Content warnings can be found at the end of this chapter.

The second day of the new year, Tim was set to give a presentation to the JLA about what he'd learned so far while undercover and what he proposed would be their next steps. He and Bruce arrived at the Watchtower a few minutes before the given meeting time, but it gave Tim just enough time to collect himself before heading in. He had no PowerPoint, no visual aid of any kind, really. He was just winging it, like any good Bat did.

"You got this, Tim," Bruce told him as they walked down the hall towards the main conference room. "Remember, you're in charge."

"Right," Tim breathed, a little shakier than he'd intended. He could command a group of teenagers with ease, but when it came to facing actual adults, Tim always got nervous. But he could do this! He had the information, he was in charge.

Just as Bruce was about to open the door, a red blur ran by him yelling, "NOT LATE!" and threw the door open. The fact that Bruce even managed to dodge the speedster as he zoomed into the room was truly a testament to all the man's training over the many years.

Once Barry had made his dramatic entrance, Bruce, never one to be shown up by another Leaguer, put on his cowl and tossed the door open, his cape flaring dramatically behind him.

"Drama queen," Tim coughed into his hand, but he followed Batman in nonetheless. Unlike Bruce, Tim didn't care much for masks outside of field work, so he didn't apply his, though he was still decked out in full Red Robin armor and had the mask stashed away in one of his pockets in case of an emergency.

"Tim!" Diana hopped out of her seat, slid across the table like it was the hood of her car, and scooped Tim into a tight hug. "It is good to see you, my boy!" She'd gotten better at not accidentally breaking her allies' bones while doling out physical affection, but Tim still felt like the wind was knocked out of him when she barreled into him.

"Good to see you too, Diana," he wheezed one she'd finally let him go.

"We missed you, kid," Oliver told him with wink.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "I, like, never come up here anyways."

"Hence the reason why we've missed you," Oliver countered brightly. "Also, Billy missed you a lot."

"Hi, Tim!" Shazam waved from across the room. "How's wizard school?"

"Insane," Tim replied with a smirk. "But fun. In a weird way." He caught sight of Bruce out of the corner of his eye, who tilted his head ever-so-slightly at Tim, which could mean a number of things depending on the context, but, for right now, meant that Tim was getting distracted.

"Right," Tim said, clapping his hands together. "Wizards. Buckle up, things are about to get confusing."

"First thing's first," he started, walking to the front of the room. "That dark wizard we've been hearing about who caused some problems in the past? He's back. Name's Voldemort. Constantine and I both confirmed it around the same time."

"And where is John Constantine right now?" J'onn asked plainly. Tim bit his lip, shooting a glance at Zatanna, who had summoned a chair for herself, not having a permanent seat (literally or figuratively) within the Justice League. She studied his gaze, a brief look of understanding flashing over her face before being replaced by the careful poker face of a professional stage magician.

"The last time I received a report from Constantine was November 3rd," Tim admitted, and he reached into his toolbelt and unfolded the letter, which he'd brought with him, as he'd expected the topic to arise.

He handed it to Arthur, who was closest to him and who gave one look at the letter and announced, "It's just a block of numbers."

"It's a code, genius," said Hal, snatching it from the other man's hands. "And a complicated one at that. Is this ASCII?"

"Good eye," Tim commented. "It's also got a Polybius Square thrown in to spice things up. The decrypted text is on the back."

Hal flipped it over. "'He—with two 'e's'—fears D. Good ally.' Is that all?"

"We like to keep them to-the-point," Tim explained.

"So, why do you think he hasn't responded?" asked Clark, expressing concern for the man.

"My best guess is that he's in a position where him sending back letters might be suspicious, so I decided not to send him any more until he responds to my most recent letter."

Shazam looked over at Tim with a tentative fear in his eyes. "Is there a possibility that he might be…?"

"Dead?" Tim supplied grimly, and Shazam nodded silently. "Yeah, there is. But I'm not going to assume the worst just yet. He's deep undercover. It's best to assume that he's been too busy to respond or simply forgot about replying." The alternative had definitely kept Tim up at night more times than he could count. If he thought on it too much…well, it wasn't healthy.

"Tell us about this 'D,'" Diana said, staring at the sheet of paper that had just been passed to her.

