Chapter Text
Jason didn't think much of it when his thin jacket miraculously kept the winter frost at bay, or when his scraped knees stitched themselves together a little faster than medical science allowed. He just assumed everyone in Gotham could do things like that.
With the amount of toxic waste regularly dumped in the harbor, the glowing green smog that settled over the Narrows, and the undeniable, unlivable radioactivity of Crime Alley, a little bit of passive mutation felt like a given. If breathing the city's air didn't give you at least minor healing, a tiny heat boost to survive the winters, or the extra burst of speed needed to outrun sketchy people in dark alleys, what was even the point of surviving this radioactive hellscape? He figured everyone could use a little magic just to get by. It was mundane. Normal.
It wasn't until he became Robin that he realized that, no this wasn’t normal. The rude wake-up call came in the form of a trench-coated, chain-smoking British man named John Constantine, whom Batman was currently in the process of forcibly booting out of Gotham city limits. Hearing Bruce vehemently growl about how much he despised magic, occultists, and everything they touched was all the motivation Jason needed to shove his own abilities deep into the closet and lock the door.
He was just a regular kid. Absolutely nothing to see here.
At least, until a rainy Tuesday afternoon in the deepest, most neglected wing of the Wayne Manor library.
Jason had been looking for a something interesting to get rid of his boredom when his fingers brushed against a loose brick in the shelving. The panel gave off a weird energy and gave way with a soft click, revealing a hollow space containing a single, small leather-bound book. Of course it was leather.
He pulled it out, blowing the dust off the cover. The title was etched in a swirling, angular language he didn't recognize. But as he ran his thumb over the spine and cracked open the first page, the ink seemed to writhe and restructure itself into perfectly legible English.
Guide for Young Witches of Gotham
Jason raised an eyebrow, leaning against the dusty bookcase. "Wouldn't I be a wizard?" he mumbled to the empty room.
The ink on the page melted again, swirling in a dizzying pattern before settling back into the parchment.
Guide for Young Wizards of Gotham
Jason snapped the book shut on his finger, his expression flat. "…If anything in Harry Potter has taught me, it’s to 'Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.'"
He pulled his finger out, letting the heavy cover fall completely shut. When he looked down, the unrecognized language on the front had shifted into English, too.
The Wayne Grimoire
By Dorothea Wayne
"Oh, right. Sure," Jason scoffed, crossing his arms. "And how would I know you’re not lying to me right now?"
The book didn't hesitate. The cover flew open, pages rapidly flipping past chapters on blood wards, minor hexes, and potion brewing until it slammed to a halt.
Grimoires and How to Recognize One from a Common Cursed Book
By Darius Wayne
Jason leaned over the desk, squinting at the page. "Probably still lying. Though I don’t know why I’m still humoring you and haven’t tried to mail you to the Justice League Dark yet."
Flip. Flip. Flip.
How to Summon the closest Lie Detector in 5 Super Easy Steps
By Darleen Wayne
"Well," Jason muttered, grabbing a piece of chalk from a nearby blackboard. "That’s convenient."
It took exactly five minutes.
Step one: draw a circle. Step two: chant a phrase that sounded suspiciously like a botched Latin verb conjugation. Step three through five mostly involved intention and a spark of magic. Jason channeled that same familiar, warm energy he used during winters in the Alley, pushing it into the chalk lines.
There was a bright, blinding flash of golden light.
When Jason blinked the spots from his eyes, he was staring down at a glowing, coiled golden rope.
"What the fuck?" Jason stared at the Lasso of Truth resting innocently on the Persian rug. He looked from the divine artifact to the leather book. "How am I supposed to use that on you??!"
The book’s heavy leather covers fluttered upward slightly and dropped, mimicking the distinct motion of a shrug.
"Very funny," Jason deadpanned. He carefully nudged the glowing lasso with the toe of his sneaker. "How do I send this back?"
The covers fluttered in another silent shrug.
Jason stared at the ancient family grimoire with a look of disappointment. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟𓆟
Getting into the Watchtower was easy enough. He had zeta tube access, and as long as he kept his head down, no one really questioned why Robin was speed-walking down the metallic corridors with a heavily concealed duffel bag clutched to his chest.
He was two hallways away from the main meeting room when a gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Hey, Robin!" Barry Allen grinned, vibrating slightly as he came to a sudden halt. "Didn't expect to see you up here today. Everything okay?"
"Oh! Hey, Flash," Jason said, freezing in his tracks. He forced his heart rate to stay perfectly level. "Yeah, everything's great. I'm just here for a quick errand... and to get your autograph, actually."
Barry beamed. "Sure! Do you have something to write with?"
Jason patted his empty utility belt pouches in exaggerated dismay. "Oh no, I forgot. Maybe next time?" He tilted his head, unleashing the absolute most lethal puppy-dog eyes in his arsenal—the ones that even managed to break Alfred's resolve on cookie-baking days.
Barry melted instantly. "Absolutely, kid! We'll catch up next time. Tell Bats I said hi!"
With a blur of red and a rush of air, the speedster was gone.
Jason let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and bolted for the meeting room doors. He slipped inside, the massive round table gleaming under the station's lights. He made a beeline straight for Wonder Woman's designated chair, unzipped his duffel bag, and dumped the glowing lasso right onto the seat cushion.
Without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and speed-walked back to the zeta tubes as fast as he could.
Recognized: Robin. B-04.
Back in the library, Jason flopped into a leather armchair and glared at the grimoire sitting innocently on the desk. This was going to be a massive headache.