Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [45]

Gringotts, Underground Vault.

The sound of a loud thumping echoed through the vault, as though something was ramming against its iron door.

The goblins on duty noticed the commotion, immediately suspecting an intruder.

But before they could even confirm, the heavy door of a vault burst open, and a golden cup shot out, blasting through the floor and soaring toward the sky, knocking over a goblin on its way out.

Dazed, the goblin sat up, stars dancing in his vision before he snapped back to awareness and jumped to his feet, shouting, “Emergency alert! Emergency alert!”

—

In mere moments, the golden cup flew back into Helga Hufflepuff’s hands.

And just as quickly, she discovered her beloved cup had been made into a Horcrux.

“Filthy little thing!”

With a simple twist of her fingers, Helga shattered the soul fragment within.

Voldemort felt the pain of his soul being torn apart, agony shooting through him, but he still didn’t dare make a sound.

He didn’t dare make even the slightest noise!

After purging the soul fragment, Helga glanced over at Rowena Ravenclaw. “You should check your artifact too. It’s likely been turned into a Horcrux as well.”

The thought of her own diadem being defiled made Helga shudder.

Rowena, however, appeared unruffled. “I can’t check it. My daughter stole my artifact, and she cast a blocking spell on it. I can’t sense the diadem.”

Upon hearing this, Voldemort’s eyes teared up in relief.

Thank you, Lady Ravenclaw. You truly are the kindest of the four founders.

I really should have been sorted into Ravenclaw…

“Now that you mention it,” Helga mused, “I do recall you died from that.”

Rowena and Helga had been close friends in life, and Helga had mourned Rowena’s death deeply.

Yet now, in this twisted revival, she felt nothing as she brought up her friend’s tragedy.

The soul-binding ritual had eroded Helga’s once-gentle heart.

Holding her cup, Helga had an idea. Since she had summoned her artifact back, she might as well put it to use.

She tapped the edge of the cup three times.

At once, clear water filled the cup to the brim.

Helga took a sip, and the water turned into a radiant stream, bathing her skeletal form, each bone drinking in the restorative magic.

Then, a miraculous transformation occurred.

A thin layer of skin formed over Helga’s skeleton, expanding to fill out her robe. Her body began to mend itself, flesh and blood returning at a visible pace, reshaping her into the kindly, red-haired woman of her life—a younger version, even, appearing barely past her thirties.

Her expression, though, no longer held its old warmth and kindness.

“Helga,” Rowena suddenly said, “pass me the cup.”

“Too late. I drank it all,” Helga replied, wiping her lips with finality.

“I’m not asking—I’m informing you.”

With a wave of her hand, Rowena summoned the cup to her own hand, though Helga made no move to stop her.

Rowena caught the cup, which was still half full.

She downed the remaining water, and her own skeletal body began its restoration, reverting her bones to flesh.

Her appearance, too, grew younger, though her air of detached humor remained, a haunting beauty that felt almost intimidating.

Just then, Rowena noticed Salazar glancing over his shoulder.

“No need to look. It’s all gone.” Rowena tilted the cup upside down as proof. “Besides, you look much better now than you did with that monkey face.”

“I never cared for it anyway,”

Salazar muttered, turning his attention back to the fight.

At a distance, Helena Ravenclaw, the ghostly daughter of Rowena, stared at her mother’s living face, crying in despair, longing to run to her side and beg for forgiveness.

The Bloody Baron struggled to hold her back.

“That isn’t the real Lady Ravenclaw!” he insisted, whispering in Helena’s ear. “She’s nothing but a corpse reanimated—a monster, not your mother!”

But just as he spoke, he felt a cold stare pierce through him like a dagger.

Turning his head mechanically, he saw Rowena’s eyes fixed on him from afar, her gaze also encompassing Helena.

Yet, as the Baron had warned, she showed no motherly tenderness. To her, they were nothing more than unfamiliar ghosts.

Her love was gone.

In the midst of the battle, no one noticed that someone else—usually hard to miss—had vanished entirely.

Jason Todd had disappeared. The moment Gryffindor showed up, Jason knew he wasn’t needed here.

With the stealth techniques he’d mastered from the Bat Family, he slipped away from the chaos.

He had his true target in mind.

The young bat trapped below.

—

The Room of Erised, Underground.

Bruce had heard the full scope of Kathoom’s plan.

Most of it made sense, but there was one part he didn’t understand.

“Why do you think Batman could be the fifth person in this fight?”

Bruce asked, with a wry smile. “I mean, I’ve already failed.”

And failed miserably, mocked openly by Quirrell.

“Bruce Wayne can admit defeat, but Batman can’t.”

Kathoom countered. “Do you really want Batman’s first appearance to be a shameful secret no one mentions? Quirrell mocked your dreams—don’t you want to set things right? And Jason, that guy’s running wild. Don’t you think he deserves a good thrashing?”

“In fact, I could just take you and leave right now. We can apparate out of here anytime.”

“But Bruce, think carefully. Isn’t this the perfect moment for Batman to emerge and put things back in order?!”

His words struck a nerve, stirring a deep sense of defiance within Bruce.

Yet, he couldn’t deny that he still lacked the necessary strength.

“I’m not ready,”

Bruce shook his head. “How could Batman, as I am now, turn the tide?”

Kathoom chuckled. “Simple. I’ll be Batman, then.”

As he spoke, his aura shifted, no longer held back.

A bond formed, syncing Bruce’s heartbeat with Kathoom’s.

On the wall, the shadow of the owl grew, expanding as he spread his wings to cover Bruce completely.

At the same time, Bruce’s own shadow stretched and elongated, as though the eleven-year-old had suddenly grown to a man in his twenties.

Finally, Kathoom and Bruce merged into one, and an entirely new Batman stood within the room.

He looked identical to the Batman of the main world, though his soul was something else.

“Hehehe!”

Batman looked at his own form and let out an uncontrollable laugh.

“Ha, haha… Hahahahaha!—cough, cough, gag—laughed too hard.”

—

T/N: Woah they have A FUSION? NOT TO MENTION KATHOOM IS LIKE 10X BRUCE