Tim nodded. "Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster at the magic school I'm attending. He is said to be the most powerful wizard of his time, and he currently heads an underground organization called the 'Order of the Phoenix,' which is working to prevent Voldemort's rise to power. As of October 5th, he is considered an ally of the JLA and is open to cooperating with you all."

"What is your impression of the man?" J'onn asked.

Tim took a moment to collect his many thoughts on the wizard and his role thus far in Voldemort's ascent to power. "He's very protective of others, especially the students and staff of Hogwarts—"

"Hog-what—?" Oliver started.

"It's the name of the school, don't freak out," Tim said quickly and then continued from where he'd left off. "He's protective and is incredibly trusting of some people and entirely secretive towards others. He's in a leadership position, which he has handled admirably, but he has trouble sharing power. Whether that's because he doesn't want others to shoulder the burden or because he has some kind of complex is unclear to me. What is clear is that he is very confident in his ideas, his abilities, and his plans, to the point of not ever feeling the need to explain many of his actions to others unless confronted directly and given no other choice.

"In summary? He's a valuable ally, a well-intentioned person, and a somewhat prideful leader." The Leaguers nodded, apparently pleased with Tim's diagnosis. Tim felt a sudden surge of confidence. This was going far better than he'd anticipated.

"And what of the other?" Zatanna asked. "Harry Potter?"

"Harry, right." A smile came to Tim's face when he thought about the boy, the rowdy boy that seemed to cause everyone so much trouble in the best and worst of ways.

"Harry's a fifteen-year-old wizard. He's connected to Voldemort in more than one way. First of all, there's a prophecy about him and Voldemort, so Voldemort's marked him as someone important to his plans. Harry also shares a mental connection with Voldemort, received when Voldemort attempted to kill him as a baby. This causes Harry to have visions of Voldemort's current actions from the man's perspective."

"And your impression of him?" Diana asked before J'onn could, and the alien almost looked put-out.

Tim chuckled softly to himself. "He's a real handful. He's just a regular teenager for the most part. Unfortunately, he's been dealt a particularly difficult hand for such an early stage in his life, and it's causing him to have to grow up faster than he'd probably like. He's not particularly book-smart, but he has good battle instincts and is exceptionally good at combative magic, both likely due to the numerous life-or-death circumstances in which he's found himself. I think that, at the heart of things, he's just a teenager who happens to be part of something much bigger than himself. Even so, he has a kind heart and a strong sense of justice. He leaves me with no doubt as to which side he's on in this upcoming war."

Kendra's wings flared slightly in response to her apprehension. "A war is coming?"

Tim sighed. "Unless we can take down Voldemort before he goes public, then, yeah, a war is coming."

"And what's preventing us from stopping him?" Dinah asked wisely. "You would've come to us sooner if you had a plan."

"From what I can gather," Tim told them, "Voldemort is immortal through some kind of dark magic and capable of regeneration upon death."

"Of course he is," Hal muttered. "'Cuz it can never be easy for us, can it?"

"Once we can pinpoint exactly what kind of spell was used, we can find a way to counteract it. I also have reason to believe that Voldemort's immortality is not guaranteed, so he's looking for other ways to stay alive. What's important is keeping him away from those sorts of things."

Barry tilted his head. "Such as…?"

"Such as Lazarus Pits and Philosopher's Stones," Tim explained. "And any other potential source of immortality you can think of."

"A connection to the Rock of Eternity would work," Shazam pointed out, "but it wouldn't allow rebirth. It's just your standard 'doesn't-age' immortality."

"Such is the case with Amazonians as well and our connection to Themyscira," Diana added. "Elsewise, I am unsure as to how he might accomplish this."

Tim nodded. "Basically, all we can do right now is research Voldemort's immortality, prevent him from obtaining it through other means, and stop him from rising up to greater power."

The meeting went on like this for another half hour or so, Tim answering people's questions about the limitations of magic (many), what sort of timetable Voldemort was on (unknown), and clues as to the whereabouts of Voldemort himself (somewhere in Britain, presumably), among other things. By the end of it, Tim finally, finally felt like his work at Hogwarts had not been in vain, that he was actually making a difference by being there, that everything he'd struggled through was worth it in the end. It was a great way to herald in the new year and, more importantly, Tim's next semester.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So, life."

"Ugh. Life."

Wren stood up and gave Tim a warm hug and helped him get off his coat and scarf. "I've missed you, Tim."

