Another quick turnaround between chapters. I've really lucked out with inspiration for this story in the last few weeks. This chapter was a nightmare to write back when I was first working on it, particularly the second half. I'm still not sure I've struck the right tone, so please let me know. It could just be that it's a faster paced chapter, plot-wise, and I'm not used to fast-paced anything. Long time readers will know my plots usually take their sweet time getting where they need to go. It's a longer chapter than I would have liked, too, but there was never a good spot to split it up.
I've lost count of how many times I've had to ask this, but I'm going to keep doing it. Please show every bit of support for Ukraine that you can afford.
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Chapter 7
September 12, 09:36
Hall of Justice, Washington D.C.
Harry did his best not to stare dumbly at Wonder Woman, or Diana as she'd introduced herself. It wasn't even because she was beautiful, though she was absolutely stunning. More than that, though, she had a downright intimidating presence. He'd been around powerful, impressive women before. Professor McGonagall sprung immediately to mind, with Madame Maxine, Hermione, and Molly Weasley following in quick succession. The Amazon princess eclipsed them all without even trying. Her eyes, her posture, the set of her face, all radiated supreme confidence. Friendly, welcoming confidence to be sure, but still a total assuredness in her own power and authority. It didn't hurt that she was of a height with him, which few people, man or woman, were nowadays, and well-muscled with it. The weight of all the eyes on him didn't do his social grace any favors, either.
"Um, sorry about surprising you lot," he said. "Sirius-"
"Has not changed a bit in the last few decades," she finished for him. A look of fond amusement and understanding crossed her face, and he relaxed. She patted his shoulder again, more gently this time, and moved over to his godfather. Harry held his breath, half-convinced he was about to watch her knock Sirius' head for a loop and not at all inclined to intervene. From the air of tense anticipation in the room, he wasn't the only one thinking along those lines. To his amazement, though, rather than cuffing him, she cupped his cheek with one hand and gave him a tender kiss on the lips.
"Still an irredeemable reprobate, I see," she said fondly. He barked a laugh.
"You haven't aged a day, Diana."
"Whereas you have aged like fine wine," she said with shocking familiarity. "Though I should paddle your backside like a naughty child for taking so long to introduce me to your godson."
"If that's what I get for keeping mum, then I'll never speak again."
Harry watched in slack-jawed amazement as Sirius, his godfather Sirius, flirted with Wonder Woman. He was half-tempted to cast a poison-detection charm on himself to check for hallucinogens, but a presence at his left interrupted him before he could. When he turned, it was to see the Man of Steel himself standing at his shoulder, a wry smile on his lips.
"Hi there. I'm Superman. If you'd like, I can introduce you to everyone," he offered. Harry had to struggle to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Possibly the most powerful being on the planet was offering to help him make small talk with superheroes. Even by his severely fucked up standards, today was surreal.
"Err…" He glanced back at where Sirius and Wonder Woman were still… chatting? Bickering? Flirting? He didn't know, but he didn't want to appear rude wandering away from his godfather.
Superman followed his gaze and chuckled. "Don't worry about them. They're like this every time Sirius stops by. They'll be done in a few minutes."
"Are they…?" He trailed off, not sure how to put it, but Superman obviously understood what he was implying.
"I'll let one of them tell you," he said, shaking his head. "I know how to save my own life. Now come on. There's some folks who're real eager to meet you."
Somehow, Harry found himself agreeing, and the blue-clad hero steered him gently over to the waiting group of his teammates. What followed was a surreal blur as he shook hands and exchanged introductions with the same people he'd seen on the news every day since first arriving in this reality. He did his best not to act too awestruck, though. As a former celebrity himself, he knew better than most how irritating it could be to have someone gush over you as though they knew you.
Zatara shook his hand warmly and promised to speak to him later about his own unique brand of magic. The Italian magician was surprisingly open and genuine, despite his formal attire. Aquaman nodded respectfully, every inch a king. His greeting was formal, but friendly enough. He didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor, though. Next to Batman, thought he was downright gregarious. The Caped Crusader made Wonder Woman's intimidating presence seem almost cute. He said nothing, merely nodded once before stalking off.
"Don't mind him," Superman said. "He doesn't understand manners sometimes. Just don't take it personally."
Alongside the adult heroes, there was a dark-skinned boy about his own age whom he hadn't noticed earlier, standing just behind Aquaman. He wore similar armor to the Atlantean king and had a pair of black tattoos that climbed up his arms.
"It is good to meet you, Harry Potter," the boy said. "I am Kaldur'ahm, protégé of Aquaman. You may call me Kaldur, though."
Harry took his outstretched hand gratefully. To his surprise, he sensed a faint tingle of magic. "Nice to meet you, too," he said. "So you're… Aqualad?"
"Indeed," Kaldur said with a rueful smile. "I suppose the surface world has not yet heard much of me. I have only been Aqualad for a year, after all."
Harry grinned. "That's longer than I've been at this. Sirius only agreed to start training me a few weeks ago."
"Yet you have already done more than many seasoned heroes," Aquaman said. "Sirius Black told us of your battle against the sorcerer Faust and his demonic minions. Queen Mera, my lady wife, speaks highly of any mage who could trade even a single blow with that eel. Do not minimize your accomplishments, young Harry. It took true courage to face such opponents alone."
Harry felt heat rise in his face, but he still stood a little straighter. There was a regal, no-nonsense air to the King of Atlantis. It made him more than a little imposing, but it also made his compliment hit all the harder. He didn't say it as if he were trying to win points or soothe Harry's ego. He was just stating facts as he saw them.
Kaldur looked confused at his mentor's words. "Forgive me, but if Mr. Black only began teaching you a few weeks ago, how is it you were able to battle demons, let alone Felix Faust? He is known to be most formidable."
Harry glanced at the adult heroes, puzzled. He'd thought they knew his and Sirius' origins.
"Your godfather told the Leaguers here about you," Superman explained. "But only because he'd already told us all about his own past. Beyond those of us in this room, your story is yours to share as you see fit."
Harry nodded, a little bemused. It was strange, not having people know more about him than he knew about himself. Strange, but good. If he'd had to endure that sort of thing even in an entirely new universe, he might have screamed.
"I am sorry if I overstepped," Kaldur said. "Of course, your secrets are your own."
"No, it's fine," Harry said. "It's not a secret. I just thought you'd already heard. Back where I come from, everyone always seemed to know everything about me before I did."
"You were… famous?"
"It's a long story," Harry said. As he launched into an explanation of his past, starting with how he wasn't even from this Earth, Kaldur's eyes grew steadily wider and wider. Oddly enough, talking about his past didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected. If anything, it just felt good talking to someone his own age again. Someone who understood danger and stakes and wouldn't treat him like a child or a lunatic.
