Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

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A-Train was far too naive.

Armed with nothing more than a flimsy piece of intel, he ran headfirst into the carefully crafted trap Bruce had laid for him.

This was no different than challenging Batman to a fight on his home turf.

And yet, ever the optimist, Bruce had given A-Train a chance.

To let others go was also to let himself go.

But he underestimated the weight of the burdens driving A-Train.

The expectant gaze of Homelander seemed to loom constantly behind him, an unrelenting whip spurring A-Train forward.

He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.

At that moment, A-Train seemed almost like his ancestors, running tirelessly across the land of the free.

"Has he lost his mind?"

Bruce frowned, noticing that A-Train's speed seemed to increase yet again.

The illusion Bruce had crafted was intentionally crude—only his own likeness was detailed.

The surrounding environment was hastily constructed and riddled with inconsistencies, easily detectable with a closer look.

But A-Train, blinded by his obsession with catching Bruce, was too fast to notice.

To him, Bruce was the only thing in focus.

He didn't realize the deception. Perhaps he never would.

Could catching me really mean this much to him?

But the breakneck pace couldn't last forever. Suddenly, A-Train's speed faltered, and his movements slowed.

Clutching his chest, he gasped for air, stumbling forward a few more steps before collapsing onto the ground.

"Hah… hah…"

His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling as though his very soul had been drained.

This should do it.

Bruce prepared to leap down from the rooftop, ready to confront A-Train directly.

In truth, he hadn't laid a hand on the speedster. All he'd done was dangle an intangible lure just out of reach.

A-Train could have stopped at any time but chose to push himself to the brink of exhaustion.

His current state was entirely self-inflicted.

But just as Bruce moved to intervene—

Something unexpected happened.

From the shadows, a figure emerged without warning.

The person raised a knife high and plunged it into A-Train's chest.

"AAAAAHHH!!!"

A-Train let out a gut-wrenching scream.

The assailant, unsatisfied, raised the knife again, preparing to strike once more.

It's him!

Bruce's eyes widened in recognition.

The man standing over A-Train was there during the hit-and-run—clutching a pair of severed hands.

Robin's boyfriend. Hughie.

"Expelliarmus!"

Bruce didn't hesitate, casting a Disarming Charm.

How did Hughie get here? And why hadn't Bruce noticed him until now?

Even Hughie couldn't answer that question.

The knife seemed to guide him, pulling him effortlessly to his target.

It even cloaked him, keeping him hidden until the moment of attack.

The spell hit the knife in Hughie's hand, but to Bruce's shock, it didn't dislodge.

Instead, the blade glowed with a ripple of energy, absorbing the magic entirely.

Hughie drove the knife down again.

"AAAAHHH!!!"

Another scream tore from A-Train's throat as the blade struck him once more.

"Stop this!"

Bruce jumped down from the rooftop, his voice booming. "That's enough!"

It was clear to Bruce that Hughie wasn't a killer. His trembling hand and imprecise strikes showed that he hadn't targeted vital areas.

A-Train's screams were agonized but far from fatal.

"You're Hughie, right? Stop now! Don't go any further!"

Bruce pleaded, his tone urgent. "Whatever you do, don't stab the left side of his chest—his heart's there. That would kill him for real!"

What?

A-Train abruptly stopped screaming, his terrified gaze snapping to Bruce.

Hughie, however, twisted his lips into a cruel smile. He had heard Bruce loud and clear.

With deliberate precision, he drove the knife into the exact spot Bruce had pointed out.

"Ah, well," Bruce sighed. "I told you not to."

Raising his wand, Bruce muttered another spell.

"Depulso!"

The Blasting Curse struck Hughie, flinging him off A-Train and slamming him against a wall.

Hughie slid to the ground but managed to stagger back to his feet, his eyes burning with madness as they locked onto Bruce.

"I remember you! You were there!" Hughie shouted, his voice laced with venom. "You're with him, aren't you? Here to stop me too?"

Even A-Train's eyes filled with a glimmer of hope.

After all the time Bruce had spent evading him, he was now standing up for him.

Repaying evil with good—what a saint!

At that moment, A-Train made a decision. If he survived, he would take Bruce's inheritance but spare the boy's life.

He'd hand Bruce over to Homelander instead.

But Bruce's next words shattered that illusion.

"Save him? You're mistaken."

Bruce raised his wand again, pointing it directly at A-Train.

This time, he uttered a spell not taught in any school. One he'd learned directly from Kathoom.

"Crucio."

One of the Unforgivable Curses—the Cruciatus Curse—activated instantly.

A-Train's pupils contracted as his body convulsed in pain.

"AAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

His scream was deafening as he writhed on the ground, his wounds bleeding onto the pavement.

Bruce had wrestled with the morality of Unforgivable Curses during his second year of training with Kathoom.

Could he use them? Should he use them?

The answer was clear. He could.

Were Unforgivable Curses inherently evil?

Not necessarily.

It depended on the person casting them and their intent.

When others used them, they were unquestionably dark magic.

But when Bruce used them, they became instruments of justice.

Among the three Unforgivable Curses, Bruce had no interest in the Killing Curse and found the Imperius Curse pointless.

The Cruciatus Curse, however? That was just his style.

My heart and actions are pure as a mirror, reflecting only righteousness.

A-Train now fully understood what it meant to wish for death. His body spasmed uncontrollably, lifted slightly off the ground as the curse tormented every fiber of his being.

"Kill me… please, just kill me…"

For him, death seemed the only release.

Even Hughie hesitated as he witnessed the scene, a flicker of fear piercing his crazed expression.

"I get it now," Hughie growled. "You're trying to steal my kill, aren't you?"

Gripping his knife tightly, he steeled himself. If Bruce got in his way again, he wouldn't hesitate to take him down too.

Bruce regarded Hughie quietly. He saw a once-decent young man, now twisted by rage and grief.

A-Train, you deserve to die a thousand times over.

But—

"I won't let you kill him," Bruce said firmly. "If you take a life, there's no turning back for you."

Is it more important to save a good man or destroy a bad one?

Bruce didn't know the answer yet.

But for now, he didn't have to choose.

At that moment, Kathoom swooped down to land beside Bruce.

"Remember this, little bat," the owl said. "You owe me one."

Then, with a flick of his wing, he declared:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The spell of death, Avada Kedavra, fired from Kathoom's wingtip, struck A-Train squarely.

His screams ceased immediately as his body hit the ground.

A-Train's pupils dilated, lifeless. He was dead.

Hughie staggered backward at the sight, his face etched with helplessness.

The fire of revenge that had consumed him suddenly faltered, replaced by emptiness.

"You've stolen even my chance to avenge her?"

Hughie mumbled, his voice hollow. "I had to kill him… for her…"

"For her?" Bruce frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

"Mother…"

Hughie whispered the word before his expression sharpened with realization.

Though A-Train was dead, robbing him of vengeance, another obstacle remained—Bruce.

If I kill him, it'll be the same.

Thanks to Kathoom's magically masked visage, Hughie remained oblivious to the owl. By sheer instinct, however, he chose the truest target in his frustration.

Rekindling his resolve, Hughie roared and charged Bruce with his knife.

"Stupefy!"

Bruce fired a Stunning Spell, aiming to incapacitate Hughie.

But this time, Hughie held his blade aloft. The spell hit the knife, dissipating harmlessly.

"What is that knife?"

Bruce's curiosity surged. A blade capable of nullifying magic? In the world of Harry Potter, such a weapon would be every wizard's nightmare.

Where had Hughie gotten it?

Bruce wasn't particularly worried about Hughie himself.

He wasn't limited to magic for self-defense.

As Hughie lunged with the knife, Bruce sidestepped smoothly, grabbing Hughie's arm and twisting it sharply. The pain forced Hughie to release the blade.

After all, Hughie was just an ordinary man—physically unfit and poorly trained. Even Bruce's rudimentary combat skills were more than enough to subdue him.

Bruce shoved Hughie to the ground, leaving him defenseless.

Separated from the blade, Hughie's bravado crumbled. His crazed expression softened into clarity.

Now, Bruce turned his attention to the strange weapon.

He knelt to retrieve it but froze as the blade moved of its own accord.

On the ground, the knife shimmered and began slithering toward its next host.

That host was the closest body—A-Train's lifeless corpse.

The blade transformed into a streak of light, disappearing into A-Train's chest.

The next second, A-Train's eyes snapped open.

"Ghh… ahh…"

A-Train gasped for breath, sitting upright with a look of bewilderment.

He touched his chest, his injuries fading and his strength returning as if he'd never been hurt.

Bruce hadn't anticipated any of this.

A-Train wasn't foolish. Confronted with a second chance at life, he chose survival over revenge.

The memory of that green flash—of Kathoom's killing spell—left a deep scar on his psyche.

Forget vengeance. Let's call it even.

A-Train cast a wary glance at Bruce before activating his super-speed and vanishing from the area.

Bruce turned to Kathoom, his disbelief evident.

"Kathoom, are you sure you used Avada Kedavra?"

"What else would it be?" the owl snapped. "Want me to test it on you?"

