Content warnings can be found at the end of this chapter.
Tim felt trapped in several ways over the next week. Cordelia and Purdie kept on cornering him and apologizing for their completely-justified confrontation and kept letting Tim know that he "wasn't alone" for some reason and that they "didn't want him to leave," neither of which Tim felt particularly inclined to believe, especially considering that Aruna kept avoiding eye contact with him and him alone. Tim wanted to believe them, sure, especially after all those nice things Aruna said about him back at Nanda Parbat, but he knew that if he got too close to them again, they'd start asking questions, questions which Tim was, frankly, too afraid to answer, too afraid to feel accepted again and then have that harshly taken away from him when they found out that it was totally his fault that Aruna was traumatized and that Tim was just a fake who didn't deserve to be here—
So, Tim avoided the Ravenclaw trio whenever possible. And, sure, he wanted to tell Hermione about Dumbledore's spell and tell her, Ron, and Harry about the horcruxes, but Harry kept sending Tim suspicious looks every time he tried to approach them, so Tim took the message and stayed away.
And, for a while, it actually worked. Tim hung out almost exclusively with Luna, who kept innocently encouraging him to speak to his classmates again but was otherwise great company, and he kept sharing those stupid tea parties with Umbridge.
But then Aruna just had to show up in the common room late one night when it was just Tim around.
Tim hadn't expected her to say anything to him—even if she were to speak, it certainly wouldn't be to him—but after sitting off near the old, enchanted piano for a solid half-hour, she ended up getting up and approaching Tim. She sat down on the ground directly in front of him, and, for the first time in weeks, she looked him in the eyes.
"I'm sorry," she told him.
Tim's immediate reply was, "Don't be," because if anyone needed to apologize, it was him.
"I needed time to process. I was afraid," she continued, shrugging off Tim's comment far easier than he would have liked.
"Rightfully so," said Tim. "You don't have to apologize for that."
She shook her head. "I let you believe that I blame you for what happened to us. I don't."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should," Tim snapped, his tone harsher than he'd planned.
She frowned. "We don't want you to leave," she said slowly, forming her words carefully. Speaking in complete sentences like this was a lot for her, and Tim knew it wasn't easy. "Purdie and Cordelia were just…worried for me. They…know you're a good person, and they knew…that there must have been good reason for why you lied to us. We just wanted to know why. We never meant to hurt you."
Tim snorted and ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "Dammit, Aruna, don't try to twist this thing. I'm the one who hurt all of you. I should have never gotten close to you guys." He gripped his hair tightly, weeks of stress that he'd bottled up all coming out now. "Listen, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not a real wizard, I'm not a real student, I'm just here because I needed information on how to stop Voldemort. That's all. Go off and tell that to Purdie and Cordelia. I don't even care anymore."
After a moment of silence, Aruna let out a soft sigh. "I didn't tell them why the Ra's al Ghul kidnapped you," she said quietly. "That's why they were so worried. Because I didn't tell them you're a superhero."
"Yeah, well, feel free to tell them now. At least you all will stop pretending to be my friends after that." He quickly got up and hurried up the stairs to his dormitory before Aruna could make another argument. It was terrible etiquette, but Tim wasn't trying to be polite anymore. He just wanted to be left alone.
Tim stopped hanging out with Luna after that. He basically stopped participating in class, and then, one day, he just decided he wasn't going to go to classes anymore. What was the point? He was going to be leaving here soon anyways. As soon as he got that stupid curse off his body, he was gone. And, hey, maybe if he stopped going to classes, the teachers would have no choice but to throw him out, and he could be on his merry way.
The logic was sound in Tim's mind, but Tim's so-called "logic" was always flimsy when he was in a depressive state. As was normally the case, Tim would only realize this after he was out of this slump. At least he still had the common sense to continue taking his meds. If he started skipping on those, things would take a downward turn real fast.
There was no need to talk to his friends, there was no need to go to class, and, eventually, there was no need to get out of bed.
"Hey, Tim," he heard Purdie say from nearby his bed one day. "I brought you some lunch. I just wanted to let you know that Cordelia and Aruna are really worried about you. So's Harry and Ron and Hermione."
Tim made no movement under the covers. Just pretend you're asleep, then he'll go away.