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Batman stood in the corner of the room, watching. Clark would probably scold him later for not socializing with the boy, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Clark was always ready to chide him about one thing or another, usually to do with social skills and his supposed lack thereof. This sort of thing had always been more his and Diana's department, however. Batman, by both necessity and choice, was not a good party guest. That was what Bruce Wayne was for. Besides, anyone who thought he couldn't learn twice as much watching the boy interact with others as he could conversing with him himself was a fool.
Harry Potter wasn't the only one he was watching, though. He also ran a critical eye over Aquaman's new protégé. Of course, he'd run a detailed background check on Kaldur'ahm when he'd first become active, or as detailed a check as he could on an Atlantean native, but this was his first time seeing the boy in person. He took in the young man's ready stance, his fighter's physique, the position of his weapons, and nodded in approval. It seemed Arthur was doing good work with his student.
"Still lurking in the shadows, Bruce?"
He didn't need to turn his head to see who had spoken. Even if he hadn't heard Sirius Black approach, the accent was a dead giveaway.
"No names," he said automatically, with no real hope Black would pay him any heed. As he'd expected, the old man just laughed as if he'd made a joke.
"Relax, Bruce. We're warded. No one can hear our conversation." Black stepped beside him and nodded at the group, which now included Diana. "What do you think?"
About Harry, he didn't need to add. Batman took another look at the teen, now deep in conversation with Aqualad. His height was the first thing anyone would notice, and Batman was no exception. He estimated they were already eye-to-eye; impressive for a sixteen-year-old. Doubtless he would tower by the time he finished growing. He was skinny too, and probably always would be. Despite that, there was some evidence of athleticism in the way he moved and stood. Not an Olympic athlete, but hardly a layabout either. Overall, he looked reasonably well put together, though Alfred would have had apoplexy at the sight of his hair.
He laughed at some joke or anecdote Aqualad and Superman had just told, and Batman narrowed his eyes. There had been something forced about that laugh. The smile, too. It was subtle; Potter was a decent actor, but not subtle enough. There wasn't enough there to form more than the bare bones of a psych profile, but it wasn't encouraging. He'd seen that sort of behavior in Robin when he'd first come into his life, and later during especially distressing cases.
"Why am I here, Black?" He asked, in lieu of answering the other man's question. "You didn't invite me because you thought I'd like to meet your godson, and I have more important things to do than this."
"Right to the point, as always, eh?" Black sighed. "Alright then. I'd like you to help train Harry."
He blinked. That had certainly not been one of the responses he'd anticipated. He scanned Black's expression, looking for tells, but there were none. Either the man was telling the truth or he was a truly gifted liar. Well, he knew Black was an exceptional liar, but in this case, he couldn't see any reason for him to dissemble. That didn't change his answer, though.
"No." He tried to walk away, but found his feet stuck fast to the floor. "Black-"
"Don't growl at me, boy," Black snapped. There was steel in that voice; the steel of someone who'd been fighting monsters since before the year had still started with an 18. "We aren't done talking."
He glared, but it rolled over the old wizard without effect. Not surprising. Black had faced cosmic horrors and ancient demons. Batman knew he was intimidating, but that only went so far, especially in a brightly lit room with an ally. He didn't bother trying to get free. If Black wanted him to stay there, then he wasn't going anywhere without attracting more attention than he wanted at the moment.
"This won't change my mind," he said. "Why do you even want me to teach him? I'm hardly qualified to teach a wizard. Zatara-"
"Giovanni's already agreed to give him some lessons," Black interrupted. "He and I will handle Harry's magical education. That's not what I'm asking of you."
Batman scowled at the old wizard. "Then what?"
Black sighed. "I can teach him magic," he said, "But you can teach him how to actually be a hero in today's world. We both know you're the most dangerous person in the League, and it isn't because of your fighting skills or your technology. It's because of how you think. How you plan. How you adapt to the unexpected. That's what Harry needs to learn more than anything right now. If my damn fool of a godson is going to go down this road, I want him to learn from the best. That's you."
"You were a hero for longer than I've been alive," Batman pointed out, but Black shook his head before he'd even finished his sentence.
"Not like you. Things were different back then. Simpler. Sure, I fought monsters, but they weren't clever. Mostly, it was just a matter of hitting the cosmic horror in the soft bits until it either died or got bored and left. We didn't have to deal with people like Luthor or Joker. The world's changing, and it's people like you who we'll need more and more." He frowned and his gaze turned distant. "Something's coming, Bruce. Something big. I don't know what, but you must have noticed it, too. Things are getting more dangerous. The bad guys are getting smarter. An attack on the Tower just a few months after Harry gets here? That wasn't a coincidence, and I don't believe for a moment that Faust was the brains behind it."
Now that was interesting. "Who could have sent Faust, then? He's not a team player. The other heavyweights in the magical world despise him, and he's clever enough to make manipulating him difficult. For that matter, if you're so concerned, why not put the Helmet back on? I know you still have it."
Black scrubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. "I don't know who could have aimed Faust at me. No one can watch the Tower directly, but Churchill isn't nearly as secure. As for putting the Helmet back on…"
For a moment, his eyes were clearly looking at something else. His mouth thinned to a pale line, almost vanishing in his beard, and Batman saw a faint tremor in his hands. Then he shivered and came back to himself.
"You know that Nabu sometimes gets glimpses of the future when a host wears the Helmet?"
Batman nodded. He'd studied the power for potential use if a new Doctor Fate ever arose, but it had a reputation for unreliability. Then again, so did most magic.
"Well, most of the time, he just gets a peek at what might be. Possible paths, as it were. Sometimes, though, he sees something that will be. Something inescapable." A shadow darkened his face as he spoke. "The next time I put on the Helmet, I'll die."
For perhaps the first time he'd ever seen, there wasn't even a trace of humor in Black's face. Thoughts raced through Batman's mind. He'd known Sirius long enough to piece together the rest. "That's why you retired. Nabu told you, and you needed to save your last shot for when it mattered most."
It hadn't been a question, but Black nodded anyway. "Right before I took the Helmet off for the last time, he told me something was coming that I needed to be around for. Something vital. Now, I'll be the first to admit, Nabu is about as trustworthy as a hungry alligator, but he doesn't lie. He doesn't understand how. So I hung up my cape, and I waited."
"And you believe Harry is that 'something vital'?" He didn't bother trying to hide his skepticism. Sure, the boy had already made a good showing and in time would probably make a decent hero, but a lynchpin on which everything might rest? Batman didn't see it.
"I think he's at least wrapped up in it," Black said firmly. "Nabu was a little light on the details, but trust me, it was no coincidence that Harry landed literally in my front garden. And even if it is, I don't care. I owe Harry. His childhood was a fucking Dickens novel with a bonus chapter of evil wizards, all because I thought running after revenge was more important than taking care of my godson."
He nodded at where Harry was now listening to Kaldur'ahm tell of his fight with Black Manta. "This is the first time I've seen him have an actual conversation with anyone other than me since he got here. He's… angry, Bruce. Angry on a level he doesn't even know exists yet. He's set on walking this path, but you and I both know going into this with that sort of trauma doesn't end well."
