As the ropes fell away, Bruce collapsed onto the ground, wincing from the pain that radiated through him.
Kathoom tilted his head, saying, “Hard to tell if you got lucky or not with that one—first one to show up was Jason Todd, of all people.”
It was…unexpected, yet somehow inevitable.
If anyone in that world hated Bruce deeply enough to make it through first, it was Jason.
And, though Jason might shout about revenge and rage, would he ever actually go through with killing Bruce? Especially this younger version of him? Probably not.
Bruce rubbed his sore wrist, muttering as he processed this. “So…that guy kept calling me Batman. That’s who I become in the future?”
A bat…
Bruce wondered what could have possibly motivated him to choose such a name.
“Don’t like the name?” Kathoom quipped, adding, “We could go with something else, like ‘Captain Gotham.’”
“No, I like it.”
Bruce turned the name over in his mind.
Bats terrified him. Adopting their name would mean embracing that fear—and maybe, making his enemies fear it too.
Kathoom shrugged and flapped his wings, gliding away as Bruce trailed after him.
He’d let Bruce and his fear of bats work themselves out. It wasn’t a short story, anyway; the history stretched back ages. Batman, the Dark Knight—the legacy tied to him spanned countless years and worlds. The essence of it had been decided long before Bruce had even known to fear the dark.
Following Kathoom, Bruce was lost in thought, lingering on his brush with Jason.
He’d been caught completely off guard, nearly killed.
No—this wouldn’t do. He couldn’t go on like this, leaving things to chance and hoping for the best.
Contingency.
The word sprang into his mind like a beacon.
Yes, contingencies, redundancies. He needed to plan for every possible scenario—not just one plan, but layers upon layers of backup.
Only with that level of preparedness could he feel secure, given how many enemies seemed destined to enter his life.
The next morning, the Grangers brought Bruce to London.
“We’re getting all your school supplies today,” Mrs. Granger said from the front seat, smiling back at him.
In the back, Hermione stared down at her lap, face partially obscured by her mess of curls. It was clear she was still upset.
“Hermione.” Mrs. Granger sighed. She already knew what had happened between the kids.
Hermione had always had a fierce, competitive streak, so seeing Bruce’s natural talent with magic had bruised her pride.
Hermione lifted her head, doing her best to look unaffected. “I’m fine, Mum.”
Mrs. Granger let it go. Maybe a little disappointment wasn’t such a bad thing. Hermione was proud, and meeting someone else with talent might help her stay humble.
Soon they reached Charing Cross Road, parking in front of a small, dingy pub.
Technically, for Muggle-borns, a Hogwarts professor would typically visit to help them navigate the magical world. But the Grangers had already gone through it once last year with Hermione and felt confident enough to manage on their own.
“This is the Leaky Cauldron,” Hermione said, pointing to the pub. “Past here is the magical world.”
“Thank you.”
Bruce offered Hermione a quiet thanks.
She glanced at him, and maybe it was his politeness or her sense of duty as his new “big sister,” but her annoyance seemed to ease.
They passed through the pub and into a small, walled courtyard. There, Hermione stepped forward, tiptoed to reach a particular brick, and tapped it three times with her wand.
The brick quivered, and then the wall started to shift. A small gap opened and then widened until it revealed a cobblestone street stretching out before them.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley!” Hermione announced, holding her head high.
For all the world, it looked like she owned the place.
The alley was alive with activity, the shops overflowing with strange, wondrous things. Signs hung from every store, advertising items like enchanted books and animated portraits.
“First, we’ll go to Gringotts to exchange currency,” Mrs. Granger explained, her tone practical. “Fifty Galleons should be more than enough…”
“Aunt, I have my own money.”
Bruce didn’t feel right letting them pay for everything. He knew Mrs. Granger meant well, but if he could, he’d rather handle it himself.
After a bit of explaining, he managed to get across that he’d inherited the Wayne fortune. He didn’t go into detail but tried to make it clear he wasn’t exactly short on cash.
Mrs. Granger sighed but relented, agreeing to let Bruce handle his expenses this time.
At Gringotts, he exchanged his British pounds for Galleons, and got his first look at goblins.
Well…they certainly were unpleasant to look at.
Listening to Mr. Granger’s conversation with the goblin banker, Bruce’s mind wandered. He quickly noticed something odd in the way the wizarding economy worked—there were gaps in their currency exchange system that seemed easily exploitable. Even a child with access to both Muggle and magical money could probably bring it all crashing down.
Kathoom landed on Bruce’s shoulder just then.
“Forget about it, kid,” he muttered. “Economics are just tools. The foundations of society are built on power. Crumble the market, and the wizards would come down hard. Guess who’d suffer most? Regular Muggles.”
Bruce immediately abandoned the idea.
Meanwhile, Hermione chatted with him about the school.
“Hogwarts has four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw. Each House represents different traits, and I think I’ll be in Ravenclaw. It’s where the cleverest witches and wizards are.”
“Four Houses?” Bruce asked, intrigued. “What are the qualities they represent?”
Kathoom chimed in with a wry tone, “They represent Khorne, Nurgle, Slaanesh, and Tzeentch.”
—
T/N: Warhammer reference spotted!
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