Selina Kyle arrived at Wayne Manor three hours later with the sort of impeccable timing that suggested either supernatural intuition or very sophisticated surveillance equipment. She swept through the front door wearing designer jeans and a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, her dark hair pulled back in a casual style that somehow managed to look both effortless and perfectly calculated.
"I come bearing gifts," she announced, holding up several shopping bags from Gotham's most exclusive children's boutiques. "Clothes that actually fit properly, shoes that weren't designed for someone twice Harry's age, and what the sales associate assured me were 'age-appropriate recreational materials' for gifted children with discerning tastes."
Alfred appeared in the foyer with his characteristic perfect timing, taking her coat with the sort of dignified efficiency that made international diplomats feel honored to be visiting Wayne Manor. "Miss Kyle, welcome back. I believe you'll find the household has experienced some... interesting developments since your departure."
"Interesting how?" Selina asked, though her tone suggested she was prepared for anything from minor electrical fires to the discovery that Harry could levitate furniture through force of will alone.
"The sort that involve revelations about international magical conspiracies, famous wizard children who don't know they're famous, and the need for supernatural security measures that go considerably beyond conventional home protection systems," Alfred replied with the sort of diplomatic understatement that somehow made world-changing news sound like a minor scheduling inconvenience.
Selina paused in the middle of removing her gloves, her expression shifting from casual interest to sharp attention. "Giovanni found something significant?"
"Master Harry is not simply a magically gifted child who needs training and guidance," Alfred said with careful precision. "He is, according to Mr. Zatara, the most famous child in the entire magical world, possibly carrying a fragment of a dark wizard's soul, and currently being sought by various parties ranging from well-meaning rescue organizations to international terrorists with access to supernatural tracking methods."
"Well," Selina said after a moment of profound silence, "that certainly escalates the situation beyond what I was expecting when I brought him here last night."
From the direction of the conservatory came the sound of children's laughter mixed with what appeared to be Giovanni's patient voice explaining something about "proper visualization techniques for elemental manipulation." The laughter was bright and genuine and completely at odds with the conversation about magical warfare and international conspiracies being conducted in the foyer.
"He's making friends with Miss Zatanna," Alfred explained with fond warmth. "Apparently, magical children require very little time to establish social bonds when they discover they share similar experiences with unusual abilities and complicated family circumstances."
Selina followed Alfred toward the conservatory, where they found Harry and Zatanna sitting cross-legged on the marble floor while Giovanni demonstrated what appeared to be a small tornado made of golden light spinning lazily above his palm. Both children were watching with the sort of rapt attention usually reserved for particularly engaging television programs, though their focus was clearly on the educational content rather than pure entertainment value.
"The key," Giovanni was explaining in his rich, accented voice, "is understanding that magic responds to intention and emotion working together. You cannot simply think your way through a spell—you must feel what you want to happen, visualize it clearly, and then channel your magical energy through that combined focus."
Harry raised his hand with the sort of formal politeness that suggested expensive private education mixed with genuine curiosity. "But what about accidental magic? When things happen without intention or conscious visualization? How does that work within your theoretical framework?"
"Accidental magic occurs when emotion becomes so strong that it overwhelms conscious control," Giovanni replied with obvious approval for Harry's analytical approach. "Your subconscious mind provides the intention and visualization automatically, usually focused on self-protection or emotional expression. It's less efficient than conscious magic, but often more powerful because of the intense emotional energy involved."
Zatanna nodded sagely. "Like when I made all the flowers in Central Park bloom early because I was sad about winter lasting too long. I didn't mean to do it, but I was really, really wanting spring to come, and my magic just... did what I was feeling."
"Exactly," Giovanni confirmed. "Though I believe your mother was less than pleased about explaining to the Parks Department why every flowering tree in a six-block radius had suddenly decided to ignore seasonal biology."
