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Chapter Text

Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. Hogwarts was one of the best schools that could exist, not counting of course some small and brief problems that existed at the moment, such as the lack of subjects that had been eliminated, but Hadrian (Harry for friends and family) had managed to convince the director to rely on his mother, and with some luck, next year, there would be more subjects to work on.

They should not misunderstand, he loved school, he was a bookworm, even if he didn't seem like it, but by Merlin, he missed his mother terribly, and he wanted to go home as soon as possible.

Harry had enjoyed the end of year party that night. Madam Pomfrey had helped him up, insisting on examining him once more, so when he arrived, the Great Hall was already full. It was decorated in the colors of Slytherin, green and silver, to celebrate the triumph of that house in winning the cup for seven years in a row. A large banner, which covered the wall behind the High Table, displayed the Slytherin snake.

As Harry entered there was a sudden murmur and everyone began talking at once. He slid into a chair between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that everyone was standing up to stare at him – not for the first time, Merlin, he was the heir to House Potter and Drake, so it was only natural that they would be staring at him a lot.

Luckily, Dumbledore arrived a few moments later. The chattering ceased.

“Another year is gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I’m going to bore you with some old man talk before you can start on the delicious treats. What a year we’ve had!” We hope your heads are a little bit fuller than when you arrived... Now you have all summer to get them nice and empty before next year starts... Well, I understand that the house cup has to be handed over and the points won are: fourth place is Gryffindor with three hundred and twelve points; third place is Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin has four hundred and seventy-two.

Well, it may have been his fault, Merlin, his mother had asked him not to be so risky and there he was, practically charging headlong into danger.

A storm of cheers and applause erupted from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy slamming his cup on the table. It was a disgusting sight, his mother would punish him if he did that at the house table, he had even seen his dear mother lash out at his uncle Conner for it.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

Everyone stood still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. Would he give away points like he gives away lemon drops? I wish.

"So," said Dumbledore, "I have some last-minute points to add. Let me see. Yes... First, for Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron turned so red he looked like a sunburned radish.

"... for being the best chess player Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Gryffindor cheers reached the enchanted ceiling, and the stars

seemed to shudder. Percy could be heard saying to the other prefects, "He's my brother, you know? My little brother! He managed to get through in McGonagall's giant chess game!"

At last there was silence again.

“Second… to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cold logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.”

Hermione buried her face in her arms. Harry was almost certain she was crying. The changes on the scoreboard flashed before them: Gryffindor was a hundred points ahead.

“Third… to Mr. Harry Potter…” Dumbledore continued. The room was deathly silent. “… for all his mettle and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points.”

The uproar was complete. Those who could add up, besides shouting and applauding, realized that Gryffindor had the same points as Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two. If Dumbledore had given Harry one more point… But that wouldn’t have been enough.

Dumbledore raised his arm. The room was calming down.

“There are many kinds of courage,” Dumbledore said, smiling. It takes great courage to stand against our enemies, but it takes the same courage to stand against our friends. So he awarded ten points to the heir, Neville Longbottom.

Someone standing outside the Great Hall would have thought there had been an explosion, so loud were the screams that came from the Gryffindor table.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up and cheered Neville, who, white with shock, disappeared beneath the people hugging him. He had never won more than one point for Gryffindor. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron and pointed at Malfoy, who could not have been more stunned and horrified if the Curse of Total Immobility had been put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore shouted over the round of applause, for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating Slytherin's defeat, "that there must be a change in the decor."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green decorations turned scarlet, the silver ones turned gold, and the great snake vanished to make way for the Gryffindor lion. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, a hideous, forced smile on his face. He caught Harry's eye and the boy knew immediately that Snape's feelings for him had not changed at all. He was not worried about that. It seemed that life was going to return to normal next year, or to the normality typical of Hogwarts.

"I think Professor Snape is going to want to lynch us," Neville said, his voice shaking.

"It would be cruel to do that. Very unfair!" Hermione exclaimed, sure of her words.

Harry laughs. He knows that Professor Snape wants to kill them, his gaze tells him so, but before he can say anything else, a scream is heard and a person falls from the ceiling of the Great Hall.

—Shit! — he exclaimed, causing more than one to be scandalized —That hurt me…

—Who are you? — asked Professor Dumbledore, having his wand ready.

—I apologize, Professor, I'm Jasmine, and I come from the future — he said with a cheerful voice, as if even behind the cloak, he had a smile on his person —I know, it sounds crazy, but I came because one of your students is practically in the crosshairs of the damn war and his mother needs to do everything possible to keep him safe.

Although many people's gazes were on Potter, the mention of a mother had baffled many, since they knew that the aforementioned was an orphan, but Harry had been worried about that.

—And what do you want? — Harry said, no one knew when he stood up, no one had noticed him

—You're very good at moving without being seen — Jasmine smiled, looking at the boy

— Mom taught me, so tell me, what do you want from me and my mother? — he asked, frowning, so what if they saw him? Merlin, he had to take care of his mother!

— You're very brave boy, what I came for is to help you and this book is the key — he assured, then whistled — Rimo! How great

Harry looked at the book and tensed up when he saw his last name on it, Potter-Drake.

— Give me that, give it to me! I won't let anyone know about my mother — Harry said loudly

— Hadrian — the director called, knowing that the boy was protective of his mother — Please, if there's something we can help you with in what's coming, let me help you

Harry feels like crying, why? Why did they have to involve his mother? Why?!

“If he reads that book, I want him to swear to me by his magic that nothing will happen to my mother,” Harry said in a harsh voice.

—You have my word, my son— the headmaster nodded.

What was all that mystery about? No one knew, even Professor Snape had his doubts. As far as he knew, Lily was dead, but if so, then who was looking after Potter? No one would know.

—Fine— he sighed, looking defeated. —But if they say or do anything against my mother and uncles, I will kill them!

Dumbledore just smiled, while the others didn't know whether or not to take the threat seriously.

—You have my word, Harry— the headmaster nodded, then looked at where Jasmine was. —Will it just be us?

—I'm afraid not— the kind girl denies —I have to go find some people, but they can sleep tonight, tomorrow those who want to stay are welcome, those who don't can go back to their homes, but they will be enchanted so they don't say anything —she made four scrolls appear and gave them to the director —Those who want to leave, can sign the scrolls, those who don't, must send a letter to their parents, so they don't worry, I understand that they can take more courses, right? They can use that as an excuse

—Thank you dear— the director nodded

—I'll come back tomorrow, if everything goes as I hope— she smiles, then looks at Harry —You have my word that nothing bad will happen to your mother

Harry nods, he knows that his friends won't want to leave, but he didn't know, he wasn't very sure that it was the best idea, but if he wanted to end this, he had to be fast.

Jasmine, for her part, disappears, she has to make many trips, she hopes that Mar'i and Me'j have achieved the objective of the spell, because honestly, she did not want to know what Helena would do to them if they did not achieve it, seriously, she was somewhat afraid of her aunt.

Chapter Text

Gotham, New Jersey.

Jasmine knows this will be hard, damn, she hated losing rock, paper, scissors! But still, she knows it's something she has to do.
She looks at the entrance to the bat-cave and nervously presses the code she knows, it corresponds to this time. The soft sound of the locks is present, and she calmly enters, her clothes had been made to be a tribute to the Red Robin suit, the only thing she didn't have were the crossed belts she had, and her boots had heels.

"They're going to kill me," she whispered quietly, and still entered the cave.

The cave was almost as she remembered it, rocky walls, the soft aroma of humidity and almost burned tire, the echo of the voices can be heard very well, she could identify Bruce Wayne (Batman! Batman! Her mind repeats to her) she can also hear the voice of Dick Grayson and the growls of Damian Wayne, the current Robin. She knows what's coming, but still, she tries to remain with her mind empty. Her red mask covers her eyes, and her peculiar white lock is hidden by a magenta tint, the Red Robin suit is still on her person and yet, she can feel her heartbeat.

When she enters the cave, what's left of the way, everyone's voices stop and they get into a combat stance.

—Who are you? — Batman asked, looking at her —And why do you have the Red Robin suit?

—Come on old man, it's clear that the replacement gave it to him — Red Hood mentioned, his guns still pointed at her

—It's clear that Drake is still a disgrace, Ha! Grayson did well to give the mantle to me — Robin replied

Jasmine, who was listening to everything, frowned and looked at the elders.

—You're not going to tell him anything? He just insulted one of your little birds," she said, looking at where Batman was.

"He's just a kid, Red Robin must know what…"

"Oh shut your mouth Grayson!" Jasmine exclaimed, as she threw something into Bruce's hand, who held it in the air, still distrusting her.

"I can't believe you keep your head up your ass to not see that Damian is no longer a child, and that every time he insults Tim, you expect Tim to apologize for something he didn't do."

The mention of their civilian identities further alerted the bat family.

“Who are you?” Batman repeated.

“I come from the future and I am your granddaughter,” she said, approaching a nearby armchair and letting herself fall down.

“And you expect us to believe that? Ha! Yeah, right,” Red Hood said, causing Jasmine to look at him. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

—Do you think I care?— Jasmine asked, frowning and looking at the man in front of her, very different from the man of her time.— Jason Peter Todd, only child, you were adopted by Grandpa Bruce when he found you stealing tires from the Batmobile, you became a robin and died at fifteen because of the Joker, you woke up six months later in your grave, there was no one there to receive you, Talia Al Ghul took you to the league of assassins and immersed you in the Lazarus Palace, you came out with a twisted mind and began to seek revenge, along the way you discovered that there was a new robin, and you began to hunt him down —she stopped for a moment and looked at Jason, who looked at her with a soft axis of disbelief—Do you want me to continue? Or do you want me to point out the others?

Jason didn't say anything, he looked at the girl in the Red Robin costume, who after challenging him with her gaze, looked towards where Dick and Damian were.

—Richard John Grayson, you call yourself "Dick" you were orphaned at a young age when your parents died during an act, Grandpa Bruce took you in but didn't adopt you until some time later, you became Robin when you were consumed by revenge towards the person who took your parents from you —his footsteps make a soft echo, it was clear that what he felt wanted to come out and if it didn't, his magic would take over so you wouldn't be exactly harmless. — At eighteen you went to the city of Blüdhaven and took up the mantle of Nightwing, during an incident regarding Grandpa Bruce's disappearance, you took up the mantle of Batman, but instead of listening to Tim, you decided that it was best to take away a mantle that he had significantly improved and you gave it to a child with anger and superiority issues...

—Damian needed it more!

—Damian needs someone to be his base, not some fucking enabler! — Jasmine exclaimed, making Dick look at her in disbelief, his blue eyes had widened more than expected, as if he didn't expect him to be the one being scolded. — Not only did you give a child who didn't deserve a mantle like Robin, but you also didn't help Tim when Damian wanted to kill him, trying to stab him or poisoning him, you did nothing! When he presented you with the evidence that Grandpa was alive, you called him crazy, you made everyone believe he was crazy, you threatened to send him to Arkham!

With that last thing, Bruce turned to look at Dick, he wanted a sign that it was a lie, that his eldest son wouldn't do that, but he only noticed how he looked away, even Jason was incredulous at the last thing he said. The smack that Damian had made Jasmine look at him.

—Drake was unstable, an absolute disgrace, father shouldn't even have bothered to take him in...

—Enough Damian!—Bruce suddenly exclaimed

Had he always spoken to Tim like that? How come he never saw it? How was it possible that Dick never stopped him? Oh god, he had failed his little girl.

—Look who's talking—Jasmine mocked, she knew that under his mask his eyes shone like every time he began to lose control of his emotions —Damian Wayne, born from rape, grandpa didn't even want you here, but he took you in, do you want to know why? Because Tim Drake, whom you hate so much, told him that he couldn't leave a child alone, that you deserved a family, the same person who prepared a special suit for you, the same one you have mocked, humiliated and tried to kill, the same one who wanted a little brother to take care of, the same one who had put in his will that if something happened to him, you would be left in charge of his fortune along with these two ungrateful pieces of shit.

Damian swallowed his words, what she had said had made him stagger, but he didn't know how to respond, he didn't know those details, he didn't know anything about that. Jasmine for her part approached where her grandfather was, gods she could be angry with him for many things, but in those moments, she wanted her grandfather, the man who had held her, who had held her mother's hand when she was in labor.

—Sorry for losing my temper, grandpa— she said, while carefully hugging him—I had already been warned that they were all idiots, but I didn't believe it so much, and I got angry that they talked about mom like that, I...

—Okay, Jaz, tell me, what's going on with Timmy? How is she? — Bruce asked, as Alfred moved closer to where they were. — Did something happen?

—You don't know where mom is? — Jasmine asked.

—No, she left a week after I got back from the time stream, she sends emails sometimes, but nothing more — Bruce said.

Before Jasmine could speak, Dick was the first to come out of her thoughts.

—Her? What are you talking about? Tim is a boy — the acrobat said.

—Boy? Ha! Mom was never a boy, she was always a girl, Timothy Jackson Drake never existed, at least not physically — Jasmine said.

—Bruce, what the fuck does this mean? — Jason asked processing things. —There was never a Timothy Drake, what the fuck does that mean, man!

Bruce looked at his children and his granddaughter (his granddaughter damn it) and walked over to his computer, typing in a code that none of them knew existed except Alfred and Jasmine, soon, in front of them, a folder appeared.

«Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne aka Red Robin»
«Timothea Jacqueline Drake-Wayne aka Red Robin»

A history of Tim could be seen, age, gender (false and true), level of education, status, medical history, grades, everything they could collect from Tim. There were three photos, but the one that caught her attention was that of a five-year-old girl, wearing a pink dress, white socks, pink shoes with bows, her hair in two pigtails, holding a Batman doll in her small hands, smiling and showing that she was missing a tooth. Below it she could read "Five years old." The two that followed were of the Tim from her memories, with cropped hair, dressed like Robin and in a civilian manner, there was no trace that she had been a girl.

—She was always a girl— Jason said, looking at the picture of the younger one.

—That would explain why she was so weak— Damian said.

—I see you're still an idiot— Jasmine pointed out, frowning.

—Bruce, why didn't you ever tell us?— Dick asked, stunned at the fact that he didn't have a younger brother, but a little sister.

—I didn't know, when Tim came to me, he was wearing loose clothes, big sweaters, jeans and tennis shoes, his hair was short back then, when I started training him, there was an accident…— Jasmine looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if telling him to tell the truth, so he sighed.— We had lost you Jason, I was drunk and hurt, so I took out my frustration on criminals and during Tim's training, in one of them, I hit her so hard that she fell and hit her head, that's when I realized the mistake I was making, and when I took her to the infirmary, I noticed the bandage she put on her chest so she wouldn't notice them...

—When did that happen? — Dick asked stunned — I don't remember any of Tim's training, that serious

—You rarely came Dick, Tim was mostly here — he answered, looking at the photo of the five-year-old girl — When I confronted her, she told me that Jason was her favorite, he was the brightest robin she had ever met, that she did it so that her legacy wouldn't be lost, so I continued training her, but I became softer with her…

Jason, who was listening to that, felt like he could choke on his own saliva. Tim had taken his mantle so that the legacy wouldn't die, he was her favorite, he couldn't believe it.

“I sent Tim to Titans Tower, not because Red Hood was hunting her, but because she was going through her first menstrual cycle and Alfred recommended that she stay somewhere quiet and comfortable for her,” Bruce said, remembering how his daughter had snuggled up to him when her first period came, telling him she wanted something warm and wearing one of his turtleneck sweaters. “Imagine my surprise when I found her sister, my daughter, lying on the ground, with broken ribs, a bullet in her leg, beaten and bruised, repeating that he was alive, that he hated her, and then crying about the pain she felt in her belly, a place you had no qualms about hitting several times.”

Jason stumbled back, his mind traveling back to that day. The way Tim looked pale, fragile, trembling, he had thought it was because of fear, but it wasn't like that, Tim, his Tim was going through his first menstrual cycle and he had no qualms, he had hit the girl (the now revealed girl) he had left her almost dead. He felt disgusted by her person, he had sworn never to touch a child, and above all, never to move a hair on a girl, a lady, and he had failed.

