Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

Kathoom was spouting nonsense again.

Bruce was starting to get used to his owl's strange sense of humor. He'd learned that with Kathoom, not every word should be taken at face value.

And since Kathoom's recent return from Hogwarts, Bruce noticed a subtle change in him. He wasn't quite the simple owl he appeared to be anymore.

For instance, his wings now moved in remarkably nimble ways, almost as dexterous as human hands.

At that moment, Kathoom was rubbing his wing over Bruce's head, almost like petting a dog.

Bruce swatted his wing away and turned his attention back to Hermione, who had been answering his question.

"I read all about it in the books," Hermione explained earnestly. "Gryffindor values courage and justice, Hufflepuff values kindness and loyalty, Ravenclaw values knowledge and wisdom, and Slytherin values ambition and honor."

"All new students get sorted into one of these four Houses, but I'm not exactly sure how they decide…maybe it's an exam!" she guessed.

Bruce was intrigued. He began to wonder which House he might belong to.

But then—

"No, no, no!" Kathoom interjected beside Bruce's ear. "Actually, Hogwarts has a secret House called Azkaban. Only the truly brave and brilliant students get into that one, Bruce. Azkaban is the perfect fit for you."

"Really?"

Bruce froze, astonished. A hidden House at Hogwarts, meant for the most gifted students? This must be one of those rare insider secrets only someone like a demon lord would know.

"Trust me, Bruce—I can help you with this," Kathoom promised. "With my guidance, you'll be a shoo-in for Azkaban."

Well…

Bruce wasn't about to refuse. He'd come here to study, to gain the power to change Gotham. If Azkaban was the best House, then of course he wanted in.

"Alright, I'll count on you!"

"Leave it to me!" Kathoom fluffed up his feathers, giving a proud nod that said, You're in good hands.

Hermione stared in awe. She couldn't understand what Kathoom was saying, but there was something so human-like about his movements. She wondered where Bruce had even found this owl—and if he could maybe get her one, too.

---

Not long after, Mr. Granger finished up at Gringotts.

Mrs. Granger held the Hogwarts supply list in hand, ticking off items they'd need to buy. "Uniforms first, then books and potion supplies, and finally, your wand."

Suddenly, Hermione perked up with enthusiasm. "Mum, why don't you and Dad get the books and cauldron? I'll take Bruce to get his wand!"

She was dying to see what kind of wand would choose Bruce.

Bruce hesitated—he'd hoped to buy some advanced textbooks—but Kathoom interrupted his thoughts.

"No need to waste money there; the Hogwarts library has everything we need."

In the wizarding world, the truly valuable knowledge wouldn't be found on bookstore shelves.

For Bruce and Kathoom, their real obstacle wasn't power—both had abundant magic coursing through them. What they needed were efficient spells to channel that power.

With that in mind, the Hogwarts Restricted Section would be a treasure trove.

Mrs. Granger agreed to let Hermione take Bruce wand shopping, and she led him to a cramped, slightly run-down shop. The gold letters on the faded sign read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The shop was tiny, almost bare, except for a towering wall of narrow boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling and a single wooden stool by the counter.

"Wands choose their wizards," Hermione whispered excitedly. "Somewhere in here, there's a wand waiting just for you."

I don't need a wand, Bruce thought.

He'd already proven he could cast spells without one, so what was the point?

"Well, well, Miss Hermione Granger!" A thin, elderly man appeared from behind the counter. "Vine wood, fourteen and three-quarter inches, with dragon heartstring. A fine wand—how's it treating you?"

"It's perfect, Mr. Ollivander." Hermione's tone was as polite as ever.

She quickly introduced Bruce as her cousin, explaining that he also needed a wand.

"Another promising young wizard." Ollivander gave Bruce a discerning look before pulling a long silver ruler from his coat pocket. "Which hand do you hold your wand in?"

"I'm right-handed," Bruce replied.

"Very well, then." As if by magic, the ruler took to the air and began measuring Bruce's arm length, while Ollivander moved to the shelves, pulling down a series of narrow boxes.

"Try this one." He handed Bruce a wand. "Sycamore wood, eleven and a half inches, unicorn hair."

The moment Bruce took hold of it, Ollivander's hair shot up like he'd been electrocuted.

"No, no, definitely not!" Ollivander snatched the wand back, quickly substituting it with another.

"Try this: hawthorn, nine inches, with a phoenix feather."

But as soon as Bruce gave it a wave, Ollivander was thrown back by an invisible force, flying across the shop.

"N-no, not that one either! Here, try this!" Ollivander climbed back to his feet and handed Bruce yet another wand. "Ebony, dragon heartstring, eight and three-quarters inches—this one has to be it."

Bruce tried again.

This time, Ollivander was yanked up by his ankles, suspended midair, flailing his arms helplessly.

It only stopped when Bruce set down the wand, and Ollivander collapsed with a loud thud.

This pattern continued as each wand Bruce tested somehow seemed to retaliate against its maker.

Bruce was starting to feel bad for the man.

Hermione's mouth hung open in shock, utterly frozen as she watched the scene.

"I—I understand now…" Ollivander finally gasped as he hauled himself off the floor, looking utterly defeated.

"I'm afraid my skills just aren't enough." His entire body quivered as if he'd been trampled by a herd of elephants.

"All of my wands are unsuitable for you. Perhaps you could try another maker—say, Gregorovitch in Europe?"

"Mr. Ollivander…"

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but then Ollivander slipped seven Galleons into his hand.

"Please," he almost begged, "use this to buy your wand somewhere else."

When they finally left Ollivander's, both Bruce and Hermione looked bewildered.

"This can't be possible!" Hermione's worldview had clearly taken a hit.

"It's alright," Bruce reassured her. "Honestly, I don't need a wand…"

"No, you do."

From Bruce's shoulder, Kathoom cut in, "Non-wand-casting first-years attract attention, and a wand could be useful for cover."

Bruce sighed. "But you saw what happened—none of them worked for me."

"That's Ollivander's lack of skill, not your problem! Let me handle this."

Kathoom flew off, returning shortly after with a short stick in his beak.

He dropped it in front of Bruce, announcing proudly, "Try this—crafted by none other than the Demon Lord Kathoom. The ultimate wand!"

Ultimate wand?

Bruce inspected the "wand," noticing the bits of wood shavings still clinging to it.

"This…this is just an ordinary stick, right? And it's freshly cut, isn't it?"

"It's an ultimate wand!" Kathoom insisted. "London plane tree, fourteen inches, and imbued with the Demon Lord's essence."

Fourteen inches. It was more of a bludgeon than a wand.

Bruce was speechless.

A London plane tree? They were practically on every street corner. Following that logic, he could snap a branch off any random tree and call it an "ultimate wand."

But what really got him was Kathoom's so-called "wand core."

"The 'Demon Lord's essence,' huh? And you couldn't even spare a single feather?"

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T/N: yes bruce AZKABAN is where the greats are, and this might be the first time I see someone not get a wand from Ollivander!