"She was more worried about the ecological implications than the magical exposure," Zatanna said with the sort of casual acceptance that suggested discussions of magical environmental impact were routine in the Zatara household. "Papa had to spend three days reversing the spell and making sure all the early blossoms wouldn't die when the real spring weather arrived."
Harry listened to this exchange with fascination, clearly processing information about a world where magical accidents were treated as educational opportunities rather than evidence of fundamental deficiency. When he spoke, his voice carried the sort of careful hope that suggested he was testing whether this new understanding of his abilities would be consistent or if it might disappear when adults decided he was too much trouble.
"So when I made all the televisions in Little Whinging show nature documentaries," Harry said slowly, "I wasn't being deliberately disruptive or trying to cause problems for my relatives. I was just... expressing something I was feeling without knowing how to control it properly?"
"What were you feeling that day?" Giovanni asked gently, his voice carrying the sort of professional interest that came from years of helping magical children understand their abilities.
Harry was quiet for a moment, clearly considering the question with the sort of systematic analysis that belonged on someone decades older. "Lonely, I think," he said finally. "And frustrated. The Dursleys had locked me in my cupboard for three days because I'd accidentally made Aunt Petunia's soufflé collapse during a dinner party, and I could hear them watching television together in the sitting room. Laughing together, sharing something I wasn't allowed to be part of."
His voice grew smaller, more uncertain. "I suppose I wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere wild and beautiful and far away from people who thought I was a mistake. The nature documentaries were about places like that—forests and oceans and mountains where things could just exist without having to justify themselves to anyone."
"So your magic responded to that longing by bringing images of those places into your immediate environment," Giovanni said with quiet understanding. "It was trying to give you what you needed, even though it couldn't change your physical circumstances."
"That's actually quite sophisticated magic," Zatanna said with obvious respect. "I can barely manage simple levitation spells on purpose, and you were doing complex electronic manipulation across multiple devices without even knowing you were doing magic. That's really impressive."
Harry stared at her with the sort of amazement that suggested no one had ever described his magical accidents as impressive before. "You really think so? It's not just... destructive and inconvenient and expensive to fix?"
"It's powerful," Zatanna said with absolute conviction. "And creative. And it shows that your magic cares about you, which Papa says is the most important thing. Magic that comes from caring is always good magic, even when it's inconvenient for other people."
Selina, who had been observing this conversation from the doorway, chose that moment to make her presence known. "Sorry to interrupt the magical theory discussion," she said with the sort of warm amusement that suggested she was genuinely enjoying watching Harry discover his heritage, "but I thought you might want to see what passes for proper children's clothing in Gotham's more exclusive establishments."
Harry looked up from his cross-legged position on the floor, his face brightening with genuine pleasure at seeing Selina again. "Miss Kyle! You came back! I wasn't entirely certain you would, given the rather dramatic escalation in my personal circumstances since yesterday evening."
"Dramatic escalation?" Selina raised an eyebrow with the sort of amused interest that suggested she was prepared to be entertained by whatever Harry considered dramatically escalated circumstances.
"Well, let's see," Harry said with the sort of careful precision that suggested he was organizing information for maximum impact. "I've discovered that I'm not actually a freak, but rather a famous wizard whose parents were murdered by a magical terrorist. I'm carrying a piece of said terrorist's soul inside my head, which explains the uncomfortable dreams and occasional episodes of inexplicable rage. Various parties ranging from well-meaning do-gooders to actual terrorists are presumably looking for me as we speak."
He paused, considering. "Oh, and I've made my first real friend, learned that my electrical problems are actually quite impressive examples of sophisticated magic, and discovered that proper hot chocolate is even better than I imagined. So yes, I'd say it's been a rather eventful morning."
Selina looked between Harry and Giovanni with the sort of sharp attention that suggested she was processing tactical information and finding the implications concerning. "Soul fragment? Magical terrorists? Giovanni, please tell me you're working on solutions for these problems rather than just identifying them."
