Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [33]
"Thank you, dear Bruce," Kathoom said. "I was fully prepared for you to say the third Dark Lord was me."
"Oh, stop it!"
As Bruce walked back toward the common room, he continued his analysis in his mind.
"Listen to my reasoning: since the prophecy already states that a third Dark Lord will appear, then the rest of the prophecy must be hinting at who that person could be.
"To me, the key lies in the first line: from beginning to end!
"I've looked into Dumbledore's past. His rise to fame started with defeating the first Dark Lord. That was the beginning, the 'yesterday.'
"Then, over a decade ago, he fought against the second Dark Lord, Voldemort, and he's always believed that Voldemort would return. That's the present, or 'today.'"
At this point, Kathoom suddenly interrupted Bruce.
"Hold on a minute!"
Kathoom frowned. "You've investigated Dumbledore's background? When did you do this without me noticing?"
The school year had barely started, yet Bruce had managed to dig up the headmaster's entire history?
What was next for this little Bat? Today he was researching the headmaster; Kathoom didn't even want to imagine what Bruce would investigate tomorrow.
Bruce offered a quick explanation. "I did it while you were following Hermione around. Now, hush, and let me finish my analysis!"
He continued, "The crucial part is in the terms 'end' and 'future.' So, Kathoom, let me ask you: what do you think 'end' means?"
"End? Uh… Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, maybe?"
"What in Merlin's name are Deathly Hallows?"
Bruce frowned. He really regretted asking Kathoom anything, knowing the owl could never give a straight answer.
"The 'end' here clearly refers to the destruction of Hogwarts!"
Bruce declared confidently, "Doesn't it strike you as strange? If this prophecy is about a Dark Lord, it should be a nightmare for the entire wizarding world, yet the prophecy only mentions Hogwarts.
"The answer is obvious: the Dark Lord must be from Hogwarts itself—specifically, the headmaster.
"Hogwarts' end marks the beginning of the third Dark Lord!"
Bruce was entirely convinced by his theory, but Kathoom merely shook his head.
"It's a bit far-fetched," the owl said. "Your theory feels stale. It didn't have that 'aha' factor."
Bruce sneered. "That's because you lack insight. I could feel it in his gaze—Dumbledore was definitely acting suspicious back there in his office!"
"But that doesn't mean you can just go around accusing old Dumbledore of being a Dark Lord!"
Kathoom was intrigued now—not because he wanted to defend Dumbledore, but because he enjoyed the challenge of arguing with Bruce.
"Dumbledore has done so much for the wizarding world his whole life—has he ever committed any heinous crimes?"
"It's all a cover! A brilliant cover, so good he's even fooled himself!"
Bruce said with utmost certainty, "Did you see how he extracted my memory just now? I now have reason to believe he's used the same method on himself.
"Dumbledore could easily have removed memories of any dark deeds he committed, keeping only those that support his image as a model wizard. That way, no one would ever suspect him."
Kathoom was at a loss for words.
He felt that if he didn't step in, Bruce could come up with a thousand incriminating charges against Dumbledore.
This was the Batman effect.
Once Batman had suspicions, he wouldn't just presume innocence—he'd find a way to bring the suspect down, questions asked later. Even if it turned out he'd targeted the wrong person, Batman's only response would be:
"Why did you look so suspicious, making me doubt you in the first place?"
Guilty as charged!
"Enough, enough. Let's leave it there," Kathoom finally cut Bruce off, unwilling to hear more of his conspiracy theories. "If you're so convinced that Dumbledore's shady, why not investigate it yourself? You'd have a lot to discuss with Rita Skeeter."
"Rita Skeeter?" Bruce asked, intrigued.
"She's a reporter," Kathoom said dismissively. "She's made a career out of smearing Dumbledore. You two would make great partners in crime."
Learning she was just a journalist, Bruce lost interest instantly.
He was nearly back at the common room.
"Oh, by the way, you mentioned you wanted something from the headmaster's office. Did you find it?"
"Sure did."
"So quickly? How did you manage it in such a short amount of time?"
"The Demon King has his methods—don't ask."
---
It wasn't long before Bruce realized that Kathoom hadn't actually taken anything from Dumbledore's office.
Instead, he'd memorized some text and had been muttering about it ever since.
After a while, Bruce suspected that whatever Kathoom was researching must have come from something he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised.
There was no other explanation.
Time passed, and life at Hogwarts continued as usual.
During this time, Dumbledore hadn't revealed any suspicious behavior, leaving Bruce with no leads to pursue.
He'd given a certain potion recipe to Professor Snape, who, despite his attempt to remain stoic, couldn't hide a glimmer of excitement in his eyes when he saw it.
Whatever it was, it sure got him worked up.
Meanwhile, Kathoom's initial enthusiasm for his "research" had started to wane.
"It's ruined!" Kathoom grumbled. "Turns out, even if you reverse-engineer the process of creating a Horcrux, it still requires a life."
Hearing this, Bruce's gaze turned intense. "Are you planning to kill someone?!"
That was a line he would not allow crossed.
"Like I need your permission to decide who I kill," Kathoom shot back, sneering before he sighed. "Actually, it doesn't have to be a person. It could be any life with strong enough energy."
Hearing that, Bruce finally relaxed.
The Wayne heir had a soft spot for preserving life, and he'd certainly prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.
With his interest in Horcruxes exhausted, Kathoom returned to his usual pastime of finding ways to annoy Bruce.
Before they knew it, Halloween had arrived.
The Great Hall was decked out in an array of festive decorations.
A thousand bats fluttered along the walls and ceiling, while another thousand swooped like dark clouds above the tables, making the candle flames inside the pumpkins flicker.
Bruce sat in the hall, preparing to indulge in his meal for the day.
He glanced around, noticing that Hermione was missing.
"Lost track of time studying again?"
He shook his head, exasperated. Lately, Hermione had been venting to him constantly about how unreliable the Gryffindor boys were.
Wandering the halls at all hours, always getting into trouble—she said it happened so often it was practically routine.
And the worst part? They were hopelessly dim-witted, unable to master even the simplest of spells.
"I'll pack some food for Hermione," he decided.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, Professor Quirrell suddenly burst into the Great Hall, his massive turban askew and terror etched into his face.
"Troll—in the dungeon—thought you ought to know."
And with that, he collapsed on the floor, fainting dead away.