror," said Tonks, puffing out her chest a little.

"I work full-time for the Order," said Remus, clearly avoiding eye contact with Sirius.

"And I'm a mother of seven," said Molly, which was by far the most impressive job of the three.

As if agreeing with Tim's thoughts, Tonks swallowed her food and stated, "The most demanding job of them all, in my opinion. Especially considering that two of them are Fred and George."

Molly sighed, shaking her head. Then, like she was a shark that had just caught the scent of blood, she jerked her head up and glared at Tim.

"Those two haven't been getting into any trouble, have they?" she said quickly, narrowing her eyes.

Hmm, let's see…They gave me a set of Dungbombs and were shopping at a joke store, they're joining Harry's anti-Umbridge club, and they threatened another student with some sharp instrument of unknown origins.

"Not that I'm aware of," Tim told her politely.

"Well, they better not be—" A loud clang from upstairs cut her off, and it reverberated through the air for half a minute.

"Good Lord, is it one o'clock already?" she gasped. "You should probably be heading back, Tim. If we keep you here any longer, you might get left behind in Hogsmeade. Just a moment." With a flick of her wand, the food began to pack itself up into a set of plastic containers that she had conjured out of thin air. Once they had stacked themselves on top of each other, she gave a final wave, and everything was neatly packed into two cloth bags.

"Would you mind taking this back for the kids?" she asked Tim, gesturing to the leftovers. "They all simply adore lasagna. And some for Harry and Hermione, of course." Tim nodded, not expecting to leave so soon. Well, before, he had expected to leave sooner, but now, it was as though Tim had prepared himself to spend the night.

"No problem." He looked around at the other adults in the room. "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly am I getting back?"

Tonks stood up, raising her hand excitedly like she was ready to answer a teacher's math question. "I'll take you back." No one objected to this, so Tim shrugged and began to put back on his scarf and coat.

"Sorry about this whole mix-up," he said. "And thank you for the food, Mrs. Weasley, it was spectacular. And, uh, thanks for not killing me."

"Thanks for not killing us either," Sirius joked, hitting Tim on the back. "Say, tell Harry I said hi and that I'm super proud of his new club."

"Sirius!" cried Molly, putting her hands on her hips. "We shouldn't encourage this sort of behavior!" She turned to Tim, all traces of reprimanding gone. "Tim, dear, if you wouldn't mind, tell my kids that they are on no account whatsoever to take part in this illegal Defense Against the Dark Arts group and that, if they do, they'll be expelled for sure, and that they'll—oh, give me a moment." She summoned a piece of parchment and a quill and hastily wrote down an entire paragraph reprimanding her children, all in impeccable cursive.

"Give this to Ron or Ginny, all right?" she said, folding the parchment and handing it to Tim.

"Sure…" Tim tucked it away in one of his coat pockets. Then, out of the blue, Molly went up to Tim and enveloped him in a giant hug—like, almost a Dick-Grayson-level hug. For a second, Tim was too surprised to say or do anything, but then instinct took hold, and he hugged her tightly back, as though Dick was right there in front of him.

"Be safe, dear," said Molly with the tenderness and affection of someone who had known Tim his entire life. "Please don't join that club. And make sure to eat well, okay?"

"O-okay…" Tonks was right. He had been adopted. Again.

After Molly finally pulled away (Tim tried to hold the hug for even a second longer, but to no avail), Tim grabbed a bag in each hand and turned to Tonks.

"Ready, kid?" she asked, hooking her arm around his own.

"Yep."

And before Tim could change his mind, he was standing in front of the Hog's Head, this time, not feeling quite so dizzy. He turned to his left to thank Tonks for the Side-Along Apparition, but she had already disappeared with another crack.

Tim took a moment to catch his breath, and then he walked over to the side-alley and picked up his pack of Dungbombs that were right where he had left them.

"TIM!"

The instant Tim entered Honeydukes, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him back and forth. Hands full with leftovers, Tim was unable to stop this attack.

Purdie released Tim's shoulders and immediately grabbed the boy's face with both hands, turning it back and forth like he expected to see facial injuries. "Tim, where have you been? You up and vanished right as the meeting ended!"

"I…" Tim looked down at his bags and then back up at Purdie. "I was at the Three Broomsticks. For lunch."

"For two and a half hours?"

Tim laughed nervously. He hadn't planned on meeting up with any of his Ravenclaw friends so soon after his return. "Yep. I got a ton so that I could bring it back to the dorms and eat it later."