"Wards first, then Constantine for the soul fragment issue," Giovanni replied with the sort of calm efficiency that suggested he'd already developed a comprehensive action plan. "Bruce has given permission for full magical protections throughout the property, and I've made preliminary contact with the only person qualified to handle Harry's... unusual medical situation."
"Constantine," Selina said with obvious recognition. "I've heard that name before. Usually in the context of stories that end with property damage and expensive therapy for everyone involved."
"He's very good at what he does," Giovanni said diplomatically. "His bedside manner and general approach to human social interaction, however, leave considerable room for improvement."
Harry looked between the adults with obvious curiosity. "This Constantine person sounds like he's going to be quite an experience. Should I be concerned, or just prepared for unconventional professional behavior?"
"Both," Giovanni and Selina said simultaneously, then looked at each other with the sort of shared understanding that came from independent negative experiences with the same individual.
"Brilliant," Harry said cheerfully. "I look forward to meeting him. In the meantime, Miss Kyle, you mentioned age-appropriate recreational materials? Because I should probably mention that my experience with toys and games has been somewhat limited, and I'm not entirely certain what constitutes normal childhood entertainment."
Selina's expression grew thunderous for a moment—the sort of controlled fury that typically preceded very pointed conversations with people who had mistreated children—before she forced herself to smile with obvious effort.
"Then we'll just have to make sure you get a proper introduction to recreational activities designed for intelligent six-year-olds who appreciate quality craftsmanship," she said with determined cheerfulness. "Alfred, could you ask Bruce to meet us in the study? I think he'll want to hear Giovanni's assessment of the security situation before we proceed with ward establishment."
An hour later, Bruce found himself following Giovanni through passages and hidden doorways that most visitors to Wayne Manor would never suspect existed. The route to the Batcave required navigating a series of concealed entrances that had been designed with both functionality and security in mind, though Giovanni moved through them with the sort of casual confidence that suggested he'd encountered similar arrangements before.
"Impressive security architecture," Giovanni observed as they descended the final staircase toward the Cave's main chamber. "Though I have to say, the whole 'secret entrance behind the grandfather clock' thing is a bit theatrical, even by my professional standards."
"It was Alfred's idea," Bruce replied with the sort of diplomatic neutrality that suggested this was a conversation he'd had before. "Something about 'maintaining proper dramatic presentation standards' and 'ensuring that family secrets are revealed with appropriate ceremony.'"
The Batcave opened up before them like a cathedral of technology and determination, its soaring stone walls lined with equipment that represented the cutting edge of both conventional and unconventional crime-fighting technology. Computer systems that could hack into any database on the planet sat alongside workstations for analyzing evidence that defied conventional forensic techniques. Vehicles designed for urban warfare operations shared space with specialized equipment for dealing with threats that ranged from standard criminal activity to supernatural incursions.
Giovanni paused at the edge of the main platform, taking in the scope and sophistication of Bruce's operation with obvious professional appreciation. "This is... considerably more comprehensive than I was expecting. You're not just wealthy dilettante playing at vigilante justice, are you?"
"I'm a man who's dedicated his life to making sure no child experiences what I experienced," Bruce replied with quiet intensity. "Whatever resources that requires, whatever methods that demands, whatever personal cost that involves—it's worth it if it keeps families safe."
Giovanni nodded slowly, clearly reassessing his understanding of Bruce Wayne and finding his conclusions both impressive and concerning. "The magical community has heard rumors about Gotham's Batman, of course. A non-magical individual who somehow manages to deal with supernatural threats through preparation, technology, and what appears to be an extensive network of information sources and tactical capabilities."
"The supernatural threats are relatively recent additions to Gotham's criminal roster," Bruce said as he led Giovanni toward a section of the Cave that was specifically designed for storing specialized equipment. "Most of my career has focused on conventional organized crime, but the last few years have required... adaptation to emerging threat patterns."
