The Grangers’ Ford car rolled down a winding country road.
Mr. Granger, a respectable dentist, had chosen a comfortable home in the suburbs for his family’s well-being—a charming, detached house.
In the backseat, Bruce sat beside Hermione, holding the clown doll his cousin had given him.
“From now on, I’ll protect you!”
Eleven-year-old Hermione already felt a fondness for her newfound cousin, slipping right into her role as the older sibling.
She couldn’t wait to share her biggest secret.
“Do you know about wizards? The kind that can do magic!”
Hermione’s birthday was September 19. Hogwarts letters were always delivered on a young wizard’s eleventh birthday, although the start of term was September 1.
This meant that Hermione had received her acceptance letter last year, though she’d had to wait almost an entire year to actually attend.
The wait had been agonizing. She’d memorized every textbook cover to cover and still had months to go.
“Magic?”
Bruce’s eyebrow arched as he thought about the owl-demon Kathoom and Barbatos from the time-space corridor.
It seemed magic was woven into every world.
“Yes, magic!”
Hermione lifted her chin, looking rather pleased with herself.
There was no malice in it; that’s just how she spoke.
“Our family—or, I should say, our new family—is all Muggles, but I have magical talent and got accepted to a wizarding school. Mum and Dad were so shocked!
“The school’s called Hogwarts. From what I’ve read, it’s the best magic school around!
“I’ve already memorized all my textbooks and practiced a few basic spells. And they worked! This means I’m a natural-born witch.
“With me around, if anyone dares to bully you, I’ll blast them away with magic!”
Bruce hadn’t yet responded, but Mrs. Granger, seated in the front, spoke up.
“Hermione!”
Her tone was stern. “Don’t boast like that in front of your cousin! How do you know he won’t be accepted to Hogwarts?”
Kids could be a bit tactless sometimes, but Mrs. Granger was sensitive to Bruce’s past.
After ten years of hardship, he might feel insecure. Hearing Hermione show off might unintentionally hurt him.
She turned to Bruce and asked, “By the way, Bruce, when’s your birthday? Hermione’s letter arrived on her birthday.”
“February 19th,” Bruce answered.
Screeeech—
Mr. Granger slammed on the brakes, and everyone lurched forward in their seats.
“That’s today!”
Mr. Granger gasped. “Bruce, why didn’t you tell us sooner? We haven’t even gotten you a cake or a gift!”
Bruce was puzzled. “Isn’t it written on my adoption papers?”
Mr. Granger quickly pulled out the paperwork from Wool’s Orphanage. Sure enough, under “Date of Birth,” it read February 19, 1980.
“Oh, bother!”
Mr. Granger slapped his forehead, realizing he’d completely overlooked it. Mrs. Granger was visibly upset at the oversight.
Luckily, she’d thought to ask about it!
Meanwhile, Hermione had picked up on something else.
“If today’s your birthday, Bruce, then your Hogwarts letter should be coming any moment now!”
Mrs. Granger’s face grew a bit sheepish. She’d only suggested Bruce might get a letter to cheer him up.
There was no guarantee he’d actually receive one.
“Bruce, Hermione…”
She began, intending to set realistic expectations, when suddenly there was a tapping on the window.
Coo-coo—
The sound of an owl’s hoot reached their ears.
They all turned to see a tiny owl, still wrapped in bandages, pecking at the car window with a rather pitiful expression.
Tied to the owl’s foot was a parchment envelope, bearing the Hogwarts crest with a lion, eagle, badger, and serpent.
Written neatly on the envelope was:
Backseat of Mr. Granger’s car—For Bruce Wayne.
Hermione’s eyes widened, and she let out an ear-splitting squeal.
“It’s here—!”
…Mrs. Granger accepted the letter, and the little owl flew off like a shot.
Before it left, it glanced around, as if ensuring a certain someone wasn’t nearby.
“That owl was in quite a rush.”
Mrs. Granger chuckled, then handed Bruce the letter.
She smiled warmly. “Go ahead and open it, Bruce. This is a special moment, and you should be the one to see it first.”
Bruce took the letter, carefully tearing it open to find Hogwarts’ official acceptance.
Without even looking, Hermione began reciting the letter’s contents from memory. She’d read her own letter so many times, it was practically burned into her mind; changing Bruce’s name was all it took.
Mrs. Granger watched the two children fondly. “My daughter has magical talent, and now my sister’s son has it too. It seems the magic gene runs in my family.”
Mr. Granger had no rebuttal to that.
Hermione was still reciting, “…Please await your owl by July 31 to return your acceptance. Oh no, Mum!”
She suddenly realized something dire.
“The owl already left! We forgot to give it the return letter!”
“Oh dear!”
Mrs. Granger now saw the problem as well.
Muggle families didn’t have owls, so they usually relied on the delivery owl to carry the response. Hermione had done this last year.
But this time, the owl had flown off in a hurry.
There was no choice, then.
Mrs. Granger gave Bruce an apologetic smile. “Looks like we’ll have to buy you an owl when we get your school supplies.”
“Can I have one too?” Hermione chimed in.
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Granger immediately vetoed the idea. “You still have trouble looking after yourself. Maybe when you’re in third year.”
Hermione looked thoroughly displeased, protesting, “That’s not fair, Mum!”
Bruce watched the mother and daughter’s playful quarrel with quiet amusement.
Then, he raised his hand and said, “Actually, I don’t think we need to buy an owl.”
“Oh?”
Hermione and Mrs. Granger both turned to look at him.
“Because I already have one.” Bruce glanced out the window and called, “Kathoom, come on out—I know you’re there!”
No one answered.
Bruce called again, but still, there was no response.
The atmosphere grew a bit awkward.
For the first time, Bruce felt the weight of embarrassment—an experience rivaled only by a grown-up Batman watching his early days with the Blue Beetle.
“I really do have an owl!”
Bruce tried to explain himself, but Mrs. Granger gave him a kind smile. “It’s alright, dear. Owls aren’t very expensive, so don’t feel bad. It’ll be a gift from your aunt.”
The family was still unaware of Bruce’s inheritance.
But her words of reassurance only deepened Bruce’s embarrassment.
Finally, he heard a voice outside the window that only he could understand.
“You’re a rude brat. Next time you call me, address me as Mr. Kathoom and remember to say please!”
Hearing Kathoom, Bruce let out a relieved sigh.
The added formalities didn’t bother him much; he could handle it.
“Mr. Kathoom, would you please come out?”
“Now that’s more like it.”
Kathoom appeared out of thin air, gracefully landing on Bruce’s shoulder.
The sight nearly made the entire Granger family jump.
Kathoom ignored them and began speaking in a calm, superior tone, “So, you need my assistance to visit Hogwarts, do you?”
—
T/N: HOPEFULLY Red Hood doesn’t find Bruce until like his 3rd year in Hogwarts or something…
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