Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [27]

“Huh?”

“What?”

Bruce and Kathoom stared at each other, completely bewildered.

“How could you even think of giving it to Snape!” Kathoom squawked in disbelief. “I have no interest in watching a greasy old man turn into a greasy old woman!”

“Why would I want to give it to Potter?” Bruce shot back, equally appalled. “I don’t even know him! I just want to deal with Snape, not drag some random kid into this.”

Kathoom flapped his wings, positioning himself right in Bruce’s face. “Listen here, you’ve gotta trust me! Just do it my way—I need to see this happen!”

“Not a chance!” Bruce cut him off firmly, swatting the owl aside. “This potion is my work; there’s no way I’m letting you mess with it!”

Thanks to the binding contract between them, Bruce wasn’t worried that Kathoom could sabotage him. Everything was going according to his plan.

The potion brewing would be no exception!

“You think you’re the only one who can make potions?” Kathoom scoffed, fluttering backward. “I’m the King of Demons, remember? There’s nothing I can’t do!”

To emphasize, he flexed his wings like little arms.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even have the ingredients! Polyjuice requires expensive materials.”

“Oh yeah?” Kathoom retorted. “You don’t have the ingredients either!”

“I can buy them!” Bruce smirked, his arrogance fully on display. “As heir to the Wayne fortune, I’ve got nothing but cash to burn!”

“We’ll see about that.” Kathoom’s eyes narrowed, a gleam of mischief flashing in his gaze.

You might be rich, he thought, but I’m perfectly capable of stealing! If I can’t swipe it from you, I’ll just help myself to Snape’s stash…

—

The next few days, Bruce and Kathoom continued their cat-and-mouse game, each acting as if the other was a thief ready to strike. Both kept their potion-brewing progress strictly under wraps.

On Thursday evening, after class, Bruce headed to the Great Hall for dinner, balancing his books while Kathoom perched stiffly atop his head, scanning the crowd from on high. He refused to come down.

Fine, thought Bruce. I’ll pretend he’s just a very odd hat.

“Bruce!” Justin slid in next to him, glancing at the owl on his head. “What’s with your bird? You two having a spat?”

“Just ignore him,” Bruce replied, biting into his sandwich. “He’s crazy.”

Expecting a complete stranger to drink the potion just for a laugh? That’s peak insanity. Bruce couldn’t see why Kathoom thought seeing Harry transformed into a girl would have any entertainment value whatsoever, much less a connection to Snape.

Justin chuckled awkwardly, choosing to stay out of the strange standoff between Bruce and his owl.

Bruce continued eating, eyes scanning the newspaper, until a headline caught his attention.

“New Details in Gringotts Break-In.”

“Investigation into the Gringotts break-in on July 31st continues. The prime suspect is believed to be an unidentified dark wizard.

“Gringotts goblins reiterated today that nothing was stolen. The vault in question was, in fact, cleared out earlier on the day of the break-in.

“A Gringotts spokesperson declined further comment, warning the public not to interfere.”

Gringotts?

Bruce recalled his own recent trip to Gringotts, where the goblins had boasted that their vaults were the safest in the world.

Apparently, not that safe, he thought. Someone broke in.

Wait a minute… wasn’t Hogwarts also supposed to be “the safest place in the world”?

Bruce’s musings were interrupted by voices approaching from the entryway.

“Our first Potions class is tomorrow,” a boy was saying, his voice carrying across the hall. “But honestly, I get the feeling that Snape hates me.”

“Hates you?” another boy replied, confused. “You’ve only met him once, at the Sorting Ceremony.”

Bruce looked up and saw the speakers: Harry Potter and his red-haired friend.

As they walked away, Bruce suddenly felt his head lighten. He reached up, only to realize that Kathoom was gone.

Panic spiked in Bruce’s chest. He didn’t need to guess—Kathoom was no doubt flying after Harry, and that could only mean one thing.

Kathoom had finished his potion. And this whole time, he’d been waiting for his chance to plant it on Harry.

There’s no way he finished already! Bruce thought, heart racing. Even with the Half-Blood Prince’s notes, brewing Polyjuice Potion should take at least a week.

Somehow, Kathoom had pulled it off.

Jumping up, Bruce rushed after Harry, fully expecting to find Kathoom covertly slipping the potion into the boy’s bag or water bottle.

But just as he was about to catch up, a familiar voice called out.

“Bruce!”

He turned to see Hermione, smiling and waving as she approached.

“How have you been?” Hermione asked, adjusting her books. “Our schedules haven’t matched up lately. How are things going with your housemates?”

This delay was all it took. Before he could even respond, Bruce saw Kathoom flying back over, looking pleased with himself.

Kathoom fluttered down and resumed his perch on Bruce’s head, clearly triumphant.

“Kathoom, that’s not nice!” Hermione scolded, reaching up to lift the owl from Bruce’s head. “Are you two in some sort of argument?”

Bruce cast a sidelong glance at the owl, resigning himself to the inevitable.

Whatever Kathoom had set in motion was now out of his hands. Even if he tried to retrieve the potion, Kathoom would definitely thwart him.

Harry, I’ll apologize later, Bruce thought grimly.

He tried to focus on Hermione, who had a concerned look on her face.

Why did she ask about his friends first? Could it be that Hermione herself was having problems with her classmates?

—

The next day, Friday, marked the first Potions class for Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Harry was apprehensive as he headed for the dungeons.

Ever since the Sorting Ceremony, he’d felt uneasy about Professor Snape. The mere sight of him had made Harry’s scar ache—a feeling that left him wary.

And Harry was almost certain that Snape despised him.

“Why are you so jumpy?” Ron asked, noticing his friend’s tension. “Do you feel sick or something? Want some pumpkin juice?”

Ron held out his canteen, but Harry shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’ve got my own,” Harry said, pulling out his water bottle and taking a long gulp, then sighing in relief.

I’m probably overthinking it, he thought. Snape might not actually hate me.

“Come on, Ron, let’s go—”

Just then, Harry felt something strange.

His body seemed to tingle, almost as if it were melting, and suddenly he began to shrink. His hair grew longer, the color shifting to red.

Ron’s jaw dropped as he stared in shock.

Right before his eyes, Harry Potter—the black-haired boy—had transformed into a red-haired girl.

“Aaaah!” Ron screamed.

—

T/N: There it is, Rose Potter