Giovanni examined the Cave's layout with the sort of professional attention that came from years of establishing magical workspaces in unconventional locations. After several minutes of careful assessment, he nodded with satisfaction.
"This will work perfectly for ward anchor placement," he announced, approaching a section of natural stone wall that looked identical to Bruce's untrained eye to dozens of other sections of natural stone wall. "The bedrock here is old—pre-industrial, probably pre-colonial—and it's been undisturbed by modern construction. That makes it ideal for anchoring major protective magic."
He removed what appeared to be a crystal the size of a softball from his travel bag, though the object seemed to shift and change color as Bruce watched, cycling through shades that didn't quite exist in normal light. The crystal pulsed with its own internal radiance, casting shadows that moved independently of any logical light source.
"Wardstone," Giovanni explained as he began examining the stone wall with the sort of methodical attention that suggested he was looking for something specific. "It will draw magical energy from the atmospheric magic that exists everywhere on Earth, then channel that energy into a protective network keyed to Harry's magical signature and the signatures of everyone you consider family."
"How does it work?" Bruce asked with the sort of tactical interest that came from needing to understand any system that would be protecting his household.
"Think of it as a supernatural security system with very sophisticated friend-or-foe identification capabilities," Giovanni replied as he began tracing patterns on the stone wall with his fingers, leaving trails of golden light that seemed to sink into the rock itself. "The wards will recognize Harry, you, Alfred, anyone you've consciously accepted as family, and they'll extend that protection to cover your property and everyone inside it."
The patterns Giovanni was drawing grew more complex, forming interconnected geometric shapes that seemed to pulse with their own rhythm. As he worked, the Wardstone began to resonate, emitting a low harmonic tone that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than sound.
"The magic will make Wayne Manor difficult to locate using supernatural tracking methods," Giovanni continued, his voice taking on the focused tone of someone concentrating on precise technical work. "Scrying spells will slide off the property without getting a clear image. Magical communication devices won't be able to penetrate the ward barrier. Even physical approaches to the Manor will become subtly misdirected unless the person approaching has legitimate business here."
Bruce watched the installation process with fascination and growing approval. "What about emergency situations? If Harry needs to leave the property, or if someone needs to reach him urgently?"
"The wards are keyed to intention as well as identity," Giovanni explained as he placed the Wardstone against the wall and began what appeared to be a complex ritual involving precise hand movements and incantations in a language Bruce didn't recognize. "People approaching with genuine need to help or protect Harry will find their way here. People approaching with hostile intent will find themselves experiencing sudden urgent needs to be somewhere else entirely."
The Wardstone suddenly flared with brilliant light, then seemed to sink into the stone wall as if the rock had become liquid. For a moment, the entire Cave was filled with golden radiance that made every surface seem to glow from within. Then the light faded, leaving behind only a slight warm sensation in the air and the sense that something fundamental had changed about the nature of the space they occupied.
"Phase one complete," Giovanni announced with satisfaction. "The primary anchor is established and drawing power from the local magical field. Now I need to place secondary anchors at key points around the property perimeter, then link them all together into a coherent protective network."
"How long for the full installation?" Bruce asked as they prepared to return to the main house.
"Six hours for basic functionality, twelve for optimal effectiveness," Giovanni replied as they began climbing the stairs back toward the concealed entrance. "By tonight, Harry will be as safe from magical detection and attack as anyone can be without relocating to an entirely different dimensional plane."
"And then we contact Constantine?"
Giovanni's expression grew more serious as they reached the grandfather clock that concealed the Cave's entrance. "Then we contact Constantine, and hope he's feeling cooperative rather than combative when he learns about Harry's situation. Because dealing with soul fragment extraction is complicated enough without adding Constantine's personality issues to the mix."