"You think he could go dark?"
Black was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, he seemed to have aged 40 years. "I don't want to think about it. I love Harry, but I've seen people break under a lot less strain than he's suffered. That's why I want your help. You know how to channel this sort of crap into good, and you know how to teach others the same thing. Your son is proof of that."
"Robin isn't my son," he said automatically. For some reason, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Black just cocked an eyebrow.
"Whatever you say, Bruce. That doesn't change what you've done for him, and I'd like you to do the same for Harry."
And there it was. The real reason Black had approached him. There were times, despite how proud he was of him, that he regretted ever letting Dick join his crusade. The boy had needed it, but it had opened a can of worms he'd never expected and could never shut. After Dick had come Roy, then Wally, then Kaldur, and now Harry Potter. A new generation of heroes, but starting so young.
Could he help Potter? Black made several compelling points. Naturally, what he hadn't said held as much weight as what he had. Quite apart from what help he could offer the boy, the chance to mold an upcoming magical hero was difficult to pass up. He'd been trying to get some sort of foothold in the magical side of things for years now, with limited success. Zatara was a dependable ally, but he wanted more than that. Magic was an all too frequent thorn in the League's side, and if he couldn't manage it himself, he wanted someone he knew was competent keeping that side of the world in check. Maybe even someone he'd helped train. Yes, the thought was very tempting. And yet…
"I already have a student," he said at last. "And I'm not interested in taking another. I can't risk our secret identities like that. Besides, I have a rule about powers in Gotham. Now release me, unless you want me to free myself."
Black stared at him for a moment, grey eyes cold as a winter morning, before nodding sharply. "Fine. It was worth asking, anyway."
He tried to move his feet again, and this time they lifted from the floor freely. With one last nod to the old wizard, he headed for the zeta tube. There were cases back in Gotham that needed his attention. As he left, though, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the end of the matter. Somehow, he doubted it. Black had never been one to give up before he had what he wanted. Strangely, the thought didn't anger him as much as it probably should have.
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The get-together (Harry couldn't really call it a party) lasted another hour or so before people started making their excuses. Sirius had him say his goodbyes and gently steered him back towards the fireplace. He went with a little reluctance. Talking with the heroes, and especially with Kaldur, had been surprisingly enjoyable. Like a splinter left too long, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed talking with people his own age until he'd taken the plunge and struck up a conversation with the Atlantean teenager. Still, fun as it had been, his social skills were a little rusty after languishing so long. He felt as drained as he did invigorated, which was surely an abnormal combination. Besides, he had a question that had been burning a hole in his brain for the past few hours. The moment Sirius stepped out of the fireplace behind him back in the Tower, he gave it voice.
"So… you and Wonder Woman?"
"Hah!" Sirius barked. "I should have guessed. You meet some of the most powerful people on this or any planet, and the first question you ask is about my personal life."
"I'm a romantic at heart," he said flatly. "Now spill, you old coot."
Sirius flipped him the bird, but there was a merry grin hiding under his faux sternness. "I'm sure you've already guessed, nosy little shite that you are. Yes, we were together. It was before I met Anna, of course. Diana and I met during the Great War. We were just comrades in arms at first. A year or so after it ended, we became… more."
Though he'd known it already, it still shook Harry to think the woman he'd been speaking to just a few minutes ago, the woman who hadn't looked a day over 25, had fought in the First World War. And Sirius had fought alongside her. Was there no end to the weirdness that was his life?
"So what happened?" He asked.
Sirius' tone grew wistful. "We were together for a few years. It was even serious for a while. But being Doctor Fate has its costs. She didn't want to share her life with a man who could only give her half of his. I couldn't blame her. Not exactly an easy thing to ask of a woman. We started to drift, and then I met Anna and fell head over heels for her. I ended things with Diana pretty soon after that. We stayed friends all these years, though."
Harry pondered how to say what he wanted to say delicately, and ultimately decided it wasn't possible. He'd never figured out delicacy, much to Hermione's mortification. "She looked like she'd be open to more than just… friendship with you now."
Sirius looked at him sharply and he raised his hands and made placating gestures. "I'm only saying that you keep harping on me about making friends and being social, but you're shut up in the Tower all the time. You shouldn't be lonely if you don't have to be."
He didn't add that the sight of Sirius cooped up in the Tower reminded him uncomfortably of how he'd been stuck in Grimauld Place. The man had wilted to a shell of himself, locked away like that, and it had killed Harry to watch Sirius escape from one prison only to wind up in another. He didn't want that happening again, even if he was doing it to himself this time.
Sirius squeezed his shoulder and smiled. "You're a good person, Harry. Really. I appreciate you being so concerned for me. But I'm too old for that sort of thing anymore. I've had my great love. Whatever is between Diana and I now, it's our business. I'm not lonely, though. Don't worry about that."
Harry opened his mouth to enquire further and then snapped it shut again. For once, he would leave something be. Sirius was right. It wasn't his business, and there were no giant snakes or evil teachers this time to justify further prying.
"Now, I have an assignment for you," Sirius said, apparently content to leave things there. "I'm sure you'll love it. It's difficult, maybe even dangerous, and you'll be working on your own with no help from me."
"Oh?" Harry tried to hide how excited he was at the prospect. Not even the possibility of danger could outweigh the chance of doing something. The occasional outings with Sirius to wrangle some malks back into Faerie or track down a thief who'd pilfered the wrong artifact weren't nearly enough to satisfy his restlessness. "What is it?"
"I want you to figure out Batman's secret identity, go to his house, and demand he train you."
Then again, maybe there was something to be said for operating under his godfather's aegis. After all, there was a difference between facing potential danger and juggling nundu kits in front of their mother. Even he could see that, no matter what Ron and Hermione had thought.
"Ummm… no?"
"Think of it as a gift," Sirius said, firmly ignoring the insanity of what he'd just asked.
"A gift?" Harry's voice could have freeze-dried an orchard.
"Well, yeah." Sirius nodded, innocent as a babe. "I missed out on 12 years of birthdays and holidays. I figure I owe you a few gifts."
"And you've decided to get me a pissed off Batman?" He plastered the fakest grin he could manage across his face. "Huzzah."
"He won't be pissed off," Sirius protested. After a moment, he amended himself. "At least he won't be pissed at you. He'll probably yell at me for a few hours, or maybe a few days, but he won't take it out on you."
"Forgive me if I'm still not overjoyed at the thought of irritating Batman," he snapped. "It's Batman."
"Exactly," Sirius said, and his own voice now held an edge to it, too. "It's Batman. He's the best there is. Trust me, Harry. I've been in this game longer than anyone else, and he's the best I've ever seen. Better than Superman. Better than me. If I can't talk you out of taking up the good fight, I can at least make sure you have the best training possible, and that means Batman. And so help me, I don't give a flying fuck what either of you think about it. He's going to teach you, and that's final."
