Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [97]

“Bruce? You’re back again?”

Dumbledore frowned as he saw Bruce return.

They were still attempting to force open the room’s door.

No matter what they tried—unlocking charms, blasting curses, Dumbledore had even tried breaking through the wall directly—

Nothing worked.

It felt as if some force had completely sealed the room, rendering any efforts to enter utterly futile.

Even peeking inside to see what was happening was impossible.

It was as though the room had ceased to exist in this world.

Just then, when Bruce should’ve already left, he reappeared.

For a man as patient as Dumbledore, even he felt a flash of irritation.

Did Bruce understand the situation here? A danger beyond even his comprehension was spreading!

By coming here, Bruce was putting himself at grave risk!

But then, Bruce gave a reason Dumbledore couldn’t ignore.

His face filled with urgency as he said, “Headmaster, there’s a third victim—it’s Professor Lockhart!”

“What?”

For a moment, Dumbledore’s heart raced.

What was going on today? The school was one crisis after another!

But he couldn’t leave this spot now. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Professor McGonagall and said, “Minerva, could you go, please, and bring Gilderoy to Madam Pomfrey?

“I’ll make further arrangements afterward.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and led Bruce away.

As they walked, Bruce was silent, looking appropriately worried, likely out of concern for Lockhart.

Professor McGonagall sighed inwardly. The strain on the students from recent events had become unavoidable.

Perhaps the best choice would be to suspend classes.

Meanwhile, out of McGonagall’s sight, Bruce was quietly exchanging thoughts with Kathoom.

“You really couldn’t see anything?” Bruce asked.

“Nothing. That room is cut off completely,” Kathoom said. “And Bruce, there’s something important I need to point out.”

“Go on.”

Kathoom recalled his observations outside Gryffindor’s room, double-checking his instincts before saying—

“That force cutting off the room—it isn’t magic from this world!”

Bruce froze for a moment.

Kathoom’s meaning was clear.

This entire school year, nearly half gone, and he hadn’t heard a word about any pursuers from the DC world.

Bruce had remained vigilant, prepared.

But sometimes he wondered: had someone already come to this world before him? Perhaps Barbatos wasn’t sending another pursuer… or wasn’t planning to for a while.

But now, the truth was clear—the pursuers had already arrived.

Only this time, the enemy wasn’t someone flashy and loud like Jason; it was someone lurking in the shadows, already within Hogwarts itself.

Bruce suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He mentally retraced every moment of the past semester, searching for signs of the intruder.

“Bruce?” Professor McGonagall looked back, noticing he’d paused. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine, Professor,” Bruce replied with a smile. “Just a bit of a stomach ache.”

He resumed walking alongside her.

“I know now, Kathoom!”

Bruce’s voice was resolute. “The reason we haven’t seen signs of the pursuer isn’t due to oversight—it’s because Hogwarts has a spy!”

“That’s what I’m thinking too,” Kathoom agreed.

Bruce continued, “It’s simple logic. If a pursuer were here, it’s impossible I’d detect nothing since I’m their sole target.

“This year alone, we’ve had at least four victims—Lavender, Snape, Lockhart, and possibly even Gryffindor.

“They keep getting attacked, yet I’ve been untouched. Something isn’t adding up!”

Kathoom had no objections to Bruce’s analysis.

“I’m thinking the same thing,” he replied.

Bruce concluded, “So, my guess is the pursuer made a deal with someone at Hogwarts. They have a goal to complete before coming for me!”

“Exactly my thought,” Kathoom agreed.

Bruce actually had a suspect in mind, though he lacked solid proof.

Perhaps the one aiding the pursuer was Rowena Ravenclaw.

Yet, every time he attempted to pursue this line of reasoning, it was as if his mind clouded, a misty haze blocking his thoughts.

Some force was preventing him from going any further.

—

Bruce and Professor McGonagall arrived at the scene of Lockhart’s attack.

The poor Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was still sprawled there, wearing a smile, though devoid of his usual flamboyant charm.

“Oh, poor Gilderoy.”

Professor McGonagall sighed. “He must have faced a powerful enemy and resisted courageously. You can see he’s still in a fighting stance.”

Bruce nodded, indeed—because this “fighting stance” had been set up by Kathoom after he’d woken up and flown back to the scene.