As they emerged back into Wayne Manor's more conventional spaces, Bruce found himself thinking about the strange turns his life had taken over the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday, his biggest concern had been deciding whether to expand Wayne Enterprises' charity work into international development projects. Today, he was harboring the most famous child in the magical world while preparing to have a piece of dark wizard's soul surgically removed from the boy's psyche by a chain-smoking occult detective with attitude problems.
It was, Bruce reflected, exactly the sort of impossible situation that had defined most of his adult life. The only difference was that this time, the stakes involved a six-year-old who'd already been through more trauma than most adults could handle, and who deserved the chance to grow up surrounded by safety, love, and the sort of ordinary magical education that every wizard child should receive.
Whatever it took to give Harry that chance—magical wards, dangerous medical procedures, confrontations with international magical authorities, or anything else—Bruce was prepared to handle it. Because Harry Potter was family now, and the Wayne family protected its own.
Even when protecting them required dealing with cynical occult detectives and fragments of evil wizards' souls.
—
Six hours later, Giovanni stood in Wayne Manor's main study with his secure satellite phone, staring at the device as if it might spontaneously combust or develop opinions about his life choices. Behind him, the completed ward network hummed with barely audible energy, creating an atmosphere of safety and protection that seemed to settle into the very bones of the ancient building.
Harry and Zatanna were in the conservatory with Alfred, engaging in what appeared to be a spirited debate about the proper technique for making paper airplanes fly using minimal magical intervention. Their laughter drifted through the Manor's halls, bright and normal and completely at odds with the conversation Giovanni was about to have.
Bruce and Selina occupied the study's leather chairs, both wearing expressions that suggested they were prepared for this phone call to result in anything from immediate assistance to international incidents involving supernatural law enforcement agencies. They had, over the past few hours, received comprehensive briefings on John Constantine's professional capabilities and personal limitations, and had reached the conclusion that dealing with him would require both diplomatic skills and hazard pay.
"Right then," Giovanni muttered, more to himself than to his audience. "Let's see if Constantine is feeling helpful today, or if he's going to make this as difficult and unpleasant as possible for everyone involved."
He dialed a number that existed in no conventional directory, then waited through several rings before a gravelly voice with a working-class British accent answered. The voice sounded like it belonged to someone who'd been smoking cigarettes since childhood and considered cynicism a legitimate philosophical position.
"Giovanni Zatara," the voice said without preamble, pronouncing the name with the sort of exaggerated precision that suggested barely controlled irritation. "Either someone's dead, someone's about to be dead, or someone's discovered something that's going to make everyone's life significantly more complicated. Which is it this time?"
"Hello, John," Giovanni replied with forced civility. "I need to discuss a case with you. A child with a soul fragment attachment, complicated magical heritage, and circumstances that require immediate intervention by someone with your particular expertise."
"Soul fragment?" Constantine's voice sharpened with professional interest despite his obvious reluctance to be having this conversation. "What kind of fragment, and how did a kid end up carrying it around? Because if we're talking about deliberate magical grafting, I'm going to need considerably more information before I agree to get involved."
"Accidental attachment during a failed Killing Curse," Giovanni said with the sort of careful precision that came from knowing Constantine would want complete technical details. "The child survived the curse, the caster was destroyed, but a piece of the caster's soul apparently broke off and attached itself to the survivor. The child is now six years old, showing signs of external personality influence and knowledge he shouldn't possess, and needs the fragment safely removed."
The silence on the other end of the line was profound and dangerous, the sort of quiet that typically preceded either very good news or very bad news with little middle ground between the two.
"Giovanni," Constantine said slowly, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been alarm mixed with professional fascination, "are you telling me that you've found Harry bloody Potter?"
Giovanni exchanged glances with Bruce and Selina, both of whom had gone very still at Constantine's immediate recognition of Harry's identity.
"Yes," Giovanni confirmed carefully. "Harry Potter, age six, been missing from magical protection for over a month, currently in the care of people who understand his abilities and want to help him. He needs the soul fragment removed as soon as possible, both for his own wellbeing and for the safety of everyone around him."