—She was a girl, a girl starting her first cycle— Jason said, his hands shaking, the gun making a soft sound from the shaking of his hands —And I hurt her, I…

—Shut up Todd— Damian said, although he was upset, he couldn't believe it, Drake had been a girl when she was attacked, her mother had always told her that menstrual cycles were important for women, now he didn't know what to think

—Why didn't you ever tell us anything?— Dick asked stunned

—Mom didn't want, if I had to guess, Grandpa Jack didn't want anyone to know she was a girl, not when she was the sole heiress to the Drake fortune, imagine what many would have done to get to her— Jasmine said —In a world where money moves things, the only Drake heiress has houses, money and a company in her name, what do you think would have happened?

—Rape, they would have raped her— Damian said —All to get the Drake family's money at their disposal

Dick's heart fell. Now that he was aware that he had a sister, a fear gripped him. What Jasmine said was true, as was Damian's, if Tim was a girl (and she was) she could be handed over to the highest bidder, any bastard could get his hands on her, could snatch away his sister's innocence. A sob escaped his lips, he wanted to cry.

"Little teacher Jasmine, tell me, what brought you here?" asked Alfred.

—My older brother— he answered quickly, drawing everyone's attention —Right now, there's a psychopath chasing my older brother, although in our time they managed to stop him, there were many casualties, my brother was never the same, and mother, she began to be consumed by the black magic she absorbed so that nothing bad would happen to my brother and she died when she was six, I was left in your care, and friends that mom made, especially in the care of Uncle Conner and Uncle Bart

Bruce sat for a moment. His daughter was going to die, he had a grandson right now and his daughter was going to die to keep him safe. He looked at the girl, he thought that Timmy would be alive, that he was going to raise her, but it was clear that his granddaughter had taken up the mantle to keep her mother's memory alive.

Alfred was no better. He had treated Miss Barbara, but Miss Timmy was his first legal granddaughter, and now he knew he had a great-grandson he didn't know about and an adult great-granddaughter in front of him, and he had been notified that the little girl he helped get the things she needed was going to die.

—Mom wrote in her notes that you're paranoid— Jasmine pointed calmly to where Bruce was —In the memory I sent you, there's my information and that of my brothers, yes, before you ask, before she died, Mom had two more children, my brother Cassius and my sister Brenda

Bruce nods and enters the memory. Jasmine types the code and soon, in front of them, there's an image that makes everyone's pulse (even Damian's) jump. In front of them is a beautiful woman, with long black hair and blue eyes, pale skin, she was wearing a beautiful summer dress and smiling at the camera, next to her was a boy, with disheveled black hair, greenish eyes and a bright smile, he was wearing light and comfortable clothes, above his nose there is a small pink band-aid with a star and his eyes, round and striking, are hidden by round glasses.

—Grandpa, he introduced you to his oldest grandson, Hadrian— he said looking fondly at the picture of his older brother

Bruce feels his eyes fill with tears, there was his little girl, his baby holding his own baby. The next pictures included Conner Kent and Bart Allen, the same child, his grandson was hugging the two mentioned, there was also a picture of Cass and Timmy.

—Cass knows!— Dick exclaimed, looking at his now two sisters

—Of course, Aunt Cass is Hadrian's godmother— Jasmine nodded calmly

—How unfair!

—Silence Grayson

—Shut up, Todd

Before Bruce could continue reviewing the images, he was taken out of the memory, and Jasmine whimpered.

—Damn it! Helena took her time to make it blocked until they joined me— Jasmine said, shaking her head in resignation

—Helena?— Alfred asked

—Yes, Aunt Helena! She's too overprotective of us," Jasmine assured, then looked at her watch. "You have the night free, I need to go find two more people so I can move them to Mom and Hadrian's location, in the meantime, take what you need, clothes and some weapons to defend yourselves, if you don't want to come, stay but don't wait for Grandpa Bruce or Tato Alfie to tell you something."

"I'm staying," Damian said.

"Okay, grandpa, the suit that Mom made for Damian, where is it? I'll take it to my brother, he could get better use of it," Jasmine said.

"It's stored, let us look for it and we'll take it with us," Bruce said calmly.

Turning around, Jasmine left the cave, she needed to go get two more people, she hoped that the surprise guests already knew they were going there, meanwhile, Damian frowned, Give up his suit? Ha! That wasn't going to happen, meanwhile, Dick went up to pack a small suitcase, just like Jason, they needed to see Tim, they needed to know that she was okay.

Gotham, near Crime Alley.

Thomas and Martha Wayne were ghosts who had clung to those damp, dirty walls when they died years ago. They had watched their children grow up and bring flowers to that alley and soon after they saw him wearing the Batman mantle. To say they were scared was an understatement, especially Martha, but they were also upset.

They were never in favor of Bruce fathering an heir, yes, he wanted grandchildren, but even though they didn't get them as they expected, they were happy. They watched from the shadows at each of them, but they had a greater weakness for the bird that disguised itself as a male, so when that same bird appeared, they knew something was up.

—Grandma? Grandpa? — Jasmine asked nervously —I'm Jaz, I'm Red Robin's daughter

The walls vibrate and Jasmine feels like she could scream with excitement.

—I'll get them out of the walls, but I need you to listen to me very carefully— she took a breath—Mom is in danger, as is my brother and while I know you can't do anything, I also know that Grandpa was a great doctor, and I need someone to check on Mom, please, I'll give you a deadline of three hundred and thirty-six hours, two weeks to be precise, so please, I want you to let me do this

Jasmine, who was sensitive to magic, smiled as she felt the warmth of the walls and began the process. The magic that Hadrian had provided her was pleasant to the touch, the magic of death was like a breath of newness, of the warmth that many ignored. From the walls, two shadows came out, one larger than the other, they had black hair and wore fine, elegant clothes, yes, it was them, Thomas and Martha Wayne. Jasmine smiled, but still staggered, so Thomas, who had come out of his shock, rushed to help his great-granddaughter.

“Are you okay, honey?” Martha asked the little girl who was already curled up in her husband’s arms.

“Yes, grandma, I’m fine,” she smiled.

Even with the Red Robin costume, Jasmine was still what most of us wanted, with her small figure and her features almost identical to her mother's, Jasmine could become what many wanted to protect.

—So, are you the daughter of the little bird in disguise? — Martha asked, while caressing the girl's cheek —I must say that I am so happy to know that Brucie has a family, but I am very angry with my stupid son

—Oh dear — Thomas smiled, looking lovingly at his wife, and helped his great-granddaughter to stand —Can you walk, dear?

—Yes grandpa, thank you — she smiled, then extended her hand —Come on, I'll take you to the mansion, I think it will be exciting for Grandpa Bruce to see you, although I think you want to scold him, don't you?

—Scolding is an understatement — Martha assured, while taking her little girl's hand —Let's go home, honey

Thomas nodded and Jasmine showed them off, she just hoped that nothing bad would happen.

Well, certainly, Potter's luck somehow influenced her. When she appeared in the gardens of Wayne Manor, she didn't expect to meet Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon and Commissioner Gordon, and she meant it very seriously, she didn't expect it!

"Hello?" she said nervously looking at those present

"Who are you?" asked Barbara

"I need a raise," whispered Jim Gordon suddenly

"And you certainly deserve it," said Jasmine, looking at the man who looked at her curiously. "Nice to meet you, Jasmine Drake, long story, I'll answer everything inside, I'll introduce you to my grandparents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, I'll explain that inside too, so let's go

Nobody said anything, it was daytime, yes, well more like an early evening, it was eight o'clock at night, in Scotland, where her brother was, it would be one in the morning, therefore they would already be asleep, the same for her mother, so it was better to enter the mansion.

To say that his grandfather Bruce and his uncle Alfie weren't close to fainting would be a lie. Seeing Thomas and Martha again had made Bruce cry, neither of them understood, they were supposed to be dead, they were dead! So how come they were walking around them?

—How?

—It was me, Grandpa— said Jasmine, who had taken off her red robin mask, revealing her free blue-green eyes.— You see, Hadrian is a magic bearer, and when Mom died, Death appeared, telling him that Mom's sacrifice had opened a bridge between her magic and us, that's how I was able to bring them, but for a limited time, two weeks to be precise.

—So you're a metahuman— said Jason.

—No, wizards and witches are like a subgenre, just like you bats are hidden, magical societies are hidden, what's more, they'll probably arrest me for telling them anything else— said Jasmine calmly.

—Arrest you?— Dick asked stunned.
—Yes, arrest, it's supposed to be because of the statute of secrecy, but since I'm not born yet, I'm nonexistent to them— Jasmine smiled calmly, then looked at Alfred. —Tato Alfie, can I use the bathroom? I smell like goat and it's not nice

—Of course, Teacher Jasmine, you can have Teacher Tim's bedroom— said the oldest

—Thank you!

While Jasmine disappears into the hallway, Alfred goes to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner for everyone, the others watch as a very annoyed Martha Wayne begins to pull her adult son's ears.

—What were you thinking Bruce! — Martha exclaimed, causing many to shrink in their seats, even Jim Gordon was intimidated by Martha herself. — Wearing black clothes, fighting crime and carrying my baby grandchildren around in flashy clothes with you! You will be grounded!

Yes, none of those present could shake the image of the great Batman being intimidated by the small, elegant figure that was his own mother, the grandmother of many of them, who were embarrassed by the words about being her baby grandchildren to her, while Thomas looked at his grandchildren, wanting to give them a routine checkup, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to without alerting his grandchildren.

—...And let's not forget my granddaughter, my granddaughter! — he exclaimed, turning to look at the other three boys —Your sister loves you, two of you in a brotherly way and the other in a romantic way, but it's clear that you're both idiots, you came out just like your father

—Mom! — Bruce said, then frowned —What do you mean brotherly and romantically? Timmy can't fall in love with any of them! One is a womanizer, the other has anger issues and the last one is trying to stab half the world!

—Excuse me!

—Retract it, old man!

—tt, unheard of

—Who is Timmy in love with? — Steph suddenly asked, drawing everyone's attention

—Oh dear, I won't say anything else— Martha assured, but her gaze momentarily fell on Jason, making Jim, Barbara and Damian notice, the latter frowned, there was a discomfort in his chest when he noticed that, he didn't know why, but he didn't like that

—But, she's still little... she...

—She has a son, Bruce— Thomas said, looking at his son —Timmy has a child, just like you have many, she already has one

Bruce felt dejected. It was true, Timmy had a son, and although he was doubtful about who could have his daughter's heart (gods he hoped it wasn't Jason, because he wouldn't know what to do with that fact) so when Jasmine made an appearance, he looked at her, she was almost identical to Timmy, but her hair instead of being straight like Timmy's, was wavy, her eyes were blue-green, but what caught his attention was the red lock that fell from her right side. —I'm back! — she said, wearing one of Tim's sweaters, a big, long, black one with a red Superman logo on it, she was wearing shorts and pink tennis shoes. —I didn't know that mom still kept the pictures she took of you when you were still Robins.

—What? — Dick asked.

—Yes, mom has pictures of you in your Robin outfits, she even has one of Aunt Babs in her outfit— she pointed out calmly. —And there's one of Grandpa Jim next to Grandpa Bruce and who I suspect was you, Dick.

Barbara smiled at being called "aunt" and Jim smiled in a more subtle way too. Alfred called them to the dining room, where a hearty dinner was waiting for them. Jasmine explained the plan to them, they would go to the school where Hadrian was, there they would read a book that would detail a little more of what was happening. While that was crazy, Steph, Duke, Barbara, and Jima had assured them that they could take care of the city, Jasmine had even pointed out that they could call Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, as well as Selina Kyle, since all three were renegades, they would be fine.

Bruce had been hesitant to leave the city, but if it was Timmy who needed his help, well, his baby had already done a lot to get him out of the timestream, she had been running the company, she had been leading their search, finding methods for the renegades, and by the way, she was wearing the mantle of Red Robin. Yes, definitely, his daughter needed his help.

—When would we leave? — Bruce asked

—Father, you can't just leave like that, it's absurd, Drake can take care of the matter alone — Damian said suddenly, earning a gentle tug of the ears from Martha

—Listen young man, you may be my son's son, my grandson, but, and listen to me carefully, I won't let you talk about your sister like that, your Timmy needs our help, so it will be given to him — Thomas assured, speaking before his granddaughter did —If you don't want to come, go ahead, but don't expect to be kept up to date, nor wait for information

Well, Damian didn't know what to think at that moment, he was mainly upset because without Drake being there, he had won the affection of his grandparents, when it should have been his.

"We'll leave at seven in the morning, Grandpa. I'll give you potions so you don't get tired and, by the way, a magic bracelet so you can see Hogwarts," Jasmine assured, while tasting the coffee Alfred had given her. "What delicious coffee."

Steph and Dick had to hold back their laughter. Yes, she was definitely Tim's daughter.

Chapter Text

When the clock struck exactly seven in the morning, the Wayne mansion was suffering from various noises, Martha Wayne's orders could be heard clear and precise, when suddenly, Jasmine appeared. The girl (the mini copy of Tim, many remembered) was dressed in comfortable clothes, but on her shoulders, she wore a cape and in one of her hands, was a domino mask.

The previous night had been complicated. Damian's actions to prove that he was the perfect heir had caused him to be reprimanded by Martha, and not to mention the disappointed look that Thomas Wayne had expressed with great emphasis. No one knew what to say, Martha Wayne was someone who had wanted a big family, but she was not going to allow the attitude of her youngest grandson, not when her granddaughter had never given her a grimace, that even, her granddaughter had wanted to train him, but it seemed that the senses of superiority that were over Damian, were worse.
Each member of the Wayne family had their own things to think about.

Bruce was happy, elated, scared and nervous. He was happy to have his family in the mansion, to see them all together, regardless of whether they were his biological or adopted children, having his parents and Alfred himself, but he was also scared and nervous about the issue of his little Timmy. Damian's actions along with his poisonous words had made Bruce's heartbeat jump with every word, was this the relationship between his youngest son and his little princess? He couldn't believe it. He knew that Timmy was not very expressive, just like him, and it was mostly because of the education she was given, but he also knew that she was a very adorable girl, he had seen her sew and knit with Alfred, he had seen her share her food with other people, she had been very patient with him when it came to Jason, she had even made cookies for Riddler; when he confessed that nobody remembered his birthday, he had seen her dry Harley Quinn's tears! His Timmy wasn't bad, he was just never given the chance to show himself and Damian, oh by all the gods, Damian was complicated. His son grew up as the sole heir to the league of assassins, but when he came to him, Timmy wore the mantle of Robin, she was praised by the people, even the renegades and rebels smiled at her, in Arkham Asylum she was like a dose of joy to all of them, so perhaps, Damian had felt threatened, but he never asked Damian to take on Robin, he waited for his son to learn a little more about how they worked, but then he got lost in the flow of time and when he came back, his daughter wore another mantle, Damian strutted around in the Robin suit and Dick assured him that it had all been Timmy's own decision. He had hoped that his son would understand that he didn't have to be so aggressive, but it seemed that wasn't the case, Talia had made a perfect soldier, when he wanted a vigilante who was more human than perfect.

Richard on the other hand was thinking about the things that had been happening. He hadn't been able to sleep all night, Jasmine's words had made him reevaluate the situation and accept that his actions towards Tim weren't the best, the way he had treated him, how he made him spend time with Damian when it was clear that the younger didn't want to, he had even ignored his insults with the excuse that he was still a child and it was his only objection all those years, but now, now it was worse. Soon the memory of Tim's devastated look came to him, him as he had seen him, even her words about putting him in Arkham. His body trembles, and he tries to listen to his grandmother Martha's words about what she is telling the others. Look where Jasmine is, his niece... Was she his niece? Of course she was! Although she still didn't call him uncle, that bothers him a little. He looks at her, she looks a lot like Tim, she has few differences and he wonders if she will have a resemblance to his future father. Father, Oh god! His Tim was married, his little sister was someone's wife, and fear gripped him, were they already so far away that his sister never told him she had a husband and son? Until now, he was a stranger, and that hurt him, it hurt his heart to think that maybe, Tim would never have told them about his nephew, he wouldn't if it weren't for the fact that Jasmine had come asking for help. He sighs, his suitcase was ready, a small suitcase with enough clothes and his Nightwing suit. He needed and wanted to see his sister again, he needed to talk to her, to clarify pending matters, he needed to clarify the points.

