Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [83]

Bruce had never encountered someone as shameless as this.

At that moment, Lockhart had abandoned all pretense, lying flat on the floor, pleading with Bruce and desperately trying to explain himself.

“I was only trying to salvage a bit of my reputation!”

His voice trembled. “I’m a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class. How can I let it be known that I was threatened without even putting up a fight? My image would be ruined!

“But I swear I’m not the person you’re looking for! If you don’t believe me, you can even use Legilimency on me!”

With that, Lockhart squeezed his eyes shut, as though bracing himself for any fate.

Bruce almost laughed at Lockhart’s shameless behavior.

He didn’t believe a word of it, but he refrained from using Legilimency. Who knew if Lockhart was skilled in Occlumency?

“Forget it, Professor Lockhart. You can get up.”

Bruce softened his tone, putting his wand away and helping Lockhart to his seat.

Lockhart was stunned, unsure why Bruce’s attitude had changed so suddenly.

“Don’t look at me like that, Professor Lockhart. You’re the teacher here.”

Bruce said, “I may have acted a bit brash in trying to find the culprit. You don’t hold it against me, do you?”

“Of course not! Absolutely not!”

Lockhart waved his hands dismissively, insisting he hadn’t taken the matter to heart at all.

“Good. I was worried that my threats might get me expelled.”

Bruce patted Lockhart’s shoulder. “So, let’s keep this between us. And I’ll be sure to come by and consult you often, Professor.”

In Lockhart’s ears, this sounded very different.

It was a thinly veiled threat.

Immediately, Lockhart pounded his chest and promised, “You can count on me! With our shared secret, we’re practically allies! I’ll keep it zipped!”

Then he even opened his arms, saying, “Come, let’s seal it with a hug to show my sincerity!”

Bruce shoved him away. No way he was giving him a hug.

“I hope you haven’t lied to me, Professor. That way, we can get along just fine.”

Bruce sighed, adding, “I really don’t like using force. After all, I’m not some kind of monster.”

With that, he finally left.

Lockhart waited a moment, then slowly got up once he was sure Bruce had gone.

A cold smile curled at his lips. “Everything is going according to plan.”

BAM—

The window rattled in the wind.

“Eek!”

Lockhart dropped to the floor in an instant, hands over his head, diving under the desk faster than lightning.

—

Bruce and Kathoom made their way back to the common room.

“Now it’s up to Lockhart,” Bruce said. “If he doesn’t report me, it means he’s hiding something.”

Bruce didn’t trust the goodness in Lockhart’s heart, so he was betting on his darker side.

“Was all that really necessary?”

Kathoom commented. “You could just steal some Veritaserum from Snape’s storeroom. I’ve been in there—lots of goodies.”

Bruce shook his head, not wanting to resort to that.

“Veritaserum, spells—they all have their flaws,” Bruce replied. “If I rely on those things, it’ll come back to bite me someday.”

In this world, apart from the Unforgivable Curses, every spell had a counter-curse.

Similarly, every potion had an antidote.

And often, shoving a bezoar down someone’s throat solved most poison problems.

“Suit yourself,” Kathoom said, dropping the matter.

They turned a corner, arriving at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. But just then, Bruce spotted Dumbledore standing there, as if waiting for someone.

“Ah, Bruce, I was just wondering when you’d be back.”

Dumbledore greeted him with a kindly smile, clearly expecting him.

“Professor Dumbledore, you were looking for me?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, there’s a favor I’d like to ask.”

Dumbledore said casually, “I noticed you’ve struck up a bit of a rapport with Professor Gael Green, haven’t you?”

Inwardly, Bruce frowned. This old man seemed to know everything. Did he have eyes everywhere?

“Yes, Headmaster,” Bruce admitted. “I met him briefly on the train.”

“Splendid.”

Dumbledore looked relieved. “In fact, I’d like you to ask Professor Gael to examine something.”

From within his robes, he pulled out a vial containing a single silver thread, floating lazily inside.

“This is a memory I retrieved from Miss Brown’s mind, but it’s…incomprehensible.”

Dumbledore sighed. “It’s tainted by a dark magic—Professor Gael may be able to help.”

Bruce understood now.

Dumbledore wanted him to ask Professor Gael Green for assistance?

But—

“Headmaster, why not go yourself?”

Bruce asked, puzzled. “I’m just a student. Surely your request carries more weight.”

“Oh, Bruce, it’s a complex matter. Difficult to explain.”

Dumbledore passed the vial to Bruce. “Let’s just say I’ve used up my last favor with Professor Gael, so I’m counting on you.”

Alright.

Bruce didn’t understand why Dumbledore had to make things cryptic.

But he could help out. After all, he’d be learning magic from the headmaster in the future.

Or, as Kathoom liked to say, he’d be “draining the old man’s vault of Galleons.”

—

Bruce arrived at Professor Gael’s office.

He gave a light knock, and the door opened on its own.

It was Bruce’s first time inside Professor Gael’s office, and its setup was entirely different from the other professors’ rooms.

The room held a variety of dark magic artifacts, though Bruce didn’t find it creepy.

On a nearby table sat a music box, playing a delicate, soothing tune that made Bruce think of summer.

On top of the music box was an ethereal figure, a young man radiating confidence, as if he had just completed a grand performance and was bowing in triumph.

Bruce wondered if this was a youthful image of Professor Gael himself. Had he crafted his likeness into a music box?

What vanity.

Then Bruce saw Professor Gael.

He was reclining in an armchair, eyes closed, with a hookah pipe in hand, wisps of smoke curling around him.

Bruce noticed that the other end of the hookah was shaped like a skull.

Was this even a respectable item for a proper wizard?

As Bruce approached, Professor Gael opened his eyes.

He glanced at Bruce, a faint, unreadable emotion flickering in his gaze.

Bruce suspected it was disappointment.

“I believe your name is Bruce Wayne?”

Professor Gael said, squinting. “So, you’re Dumbledore’s favorite student?”