"I know you probably don't want to talk, but you're much better at History of Magic than I am, so I thought I'd just write my paper next to you and hope that some of your talent will radiate off of you and help me figure this out."
Tim heard the now-familiar sound of a quill scratching against parchment, and somehow it was comforting to him. He wasn't sure how long he just lay in bed, hidden under his blankets, and listened to Purdie work on his homework.
"I still think it's fucked up that there's a whole Code of Conduct for werewolves," Purdie commented at some point.
Tim completely agreed with this sentiment, and he was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming need to let Purdie know this. However, he was still crippled with the need to not let any noises come out of his mouth. The two warring ideals in his head culminated into a common practice Tim exercised when he was too tired to talk but wanted to say something. He quietly slipped his arm off the side of his bed, out from under the sheets, and folded three of his fingers down to his palm. He twisted his hand so that his pinkie was pointing to where Tim thought Purdie was probably sitting, and he shook his hand back and forth.
If any other Wayne was in the room, they would have immediately recognized the gesture for what it was: Tim was agreeing with Purdie in ASL.
Purdie, however, was no Wayne. After a moment of silence, the boy said, "Huh. Is that 'yes' in ASL or something? It can't be a 'no,' because I know you agree with me. Werewolf legislation is super speciesist. I wonder if Binns will mark me off if I slip that into my paper."
I don't even think he reads our papers, Tim thought to himself.
For the rest of the afternoon, Purdie sat next to Tim and chatted with him while doing homework. Tim desperately wanted to know why Purdie would willingly skip class just to sit with Tim, but he wasn't sure how to convey that with signs that Purdie might grasp.
"I'm taking a wild guess here and saying that you're nonverbal today," Purdie said as he presumably started packing away his stuff. "I get it, Cori gets like that sometimes. If you want, you can just sign, even if I won't understand it. Sometimes, Aruna speaks in Hindi even though she knows no one will understand her."
Damian did that, too, but the boy seemed to often forget that the majority of the Wayne household was actually fluent in Ra's al Ghul's creole Arabic that his family spoke.
"Anyways, I'm heading off back to class, but if you're hungry, Ron tells me that the house-elves will make you anything you want in under five minutes if you want. I have no clue where the kitchens are, but that might be some incentive to get out of bed. Harry said that sometimes helps—you know, having something special waiting for you."
There was a scraping as the boy stood up from his chair. "Okay, I'll give you some you time. I'd pat your head, but I can't tell if you're up for that. Uh, just know that there are a lot of people who care for you and that we do that of our own free will and not out of a sense of obligation or pity. See you later, I guess."
"So…you guys can make…anything?"
The house-elves nodded. "Yes, master! Anything at all."
Tim sighed. "Please don't call me that. 'Tim' is fine. Anyways, could you recreate American fast food?"
"Yes, yes!" Dobby, easily the most distinct of all the house-elves, confirmed. "Anything for a friend of Harry Potter!"
The house-elves looked eager to please Tim, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and he was dragging a blanket behind him. A less-depressed Tim would have considered coming down here and asking for something "being a part of the problem." The Tim right now really wanted some comfort food.
"Could you make me an O'Burger and O'Fries like they make them at O'Shaughnessy's?" he asked quietly.
Three and a half minutes later, Tim was wandering the halls and munching on some thin, seasoned sweet potato fries. They were just as greasy and salty as the ones he'd get in Gotham. Tim felt like he would have smiled had he had the energy.
Having something special, huh… He found himself trekking up to the seventh floor, working out in his head how he wanted to do this. He could be in the Batcave, he could be in his bedroom, he could be in his house Downtown…
Take me to the Wayne Manor south parlor room…
Take me to the Wayne Manor south parlor room…
Take me to the Wayne Manor south parlor room…
The door to the Room of Requirement shrunk into a dark walnut door with a golden doorknob. As Tim studied the door, he took note of all the dents and scratches that matched those at the real Wayne Manor, all less than a year old, since that was when Alfred had had the doors refinished. Scars from where weapons had been thrown at the door carelessly. That dent near the doorknob from when Bruce and Jason had been moving that table from the library into the other parlor room and someone (probably Bruce) had accidentally run it into the door. The claw marks at the bottom that Alfred the cat was constantly getting scolded for even though Damian was convinced that they were Ace's fault.
