Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [101]

Kathoom never expected that the seventeen-year-old Voldemort still harbored such thoughts.

Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, Voldemort had fabricated an entirely new backstory for himself in his dreams.

Parents who truly loved each other.

Born out of love.

And he had even respected his mother's wishes, refraining from giving himself a different father.

He erased the truth about his father's death entirely.

In reality, old Tom Riddle had been killed by young Tom's own hand. Yet in the dream, his father had died in a car accident.

One had to wonder if Voldemort had hesitated, even for a second, when he killed his own father.

"Ah, how tragic, how bitter!"

Kathoom let out a few exclamations, as if lamenting on Voldemort's behalf.

What you can't have, and what you can't let go—Lockhart's words on obsession found vivid expression in Voldemort.

Kathoom had no intention of waking him up. If Voldemort wanted to honor his mother in his dreams, so be it.

Kathoom was merely passing through his dreams on the way to find Bruce.

The owl flapped its wings and flew out the window, soaring and soaring until it reached the edge of the dreamscape.

There, suspended outside, were countless floating orbs of light.

These were individual dreams.

As the conduit for the silvery beam of light, the diary linked all these dreams together.

"What a chaotic sensation!"

Although Bruce's soul was connected to his, the owl couldn't identify which orb belonged to the little bat.

He could only trust the bond between them.

Kathoom picked an orb at random and flew into it.

Bruce, here I come!

---

"I have always upheld a belief—"

"To bring harmony where there is conflict;"

"To proclaim truth where there is falsehood;"

"To instill faith where there is doubt;"

"To awaken hope where there is despair!"

"Thank you all. From today onwards, I will deliver to the world a renewed magical society!"

In a space resembling a council chamber, Hermione stood on a platform dressed in adult attire, delivering an oath to the gathered council members.

The audience below was composed of familiar faces—Harry, Ron, Neville—all still in their childlike appearances but dressed as adults.

It was as if all of Hogwarts had been transplanted here.

Kathoom materialized out of thin air and sighed helplessly.

He had come to the wrong place. This was Hermione's dream.

Despite trusting his bond with Bruce, he'd made a mistake.

Clearly, the fault lay entirely with Bruce.

Once Bruce woke up, he'd need to do some serious reflecting.

On stage, the inaugural speech concluded, and Hermione officially assumed the position of Minister of Magic.

Having never seen the actual Ministry of Magic, she had modeled it entirely after Buckingham Palace, down to the last detail.

Sitting behind her desk, Hermione faced Bruce, who was bowing obsequiously before her.

"Bruce, from today onwards, I appoint you as my first secretary to handle various affairs for me!"

"Thank you, Minister!" Bruce's face lit up with joy in the dream.

Hermione frowned.

"How many times have I told you?" she chastised. "When we're at work, use titles!"

"Yes, Madam Minister!"

Kathoom watched the scene unfold with amusement, lingering a moment longer, but failing to see what he had hoped for.

He erupted into a tirade.

"Damn you, Hermione! All my kindness to you was wasted!"

Anger consumed him. "You've become Minister of Magic, yet you didn't even erect a statue in my honor!"

With that, he turned and flew out of her dream.

Hermione didn't deserve to be awakened.

---

Kathoom tried countless dreams after that.

He saw Harry with his parents alive, Malfoy offering his loyalty to Harry, Ron basking in universal admiration, and Neville enjoying a joyous family reunion.

Wait.

Pausing at Neville's dream, the owl lingered for a moment.

Normally shy and reserved, Neville was now laughing happily with his parents.

Kathoom thought for a moment. Neville's parents weren't dead, were they?

They had been tortured into madness by Death Eaters and were now confined to a mental hospital.

If that was the case, there was still hope.

He made a mental note to pressure Bruce into finding a way to help Neville later.

Leaving Neville's dream behind, Kathoom entered the next one.

As soon as he did, everything around him darkened. All traces of magic disappeared, replaced by a city—a city cloaked in shadow.

Gotham.

"Finally found you!"

Kathoom flapped his wings, scanning the city for the little bat.

Sure enough, he found him.

Bruce wasn't dreaming of anything adult-like. He was still a child—perhaps even younger.

The twelve-year-old Bruce had reverted to his eight-year-old self.

He had returned to the night that changed his life forever.

Bruce and his parents had just finished watching The Mask of Zorro and were on their way home.

"But how did he become Zorro?"

The innocent Bruce was still immersed in the performance. "Why can't I become Zorro?"

He mimicked Zorro's moves, waving his arms enthusiastically in front of his mother.

