Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [148]

Harry followed Professor McGonagall back to the Great Hall.

Although the check-up had been brief, it had still taken enough time for him to miss the Sorting Ceremony.

By the time he returned to the Gryffindor table, a few new faces were already seated there.

As Harry sat down beside Ron, he noticed his friend frantically patting himself down like he was checking for fleas.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Harry, do you remember if Scabbers was with me when we got off the train?” Ron asked, his face scrunched up in deep concentration. “I can’t find him anywhere. The last thing I remember is Mum handing him to me through the train window.”

After that, Ron had apparently paid no attention to his pet rat and had no idea when or where it might have gone missing.

“He’s usually curled up asleep in the pocket of my robes,” Ron lamented. “How could he suddenly disappear?”

“Maybe you left him in your luggage,” Harry suggested. “Check your trunk when we get back to the dormitory.”

“Are you looking for something?”

Neville popped his head in from the other side of the table. “I’m great at finding lost things. Want my advice?”

Ron hesitated, but considering Neville’s history with losing things, he nodded. “Go on, then.”

“My advice is: stop looking!” Neville said brightly. “The more you try to find it, the harder it’ll be. But the moment you give up, it’ll suddenly appear out of nowhere!”

“That’s rubbish,” Ron muttered, shaking his head.

Still, he looked genuinely upset about Scabbers. Remembering how the old rat had been acting lately, Ron’s eyes grew misty.

“Poor Scabbers… He’s so old,” Ron said mournfully. “Maybe he sensed his time was up and ran off to find a quiet place to die, so I wouldn’t have to see it happen.”

“Poor Scabbers,” Harry echoed sympathetically. “We should hold a memorial service for him someday.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ron agreed.

After comforting his friend, Harry shifted his focus to Professor Dumbledore’s speech.

It was the usual routine, with two exceptions: a warning about Dementors stationed at the school this year and an introduction of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Lupin, along with two new assistants, Gibbon and Hagrid.

Just as Harry’s attention started to drift, he felt something brush against his leg.

Looking down, he saw Professor Lupin’s large black dog.

The dog seemed to have recovered well from its earlier trembling on the train.

“Hello there!”

Harry had a good impression of Professor Lupin, and by extension, he was naturally fond of the dog.

He patted its head enthusiastically before grabbing two chicken drumsticks from Ron’s plate to offer it.

“It seems to really like you,” Ron observed. “When you fainted earlier, it stayed by your side the whole time, like it was looking after you.”

Really?

Harry noticed that the dog was gazing at him with an expression of longing and sorrow.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen such a look.

Sometimes, Professor Snape had a similar expression when he looked at Harry.

This realization made Harry feel a deep sense of trust and kinship with the dog.

“Come on, sit here with me,” Harry said, scooting over to make room for the dog between him and Ron.

The black dog seemed to enjoy the attention, wagging its tail happily.

The feast continued, with Harry and Ron sharing the table with the dog.

“By the way,” Ron said, his mouth full of food, showing no sign of his earlier sadness over Scabbers, “Professor Snape stopped by earlier. He was worried about you fainting and asked me to remind you to visit his office when you have time.”

At the mention of Snape, the black dog abruptly stopped eating its drumstick.

Harry responded without much thought. “Alright, I’ll go tomorrow. I feel bad about making him worry.”

“Snape’s been acting like he’s your dad or something,” Ron commented, frowning.

What?

The dog’s ears perked up, and it looked visibly alarmed.

“He really has been kind to me,” Harry mused, recalling the glimpse he’d had into Snape’s memories the previous year.

He added, “Of course, he’ll never actually be my father, but if he wanted to be my godfather, I wouldn’t mind.”

Clatter.

The drumstick bone fell from the black dog’s mouth and hit the floor.

At that moment, Sirius Black—the real godfather—felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

What happened while I was stuck in Azkaban?!

The dog lifted its head sharply, glaring at the staff table where Snape was sitting, his face stoic as he conversed with Professor McGonagall.

Sirius’s gaze was so intense that Snape seemed to sense it.

When Snape turned his head, he found himself locking eyes with a large black dog at the Gryffindor table, staring daggers at him.

Snape quickly looked away, muttering to himself, This is a bizarre day. Why is a dog glaring at me?

The dog growled softly, its anger boiling.

Sirius’s sense of urgency had never been higher. Thank goodness he and Lupin had come to Hogwarts.

Otherwise, Harry might have been “adopted” without him even knowing!

“Oh, I almost forgot—Snape also left this potion for you,” Ron said suddenly, pulling a vial from his pocket. “It’s supposed to help you relax. He asked me to give it to you, but I forgot. Haha!”

He handed the potion to Harry, who reached out to take it.

Before Harry could grab it, the black dog’s paw shot out, knocking the vial to the ground.

The glass shattered instantly, spilling the potion everywhere.

“You—!” Harry started but didn’t know what to say.

Without a backward glance, the dog jumped off the bench and bolted toward Professor Lupin, tail high as if it had just made an irreversible decision.

