Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

The boats docked at the lakeside landing, and the new students followed Hagrid up toward the castle.

As they disembarked, Hagrid found Neville's toad on one of the empty boats. Neville nearly burst with joy, clutching his pet tightly as if afraid it might disappear again at any moment.

Kathoom murmured quietly, "Care to bet on how long it'll be before Neville loses that toad again?"

"No bet." Without looking back, Bruce followed Hagrid toward the castle's towering oak doors.

Raising his massive fist, Hagrid pounded on the doors three times. They swung open to reveal a tall witch with dark hair waiting inside.

This was Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall greeted them. "The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will each be sorted into your respective houses..."

Hearing this, Bruce felt a surge of frustration.

He remembered how Kathoom had once assured him with such certainty that he'd be admitted to the "hidden house of Azkaban." Only later did Bruce discover from reading up on the magical world that Azkaban was, in fact, a prison.

And when he'd confronted Kathoom, the owl had simply shrugged it off with, "A prison is just an advanced type of school."

Great. Bruce decided then and there that he'd figure out a way to enroll Kathoom in "school" one day, too.

"...The names of the four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

All jokes aside, Bruce was genuinely curious about which house he'd end up in.

"In just a few moments, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school. I recommend that you straighten yourselves up a bit while you wait," Professor McGonagall advised. "Make sure you look presentable."

Bruce overheard two boys talking quietly; it was Harry and his red-haired friend.

"How exactly do they sort us?" Harry asked.

"I think...maybe some sort of test?" the other boy guessed.

The word test sent a ripple of anxiety through the group, and most of the first-years started to look distinctly uneasy.

Hermione, in particular, looked panicked and began muttering to herself, reviewing spells under her breath at lightning speed.

"Is there really going to be a test?" Bruce asked Kathoom.

But Kathoom didn't answer. Instead, he seemed preoccupied, repeating a chant under his breath.

"What are you muttering?" Bruce asked, a bit nervous.

"It's the Occlumency spell," Kathoom replied dismissively. "I'm just setting up a little mental shield—no big deal. We wouldn't want anyone peeking into our secrets, now would we?"

What? Did that mean someone was about to read his mind?

Bruce knew that Kathoom possessed a vast range of spells, many of which Bruce himself was unable to perform. In Kathoom's capable talons, even complex magic seemed simple.

As Kathoom chanted, Bruce felt a strange sensation in his mind. It was as if a barrier was forming, shielding his thoughts from escaping.

Kathoom whistled in satisfaction. "There, all set. Nothing to worry about now."

Just like that? Bruce had no idea how it even worked.

Of course, it was far from simple. Had he and Bruce not shared a soul bond, Occlumency wouldn't have worked on Bruce. But Kathoom wasn't about to go into the details.

"Now then, line up in a single file," Professor McGonagall instructed. "Follow me."

The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

The first-years were led into the opulent Great Hall, which was met with gasps of awe. At the front of the hall, on a small stool, sat a tattered, pointed hat.

Wrinkles and folds gave the hat a distinctly human-like face—a rather ugly one at that—and as they watched, it began to sing.

As the hat's song went on, the first-years relaxed. It seemed there wouldn't be a test; they just needed to put on the hat, and it would determine their house.

Only Hermione looked slightly disappointed.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long scroll. "I'll call each of your names. When you hear yours, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait for your house to be announced."

"Hannah Abbott!"

A small girl stumbled forward, put on the hat, and after a brief pause—

"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted.

The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers.

"Hogwarts is quite something, isn't it?" Kathoom remarked with a hint of sarcasm. "Sorting kids out and slapping labels on them right from the start."

Bruce sighed. It didn't matter what it was, anything that came out of Kathoom's beak seemed to take on a different tone.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Kathoom said, twisting his head around 180 degrees, looking smug and punchable. "They all take the same classes—what's the point of sorting?"

"Maybe it's tradition," Bruce suggested, fishing for an excuse.

"Oh, it's a great tradition. When one house screws up, you can just cut them off completely."

Kathoom's non-stop commentary was starting to get on Bruce's nerves, so he grabbed Kathoom's beak to silence him.

"That won't work, you know." Kathoom's voice echoed in Bruce's mind. "We can always communicate telepathically, remember?"

Kathoom saw no issue with what he was saying; he thought Bruce was being unreasonable.

After all, even the Sorting Hat itself doubted the whole system. In Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, it had sung about how it felt house divisions were a bad idea but was bound to do its duty regardless.

Bruce finally gave in, letting go and changing the subject. "What house do you think I'll end up in?"

"Ninety percent chance it'll be Ravenclaw. But I recommend asking the Sorting Hat to put you somewhere else."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I can ask the Sorting Hat?"

"You think I'd leave something like this to chance? I've already spoken to the Sorting Hat. It'll respect your choice. It's a privilege only you have."

Was that really true?

"Why are you so sure it'll be Ravenclaw?"

"Because the hat sees potential and tendencies for the future. You don't fit the other houses:

"Gryffindor demands bravery, but your path leads you to coexist with fear—to even draw strength from it.

"Slytherin values heritage, yet you don't wear the Wayne name with pride. To you, it's just a disguise.

"Hufflepuff values loyalty and justice. Now, let's be honest, Bruce—you'll pursue justice in any way necessary, even if it's not the cleanest method, as long as it doesn't involve killing."

Kathoom's analysis, laced with future glimpses Bruce wasn't sure were accurate, still made a strange kind of sense.

"Then by your logic, I've got nowhere to go but Ravenclaw."

"No, no. I want you in Hufflepuff. People sorted into the other houses all share a similar core trait. But what you need now is exposure to people with diverse perspectives. Hufflepuff has all kinds of students, and that'll help you grow."

So instead of thinking about which house suited him, he should be thinking about which house he needed.

Sure, that all sounded noble. But Bruce remembered reading that Hufflepuff's common room was conveniently close to the kitchens—he had a feeling that was Kathoom's real motivation.

"Just trust me," Kathoom said with a sigh, putting on his best sage act.

Meanwhile, Kathoom's thoughts were on an entirely different track.

The other three houses already had clues and legacies connected to them: Gryffindor had the giant squid, Ravenclaw had the diadem, and Slytherin had the Chamber of Secrets.

Hufflepuff's legacy, however, was trickier to access. The clue—the golden cup—was locked away in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault, out of Kathoom's reach for now.

Finding another lead within Hogwarts itself might be the only way.

So, for now, Bruce had to end up in Hufflepuff.