Jason was no better off than Dick. The truths about Timothy made him shudder. It wasn't Timothy, it was Timothea, a little girl who had seen him as her hero, something he didn't believe until one night, when he got up in the early morning and went down to the garden, there he saw her.

Flash Back.

He was walking towards the garden when he saw Jasmine, Tim's daughter… Oh god, it was Tim's daughter. He studied her, she was sitting under a tree where he had seen Tim many times, her eyes were closed, it was as if she was sleeping, her chest slowly rising and falling, and he studied her. He could see Tim's similar features in her, but she also had some differences, and that produced an uneasiness in his chest. He looked at her, her red bangs were almost similar to his own, but they weren't white like his were, he could also see a silver chain hanging on her pale neck and for a second, he wondered if Tim also had a neck as thin as his daughter's.

—Looking at people like that is too creepy— Jasmine said, opening her eyes and revealing that blue and green combination in them

—You shouldn't sleep out here, I doubt Mrs. Wayne will let you— Jason said

—Is that what you call Grandma? For Merlin's sake! Don't let her find out— she says calmly and then gives him a soft smile—She'll kick you if she finds out

Jason snorts. He can imagine Martha Wayne kicking his ass, and for a moment, he feels like he might shiver, the last thing he wants is to make that woman angry.

—Can't you sleep?

But Jason doesn't answer, instead he says something else.

—You're not going to treat me like an uncle?

Jasmine frowns.

—It would be hard to see you as an uncle, when you don't play that role—she assured, looking away

—True, the replacement and I aren't very close—she said quietly

Jasmine has to avoid the temptation to pull Jason's ears, or at best, hit him with something.

—You know, every time I see you, I remember the fact that Mom kept pictures of you— smiling and from the pocket of the pants he was wearing, he took out an old photo—Don't you remember it? Mom had asked you for a picture and you got it for her. You were her favorite, the Robin that shined the most.
Jason takes the photo and his head seems to be about to explode. Inside the photo, he can see himself smiling and next to him, there is a boy, it was clear that it was Tim, he had a bright smile and was missing a tooth, but his blue eyes shone beautifully.

—I didn't know that— he denies, trying to give Jasmine the photo back

—No, calm down, keep it— she said calmly

Jason feels like the words can't come out of his mouth, that his vocal cords can't express anything else, but he nods.

—You shouldn't be out, it's kind of cold and Gotham isn't the safest place…

—I know, but it has its charm, it's like being home— he sighs and looks at the tulips —Mom would be happy to know that Alfie kept her tulips as beautiful as she would do

Jason's eyes softened, the way Jasmine caressed the tulips, it was like watching Tim and he feels a lump form in his throat again.

—I guess I can go back to bed— she smiled and gave Jason a hug —You know, when you get the chance, hug mom, she's always wanted to hug you, but you always walked away and she was raised to call and not ask.

Jasmine's words resonate. Tim has always stayed in the shadows, and he never asked for anything more, instead, he just stayed quiet, waiting and… waiting.
He watches Jasmine leave, feeling a certain emptiness in him, and wants, wishes to go to where Timmy is at that moment, but instead; He looks at the photo again and feels his eyes fill with tears.

End of Flashback

He was Tim's favorite, Tim would have wanted a hug from him, and instead he was always quiet... quiet, and she felt bad. She was recapitulating the events of Titans Tower and knowing that he had taken out his anger on a girl, it was something that hadn't let her sleep, she looked at the photo and wondered when she could see her again, she wondered if she would want to see him, but at the same time she was afraid of getting an answer.

She looks at her luggage, she has skipped breakfast, even listening to Martha Wayne's voice (her grandmother) there is a buzzing in her ear, she needed to see Timmy, she needed to see her and apologize, even if she had to kneel in front of her, even if she had to make up to her sister and nephew for the years she was away, she had to see her.

Damian was not better. The scoldings from his grandparents were different from the ones he got, there was no blood involved, no corporal punishment, but it hurt him the way they defended Drake. Knowing she was a girl only gave him a push to his superiority, he believed she was weak, a link that had to be eradicated, but she was also the most loved, what had she done for his grandfather to love her? What had she done for her father to be willing to travel to go where she was? He was furious, for not accepting that he was really jealous. Tim Drake was the one who had achieved more than them, more than his own father could dream of, he was praised by the heroes and had high esteem and affection for the renegades, he was the one who saw the best in all of them and kept the family together, even when each and every one of them turned their backs on him. Tim had been Damian's first sister, who although he loved Cassandra, it was Drake who shook his hand and smiled shyly at him, but his brain and the poison that his mother took care of sowing in his thoughts, made him look like someone who saw him as inferior and he hated her.

He had tried to see the suit that was for him and the only thing he got was to be able to see a sword that was clearly not typical, but it was perfect, he had seen the sharp blade, waiting to be used and for a second he wonders where Drake got it from, but he refrains. He looks at where the thing that Drake will give birth to is, it had certain features similar to Drake's, but it also looked different, maybe it was the profiled nose or the high cheekbones, it has bangs that if it were white, it would be similar to Todd, but it is clearly not like that.

—Is everyone ready? — Gordon asked, from his place next to Richard

—Yes, Jasmine said that we weren't going to use that many clothes and there were still some of your clothes stored in the attic — commented his father, looking towards where his grandparents were

—Thanks honey, but where's Jay?

—Here grandma — said Todd, as he kissed the woman's cheek and dropped a backpack next to her — I already have my things ready

— Well, we have to wait for Jasmine to tell us what we're going to do…

The words of his grandfather Thomas Wayne are lost when Drake's daughter gets up from her seat, with a letter in her hand.

—We have to go, the last guests are already arriving at Hogwarts — she smiled, as she took a book out of one of her pockets, was that even possible? He doesn't know exactly.

— Perfect, I just have one concern, master Jasmine — said Alfred, as he took a small carry-on suitcase

— What happened so much?

A small smile appears on Alfred's face. He should feel bad for having that nice nickname when Thomas Wayne, his old friend was listening to that, but he couldn't help his heart from vibrating when he heard how his teacher Timmy's daughter called him tato. He clears his throat.

"If I leave, who will be in charge of cleaning the mansion? I don't want to put Miss Stephanie, or young Duke to do such tasks," Alfred said, although he wasn't going to be honest with the fact that he doubted they could keep the mansion standing.

"I've got it covered!" Jasmine assured happily. "Winny!"

A strange being appeared in front of them. It was small, it reached Jasmine's knees, it had pointy ears and huge brown eyes, it wore clothes or garments that they had never seen before.

"The little amita called Winny, How can Winny help you?" —Winny, we're going to take care of some business in England, so I need you to keep the mansion running properly and follow their orders— he said, pointing to those who were going to stay.

—Does the little lady want Winny to make the food?— the little being asked.

—I would really appreciate it— Jasmine nodded.

—I understand, amita, Winny will keep the mansion clean, tidy and running, she will also prepare the young people's meals and snacks— assured Winny, giving a small smile to the others, then disappearing

—What the hell was that?

—Jason!

—Sorry grandma... But I'm right!

—Winny is a house elf, in the magical world they are in charge of keeping homes clean, meals freshly prepared and they help in everything that is asked of them— assured Jasmine —Mom has two elves in her power, Winny who is an elf of the Potter house and Kreacher who is an elf of the Black house, there are also other elves, but they are from mom's extended family

—Are elves expensive?— Dick asked suddenly —I ask because you make them sound like they are slaves

—They are beings that need magic to live and no, Winny is a right as a lady of the Potter house, while Kreacher is an elf who came alone and did not want to leave— she assured calmly, it seemed that she liked to downplay it —Are we going?

Those who were going to look for Timmy stood up. Martha and Thomas looked at each other, they knew that someone was already there with their granddaughter, and that would be their sweet Cass, she would never leave her alone, but the one who took everyone by surprise was Damian, who also approached with a suitcase, the youngest would not say it, but he wanted to see what was so special about Drake's son and why she would keep him hidden.

—Well, each one hold my hand, arm or shoulder, and on the slope of three take a deep breath— she asked smiling —We are going to apparate, so you might feel dizzy or want to vomit, I also leave you this— she left a small stone on the table and smiled —You will not be able to come, but you will be able to hear some things…

No one said anything, when they were in the garden, in front of them all, Martha, who had been holding her great-granddaughter's hand, watched her husband place his hand on her forearm and then the others touch Jasmine's shoulder or hand. When her little girl counted three, Martha felt her world spinning, as if a tug on her navel had forced her to contain the urge to vomit, although she did not know if the others had been successful. —What was that!

— Dick shouted, his voice sounded muffled and his eyes looked watery, he looked like he wanted to vomit right then and there.

—Apparition, wizards and witches learn it at seventeen, but I already controlled it before— she assured calmly.

—And where the hell are we? — Jason asked, receiving a dirty look from Martha and Alfred. —Sorry.

—Scotland, to be precise, at Hogwarts— Jasmine assured calmly, then looked around and smiled at who arrived at the same time as them. —Lord and Lady Potter! Mr. and Mrs. Granger! Lord and Lady Weasley!

The names were strange, but the one that caught their attention was the Potter. Hadn't Jasmine said that Timmy was Lady Potter? So if so, who was the redhead? Some relative? Some relative of Timmy's husband? They didn't know for sure.

—Hello— said the red-haired woman, Damian thought he almost saw his mother, red hair and greenish eyes —Jasmine, right?

—That's right, I'm glad to know that you were able to arrive on time— she smiled, while taking the hand of the baby that the woman was holding —Hello little one

—My dear, why are we here?— asked a woman, with curly brown hair —Your letter was very brief and your brother didn't tell us much more

—I'm sorry, but you'll know everything when we enter Hogwarts— she pointed at the ruins in front of them

—I don't see anything— Damian denied

—Oh! They're muggles— said Arthur Weasley calmly

—Snots?

—Muggles— corrected Mr. Granger, then looked at the man in front of him —Bruce Wayne?

—Nice to meet you— smiled Bruce.

The Grangers had so many things to ask them, but soon, what was once ruins, was now a beautiful and enormous castle. Upon seeing it, the Wayne family and the Grangers were surprised, they could not believe what they saw.

—Welcome to Hogwarts— said James happily, while looking at the castle with nostalgia.

—Wow, it's very beautiful— said Jean Granger in a voice full of emotion. —Is this where my Mione studies?

—That's right— Mrs. Weasley nodded, as she held her daughter's hand

—Come on! We don't have all day and the sooner we get this started, the easier it will be to help— Jasmine exclaimed happily as she stepped forward —Come on!

They followed her, Bruce could refuse, Dick, Jason and Damian too, but they wouldn't, not when the answer they needed was within those walls, even Alfred wondered if his granddaughter was there, he was waiting for him, he didn't want to waste another minute, while Martha and Thomas talked to the others, with Arthur Weasley trying to keep his enthusiasm from overflowing. Oh, when was Jasmine going to have fun.

Chapter Text

When you ask Hadrian (Harry) Potter how his day had started, he'd tell you that well, Mione had managed to convince Percy to let her sleep with them, so he'd woken up with his best friend by his side, and with his Batman doll on the other side of his bed, he'd tell you that he was amused to see Neville trying to catch Trevor and Semus tripping over his own sock, he'd tell you that he watched with joy as Ron was playing with Bat Black and as Seamus looked fondly at the Superboy doll, but now, well, he certainly didn't know what to think.

The other people's questions weren't discreet, questions thrown out there for him to answer about the state of his mother, or how it was possible that he had a mother, but even now, Harry was jealous of her. Don't get him wrong, he was only five years old when his mother appeared, she looked like an angel, she was so beautiful that he thought he was seeing a hallucination or maybe it was his own imagination, but no, his mother was there to look after him, to take care of him and tell him how much she loved him, so yes, he was extremely jealous of his dear mother.

"Hey Potter, is your mother as stupid as you?" Malfoy suddenly asked, right in the hallway that led to the great hall. "She must be, someone to take care of you, she must be extremely stupid."

Oh no, Malfoy wasn't going to insult his mother. Annoyed, Harry frowned and looked at where the albino was.

"A lot of words for such a small head, Malfoy," Harry said, as he felt his eyes turn dark, the people around him felt a cold pass through their backs. Even Malfoy felt a fear rise up in him. — Or maybe little Malfoy has a script already ready, it wouldn't be strange, even clowns have a script, even the joker has one

The mention of one of the most dangerous criminals in the United States, made many muggle-borns feel like making fun of him, yes, they were somewhat afraid of the clown, they knew he couldn't get to where they were, but suddenly, it was funny to know that Malfoy resorts to a possible written and practiced script.

—Well, that has a lot to do with it— a Ravenclaw girl mocked, making many pay attention to her — I mean, Malfoy always brings up very... extreme topics, I must say that it was a very well-crafted script

Malfoy's imposing posture was now a joke. Harry's words had made the muggle-borns explain to the others what a script was, and what a clown was, the laughter did not hesitate to come. Embarrassed, Malfoy turned and walked off with Crabbe and Goyle, muttering where Professor Snape was when he was needed.

“Oh, Harry!” Ron exclaimed, looking at his best friend in surprise. “You know, when you said you had a side… What did you call it? Oh, yeah! A gala side, I thought that would be something different.”

Harry, who had been almost furious at Malfoy's audacity, blinked several times and the anger subsided.

"I'm sorry, sometimes Malfoy puts me in a bad mood," Harry said, as he felt his cheeks turn pink.

"Come on Potter, you stood up for yourself, that's a good thing," said someone from Hufflepuff. "Malfoy's been feeling grown up just because Snape never punishes him."

"Point Potter, it's surprising that you've finally made Malfoy shut up," congratulated Cassius Warrington, who was approaching with the members of the Slytherin team. "Even in the common room, Malfoy is almost an outcast, a tremendous pain in the ass."

"Oh my," said the raven blushing, then fidgeting nervously on his own person. "It's... It's Potter-Drake."

That made the attention return to them. Drake? That surname seemed familiar to Terence Higgs, but from where? He didn't know, meanwhile, the other people were confused, as far as they knew, Harry's mother was called Lily Evans, the Drake didn't fit, so perhaps, they would have the expected answer. On the other hand, the purebloods and half-bloods who had noticed the combination of surnames, nodded. When someone corrected them in the name they used for him, it was the signal that they had to take it into account, since it was a correct way of referring to the person himself.

"Good Potter-Drake," Daphne Greengrass nodded gracefully.

Harry smiles softly and nods, grateful for the detail.

The dining room was full, although the sheets to go home were on the notice boards in the common rooms, no one wanted to put their name, they were somehow eager to know what Hogwarts was like from the point of view of someone like Harry Potter-Drake.

The Wayne family's anxiety was rapidly increasing. First of all, yes, Hogwarts was impressive, it was a fucking castle, as Jason had said, it was also a nice sight for Damian, even if he himself wouldn't admit it, but above all, it was making them anxious.

"Mum, do you think we can be with my brothers?" Ginny ventured to ask.

"Of course dear, I don't see why not," Molly smiled happily.

"First wait until they're happy to see us," Bill said to his sister.

"I think they'll like the surprise, especially Ron, you're his favourite," Charlie mocked.

Martha, who was next to Thomas, smiled at the sight of the little girl. She was small and freckled, but she had a very sparkling air, like Jason when he was younger, she was adorable, but soon, her eyes traveled to the baby that Lily, the red-haired woman was holding.

"Dear," he called, making the woman look at him. "How much is she?" If I may ask

—Of course! He'll barely turn one, he's nine months old—the red-haired woman smiled happily

—He's so beautiful—Martha assured

Lily, who had noticed the older woman's gaze, smiled. Helena, the woman who had come to take her away from her time and home, had told them who they were going to meet and although, at first she had a panic attack, she also thanked the young Drake for taking care of her son, so if the woman was related to the lady, she could let her be near Harry without problem.

