Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [49]

Some days had passed since the crisis at Hogwarts had been averted.

Jason and Quirrell’s plot had been dismantled, yet an ominous shadow still loomed over Hogwarts—the reappearance of the school’s three founders.

At first, under the effects of the Soul-Binding Ritual, they had been reduced to Jason’s tools.

Now, with Jason gone, they were adrift, struggling to understand their purpose. Overwhelmed by this uncertainty, they had chosen to withdraw, for now.

With Gryffindor following them into the unknown, all four founders had vanished.

Everyone knew they were still alive—but no one knew where they had gone.

And, of course, the man who had vanquished Jason and appeared so dramatically in front of the entire school had become a hot topic of discussion.

“Everyone says Batman is Hogwarts’ guardian spirit!”

As Bruce headed down to the year-end feast, Justin trailed after him, chattering away.

“Makes sense, right? With all those bats at Hogwarts, maybe one of them actually turned into Batman!”

Batman—that was the name he had given when he’d revealed himself.

After the battle, he had held a private conversation with Dumbledore, Nicholas Flamel, and Newt Scamander.

The students didn’t know what they had discussed, only that it must have been important.

“I don’t care about Batman,” Bruce replied, eyes forward. “He’s just some weirdo in tights.”

“Batman is not a weirdo!” Justin protested, rushing to keep pace. “Listen to what I have to say! I bet you’ll become a fan once you know everything!”

But Bruce merely feigned disinterest.

His thoughts drifted back to that day, to the closed-door conversation they’d had after the battle.

—

“Deathly Hallows?”

In the headmaster’s office, a bandage floated in midair, wrapping itself around Dumbledore’s wounds.

Nicholas Flamel and Newt were slumped in their seats, both looking weary.

It had been years since they’d experienced a battle of this intensity.

But at that moment, they were all too stunned by the words Batman had spoken to care about their exhaustion.

“Are you saying you didn’t know?” Kathoom raised an eyebrow. “The Deathly Hallows—the Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, and Invisibility Cloak…”

“I know!” Dumbledore interrupted hastily, gesturing for Batman to stop. “We just need a moment to process what you’re saying.”

The founders revived through Jason’s ritual could not die. No ordinary means would send them back to the beyond.

The only possible solution was to unite the three Hallows and become the Master of Death.

Death would then retrieve those who did not belong to the world of the living.

It made sense, but Dumbledore was deeply troubled.

The idea of uniting the Hallows dredged up memories he had tried to forget.

It was then that Nicholas Flamel spoke.

“Batman, was it?”

Choosing his words carefully, he asked, “It’s not that we don’t believe you, but as things stand, we know almost nothing about you beyond your name. And, forgive me, but ‘Batman’ doesn’t exactly sound like a real name.”

He pressed on. “If we’re going to work together, there must be some honesty between us, don’t you think?”

Kathoom smirked. “And what would you consider honesty?”

“Remove your mask,” Nicholas replied. “At the very least.”

“That’s all? No problem.”

Without hesitation, Kathoom lifted his mask.

Nicholas inhaled sharply.

Beneath Batman’s mask… was another mask!

Kathoom simply lowered the mask back down. “There, you’ve seen what you wanted. If that’s not enough for you, I’m afraid you’ll have to accept it as it is.”

Dumbledore and his companions exchanged glances, understanding that this was as far as Batman would go.

It was time to consider Batman’s words seriously.

With Jason gone, the founders, freed from their forced loyalty, would slowly begin to reclaim their sense of self.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff might not become enemies of Hogwarts.

But Salazar Slytherin was another matter entirely. A blood-purist even in life, how would he react upon seeing the decline of pure-blood supremacy?

Especially with Voldemort at his side, whispering in his ear. The Second Wizarding War was almost upon them.

“I understand.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I’ll begin searching for the Resurrection Stone.”

Flamel and Newt shared a look, exchanging a silent question.

Were they not supposed to be searching for the Deathly Hallows? Why had Dumbledore specified the Resurrection Stone?

Could it be that he already knew the whereabouts of the other two?

“Good,” Batman replied. “Beyond that, you wizards need to prepare yourselves. If this second war begins in earnest, it will likely reach across the world.”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

With that, Batman had no more to say.

When Dumbledore looked up, Batman had already vanished without a sound.

“He’s gone?”

Dumbledore sounded a bit regretful. “I still have so many questions.”

Nicholas Flamel picked up on Dumbledore’s wistful tone and gave him a grave warning. “Albus, don’t go down that path.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. His words carried the weight of their shared understanding.

Nicholas knew Dumbledore’s history well, knew of those he wished he could bring back.

Watching the three founders return to life—Dumbledore couldn’t help but feel something stir within him.

But it was wrong.

The resurrection of the dead was not a power for them to control.

“I know, Nicholas, I know.”

Dumbledore sank into his chair, looking utterly spent.

The responsibilities he bore did not allow him the luxury of reckless ambition.

Pushing those feelings aside, Dumbledore returned his focus to the matter at hand.

“With war so close, the school’s curriculum must adapt. Next year, we’ll need to bring in some new professors.”

He added thoughtfully, “It’s time I sought out a few old friends. This is no ordinary situation—when faced with a common threat, even old grudges can be set aside.”

A few old friends?

Nicholas offered a noncommittal nod.

Dumbledore’s “few friends” were really just one, after all.

—

Batman’s silhouette reappeared outside the castle.

His body began to shrink, returning to his eleven-year-old form.

The body’s control reverted to Bruce.

“I’m exhausted!”

Kathoom slumped over Bruce’s shoulder, looking thoroughly drained.

Bruce himself was sore all over, yet he said nothing of it. His thoughts were still lingering on the conversation between Kathoom and Dumbledore.

“Deathly Hallows… the Resurrection Stone…” he murmured.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kathoom cut him off bluntly. “The Resurrection Stone won’t bring back your parents.”

“Then… what about the Dionesium?”

Bruce took out the vial, where more than half of the substance remained. Enough for seven more uses, at least.

“That won’t work either. If they were resurrected, you’d end up dead.”

The fate of the Wayne family in that alley was inescapable; at least one Wayne would die there.

Bruce looked up, wanting to say he’d gladly give his life in exchange for his parents.

But Kathoom had no interest in hearing it.

In a flash, the vial of Dionesium was in his talons.

“Stop dwelling on this. Until we get rid of Barbatos, you’ll never be free of your fate.”

Kathoom tucked the vial safely into his feathers. “I’ll hold on to this for now. I’ll give it back when you’re older.”