Lord Voldemort was furious, beyond furious to be exact. Not only did Lucius give away his old diary and with that his very first Horcrux, simply to get back at Arthur Weasley. No, Karkaroff, the fool and traitor, had sold off one of his other powerful magical artefacts that was stored in the old and ancient seat of the house Black, 12 Grimmauld Place. To everybody who didn't know what it was, it looked like a vase from ancient Greek, but in reality it was a magical jar, which, according to legend, if united with it's twin piece, would release the power of the gods.

"And where is it now," he screamed to his remaining free Death Eaters. They all cowered before him, afraid of his rage.

Lucius, more than willing to redeem himself from his mistake with the diary, stepped forward. "My lord, we do not know, but if you let me, I'll find out and bring it back to you," he offered and bowed down before his master.

Voldemort looked at his follower with contempt, but he also knew that out of all his present followers, Lucius was probably the most resourceful out of his Death Eaters and would have it easier to find the vase than anybody else. "Good, in that case," he said slowly with a smarmy smile on his face.

Lucius raised his head in hope but tried to display any of it on his face, even though he knew that his master was the greatest Legilimes of all time and if he wanted to, he would see all of his emotions at once. "Thank you for your confidence my lord," he simply said. "I won't disappoint you."

"I hope for your sake you won't," Voldemort hissed, not even remotely trying to hid his anger from Lucius previous failures.

Lucius bowed again and withdraw with his head down. After this business was done, their master asked all but Severus Snape to leave. At once Lucius got to the next fireplace and travelled back to his home to change into his best clothes – he had a visit at the ministry to conduct.

About an hour later Lucius stepped out of one of the fireplaces at the entrance hall of the ministry. When a member of the security staff tried to stop him in order to submit to the normal security procedure, he gave him a stern glare, and after that didn't stop him, he berated the young man. "Don't you know who I am," he asked angrily. The security officer didn't know what to say. "I'm Lucius Malfoy and I'm a personal friend of the minister," he proclaimed in an arrogant way and stared at the man with an extremely piercing look.

"I'm – I'm sorry," the man stuttered.

Lucius didn't say anything else and simply moved on. He also didn't care for all these other onlookers who shook their head in disbelieve over his arrogance, nor did he care, that, when he had already crossed the hall, the boss of the young man berated him as well, because he let a civilian through just like that.

Lucius entered one of the lifts and drove down to the office of the Public Information Service, since data about the trade of artefacts. Even though the vase was not known to be magical, it was an ancient piece of art and would probably be registered anyway. At least that was what Lucius gambled upon. When he entered the office of the PIS he didn't greet anybody and immediately went through to the personal office of the head of the service, Camille Clarke, a plump witch of clear African decent with short black hair which she had bewitched to show blond strands at random in between. "Ah, Lucius," she greeted her guest with an happy voice, even though he knew it was all fake. "What can I do for you?"

Clarke offered him one of the seats in front of her desk and Lucius gladly sat down. "I need to know if you have documents about the sell of an ancient vase from ancient Greek, around 800 B.C.," he explained and got out a photo out of one of his pockets, which showed the vase.

Clarke looked at the picture and nodded. "Was it yours?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, it belonged to the family of my dear wife."

"The Balcks?"

This time Lucius gave a tight nod. "Yes. It was stolen over a decade ago. I don't know from whom, but until now we didn't realise, since we hadn't been to her old childhood home that often. But we were there at the beginning of the summer, after we heard rumours that Sirus Black was back in the country," he explained.

"Why," asked Clarke a bit irritated.

"Well, we were afraid that he might get to old goods in family possession and sell them on the black market to make money for himself."

This explanation seemed to satisfy Clarke, for the most part at least. "I can understand that, but why do you think that it wasn't stolen now but already over ten years ago?"

Lucius smiled a lazy smile. "According to the house elf the vase went missing in late 1981 after the house as been abandoned due to – well known reasons." The facial features of his opposite told him that he finally convinced her of his story.

"Okay, did it have any magical abilities," Clarke asked.

"No, but I hoped that, since it is an ancient artefact, it would have been registered anyway, if it surfaced since then."