—Would you like to hold him?—she ventured, noticing how the lady hesitated, but gave her a smile —Please, I think he likes it, he rarely smiles when there are strangers around

Baby Harry shows the small and few teeth he has, and Martha, with her heart racing, holds him. He was so small, Bruce had been bigger.

Bruce, who was close to his children, noticed how his mother, father and Alfred looked at the baby. It was clear that it had been quite a while since they had a baby with them, and he, the only baby he could carry was John, so he didn't know how to do it.

"Hey B," called Dick, who was looking at the stone corridors where they were going. "Do you think Timmy could be here?"

"Could he?" He didn't know. He knew that Timmy wasn't very sociable, but could he be in the castle?"

"I don't know," he denied. "For now, we have to know if she could be okay."

Not far from them, Arthur was talking to the Grangers. Jean and Eliot answered Arthur's questions, but at the same time they watched the Waynes. It was a bit surprising to see one of the richest families among them, and it wasn't that it was bad, but public opinion in recent years was not kind to the youngest, who preferred to be referred to as "Master Wayne" and that had not been to the liking of many.

"Great, we're here!" Jasmine exclaimed, as she looked at the huge wooden door.

"Where are we?" Jason ventured to ask.

"Oh son, this is the entrance to the great dining room, where breakfast, lunch and dinner are served," Molly replied calmly, giving Jason a smile.

"Thank you ma'am," Todd nodded.

"Exactly!" Inside, there are the students and teachers, I ask that you let me speak first and then you can decide where to sit— Jasmine asked

—Sit down?— Dick asked

—Yes, Hogwarts has…— Lily paused for a moment, they were muggles, and even if the Grangers knew what they were talking about, they could also have doubts.— It has houses or fraternities as you want to see them, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, each house has a color, red, yellow, blue and green, in that order

—Thank you— Jean smiled calmly, understanding more of things.

—Good! Let's go in.

If the castle was big, the dining room was more than surprising, not only because it was huge, but because of the number of children inside it and the details. In front of their eyes, there were four huge tables, each one with the colors that had been pointed out, there were children, possibly between ten and eighteen, they didn't know, at the back, there was a long table with several adults, but the one who stood out was a man with a white beard and a purple robe with stars.

—Santa Claus? — Dick asked quietly, causing Jason to laugh.

—Apart from that embarrassing moment, hello professor! — Jasmine said, when everyone looked in their direction.

—Oh Jasmine— Albus smiled, as he stood up and approached where they were —I thought you weren't going to make it.

—Relax, it took us a while because I brought a few more people— she smiled, then stepped aside —I think you recognized two couples, right?

The teachers gasped in surprise, not only by the fact that there was a group next to the young woman, but by the couple that accompanied them.

—James? Lily? — Minerva asked, standing up.

—Hello Minnie! — James smiled, earning a slap on the back of the head from his wife —Ouch! Lily, that hurt me

“You deserved it,” said the redhead, ignoring the gaze of a certain person at the teachers' table. “I told you that I respect deaths.”

“Sorry.”

For their part, the Weasleys were surrounded by their children. Ron, who had been Bill's boy, clung to his older brother in one arm and began to talk to him about the things he had been learning. Meanwhile, the twins had clung to Charlie and Percy had picked up Ginny, telling her how much he had missed her.

“Mum! Dad!” Hermione had suddenly exclaimed, approaching her parents.

The meeting was somewhat awkward for some, but the tension was felt. Harry, who had stood up to greet the Weasleys and the Grangers, easily noticed how they looked at him and a part of him wanted to be invisible like his Aunt Cass.

—Harry— Albus called, looking at the little boy —I want to introduce you to some people

—I don't think I need to— he said, as he approached the young couple and looked at them —Mom? Dad?

—Oh, Harry

Lily hugged him. It was complicated for her, her son will grow up without her, but she knew about them, she knew them, so she thanks the sweet girl who took care of her son, James for his part waits for his turn to hug his son and when he does, he holds him carefully, he was as small and thin as Lily at that age, he had the most beautiful eyes he could ever meet and he was perfect.

—Oh dear— he said calmly —We have much to thank Miss Drake for

The mention of Timmy made the Waynes look at Harry and felt their hearts beat. Was it the boy? No, it couldn't be, Damian, who was watching him, just frowned, he had to be picked up like Drake, there was no other way.

—Harry, we want you to meet some people— Lily said, holding her son's hand—They are the Waynes, they are your mother's family

Harry looked at them. He recognized the descriptions of each one and his magic was studying them.

—Hello Harry, my name is Martha Wayne and this is Thomas, my husband— said the kind woman, pointing to herself and the man

Affection, love, affection, family, adoration.
Affection, caution, love, family, concern.

Her magic thus classified them and she smiled.

—Nice to meet you— she greeted nervously, then bowed—Heir Hadrian James Potter-Drake at your service

Her bow, practiced and rehearsed several times with her mother and uncles, bore fruit when she heard the soft gasps of surprise from many who had faithfully believed that she did not know the customary greetings, Ha! If they knew that his mother had done a lot of research on his heritage in order to help him, another reason to love her.

Thomas and Martha felt happy when they saw their great-grandson's behavior and smiled at him. While they praised his behavior (And James and Lily felt proud) the remaining Waynes were not better, Bruce looked at the child who was being surrounded by his parents, at first he had been surprised to see that the Potters called him son, but when he heard the last name "Drake" he knew that Timmy had adopted the child, it had to be that, and now, he didn't know how to feel, Hadrian was still his grandson, but a doubt was eating away at him, when did his daughter adopt him? The photos that were shown on the batcomputer were of a five-year-old boy and now, the boy had to be one. What? Nine or ten, he wasn't quite sure, but that meant that his daughter had the boy for five years.

While Bruce was lost in his thoughts, Dick was watching his nephew, the boy was adorable, he had rosy, softly rounded cheeks, he kept some of that baby fat, his eyes were green, but it wasn't a green like Damian's, no, it was a beautiful emerald color, and full of sparkles, his childish and cheerful countenance was very sweet, Oh god, he was very sweet! The boy was embarrassed by how Martha, his grandmother, pulled the little boy's cheeks, who became increasingly embarrassed by the attention, he also wanted to hug his nephew, but he didn't know if the boy knew them, he knew Cass, but had Timmy talked to him about them? He didn't know.

Jason for his part looked at the boy. He was small, too small for his liking, even the redheaded girl was a little taller than him! He looked more fragile and for a moment, he thought about seeing Tim when he started as Robin, he had seen pictures of him, because for a moment he thought he could be his son, but he dismissed the idea, would Tim start adopting orphans like Bruce did? He didn't doubt it, the boy looked a lot like the bat, he looks sideways at the others, Dick is about to jump to where the boy is and give him one of those hugs that can take the breath away of many, so he had to keep an eye on him before he could hurt the boy (Jason ignored how Harry sometimes looked at him with some curiosity).

Alfred, for his part, felt like he could cry. Hadrian was the name of his late son, he didn't know if it was a coincidence or his miss Timmy had given him that name, he wasn't quite sure, but he was very proud to see his miss's son being so polite, he was very cute, he certainly had all Alfred's affection.

Damian was the last one. He had certain problems with the fact that Drake had a son, he wanted to make fun of the boy, he was adopted, another orphan who had been taken in by the inferior being that was Drake himself, he had nothing special, the only thing that made him unique was the fact that he could do magic, just that, the boy had to be useless like Drake himself was, there was no other way, but what was bothering him was the way his father, Pennyworth and Richard probably wanted to give the boy affection and he couldn't allow that. He would have to prove that the brat was as useless as Drake was, just a waste of space and life that wasn't worth it.

The introductions were quick, many were surprised to see the Potters, some young ladies looked lovingly at where baby Harry was, who had been laid in a cradle that Lady Potter had made with such delicacy and skill. The muggle-borns were surprised, to the bewilderment of purebloods and some half-bloods, when they saw the Wayne family and whispered who they were, a rich family, with a prosperous future and great ambitions, but the third son and the first daughter were missing, who were not in sight.

For their part, the guests took their red and gold dishes at the table, including the Waynes, who were pulled by Thomas and Martha, staying close to the three children who were excited, even the Potters.

—Well, finishing these introductions, I must tell you something— Jasmine said —Even if you try to change the past, you won't be able to, your destiny is already set in stone, you can leave instructions, but nothing more

—I appreciate it, Miss— James nodded, while he thought about what to do to keep his son safe, but also, to keep the young lady who had taken care of him. Would an adoption be possible?
Alfred, who had heard that, looked at the boy. Had he said adopt? Adopt his granddaughter? Oh god, his master and the young masters wouldn't listen to that, he wouldn't know what they would be capable of doing.

—Well, let's start this, just a few warnings— said Jasmine, as she stood next to Albus —First of all, the actions that are carried out in the reading will not have a penalty, second, Gryffindor lost points in an absurd way, so it has a chance to recover them Professor McGonagall… —the aforementioned nodded, already suspecting the points lost just like that— third, it is not allowed to protect whoever starts the problem, the person will have to face their stupidities

Many were surprised by that, there was something there, the girl from the future clearly knew something about what was going on around them.

—And lastly, people will be respected equally— finished Jasmine, looking at everyone and stopping for a moment with Damian Wayne and Draco Malfoy —Now, let's begin, Mrs. Weasley, do you start?

Molly, who had taken a place next to her husband at the Gryffindor table, nodded and took the black-covered book, which turned a beautiful red and gold.

—Hadrien Potter-Drake and the Philosopher's Stone—she read calmly, making many excited to begin reading.

What mysteries awaited her from now on? How exciting!

Chapter Text

Molly Weasley took the book. It was pretty. The designs on the cover were so beautiful. There was even a robin! It was so beautiful it seemed like some kind of dream.

"Okay, let's begin," she smiled and opened the book, marveling at the fine handwriting. "Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived."

Many were preparing to begin that adventure.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, who lived at 4 Privet Drive, were proud to say they were very normal, fortunately.

"Oh no!" Lily exclaimed, recognizing her older sister's surname. James, for his part, took his wife's hand, wanting to give her support.

"What's normal?" asked a Hufflepuff boy.

"Non-magical people, dear," Lily added calmly.

They were the last people you'd expect to find involved with anything strange or mysterious, because they weren't up for such nonsense.

"Did she call us fools?" Adrian Pucey asked his best friends in a low voice.

"I think so," Cassius Warrington whispered.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a company called Grunnings, which manufactured drills. He was a large, round man, with almost no neck, although he did have a huge mustache.

"Well, the perfect type of Mum!" Harry mocked, causing some people to look at him in surprise at his joking outburst, marveling James and the twins but tormenting Minerva.

Bruce, for his part, felt his face might fill with horror. That wasn't his perfect type of daughter, thank you!

Mrs. Dursley was thin, blonde, and had a neck almost twice as long as usual, which came in very handy, as she spent most of her time craning it over the garden fence to spy on her neighbors. The Dursleys had a young son named Dudley, and they thought there was no better boy than him.

"Darling, your sister has become more..." James said, struggling to find the right words.

"I know, I'm surprised she hasn't changed much," Lily denied.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that it would be found out: they wouldn't have been able to bear for the Potters to get out.

Many frowned upon hearing this.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't seen each other for years; so much so that Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her husband, a complete idiot, were the most opposite of the Dursleys imaginable.

Severus Snape, who had been silent, smirked at this.

"Hey!" "I'm a Chief Auror, I have several investments, and I own a manor and three houses. I'm not useless!" James assured, crossing his arms.

Many looked at Lord Potter in admiration, something that angered Snape.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters appeared on the sidewalk. They knew the Potters also had a young son, but they had never seen him. The boy was another good reason to keep the Potters away: they didn't want Dudley hanging around with a child like that.

"And I don't want my Harry with them!" Lily assured them.

"Calm down, Mum. Mum showed up at the right time," Harry assured them.

Our story begins when Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on a Tuesday to a sky covered in gray clouds that threatened a storm. But nothing in that overcast sky suggested the strange and mysterious events that would soon take place throughout the region. Mr. Dursley hummed to himself as he put on his dullest tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley chattered happily as she settled the noisy Dudley into his high chair.

None of them saw the large brown owl flying past the window.

At eight-thirty, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, kissed Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye, but he couldn't, as the boy was throwing a tantrum and throwing cereal against the walls.

Many shuddered at that.

"God! If one of my grandchildren behaved like that, I'd have grounded them already," Martha Wayne said, making her grandchildren shudder, thankful the woman didn't know them, no matter how cruel that sounded.

"Mum would have lynched me already," Harry assured. "She'd never let me throw a tantrum!"

"We'd have been grounded for life," Ron assured, earning a nod from his parents.

Many agreed; their mothers and fathers would give them a good scolding.

"You rascal," Mr. Dursley muttered as he left the house. He got into his car and drove away from number 4.

As he reached the corner, he noticed his first hint that something strange was happening: a cat was looking at a map of the city. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen, but then he turned his head to look again. There was indeed a tabby cat on the corner of Privet Drive, but he didn't see a map. What had he been thinking? It must have been an optical illusion. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.

Many people were curious. A cat reading a map? Minerva, for her part, could feel Albus's amused gaze, but also James Potter's.

As Mr. Dursley turned the corner and drove up the street, he watched the cat in his rearview mirror: at that moment, the feline was reading the sign that said "Privet Drive" (it couldn't be; cats couldn't read signs or maps). Mr. Dursley shook his head, ignoring the cat's thoughts. As he drove into town, all he could think about was the drill orders he hoped to secure that day.

But outside the city, something happened that put drills out of his mind. As he waited in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help but notice a large number of strangely dressed people. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't stand people wearing ridiculous clothes. Ah, the outfits young people wore!

"I don't want to know what he'll say about Uncle Conner," Harry denied.

"Why?" asked Seamus.

"Oh, it's that Uncle Conner likes leather jackets with spikes," Harry assured.

"Is he Goth?"

"No, he just likes drama."

Some people laughed. Dick, for his part, tried not to frown; this Uncle Conner was somehow offensive to him.

He supposed it must be a new trend. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his gaze fell on some strangers standing near him. They were whispering to each other excitedly. Mr. Dursley was furious when he realized that two of the strangers weren't young. Why, one was even older than him, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! What nerve!

"Our cloaks are great," someone else assured him.

But then it occurred to him that it must be some sort of advertising gibberish; these people were obviously collecting for something. Yes, that had to be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived at the Grunnings parking lot, thinking about the drills again.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he would have had a hard time concentrating on the drills that morning. He didn't see the owls flying by in broad daylight, although people on the street could see them and point at them with their mouths open as the birds paraded by one after another. Most of these people hadn't seen an owl, even at night. Nevertheless, Mr. Dursley had a perfectly normal morning, without owls. He shouted to five people. He made important phone calls, and then shouted again.

"Isn't it rude to yell at people?" Ginny asked, watching her mother.

"It is, dear," Molly assured him calmly.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he decided to stretch his legs and head across the street to the bakery.

He had forgotten about the people in cloaks until he passed a group standing next to the bakery. As he passed, he glared at them. He didn't know why, but they made him nervous. That group was also whispering agitatedly and didn't even have a piggy bank with them. As he returned with a giant doughnut in a paper bag, he caught a few words of their conversation.

"Oh, I want a doughnut!" exclaimed a Hufflepuff boy.

"I'd like to, but I've already used up my supply of sweets," Harry sighed resignedly.

"Supplies?" Neville asked, surprised that he hadn't noticed Harry had hidden sweets.

"Of course!" Mom only lets me eat a certain amount of candy. She says Grandpa Alfred would be against me eating candy before a proper meal," Harry pointed out, making Alfred and Martha smile.

"And your mother is right," Alfred suddenly assured, agreeing with his little mistress's words. "Miss Timmy has a valid point. Before consuming candy, you should eat properly."

Harry nodded, then smiled at the older man, who returned it calmly.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard..."

"Yes, your son, Harry..."

Mr. Dursley froze. Fear filled him. He turned to the whisperers, as if he wanted to say something, but held back.

Lily held her husband's hand as he looked toward their baby.

She hurried across the street and ran to her office.

"Can he run?" James and Harry asked simultaneously.

"Ha! That's all, fawn," James grinned, causing a grimace to cross Severus Snape's face, who was being ignored by Lily and James.