"I missed you, too. How was your break?"

Wren lit up and adjusted his glasses excitedly. "Thank you so much for asking, Tim, it was great! I finally got to meet Nathan's younger sisters, and they're all just as fiery as he is. Christmas was great, his mom made this incredible duck recipe for Christmas Day dinner, and we had Chinese take-out the night before, so good food all-around." He let out a little laugh. "Anyways, how was your break?"

Tim sat down and let out an amused sigh. "I did not realize I needed it until I came home, but boy, did I need it. God, I missed everyone so much."

Wren nodded along, giving Tim a fond smile and waiting for him to continue.

"Before I came back, it was bad. Like, the 'I'm-not-gonna-let-myself-relax-because-I-haven't-earned-it' kind of bad. I wasn't even planning on going home for break."

"Oof," Wren hissed. "What made you decide to come back?"

"That's the thing—I didn't. Zatanna and Damian came, and Damian literally tased me so that they could kidnap me back to Gotham."

Tim's therapist winced. "Does that kind of thing hurt? I've always wondered."

"Oh, totally. And the little demon probably enjoyed it, too. Actually, scratch that, I know he enjoyed it."

"What do you think caused yourself to get into such a bad state?"

And so Tim explained to Wren everything that had happened in his past semester. To Tim's relief, Wren seemed to react appropriately to each bit of news. He seemed thoroughly disgusted with Umbridge as a human being, was begrudgingly supportive of the D.A., and looked absolutely horrified when Tim explained his little unplanned trip to Nanda Parbat. Tim had tried explaining his unique relationship with Ra's al Ghul to Wren before, but he wasn't totally convinced that Wren understood it. Hell, Tim barely understood it himself. But the important thing was that Wren was there to validate his feelings on everything and let him know that it was okay to be confused, to not fully understand yourself. That was the kind of presence Tim needed in his life. Therapy truly was a godsend.

During the first full week of the new year, Tim received a veritable truckful of letters and packages via every species of owl known to man.

Dear Tim, the first one read,

I hope your winter break is going well. Imagine my surprise when the packages I left for you at Hogwarts were delivered to headquarters with a note from Dumbledore letting me know that they would now need to be sent to America! I'm so happy that you decided to head back home for the holidays, I really think it'll be good for you. I also wanted to let you know that Mr. Weasley is doing well and should be returning home by the 11th if he stops trying to mix Muggle and wizarding medicine.

Anyways, be prepared for lots of packages. Last time I checked, Ron, Harry, Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George, and Tonks were all planning on sending Christmas presents your way. Speaking of presents, thank you so very much for the copies of On Gamp and the Elements, Alchemists Through the Ages, and A Brief History of Time. I'm not quite sure how you knew that I've been wanting all of those for ages, but it was probably due to those detective skills of yours that I can never quite grasp. I also can't fathom how you managed to find first-edition copies of all of those and buy them, but I suppose I should always expect to be surprised by you. Harry and Ron are also telling me to thank you for their gifts. Ron seemed a little embarrassed at how much money you must have spent on the Firebolt before I reminded him that your father is a billionaire, and then he seemed quite all right with the purchase. The same probably goes for Harry and that Quidditch gear you got him. He's also very impressed with the phone you got him but admits that he will need you to teach him how to use it. All right, now everyone's asking me to put in thank you's. Fred and George say thank you for the Muggle lockpicking kit and promise to put it to good use, Ginny also promises to do the same with that book of hexes you got her and apologizes for not having gotten you a gift, though we've all assured her that you probably have more than enough gifts coming your way.

Okay, now that they're all gone, I just wanted to let you know how happy I am that you came to Hogwarts. I really treasure our friendship—it's nice to have a friend whom I can relate to on an intellectual level. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of this.

Say hi to your family from me, and I wish you a very happy holidays.

Love,

Hermione

Tim found himself grinning through the whole letter. He couldn't have been more pleased at how well everyone received his gifts. He'd spent nearly a week trying to come up with suitable presents for everyone, and he may or may not have panicked every day until receiving this letter that the gifts he left with Dumbledore had somehow not made it to Grimmauld Place.