"Haha!"

Thomas Wayne let out a hearty laugh. "I'm not sure Gotham would welcome a masked man taking the law into his own hands.

"The unfortunate truth is, they'd probably throw someone like Zorro into Arkham Asylum!"

"What?"

Bruce didn't quite understand.

Who were the 'they' his father was referring to?

He barely heard the rest of the sentence, only remembering, 'Zorro would end up in Arkham.'

Before they knew it, they had reached the infamous alley of fate.

Kathoom perched silently on a lamppost, watching the Wayne family.

He didn't immediately wake Bruce, allowing the dream to play out.

He wanted to see if the things holding Bruce back still lingered.

Though Kathoom made no sound, Bruce felt his presence, looking up to spot the owl.

"Mom, look, an owl!"

Little Bruce pointed at Kathoom, beaming with joy.

He couldn't explain why seeing the owl made him so happy.

Martha smiled. "Seeing an owl means we'll have good luck tonight, Bruce. Make sure to show it kindness!"

In Western culture, owls symbolize luck and wisdom.

"Okay!"

Bruce waved at Kathoom cheerfully, following his mother's advice.

On the other hand, Thomas's expression darkened when he saw the owl.

The word 'owl' seemed to trigger some unspeakable taboo for him.

"Let's go."

He grabbed Bruce's hand and quickened their pace into the alley.

Kathoom watched them silently.

Moments later—

Bang! Bang!

Two gunshots echoed, and the tragedy unfolded once more.

Kathoom flapped his wings, entering the alley to witness the scene.

"Ah, as expected," he muttered.

Inside the alley, young Bruce cowered in his mother's embrace, trembling.

Martha shielded his eyes with her hand.

Meanwhile, Thomas Wayne stood before them, bloodied and gasping for air.

A robber lay in a pool of blood, lifeless, his eyes wide open as he stared at Gotham's dim sky.

Kathoom had finally seen Bruce's truest inner self.

From beginning to end, he had never let go of that nightmarish memory.

Even in his subconscious, he remembered Kathoom's words:

Someone had to die in that alley that night.

So Bruce created this dream.

His parents lived.

He survived.

The robber died.

---

Kathoom had seen many dreams, and children's dreams were usually filled with whimsical fantasies, free from painful memories.

Even Harry, another orphan, dreamed of living happily with his parents.

Voldemort entirely skipped over the night at Godric's Hollow—it didn't exist.

But Bruce was different.

His dream was a recreation of real events.

That nightmare was displayed in all its bloody detail, only the outcome changed.

Even in his dreams, he remembered every detail of that alley.

"You're making this so difficult for me!"

Kathoom thought. If he forced Bruce awake, making him lose his parents again, it would feel as if he was the one turning Bruce into an orphan.

But there was no other choice.

He had brought Bruce away from Gotham to help him grow—to one day return stronger.

And perhaps earn some strength in return.

If Bruce remained trapped here, Kathoom would be at fault.

"Bruce, wake up!"

Kathoom called out to him, urging his consciousness to return.

But Bruce didn't respond.

It was as if he couldn't hear anything, continuing to play the role of an eight-year-old boy.

Kathoom immediately understood.

To awaken Bruce, it couldn't be done through force. Bruce had to come to terms with it himself.

He had to willingly leave his parents and return to reality.

"What a hassle!"

Kathoom grumbled, but quickly resigned himself to the situation.

After all, time flowed differently in the dream world. Decades here would pass in the blink of an eye in reality.

Spending some time here wasn't the worst thing.

Otherwise, even if Bruce escaped this dream's cage, he'd just enter a larger one.

---

The Wayne family emerged from the alley unharmed.

The police arrived quickly. After confirming their safety and that the man in the alley was a repeat offender, they breathed a sigh of relief.

If Gotham's wealthiest family had died under such mysterious circumstances, the officers wouldn't have known how to handle it.

Fortunately, it was a false alarm. The Waynes finished their statements and returned home.

Back at Wayne Manor, Alfred had already heard the news. He stood anxiously at the entrance, waiting for them.

Finally, he saw the family of three approaching.

"Master Wayne!"

Tears welled in his eyes as he rushed forward, but Thomas waved dismissively, indicating they were fine and tears weren't needed.

Alfred bent down and took Bruce's hand.

"Master Bruce," he asked gently, "were you scared?"

"I'm not scared!"

Bruce forced a smile.

He wanted to say it was because his parents were with him.

But when the words came out, they changed.

"I'm not scared," he said. "I saw an owl today. It's protecting me!"

---

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