Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [10]

The diadem was intricately crafted, though tarnished by age.

Kathoom held it in his talons, and he could almost hear a soft, musical voice whispering in his ear.

The voice urged him to place the diadem upon his head.

If he wore it, it promised, he’d gain boundless wisdom and power.

“No thanks!”

Kathoom wasn’t so easily swayed.

He knew the diadem was cursed with dark magic—why would he be foolish enough to wear it?

Even Dumbledore, powerful as he was, had suffered greatly after wearing the Gaunt family ring, leaving him with only a year to live.

And Kathoom was just an ordinary, harmless owl. Who knew? He might keel over the second he put it on.

As for that voice, if it thought it was Rowena Ravenclaw’s lingering spirit, it was dead wrong.

This was Voldemort’s Horcrux, and if there was any consciousness in it, it would only be a fragment of Voldemort’s soul.

The Dark Lord had gone all out—he’d even used a voice changer to entice him.

“Maybe I could use this thing to help Bruce strengthen his willpower. Could be worthwhile.”

Kathoom tossed the diadem lightly between his talons, contemplating how best to put it to use in Bruce’s training.

Just then, a rush of warmth flowed through him. This magical energy coursing into his body sent a shiver down his spine.

“What the—?”

Kathoom immediately recognized it as the tenfold feedback he received whenever Batman grew stronger.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Here he was, trying to figure out ways to help Bruce level up, and the kid had gone and taken the first step on his own.

—

Rewind to a bit earlier.

In the Grangers’ suburban home, Mrs. Granger was tidying Bruce’s room.

Meanwhile, Hermione had brought over her wand and a stack of textbooks, setting them down in front of Bruce.

She’d mentioned before that she’d already mastered a few spells.

Now that they were home, she had to show him.

“This is my wand!”

Hermione waved the short stick in her hand. “Vinewood, ten and three-quarters inches, dragon heartstring. The old wandmaker said that wands choose their owners, so this one’s perfect for me!”

And now, for the grand reveal.

Hermione raised her wand, muttering, “Lumos!”

With a whispered incantation, the tip of her wand glowed warmly, making Bruce blink at the brightness.

Hermione ended the spell, tilting her chin up with pride.

“Well? Impressed?”

Bruce rubbed his eyes, unimpressed. “Can’t a flashlight do the same thing?”

“It’s not the same!” Hermione retorted instantly. “This is magic!”

Alright, magic.

Bruce grew more curious. “Do you know any stronger spells? I mean, if you ran into a bad guy, is there a spell that could stop him?”

“Well…”

Hermione hesitated.

Bruce’s question was a bit advanced—none of her first-year textbooks covered that.

So, she changed the subject: “You’re getting ahead of yourself! Learning is a step-by-step process. You have to at least master the basic Lumos spell before you can think about anything more powerful.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Bruce then made a request: “Can I borrow your wand to try that spell?”

Hermione hesitated for a second but ultimately handed him her wand, a small smile on her lips. “You can try, but don’t expect too much. I had to practice for ages to get it right…”

“Lumos!”

The moment he took the wand, Bruce recalled how Hermione had held it and repeated the incantation.

The tip of the wand blazed brightly, far surpassing Hermione’s previous attempt.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock, her expression as if she’d just seen a ghost.

“So that’s how it works.”

Bruce extinguished the light, marveling at the new sensation within him. It felt as if some untapped energy had started flowing through his veins.

“How did you do that?!”

Hermione shrieked, her voice trembling with disbelief. Bruce’s casual attempt had shattered her pride as an older sibling.

How could this be?

Bruce hadn’t even read the textbooks—he’d merely watched her do it once and replicated it perfectly!

Hermione was in disbelief.

Bruce shrugged. “Didn’t you just teach me?”

Hermione had demonstrated it in front of him—learning it didn’t seem like a big deal.

Nothing too difficult, either.

He returned the wand, and Hermione accepted it in silence, then abruptly stomped back to her room.

The door slammed shut.

Bruce scratched his head, feeling puzzled. “Did I do something wrong?”

Oh well, girls were always hard to understand.

Thinking back to the spell he’d cast, he felt a newfound awareness.

The sensation of magical energy flowing through him and being released outward was completely new.

“It almost feels like… I don’t even need a wand.”

Bruce twisted his wrist, vaguely sensing that with a bit of practice, he could cast Lumos even without a wand.

This was a good thing.

He already disliked relying on an external tool.

Being able to use magic only with a wand, and being powerless without one—was magic truly so constrained?

Bruce pictured his ideal form of magic: channeling energy into his fists, landing punches that hit hard and true.

He raised his fists and threw a few experimental jabs at the air.

Then he frowned and shook his head.

“No, my strength and magic are still too weak.”

Rising from the couch, Bruce spotted the magical textbooks Hermione had left behind.

Why not take a look himself?

—

“What’s going on?”

Kathoom was thoroughly perplexed.

Ever since the feedback started, his body had been accumulating magic almost constantly.

Even at ten times the efficiency, this was unusually fast.

It hadn’t stopped since it began—what exactly was Bruce up to?

Finally, after more than twenty minutes, the influx of magic slowed.

It wasn’t that Bruce had hit a bottleneck.

He’d simply finished reading the book.

Kathoom didn’t know the specifics, but the growth in that short time was transformative.

The magic flowing within him now exceeded that of an average Auror.

Even compared to some professors at Hogwarts, he was far from outmatched.

All of that in just twenty minutes.

“I really underestimated Bruce. His drive is a lot stronger than I’d realized.”

Kathoom suddenly had a curious thought.

Maybe he didn’t need to micromanage Bruce at all. If he took Bruce to different worlds, his determination would naturally push him to become the strongest there.

Just like now.

“Speaking of which, it seems I can finally use some methods to handle this diadem.”

He glanced down at the crown in his talons.

Inside, Voldemort’s soul fragment shivered ever so slightly.

—

T/N: Of course Bruce is a prodigy makes sense