"… I don't question he's a great hero," Harry said after a pause. "I'm just not sure what he's supposed to teach me. We use magic to fight-"
"There's more to being a hero than just fighting," Sirius interrupted brusquely. "I've told you that before. You have to think. You have to make your mind as much a weapon as your magic. He may not have powers, but when it comes to using his brain, Batman makes the rest of us look like rank amateurs. I can teach you how to fight. He'll teach you how to win."
Harry stared at the madman he called godfather and waited for the punchline. Prayed for it, really. If this was a joke, then he could laugh it off, hex Sirius' shoes so they'd wander off of their own accord, and most importantly, not get on the bedside of what was, unquestionably, the scariest man in the world.
He waited. There was no punchline.
"You… really want me to do this?" He asked.
"You're damn right I do."
"There's more to this, isn't there?"
"Yes," Sirius admitted.
"And you're not going to tell me any more, are you?"
"Wasn't planning on it, no." Sirius must have seen his reluctance (not that he was trying to hide it) because his face softened. "How about this? If you manage this, I'll teach you something I know you've been itching to learn."
Harry narrowed his eyes. That could be any one of several things, all of them mouthwateringly tempting. Sirius was a harsh teacher, but when he forked over the good stuff, it was always worth it.
"Fine," he sighed. "I still think you're barking, but knowing my luck, it'll work out brilliant."
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October 04, 11:43
Wayne Manor, Gotham
As it turned out, uncovering one of the best guarded and most sought after secrets in the world wasn't as straightforward as, say, arm wrestling a troll or stealing the Crown Jewels. Some of the smartest people in the world had worked for years to find out who Batman was beneath the cowl without success. Harry managed it in just under a month.
'I love magic,' he thought as he stared up at the enormous mansion in front of him. By Gotham standards, it was a shockingly good day. The sun was out, it hadn't rained, and the smog was at a record low. Over the last month, he'd spent enough time in Gotham to know how rare that was.
It had taken him almost three weeks to figure out how to solve the riddle of Batman's identity, and another week for his plan to work. But work it had. Or so he fervently hoped. It would be incredibly awkward if, after all that effort, he was about to accuse the wrong eccentric, reclusive billionaire of being a vigilante for the past six years.
Then again, if Batman was going to live anywhere, Wayne Manor certainly fit the bill. The sprawling gothic mansion would not have looked out of place in an old horror movie. There were looming towers and menacingly arched windows. Some lunatic with a chisel had been permitted to amuse himself with gargoyles and other embellishments.
Of course, it was hardly alone among Gotham's buildings for looking grim. The entire city was… dirty, for lack of a better word. Not just corrupt, though he'd seen enough cops turn a blind eye in the last few weeks to know that was a problem, but spiritually grimy. There was a weight to the air in Gotham. The other practitioners in the city had certainly noticed. He'd spotted a bare handful of genuine conjuring shops, minor hedge magicians, and fae creatures masquerading as normal, yet the city hummed with power. Old, dark, rotten power. Power corrupted from centuries of crime, misery, and the scum of humanity that seemed drawn to the city like moths to a flame. Sirius taught him how that sort of environment could act as both poison and well. Magic drew power from many sources, and emotion was a powerful one. A seething mass of fear, anger, and evil such as Gotham was practically a power plant for dark magic. He tried to push the sense of rot to the back of his mind, though. At the moment, he had enough on his plate, walking up to Batman's front door.
Somehow, despite looking like something from Bram Stoker's wet dreams, the manor still felt homely. It wasn't merely lived in; it was cared for. As he got closer, he could feel the house's threshold. Every dwelling had one; the metaphysical boundary that marked the edge of what was home and what was merely property. In places where the owner had only lived there a short time, or had never truly built a life within its walls, the threshold was weak. A flimsy bit of mist. In those houses that had truly become homes, wherein a family had lived and died, laughed and mourned, the threshold was a mighty thing indeed. Wayne Manor, which had played host to the Wayne family for centuries, had the most powerful threshold Harry had ever felt. Even from a dozen yards away, even to his feeble, half-trained senses, it pressed against him. It didn't bar his passage, nor did it strip his power yet, but he felt as if he were walking up to a mountain range. From what little Sirius had taught him of thresholds, the right wards could turn this place into a fortress to rival the Tower itself. He couldn't sense any spell work, but that meant nothing. His senses were still nascent, and good wards were difficult to catch if they weren't yet active.
Steeling himself, he walked the last few steps up to the front door and rang the bell. A few moments later, he heard the thump of footsteps and muffled voices. The door swung open, letting the noise escape into the world.
"- allow me to answer the door, Master Richard," said a man in a refined English accent. Harry blinked in shock at the familiar cadence. He hadn't expected to hear it all the way in America.
"Come on, Alfred," a different voice said. It belonged to a short, pale, dark-haired boy a few years younger than Harry. He was the one who had opened the door, to the apparent displeasure of this Alfred. "Don't be such a stick in the mud."
"Hi," Harry said. "Does Batman live here?"
When the boy turned to face him, Harry recognized his face. Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne's ward. Those laughing blue eyes and the wide smile on his face morphed into stunned disbelief.
"You-?" That voice, which just a moment ago had been full of mischief and humor, now held pure shock. "What are you doing here? How are you even here? And how do you know- what do you want?"
"I- errr." Harry suddenly realized he hadn't made a plan beyond knocking on the door. At his hesitation, the beginnings of a threat appeared on Grayson's face.
"Master Richard!" Alfred snapped as he stepped into view around the corner. He was a thin, older man, dressed as a butler. Harry hadn't ever seen someone so… proper. Even Professor McGonagall couldn't have found the slightest fault in his posture or clothing. "I have taught you better manners than that, young man. Why did you-"
He cut off as he, too, saw Harry and apparently recognized him. Unlike Grayson, he looked neither surprised nor threatening. Just resigned. "Ah. I see. You had better show him inside, lad."
Grayson looked taken aback. "Alfred, he's-"
"A guest at our door," the older butler cut in. "One who has offered neither insult nor injury. Show him in. I shall fetch Master Bruce."
Harry noted neither Alfred nor Grayson had given him an explicit invitation to enter the house and grimaced. Without such an invitation, the threshold refused to part for him, and as Grayson ushered him through the door, he felt all but the barest trickle of his magic stay behind. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but he endured it without complaint. He was pushing his luck as it was. Asking for an invitation would probably go a bit too far, especially if they knew what it meant to give him one.
The entrance hall was as imposingly grand as the exterior of the mansion had suggested, but in a subtler way. The mad chisel-wielder had apparently been kept outside, and the marble entryway was positively restrained in its elegance. Warm light from a crystal chandelier lent the cold stone a welcoming glow, though the suspicious stare Grayson was sending him soured the effect.
"Both of you please remain here while I fetch Master Bruce," Alfred said. Despite his reserved bearing, he spoke with an expectation of obedience. Before he could leave, though, a third figure came down the stairs.