Clarke nodded. "I doubt it, but I'll look into it anyway," she said. Lucius thanked her and stood up, but Clarke stopped him from leaving. "And you really should go to the law enforcement."

"I know, but I doubt that the thief will be caught after all these years," he said politely, before saying goodbye a second time and leaving Clarke's office.

A few days later Lucius got called back to Clarke's office. "I guess you have found something," he asked hopefully but clam.

Clarke nodded. "It was sold to a collector of Greek and Roman art in 1985 from some rich wizard from Russia."

"And what's his name," Lucius asked.

"Noel Benton," Clarke answered. "But it won't do you any good."

"Why not?"

"Because he sold it again. To an American collector by the name of Mark Garnett."

Lucius sighed. He hadn't intended to travel across the pond to the United States, but it seemed like he had to. "Thank you," he said, a bit disappoint.

As he was standing up, Clarke told him to sit down again. "I called in a favour from a colleague of mine at the American Institute of Arts. According to her, Garnett died two months ago in a car crash. He had no family so his belongings were given to the Gotham Museum of Antiquities," she explained.

Lucius frowned. "Never heard of it."

Clarke let out a little laugh. "Of course not, it's a muggle museum."

Lucius face fell and he went even whiter than normally. An artefact that belonged to the Dark Lord was held at a dirty muggle museum in the United States of America? His master wouldn't be pleased with this news. "Well, that complicates the matter," he said.

"Don't worry, I bet, once you can proof to the American Ministry that the vase belongs to the family of your wife and was stolen, they'll help you to get it back from the museum," Clarke replied.

Lucius nodded and forced a smile back on his face. "Of course," he said and stood up again. "Thank you, again," he told her and left her office, not trying to look like he was in a hurry.

His report went over exactly as Lucius has feared it would. Voldermot was angry, more than angry. He had to stop himself to use the Cruciatus Curse on Lucius, but he destroyed a picture on the wall in his hiding place, blasted two chairs to shreds and used another shock curse on Lucius anyway. "I can still try to get it back my lord. But it'll take time and the help of the American Ministry of Magic," Lucius begged.

He was again hit by a curse of his master. "No," his voice boomed through the room. "I want this vase now Lucius, do you understand? Now! And I don't want any dirty muggle hands on it!"

Lucius laid on the floor in front of his master, shaking with fear that he might get hit with an unforgivable curse next. "Please master, I could always steal it for you," he begged.

"Silence!," roared Voldemort and this time he used the Cruciatus Curse on his follower. "I'll go there myself," he proclaimed and left the room, with a whimpering Lucius left lying on the floor. "Such an priceless artefact in the hands of muggles," Voldemort muttered angrily to himself. "What an imbecile would give any of his possessions to this kind of filth," he wondered out loud. He then summoned Snape and Wormtail and gave them the order to look after Nagini while he was gone. Not surprisingly Snape asked where he was going, but immediately backed down and apologised when Voldemort told him, that it was none of his business. And of the Dark Lord was, to the dark city of Gotham.

Gotham was both beautiful and rundown at the same time. The centre of the city and the southern suburbs were rather beautiful and shined with wealth. The harbour, the northern parts and strangely enough the western suburbs were crime ridden, gloomy regions, that nobody would ever go to if he or she didn't have to. But Voldemort didn't care for all of this. He only cared for his vase.

When he had gotten to Gotham it was still afternoon, and he decided that he would go get the vase back at night time, when it was less likely to have witnesses and get the American Ministry on his trail. For now he wanted to stay undetected. Not that he really cared, but the fact that Fudge denied his return gave him way more free hand in his decisions than if the Aurors were already after him. But he already decided that he should check out the museum first before going to break into it at night, before he even went to Gotham. He ordered Snape to brew him some polyjuice potion, which he took with him, and when he finally got to Gotham, he kidnapped the first best man on the street, killed him, took his clothes and put his hair into the polyjuice. In this disguise he entered the museum and tried to locate the vase. He found out it was part of an exhibition on the Greek Dark Ages, which was held on the sixth floor of the museum.