Purdie opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but then he stopped, took one long look at Tim, and then closed his mouth.

"I—wow, you eat a lot. And now you're here for, what, dessert?"

Tim shrugged. "Why not?" He took a moment to take in the shop before him. It was jam-packed with students, all talking at once in a cacophonic sugar-high. And they had every reason to. This place was a dead ringer for the Cane's Candy Co. in Old Gotham, except this place had more sugared butterflies flying around and the occasional exploding bonbon.

Even though Steph was the only one to whom Tim had originally planned to send sweets, he found himself unconsciously picking out items for each family member back at home: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans for Dick, Chocolate Cauldrons for Jason, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum for Cass, Fizzing Whizzbees for Duke, Chocoballs dipped in Bat's Blood Soup for Damian (Bat's Blood Soup, Damian's sure to get a kick out of that), Ice Mice for Alfred, those curious Exploding Bonbons for Bruce…

Needless to say, Tim ended up buying much, much more than he had initially expected.

At Tomes and Scrolls, Tim ran into Cordelia, who seemed equally relieved to know that Tim was okay. Her line of questioning was not nearly as thorough as Purdie's, though, as she was eager to show Tim around and browse the books.

Tim wasn't sure he'd ever grow tired of ancient, musty bookstores with dusty shelves and gilded book covers. Tomes and Scrolls was a 'specialty bookshop,' meaning that it carried a bunch of old, first-edition copies of a wide variety of genres. Tim had to do a double-take when he passed by a book on display titled 'Hazael Hirst and the Breakable Vow.' It seemed like Hazael Hirst was the wizards' equivalent to Sherlock Holmes. Tonks's comparison from earlier suddenly made a lot more sense.

By the time they were done, Tim found himself again in possession of a great many more books than he had intended. He had ended up purchasing several Hazael Hirst books, along with two books about Herbology and an old star chart that was still accurate three thousand years after its creation.

It was about an hour until students were required to head back to Hogwarts, and Tim was on a mission to locate Harry, Hermione, and Ron and pass along the Order members' messages and cooking. If he could find them before they had to go back, that would be ideal, given that Tim didn't trust the Hogwarts paintings to keep their mouths' shut about sensitive information.

He walked along the snowy path, eliminating in his head the places they were less likely to be. The Hog's Head was off the beaten path for Hogwarts students, meaning that they tend to stick to the High Street and the shops there. None of them have expressed any interest in joke products, that's more up the Weasley twins' alley, but everyone likes Honeydukes. Not to mention that this is their first time in Hogsmeade this year, so they're probably eager to stock up on sweets. If the trio stopped by shops on the way back from the Hog's Head, they would have to walk all the way back towards the Hog's Head to reach Honeydukes, since the shop is past the pub's side street. And, if they spent ten or so minutes in each shop that would potentially interest them, they would have hit Honeydukes by lunchtime. Harry and Ron would be eager to enter, but Hermione would probably suggest that they get lunch first, meaning they'd go down to the Three Broomsticks Inn. Then, to get back to Honeydukes, they'd have to pass by all the other shops. Again, Honeydukes would reasonably be their last stop.

Unless, of course, they decided to stop there first and then go down the street without turning around. In that case, maybe Three Broomsticks should be my first stop. But that brings up another problem—should I walk all the way down, or should I check shops starting at Honeydukes and going north?

Honeydukes it was. Tim could start there and work from—

"Tim!" called Hermione from a few shops down the road, waving her hand in the air to signal him. "Hey!"

Well, problem solved.

He waved back, making his way over to the three, who were all bearing bags filled with their purchases. Harry and Hermione had two overflowing bags each, while Ron cradled a small paper bag in his hands.

"How are you liking Hogsmeade?" she asked, sniffling through a rosy nose.

"It's amazing," said Tim, which was true, but he was also trying to move the conversation along. "Say, could I talk with the three of you? In private?"

"How private are we talking?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Just the four of us. No one else."

"Shrieking Shack it is," Harry decided, and, before Tim could question why Hogsmeade's favorite haunted house was the ideal meeting spot, the trio headed down the road towards the mountains, so Tim followed wordlessly.

They went up a windy, unbeaten path towards a wooden shack that must have been held up purely by magic, given the odd angles at which the walls intersected and the unstable foundation. The windows and doors were boarded up, just like any haunted house worth its salt. Tim was getting some serious House of Mystery vibes. Shack of Mystery?

