August 12th AD 1991.

Dumbledore gazed longingly at the Mirror of Erised and sighed. How easy it was to be captured in the desires of what could have been had things gone differently. Dangerous really. Turning away from the relic he meandered through the halls of the school. In another few weeks, these vacant corridors would be teeming with students, joy and merriment that can only be found in youth will fill the currently empty space, and it all will be good again. Albus knew many of his teachers preferred the quiet calm that came with the summer holidays, but he himself preferred the school term. As relaxing as the summers could be without the bustle of students, they were rather dull without the commotion that came with the growth and development of young witches and wizards. Despite his eager anticipation of the coming term, the aging headmaster felt a deep foreboding accompanying it. Just yesterday he had made the decision for Hagrid to finally withdraw the Philosopher's Stone from Gringots and begin its residency at Hogwarts. A decision, according to this morning's Auror's visit, was made in the nick of time. How Lord Voldemort managed to penetrate Gringots remained a mystery to him, but that the dark lord was somehow behind it, Albus was sure. Dumbledore was not a man to believe in coincidences, nor did was he obsessed with divination, but the fact that Voldemort had made his move the year Harry Potter was to start at Hogwarts was an ominous.

Harry's situation weighed heavy on the old wizard's mind. The boy was being brought into the magical world utterly in the dark of any of his history. If Arabella's rambling report was accurate, Harry's relatives had neglected him and hid him from any and all magic. On top of that, the Boy-who-Lived now found himself the ward of an American billionaire, whose reputation of a playboy was well documented. What impact on the boy's psyche Wayne might have was still to be seen.

Bruce Wayne was another question in of himself. Everything he could discover of the muggle was that he was a billionaire, playboy, owner and CEO of a major enterprise, and orphaned as a young boy. The man's orphan status may be what lead him to adopt seemingly random boys, of whom Harry was the latest. The rest of the headlines about Wayne either involved his corporations or his playboy antics. However, Albus' brief encounter with the man gave him the impression that Bruce Wayne was not what the press made him to be. The man was unlike any muggle Albus had encountered; the fact that he was at the gates of the school, was enough to prove that. What sort of impression would he leave on young Harry? Who would Harry Potter be when he arrived at his school?

In his mind, Albus had always envisioned Harry as a carbon copy of James but with more restraint, compliments of his mother. He now knew that the likelihood of Harry's behavior being a repeat of his father's was slim, for better or worse. Albus doubted that it was any secret that Lily and James were two of his all-time favorite students, as such he had always expected to have an affinity for their son. The prophecy concerning Harry only deepened his concern for the boy. Breathing deeply, the elderly wizard felt the sense of loss he always had when remembering James and Lily. The brightest and best Hogwarts had to offer, students gifted beyond belief and full of potential, taken too soon. Walking through the vast halls of the castle, he reminisced when four young mischief makers galivanted through the castle with nary a concern other than their classes and numerous detentions. Those bright days before the terrible war, before Lord Voldemort, before betrayal and death extinguished the light that had been the Potters and their friends. He had done what he thought necessary to keep their son safe, now he questioned his decision.

Albus sighed, wondering if he ought to send Hagrid to the Wayne's home and explain things to Harry as he had intended to do with the Dursleys, or if that would be detrimental to his cause. Wayne obviously had some knowledge of the magical world, to what extent that was, the headmaster was clueless. One thing Dumbledore was sure of: he needed to meet Bruce Wayne again.

Barbra sat down exhausted in the Batcave. This assignment from Batman was proving to be more difficult than she had thought. It was not just an annalist task, reading through scores of newspaper and magazine articles hoping to find one piece of useful information. Rather, this was a 'boots on the ground' investigation. The so-called Statute of Magical Secrecy was proving to be effective as even with all of Batman's resources at her disposal, she struggled to get her hands on any magical media. Zatanna helped in some regards, she gave a name of a contact in New York: some magical librarian who may have some old British news sources archived. The issue was that Batman had made it clear that any and all direct dealings with wizards and witches would be orchestrated by him, thus she was now waiting for him to make the arrangements for her to be able to continue her investigation for him.

"Hey, Babe," Dick said as he slid next to her.

