Chapter Text
He hummed, rifling through the newspaper. A ball-point pen lay beside him, the enchanted papers marked up by the red ink. At his elbow was a cup of coffee, the steam curling in the air and giving off a hint of vanilla.
He eyed the headlines, marveling at the moving photographs and the ever-changing captions of the black ink. He absently wondered if Zatanna or Raven or maybe even John Constantine knew of these spells and could implement them into his every-day life. Magic wasn’t as hush-hush as the Wizarding World tried to make it out to be. He didn't understand why they acted like it was some sort of blasphemy if non-magical people found out.
“Oh, a murderer is running around that Diagon Alley place,” Dick spoke aloud, turning from his desk. Damian sat hunched on the stone floor behind his chair, knees curled to his chest as he doodled in his sketchbook.
Too used to the nocturnal lifestyle, the two made a silent agreement to spend their sleepless nights in Dick’s classroom until the time to go down for breakfast. Dick usually took the time to read up on the Wizarding World or scour the resources to see how crime-fighting was dealt with. Damian opted to spend the quiet time drawing or writing poetry.
If Dick found a doodle or two depicting Damian viciously decapitating Tim and Jason, he just took the artwork and burned it without saying anything.
He was working on Damian’s vicious habits. He was. It just took a while to train him out of his ‘stab first, question after’ mentality.
“Lemme see,” Damian mumbled without looking up from his papers. He was surrounded by loose-leaf pages of penciled drawings, most of them Dick’s back or the various angles of the classroom. Dick leaned back in his chair, handing over the newspaper. Damian looked it over, eyebrows furrowing in disappointment. “Would we have access to get to this location?”
“I don’t think so. They seem pretty serious about the whole ‘no leaving campus’ thing,” Dick laughed out as he rested his chin in his palm, content to watch his small child look over the marked clues on the paper.
“TT.” Damian handed it back before studying his older brother, head tilting to the side for a moment. Without breaking eye contact, the child grabbed his pencil again and began to sketch out the man’s slacked pose. Getting the rough sketch, he ducked his head again.
“How are you liking this school?” Dick asked, breaking the soothing silence. Damian’s eyes shot up to him before turning back to his paper.
“It is acceptable,” Damian spoke after a moment. His pencil paused in the air. “I am... hoping that Father will be proud of me and my magical accomplishments.”
“Of course he’ll be proud,” Dick spoke at once. He turned fully in his seat, facing Damian. “He’s always proud of us, Dami. Hell - when Jason learned to drive, he nearly cried.”
Damian’s face twisted and he snorted. “Father wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s true. He got teary-eyed and everything.” Dick nodded sagely, smiling at the memory. “He’s always proud of us, no matter our faults. But this?” He gestured around them. “This is no fault. This is something amazing, Damian, and you should always be proud of who you are.”
Damian ducked his head again.
Dick leaned forward and ruffled his hair before turning back to his desk.
“Did Father cry when you learned to drive?”
“Oh, no. I ran the car through the DMV. Bruce almost had an aneurysm.”
The Tri-Wizard Tournament sounded like the fucking Hunger Games but Magic. Dick frowned as Dumbledore continued to explain the event and the participating schools. Thank God that it was only seventh years allowed - he couldn’t stomach the idea of children doing dangerous tasks.
From what he remembered from his readings, the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been discontinued because of the high death rate. Why would anyone sane think that endangering children was an exciting thing?
Again, Hunger Games but Magic.
The Professors looked reserved at the news. Dick mentally frowned - how could any adult be okay with children risking their lives? Bruce had been reluctant to even let Robin be a legit thing - he was more reluctant with each Robin that came through the Manor. He knew the risks, knew the dangers and was always remorseful for dragging children into his drama.
He made it be known, though. These people? They tried to glamorize death for the sake of personal entertainment. It was sickening.
He tuned out the Headmaster, looking down at his goblet. He needed to get into touch with Zatanna. The Wizarding World was backward in unfathomable ways. For one, technology. How could they not access technology? The excuse of magic and technology not getting along sounded like bullshit. Zatanna, more than once, made good use of her spells to affect the various gadgets everyone in their occupational circle used. It sounded more like a tactic to isolate the Witches and Wizards from “Muggles”.