He really shouldn't have been surprised, but the number of gifts he received from friends from Hogwarts was truly astounding. Hermione had sent him a copy of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, which Tim already owned but vowed never to reveal this to her for courtesy's sake, as the gesture was much appreciated nonetheless. The Weasleys sent him a blue knitted sweater with the letter 'T' stitched in brown, which Tim could honestly say was the most comfortable piece of clothing he now owned (and if that wasn't enough, they also sent him several mince pies because why not?). Fred and George had sent him samples of a product they were hoping to sell in their future joke shop called 'Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,' exported, as one might expect, from a community of wizards in Peru. He'd received gifts from the Ravenclaw trio, most notably a Hindi language-learning book from Aruna, which Tim wasn't sure if it was a jab at him for not knowing the language or if she genuinely assumed that he wanted to learn it.

He also received a handful of gifts from people he wasn't expecting. Tonks, like Hermione had warned, had sent him a giant package of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in twelve different flavors which she ordered Tim to share with his family. He also received a book about wizarding cryptids from Luna Lovegood, which came as a surprise to him, as he personally didn't feel he knew the girl particularly well.

Hey, Tim, another letter started,

Thank you so much for those enchanted knitting needles! I've always wanted a pair, but I've only ever found those ones that scream at you if you skipped a stitch, not like the nice ones you gave me, they're much less obtrusive.

How's your break going? How's the fam? How's the S.O.? I was so happy to learn that you ended up going back to the States for break! I hope you're doing well.

My break's been pretty normal, all things considered. My dad wasn't able to get the time off for Christmas :((( but his sister came by the house Christmas Eve and ended up staying the night, so she and my mom and I all got to spend Christmas together :)))

I can't wait to see you again next semester. There's a lot I want to talk about. Stay safe and have a great winter break!

Sincerely,

Purdie B.

Tim smiled, setting the letter aside. Apparently, word of his last-minute decision to head home (or kidnapping, depending on your point of view) had spread when everyone's gifts they'd left for him got sent back to their houses. Tim hadn't even known people had left him gifts until someone informed him that people gave their gifts to the house-elves, who kept ahold of them and set them out at the foot of each person's bed for Christmas morning, the closest they would ever get to being what a Muggle might consider an 'elf.'

Out of all the gifts from Christmas and the trinkets from Hannukah (the Waynes had saved Tim's gifts even though he'd missed a good chunk of the week), Tim's favorite was finally, finally getting to put on the Red Robin suit again and go patrolling with the Bats.

On the first Sunday of the year, he and Dick were on patrol together, and, after thwarting an attempted mugging without much fanfare, they both grappled to the top of Wayne Tower, disabled the appropriate alarms, and spent awhile just catching up with one another.

"So, you've got this club, you're writing with Constantine, who hasn't written back in forever, you're still sending Bruce reports about new ideas for WayneTech, you're befriending a ton of people at once, you're watching this 'Umbridge' woman and keeping an eye on her actions…" Dick looked up at Tim. "Am I forgetting anything?"

Tim winced, shaking his head. "No, I think you got it all."

Dick put a gloved hand on Tim's shoulder. "So, do you have any time to just, you know…be?"

Tim thought back to the countless sleepless nights he'd had over the past semester, most notably since he'd returned from Nanda Parbat. He thought of the stack of letters that he'd eventually shoved under his bed because it felt like too much effort to read all of them. He thought about the nights he lay in bed awake because he had a million things running through his mind concerning the mission as a whole.

"Not—not really, no," he sighed, feeling embarrassment begin to creep up on him.

"That's okay," Dick told him, but then he made a face and shook his head. "I mean, no, it's not okay that you're not giving yourself any free time, but it's okay because we can change that."

"How?" Tim breathed, ever desperate for Dick's advice, for some way out of the hole he'd dug himself into.

"Well, don't work during mealtimes. That's just wasting a perfectly good break." Dick paused. "And, you could always do what Wren told me to do."

"What's that?"

"The next time you find yourself thinking that you need to be doing something, just take five minutes and do some breathing exercises. Then, give yourself another five minutes. And then, after that's done, give yourself another five minutes. While you're doing that, start going through a new list—a list of things you like to do, versus things that you think you have to be doing. Try picking something from that list and see how it goes."

Tim drunk in Dick's words like they were coming straight from an oasis, nodding along and mentally repeating the man's words as he said them.