"What's with all the commotion?" The man asked. Much like his ward, he was pale with black hair, but that was where any possible family resemblance ended. He was tall and impressively built, with clear grey eyes that swept across the room.
"Ah, Master Bruce. I was just coming to tell you, we have a rather… unexpected guest."
The butler stepped aside to give Bruce a clear view of Harry, and the temperature in the room seemed to plummet twenty degrees. Instantly, a dozen tiny changes came over the man's posture and expression. Where just a moment ago there had been a relaxed, somewhat bemused man just shedding the bleariness of sleep, now there stood a deadly predator sizing him up for battle. Any lingering doubts he'd had about Bruce Wayne vanished. This was Batman. Suit or no, there was no mistaking it.
"Harry Potter. What are you doing here?" His voice was a low growl that set the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickling with fear. There was an air of barely leashed violence to the man. Still, scary as he was, Harry had a mission.
"I'm here to ask you to train me," he said. Grayson gaped at him and Alfred raised an eyebrow. Bruce- no, Batman- just glared even harder. Harry swallowed heavily, but stood his ground. He refused to look away.
"Wait here," he growled as he turned to walk off. "Dick, watch him. Don't let him go anywhere."
Harry called after him. "Hey! Where are you-"
"Wait. Here."
Harry watched him stalk off down the hall, Alfred trailing after him. At his side, Grayson stared at him for a moment before shaking his head in wonder.
"Wow," the kid said. "I've never seen B so surprised. Congrats, man. You just rendered the goddamn Batman speechless." He looked at him curiously. "We haven't met, but B told me about you. Dick Grayson."
He stuck a hand out and Harry shook it automatically.
"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Sirius let the phone ring for a few moments before she answered it, just to wind Bruce up further. Pretty and childish, maybe, but the kid really needed to lighten up sometimes. As the last of the original Marauders, he felt it was his solemn duty to inflict laughter upon all those who let themselves grow too dour. Of course, in Bruce's case, he sometimes felt the need to resort to surgically implanting a sense of humor in order to elicit even a smirk from the man. Only when it had reached its last ring did he pick up the receiver.
"Tower of Fate, retired sorcerer supreme speaking. How may I direct your call?"
The voice on the other end was distinctly unamused. "Black. What. Did. You. Do?"
"All sorts of things, kid," he shot back cheekily. "Why, just today I wrangled a púca that's been making a nuisance of itself outside Cork, and then I banished a djinn that's been mucking about in my wine cellar for the last few days. I can't tell you how-"
"Your godson, Black. He just showed up at the manor, asking for Batman. Why is he at my home?"
"So you can teach him, naturally," he said, relishing the faint sounds of Bruce struggling not to crush his cellular on the other end. "I'm sure I told him to mention that."
"How did he know who I am?" For the first time, there was a truly dangerous edge to Bruce's, or rather Batman's, voice. Sirius reflexively sat up a little straighter, magic singing just under his skin. Batman wouldn't hurt Harry, but he was so very, very good at making people forget he had rules. It was only for a moment, but he still had to remind himself Harry wasn't in danger.
"I'm sure I don't know," he answered, which was completely true. He'd deliberately avoided any mention of Harry's hunt for Batman's identity the last few weeks. "You'll have to ask him. You could make it his first lesson; how to give a proper report."
"I already told you, I am not-"
"Yes, you are," he cut in. "You've already decided you are. If you were truly set against training Harry, you wouldn't have called me. You'd have sent him packing without a word. Instead, you're on the phone, because, no matter how much you don't want to admit it, he impressed you. He impressed you back at the Hall and he impressed you even more just now. So, do us both a favor, put that terrifying brain of yours to work, hang up the phone, and teach my godson how to not die."
"… We are not done talking about this," Bruce said, and it was Bruce, again. The dangerous edge was gone from his voice, replaced by a hint of resignation.
Sirius grinned. "Of course not. We'll have to talk about Harry's schooling. It's past time he enrolled in a proper high school. I think Gotham Academy would be an excellent choice."
"You think wha-"
"By the way, when are you going to adopt that boy of yours?" He asked. "It's about time, wouldn't you say?"
For several seconds, all he heard was spluttering. Actual spluttering. He had made the great, unshakeable Batman splutter. Sirius thought he could die happy.
"That is not-"
"Just a thought. Bye for now." He hung up the phone and sat back. For several minutes, the sound of his raucous laughter echoed throughout the tower.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
To his surprise, Harry found that Richard, or Dick as he preferred, shared neither his mentor's standoffish attitude nor his laconic tendencies. Sure, the younger boy kept a wary eye on him at all times, but he also stuck up a conversation almost instantly.
"So… you're really a wizard?" Dick asked.
"Well, yeah," Harry replied.
An eager light came into the younger boy's eyes. "Hmm. Prove it."
A little nonplussed, Harry pulled out his wand and gave it a wave. With so much of his power hovering outside the threshold, he couldn't do much, but he still had enough for a convincing display.
"Avis," he muttered, and a couple of red and black birds appeared, chirping and fluttering anxiously. Outside, he could have summoned a flock of dozens, maybe over a hundred. As it was, just those two left him dizzy for a moment. Dick eyed them suspiciously until one alighted, and then relieved itself, on his shoe. He squawked and shooed the offending bird away, but the damage, such as it was, had been done.
"Robins?" He asked with a smirk. "Really?"
"It seemed appropriate. You are Robin, aren't you?"
Dick's smirk grew, but then his eyes darted to one side, towards the same hallway Bruce and Alfred had disappeared down. Harry turned to see what had caught his eye, but there was nothing there. Just an empty, wood paneled hall and the odd painting or three. When he turned back, Dick was gone, too. The robins were still there, apparently unconcerned that an entire human had up and vanished in barely a second. He glanced around, but the boy was nowhere to be found.
"Dick?" He asked uneasily.
"Hahahaha." An eerie giggle echoed off the walls, coming from everywhere at once. Harry felt an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine, and he tried to remind himself Dick was just a kid. An ordinary, powerless kid.
'Sure. And Batman's just some bloke with a costume.'
"Looking for someone?" The voice came from just behind him, so close he could feel the breath against his ear. With a startled yelp, he stumbled and turned around. Dick hung upside down from a rope, grinning from ear to ear. "Maybe your glasses need cleaning."
"Hilarious," he said. "You're a proper comedian."
"I know," Dick said as he leapt down and bowed to an imaginary audience. "But dude, you definitely take the prize for daredevil. Knocking on B's door and demanding he train you? Getting bird poop on Alfred's floors? That takes balls. Why'd you do it?"
"I'm pretty sure you asked me to prove-"
"Not the birds," Dick said with a grin. "What possessed you to figure out who we are and demand B train you? That's crazy, and trust me, I know crazy."
Harry shrugged. He still wasn't sure of that himself. "My godfather said he's the best, and he wouldn't have stopped nagging me until I agreed to find you guys. Do you think he'll actually agree?"