Second thing - isolation. Why did they act like people knowing about magic would result in the end of the world? Sure the witch hunts happened way back when, but nowadays, aliens and Supervillains sure made the idea of magic just another norm.
That was another thing - did these people know about aliens? Supervillains? How the world had almost ended more times than anyone would probably be comfortable with thinking about? He’d read the books on Dark Wizards. Grindelwald, Voldemort… The books depicted them as dictators, bent on changing the world. The extermination of Muggles, making Magic-folk the superior race.
If these Dark Wizards even tried that, they’d be stopped in a heartbeat. There were protocols and plans put into place for these very scenarios, after all.
Dick was snapped out of his thoughts by the doors flinging open. Filch jobbed down the pathway to Dumbledore, clenching at his chest as he gasped for air. He had good form, Dick noted, watching how he kicked up his knees high. Too bad the man’s poor health resulted in him almost collapsing onto the Headmaster.
“Ah! Our guests have arrived! Everyone, I’d like you to give a warm welcome to our competing schools! The lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!”
Dick’s eyebrows went up as girls lad in blue filed into the hall, their forms properly and aligned in perfect sync. He whistled low. Casting a glance at Damian found him admiring the way they all moved without a single misstep.
The students burst into chatter at the entrance of the ladies, their magic bursting forth in the forms of birds and sparkles. It was cute. Dick rested his cheek against his propped hand, smirking as they showed off.
“And the Durmstrang Institute!” Following Dumbledore’s introduction, the heavy sound of stomping sounded. Students perked up and leaned over in their benches, gawking as boys clad in heavy snow coats marched their way into the Hall.
“What splendid entrances,” Moody grumbled from beside Snape. He’d traded spots with Minerva, no longer able to take sitting next to Dick. Fine then, be that way. Dick could coo about his siblings to people who actually cared.
“I agree! They’ve got some finesse.” Dick chuckled into his goblet, eyes crinkling up. He wondered what Zatanna or Raven would thing at this flashy magic. Zatanna would probably love it. Raven? She’d probably gag and regret ever seeing it.
Thinking of his friends, he frowned. He hoped everyone was doing okay back home.
“I hate this family!”
Tim flipped another page of his magazine, Stephanie looking up momentarily from his half-painted toes to watch as Jason crawled in through the Library window. Cass, hanging upside down off the loveseat across from the two, lifted her book to watch him.
“What happened this time?” Duke asked, sprawled out on the carpeted floor with a notebook in front of him.
“Bruce is being a dick, that’s what! If Dick was here-”
“He’d agree with Bruce,” Barbara cut in from her spot beside Tim, her wheelchair folded up beside the couch. “You know Dick.”
“Yeah but he’s gotten a bit more lenient since fathering that fucking gremlin!” Jason threw his helmet onto the table, scowling down at the red metal. “Joker got out again and of fucking course, Bruce decided not to tell me.”
“How’d you find out then?” Stephanie asked as she used her long nail to scrape at some polish she’d accidentally gotten on Tim’s toe.
“Harley gave me a heads up when I was doing my….uh… other stuff.” He looked pointedly away from the gathered children.
“Drug dealing,” all of them responded in unison. He scowled deeper.
“By the way, words on the street some British people have been asking around about Dick and Damian.”
Immediately the group perked up, expression varying.
Barbara, eyes hard, nodded. “Noted. I’ll keep an ear out. Thanks for the heads up.” Jason shrugged and plopped down on the ground beside Cass. He looked at her book before snorting.
Dick watched as students slipped their names into the Goblet of Fire. His heart was heavy as these children, barely even Tim’s and Stephanie’s ages bragged about the chance of fame. The idea of fame and glory was too much for these students to resist and Dick hated how easily they could be manipulated.
“Stop looking like a kicked puppy,” Damian spoke from beside the man. It was one of Dick’s rare moments of a break so he’d gone to the Hall to see the students put their names in. Damian huffed as he regarded the kids. “These weaklings would not last a minute with Grandfather. They act like they will be a walk in the park. Did they not hear the old man say it was deadly?”
“They still think they’re invincible,” Dick answered in a whisper, shoulders slumping. “They probably haven’t experienced a lot of hardships to be jaded like us, Damian.”
Damian sniffed, silent as a Durmstrang student put his name in.