When Tim walked in, his chest tightened. There was the couch, behind it was the old grand piano they'd salvaged from the original Wayne Manor, and the pair of armchairs that flanked the coffee table. Tim, however, was immediately drawn to the pile of books on one of the side tables. He sat down in the nearby armchair (oh God it even smelled the same) and picked up the book on the top.
Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right. Interesting. He set it aside and picked up the next book, The Holy Family. Below them were also The Poverty of Philosophy, Das Kapital, and Socialism: Utopian and Scientific.
Tim stared at the books for a couple second. He knew for a fact that these were all on Jason's reading list, grouped together under his 'Fuck Capitalism' tab.
Had…had Jason been reading these before the Room of Requirement had recreated the room? They certainly hadn't been out the last time Tim had been at the Manor, over winter break. As he stared at the gilded title on one of the books, his eyes began to get blurry.
These were Jason's. These were his brother's.
Tim dropped the book and curled up into a ball. God, he wanted to see Jason again. Jason, who always had the perfect book for Tim when he needed a distraction. Jason, who would plop down next to Tim and pull out his Switch and say, "Open up your island, Replacement, I've got oranges to sell." Jason, who would wait exactly two days before ignoring Tim's wishes and physically dragging him out of bed and down to the kitchen.
It wasn't that his other siblings weren't also there for him when he was depressed. It was just that Tim felt like he'd just missed Jason, like, if he'd been a couple minutes faster, he'd have caught his older brother in here.
Tim cried that night.
To Purdie's surprise, Tim showed up at breakfast that next morning, sitting down silently and unfolding The Daily Prophet and drinking three whole glasses of juice. When he made eye contact with Purdie, he simply pointed at his throat, which both told Purdie that Tim simply needed the liquids and that Tim was nonverbal again today.
Having grown up with a friend who he was ninety percent sure was on the autism spectrum, Purdie was used to Cordelia's nonverbal days. Usually, she'd write out words or phrases in the air with her wand, and, even in their first year, her genius had been obvious not only by the way she created her own spell to make wand movements leave a visible trails but also by the way she was able to write backwards in cursive. Tim didn't seem to want to write anything down, but he'd nod and shake his head when asked questions.
"Do you want to be spoken to?" Nod.
"Do you want a notebook to write things down?" Shake.
"Are you coming to classes today?" Nod.
"Do you want us to tell the teachers that you're nonverbal today?" Nod.
"Are you talking with the Gryffindors right now?" Shake.
Easter Break was in a couple of weeks, so teachers were really laying on the homework today, but none of the teachers called on Tim, so that was at least a plus (not like Binns ever called on anybody, but still). The approach of Easter Break also reminded Purdie that Tim had promised they'd be rid of him by that time, like Purdie and the others didn't care about him, like they weren't willing to forgive him for his lies, like their friendship was that shallow.
"Are you sure you want to leave?" Cordelia asked him after dinner that day, probably also thinking about it since the teachers wouldn't shut up about it for the past week. "You don't have to, you know. There are wards on the school that prevent people from getting in. Actually, there are seven layers of protection. There's the Muggle-Repelling Charms, of course…" As usual, she ended up starting to ramble, but she stared at Tim the whole time, like she thought this information would convince him to stay.
"It's safe here," Purdie summarized when the girl had finished, some three minutes later. "You don't have to protect us. Why're we doing all that training at the DA anyways?"
"Is there another reason you don't want to stay?" Aruna asked quietly, and they watched as Tim nodded.
The other boy cleared his throat and then spoke, his voice small and hoarse. "I've… finished my mission."
Purdie frowned. "Your…mission?" He knew Tim wasn't a real wizard, not like the rest of them, but an undercover agent? This was news to him.
Tim nodded. "I can help the war effort better outside of school."
"Oh," Cordelia said. "Well, that makes way more sense than the self-sacrificial nonsense. I'm not going to stop you if that's what you want. It's better than leaving out of some sense of guilt. And it's not like we can't keep in touch with you. I approve of your departure. Just let me know when you leave so I can say goodbye."