—

The commotion at the Gryffindor table went unnoticed by most.

At the Hufflepuff table, Bruce sat intently eavesdropping on the professors’ conversation.

Dumbledore was speaking with Professor Gael.

“So, Gryffindor is still sealed in that chamber?” Gael asked with a frown. “Ravenclaw has no intention of letting him out?”

“None,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “According to Lady Ravenclaw, Gryffindor has seen a thousand years more of the world than the rest of us. A few extra months of sleep is his due.”

“Can’t you release him yourself?” Gael asked, slicing into his steak. “After all, he was once a founder of your house.”

“I can’t,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “The magic Lady Ravenclaw used is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s a completely new form of magic.”

“A completely new form of magic?”

Gael’s interest was piqued. He murmured to himself, “I’ll have to investigate that sometime.”

The conversation ended, and Bruce stopped listening.

Looking around, he realized Kathoom still hadn’t returned.

That guilty owl must be hiding somewhere.

Bruce glanced at Cedric, who was eating nearby, and felt a twinge of guilt.

Knowing about counterparts, Bruce couldn’t help but recall Kathoom’s earlier comment about the two Batmen.

Cedric’s counterpart in the DC universe was also Batman.

Moreover—

Based on their earlier conversation, Bruce suspected Cedric might have gained the memories of his DC counterpart.

Kathoom said it had a way to deal with the metals.

Bruce frowned. So this was its solution?

The owl’s logic wasn’t hard to follow.

Opening the door to the Dark Multiverse required five types of metal and the main universe’s Batman.

Kathoom had apparently played a word game, replacing the main universe’s Batman with Cedric to bear the burden of the metals.

But will this really work?

Bruce was skeptical. Cedric was still Cedric; a counterpart couldn’t be a perfect substitute.

For now, only Kathoom could provide answers—once it returned.

—

After the feast, the students followed their prefects back to their common rooms, ready to begin the new school year.

The next morning, Bruce woke up early and immediately sat up, eager.

He glanced toward the egg-shaped nest beside his bed, pulling back the curtain to peek inside.

Kathoom had returned.

The owl lay on a tiny bed, snug under a blanket, snoring softly.

It looked thoroughly content.

Without hesitation, Bruce crawled into the nest’s enormous interior.

“Wake up,” he said, nudging Kathoom.

“Go away,” the owl muttered, swatting at him with a wing before rolling over.

“You—!”

Bruce’s thoughts flashed back to how Kathoom used to wake him—with books slammed on his head or feathers smacking his face.

Is it my turn now?

His hand hovered, ready to retaliate, but he hesitated.

It wasn’t pity—just instinct. He sensed he wouldn’t be able to hit Kathoom.

The owl was probably expecting it.

“Fine. Sleep all you want. Sleep forever, for all I care,” Bruce muttered, sighing as he turned to leave.

Then he spotted something on the workshop table: Thor’s hammer.

The previously shattered fragments had been reassembled into a complete hammerhead, though it still lacked a handle.

Instead, a makeshift handle had been fashioned in the shape of the Elder Wand.

Kathoom is still working on fixing Mjolnir, Bruce thought, picking it up curiously.

The moment he lifted it, the hammerhead crumbled back into fragments.

Bruce’s eyes widened. He glanced at Kathoom.

Still asleep.

Good. He sighed in relief.

Gathering the fragments into a pile, he covered them with a cloth and left the nest as if nothing had happened.

Time for breakfast.

When Bruce entered the Great Hall, he immediately spotted Malfoy.

The Slytherin was at the center of a crowd, animatedly recounting Harry’s fainting episode with dramatic flair.

“Hopeless,” Bruce muttered, shaking his head as he headed for the Hufflepuff table.

Breakfast was hearty—smoked fish, porridge, pies, and pumpkin juice.

Grabbing a few pies, Bruce sat down and reviewed his schedule.

“9:00: Divination. 9:00: Muggle Studies. 9:00: Arithmancy…”

His first day was already jam-packed, with three classes scheduled simultaneously.

“Bruce.”

Hermione appeared beside him, glancing around before lowering her voice. “Have you decided which class to attend first?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll start with Muggle Studies and then head to Divination,” Bruce said.

“Alright,” Hermione agreed, hesitating as if she had more to say.

Just then, a second-year Slytherin burst into the hall, looking panicked.

“Something terrible happened!”

He was breathless and wide-eyed.

Bruce frowned. What now?

Though Hogwarts was renowned for its safety, it wasn’t unusual for something catastrophic to happen every year.

But this early? On the first day of school?

“What’s going on?”

Malfoy strode up, assuming the role of an upperclassman.

“Stop babbling and explain yourself properly. What happened?”

“It’s Professor Snape!” the younger boy cried. “Professor Snape was bitten by a dog!”

—

This is a fan translation of 蝙蝠侠的猫头鹰教父 by 巴巴罗萨光年. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!