On Monday, Tim was paired up with Jason, and the two of them were in the middle of a drug bust when Jason shot a man in the thigh and then asked Tim, "So, make any good friends yet at school?"

Tim, not used to talking while fighting off gang members, took a moment to flip the nearest thug over and then shot Jason a withering look. "Really, we're doing this now? Aren't we kind of, I dunno, busy?"

"Speak for yourself, kid. This is like a light workout for me." He flipped his gun around in his hand and shot blindly at a man behind him, who instantly crumpled to the ground with a pained gasp. "Not my fault you're out of practice."

"I'm—not—out of—practice—!" Tim said in between gasps of air. He would rather have a one-on-one with Bane than admit to Jason that he was, in fact, out of practice.

"Sure, sure. Tell me about your friends."

Tim knocked a guys knees with his bo staff and narrowly avoided a bullet to the chest. "Well, there's Aruna. She's—(he dodged a punch to the gut)—quiet, except when she decides not to be. And Purdie's really—sweet, he's just—genuine. And—Cordelia's—she's super smart but also really—athletic—shit!" He winced as someone got in a hit on his side, the assailant taken out immediately afterwards by Jason.

"That all?" Jason asked, reloading his gun while kicking his opponent down to the ground.

"No—" Turning around, Tim crouched down and swept a pair of feet with his staff. "There's also Hermione. She's also—a total intellectual, you'd—you'd love her—and she gets surprisingly—passionate about things—again, just—just like you. And Ron's another one you'd like—he's got this stubborn streak—and he can't stand it when people—are suffering—he's not a bystander. And then there's—Harry—oof, he's a handful—but he's a real fighter—got a rebellious streak to rival yours—and he's really protective of—of his friends."

Jason gave Tim a thumb's-up. "Good to hear, squirt. Being alone—isolated, really—doesn't do anyone any favors." He kicked a man in the shins and shoved him over. "And it's good to recognize that you're not alone, 'cuz you're definitely not. Don't forget that, kid."

On Tuesday, Tim and Cass spent a good majority of their patrol giving directions to lost tourists (and the occasional Gothamite who was too tired to deal with the confusing numbering and naming system that was Old Gotham's streets), so they had lots of time to talk.

"I like seeing you like this," she signed to him as they sat on a bench in Robinson Park together, watching the fountains work their magic.

"Like what?" Tim asked, making sure his face echoed the confusion he was feeling.

"Being yourself," she explained. "You're oddly free when you wear the mask."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. It's good when you don't have all the expectations weighing you down."

"Whose expectations?" Cass asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Well…" Tim thought back to a previous conversation he'd had with Wren. "Most of them aren't real, but my anxiety convinces me that they're a major problem."

"Your anxiety sounds like it needs me to punch it," she generously offered.

"That's all right, they're pretty scared of you anyways. They don't like to act up when you're around."

"Have they been acting up at school?"

Tim let out an involuntary laugh, and not a pretty one. It was strained and a little wet, like he was two sentences away from bursting into tears.

"Yeah, they're really loud at school. It's hard to be all of myself."

"Tell me what they say, and I'll tell you that they're wrong."

Tim sighed. "I dunno, they're pretty stupid."

"That makes my job easier," Cass assured him.

"They…they say a lot about me. About how I dress. About how I talk. About how I carry myself. They're pretty strict about what I can and can't do in certain company."

"Who put them in charge?"

"They put themselves in charge."

"Aren't you supposed to be in charge?" Cass suggested.

"They're very loud. But I'm getting better at tuning them out."

"That's good to hear. No one should tell you how to be yourself."

On Wednesday, Duke took a rare night patrol so he could spend some time out in the field with Tim, or so he said. Tim guessed it was so the two could talk one-on-one without another sibling interrupting. Luckily, they were both assigned a stakeout of one of Two-Face's hideouts, so they had plenty of time to talk while waiting for something to happen.

Duke seemed rather overwhelmed by everything Tim told him about Hogwarts and the wizarding world in general.

"So, the staircases move, the pictures talk to you, there are ghost teachers, and somehow you haven't gone insane?"

Tim chuckled. "Sometimes it's a lot. It's a whole new environment. But I'm getting used to it. I'm undercover, so I can't exactly afford to react to everything new that comes my way."

"Dude, if there's one thing I've learned while being a vigilante, it's that it's fine to be overwhelmed."

