Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

Time flew by.

Bruce celebrated his thirteenth birthday during his time at Hogwarts.

In the weeks following the events in the Ravenclaw Chamber, the school focused heavily on providing psychological counseling for its students—and Bruce was no exception.

After all, only a select few knew that he was the only student who had consciously awakened from the dream.

During his counseling sessions, Bruce presented himself as a kind and harmless child.

"I dreamed about my parents," he explained, carefully maintaining his fabricated backstory. According to Hogwarts records, Bruce was an orphan who had grown up in a Muggle orphanage, never knowing his parents.

"We lived together in a big house, happy and carefree."

It was a simple, believable story, and it allowed him to pass through the counseling process with ease.

His counselor, Professor Sprout, was sympathetic.

"You poor child," she said, her tone warm and gentle. "Don't worry. If you live your life to the fullest, your parents will surely be watching over you from above."

"I know, Professor." Bruce even managed to squeeze out a few tears.

When he exited the counseling room, Kathoom was waiting for him.

"Well, it seems not all the dreams were without merit," the owl remarked, having spent the session peeking at Sprout's notes.

The records included transcripts from many students, and the range of responses varied widely. While some were left unaffected, dreaming only of distant futures, others were deeply impacted.

For some, the dreams had instilled a clear sense of purpose, motivating them to work toward their goals.

But for others, the dreams only exacerbated feelings of loss or longing:

"I dreamed my dad didn't drink, and he never hurt us," said one girl.

"I dreamed my mom never left and stayed by my side," said a boy.

"I dreamed I wasn't an orphan," Bruce had said.

The school wasn't just collecting dreams for counseling purposes.

In cases like the girl who spoke of her abusive father, steps had already been taken. A professor had visited her home for a "friendly chat" with her father.

Outside of life and death, there was still time to set things right.

"Hogwarts is healing," Kathoom observed. "Though, I wonder when their teaching standards will finally catch up."

Perhaps to a level that would satisfy even the founders?

---

Before long, Easter arrived.

During the holiday, second-year students faced an important decision: selecting courses for their third year.

For Hermione, this was no trivial matter.

"This will shape our futures," she declared with unwavering seriousness to her friends.

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Bruce were gathered with her.

Perched on Hermione's shoulder was a scruffy little ragdoll.

Hermione had found the doll in the common room one evening. Initially hesitant to keep it, she found the doll oddly persistent—it followed her wherever she went, acting as though it already knew her.

After Professor Dumbledore assured her it posed no danger, Hermione decided to keep the doll, even giving it a name: Mewyn.

Now, the two were inseparable. Occasionally, they would even sit together reading Lockhart's books. After all, Lockhart's true nature hadn't yet been revealed.

"Enchantress must hate Ravenclaw now," Bruce thought. "In her eyes, the real Lockhart has already fallen victim to Ravenclaw's schemes."

Returning to the topic of course selection:

"I just want to focus on Potions," Harry admitted. "Professor Snape's been acting strange since he came back. It's like he's avoiding me."

Harry knew why, of course.

But he didn't care. Snape had always treated him kindly, and Harry saw him as family.

"But you have to pick some electives!" Hermione insisted. "Otherwise, you'll waste your time here—and you might even fail the year!"

"I know, I know," Harry sighed. Making decisions wasn't his strong suit.

"I heard Lockhart isn't coming back next year," Ron chimed in, grinning. "Finally ran out of tricks, I bet."

Ron had always thought Lockhart was too good to be true—a flashy fraud.

And, of course, there was the added satisfaction of teasing Hermione.

As expected, Hermione's response was sharp and immediate.

"Don't you dare insult Professor Lockhart!"

Mewyn, the doll on her shoulder, sprang to life, leaping at Ron's face and kicking his nose before darting back to Hermione's shoulder.

Ron and Hermione quickly devolved into a full-blown argument.

Harry ignored them, lazily pointing his wand at the list of courses and picking his electives at random.

Meanwhile, Neville was buried in letters from his relatives, each offering conflicting advice on which subjects to take.

Their well-meaning guidance left him overwhelmed.

If Neville followed all their suggestions, he'd end up taking every single class—which was, of course, impossible.

Or so he thought.

Unbeknownst to him, Bruce had already signed up for every available course without hesitation.

This was Hermione's suggestion: choose everything, and let the school handle the logistics.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Professor Sprout summoned Bruce to her office.