"That depends." The sudden voice made both of them stiffen. Bruce stepped out of a shadow that definitely shouldn't have concealed his bulk, a frown creasing his face. "Follow me."
That was all he said. Without even a glance back to see if they were following, he strode back down the hall. Harry had to jog to catch up, with Dick half a step behind. He tried to ask where they were going, what Bruce intended, why he'd left in the first place, but received only a grunt in return. When he looked questioningly at Dick, the boy just shook his head. Apparently, words were now at a premium.
The mansion was enormous, and they walked for a while in near silence. At one point he saw Alfred dusting off a table, and the elder man gave him a small nod of what he hoped was encouragement. Aside from that, though, it was as grim a walk as he'd been on in a while. Batman didn't kill people, he kept telling himself. He routinely dished out fractured skulls and shattered ribs to those who displeased him, but he didn't kill. Besides, Sirius wouldn't let him actually get hurt. Right?
Eventually, Bruce led them into a large study. Harry expected him to take a seat behind the large mahogany desk in the center of the room, but instead he walked over to a grandfather clock set against the wall. Harry couldn't see what he did, but something clicked and the clock swung forward, revealing a set of stone steps descending into darkness. He felt his jaw drop.
"Is that-"
"Be patient, and you'll see," Bruce said before starting down the stairs. Harry followed, careful not to slip on the smooth stone.
The stairs went down a long way; deep enough the temperature dropped noticeably. Every few meters, a light mounted on the wall gave just enough illumination to let him make out where he was going, but nothing more. From below, he could just make out the faint sound of water rushing over rock, and the even fainter smell of-
'Bat guano?' He thought. It was faint, but he'd certainly used enough of it in potions over the years to recognize the odor. 'So, Batman has a cave full of bats. There's being on brand, and then there's… whatever this is.'
Despite the rather on the nose nature of their surroundings, Harry couldn't help the buzz of excitement in his spine. As the steps curved around the wall of the cave, what he saw took his breath away. Below them stretched a massive cavern. No, not just one cavern. He could see the faint outlines of another cave far back in the gloom, and another off to the other side. This was a whole cave system. That wasn't even close to the impressive part, though. Far from bare rock and moss, the cave was filled with… all the equipment a masked hero could want. Metal floors offered flat surfaces for walking, and more lights left the space adequately, if not brightly, lit. He spotted a massive computer, the biggest he'd ever seen, filling an entire corner of the space. Nearby were several devices he recognized as lab equipment, though he couldn't have guessed what they did. Across the floor and down a set of stairs was a well-appointed gym, complete with weights, cardio equipment, a clear space with mats for sparring, and a number of what he supposed were training dummies. There was even what looked like gymnastics facilities. He saw a bar, a set of rings, a tightrope, and even a trapeze. To one side, an actual waterfall spilled from places unseen above into places unseen below.
There were walkways and staircases leading off to other parts of the cave, but his eyes immediately went to a large platform near the back. On it was what some might have deemed a car. It had four wheels, at least, and presumably some seats, but that was where its resemblance to any other car Harry had ever seen ended. It was long, sleek, pure black, and looked about a century more advanced than even the fancy sports cars he'd seen on the way to the manor. It had pipes. It had fins. It had what he strongly suspected was a small jet engine poking out of the back. All in all, it was the most wicked looking vehicle he'd ever seen.
"Careful. The bats'll roost in any hole they find," Dick said with a laugh as he reached over and pushed Harry's jaw shut. "Hey B, we should bring people down here more often if this is how they'll react. Comedy gold."
"Hmm," Bruce grunted, clearly not as amused as his protégé at Harry's stunned awe. He just kept leading them down the stairs. More and more of the cave came into view. Harry spotted a massive American penny, an equally massive playing card hanging from the ceiling, and, most shocking of all, an enormous T-Rex modeled in exquisite detail. There were a few glass display cases at the base of the larger pieces, though he couldn't make out what they contained.
"Trophies," Dick said, following his gaze. "We like to take some of the cooler stuff as mementos."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "We?" He couldn't quite picture the infamously stoic Batman hauling memorabilia back to his lair to ogle at later.
Dick developed a sudden interest in the wall, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"Hey, give me a break," Dick griped. "I was nine when I started as Robin. Dinosaurs were cool. I mean, dinosaurs are cool. That one-"
"Robin." There was a clear warning in Bruce's voice, and Dick's mouth snapped shut. They made the rest of the walk in silence.
After an interminable few minutes, Bruce finally led them to a dim corner of the cave, just out of sight of the computer. For some reason, there was a small puddle of wax on the floor, as if a candle had spilled and never been cleaned. Dick tensed slightly when they stopped and Harry shot him a glance, but he said nothing and went to stand by Bruce. The silence grew heavier and heavier until, at last, he couldn't bear it anymore.
"What am I doing down here?" He asked. "Are you going to teach me or-"
Bruce raised a hand and his mouth clicked shut of its own accord.
"How did you find out who I am?" He asked. For once, his voice wasn't a growl. A growl would have been welcome compared to that soft, menacing whisper. Harry felt pinned to a board, spread out for some unfeeling scientist to dissect and study.
"A tracking spell on the car?" He said hurriedly.
"The Batmobile?" Dick asked. "That's impossible."
"I take precautions to prevent anyone casting tracking spells on my equipment," Bruce confirmed in that same lethal whisper. "Tell me the truth, or this conversation will become unfriendly."
"I- I didn't cast it directly on the car," he stammered. His heart had suddenly chosen to take up residence in his throat. "I used a spell to track anything traveling through it at over sixty miles an hour. I spread it on some of the city streets. It probably stuck to your tires. I figured there weren't many things other than you that drive through downtown Gotham at highway speeds."
It had taken him weeks to devise such a spell and gather the necessary ingredients. Sirius probably could have cast it with a word and a gesture, but he wasn't even close to that level. Luckily, thaumaturgy could bridge that skill gap by exploiting the metaphysical connection between different objects. A toy car, some paint from a speed limit sign, a sliver of paper from the map of Gotham he'd referenced, and a few other ingredients had let him weave a spell far beyond his typical skill level.
"Did this spell let you track the Batmobile all the way back here?" Bruce asked. His voice wasn't quite so dangerous now, but Harry didn't dare relax. That lethal tone could return at any moment.
"No, it stopped working not long after you got into Bristol." He'd wondered about that, and still couldn't explain it. One moment, the spell had been working perfectly, his little toy car moving across the map in sync with the Batmobile, and the next moment, the whole array had fallen apart. Maybe Batman had another set of defenses against magical tracking. It wouldn't surprise him.
"Once I knew you came from Bristol, though, that narrowed it down a lot," he continued. Somehow, he doubted Batman was the sort to appreciate partial explanations. "There's only a few people around here the right age and build with enough money to be Batman, and you seemed the most likely candidate. With your past and Robin appearing not long after you took in Dick, I thought it was a good bet."
