Chapter 9
Bruce watched the newcomer stride straight past Alfred into the hall. While Brucie often mixed up people’s names, much to their annoyance, Bruce never forgot a face. With his expensive suit and general air of self-importance, he might have blended in with the rest of the gala attendees but Bruce felt a power radiating from him, something threatening and relentless. It made him shudder. The stranger’s eyes drifted over the crowd and landed on Harry. Bruce cut through the gossiping party goers and intercepted the man.
“Welcome!” Bruce said loudly, drawing the man’s attention away from Harry.
“Good evening,” the man said, “What a lovely home you have.”
“Thank you,” Bruce slurred his words a little, leaning into Brucie’s role as a harmless drunkard. “Bruce Wayne,” he thrust out his hand, “I don’t think I know you.”
The man’s eyes clearly dismissed him as a threat, drifting back over to Harry. “Albus Dumbledore,” the man responded vaguely.
Dumbledore. Bruce didn’t recognise the name. While Dumbledore was briefly distracted, Bruce looked over his shoulder at Alfred. Alfred nodded at once, slipping away from the foyer. Bruce looked down and saw Damian, glaring at Dumbledore. Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, a silent warning. He did not believe this man would be easily threatened. If they wanted answers, they needed to be stealthy.
“Dumbledore, you say,” Bruce pulled Dumbledore back into their conversation, “I’m sorry, can’t seem to place it. Are you Joannes newest husband? I heard she was bringing one.” Bruce waited to see if he would jump on this excuse.
“It’s actually Professor Dumbledore,” the man said, smiling in a way that made his eyes twinkle. Bruce felt a subtle pressure on his mind, not unlike the experience of inhaling a small dose of Ivy’s hallucinogenic pollen. It seemed to whisper for Bruce to look away, to accept whatever the man said unquestionably. Bruce fought against it internally, while letting his eyes become unfocused. Was this man a meta? He hadn’t even touched Bruce. “I am here to collect one of my students.”
If it wasn’t for years of practice, those words would have been enough to break him out of Brucie’s character. Bruce knew Tim and Harry had lied about going to Eton. When they talked about school, unease stirred in Bruce’s mind. Harry especially, kept stopping himself mid story, clearly skirting around something. They had left too suddenly and vanished too completely.
“During the summer?” Bruce laughed loudly, “Poor kid. What did he do?” He learnt over to a waitress and grabbed a glass of champagne offering it to Dumbledore, “Champagne? It’s imported from Italy.”
In his peripheral, he saw Dick and Jason stiffen momentarily. Their eyes met across the gala and they each put a arm casually around Harry and Tim.
“Better take this one up to bed,” Dick said, ruffling Tim’s hair, “we’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
Jason reached for glass of soda and stumbled, tipping it on Harry’s suit. “I’m so sorry,” he rushed to pad at it with a napkin. “It’s going to stain. Quick let’s get you upstairs to change.” Jason apologised to the man they had been talking to and started to drag Harry away.
“No thanks,” Dumbledore said. The pressure against his mind worsened. Leave. You never saw me. Go back to the party.
Bruce kept right where he was, smiling placidly. “If you’re sure,” Bruce pretended to sip from the glass, “bet you’re one of those teachers,” he grinned, “all rules, no play. let me guess, you’re the headmaster?” Dumbledore’s eye twitched, “I never one for school myself. Don’t know how you do it.”
Bruce carried on, sploshing the champagne glass.
“If you would let me…” Dumbledore tried to cut in but Bruce didn’t stop.
“Don’t know if I should let you in,” he let out another laugh, “I say kids should be allowed a little fun. Whatever they did, can’t have been that bad.”
“I’m actually here to protect him,” Dumbledore was clearly growing impatient but he didn’t seem eager to draw attention to himself by forcing Bruce aside. “I have reason to believe he could be in danger.”
He? Singular.
“What? Really?” Bruce let himself “accidentally” spill a little champagne on Dumbledore’s suit in his alarm. “Should we call the police? I can…”
“No, no,” Dumbledore said quickly. Ignore me. Go back to the party. Forget I was ever here. The pressure was almost painful now but it was nothing compared to what Bruce experienced every night as Batman. “There’s no need for that. If I could just speak to my student.”
“I can call the police, father,” Damian spoke up, “We can’t let a child be in danger.”
Bruce scanned the gala and saw that Jason, Dick, Harry and Tim were all gone.
“Yes, call them at once!” Bruce spilt more champagne on Dumbledore. Damian scampered off into the crowd.
Dumbledore tried to speak but Bruce interrupted him again. “I’m friends with the commissioner. I promise he’ll know what to do.”
“That is not necessary,” Dumbledore, “I can-.”
“Everyone! Everyone!” Bruce raised his voice and the foyer fell silent. “I’m afraid the gala is cancelled! There is a child that may be in danger.”
There were gasps around him.
“What is it?”
“What’s happening?”
People rushed forward to Bruce and Dumbledore, blocking them from taking a step in any direction.
“What is danger?” Bruce said to Dumbledore, widening his eyes in apparent concern. “Is it a rogue?”
“A rogue?” Someone around him said in alarm. “Was there a rogue attack?”
“A rogue attack?”
“Was anyone hurt?”
The crowd broke out into panicked whispers.
“I have to get back to my children.”
“Should I get out my gas mask?”
“I’m calling the police.”
“There is no danger,” Dumbledore tried to pacify the mass of people but it was too late. Everyone was talking at once, drowning out his voice. Dumbledore’s hand reached down to something in his pocket but he hesitated, looking around at what was nearly two hundred people.
The manor’s door burst open and Commissioner Gordon, flanked by six police officers rushed in. Behind them. Bruce saw red and blue lights flashing.
“We came as fast as we could,” the crowd parted for Commissioner Gordon, “What is it? Is anyone hurt?”
“Not yet,” Bruce cried, purposely exaggerating his alarm in front of the Commissioner. Gordon relaxed ever so slightly at the display. “This is a disaster,” Bruce said, “Albert Dumbledore here told me that a child is in danger. We have to act at once.”
“It’s Albus,” Bruce could hear Dumbledore’s annoyance and ignored it.
“I think you’ve had enough champagne,” Gordon said, taking the half empty glass from him, “we should all calm down.”
“Hey, that’ Italian champagne,” Bruce protested.
“Why don’t we go down to the station and get a full report?” Gordon didn’t miss a beat. To others he might look like a commissioner tired of being called to another drunken misunderstanding but Bruce saw the stiffness in his shoulders as he turned to Dumbledore.
“This is really not…” Dumbledore grit his teeth.
“I know how Brucie here can get,” Gordon put a relaxed hand on Dumbledore’s shoulder, subtly leading him out of the hall. “It’s best just to go along with it.”
“I’m coming,” Bruce staggered after them, “Who is in danger? Don’t tell me its Jason or Dick? What if…”
“I’m sure we can answer all of those questions,” Gordon said placatingly, giving Dumbledore a “see what I deal with” look.
Gordon opened the police car door for Dumbledore. The man seemed surprised to find himself already half way into the car. Bruce slid in after him, keeping up incessant chatter. Commissioner Gordon slid into the front seat and peeled out of the driveway, away from the manor.
It was time to get some answers.