Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [159]
She was too scared.
The thought of being alone made her feel as though someone might emerge from the shadows at any moment to kill her.
Bruce offered her a safer alternative.
"Kathoom has a little nest. It's cozy," he said. "You can sleep there. I'll stay nearby. Rest easy—you don't have to worry about a thing."
Hermione agreed to his suggestion.
Once she was settled in Kathoom's nest, fast asleep, Bruce lay on his own bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep.
"By tomorrow, Hogwarts will descend into chaos," he thought.
During the banquet, Bruce had tested the castle's boundaries several times at the stone bridge.
Every time he crossed it, he was immediately transported back into the castle.
The return was instantaneous and seamless—no sense of transition.
Hogwarts was completely sealed.
"Kathoom, since the outcome seems inevitable, I've decided to gamble," Bruce said, addressing the owl perched nearby. "The entire castle has turned into a locked-room murder mystery. I'm going to dive in, even if it ends in disaster—I need to see it through.
"Kathoom, you're confident you can reverse everything, right?"
"No," Kathoom suddenly replied.
Bruce froze, then bolted upright.
"Are you joking?" he demanded. "I've suspected everyone—even my own mother—but I never doubted you!
"You said everything could be fixed, and I didn't press you for details because you're the only one I trust completely. Now you're telling me you were lying?"
Kathoom shook his head, seemingly unfazed by Bruce's outburst.
"No, that's not what I meant. I'm not someone to lie—I'm an owl."
"You're splitting hairs now?" Bruce felt a surge of frustration, but something clicked in his mind.
Splitting hairs?
"What did you mean by 'no' earlier?" he asked cautiously.
"Hogwarts isn't a locked-room murder mystery," Kathoom explained matter-of-factly. "A locked-room mystery involves a scenario where the victim's death seems impossible, with all evidence pointing to an enclosed space where no one else could have entered or left. Think Edgar Allan Poe's The Murders in the Rue Morgue.
"What we're experiencing now is more akin to the 'snowbound mansion' trope—also known as the 'isolated island' mystery. The classic example would be Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None."
Bruce was left speechless.
He flopped back onto the bed and muttered, "And Then There Were None. Fitting."
If the situation continued as it was, and he couldn't find a solution, Hogwarts would indeed face that grim conclusion.
"I thought the culprits would be obvious," Bruce said, his voice heavy. "I didn't anticipate that the kids wouldn't be able to bring themselves to vote.
"With Snape around, there should've been some guidance. But who could have predicted…"
Snape's baffling experience gnawed at Bruce's mind.
Wandering an empty castle for hundreds of years?
The notion defied all logic.
"Kathoom, do you have any leads?" Bruce asked.
"None. But does it matter?"
Kathoom extended a wing, revealing the gleaming pendant of a Time-Turner.
"We've already decided to explore a bad ending to gather more clues, haven't we?"
"So that's your plan?" Bruce chuckled. "I knew you weren't being entirely truthful before!"
Kathoom had repeatedly warned him against tampering with time, claiming that altering the past could never create a desired future.
Yet here he was, openly contradicting himself.
"Have you figured something out?" Bruce asked. "Because I'd rather not turn this into some Flashpoint nightmare."
"I've always known how to truly return to the past—I just didn't tell you," Kathoom said with a sly grin. "After all, I'm Kathoom the Great! I squeeze—uh, I mean, maximize the value of everything in my possession.
"Only when something belongs to me does it truly reach its full potential!"
Bruce nodded.
"Fine. I'll trust your nonsense—for now."
Finally, he allowed his eyes to close, feeling a sense of calm for the first time in days.
But just as he drifted off, Kathoom pecked him lightly on the cheek.
"Don't sleep yet," the owl said. "Do you know who killed Harry?"
"Not completely sure," Bruce murmured without opening his eyes. "That's why I'm asking tomorrow."
And with that, he succumbed to sleep.
The past few days had been nothing but relentless worry.