He shouted to his secretary that he didn't want to be disturbed, picked up the phone, and when he'd almost finished dialing his home numbers, he changed his mind. He put the receiver down and stroked his mustache, thinking... No, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't that special a surname. He was sure there were plenty of people named Potter who had a son named Harry. And on second thought, he wasn't even sure his nephew's name was Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. He could be called Harvey. Or Harold.

"I like Hadrian better," Lily smiled.

"Exactly!" Harry nodded effusively.

There was no point worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. And he couldn't blame her. If only he'd had a sister like that... But anyway, those people in cloaks...

"Is it weird to see people in cloaks?" asked a pureblood.

"As far as I know, there's a group of vigilantes in the United States who wear cloaks," said Ron calmly, drawing the attention of many, including the Wayne family.

"How do you know that?" Bill asked his younger brother.

"Harry! Harry has Black Bat," Ron said calmly.

"Black Bat?" asked Percy, puzzled.

The Waynes looked at the boy. If he had a Cass doll, then he'd have to know about the others, right?

"I also have Red Hood, Singal, Batman, Superboy, and Red Robin!" he assured, smiling happily.

Well, something in Bruce's heart vibrated, and in Jason's withered heart, something there trembled, as if it were a pleasant feeling toward the child the replacement was caring for, but for Dick and Damian things weren't right. The former felt betrayed by the fact that his nephew hadn't mentioned his alter ego, and the latter was outraged that the child Drake had taken in wouldn't consider him for his collection, although he wasn't going to admit it either.

That afternoon he had trouble concentrating on his drills, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so preoccupied that he inadvertently bumped into a man standing in the doorway.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man staggered and nearly fell to the ground.

Seconds later, Mr. Dursley noticed the man wearing a purple cloak. He didn't seem upset by the shove. On the contrary, his face lit up with a broad grin as he said in a voice so shrill it caught the attention of passersby:

"Don't apologize, my dear sir, for nothing can upset me today! It's fair to say you're happy because You-Know-Who has finally left! Even Muggles like yourself should celebrate this happy day!"

"Discretion wasn't your thing," Marcus Flint shook his head from his seat.

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley and walked away.

Mr. Dursley froze completely. A stranger had hugged him. And if that weren't enough, he'd been called a Muggle, no matter what that meant. He was bewildered. He hurriedly got into his car and headed home, hoping it was all just his imagination (something he'd never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination).

When he pulled into the driveway of number 4, the first thing he saw (and it didn't improve his mood) was the tabby cat he'd found that morning.

At that moment, he was sitting on the wall in his garden. He was sure it was the same one, as he had identical lines around his eyes.

"That cat looks familiar," James whispered to his wife.

"Get out!" Mr. Dursley said loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Mr. Dursley wondered if this was normal behavior for a cat. He tried to calm himself and went into the house. He was still determined not to say anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a good, average day. While they ate, she told him about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and that Dudley had learned a new phrase ("I won't!").

"She's a bit... nosy," Martha said, giving Lily a quick glance. "An apology."

"It's all right, Lady Wayne. I know my sister and her habit of analyzing and judging other people's lives," Lily assured her.

Mr. Dursley tried to behave normally. Once Dudley was in bed, he went into the living room in time to watch the evening news.

"And finally, birdwatchers everywhere have reported unusual behavior among the nation's owls today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are very difficult to see in daylight, there have been hundreds of reports of these birds flying in all directions since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have changed their sleeping patterns." The newscaster allowed himself a wry grin. "Very mysterious. And now, back to Jim McGuffin and the weather forecast." Will there be more owl showers tonight, Jim?

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know that, but it's not just the owls that have been acting strange today. Viewers from places as far away as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have called to say that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have started celebrating Bonfire Night early. It's next week, gentlemen! But I can promise you a rainy night."

Mr. Dursley froze in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying in broad daylight? And that rumor, that whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the dining room carrying two cups of tea. This wasn't going well. He had to say something to his wife. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Uh... Petunia, dear, have you heard anything about your sister lately?"

As she had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked annoyed and angry. After all, they usually pretended she didn't have a sister.

"I don't have a sister," Lily stated coldly. "And the idiot who thought of leaving my baby with her will suffer my wrath."

"No," she replied sharply. "Why?"

"There are some very strange things on the news," Mr. Dursley muttered. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of strange-looking people in town today..."

"So what?" Mrs. Dursley interrupted abruptly.

"Well, I thought... maybe... it might have something to do with... you know... your group."

"What are we? A cult?" Mr. Granger asked. Ever since he learned his baby had magic, he had been studying the wizarding world.

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea with pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered if he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." No, he wouldn't. Instead, he said, trying to sound nonchalant, "Their son—he's about Dudley's age, isn't he?"

"I think so," Mrs. Dursley replied stiffly.

"And what was his name? Howard, wasn't he?"

"Howard Potter?" Fred asked somewhat mockingly.

"Howard," George sneered.

"Isn't he?" Harry said, shocked.

"Harry. A vulgar and horrible name, if you ask me."

"Is my name vulgar?" Harry asked into thin air.

"Of course it is," Draco Malfoy assured him.

"Yeah, right, it's not every day that someone is called Draconis Lucius Malfoy," Hermione muffled.

"Between Hadrian and Draconis, we know which sounds vulgar and strange," Graham Montague assured him, making the albino blush.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Dursley said, feeling a terrible sense of dejection. "Yes, I agree."

He said nothing more on the subject, and they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley walked slowly to the bedroom window and scanned the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring intently down Privet Drive, as if waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Or could all this have something to do with the Potters? If that were the case... if it were discovered that they were related to some... well, he didn't think he could bear it. The Dursleys went to bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly, but Mr. Dursley lay awake, all this swirling around in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that, even if the Potters were involved in the events, there was no reason for them to go anywhere near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought of them and their kind... He didn't see how he and Petunia could be involved in anything (he yawned and rolled over)... No, it couldn't affect them...

How wrong he was!

"I hope it's not what I think is happening," Lily said, her eyes scanning the staff table. Helena had warned her, but if they'd really thought giving their baby to Petunia was a good idea, well, she'd hit someone.

Albus felt terror wash over him. He could feel death laughing at him and his audacity to anger a redhead, who, by the way, was a Potter.

Mr. Dursley fell into a fitful sleep, but the cat sitting on the garden wall showed no sign of dozing. He stood as still as a statue, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the corner of Privet Drive. He barely flinched when a car door closed on the next street, nor when two owls flew overhead. In fact, the cat didn't move until midnight.

A man appeared around the corner the cat had been watching, so suddenly and silently that one might have thought he had sprung up out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched, and his eyes narrowed.

No one had ever seen such a man on Privet Drive before. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by his silver hair and beard, which were so long he could have tied them with his belt. He wore a long tunic, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were clear, bright, and sparkled behind half-moon glasses. He had a very long, crooked nose, as if it had been fractured once. The man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Lily felt her shoulders tense, and she turned to look at her former professor.

"You? Were you the one who left my baby with that damn bitch?" the redhead asked, annoyed.

Albus felt like he could have aged even more at that moment.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to notice that he had arrived at a street where everything about him, from his name to his boots, was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something, but he seemed to realize he was being watched because he suddenly glanced at the cat, which was still staring at him from across the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and murmured, "I should have known."

In his inside pocket, he found what he was looking for. It looked like a silver lighter. He opened it, held it high in the air, and lit it. The nearest streetlight went out with a small pop. He lit it again, and the next lamp went dark. He flicked the switch twelve times, until the only lights left on the entire street were two distant pinpricks: the eyes of the cat watching him.

"That's brilliant!" Ron exclaimed excitedly.

"Professor, where did you get that?" a Ravenclaw asked curiously.

"I made it myself," the old man smiled proudly.

Many were surprised and excited.

If anyone had looked out the window at that moment, even Mrs. Dursley with her beady, beady eyes, they wouldn't have been able to see what was happening on the street outside.

Dumbledore put the Extinguisher back in his cloak and went to number 4, where he sat on the wall near the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"It's good to see you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the cat, but it was gone. Instead, he was smiling at a stern-looking woman wearing square-framed glasses, reminiscent of the lines around the cat's eyes. The woman was also wearing an emerald-colored cloak. Her black hair was tied back in a bun. She looked distinctly displeased.

"Professor, were you too?" Lily asked tensely.

It was the professor's turn to feel a certain apprehension.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat so stiff."

"You'd be stiff too if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," Professor McGonagall replied.

"All day? When could I have been partying? I must have passed a dozen celebrations and parties on my way.

"Party?" Martha asked suddenly. "They're dead, and you're partying."

"Well... It had been an event..."

"Horrible," Arthur assured her. "Molly and I never went to those parties, nor did the Lovegoods. It was disrespectful to the Potters. Merlin only knows what would have happened to their bodies!"

"Not only that," Thomas denied. "Didn't you ever think that while you were celebrating, someone might have desecrated their bodies?"

The mention of desecration made everyone shudder. They had celebrated, but they never thought beyond what could have happened.

Professor McGonagall snorted angrily.

"Oh, yes, everyone was having a party, all right," she said impatiently. "I thought they'd be a bit more cautious, but no... Even the Muggles have noticed something's up! It was on the news." She tilted her head in the direction of the Dursleys' dark parlor window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls, shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They had to notice something. Shooting stars falling in Kent... It must have been Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame him," Dumbledore said amiably. "We've had so little to celebrate for eleven years..."

"My desire to kill someone is greater," Lily said in a strained voice.

"And mine is increasing," Martha assured calmly.

Bruce would be starting to pray for those souls who would perish because of his own mother.

"I know that," Professor McGonagall replied irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People have become completely careless, going out into the streets in broad daylight, not even wearing Muggle clothes, exchanging rumors..."

She cast a sharp, sidelong glance at Dumbledore, as if expecting him to reply. But when he didn't, she continued speaking.

"It would be extraordinary if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have finally disappeared, the Muggles discovered everything about us. Because he really is gone, aren't he, Dumbledore?"

"It is as it seems," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you like a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. It's a kind of Muggle sweet I'm very fond of."

"Professor," Hermione called calmly, "do you consume many lemon drops?"

"Only a few..."

The professors looked at him, as if this were some kind of joke. He clearly consumed more than expected!

"No, thank you very much," Professor McGonagall replied coldly, as if she considered this not an appropriate moment for sweets. "As I was saying, even if You-Know-Who is gone..."

“My dear Professor, I’m sure a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name, can’t you? All that You-Know-Who nonsense… For eleven years I tried to persuade people to call him by his real name, Voldemort.” Professor McGonagall drew back fearfully, but Dumbledore, preoccupied with unwrapping two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. “It’ll all get very confusing if we keep saying ‘You-Know-Who.’ I’ve never found any reason to be afraid of using Voldemort’s name.”

“I know you don’t have that problem,” Professor McGonagall observed, a mixture of exasperation and admiration. “But you’re different. Everyone knows you’re the only one You-Know-Who… Oh, well, Voldemort, was afraid of.”

"Well, if Mum managed to get the demon head to respect her, I wouldn't be surprised if she could scare Voldy," Harry said calmly.

The Waynes felt a little uneasy. Did she say demon head? That couldn't be right! Timmy had a lot to tell them when they saw her!

"You're flattering me," Dumbledore said calmly. "Voldemort had powers I never had."

"Only because you're too... well... noble... to use them."

"It's a good thing it's dark. I haven't blushed this much since Madam Pomfrey told me you liked my new earmuffs." Professor McGonagall gave him a hard look before speaking.

"Owls are nothing compared to the rumors going around. You know what everyone's saying about how he disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

"Hey, Harry," Seamus called suddenly. "Does your mom have any superpowers?"

Harry blinked several times and shook his head.

"No, she's just addicted to coffee and sugar puffs," Harry assured her calmly.

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most eager to discuss, the real reason why she had waited all day against a cold wall, for, neither as a cat nor as a woman, had she ever looked at Dumbledore with such intensity as she was doing at that moment. It was clear that whatever "what everyone was saying" was, she wasn't going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another piece of candy and didn't answer.

"What they're saying," he insisted, "is that last night Voldemort appeared in Godric's Hollow. He was coming for the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are... are... well, they're dead."

James and Lily looked at each other, their gazes filled with sadness, utter fear. Thomas and Martha, for their part, looked at each other; they could see the pain on the Potters' faces, and that, that was a terrible thing.

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I don't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..." Dumbledore came over and patted him on the back.

"I know... I know..." he said sadly.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she continued.

"That's not all. They say he wanted to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that boy. No one knows why, or how, but they say that because he couldn't kill him, Voldemort's power was broken... and that's why he's gone."

Harry grimaced. His mother's hypothesis was that his mother, when she stood between him and the spell, had caused a blood barrier. No hidden magic, no powers beyond comprehension, but a sacrifice of love.

Dumbledore nodded sadly.

"Is... is it true?" stammered Professor McGonagall. "After all he did... all the people he killed... he couldn't kill a child? It's astonishing... of all the things that might have stopped him... But how in heaven's name did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall took out a lace-trimmed handkerchief and dabbed it across her eyes behind her glasses.

Dumbledore snorted as he took a gold watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very strange watch. It had twelve hands and no numbers; small planets moved around the perimeter of the circle. But it must have made sense to Dumbledore, because he put it away and said.

"It's a watch given upon reaching the age of majority, a sign that one is considered an adult," Marcus Flint said calmly when he noticed the looks on many of the Muggle-born children's faces. "Peregrine already has his."

Peregrine Derrick, who was a Chaser on the Quidditch team, nodded, showing off a gold watch.

"Hagrid's late. I take it he was the one who told you I'd be here, wasn't he?" "Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I take it you're not going to tell me why, of all the places, you had to come here of all places."

"I've come to deliver Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"Albus Dumbledore!" Lily yelled, her face flushed red. "What on earth were you thinking?!"

"Lily, dear, they—"

"They were bullies!" Lily yelled again. "Or have you forgotten the time I begged you to let me go to Marlenne's house, when Petunia threw boiling water on me?!"

Albus spluttered, remembering that event.

Lily's shriek, sharp and full of pain, echoed in Albus Dumbledore's mind, an echo that haunted him through the years. The image of young Lily, barely thirteen years old, her face reddened by burns, imposed itself with merciless cruelty. Memories, usually blurred by the mists of time and melancholy, became vivid, cruel, lacerating.

The heat of the scalding water, Lily's agonized scream, the desperation in her eyes… it all returned with an intensity that took his breath away. The guilt, that heavy burden he had carried for decades, intensified, becoming an unbearable torment. Lily… my dear Lily… The thought echoed in his mind, a silent lament that expressed the magnitude of his failure.

It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake, a mistake that had marked Lily's life forever. The memory of her plea, her desperate request for help, haunted him. She had been a child, vulnerable, defenseless, and he, the powerful wizard, the leader of the magical community, had failed to protect her. He had failed to prevent Lily's suffering, he had failed to stop Petunia's abuse, and he had also made the mistake of believing that Harry would be safe with Petunia. He didn't know the circumstances of how Harry came to be in Miss Drake's arms, but he suspected it wasn't a good thing.

James, for his part, tried to calm his wife. He knew how his beloved had felt; he himself had had a fit of rage at Petunia's audacity in attacking his beloved Lily.

"You mean...? You can't mean the people who live here!" the professor shouted, leaping to her feet and pointing at number 4. "Dumbledore... he can't. I've been watching you all day. I couldn't find anyone more unlike us. And that son of yours... I saw him kicking his mother as they climbed the stairs, screaming for candy. Harry Potter can't live there!"

"Kicked his mother?" Jean Granger asked, frightened.

"How dare you," Molly denied, disgusted. "My children would be kneeling in the sun by now, begging for mercy!"

The Weasley children nodded; they knew their mother's temper.

"Ha! And I would have gotten even for it, wouldn't I, Bruce?"

Bruce could only nod, under the gaze of his children.

"It's the best place for him," Dumbledore said firmly. Your uncles will be able to explain everything to you when you're older. I wrote them a letter.

"A letter?" Alfred repeated, stunned.