"Oh, I'm overwhelmed every day," Tim told him. "Sometimes I just want to scream at everyone that the wizarding world sucks. But I don't."

"When we get back to the Cave, let's make a stop at the gym, and then you can scream at me about all the whack things that wizards do," Duke promised him. "And then, we can—oh shit, is that one of Two-Face's guys?" He asked, pointing off towards the right side of the warehouse.

Tim followed his hand and only needed a glance to affirm that, yes, that was, in fact, one of Two-Face's goons, and, yes, they needed to get over there as quickly as possible.

"Think about it, Tim," said Duke as the two of them stood up and grabbed their grappling guns. "A healthy amount of screaming is good for the soul."

Tim grinned. "Thanks. I think I may just take you up on that offer."

On Thursday, Tim was scheduled to patrol with Damian, always a dangerous decision on Bruce's part. The two were just as likely to break out into a fight as they were to take down an entire crime syndicate by themselves. Today happened to be one of their better days. They spent a good part of the night tailing one of the Penguin's lackeys towards a potential mystery ally, so the two spent most of the time running across rooftops and swinging across the city. Once their target had finally reached his destination, Tim and Damian set up listening devices around the venue to try and pick up as much information as possible.

The two had been listening to the conversation for a while when the client mentioned something about "useless retards" in reference to the long-term patients of Arkham Asylum that had both Damian and Tim frowning.

"This person is highly uneducated," Damian sneered, his face scrunched up. "I doubt they have any true understanding of mental health disorders."

"Yeah, they should meet Snape, they'd probably get along," Tim muttered.

Damian raised an eyebrow. "A classmate of yours, I presume?"

"Teacher, actually," Tim explained grimly. "I swear, the dude's got it out for the neurodivergent population at Hogwarts. He once called out a girl with ADHD for 'not paying attention' to his directions when she clearly has trouble reading. He's apparently been responsible for multiple panic attacks from his students. I can't stand people like that."

Damian bit his lip, fidgeting a little on his perch on the edge of the roof. "People can be incredibly ignorant about those sorts of things. Sometimes—sometimes they don't always know what they're saying. Or doing." Tim could hear the unspoken implication Damian was making. He thought back to a different time, a time when Damian would call Tim 'lazy' for not being able to get himself out of bed some days or attribute Cass's silence to an 'undeveloped brain.' It had taken a while to erase that kind of mindset from the boy's head. The fact that Damian was even owning up to his past ignorance right now was more than a testament to how far he'd come.

Tim sighed. Since when had Damian been the one to preach 'mercy?' "Yeah, good point. Maybe he needs an intervention. He didn't grow up in an era where mental health problems were really acknowledged, to be fair."

"Sometimes," Damian said softly, "people need a second chance."

Maybe Tim was being too harsh on the man. Maybe not. But Damian's argument still stood. How was Tim supposed to know if the man was capable of change if Tim never even gave him an opportunity?

Damian made a face. "I think the client just called Miss Isley a slut."

Tim cracked his knuckles and stood up. "Okay, some people deserve a second chance, but I'm beating this bitch's ass the minute we have the information we need."

"On that," Damian nodded, standing up alongside him, "we are in agreement."

That Thursday night, the day before Tim had to leave to go back to Grimmauld Place to check in with the Order and eventually head back to school, the Bats made sure to make one of their traditional coffee runs at Sundollar. And, to make things even better, Bruce actually made an appearance this time, which initially startled their normal baristas (Nightwing was one thing, but Batman?), but they'd gotten over it quickly enough to get them their orders in spectacular time for being the only two people currently on-shift.

"All right, I've got a venti hot chocolate with extra foam and chocolate curls, a—Jesus—five-shot triple ristretto espresso with a pump of vanilla syrup, a venti almond milk chai latte, a tall decaf caffe mocha with a mocha drizzle, a grande caramel macchiato with whipped cream, sprinkles, and chocolate curls, a venti caffe americano with a splash of cream and 4 long shots of espresso, a grande caffe latte with three pumps of hazelnut syrup, and a grande single-shot whole milk cappuccino with two pumps of pistachio sauce and a caramel drizzle, all for 'Night King?'"

"Xander!"

The barista laughed, pushing the drinks forward. "Kidding, kidding. It's for Nightwing." Dick rolled his eyes, or at least appeared to, seeing as said eyes were masked right now, and snatched up his drink.