Purdie was shocked at her turnaround. "Wait, no, Tim, you shouldn't leave, you're our friend."
"Doesn't that mean we should respect his wishes?" Cordelia pointed out, tilting her head.
"No, it means he can't just abandon us!" Purdie argued. "Right?" He looked over at Aruna. "Right?" She shook her head.
"A friend gives you the freedom to be yourself," Aruna recited, like it was some kind of proverb he should know.
"Is this about your dad?" Cordelia asked.
Purdie felt his breath catch in his throat, and he immediately spat out, "No, Cori, this is not about my dad." The fact that she would even bring that up…
"You sure?" said Aruna.
Was this about his dad? His dad, who was always out of the house for work? His dad, who stopped asking about school when Purdie hadn't been sorted into Slytherin like his dad had, and his dad's dad had, and his dad's dad's dad before him? His dad, who never came back home for holidays but still had opinions on whether or not Muggle-borns like Cordelia would be allowed in his house while he was gone? That dad?
Purdie closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. "Okay, I admit, this might have something to do with some latent abandonment issues."
"Oof, I get that," Tim winced. "Like, seriously, I get that. My bio parents were world travelers, and I didn't exactly fit into their itinerary. It was—is—a whole thing."
"Missed your birthdays and forgot to send cards?" Purdie asked, testing the waters out a little with this new revelation.
"Every year. Did yours set return dates and then inevitably extend their trip?"
"And then forget to tell the rest of us?" Purdie chuckled mirthlessly. "Definitely." He looked around at Aruna and Cordelia. "Anyone else have any secret trauma to bond over?" he asked jokingly.
Aruna and Cordelia looked at each other and both started talking at the same time.
"My mom's in a loveless, abusive marriage that she can't get out of because she doesn't have any friends and he's the breadwinner—"
"My brother and I were bullied so hard in primary school that we had to switch schools every year—"
"—and I love my mom, but there's this toxic codependency that keeps either of us from moving forward—"
"—and now he represses his stimming to such an extent that he has daily meltdowns in private that our parents don't even know about—"
Purdie waved his hands in front of him. "Whoa, whoa, I was just joking. But, like, if you two need someone to talk to, Tim and I are here for you."
Tim looked back and forth between the three of them. "Is this the time to tell you guys that I use artificially-generated magic and am actually a Muggle?"
Purdie's head was spinning from all the information he was receiving in such a short amount of time, but he did have the wherewithal to nod and blankly state, "Yes, I believe this would, in fact, be the perfect time to tell us that."
"—and, like, I wasn't supposed to get attached to you all, but, spoiler, I did, so now I'm working with these underground rebels, and that's why I want to leave school," Tim finished. "It would also keep the rest of you safe. I'm kind of a trouble magnet."
Aruna made a noise that, combined with her little head bobble, indicated to Tim that she was agreeing with him.
"So, you're leaving because you're trying to stop the upcoming war," Purdie said. "Does that mean you won't come back?"
"Unless Hogwarts somehow becomes the main base for the rebels or is some major battleground, I don't really have a reason to. I know enough combative magic to fight other wixen, and I've learned enough about the wizarding world that I can understand the greater conversation and act as a diplomat for the Justice League. And I've basically taught you all I can about unarmed combat without dedicating myself full-time to teaching more complex topics."
"I guess so," Purdie sighed. "But you have to come back and visit sometime, okay? Like, next year. Or hang with us over the summer."
"But of course," Tim grinned. "I wasn't lying when I said I've gotten attached to you all."
"Well, that's good, because I'm attached to you, too," Cordelia stated frankly. "I'd hug you if you weren't wearing that sweater."
"Texture?" Tim asked.
"Texture."
They shook hands like a pair of particularly strong businesspeople, and Tim decided that there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect these people.
Y'all ever get non-verbal and try to sign to your mom, but your mom doesn't know sign, so she just has to play sign-detective with you? No? Just me?
Also, don't mind me, just shamelessly plugging economic philosophy in my fanfics.
Oh, also, also, let me know how it went doing that list of activities at the end of the last chapter. Any successful podcasts start up that I should be listening to? Any new OCs that you're just dying to tell someone about? I'm all ears.
CW: descriptions of depressive states from an unreliable narrator