Alfred Pennyworth waited at King's Cross station for the train. It appeared on no schedule and arrived at no platform acknowledged by any of the boards or signs throughout the station. Still, he had it on good authority, which was currently perched merrily on his shoulder singing a welcome, that it would arrive soon. Soon enough, just as Robin promised, a flood of young people (and a few of their parents) arrived, as if from nowhere at all. He was not the only one to notice, he'd learned the signs of his fellow "muggle parents" this time as of the Christmas break. Alfred was schooled enough not to show his recognition, however, and responded only when a familiar face appeared, and even then he paid no attention to the blank wall from which the host arrived.
"Hail, thane of Glamis."
"How now, you foul black and midnight hag?" He smiled. "How is my boy?"
Professor McGonagall smiled in return, "He's done quite well. He'll be along shortly, I've left him with some tasks to do that will give the two of us a few minutes to speak in private."
She was dressed in what was not quite inconspicuous attire. A pinstripe walking skirt, matching weskit, and severe blouse matched with tall, black leather boots and a neatly pinned hat. Every inch the severe governess, or perhaps a late Victorian mob boss. And again quoting the Bard. She could not be more attractive, he thought. How does she see my black tie and tails?
No matter, for the moment, though a thought worth the keeping. He made space for her on the bench, "Do tell."
The professor took a seat, "Your lad managed to stumble upon a secret that's been buried for nearly a millennium. I had to ask a ghost, and she tells me that only fifty-one before him have managed this feat." Minerva took a moment to take in Mr. Pennyworth's rather adorably nonplussed expression. "The last was my immediate predecessor, generally considered the greatest wizard of the twentieth century."
Alfred attempted to rally himself, but the Headmistress continued, "I'm expecting him and his friends to arrive shortly. I might have volunteered your services for a small favor, if you don't mind continuing this conversation on the way?" He could not help but nod as Bruce and his two friends appeared through the seemingly blank brick wall. Bruce was holding the hand of a red-headed adult. "There they are now. Professor Nygma, how was the ride?"
"Nothing untoward, Professor McGonagall, though it's a shame that I seem to have misplaced my glasses," said the man, the mysterious instructor Bruce had mentioned in his letters. "Can't see a thing without them, you know." Alfred noted that his gaze seemed perfectly focused, now that he was on this side of the barrier. Nygma continued, "Well, I must thank you and your institution for hosting me for the semester. And you, Mr. Pennyworth," he turned to Alfred, "Professor McGonagall tells me you've volunteered a ride to Heathrow Airport so I can return home to Gotham City."
At the imploring looks from both Bruce and Professor McGonagall, Alfred could only respond, "How could I do less for one of my ward's favorite teachers?"
If he noticed the qualifier, Professor Nygma did not acknowledge it, and soon they were all loaded in the car on the way to the airport. Despite his offer of assistance, Professor McGonagall loaded the luggage herself, though Alfred would have sworn there was no way that it would all fit in the trunk of the town car. She took the passenger seat with him, leaving Bruce next to Professor Nygma.
"As I was saying earlier, Bruce has been an exemplary student," She said, as if the previous conversation were of nothing more than his grades, "Perfect marks in all of his exams, isn't that right?"
"Just so, Professor McGonagall," said Nygma, "Our little night-flyer here truly deserves his title."
Alfred thought to ask for clarification, but he saw Minerva gently shake her head. It wasn't that difficult a riddle, after all. She pressed on, "Hardly a blemish in his behavioral record either. One incident with a bully, even if his response was a bit over-zealous, and true repentance when he'd seen the potential consequences, hardly close to the worst we've ever seen." After a moment, during which he could see Bruce's shame-faced expression in the mirror, she added, "In fact, if anything, I worry your young man here might take himself a wee bit too seriously."
Before another word could be said, a loud chirping sounded throughout the cabin from the open cage at Bruce's feet. "I believe," said Alfred, "That Master Robin agrees with you."
"I'm glad to hear it, you'll do well by him, I believe," she said.
Robin chirped.
"To continue, the flying instructor informs me that she'll consider it a personal insult if young Bruce doesn't join the Quidditch team next year. I believe she said he was 'meant to have wings,' if I recall he precise words."
By this point they had reached the drop-off point and Professor Nygma began making ready to leave. After he'd pulled his trunk from the boot, he turned back to the still open window. "Oh, Bruce," They waited, "Normally I would never ask a riddle for which I have no answer, but something tells me this one was meant for you alone:
"'Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?'"