Bruce ignored the retort.

His curiosity had been piqued to the fullest.

He wasn't disheartened by A-Train's resurrection—it was merely a setback. He could defeat him again, as many times as necessary.

But the knife…

That was what truly captivated Bruce.

A-Train had been killed with the Killing Curse, a spell designed to obliterate not just the body but the soul, leaving no ghost or trace behind.

It was supposed to be unavoidable.

Not even the regenerative powers of Vought's infamous Compound V could counteract it.

Yet this blade had brought A-Train back to life right before Bruce's eyes.

If this knife could undo the most unforgivable curse of all, did that mean the curse wasn't as absolute as believed?

Kathoom was intrigued as well.

"So, if someone gets hit with Avada Kedavra, we just stab them with that thing, and they're back? Sounds like this knife's a free pass to immortality."

"A-Train, your revival is a gift to the world," Bruce thought, his mind racing. "You're living proof that magic's deadliest spell might have a weakness. This could save lives."

The knife's workings were still a mystery, but Bruce was determined to uncover them.

Finding A-Train again would have to wait. For now, he needed to address Hughie.

Bruce turned and crouched in front of the shaken man, who now seemed utterly lost without the knife.

Without it, Hughie was just another powerless human.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked.

"I-I…"

Hughie stammered, his words faltering.

Bruce had two key questions:

Where did the knife come from?

And who was the "mother" Hughie had mentioned?

But considering their recent fight, Bruce suspected Hughie still harbored hostility toward him.

Getting answers would require a gentler approach.

With a disarming smile, Bruce pressed the tip of his wand against Hughie's chest.

"Remember how I tortured A-Train just now?" Bruce asked, his voice calm but icy. "If you don't answer my questions honestly, I'll let you feel it for yourself."

Hughie froze, his face going pale.

Looking into the eyes of this thirteen-year-old boy, a single word came to mind:

Demon.

---

"Ah…"

After a productive interrogation, Bruce left the area, confident Hughie would find his own way out.

"That knife is that powerful?" Bruce mused aloud. "Hughie remembered everything else, but he conveniently forgot where the knife came from."

It was no coincidence.

Kathoom chimed in, his tone thoughtful. "That blade… I doubt it belongs to this world."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"It feels like something from the DC Universe," Kathoom said.

Bruce immediately understood. Barbatos' hunters have arrived.

And the "mother" Hughie spoke of… she must be one of them.

But who could it be?

Poison Ivy? Black Canary? Queen Maeve?

It couldn't be Perpetua, the Creator Mother herself, could it? Barbatos wouldn't stand a chance against her.

If it were Perpetua, Kathoom wouldn't hesitate to hand Bruce over and pledge loyalty to the great mother of creation.

"No matter who this 'mother' is, she's trouble," Bruce declared. "If she dares call herself a mother in front of me, I'll knock her teeth out!"

"Now you're talking!" Kathoom cheered. "That's the spirit—beat her senseless!"

"But we don't even know who she is yet," Bruce pointed out.

He paused, a plan forming.

"We'll need to track down that knife, which means finding A-Train again."

"We should tread carefully," Kathoom warned. "Based on its performance, that blade might be made of Nth metal or Bat-Metal. My guess is Nth metal."

Bruce nodded, considering the implications.

Nth metal, one of the five great metals, was shrouded in mystery and unmatched in power.

It defied the laws of science and magic, and its properties were unparalleled—even capable of holding divine power.

The Helmet of Fate, after all, was crafted from Nth metal, housing the essence of Nabu.

"If that knife really is Nth metal, your magic is useless against it," Kathoom cautioned. "One stab, and you're finished. I might not even be able to save you."

Bruce smirked. "Then we'll just have to neutralize it before it becomes a problem."

His thoughts turned back to the Seven.

They were still missing a member.

Bruce and Kathoom exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions mirroring their shared resolve.

They both turned to look at a massive billboard for the Seven.

On it, the team's formation prominently displayed six members.

One spot remained empty, a blank space waiting to be filled.

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This bonus chapter is like an encore after a rousing performance—totally worth staying for, wouldn't you say? Oh, and don't worry, my lyre's got plenty more tunes to play next time!

But for now, it's time to take a bow. Thank you for the applause (and all that wonderful support). If you're feeling extra inspired, you know where to find me—[patreon.com/WiseTL]. Toss a coin, and who knows? Maybe the next bard will sing your praises!

Now, go forth, Traveler, and revel in the wonders of this world. Until next time! 🍃✨

Oh, and this bard must be off for now—another breeze calls my name. See you soon, dear friend!