"Bruce, come with me," she said.

When they arrived, they found Hermione and Professor McGonagall already there.

McGonagall held two course selection forms in her hands.

"Miss Granger," she began, "are you certain about taking every course? I must warn you, this will consume nearly all of your time."

"I'm sure, Professor!" Hermione nodded firmly, pulling Bruce to stand beside her. "And Bruce feels the same way!"

McGonagall turned to Bruce, who gave her a sheepish, forced smile.

"Very well," McGonagall sighed. "In that case, we'll have to apply for two Time-Turners."

After all, Hermione and Bruce were in different houses.

"What's a Time-Turner?" Hermione asked, curious.

"It's a device that allows you to turn back time. Applying for one through the Ministry is quite the ordeal," McGonagall explained.

"But without it, you wouldn't be able to attend all your classes. Hermione, Bruce, I'm willing to make this effort because you're exemplary students."

Her expression grew stern.

"But you must promise me—absolutely promise—that you'll never use the Time-Turner for anything unrelated to your studies."

"I promise!" Hermione said eagerly.

"Me too!" Bruce nodded.

McGonagall wasn't entirely sure what Bruce was agreeing to, but she decided to let it go.

"All right, you may go."

---

The rest of the summer term passed under bright, sunny skies.

When the term finally ended, Professor Gale approached Bruce.

"Don't slack off during the holidays," he warned. "Don't make me regret taking you on as a student!"

Bruce nodded solemnly, vowing to uphold his teacher's trust.

After the final feast, Bruce and Hermione boarded the train home together.

"Professor Lockhart's gone," Hermione said, sounding disappointed. "I was really hoping he'd stay."

"Everyone has their own path," Bruce replied vaguely.

Meanwhile, Kathoom was perched on Hermione's shoulder, mercilessly pecking at Mewyn the doll.

"Kathoom, stop bullying Mewyn!" Hermione scolded, scooping up the owl to protect her doll.

Mewyn was just the latest addition to Hermione's ever-growing collection of "-wyns"—from Wayne and Ron to this peculiar little doll.

After rescuing Mewyn, Hermione sighed again.

"I wonder who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be next year."

"Hopefully someone normal," Bruce said, his tone carrying a hint of irony.

Surely not every Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would bring chaos to Hogwarts.

…Right?

---

Far to the north of England, the skies were overcast, and waves crashed against jagged rocks.

A small boat docked on the rocky shore, and a hooded figure jumped out.

"Finally out on parole!" the figure exclaimed, lowering his hood to reveal a comically smug face.

Gibbon, the dark wizard.

"Parole?" came a voice from behind him. "I thought Azkaban was rather nice."

Another man stepped off the boat, thin and gaunt, with a weary expression.

Remus Lupin.

"At least in Azkaban, they feed you and give you a place to sleep," he added wryly. "Dementors can't hold a candle to the despair of real life."

"What's so bad about your life?" Gibbon scoffed. "You're barely out of prison, and Hogwarts has already sent you an invitation!"

"True…" Lupin said, pulling a letter from his robes.

It was a teaching offer from Dumbledore, who had not forgotten him despite his mistakes.

"Lupin, buddy!" Gibbon suddenly piped up, rubbing his hands together. "I've got nowhere to go. Think I could tag along and be your assistant?"

Lupin considered the idea and finally nodded.

"Let me ask Dumbledore. If you're willing to turn over a new leaf, he might give you a chance."

Even if it meant starting as a janitor, Gibbon was willing.

Besides, there was important work awaiting them at Hogwarts—work that might need every pair of hands available.

"What do you think?" Lupin turned to a large black dog that had just jumped off the boat.

The dog barked in agreement.

---

"Ready?" Kathoom asked Bruce.

Bruce adjusted his pack.

"Ready."

The portal to the multiverse opened, and the owl and the boy disappeared into its shimmering depths.

Once again, they were surrounded by the kaleidoscopic swirl of the dimensional corridor.

"I'm taking you somewhere special this time," Kathoom announced.

"We're going to meet real heroes."

He dove headlong into the next world, dragging Bruce with him.

---

This was a world of superpowers.

Countless heroes dedicated their lives to fighting crime and protecting the innocent.

And among them, seven stood above the rest.

They were called the Seven.

---

T/N: THE BOYS ARC STARTS!

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