"Hi, Dick."

"Any progress?" he asked sliding his arm around the back of her seat.

"Not since yesterday," she deadpanned.

Dick looked at her with a slight concern, "how about we get Chinese food before patrol, and get your mind off things for a bit?"

Barbra smiled and slid her red locks behind her ear, "okay."

"Great! Go get freshened up, if you'd like, and we'll go."

"Okay," Barbra stood quickly from her chair, leaned down and kissed Dick chastely, and made her way up the stairs to the manor. Stepping from the secret passage into Bruce's study, she sighed lightheartedly, it had been too long since she and Dick had gone on a date together, and this evening could not have come at a better time for her.

Harry walked towards his room from his excursion to the kitchen. Alfred always kept the cookie jar well stocked and the ones on top, oatmeal and butterscotch chips, were still fresh when the young wizard reached in and grabbed a couple. These were Tim's favorite, which made Harry wonder if the older boy was alright. Alfred always seemed to know when one of the family was having a tough time and managed to bake their favorite cookies for them. It was one of the many things about the old man that endeared him to Harry. As he made his way up the stairs, Harry noticed Barbra step lightly into Bruce's study. Harry stopped in his tracks. How and when did Barbra get here? He had been at home all day; Harry was sure he would have heard her come in. More importantly than how she got to the manor was where she went; no one ever went into Bruce's study without him asking them to. Harry never questioned it, and to his knowledge no one ever challenged that rule. Bruce was still at Wayne Tower; so, what was Barbra doing in there?

Harry tip-toed after the redheaded girl. Pausing outside of the study's door, the young boy felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he tried to calm his excitement. Turning the knob, he heard the latch release and the door pushed inward a crack. Inhaling deeply, Harry peaked through the crack to spy on Barbra, but could not see anything. Mustering his courage, Harry opened the door wider and poked his head further into the room. Nothing. The study was as empty as Harry would have expected it to be if he had not just witnessed Barbra Gordan walking into it. Where was she? Harry walked into the room looking for any hiding places, but none were to be found, a quick glance around was enough to tell Harry that he was alone in the room. Where was Barbra?

"There has to be a secret passageway here," he said to himself. "All the mansions in movies have them, maybe this one does too."

Feeling around the wall, he tried to find something that might signify a hidden door. He tired several books on the shelves, scoured Bruce's desk for a switch, and found nothing. Harry grew more anxious as the secret eluded him. There was no way he simply imagined Barbra sneaking into the study. She was there, somewhere. Harry tried all the drawers of the cabinets with no success. Frustration boiled within him as he tried the door to the Grandfather clock. The door did not open, despite how hard Harry tried. He kicked the clock in anger and heard a hollow sounding "thunk."

Harry's eyes widened and he renewed his search around the antique clock.

"There!" He exclaimed as he found a hidden switch on the frame. Triggering the switch, Harry pushed the clock aside, exposing a dark tunnel and staircase leading downward. Taking a deep breath, Harry plunged into the darkness and descended into the abyss. Carefully taking each step deeper into the damp dark beneath the mansion, Harry listened to the sounds of the chasm. After what felt like hours, Harry saw a literal light at the end of the tunnel. His steps quickened as he neared the light, and soon found himself standing at the end of the stairway and the display before him took his breath away. There in the faint light was what could only be described as a secret lair. A giant computer loomed at the back of the cave. A long driveway led away into the darkness. At the far end of the complex looked to be a training ring and entrances to locker-rooms.

Harry gazed around him in wonder, trying to comprehend what it was he saw.

"Wow!" his voiced echoed through the cave calling back to him. Harry wondered deeper into the complex looking at the display cases. His eyes traveled to the ones holding manikins in costumes, and he gasped. There before him scowling down at him was The Batman's cowl. Next to Batman's were what could only be Robin's costume. Harry noticed that this one on display looked older and worn but was probably too small to even fit him.

"Robin's even younger than me," Harry gasped, "or was at least."

His hand reached out towards the glass case his fingers were just about to push on the pane when he felt firm a hand griping his shoulder. Turning suddenly in a panic, Harry looked up to see the stern, frowning face of his guardian, Bruce Wayne.