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall, sitting back down. "Dumbledore, do you really think you can explain everything in a letter? Those people will never understand Harry! He'll be famous... a legend... I wouldn't be surprised if today was known in the future as Harry Potter Day! They'll write books about Harry... every child in the world will know his name."

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very serious over his glasses. "It would be enough to make any child dizzy. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he doesn't even remember! Don't you realize that it would be far better for him to grow up away from it all, until he's ready to come to terms with it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes... yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy ever going to get here, Dumbledore?" —He suddenly looked at the professor's cloak, as if he thought he might be hiding Harry.

—He wasn't that little,—Harry denied, then looked down at his baby self and frowned softly.—At least I don't think so.

—Harry darling, you're too little,—James assured calmly.

—Mum always said I'd grow out of it; she was just as little as me,—Harry assured him.

Bruce smiled.

—Of course Timmy was little. Sometimes I had to look around for her because she got lost so easily,—Wayne assured him.

And it wasn't a lie; even Alfred had to look around several times to make sure he didn't lose his young lady.

"Hagrid will bring it."

"Does it seem... sensible... to trust Hagrid with something as important as that?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't where it should be," said Professor McGonagall reluctantly. "But you can't tell me he isn't careless. He has a habit of... What was that?"

A muffled noise broke the silence around them. It grew louder as they looked up and down the street, searching for any light. It rose to a roar as they both looked skyward, and then a heavy motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

The motorcycle was immense, but compared to the man riding it, he looked like a toy. He was twice as tall as an average man and at least five times as wide. You could tell he was too big to be accepted, and so unkempt too... Long, straggly black hair and a beard that covered almost his entire face. His hands were the size of dustbin lids, and his feet, shod in leather boots, looked like baby dolphins. In his huge, muscular arms, he held a bundle wrapped in blankets.

"I wrapped you very carefully," Hagrid assured suddenly, drawing the Potters' attention. "I even used two extra blankets, I was afraid you'd get sick."

"Hagrid," said a relieved Dumbledore. "Finally. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"I borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore," replied the giant, carefully getting out of the vehicle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I brought him back, sir."

The adults thought the Potters would react badly, but Harry smiled; his mother had assured him that he'd have his godfather back.

"No trouble there?"

"No, sir. The house was nearly destroyed, but I got him out before the Muggles started appearing. He fell asleep as we flew over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent over the blankets. Between them was a small boy, fast asleep. Under a shock of jet-black hair, on his forehead, they could see a scar with a curious shape, like a lightning bolt.

Several young ladies rocked baby Harry, both the one in the book and the one asleep in the bassinet.

"Was it there...?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," replied Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Can't he do anything, Dumbledore?" "Even if he could, he wouldn't. Scars can be useful. I have one on my left knee that's a perfect diagram of the London Underground. Well, leave it there, Hagrid, we'd better get this over with."

"A lot of information," said Eliot Granger.

"I don't like it," Harry shook his head. "Uncle Bart, I got into the habit of wearing a little star."

"So that's where the colored stars came from," said Susan Bones, surprised.

"Yep, an inside joke or something," Harry assured him.

Dumbledore turned back to the Dursleys' house.

"Can I... can I say goodbye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid.

He bent his great shaggy head over Harry's and kissed him, scuffing his beard. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl, like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" said Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-sorry," whimpered Hagrid, and mopped his face with a large handkerchief. But I can't bear it... Lily and James are dead... and poor little Harry will have to live with Muggles...

"Hagrid..." Harry called hesitantly. "My mum, uncle, aunts, and godfather are all Muggles.

"She's different, Harry," Hagrid assured. "I've met your mother; she's a very kind, pleasant woman."

Harry nodded; it gave him peace of mind, but on the Wayne side, Dick was feeling a pang in his heart. The way he called someone else uncle was complicated. Someone had taken his place without a fight.

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but pull yourself together, Hagrid, or we'll be discovered," whispered Professor McGonagall, patting Hagrid's arm as Dumbledore stepped over the garden gate and went to the door opposite. He gently placed Harry on the threshold, took the letter from his cloak, hid it in the boy's blankets, and then returned to the other two. For a long minute the three of them stared at the small bundle. Hagrid's shoulders shuddered. Professor McGonagall blinked furiously. The flickering light that Dumbledore's eyes usually radiated seemed to have left them.

"They left him on the threshold?" asked a stunned Jason, surprised that such a small child had been left out in the open.

"We couldn't leave him inside," assured Minerva.

"They could have knocked on the door," Jason pointed out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's it." We've got nothing to do here. We'd better go and join the celebrations.

"Uh-huh," Hagrid said hoarsely. "I'm going to return the bike to Sirius. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore."

Hagrid wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve, climbed onto the bike, and kicked the lever to start the engine. With a clatter, it soared into the air and disappeared into the night.

"I'll see you soon, I hope, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding at her.

Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and marched off down the street. He stopped at the corner and raised the Silver Extinguisher. He turned it on once, and all the street lights came on, so that Privet Drive was lit up with an orange glow, and he could see a tabby cat slinking around a corner at the far end of the street. He could also see the bundle of blankets on the steps of number 4.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and, with a flick of his cloak, was gone.

A breeze stirred the neat hedges of Privet Drive. The street was silent under an inky sky. This was the last place you'd expect amazing things to happen. Harry Potter turned over in the blankets, not waking. A small hand closed over the letter, and he slept on, unaware that he was famous, unaware that in a few hours he would be awakened by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to get the milk bottles out. Nor that he was going to spend the next few weeks being poked and prodded by his cousin Dudley. He couldn't know that, at that very moment, people gathering in secret all over the country were raising their glasses and saying, in hushed voices, "To Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived!"

"Oh my God!" Martha said, hearing the audacity that her first great-grandson would experience. "Is there anything else, or is this the end?"

"I think..." Molly's words trailed off as she saw three periods appear. "There's something else, a small paragraph."

"Go ahead, Molly," Albus nodded.

Across the Atlantic Ocean, in the state of New Jersey, in Gotham, to be precise, a small bird no more than twelve years old hopped between the buildings, dressed in red, yellow, and green, the small figure following a larger one dressed in black.

"Twelve springs?" Dick asked, surprised.

"Twelve years," someone assured him. "Women are considered springs, men, autumn."

That small light, surrounded by the melancholy of the city of crime, watched as the sun began to rise, ready to return home and welcome his parents after months of traveling through Germany. The figure disguised as a man smiled, unaware of the magical pull that called him to the British Isles, focusing only on following his mentor and getting home safely.

"The chapter is over," Molly said calmly.

"A twelve-year-old girl pretending to be a man," Arthur denied, frightened. "Oh, I couldn't imagine something like that."

The Waynes said nothing. Martha longed to smack her son on the back of the head, but she would be saving the event for the exact moment.

Chapter Text

Primera parte

Martha Wayne wanted so badly to hit her son and grandchildren. She loved them, of course she loved them very much; Bruce had been born from her womb, and although some weren't her son's children, she loved them very much too, but Martha cared deeply for her daughters, for her sweet Cass and her sweet Timmy, so she needed to know how much her little girl had suffered.

"Who's reading now?" Molly asked calmly.

"Before," Jasmine interrupted when she saw a few people raising their hands. "Harry, your mother is waiting for you in the Gryffindor common room."

"Hey! Really?" the boy asked excitedly.

Jasmine smiles and nods. The mention that the Boy Who Lived's mother was at Hogwarts, in the Lions Common Room to be precise, was causing a murmur from people eager to know why the woman who had looked after Potter (Potter-Drake!) wasn't with them.

"Can I go with Mum?" Harry asked nervously, looking at his parents and Jasmine.

"She's waiting for you, and I think it would be best. There are things you know, Harry, but there are others you're better off not knowing," Jasmine said, her sad smile capturing everyone's attention.

Harry wasn't stupid. One night, before the Hogwarts letters arrived, he overheard his mother talking to someone named Ra's. Whatever the man had wanted had devastated his mother, a strong woman. He told her, with tears in his eyes and a crack in his voice, what he had gone through to bring his grandfather back home. It wasn't a story for a ten-year-old boy, but his mother, between pleas, had asked him not to see her as a villain, and Harry couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Dad," Harry said, looking at his father. "Can I go with Mum? I know she's going to need me..."

James smiled. Timothea Drake was, so far, the woman who had made Harry a good man, and he appreciated that, so, after looking at Lily, he nodded.

"Sure, Harry, and when the chapter is over, you and Timmy can come over," James agreed calmly.

Jasmine handed Harry a small metal bat, similar to those little communicators bats used to call for help. Bruce and the others could identify it.

Harry, small but agile, quickly said, "I'll be right back," and left the Great Hall, prompting soft smiles from the Gryffindor upper classes, who were delighted to see their little lion like this. Even Percy had to suppress the smile that wanted to form, since with his small body, Harry was like those little porcelain dolls they longed to protect.

"Will we be able to meet Potter-Drake's mother?" Marcus Flint asked curiously.

"Yes, but why Potter-Drake?" Jasmine asked curiously.

"He told us his last name was Potter-Drake, and he emphasized that they were going together, so we respected his wishes," Daphne assured calmly.

"The good thing is she didn't say her full last name," Jasmine smiled, drawing everyone's attention, but there were no further responses. "Who's reading?"

"Me!" exclaimed Madame Sprout.

Jasmine nodded. Madame Sprout would be the best choice to read. She knew what was coming next: the chapter about her mother and brother, a chapter that might make her great-grandmother cry.

"Chapter Two: The Bird That Flew, the Bird That Fell, the Bird That Rose." Somehow, that title worried the older people, especially the Waynes (Bruce, Thomas, and Martha). It also worried Alfred and made the others uncomfortable.

It had been in 1983 when Thadeus Higgs ran away from home at just sixteen years old.

Thadeus Higgs? Who was that, and what did he have to do with Potter-Drake's mother? Terence, for his part, felt as if his face might lose blood and turn pale as a ghost. That was the name of his uncle, who had fled (as had already been reported) for some unknown reason.

Thadeus had fled the British Isles when he discovered he would be unable to have children and, consequently, his family would be marked as a stain by having no heirs.

Terence's eyes widened almost comically. Was that why? Did he think they were going to disinherit him? What would they allow to be the family's mockery? Of course not!

He knew his family would protect him, he even knew that he himself would name his younger brother as heir, but with the assaults of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he preferred to flee rather than paint a red circle on his family's back.

Some who had relatives who had done the same sighed; those had been troubled times.

His stop and new home were in the American lands, in New Jersey, in Gotham City, a city known for the worst crimes in existence, and the least likely place they'd look for him.

"I think I know where this is going," Damian whispered to Dick.

"Yeah?"

Damian nodded, hoping he was wrong, but he highly doubted he was.

Settling in the city had been nothing short of a challenge. With the money he'd taken as part of his inheritance, he'd asked the American goblins for a new identity, and that's how Jack Drake was born.

"Oh well, holy crap," Jason said, surprised.
"Jay!" Dick scolded.

"You know I'm right," the two-toned man pointed out.

Bruce, for his part, almost felt his mask fall. What did that mean? The Slytherins, for their part, looked askance at Terence Higgs. Those closest to them were beginning to connect the dots. If Miss Drake was who they believed, the young woman wouldn't be neglected by her family. Molly and Arthur knew it. The Higgses were overprotective of their family. Old Lord Higgs was very protective of his heirs, who were Taylor and his son Terence. If news spread that Thadeus Higgs had fathered a child (a daughter), the man would pull every string to keep the young woman safe, and they would help him.

For three years, he had built his empire. It was with the help of the Goblins that he was able to build Drake Industries, where his family history was that of being an orphan. His parents had died, and he inherited everything. A cruel gesture toward his parents, who were in the British Isles, but they were the best options.

It was during a gala that he met Janet Van der Meer, a woman with a cold and authoritarian character who had made even the oldest men in the room cry.

"Van der Meer?" Bruce wondered. He recognized that name. Where? He didn't remember it, but if it was within the events of his past, he was sure of it.

They had become good friends, at least from Jack's point of view. Unfortunately, it was during a rainy day that Janet arrived, wet and shivering from the cold.

"Janet?" he asked, looking at the woman with grayish eyes. "What happened?"

"I made a mistake and I need your help," she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Jack nodded and let her into his home. Janet recounted the events of a gala. The alcohol in her system had taken its toll and caused her to make a mistake that night.

Many began to wonder what that mistake was, one that would crucify the women of their community.

She had slept with a man and now she was pregnant.

"No wonder Drake is a bastard," Damian mocked.

"Damian," Martha scolded angrily.

"I'm not asking you to take responsibility, but I need your help. I need to escape from here before I'm sold to the highest bidder," she pleaded in a desperate tone.

Jack knew what she was talking about and could use the event to his advantage. The old sharks were dropping hints about him needing an heir and Janet needing a quick exit, so he proposed the plan.

They married secretly and announced the news to their families when Janet's belly had begun to show. The news hit the newspapers, some women who had tried to get into Jack's bed felt defeated, and the men who were ready to offer money for Janet's hand resigned.

It was on July 19, 1987, that his daughter, his heir, Timothea Jacqueline Drake, was born, and it was the day Jack felt he could wield his wand again for that little girl.

Terence nearly choked on his saliva. So Potter's mother was his cousin? Oh, my goodness. The Waynes, for their part, were surprised; they were learning a side of Timmy's parents' lives they hadn't seen before.

Timmy, as he affectionately called him, had been born with brown hair and bright blue eyes. It seemed he resembled his father, or some relative of the man in question.

"But Timmy has black hair," Dick said.

"You'll soon know why," Jasmine assured him.

Jack looked at the little girl, and just as Janet was resting, Jack apparated to the bank at Gringotts Bank in America. Speaking with his account manager was quick. Since he wasn't capable of having children, the money he was raising would go to his brother and his future son, but now, he also had to protect his daughter's safety.

A blood adoption was the best option. It was illegal in the British Isles as it was considered forbidden magic, but in America, it seemed to be acceptable, especially for families who couldn't have children.

That had been an interesting fact; Bruce would investigate further.

"Ready to do the adoption?" the goblin had asked, flashing a smile that showed off his sharp teeth.

"I am, but I'd like to know who her father is. It's mostly in case there are any illnesses I need to know about," Jack assured him. His daughter's health would be the most important thing.

Damian also longed to know who Drake's father was so he could tease the man. Jasmine was going to sigh and laugh when Damian found out.

The inheritance test had revealed something Jack hadn't expected, or at least, he hadn't imagined.

Name: Timothea Jacqueline Wayne Van der Meer
Father: Bruce Thomas Wayne Black
Mother: Janet Van der Meer

A noise was heard as Damian and Bruce stood up at the same time. Bruce couldn't believe it. That's where the name sounded familiar! He couldn't believe it, but a dull thud resonated in his chest. It wasn't a physical pain like in his battles, but the shock of knowing that the girl he had trained, protected, and adopted was actually his daughter, his blood daughter. And soon, guilt wrapped around him like a cold blanket. Years of absence, of a fatherhood that had been taken away from him, years of allowing her to be treated badly. Did Timmy know? Was that why she approached him? But if it was, she would have told him, wouldn't she?

"Mr. Wayne?" Jasmine, his granddaughter, called softly. Oh shit, his granddaughter.

"I..." Her words trailed off as Damian let out a scream.

"I refuse! That usurper can't be my sister! I don't want her!"

But it was Jason who shut him up.

"Oh, shut the hell up," he said, giving Dick a dirty look, daring him to say something, to defend the teenager who was always attacking Tim. "Ironies of life, aren't they? You've called Timmy horrible names, and look, she's the old man's daughter, and the most ironic thing is, his firstborn! You're no longer the heir Thalia tried so hard to make you believe, you're just the replacement. Ha! You're the replacement's replacement!"

Her cruel and heartless mockery had made bile rise in Damian's throat. He refused to believe Drake was his sister. He wouldn't accept it! The idea repulsed him. The other members of the family went through various stages, and yet Martha smiled happily.

Terence, standing next to Adrian, glared at the so-called demon. Who did he think he was, treating his cousin so badly? He'd pay for it.

