Bruce stowed the so-called "Ultimate Wand," saying nothing more.
Honestly, Kathoom's craftsmanship was pretty decent. For just a few minutes' effort, the wand did have a decent form.
Hermione watched this unfold, only growing more certain that Bruce's owl wasn't ordinary.
So incredibly perceptive! Knowing its master was upset about not finding a wand, it had brought him a branch to cheer him up.
She'd love an owl like that.
Still, beyond her fascination, Hermione was also growing increasingly concerned for Bruce.
If he couldn't find a wand…could he even attend school?
"It's alright, Hermione. I'll find one somewhere else," Bruce assured her, quickly coming up with an excuse. "Remember, the Wayne family roots are in the U.S. There's a good chance we've got some connection with the magical world there. I'll have a wand shipped over—don't worry, I'll have it by the time school starts."
Hermione gave him a dubious look, but she couldn't think of a better solution herself.
She couldn't help but feel disappointed with Ollivanders, though. A thousand-year-old establishment, but this was the best it could offer?
---
Bruce soon rejoined Mrs. Granger, and Hermione didn't tell the adults about his predicament, not wanting to worry them. If Bruce said he could handle it, they'd trust him for now.
After they bought school uniforms, it was time to head home.
Everything Bruce needed for Hogwarts was ready. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for term to start.
There were still six months to go.
The Grangers even arranged for Bruce to join Hermione at her primary school for the last half of the school year, hoping he'd benefit from being around peers his own age.
Growing up in an orphanage could lead to a reclusive nature, and Mrs. Granger genuinely believed he'd benefit from socializing.
It was a thoughtful gesture, but it was Hermione who'd pay the price.
To help Bruce blend in better, he was placed in Hermione's class.
In the weeks that followed, Hermione came to understand the meaning of "overachiever" in ways she hadn't anticipated.
Bruce was an evolved human being, a model of discipline. Not only did he possess photographic memory and learn material in a single pass, but he also had an effortless charisma that won everyone over.
But what impressed Hermione most was Bruce's unrelenting self-control.
He treated each day as a crucial mission, planning and managing every single hour, even every minute, to maximize his time.
Physical training, magical practice, mental exercises...
These grueling routines became Bruce's new daily life.
And if you asked him, he'd say even that intensity wasn't enough.
Hermione, for her part, was past the point of feeling any envy. All she felt was an insurmountable distance between them.
The Queen of Studying, Hermione Granger, had finally met her match—and he was someone far more driven than she'd ever imagined.
---
In Bruce's room, Kathoom stretched and lazily popped a piece of candy into his beak.
It was from the stash Mrs. Granger had prepared for Bruce, who never touched it, leaving Kathoom to finish it all.
"You know, you're going to break something if you keep this up," Kathoom remarked, eying Bruce. "You're only eleven—your body isn't fully developed yet. Pushing it this hard is a recipe for disaster."
Bruce didn't answer immediately, holding his plank position with only the sound of sweat dripping steadily onto the floor.
Finally, he replied, voice soft but resolute, "Barbatos's agents could come for me at any moment. I can't stop, Kathoom. Stopping is surrender, and I refuse to live with regrets."
Kathoom gave a resigned shake of his head. "Suit yourself."
Bruce had faced the trauma of his parents' deaths and Jason's ambush. He had confronted the possibility of death twice now, and he would not allow a third.
Deep down, Bruce's psyche was already marked by what would eventually become a fierce paranoia. Even when he became Batman, he was the kind of person who, within days of meeting Cyborg, had implanted a virus in his systems as a failsafe.
And not just Cyborg—all his Justice League allies would eventually have "protocols" dedicated to their defeat.
He even had plans in place to neutralize himself.
By the time villains figured this out, their best strategy became simply stealing Batman's files.
What sort of person could be so desperate for security?
Jason was still out there. More pursuers could arrive at any moment. Bruce had little choice but to live with this constant, gnawing anxiety.
"Stress is a great motivator, but if you keep piling this on, you're going to drive yourself crazy."
Kathoom's final warning was met with silence. Bruce's resolve was ironclad; he was nothing if not a determined fanatic.
Then again, Bruce's single-mindedness had some perks: Kathoom's physical strength was skyrocketing in turn.
Tenfold return, after all.
Frankly, thanks to Bruce's extreme discipline, Kathoom was now resilient enough to withstand gunfire.
Bruce, on the other hand, pressed on with his training, his mind racing. "Jason's getting stronger, too. He'll be back. Last time he hesitated—but I can't rely on that happening again."
Next time they met, Bruce would be ready to take him on directly.
---
Knockturn Alley.
A place reeking of dark magic and danger, cloaked in an unending sense of dread.
Jason Todd, twin pistols holstered at his sides, moved through the alley.
At his side was a hunched man in a threadbare wizard's robe, his hooked nose marred by an enormous wart.
The man was a Dark wizard of some kind—name unknown.
Jason, after his retreat from Bruce, had pieced together a theory.
Those bats hadn't been a Batman trick; they were clearly magic.
While this world appeared mundane on the surface, without any metahumans, there was no denying the existence of magic.
The only conclusion? The magical world existed, isolated from the ordinary one, and magic was its sole paranormal force.
Jason wasn't about to get caught off guard by magic again, so he began his own investigation.
Using the detective skills he'd learned from Batman, he tracked down this wizard beside him.
Apparently, the wizard had lost his magic for some reason and needed money to buy ingredients for a restorative potion.
Jason could pay that price.
In exchange, the wizard agreed to lead him into the magical underworld and maybe even give him a taste of its power.
The deal made, here they were.
"I figured Diagon Alley would be all prim and proper, but I didn't expect something this sinister lurking just beyond it."
Jason muttered as they walked deeper into Knockturn Alley.
A sickly man passed them by.
He didn't seem particularly old, but his face was lined with premature wrinkles, hair streaked with gray, and his robes patched and worn.
The Dark wizard sniffed disdainfully, recognizing the man at a glance.
"Remus Lupin," he sneered. "Disgusting werewolf."