---
The next morning, as Bruce had anticipated, Hogwarts was gripped by chaos.
The first shock came with the disappearance of Headmaster Dumbledore.
Without warning, the legendary wizard had vanished from his office, leaving no trace.
The second, even more chilling revelation: the entire castle was sealed.
No one could leave.
Any attempt to step beyond Hogwarts's borders resulted in an instantaneous teleportation back inside.
Professor McGonagall, now acting head, took charge of the situation. She gathered the staff to discuss their options, her expression grave.
"Can Apparition get us out?" McGonagall asked Professor Flitwick.
"It's strange," Flitwick replied, his brow furrowed. "The spell works—you can feel the tug of Apparition. But when you reappear, you're still inside the castle."
"What about Floo Powder?" McGonagall turned to Professor Sprout.
"The same result," Sprout said dejectedly. "You feel the entire process of Floo travel, but you end up in one of Hogwarts's fireplaces."
"So, we're completely trapped," McGonagall concluded.
Turning to the house-elves who managed the kitchen, she asked, "How long will our food supplies last?"
"About ten days," one replied. "We were lucky to stock up yesterday.
"If everyone conserves, we might stretch it to a month."
"Then conserve we shall!" McGonagall said decisively.
Her gaze hardened as she continued, "Not just food. If it comes to it, we'll eat herbs and potions. And if those run out, there are fish in the Black Lake and creatures in the Forbidden Forest—"
She paused, glancing at Professor Newt Scamander.
Newt's face was a picture of anguish.
But he didn't argue.
The children's survival was at stake. Even a staunch defender of magical creatures couldn't oppose desperate measures.
"At least don't let me see it happen," Newt muttered, his voice filled with pain. "Just… don't let me see it."
McGonagall nodded solemnly, sharing his sentiment but knowing there was no alternative.
"Where's Professor Gael Greene?" she suddenly asked, scanning the room.
---
Bruce strode purposefully through Hogwarts's corridors, passing groups of anxious students.
Their hushed whispers and uneasy expressions revealed that everyone knew something was terribly wrong.
But Bruce ignored the commotion, heading straight for the Hufflepuff common room.
In the upper-class lounge area, a handsome young man reclined on a sofa, deep in thought.
"Cedric!" Bruce called out.
Cedric jumped, startled, but relaxed when he saw Bruce.
"Oh, it's you," Cedric said, sitting up. "What do you need?"
Bruce sat beside him uninvited, leaning in to lower his voice.
"I know everything," he said.
"Yeah, so do I," Cedric replied distractedly. "The castle's sealed. We're all trapped."
"I'm not talking about that," Bruce said sharply, locking eyes with Cedric. "I mean the War God's Banquet."
Cedric's expression changed instantly.
He stared at Bruce, his disbelief evident.
"You know? Then why are you still here? I mean, how are you still here?"
If even Dumbledore had disappeared, how was Bruce still unfazed?
"I'm special. Don't worry about it," Bruce replied, brushing the question aside.
"Cedric, the banquet is more dangerous than ever now, isn't it?"
"…Yes," Cedric admitted reluctantly. "Very dangerous."
Though curious about Bruce's immunity, Cedric decided to follow his lead for now.
"The good guys won't vote, which leaves us at the mercy of the bad guys. But if we do vote, we'll be accused of being bad ourselves. At this rate, we're doomed."
"Is that so?"
Bruce's eyes flashed with an intensity that made Cedric pause.
"So, Cedric, you're convinced the bad guys will kill us all?"
"Wouldn't you be?" Cedric countered, meeting Bruce's gaze. "Harry's dead!"
"That's not what I meant," Bruce said calmly. "I'm here to help you, Cedric. I wanted to discuss the enemy team."
Cedric eyed him warily.
"There are three bad guys, right?" Bruce continued. "I've been wondering—when they decide who to target, how do they agree?
"They must have a leader, don't you think?"
Bruce's penetrating stare bore into Cedric.
"At least one of them must lead the others."
---
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