Jack didn't know what to do with the information, but when he asked to see the portraits of Martha and Thomas, he understood his daughter's appearance. Martha Wayne had beautifully styled brown hair and beautiful blue eyes, which his daughter had inherited.

Martha squealed happily. She would have liked to see her granddaughter like that. Thomas imagined a mini-Martha running around everywhere. He would have liked to see it. Bruce, for his part, wanted to scream. His daughter would have been the very image of his mother, and that beautiful opportunity had been robbed from him. Alfred could only pray to see that spitting image of Mrs. Martha, but young.

He felt bad for letting Mrs. Wayne's memory be lost, but at the same time, he knew he had to keep his daughter safe, so he made a difficult decision: a partial adoption.

Multiple gasps were heard throughout the great hall, confusing the Muggle-borns and the newcomers.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Is a partial adoption bad?" Martha asked, worried about her granddaughter.

"A partial adoption could allow both families to claim either the boy or the girl," Lily said.

"It's also problematic, since if the girl has had more contact with one of the two parties, the blood will be in a battle to see who should be worthy or not," Arthur said. "Hereditary dysphoria. She could have a mixture of both when she grows up."

"Miss Drake, who does she look more like?" Molly asked calmly, trying to convey a sense of calm to those present.

"The last time I saw her, she looked like Janet," Bruce assured her.

"No, it had to be a glamour. She must have looked like her father or her other father," James pointed out.

Bruce almost trembled. Now something bothered him about the way they had used the word "other."

"There's also the fact that if there's another child involved, Thadeus's magic, or in this case, Jack, will try to keep his daughter safe," Arthur said. "She might attack someone who thinks she's a threat."

"Attack?" Dick asked, as he moved closer to Damian.

Somehow, that action enraged Terence. Why? He wasn't quite sure.

"Yes, if there's another child, whether from Miss Janet's side or from... you, and he's violent and aggressive, Thadeus's magic will activate to protect Timmy, either by making the person in question avoid her or ignore her," Lily said. She had hesitated to say her own word.

"In the worst case scenario, and she being the firstborn, it would provoke hatred and aggression," Jasmine said, looking at Damian, who held her gaze.

Bruce choked on his own saliva. "Aggression?" Could that be the reason Damian hated her so much?

"Well, shit, that explains why the demon hates Babybird so much," Jason pointed out calmly. "He hates her for being the firstborn."

And Damian, unknowingly, was in the sights of many purebloods who were allied with House Higgs.

"I think it's best to do a partial adoption," Jack said, pulling the baby girl closer to his chest. "I don't want to erase Lady Wayne's heritage, but I want the child as my own."

"If so, I need three drops of her blood in this potion," the account manager commented.

Jack complied. For a full adoption, six drops of blood were required, but since they had decided it would be partial, Jack only gave three. The potion had turned a clear hue, and when it was placed in the bottle Jack had brought, they gave it to the baby. It took a matter of thirty minutes for it to take effect. Her little (and almost no) hair had turned a beautiful dark shade, similar to Janet's and his own. Her eyes had acquired a blue-gray hue, but her nose had remained the same. Anyone who saw her would see a perfect blend of Janet and hers, but if you looked closely, you'd notice the girl had features that matched the Waynes.

"Well, now we know why Babybird's nose looks so much like Grandma's," Jason pointed out.

Martha smiled delightedly.

Jack looked at her with all the love he could muster. He hadn't been able to father a child on his own; but he had acquired one thanks to the careless actions of Janet and Bruce.

Bruce shifted in his chair. Timmy must have been his from the start, but it's not like he could have done anything about it. These were his early days as Batman, and having the baby would have been too risky.

Timothea Jacqueline Drake was now the heir to the Drake fortune, and in the future, The heir to the Higgs Domain.

Terence nodded. If his cousin asked, he would give her the heirship.

Twelve years had passed since Timmy was born, and in that time, many things had happened. When she was three, Timmy, who was a very quiet girl, entertaining herself with puzzles and solving riddles and mysteries, had an experience she would never have forgotten.

"Of course she would have liked them as a child," Alfred smiled tenderly.

Months before she turned four, the Hayley Circus came to Gotham, and Jack couldn't deny his daughter the chance to go. Big mistake.

Dick tensed. Was it possible that Timmy...? No, it couldn't be true.

Jack would have drawn his wand, would have performed magic to keep his princess from seeing the flying Graysons die, but he couldn't do it, not when he kept his eyes on Tony Suko's men. That bastard had a history of not only being a trafficker, but also a pimp, and if he let his eyes off the children in the circus, one of them would fall into that man's hands.

"Did she see my parents die?" Dick asked, stunned.

"She did," Jasmine assured him.

Timmy would never have believed she'd seen something so horrible. Dick Grayson's screams over his parents' death had woken her up several times during the night. Her nightmares had caused Jack to sleep with her, cradling her little body and assuring her that everything would be okay.

Dick felt a chill run through his body, while Bruce felt bad. He should have been the one to do that, not Jack.

Timmy's nightmares stopped, and soon, when his parents had to leave on a trip, Timmy did something no one would approve of at his tender age of 8. Follow Batman and Robin!

Bruce was going to start hyperventilating if he believed that was what he was thinking. Jason, Dick, Alfred, and Martha weren't any better.

"Is that bad?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Gotham's crime rate is high; no one should be out without proper training," Thomas said.

"And he... she didn't have it," Jason whispered, worried, imagining the little girl he'd seen in the picture roaming Gotham's most dangerous streets.

With his parents out of the house, Timmy took the time to wander around Gotham, following the vigilantes' shadows, until a realization dawned on him shortly after his ninth birthday. Robin had done a quadruple flip! And he'd only ever seen one person do that: Dick Grayson!

"Really?" Damian asked Dick. "Drake knew it from a damn stunt."

"Your sister's always been smart, Damian," Martha assured, emphasizing the word "sister."

Timmy quickly connected the dots. Bruce Wayne was Batman!

Bruce was definitely going to faint.

Even if he didn't say it, Tim really liked Batman. He was great! (Bruce smiled, causing them to almost snort. Timmy was gaining favor with the favorite daughter.) But soon, Robin's magic faded. Timmy never knew exactly what happened, but soon, Dick Grayson had moved away, and Batman was without a Robin.

Jason was mentally preparing himself. It was clear Timmy would also know his identity, but it seemed he held Grayson in high regard, which Timmy had of Dick would probably overlook.

Timmy didn't quite understand what was happening when he suddenly saw him. A new Robin.

Jason was ready to hear Tim's criticism of him.

And he was shining!

Jason blinked several times. What?

Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne's new ward and adopted son, was the new Robin, and Timmy liked him more than Dick Grayson.

"Hey!" Dick exclaimed, offended, hearing what his sister thought of him.

"Drake has bad taste," Damian assured.

"Does she like me more than Dick?" Jason asked, surprised, but Jasmine just smiled.

Timmy felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Let it not be what I'm thinking," Bruce suddenly thought, scared, imagining his little girl being taken away from him. Yes, maybe it was admiration, but there was something that assured him it wasn't.

It wasn't just admiration he felt every time he saw the boy jumping across the city rooftops, but in his innocent mind, he felt there was something deeper, something that made him feel a whirlwind of emotions he didn't understand. It was as if the air became thicker and time stopped in those brief moments when their eyes met.

"It sounds like the girl is in love," said Jubelian Fray, who was sitting in Slytherin.

"An innocent, childlike love," her best friend, Jules, agreed. "How lucky the boy is to be the girl's innocent, childlike first love."

Jason didn't know what to say. A childlike love? First love? Was that what Tim felt? Oh no, oh no, it couldn't be. Her heart was racing for some reason.

For her, watching Robin practice his acrobatics was unimaginable; every movement flowed with a natural grace that made her breathless.

It had taken some time, multiple photographs, and rehearsed speeches in front of her vanity mirror for her to work up the courage to talk to Jason at school.

Some people squealed at how cute that sounded, and for a moment, everyone could imagine a girl rehearsing in front of a mirror to please her crush.

When the day came, Tim chickened out.

"What a surprise," Damian mocked. "He's always been incompetent."

"Damian!" Martha exclaimed, annoyed that neither Dick nor Bruce would do anything to correct him.

And she almost cried.

"Jason!" everyone exclaimed (even Damian, to his own surprise).

"What did you do to the girl?" Bruce asked, annoyed.

"Nothing!" Jason quickly assured her.

"Maybe you didn't do anything directly, maybe you did it unconsciously," Lily commented calmly.

She knew Jason was the sensation of the moment; his bad-boy nature, out of step with the norm that Bristol parents had for their sons and daughters, attracted attention, but she never imagined it would be so much. Timmy, who had skipped several grades just out of boredom, watched as Jason was kissed by Catherine Vanderbilt, one of the most popular girls in school.

"Oh, so that's what it was," Jason said nervously.

"You made out with that annoying Vanderbilt girl?!" Dick exclaimed.

"Do you know her?"

"She was a spoiled brat. She thought everyone had to kiss the ground," Jason pointed out. "I never understood why he kissed me. He said I wasn't his type..."

So that day, she went home. Luckily for her, her parents had returned from their trip to Germany!

"Oh, my sweet sapphire is home," her father had said when he saw her enter the dining room, kneeling down and extending her arms as if she wanted a hug, and Tim had granted it.

"Dad..." she sobbed, feeling tears fall uncontrollably down her cheeks. The disappointment of seeing the boy who was her first love kissing someone weighed heavily on her heart.

Bruce wanted to punch Jason.

"You broke her heart!" Dick shouted angrily.

"And how was I supposed to know she liked me!" Jason exclaimed.

Jack hugged him tightly, gently stroking his hair, trying to offer him some comfort.

"What happened, honey?" Jack asked, his voice soft and understanding.

Tim pulled away slightly to look his father in the eyes. Despite his pain, he felt Jack's love and support give him a little comfort. And there was no need to tell him what was happening; his dad understood it was something that was painful to him.

"You know I'll be here when you need me, right?" his father asked softly.

And Tim nodded, because he knew his dad would always catch her if she fell, protect her even from himself. After all, that's what dads do with their daughters: protect them.

Bruce feels he can get up and go find her, tell her he's there, that he too can protect her.

His mother, a woman who was cold in public but kind in the privacy of her home, had spoken to her that night. Her words about first love had stuck with her. Her mother was right. She had stopped being Timothea Drake a long time ago. She was Timothy, heir to the Drake fortune, an image so meticulously crafted to keep her safe from a world where even men believed women couldn't drive.

"How silly, we have matriarchal houses here," someone pointed out.

"Here, that's the Muggle world," someone else asserted.

"How annoying..."

So Timmy decided to be what his parents wanted, a boy. But even so, he couldn't help but look where Jason Todd was, whether at school or at the galas they had coincided with, even where Robin was jumping among the city's roof tiles. It's a shame her dreams ended like that, mere fantasies of a girl grieving for the loss of a light that had brightened her days.

"I hope it's not what I'm thinking," Alfred whispered, his heart heavy.

For a few days, she didn't see Jason. Had he fallen ill? If so, she hoped Mr. Pennyworth would take care of him. According to the rumors spread throughout the exasperating Gauls, the British man made delicious food that would melt even the most discerning palate.

"Well, I agree with Babybird. Alfred cooks delicious food," Jason assured her.

Unfortunately, it wasn't an illness that would have kept Jason from going to school. News of Jason's disappearance had made it into the gossip columns and the news. Some kids at school were saying he'd run away, that he'd figured out his place, and that upset Tim, who took some drastic measures. After all, who would suspect him if Tommy Cabanot broke his leg and couldn't play in the next game? Who would point the finger at him about the mess of white glue and residue on Samantha Wools' scooter helmet? And most of all, who would suspect that he was the one who'd punctured the chemistry teacher's tires, causing her to have an accident? No one!

"What?!" Dick yelled. "She could have killed someone!"

"As far as I know, your sister did it so they'd respect Jason, unlike the young master who cut Tim's line so he'd fall into the void," Thomas pointed to where Damian was.

"Cut the line?" Bruce asked, stunned. Yes, he'd been annoyed at first, but upon hearing his father's words, he focused his attention on Damian. "What?"

"Tt, I only did what Mother recommended, to take out the usurper..."

Damian's words trail off as a spell grazes his cheek, causing a line of blood to run down his cheek, stunning the Waynes.

"Watch how you talk about my cousin!" Terence exclaimed, furious when he saw the boy stand up. He wasn't afraid of her, he never would be. "Unlike you, spoiled brat, Timmy has more people backing him up, and families willing to raise their wands."

The Slytherin table nodded; somehow, they had a strong respect for the girl, and no wonder; there was something about her that drew them to her.

Madame Sprout decided to continue reading.

Soon the news arrived, the worst news Tim could ever get. Joker, the killer clown (or Mr. Jokes, as he liked to call him), had started bragging about Robin's death.

Jason felt like he might start hyperventilating, so worried, Lily, who had noticed the change in the boy, handed her son's small body to him. After being puzzled by the new arms holding him, Lily settled in and gave a soft smile to Jason, who, stunned, looked at him.

It had to be a joke, it had to be, but soon, the news only confirmed her worst fear.

"In breaking news, it is announced that Jason Peter Todd Wayne, adopted son of our beloved philanthropist, Bruce Wayne, has died," they had announced one morning before she left for school. "It seems that his tragic death was caused by an attack that claimed the life of the minor; along with several other people..."

"He died?"
"But... he's here."
"What's going on?"

But Tim's mind went dark. What? Was his Robin dead? No, he couldn't believe it, but as he watched the news that had begun to change, his mind shut down, his heart tightened, and his vocal cords tore at the scream he uttered.

In the large dining room, a scream echoed, loud and shaking more than one person, filled with pain, revealing what the person in question felt.

"What was that!" a fifth-grade boy shouted.

"That was Timothea Drake's scream when she learned of Jason Todd's death," Jasmine assured.

None of the Waynes could move, but the one in the worst state was Jason. The scream that had echoed in the dining room, the one that had made the walls rumble and seemed to break the stable points of the structure, but for Jason it was worse. She imagined her replacement watching the news about his death. She imagined him while he was having breakfast, a breakfast that would turn bitter at the news of his death. She imagined him days ago, defending with his small body the bad words they said about him. She imagined her, but also for a second, she imagined the youngest crying loudly over that tragedy.

Her scream echoed through the dining room of their home, her small arms wrapped around her, and her grayish-blue eyes filled with tears, and she felt like she was gasping for air. Tim wasn't aware that the nanny, Mrs. Mac, was already there, but soon, arms wrapped around her. The smell of her father's cologne, she knew it, the smell was familiar, it was perfect.

"Timmy, honey, what happened?" her father asked, as he held her, and all she could do was point at the television.

It seemed like some kind of joke; the news now wasn't just covering Jason's death; But also Robin's.

"What a bastard, taking advantage of a child's death," Molly said angrily, surprising her children with her swear words.

The days that followed were terrible. Her father had had to leave Gotham. Her dad had assured her they would return soon, but it hurt, it hurt a lot, and she wasn't the only one.

Batman was becoming a danger, and Bruce Wayne was becoming careless about what was happening around him.

"What does this mean, Father?" Damian asked, but Bruce didn't answer.

Tim had followed him. Yes, it was foolish and a bold move, but that didn't stop her. She followed him, wanting to keep him safe, when suddenly she saw the brutality with which Batman attacked. He had sent more than thirty people to intensive care! One of them even died shortly after, so she made a difficult decision. She would become Robin, she would follow Jason's legacy, even if she didn't want to be.

"Oh no! No, no, no!" Jason's voice had begun to tremble with desperation itself. His hands, the same ones still holding little Harry, tightened their grip on the younger boy, because until now, it was what kept him grounded, so to speak.

"Jason, darling, breathe," his grandmother's pleading tone echoed. He could feel Bruce's presence nearby, even Lily Potter's.

But Jason couldn't hear it. In his mind, in his head, the events at Titans Tower were replaying over and over again. The event was now slowly becoming more vivid. Soon, the grimace he thought the boy had given him had been, more than anything, a pained look she had conveyed.

The soft whisper she had given him that day of the attack on Titans Tower had made Jason tremble.