"To be fair," said Duke, sipping his coffee, "'Night King' is an objectively cooler superhero name than 'Nightwing.'"

"Signal raises a good point," Steph agreed, lifting up her cup as if toasting his idea.

"Yeah, but imagine all the Game of Thrones references the headlines would have," Jason countered, taking off his own helmet and setting it down on the table people had begun to sit at. "'Black Bat and the Other Save the Day Again.'"

"'Bats' Night Watch Ends Disastrously, more at ten,'" Tim added with a smirk.

"Think of the Buzzfeed articles," Jason added. "'Five Times that Deathstroke was the Arya Stark to the Batman's Night King.'"

"I think you've proven why Nightwing is a better name than 'Night King,'" Dick cut in before his brothers could get started on more Game of Thrones-based banter. They'd all watched the finale together as a family, they knew Dick's thoughts on the last season.

"Thoughts, B?" Steph asked, handing the Dark Knight his coffee. Bruce took a long, thoughtful sip, and the rest of his team waited with bated breath for his reply.

"It certainly wouldn't have been as big of a betrayal to the brand as 'Nightwing' was," he finally said in a monotone voice.

"Oooooh…" Tim and Jason said in unison, like Dick had broken another chandelier or something.

"Ouch," Dick winced, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly. "I wish I could say I regret the decision, but I don't. Not in the slightest."

"Coffee's on you, tonight," Bruce grunted.

Nightwing twirled around his credit card in between his fingers. "Lucky for me, my card's connected to your account, so I will gladly pay tonight." He held up his cup in the air. "A round of croissants on me!"

"Hell yeah!" cheered Duke, hurrying up to the counter where the other barista, Veronica, was already pulling out a heap of chocolate croissants from the fridge.

"Well, that backfired spectacularly," Jason muttered over his drink with a smirk.

Tim shrugged. "I'm sure B will find some way to route the bill back to Nightwing's civilian account, assuming Nightwing doesn't draft Oracle into secretly routing it right back."

It had been almost half a year since Tim's last Sundollar run with his family, and he made sure to drink his coffee extra slowly to maximize the time with his family. It certainly helped that Dick kept on yelling out random menu items for people to munch on every ten minutes. Thankfully, the two baristas who were always on the night shift at this particular Sundollar were more than used to the antics of the Bats and were pretty good at keeping the tab running all night like the family was out drinking. Since Bruce would usually never take part in any kind of alcohol, this was about the closest they would get to having drinks with their father.

"Celebrating something tonight?" Veronica asked, pushing Damian his third croissant across the counter. "You all seem unusually rowdy."

"It's Red Robin's last night here," Steph explained. "He's been on a mission in Britain."

"Seriously? That's sick. No wonder I haven't seen him in a while."

"I assure you, there have been plenty a time I've wanted to come and grab a drink here," Tim admitted. "For a chain restaurant, you guys are surprisingly good at cranking out quality coffee."

"It's an art form," Xander said, bowing superfluously. "It takes years of practice to achieve the kind of work Veronica and I pour out."

"She's only worked here for ten months," Damian pointed out, narrowing his eyes and shoving a finger at the worker accusingly. Veronica looked startled for a moment but then burst into laughter.

Nightwing ruffled Damian's hair, a feat only the oldest brother was allowed to get away with. "He's joking, Robin."

"Tt. Right. Of course."

Tim couldn't help but smile at his little brother. Despite all of his social progress, the boy still sometimes had trouble reading a situation, and it was more endearing at this point than anything else.

To be fair, everything happening right now seemed to endear Tim. The way that the whipped cream stuck to Steph's upper lip, Jason wolfing down croissants like he hadn't made them dozens of times at the Manor with Alfred, Cass pulling down her mask ever-so-slightly to blow on her hot chocolate—this was Tim's family. He wanted to remember this moment, keep it tucked in the back of his mind forever. Maybe then would his second semester at Hogwarts be more bearable than the first.

And it certainly would be. But it would also be a hell of a lot more exciting.

If only Tim knew what was in store for himself.

If you can successfully match each Sundollar order to its respective Bat, not only will I give you a shout-out, but, even more incredible, you will have my unflinching respect, something not so easily won.

CW: use of a mental health slur in dialogue