Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics or Harry Potter.


A DC Comics/Harry Potter crossover


A flash of white and the hum of the Batcave's teleporter heralded the arrival of Zatanna Zatara, Mistress of Magic. She hit the floor at a dead sprint, crossing the cave in a matter of moments, using the slightly echoing voices as a guide. Her heart pounding with dread, she practically screamed as she neared the cave's garage.

"Batman? Are you—"

She skidded to a stop, nearly bowling over Alfred, the Wayne family butler. A distant corner of her mind realized that he was speaking to her, but between her rapidly receding panic and shocked incomprehension at the scene before her, she wasn't really listening.

Whatever she'd been expecting when she'd received Batman's distress call, well—this certainly wasn't it.

"I got your emergency signal—?"

Sitting atop the Redbird's hood, Dick Grayson— the superhero Nightwing and eldest son of Bruce Wayne—nearly choked with laughter.

"You—you sent out an emergency signal?"

His only response was a fierce glare, the same glare that reduced criminals to sobbing wretches, begging for mercy on their knees. Of course, it only made Dick laugh harder. From his spot beside his older brother, Tim Drake—known to the world as Robin—peeled off his mask to wipe away tears of merriment.

Trying to hide a smile, Zatanna found the Dark Knight leaning against a nearby wall, his cape pulled around him and a scowl firmly in place.

"Bruce, what's going on?"

He angrily waved a gauntleted hand at the tableau in the middle of the room and growled through clenched teeth. "That THING is attacking my car."

Alfred, who was studying a nearby monitor with his back to the gathering, suddenly developed a suspicious cough.

"Forgive my impertinence Master Bruce, but I don't believe 'attacking' is quite the right word."

Zatanna suddenly found herself fighting back a suspicious cough of her own. Alfred was, as usual, absolutely correct. The final occupant of the cave was no human, but an older model Ford Anglia, spots of rust peeking through its faded turquoise paint.

And it was nuzzling the Batmobile.

There was really no other way to describe it. The Anglia had sidled up to the black auto and was rubbing its bumper along the newer car's sleek hood and front quarter panel. To make matters worse, the low rumble of its engine made it sound as though the rusted relic was purring.

"I'm glad you find this amusing." Bruce's voice dropped to a lower, almost pouting tone as he mumbled, "I just had it repainted."

Unfortunately, the cave had excellent acoustics and the Dark Knight didn't mumble quietly enough.

Nightwing, the scourge of Bludhaven's criminal underground, opened his mouth, presumably to reply with a suitably witty comeback. But the only thing that escaped was "wooooo" as he doubled over, attempting to catch his breath between bouts of hysterical laughter.

"I can cut you out of my will, you know."

Batman's scowl merely deepened as Robin, feared squire of the Dark Knight, giggled. "Totally worth it!"

Bruce had started to finger one of the pouches on his utility belt so for the sake of the young heroes, Zatanna valiantly attempted to focus on the love-struck car. She cautiously approached it, keeping up a stream of soft, steady chatter which she hoped would keep it calm. Her breath caught as, for a split second, the Anglia pinned her in its headlights and emitted a low, warning rev of its engine. But she was able to exhale gratefully as it turned back to the Batmobile, completely ignoring her once again. She quickly got to work, waving her hand over the car and whispering under her breath, expertly interpreting the results of her spells.

Her analysis complete, she joined Bruce on the wall, slumping against it with a relieved sigh.

"I have good news and bad news."

A grunt was her only reply. But the boys had stopped snickering to listen in, so she interpreted that as an invitation to continue. "I'm not getting any bad vibes from the car, so I'm pretty sure that it's harmless."

"Can you fix it?"

"And there's the bad news. As far as I can tell, the car's been enchanted for quite some time. If an enchanted object absorbs enough ambient magic, it can develop a personality and an awareness of its surroundings, among other things. This car has absorbed a lot of magic. It's—well, it's practically sentient."

With a sigh, Bruce removed his cowl and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel a stress headache forming.

"So you're telling me that destroying the enchantment would be like killing an innocent creature."

"Pretty much, yeah."


"I thought you'd like that. If you want, I can help you corral it long enough to drop it off somewhere. At least it'll be out of the cave."

Bruce eyed the car warily. "I can't let a sentient car run free. There's no telling what it might do. Someone could get hurt."

Tim arched an eyebrow skeptically. "You're not actually thinking of keeping it, are you?"

Bruce sighed.

"I don't see that I have a choice. Besides," he smirked at his snickering sons, "I have a habit of taking in strays."


Author's Note: This was written for Livejournal's Crossovers100 challenge. The prompt was number 37: Sound.

And last, but certainly not least, thanks to Jaki-my beta.