He had shown up at Wayne Manor one day, a backpack slung over his shoulders and his boyish disguise all the way on. Mr. Pennyworth opened the door. The kind man looked a decade older, but also darkened and absorbed by grief.

"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth, my name is Tim, Tim Drake, and I'm here to help Mr. Wayne," he assured, handing him a piece of paper that mimicked a resume.

"I remember, the young lady showed up one Friday after school, wearing a backpack that had some essential things inside," Alfred assured with a smile.

Many tried to imagine a little girl who would have shown up trying to look like an adult.

For Alfred Pennyworth, the little boy was a beacon of light in the face of the tormented death of his young master, Jason, so he didn't hesitate to let him in. He wished he'd thought better of it.

"What?" Jason asked. "What do you mean?"

"What did they do to my cousin?" Terence whispered softly.

Tim didn't have it easy at first. Bruce Wayne was a huge, muscular mountain of sadness and agony, alcoholic and violent.

Bruce felt his cheeks flush, while Jason was starting to worry.

The guy was deplorable; he looked like he was trying to kill himself, and although she was tempted to leave him, Tim knew she had to do some things to get his head out of her ass.

Well, Bruce felt offended.

Her training as Robin wasn't the best; Batman held her like a stress ball, and it was stressful and painful.

"What?" Martha looked at him, causing Bruce to look away.

"Bruce..."

"It wasn't my best moment," she assured in a low voice.

And that worried many.

Tim already knew how to defend himself. His father had taught him the basics so nothing bad would happen to him, which helped a lot when they went out on night patrol in Gotham. But adapting his body and movement to Batman's way of fighting was complicated. The man was cruel and ruthless; every time she fell, he forced her to get up, and although it didn't bother her that he called him Jason, it hurt. It hurt because it reminded her of the harsh reality that her Robin was dead, but that didn't stop her.

Tim had lost count of how many times he had to return home after dark, with some luck getting two hours of sleep before school. Always hurt, if not his ankle, then his wrist, his arm, or one of his sides, Bruce didn't hold back his blows.

"What the fuck, Bruce?!" Jason yelled angrily.

"Drake had to do something..."

Damian's words trailed off when Martha slapped him, causing the red mark to spread across his cheek.

"I'm hearing you talking like that about your sister Damian again, and believe me, she'll know who Bruce inherited his cold shoulder from," the woman said, then looked at Dick, who had opened his mouth. "And if you say anything, believe me, Richard, you don't want me as an enemy."

Damian had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at the woman who was his grandmother, while Dick had to hold back from saying anything.

Nightwing was worse than Batman.

Dick tensed. Would this happen?

The few times he'd been in the cave with them, he'd taken away his support net when he was doing gymnastics, yelled at him to focus, and sometimes stopped him from doing his exercises.

"What? You...?"

"Dick

Bruce and Jason's words trailed off. Dick looked down and clenched his fists. He hadn't expected this to happen, for them to find out about this.

Dick stopped when Barbara Gordon gave him an ultimatum: either he stopped bullying him or she would settle the score with him herself. Tim appreciated the care. Barbara Gordon was the prototype of the older sister everyone loved. She was kind and caring. Sometimes, he heard her speak fondly of Jason, how much she missed him and how much Tim held him. But there were also nights when he heard her cry, and that hurt him. Bruce and Dick might not have liked him, but Barbara did, and as long as she did, and Mr. Pennyworth cried in privacy, he would stay at the manor.

"They let a child look after them?" Severus asked suddenly, his dark eyes as cold as his words. "A child looked after the adults?"

Well, James was proving everyone else right.

"My cousin... she... she was a little girl... a baby..." Terence gasped.

"Calm down, breathe. When we have her in front of us, hold her and don't let go," Adrian whispered, taking his best friend's hand and looking around.

Months passed like this, until she was kidnapped by the Joker.

"What?" Jason whispered, frightened, his body filling with unimaginable terror.

"Oh God!"

"Was she at the mercy of that lunatic?"

"Poor Miss Drake."

Batman didn't get to where she was; it was three months of pain and agony.

Jason was going to hit Bruce, he would let the pit take over. And Bruce would let it hit him.

His only solace was Harley Quinn. The clown and accomplice in crime had been kidnapped by her longtime partner; But if Joker Junior or JJ wanted to keep Mom safe, he had to do everything his dad asked.

Alfred's eyes filled with tears. What had happened to his young lady? Bruce, beside him, felt like someone was squeezing his heart; he could almost hear Jack Drake's voice whispering hateful words.

He never killed anyone. Joker seemed to have some kind of conscience, muttering that he'd let him kill people when he was fifteen.

"He wanted to make her a murderer," Madame Sprout whispered in fear, stunned by what she was reading.

But one day, the Joker took aim where he shouldn't have. Barbara Gordon and Batgirl had fallen, her spinal cord destroyed, leaving her paraplegic, and Tim couldn't stop himself. I don't doubt it, he had saved Harley, the woman who had cared for him, the one who took the time to appreciate him and realize she was a child, the one who kept the Joker's henchmen from being alone with her, and went out to find the clown. She found him, mocking him for having a Robin in his power and for having killed the commissioner's daughter, she heard him laughing at Jason, the one who kept her safe, protected when he went out at night in Gotham and something broke. Tim, I don't remember much later, woke up in Harley's arms, Poison Ivy had prepared an ointment for her, they had cleaned her wounds and removed that horrible green color from her hair.

"Bruce, didn't the news get out that something impaled the Joker?" Dick asked, his voice cracking.

Bruce's eyes widened. His daughter had done that? His princess?

"Timmy, she faced that monster alone," Martha said fearfully.

Jason, Jason could only try to breathe calmly, with all the calm he could muster, even though he felt the pit whispering in his ear. The hatred he felt wasn't directed at the girl, no, it was directed at the clown and those who left her alone.

But something good came out of that. His dad came home!

Molly had to hold her woven bag tighter. She felt like crying imagining the little girl, alone and scared, excited because her dad was home.

Her dad arrived when they were at the ivy sanctuary. He looked scared, his eyes, those brown eyes that so reassured her, scanning her body, searching for any injuries.

"Daughter, I came as quickly as I could," he said, his voice sounding scared, clearly worried. "Your necklace told me something wasn't right. You broke it, and it sent me an alert.

Her necklace? An alert? She didn't know what her dad meant, but she let him hold her. She loved having her dad there to take care of her.

The following days she spent recovering. Her mother had closed the deals she needed to make and returned to Gotham as quickly as she could. Her father never left her side and offered Harley and Pamela Isley a place to stay at Drake Mansion, and they did.

Bruce opened his eyes in unimaginable surprise.

Having them there with her was exciting, but not only that, he had heard her father talk about someone named Terence, and he was excited to introduce him.

Terence smiled at the thought that her cousin might know about him.

She didn't know who he was, but somehow she loved him; something inside her moved with graceful anticipation of meeting the boy.

She was Robin again in no time. Returning to the streets, to the rooftops, following Batman was liberating, something she somehow liked, she liked. Spreading her wings again had been gratifying, but at the same time, there was something calling her; the horizon was calling, she felt it, but whose?

Time passed, and with that, Batman learned of her true gender. It had been during training, when she'd been injured and Bruce had tended to her, seeing her bandages and girdle, questioning what was happening and why she'd hidden it from him. She couldn't hide anything from him; she cried and confessed everything. She'd thought they'd take away her suit, that they wouldn't let her be Robin anymore, but they didn't. Bruce hugged her and apologized. From that day on, Bruce wouldn't let her leave his side. He always kept her in his sight. He'd even put a shiny ducky on her belt! And it was so cute!

"So that's where the duck came from," Dick said, remembering the duck Damian broke in front of Tim. That duck was important to her, and he'd let Damian break it. The guilt grew.

She liked her ducky; it sparkled, and Commissioner Gordon said it was perfect for keeping an eye on, but unfortunately, it was also a focal point for renegades and rebels.

Bruce worried. Did he paint a target on his daughter's back with that ducky?

Surprisingly, it only earned her praise and cooing from the villains. The Riddler, who had been annoying her days before, confessed amidst her chatter that no one had remembered her birthday, and she had baked her cookies and taken her to Arkham, which now warranted the villain in the green suit with question marks watching over her whenever they met. He didn't want to know what he would do if he knew she was a girl and not a boy!

"Is the little bird protected by the Riddler?" Dick asked in surprise.

"Not just by him," Jasmine assured.

Tim had noticed that many had the same rule. Don't touch him, don't fight him, and if he was in danger or something went wrong during the "battle," surrender to Batman.

"What?!"
"Is that why they never attack him?"
"How unfair!"
"We only need Babybird to lock them up? If only we'd known!"

Alfred hummed. He couldn't blame the rebels or the renegades. He'd seen the oracle recordings; it was clear they only fought her so they wouldn't make her feel bad.

Bane, who used to want to break Batman's back, treated her gently. He even picked her up once and gave her a lollipop!

Well, they were getting offended!

The penguin let her chase her accomplices, and when she managed to catch them all, he gave her little chocolates that ended up in Bullock's bowl. Killer Croc liked to play tag with her, and Mr. Freeze made it snow for her. She was so fun!

Soon, one day, Bruce appeared in the cave. He looked like he'd aged a few years, but he also seemed tired.

"B?" he asked softly. That day, his father had let him go to Wayne Manor, believing he was doing an internship. "What's wrong?"

"Red Hood is hunting your head," he replied.

Bruce and Jason looked at each other. Was this the time? God, they were scared.

"Hood?" she asked, surprised. He was wearing one of his father's shirts and shorts. "What does he want from me?"

"I don't know, but I'll send you to Titans Tower," Bruce assured him, handing him a red backpack with an embroidered Batman logo. "Pack what you need."

Tim hesitated, hesitated for a moment, and looked at Bruce.

"Is something wrong?"

"I... yes... Bruce, my period is about to come and I..." His voice was filled with enormous doubt.

Bruce opened his eyes gracefully, looking nervous.

"Were you scared?" Arthur asked, looking at Wayne.

"Quite a bit. It was the first time and..." he didn't know how to say it, but it wasn't necessary; his parents and older siblings understood completely.

"I see. We can have Alfred prepare some food for you. What do you think, Ducky?" he asked, calling her by that affectionate nickname he'd given her.

Terence was thinking about giving his cousin and his... nephew a duckling.

"Can we add pancakes?" he asked excitedly, taking his backpack with a smile.

"Sure, let's go."

Sheltered in Bruce's arms, Tim allowed herself to be led into the kitchen, where Alfred was waiting for them.

Arriving at Titans Tower was satisfying. Conner, or Kon-el as she affectionately called him, lifted her into the air, telling her how excited he was to have her there. Bart was by her side, telling her they had a huge amount of food in the cupboard, and Cassie told him she had blankets and pillows for her, telling him it was to keep her comfortable. They were the only ones who knew she was a woman.

"They knew before we did?!" Dick exclaimed, surprised and annoyed. "Bruce..."

"I didn't know," the older man assured her.

They assured her they would return to the tower after their mission, that they would wait for her to eat snacks and watch movies, and she agreed. She was only fourteen, but she loved being around them. They were nice!

"I'll try to solve this soon, Ducky," Bruce assured her, kissing her on the head. They were almost like her daddy's kisses!

Bruce wanted to hit someone. It was his ducky!

She was in the tower for two days, her pains getting worse. Her mother had told her these would be the signs of her upcoming period. She was sitting at her desk, looking over her cases and letters from her parents.

Tim takes a sip of coffee; the warmth seems to soothe her tense shoulders and the cramping in her stomach. The data on the Red Hood was interesting, cruel, and bloody, but he believed the Hood wasn't a bad person. He believed his strategy for reducing crime was effective, causing crime to decrease considerably.

Jason was shocked. Did Tim think he was doing the right thing? He couldn't believe it!

As he studied what he had managed to glean from the Hood, he felt something in his heart flutter. A genuine smile graced Tim's lips, a soft smile, like that of someone remembering what they held most dear. He got up from his desk and walked over to the sofa they had managed to sneak into the tower. As he sank into the comfortable sofa, a feeling of tranquility washed over him; his body language reflected the genuine connection he felt with the Red Hood.

"She reminds me of Jason," he said softly, his blue eyes shining with emotion.

And soon, the lights went out.

Jason hugged Harry's small body closer. It was now, it was the time, and he didn't want to relive it. The entire great hall fell silent; no one knew what to say. They felt an enormous tension they didn't know how to break.

Tim's instincts were unleashed. His muscles had tensed, and the pain in his stomach was ignored. He grabbed his bo. His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere at once, but it was the chilling sound of a mechanical voice that broke the silence.

"Come out, come out of wherever you are, little bird," that mocking voice sent a chill down Tim's spine.

A massive figure emerges from the shadows, wearing a menacing red helmet and armed with an arsenal. Tim's recognition of the intruder is evident as he narrows his eyes, though his expression remains steadfast, betraying none of the unease he feels inside.

"Red Hood? I was talking about you," Tim says, his voice firm, masking the fear that was taking hold of her.

Fear? Oh god, Jason felt he might become erratic.

"Did Bat-Daddy think he could hide you from me, Bird Boy? Think again."

The ensuing battle is a flurry of movement, captured in rapid succession on camera. Tim and Red Hood trade blows with lethal precision; the intensity of their confrontation is evident in the chaos that ensues. Furniture falls, glass shatters, and the room becomes a battlefield as they go all out.

Tim had to buy time, she knew it, but it was a blow to her stomach that staggered her. She could feel her period coming, she could feel the pain getting worse, the same pain that wasn't the last blow she received.

Many of the young witches present covered their mouths, some had tears in their eyes. They couldn't imagine the girl's pain, they couldn't.

During the battle, she felt a knife cut her, right in her neck, the blood flow out, gentle streams that would have been cause for fear and dread, but that didn't matter to her now.

She kept fighting.

Punch, kick, her bo staff never fell, and as she listened to Hood speak and belittle Bruce, she knew, she understood who he was.

"Jason?" she asked softly, stunned, unable to believe it. "How...?"

"They were right when they said you were smart," he said mockingly.

"Was it you?" Ginny asked, dazed, from her brother Charlie's arms, her brown eyes holding small tears. "You hurt her... you..."

Charlie could only hold her tighter, and Jason couldn't look at anyone, not when he was reading the life story of his little bird.

The hoof had thundered. Seeing the face of his crush was something Tim didn't wish on anyone. Seeing that face that had brightened his days now held a look of hatred, and it hurt. Still, he remained silent, staring at Jason, and he felt an enormous longing. He wanted him to come closer. He didn't know if he'd noticed the weight of his gaze, but he saw him retreat, and it hurt.

Jason had noticed her gaze, though the intensity of it had made him stumble.

"Okay, replacement," Jason replied, his voice strained. "If you're so eager to meet your end, I'll grant your wish."

He raises his gun and points it at Tim's head. But Tim remains impassive, simply tilting his head slightly to maintain eye contact with Jason, unfazed by the gun in his field of vision. Jason's discomfort is evident: his eyes flicker, and the intensity of the green fades slightly.

"Any last words, Tim Drake?" Jason's voice has a tinge of finality as his finger moves on the trigger.

Tim's smile softens, filled with genuine adoration and happiness as he looks at Jason.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Jay," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes shine with emotion, and even though blood stained his clothes, even though he could feel his pulse growing slower and more deliberate, he was happy to see him.

"Oh my God!" a Hufflepuff girl moaned, her eyes filling with tears. "They've got a gun pointed at him, and yet…" Still, she tells him she's glad to see him alive.

"You'd better make it up to Miss Drake!" someone exclaimed, looking at Jason.

But Jason could only look at Bruce, Martha, and Thomas. He wanted to tell them he was so sorry, that he didn't remember everything that happened in the tower; that he only remembered some things, but reading it—reading it—was so much crueler.

"I'm sorry…" Jason said suddenly, handing Harry over and standing up. "I'm sorry, I need to go… I need some air."

No one stopped him, no one could move. They all watched him leave the Great Hall, but no one tried to follow, for they were processing what Lady Drake had been through.

"I think we should stop for a moment," Albus said, looking back the way Jason had left.

He just hoped the young man was okay, because something whispered to him that this episode was going to get worse.

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