"We can't actually get in from here," Hermione told Tim when they passed by the front door and rounded the side of the shack. "It's just a good meeting place because no one ever comes up here. Now—" she brushed the snow off of a large rock and sat down, "—what's this all about, Tim?"

Tim took a deep breath. This was going to take a while. Might as well just dive in head-first. "Okay, so I may or may not have accidentally Side-Apparated my way into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

The trio was deadly silent for a moment, and they all looked at each other and then back at Tim.

"Come again?" said Ron, a tremor in his voice.

"I accidentally Side-Apparated my way into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

"What?!" they shrieked in unison. Tim sighed. Yeah, this was going to take a while.

"Okay, so remember that witch sitting by the fire in the Hog's Head?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, just as Ron and Harry answered with a confused, "No…?"

"Well, I don't know if you noticed (they definitely hadn't, or else the meeting would have ended a whole lot sooner), but she was super shady."

Hermione looked at Tim, puzzled. "How so?"

Of course he'd have to go through all this again. Maybe Tim was just too used to being around Bruce, who never needed Tim to explain his deductive reasoning.

"Well, there were a lot of things. She kept on shifting in her seat whenever you'd start talking, Harry, and not once did she take a sip from her drink."

"Not while you were looking at her," Hermione countered. "Just because you didn't see her drink—"

"No, no, listen, the head had completely dissolved, and it was clinging equally to the entire interior of the glass." This statement, which Tim had thought would satisfy them enough for him to continue, only brought him three blank stares.

"I'm sorry, what?" said Hermione.

Okay, time to move on. They were getting nowhere. "I—okay, long story short, that witch was acting suspicious. I suspected that she was listening in on our meeting. So, just as you were getting people to sign your little contract, she got up to leave, so I followed her to find out who she was reporting to. Make sense so far?"

"For the sake of finishing the story, let's say it does," she replied.

"So, I followed her to a side alley next to the Hog's Head and jumped her."

"You what?" Ron looked very interested in the story all of a sudden.

"Jumped her. Demanded to know why she was listening in on us. But she must have been about to Apparate away when I ambushed her because I didn't even have a chance to finish my question before she teleported me into this ancient-looking house. Someone Stunned me, and the next thing I know, I'm getting interrogated by a bunch of adults, including Professors McGonagall and Snape."

He continued on, ignoring the three's stunned expressions and questions that were beginning to form on their lips. "Thankfully, Dumbledore showed up and we worked things out. Turns out the 'witch' was actually a man named Mundungus Fletcher who was sent to spy on you, Harry, by the Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with gloved hands. "Oh my god, he took you to Grimmauld Place!" Harry and Ron, after hearing this, also looked quite shocked.

"Yup. Anyways, Ron, your mom was there, and she made me lunch, so I brought back the leftovers for you and your siblings to munch on with you two." He turned to Harry and Hermione.

Ron eyed Tim suspiciously. "Leftovers?"

"Yeah. She made lasagna."

The boy's eyes widened substantially. "Oh, hell yes."

"So, you know about the Order now," Harry summed up, looking like he didn't quite know how to feel about this whole thing.

Tim nodded. "Yup. I also met your godfather."

"Sirius?" he said excitedly, his mood doing a complete one-eighty. "How is he?"

Well, he's drinking away his depression, from what I can tell…

"He's great. Wanted me to say hi to you and tell you how proud he is about you starting an illegal Defense Against the Dark Arts club."

Harry grinned wider than Tim had ever seen on him. "That's brilliant. Thanks, mate."

Tim set down his bags and produced the letter from his coat pocket, handing it to Ron. "Oh, and your mother wanted me to deliver this to either you or Ginny." He watched the redhead's eyes flit across the paper, his face gradually turning into a grimace.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"Mum's forbidden us from being a part of the Defense Against the Dark Arts club," he said, swallowing nervously. "Says it'll ruin our future." He glanced over at Hermione and Harry. "She also wants you two to know that she's against your being in it, too, but that she 'has no authority over you.'"

Harry paused for a moment. "We're…still doing it, though, right?"

Ron looked down at the letter and then back at Harry. "Yeah, of course we are. Now—" he shoved the letter into the back pocket of his pants, "—let's hear more about this lasagna…"

Tim: *tries to detective out where the kids are*
Hermione & Co: *were literally twenty feet away from him the whole time*
Hermione: yo sup Tim
Tim: *surprised Pikachu face*