Chapter Text
The room was dark and shadowed. What little light there was flickered an eerie green, and an ominous voice boomed into the darkness.
"We sent you to do one thing. One! Thing! And you messed it up!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I did everything I could," another voice responded, rather petulantly. "Most people wouldn't go to such lengths for their household staff. I couldn't anticipate that."
"You know the Gotham protocols; you know the issue with these children growing up in Gotham! Your entire job revolves around making sure they aren't raised in the city! You were supposed to make sure that the boy was in our custody without stirring up any hornets' nests or drawing any attention to yourself! Instead, he's in the spotlight and in the custody of a rich and exceptionally loose-lipped No-Maj! That man's life is like a three ring circus -- this puts our entire community in danger! And it makes us look like fools, to boot!"
As the voice shouted, the light intensified, the flickering shadows taking the shape of flames.
"I have to follow protocol, sir, even in situations like this! If I had done anything more drastic, I'd have been fired, and then you'd not have anyone in the city to chase down these kids! It's not like I would have been able to obliviate the household and just steal the child away like some old-country No-Maj faerie tale!"
The light died down a bit, a disgruntled hrmphf echoing throughout the room. The ominous voice softened.
"You're right, of course -- I should have expected a squib to run into such issues. We'll just have to hope this doesn't come back to bite us in the future. The boy's not actually living in Gotham, anyway -- he's living in Bristol. Technically. Even though most people view it as part of Gotham, it's not Gotham proper. As long as no one takes too good of a look at the file, it should be fine.
"I wish we could have gotten our hands on this child though… I can't believe he's being raised in a strictly No-Maj household, though. Not a single person in that family is in the know!"
"Technically, sir, that's not entirely true. As a member of a Romani clan -- who have a number of allowances in the Statute and other secrecy laws internationally -- Richard Grayson is considered a potential member of the magical community."
"Pah! There hasn't been a magic user in that family for generations! I doubt they even have the magical abilities of squibs! No offence, of course. Still, good thinking. If anyone comes looking, we can say that the child is being cared for in a well-off squib household, I suppose; should also cut down on the paperwork when he comes of age and give us a reason to stay out of that city. I just hope that too much Gotham doesn't soak into him -- last time a magical family rooted themselves in Gotham, we ended up with those creepy kooks who nearly exposed the magical world back in the sixties. "
"I still think the whole superstition around Gotham is overblown. That family was already mysterious and spooky before they settled in Gotham, and they were rumored to be involved in the Dark Arts."
A snort came out of the fire, shedding sparks onto the small hearth. "I met some of them, once -- they were definitely involved in some sort of Dark Arts, although we could never prove illegal use; other than being entirely crazy and altogether ooky, they were fairly nice people. But that doesn't absolve Gotham; explain that Ivy woman, and the Joker? He nearly killed an entire squad of Aurors sent out to investigate if he was a magic user. That Crane fellow almost caused the squad sent to investigate him to go insane."
"But they aren't -- I suspect they're some of those 'meta' people that are popping up among the No-Maj population. Or just so psychopathic we can't do much against them. That 'Batman' fellow that fights them keeps them in line, anyway, so I'm sure it's fine." The second voice breaks into a loud yawn.
"Am I boring you?" the first voice asked wryly.
"No, sir, but you know full well that it's nearly 3AM and I don't have any pepper-up to get me through the day tomorrow. I have to make due with plain old No-Maj coffee… I better sign off so I can get to work on time. I'll let you know if there are any other developments, alright?"
The first voice sighed heavily, then acquiesced. "Alright, alright. I guess I can't keep you from your full time job for a consultancy report. Good night, then -- but keep an eye out! You know the drill, Porter."
"Of course, sir. Good night."
The green light faded to a more normal orange as the floo call disconnected. The sole occupant of the room placed a heavy wrought-iron fire screen in front of the fireplace, deepening the shadows even more. Mr. Porter, dressed in his night clothes, shuffled out of the room as the fire died down and the morning advanced.