It was past eleven p.m. when Voldemort finally decided it was time to get the vase. He apparated silently onto the sixth floor of the museum, right next to the vase. Before he could get his wand out in order to dismantle the nearly useless muggle security measurements, he heard a loud bang. Startled he turned around and finally realized that there was siren sound coming from outside. Slowly approaching the windows, he saw red and blue lights down in the streets. I must have stumbled into a muggle break-in, he reasoned. He shook his head and turned back to the vase. It was of no matter. No muggle could stop him from getting what he wanted. And if he had to kill either the police or the robbers, he didn't care. He finally got his wand out and muttered an incarnation which switched off the alarm system on the vase's case.

Just as Voldemort was about to use another curse to crush the glass case, he heard something behind him. As he turned around, wand still drawn, just as he thought he felt something inside him warning him that he was being watched. But he couldn't see anything and if either the robbers or the police would be on his floor, he would already have notice it moments ago. For a short while he mused it could be a security guard, but he dismissed the thought nearly immediately. A security guard would have called attention to himself at once. So he turned around to the glass case, only to stare into a rather intimidating side.

A tall and muscular man was standing before him. But that wasn't the intimidating part, that was his costume. He wore a black cape, a grey bodysuit, black boots and gloves, a yellow belt, and a black mask that looked like a bat on his face. How did he get here, Voldemort asked himself, and wasted precious time with this.

The man opposite of him already reacted and grabbed Voldemort's wand arm. Before Voldemort could do anything, the other man applied pressure to it, enough pressure to make it hurt, and then, out of nowhere, he punched Voldemort in the face, which caused the Dark Lord to fall onto his back. "You should have deactivated the motion sensors on the ground first," he said in a very deep voice.

Voldemort was angry, very angry. He couldn't sense one ounce of magic in this man, and he wasn't to get schooled by a muggle. But once again, the other man was faster than he was. He stepped onto his wand arm and gave him a cold and piercing look, at least Voldemort thought he was, since he couldn't see the eyes of the man, which were covered by some kind of glasses. But if there was eye contact, he could use it, and in a swift motion, he tried to establish a link to his opponent's mind. Nobody can defend himself against my legilimency skills!

"I would prefer you not poking around my head," growled the other man and kicked Voldemort in the head.

Voldemort hissed in pain. How could a muggle withstand my legilimency attempts, he wondered as his opponent stepped off of him and picked up his wand. "Mmh, a wizard," he muttered, looking at the wand.

The Dark Lord used this opportunity. He stood up, collected his thoughts again and conducted the summoning charm in his mind, which caused his wand to fly out of the hands of the stranger and into his own. "Avada Ke...," before he could finish the killing curse, he was knocked to the ground by his opponent and the curse hit the ceiling, leaving a black mark there.

The man in the bat costume knocked the wand out of Voldemort's hand again and then grabbed the noseless wizard at the collar, dragging him up and pinning him to the wall. "English, South London I presume," he deduced.

Voldemort had no idea how to react to his, for a second he let his guard down before he collected his thoughts again. He could try to dive into his man's mind again, but somehow he had the feeling that it wouldn't work so easily. So he decided to ask the question burning on his mind. "Who are you?"

The face of the other man became even harder, if that was possible, and for once Voldemort was clad that he couldn't see another man's eyes. "I'm Batman," came the answer in a deep, cruel and frighting growl. "And who – are – you?"

Somehow Voldemort could see Batman knitting his brows behind his mask and he became a pretty good feeling of the fire that burned in the eyes of this man, and somehow it made him feel at least a little bit scared. How was this muggle making me feel scared? "None of your business, dirty muggle," Voldermot spit back. He was the Dark Lord after all, he was the most powerful wizard of all time, and no dirty worthless muggle could overcome him. He mustered up all his anger and tried again to peek into the man's mind. And as soon as Batman realised this, he banged his head against Voldemort's, which took the dark wizard out of the moment.

Batman than sucker punched Voldemort in the face, threw him around, punched him in the face again, and then threw him to the ground. Batman gritted his teeth. "What did I tell you about poking around in my mind," he growled angrily.