"Jesus wept," Constantine muttered, and Giovanni could hear what sounded like a cigarette being lit with trembling hands. "Do you have any idea—any bloody idea at all—what kind of shitstorm is going to happen when word gets out that Harry Potter has been found?"
"Which is why we're taking extensive precautions to make sure word doesn't get out until after his medical situation is resolved and proper protections are in place," Giovanni replied with diplomatic firmness. "John, I need you to focus on the immediate medical issue rather than the political implications. Can you safely remove a soul fragment from a six-year-old child without causing permanent psychological or magical damage?"
Another pause, shorter this time but filled with what sounded like rapid calculations and professional assessment.
"Theoretically, yes," Constantine said finally. "I've done similar procedures before, though never on someone that young and never involving a fragment from someone as magically powerful as... well, as whoever created this particular mess. It's risky, Giovanni. Very risky. One mistake and the kid could end up with permanent magical damage, psychological trauma, or worse."
"What's worse than permanent magical damage?" Bruce asked quietly, though his voice was pitched to carry clearly through the phone.
"Who's that?" Constantine demanded with immediate suspicion. "Giovanni, please tell me you haven't involved civilians in this situation, because if Harry Potter is in the care of muggles who don't understand magical security protocols—"
"Bruce Wayne," Giovanni interrupted smoothly. "Harry's legal guardian as of yesterday, extensive resources, comprehensive security capabilities, and fully briefed on the magical situation. Not a civilian, John—someone who's been dealing with supernatural threats for years and has the tactical experience to handle whatever complications arise."
"Bruce Wayne," Constantine repeated thoughtfully. "The Gotham billionaire with the impressive collection of expensive toys and the habit of making criminals disappear into the night? That Bruce Wayne?"
"The very same," Bruce confirmed, his voice carrying the controlled intensity that typically made people reconsider their assumptions about wealthy philanthropists. "Constantine, I want to know exactly what risks we're dealing with if we proceed with the soul fragment removal, and what risks we're dealing with if we don't."
Constantine was quiet for several moments, clearly processing information and running through professional calculations that involved factors most people never had to consider.
"If we don't remove it," Constantine said finally, "the kid's going to get progressively more unstable as he gets older. Soul fragments don't just sit there passively—they influence thoughts, emotions, magical development, sometimes even physical behavior. Harry could end up becoming more like whoever created the fragment, developing personality traits and magical abilities that aren't his own."
He paused, and when he continued, his voice was grimmer. "Plus, soul fragments can be used as magical anchors. If anyone with the right knowledge gets close enough to Harry, they could potentially use the fragment to track him, influence him, or even use him as a conduit for magical attacks. He'd be a walking security vulnerability for anyone who tried to protect him."
"And if we do remove it?" Selina asked, her voice carrying the sort of tactical concern that came from needing to understand all possible outcomes before committing to a course of action.
"If the procedure goes well, Harry becomes a normal magical child with normal magical development and no external influence on his personality or abilities. He'd be safer, more stable, and significantly less valuable as a target for hostile forces." Constantine's tone grew more serious. "If the procedure goes badly, we could be looking at anything from mild magical sensitivity issues to complete magical nullification to permanent psychological damage."
"What are the odds of success?" Bruce asked with the sort of direct precision that came from needing to make tactical decisions based on risk assessment rather than hope.
"Eighty percent, maybe eighty-five if everything goes according to plan and we don't encounter any unexpected complications," Constantine replied with grudging honesty. "Higher than most procedures of this type, lower than anyone would prefer when discussing a six-year-old's welfare. The kid's young enough that his magical system is still developing, which makes the fragment easier to separate but also makes him more vulnerable to damage if something goes wrong."
Giovanni, Bruce, and Selina looked at each other, clearly processing this information and weighing the risks against the potential benefits.