"I have taken significant measures to prevent anyone from drawing a connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman," Bruce said, and now a hint of annoyance colored his voice. "The two have been filmed miles apart at the same time on multiple occasions."
Harry snorted. "I'm a wizard. Stuff like that isn't exactly unusual in my life. I don't take things at face value any more. Now, I've answered your questions. Will you agree to train me or not?"
Bruce went silent and just stared at him. Both Harry and Dick stared back, waiting with bated breath.
"Why do you want me to?"
Harry blinked. He hadn't been expecting a question like that, though in hindsight he should have. "Sirius said-"
"I know what your godfather told you," Bruce interrupted. "But he isn't here. You are. So, tell me why you want my training. Why are you worth my time?"
Harry felt his face grow hot at the condescending tone. His temper flared, and he made no effort to tamp it down. After a month of searching, after all the work he'd put in, he wasn't about to let anyone question if he was worth their time. His hands clenched into fists and he leaned forward angrily.
"It took me a month to figure out who you are," he snapped. "I'd say that makes me worth your time. You're supposed to be the best, and that's what I need to learn. But if you won't teach me, then tell me now, so I don't waste any more time on you. I need to help people, and I'm going to do it no matter what you, or Sirius, or anyone says."
"Is that a fact?" Bruce was unfazed in the face of his tirade. His face was a block of stone.
"Yeah, it bloody well is." In his mind's eye, he could see that blood-soaked shoe lying in the road, Cedric staring sightlessly up at the sky, Voldemort's sneering mask of a face. All the reasons he could not, would not, sit on the sidelines anymore. Why didn't anyone get that? Why couldn't they understand he would. Not. Back. Down? "If you'll help me, great, but I'll do this on my own if I have to. So, what'll it be? Are you going to train me?"
He hadn't quite been yelling, but he was still out of breath by the time he finished. In the wake of his rant, the silence was deafening. The only noise was the distant splash of the waterfall and his own harsh panting. Dick was staring at him and looked caught between cheering him on and seeking the nearest cover. Bruce may as well have been a statue. The silence stretched for a minute, and then another, and Harry suddenly felt a total fool. He stood by every word he'd said, but it occurred to him that berating the Batman in his lair, when he'd already shown up uninvited and demanded training, might have been stupid. Still, he wasn't about to back down now. There was nothing to do but stand and wait for Bruce's answer.
"… yes, I will."
He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the words seemed to echo around the cave like a gunshot. Dick let out a stunned laugh. Harry couldn't even do that. His tongue felt as if it had glued itself to the roof of his mouth. Relief and surprise swept through him, strong enough to make him dizzy. Even before his hot-tempered outburst, he hadn't truly expected Batman would ever agree to mentor him. After it, it would have been less surprising if Sirius had shown up in a tutu dancing the cancan.
"You will?" He croaked out after a few seconds of trying.
"Yes," Bruce said. "Provisionally, and against my better judgment, I'll train you. But I have rules. You will follow them, or you will never set foot in my cave again."
If his voice had been steel before, it was stone now. Every trace of compromise or flexibility vanished. Now, there were only facts, absolute and unyielding.
"Rule one; you are not Robin. You are not my partner. You are not here to help me defend my city. I will teach you what you need to know about fighting criminals. Perhaps, in time, you will earn a spot on patrol, but for now, you will do only as I say and nothing more."
Harry nodded, still too surprised for words. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Dick relax just a hair.
"Rule two; no powers in Gotham. That includes magic. Powers just attract other powers, and I will not allow that sort of escalation in my city. Unless your life is on the line, you will not use magic outside the mansion without my permission."
Again, he nodded. Having a restriction on his magic stung, but it was no worse than what he'd put up with during summers at the Dursley's.
"Rule three; outside of the Cave, you will never refer to either myself or Robin by our civilian names while in uniform. Similarly, you will never use our hero identities when we are out of uniform. Our secret identities are absolute. Do not make me regret trusting you with our names."
Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the idea that Bruce had entrusted him with his identity rather than Harry discovering it for himself, but he let it pass and nodded his agreement.
"Finally, you will give me your absolute best at all times. No exceptions. Make no mistake, I did not choose for you to be here. If you wish to learn what I can teach you, then you will earn it. No matter how mundane, tedious, or absurd a lesson may be, you will pay attention and give your all to mastering it. Understood?"
"Understood." The rules were harsh, and a little insulting, but he could live with them. They were just steps on his path, and that shining goal of being a hero, of fighting the same fight his godfather had spent so long on, was worth any number of rules.
Bruce eyed him silently for a long minute before nodding. "Very well. Your training begins now. First, let's assess your physical fitness. Robin, start him on the five-mile course. We'll move on to the obstacles after that. If he's still standing."
Dick laughed and Harry paled. He was going to get Sirius back for this, he thought. If, by some miracle, Batman didn't kill him first.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Bruce watched as the two teenagers vanished back up the stairs, Dick already laughing gleefully at the hell they would put Harry through in the next few hours. Behind him, he heard a discreet cough. He turned to see Alfred standing a few yards away. There had been no sound to mark his old friend's approach. Somehow, he was one of only a handful of people in the world who could still reliably sneak up on him.
"Something to say?" He asked.
"I was about to ask you the same question," Alfred replied. "If I may be so bold as to offer my opinion, I believe you did the right thing in agreeing to train young Mister Potter."
He looked at the butler skeptically. "You think I am the best person to train another child?"
Alfred sighed. "Master Bruce, for a man with such commendable self-awareness in most matters, you can be astonishingly oblivious in others. You do yourself a disservice. I have told you before, you have much more to offer this world than merely punching the criminal element in the face. Master Dick is proof of that."
"Dick needed me. He needed this." He gestured at the Cave.
"And Mister Potter does not?" Now it was Alfred's turn to look skeptical. "Master Dick is remarkable, true, but I suspect Mister Potter has great potential of his own. You have already nurtured young Richard's potential. I believe it is well within your power to do the same for young Harry."
Bruce pursed his lips. His mind went back to the boy's outraged rant when he'd provoked him. Sirius had been right. "He has a lot of anger. That could be dangerous if he doesn't control it."
"Then perhaps it is even more fitting that you should train him. At the risk of sounding repetitive, I recall Master Dick had similar struggles to overcome. With your help, he succeeded. I have every confidence in your ability to do so once more." Alfred hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I have rarely known you to second guess yourself, Master Bruce. Why this sudden doubt? Is this truly about Mister Potter?"
Bruce eyed Alfred appreciatively. Sometimes he wondered who of them was truly the detective. "No. At least, not much of it. Something Black said on the phone has me… questioning certain things."
"Would this perhaps be his question about your intentions regarding Master Dick?"
Bruce hummed in agreement and Alfred nodded, unsurprised. "Should I even bother to tell you my opinion on the matter?"
He frowned. "I'm not- Dick had a father. A good father. I don't want him to think I'm trying to replace him."