As Kathoom put it, if Lockhart couldn’t be saved, he at least deserved to be found in a dignified position.

Lockhart was no lightweight, and moving him clearly wouldn’t be easy for Professor McGonagall alone.

Bruce was about to help when he saw her raise her wand and give a few taps.

Lockhart’s body floated up, posed in a slightly slumped, standing position, tilting his head as he followed along behind Professor McGonagall.

“Let’s go.”

She led him to the hospital wing, Lockhart bobbing up and down behind her in his off-kilter stance.

The sight was bizarre, to say the least.

After helping bring Lockhart to the hospital wing, Bruce didn’t linger. At Professor McGonagall’s insistence, he returned to the common room.

The outside world was too dangerous now.

Back in his room, Bruce said to Kathoom, “It’s happening soon, isn’t it?”

“Almost certainly.”

Kathoom replied, “If Gryffindor’s even been affected, then no one’s safe in this school.

“If Dumbledore doesn’t take action soon, Hogwarts will have to close.”

Bruce nodded. All they could do now was wait.

Wait for the day when Dumbledore could finally talk some sense into Voldemort.

—

Bruce expected to have at least a few more days.

But in reality, the very next day, the Ministry sent an envoy.

And it wasn’t just anyone—it was the Minister for Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge.

His meeting with Dumbledore was private, and no one else was allowed to listen.

But Kathoom was an exception.

After all, who could refuse an adorable owl?

“Dumbledore, I’ve been shouldering all this pressure for you!”

Fudge sat across from Dumbledore, visibly anxious. “But you can’t keep having zero results. I need something to show the council!”

“In fact, Cornelius, we do have results.”

Dumbledore took out the diary and placed it on the desk.

The cover was scorched with black marks, as though it had been burned.

“What’s this?” Fudge scowled, seeing nothing but an ordinary diary. How could this be the breakthrough?

“Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll conduct a séance ritual using this diary.”

Dumbledore explained, “During that ritual, we’ll identify the true culprit. Cornelius, if you’re interested, you’re welcome to observe.”

“Of course I’ll be there!” Fudge’s instincts as a politician immediately kicked in.

Hogwarts held unparalleled importance in the British magical community.

With the school in crisis and widespread fear, being present when it was resolved would be a huge political win for him.

Fudge quickly decided—not only would he attend, but he’d also bring reporters.

Dumbledore saw right through him and calmly reminded, “No journalists will be allowed in the ritual room.”

…

Initially, Dumbledore hadn’t planned to allow many people into the séance.

But somehow, word got out too quickly, and by that afternoon, visitors had started showing up.

The first was Harry.

He looked at Dumbledore, helpless and pleading as he made his request.

“Other than Professor Snape, I have almost no one left…”

Tears filled his eyes. “Whether the ritual succeeds or not, I want to stay by his side!”

Dumbledore had intended to refuse, but when he met Harry’s gaze, he found himself unable to say no.

What could he say?

Dumbledore knew better than anyone how much Harry had suffered.

Parents dead due to a godfather’s betrayal, an aunt who was practically abusive.

Snape was the closest thing Harry had to a real family.

“Very well, Harry. You may join,” Dumbledore sighed. “But I hope, no matter what you see, you’ll remain calm.”

“I will!” Harry nodded earnestly.

After Harry left, the office fell silent for a long time.

Then, someone knocked on the door.

When it opened, it was Bruce.

“Professor, I want to join the séance!” he declared without preamble.

The request was baffling.

Dumbledore frowned. “Bruce, you don’t usually show much concern for Professor Snape, do you?”

“It’s not about Professor Snape.”

Bruce looked downcast. “It’s Professor Lockhart I’m worried about!”

What?

Dumbledore wracked his brain, unable to recall any indication that Bruce and Lockhart were close.

“Headmaster, you might not realize it, but Professor Lockhart and I are kindred spirits.”

Bruce said this with a straight face. “There’s almost nothing we keep from each other. A true bond…”

“Out!”

Dumbledore couldn’t listen any longer. They were flocking to him one after the other. What were they thinking?

The séance would be dangerous; a single slip could summon unforeseen horrors.

Young wizards would be more of a distraction than a help.

One was enough—he couldn’t allow anyone else!

Dumbledore had intended for this to be a secret ritual, but unfortunately, secrecy had failed.

But then again, who had leaked the plan?