"There's one more factor we need to consider," Constantine continued, his voice taking on the sort of careful neutrality that suggested he was about to share information that was both important and uncomfortable. "If I do this procedure, if I successfully remove a soul fragment from Harry Potter, word is going to get out eventually. The magical community will learn that Harry's been found, that he's been carrying around a piece of... well, of whoever tried to kill him, and that he's now under the protection of people who have access to resources and expertise that most magical families can't match."
"Meaning?" Bruce prompted, though his tone suggested he was already guessing the answer.
"Meaning you're going to be dealing with every magical government, dark wizard, opportunistic researcher, well-meaning rescue organization, and curious journalist in the world descending on Gotham simultaneously," Constantine said with the sort of weary resignation that suggested extensive personal experience with magical media circuses. "Harry Potter's not just famous—he's a symbol, a political figure, a valuable asset, and a target all rolled into one very small, very vulnerable package."
Constantine paused, then continued with something that might have been respect mixed with concern. "But if you're serious about protecting him, if you've got the resources and the commitment to keep him safe while he grows up and learns to handle his abilities and his heritage, then removing the soul fragment is the right thing to do. It's risky, but it's less risky than leaving him vulnerable to external manipulation for the rest of his life."
"When can you be here?" Giovanni asked, his voice carrying the sort of determined efficiency that suggested the decision had been made and now it was time to focus on practical implementation.
"Give me twelve hours to gather the necessary equipment and clear my schedule," Constantine replied. "I'll need a secure location for the procedure, preferably somewhere with good magical insulation and far enough from populated areas that accidental magical discharge won't cause civilian casualties. And Giovanni?"
"Yes?"
"I'm going to need to meet the kid before I agree to do this. I don't work on children unless I'm absolutely certain they understand what's happening and genuinely consent to the procedure. Six years old or not, Harry Potter gets to decide whether he wants to take this risk."
After Constantine ended the call, the three adults sat in Wayne Manor's study contemplating the magnitude of what they were about to undertake. Outside, Gotham continued its usual rhythms of urban complexity and criminal creativity, completely unaware that the city was about to become the focal point of magical attention from around the world.
"Well," Selina said finally, her voice carrying the sort of dark humor that came from recognizing impossible situations and deciding to find them amusing rather than overwhelming. "This should be interesting. Think we can handle magical journalists and international wizard politics on top of everything else?"
"We've handled worse," Bruce replied with the sort of calm confidence that had carried him through years of dealing with impossible situations involving supernatural threats and complicated family dynamics. "And Harry deserves the chance to grow up free from external influence, regardless of what political complications that creates."
Giovanni nodded with obvious respect for their commitment to Harry's welfare despite the risks involved. "Then we proceed with the soul fragment removal, establish comprehensive long-term security measures, and prepare for whatever magical circus ensues when word gets out that Harry Potter has been found."
From the conservatory came the sound of children's laughter as Harry and Zatanna discovered that magically enhanced paper airplanes could perform aerial acrobatics that defied several fundamental laws of physics. It was a normal, happy sound that belonged to a normal, happy childhood—exactly what Harry Potter deserved to have, magical fame and complicated heritage aside.
"Tomorrow," Bruce said quietly, his voice carrying the sort of absolute conviction that had defined every major decision of his adult life, "we give Harry the chance to make his own choice about the procedure. And whatever he decides, we make sure he has the support and protection he needs to live with the consequences."
Because Harry Potter was family now, soul fragments and magical conspiracies and international attention aside. And the Wayne family had never been particularly good at backing down from a fight, especially when children were involved.
Even when the fight involved chain-smoking occult detectives and fragments of evil wizards' souls and the probability of magical media circuses descending on Gotham like particularly well-educated locusts with press credentials.
The complications would come soon enough. For tonight, let there be paper airplane competitions and the sort of ordinary magical childhood that every wizard child deserved to experience.
---
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