The look Alfred gave him could have left the Amazon a desert. "With all due respect, Master Bruce, that is the biggest load of codswallop I have ever heard. No one is saying anything about replacing the boy's parents. Merely giving him a new one. Tell me, have you even spoken to him about it?"
Bruce tried very hard not to look away as he had when he was young, and Alfred caught him doing something stupid. He didn't quite manage it, and the butler sighed.
"Then perhaps you should not assume to know his feelings on the matter until you have spoken to him. I know you think of him as a son already- don't bother denying it. I have eyes. Might I suggest you find some of that courage you demonstrate so aptly on the streets of Gotham and brave a conversation with a thirteen-year-old boy? Do not repeat my mistakes."
Bruce cocked his head, confused. "Mistakes? What are you talking about?"
Now it was Alfred's turn to grimace, which was a surprise in itself. He rarely allowed anything to pierce his unflappable bearing.
"After your parents passed, I chose to continue acting as your butler. True, I was your guardian, but I did not allow myself to be your parent. It… did not feel like my place, to step in where Thomas should have been. Because of my cowardice, I allowed a young boy to grow up without a father figure."
"Alfred, you were-"
"Please, Master Bruce, this is not about me. This is about you and Master Dick. Promise me you will think about what I've said. Take whatever time you need, but think on it."
"I promise," he said.
"In that case, might I suggest you see to your new student before your more experienced pupil traumatizes him for life," Alfred said with a significant look at the stairs back up to the manor. "In my experience, Master Dick's sense of humor is something best experienced… gradually."
Bruce grimaced, thinking back to some of the pranks Dick had pulled in his early days at the manor. Those had been times to test a man's sanity. "Hmmm. Probably for the best. I'll be back before patrol."
He headed for the stairs himself, but paused at the base and turned back. The words tried to stick in his throat, but he forced them out with main strength. "Alfred, whatever you might think, you are my father. As much as Thomas Wayne was. Probably more. When I first took in Dick, it was your example I tried to turn to in taking care of him, not his. I'll always love him, but you raised me. And I couldn't have asked for someone better."
Alfred's eyes grew misty, and there was a tiny hitch in his voice. "That is… very kind of you, Master Bruce. And if I may say, I could not have asked for a better boy to raise."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
It was almost sunset by the time Harry Apparated back to the Tower grounds. Sweat caked his clothes and his breath came in sharp pants. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he raised a hand to summon the Tower and open the door. As soon as he stumbled into the entry hall, his legs gave out. He slid down the wall, leaving a streak of sweat on the stone. Friction and luck were the only things keeping him from keeling over to one side.
After a few minutes, Sirius walked into the hall, took one look at him, and smirked. "You look like shit. Smell like it, too."
Harry tried to lift a hand, but he may as well have tried lifting Fluffy. "Try to imagine me flipping you off," he wheezed. "I'd do it for real, but I think my arms'll fall off."
Sirius' smirk widened into a grin. "So you had fun, then."
"Just wait, old man," he growled. "Eventually I'll be able to walk again, and then I'm going to kick your arse."
"I don't know if I'm going to live that much longer," Sirius said with a significant glance at his pathetic state. He produced a tiny glass vial and held it out dramatically. "Then again, I have this little bit of Pepper-Up potion. Enough to, say, get some poor sap back on their feet after a long day. I was going to give it to you, but if you're going to kick my arse, then I should probably-"
"Oh, give over," Harry groaned. "Pass it here. I'll forget the beating this time."
Sirius waved it in front of him for another second before uncorking it and pouring it down his parched throat. The spicy potion left a trail of liquid fire on its way to his stomach and made steam pour out of his ears, but its effects were worth it. In seconds, Harry felt strength return to his limbs.
"After all," he continued when he'd finished coughing, "It's illegal to break historical artifacts."
"Ha ha ha," Sirius said with a pout. "I should call Bruce and tell him he didn't work you hard enough if you've still got enough energy to be witty."
Harry smirked. "So you agree it was witty?"
Sirius gaped at him for a moment before he threw back his head and roared with laughter. "You cheeky little- Oh, you don't know how good it is to have someone to spar with. That one would have done your dad proud."
His smirk widened into a grin. Once, he'd despised people comparing him to his father. It had felt as if they were shoving him in a set of clothes that didn't fit properly. Now though, he treasured those times Sirius mentioned his parents. It was a glimpse at a part of himself he couldn't normally see.
Sirius hauled him to his feet and waved a hand over him. There was a flare of golden light, and the accumulated grime from hours of hard exercise vanished.
"That's better. At least you don't look like something I reanimated now." He brushed a bit of dust out of Harry's hair. "So, you figured out Batman's identity and got him to train you, then?"
Harry nodded. He could still scarcely believe it himself.
"I believe I promised I'd teach you something impressive if you managed that." Sirius pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to him. "What do you make of this?"
Harry looked at it. It was a leaf of some sort; broad, spade shaped, and slightly hairy. Something about it looked familiar. He sniffed it and his eyes went wide. He recognized that sharp, bitter aroma.
"Is this a mandrake leaf?" He asked. Silently, he prayed to every god he knew of (and there were quite a few now) that this meant what he thought it meant.
"Yes, it is." Sirius said, with a twinkle in his eyes that would have made Dumbledore envious.
"And tonight's a full moon."
"Right again. Good thing you finished your assignment today, or we'd have to wait another month."
Harry couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "So this means…"
"Yes, it does," Sirius said with a matching grin. "Stick that in your mouth. It's time you became an animagus."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
This was probably the most important chapter of the story so far, at least in terms of what it sets up down the line. It's certainly been in my head longer than any chapter save the first one. Batman being one of Harry's primary mentors was one of the first ideas I had for this story, and it's one I'm excited to explore. Too many DC fics, especially Young Justice fics, portray Batman as a paranoid, antagonistic, asshole who is always in the way and always in the wrong. I wanted to do something else. Harry isn't going to be turning into a ninja or anything, though, so don't worry. He's still a wizard. He'll just be a wizard with Bat training (as if that's not the most terrifying sentence I've ever written).
It's important to remember, going forward, that this is pre-Jason Bruce. This is Bruce during, arguably, the happiest time of his life. He isn't yet as emotionally constipated or as traumatized as he is in the comics. Young Justice also had one of the best depictions of good parent Bruce that we've gotten in the last few decades, and I want to honor that.
Harry will also be getting some tutoring from Zatara. I figured, given how protective Sirius is, he would absolutely make sure Harry gets the best mentors available. Also, I love the backwards spell casting, and wish we had more of it in DC. I won't be spending too much time detailing his training, though. I want to get to the material of the show as quickly as possible.
Please let me know how you think I did on this chapter. As I said above, I'm still unsure if I stuck the landing or not. A lot of people, including me, are having issues with their email alerts, so it may take longer than normal for me to respond to reviews and PMs, but I'll get to them as soon as I see them. Thanks, and see you next time.