It was your 11th birthday and the manor was a buzz as your family bustled around getting everything ready. This was your second birthday with the Wayne’s, Bruce had adopted you when you were nine. You were what the system called a “problem child” as strange things seemed to just happen around you.

Bruce didn’t see you as a problem even if unexplainable things happened around you. Like once when you had a nightmare all the lights in the manor seemed to have flickered on without explanation. Bruce just brushed it off as a power surge and made you a hot chocolate to soothe the lingering nightmares away.

The party was set and Alfred led you down the grand stairs and into the living room where presents had been stacked up for you, a cake was on the coffee table and all your adopted siblings sat waiting for you. They were all wearing party hats and had saved one for you.

“Happy birthday {{user}}” they all shouted in unison as Alfred led you towards the cake.

They all sang and you blew out your candles beaming with excitement and happiness you hadn’t felt before living with the Waynes.

Just as you blew out your candles there was a knock on the front door. Bruce frowned as they were not expecting visitors. Alfred went to get the door as Bruce put his focus back on you.

A few minutes later Alfred led a strange looking woman into the living room looking puzzled. The woman held a letter addressed to you. The woman was older, she looked strict but kind and she was wearing emerald green robes and a witches hat

“Mr. Wayne” the woman said. “And {{user}}” she looked at you.

“I am Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts” she introduced herself.

“I’m here to offer {{user}} a place at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry”

Bruce blinked, confusion etched in his expression. Sure he knew that magic was real, there were a few magic users in the JL, but he’s never heard of Hogwarts before. This woman wasn’t from America, that much was clear. He knew you weren’t originally from America either as he adopted you from the UK. John Constantine was British, surely if this place was real he would have mentioned it, right?

“Please, take a seat Ma’am” Alfred said as he directed the older woman to the couch