Voldemort felt something creeping up in him, something he had only felt when he had fought Dumbledore in the past: The fear of losing this confrontation. But how was that even possible? He was the master of the dark arts, the most powerful wizard of all time, and had mastered immortality. But now, somehow, he was pinned to the ground by a muggle in a bat-costume, who called himself Batman, and somehow had enough restrain and control about his mind to detected legilimency.

Voldemort stared at Batman again, angry with the other man and with himself, but this time he didn't try to delve into his opponent's mind, he wasn't exactly keen on getting hit again. Instead he tried to confuse him, while using wandless magic. To summon chains out of thin air with only the power of your mind and to control them was hard, but Voldemort was indeed one of the most powerful and talented wizards to ever walk the earth, in present times maybe really only equalled by Albus Dumbledore, so he knew he could manage to do it. But somehow Batman felt that something was off, even before the chains began to wrap themselves around his body. He manages to grab for his belt, but this time, he was too slow. The chains engulfed him and rendered him immobile.

Voldemort stood up and laughed a shrill laugh. "Now, Batman," he giggled, holding out his hand and summoning his wand into it, "it's over." But before Voldemort could perform the killing curse, he heard foot steps coming from the staircase.

"Batman," asked a male voice in a worried tone. Voldemort looked up and saw a plain dressed man in a trench coat with greying, but still reddish hair and moustache. As soon as the man had spotted Voldemort and Batman he got out his gun and yelled; "GCPD, drop your weapon!"

Voldemort sneered and began to laugh. He stopped pointing his wand at Batman and instead at the policeman who just came into the room. But before he could perform his spell to kill the man, he was hit by something, which made him loose his wand once again. This something turned out to be a metallic-red coloured boomerang in a weird form that somewhat looked like a bird, which came from Voldemort's right. The dark wizard turned around and spotted another masked figure approaching. Unlike Batman he hadn't had his entire face covered by a black mask, but still enough to be hard to identify with met without it, and his costume was way more colourful. He wore a dark green bodysuit, similar coloured gloves, and a dark red armour over it, that covered his upper-buddy. The only two things his costume had in common with Batman's were the black boots and and his black cape.

Angrily Voldemort gritted his teeth, summoned his wand once again (which he lost way too often for his own taste during this battle) and took a look around. Whoever the other, way younger masked man was, he looked really pissed at him and was probably not to fool around with either, but Voldemort could probably have taken him out without much problem at this very moment, but he still would have to deal with the policeman, who pointed his gun at him. Of course Voldemort could take him out as well, but the question was, how fast the other one would react. So he decided that he had to use close-space apparation, which was very dangerous, in order to get the upper hand once again.

Before either one of the two newcomers could react, Voldemort had disappeared and reappeared behind the policeman, pointing his wand at the other man's head. Voldemort laughed and was about to again perform the killing curse, when Batman said something; "Nice trick," after which he threw himself to the ground.

At first Voldemort had no idea, why he had done this, but then he had to apparate, again. Somehow Batman had manage to gain enough freedom to get a gadget out of his belt and to throw it in Voldemort's direction. Just as Voldemort reappeared again, now on the other side of the policeman, the gadget exploded in a puff of smoke and Batman yelled "duck" to the officer, who of course obeyed, which made Voldemort a free target for the other masked man, who immediately threw his boomerang a second time at the dark wizard.

With a flick of his wand Voldemort made the boomerang disappear into thin air, but this distraction was all the policeman had needed in order to turn around and to throw his entire mass against Voldemort's body, bringing him to the ground. The Dark Lord was now lying on the ground with a policeman pointing a gun at his face. This simply can't be true, he thought to himself. He apparated again, this time to the other end of the room, irritating his opponents, and buying himself enough time to get up again. Raising his wand he simply pointed it at the glass case protecting the vase. He blasted the glass away, apparated forward, grabbed the vase, and disapparated once again, this time far away from this place. The last thing he saw was that Batman somehow had managed to completely free himself from his magical chains.

Voldemort never knew it, but had he only disapparated a second later, he would have been hit by three bullets and two Batarangs at once, which would have, of course, killed him and ripped his remaining soul from his body for a second time.