Harry's Last Laugh: A Harry Potter/Batman XOver
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Batman; all copyright goes to DC and JK Rowling;
Plot: Response to SonoftheClown's 'Hush Little Baby' Challenge: when Sirius dies at the end of OOTP, Harry snaps and seems to release some new form of magic and power that he now calls his own;
Universe Information: Post OOTP; post Arkham City: for images of the Joker use the best of them: Mark Hamil.
Dedication: I would like to dedicate this one-shot to SonoftheClown for creating the challenge and to any and all who enjoy the story: my recommended read for this story is Demon-girl15's story Hush Little Baby
Mentions of Joker/Harley
Harry's Last Laugh
A battle raged all around him;
Strong arms tried to hold him back;
Fear and shock filled his heart;
But, at the edge of his conscience, something awoke within Harry James Potter's heart as he tried not to watch the scene of his godfather being sent through the Veil, his mind seemingly shutting down as he felt Remus' arms around him, a soft voice in his ear, "Harry: I'm sorry; he's gone: there's nothing you can do."
Harry fell to his knees, his hands scraping against the stone of the platform where the veil was situated, his body trembling with what could be described as sobs of pain and loss; however, as the Order, the DA and the Death Eaters all saw the Boy-Who-Lived fall to his knees, they all stopped in their places as the sobs were revealed to be the sounds of laughter: high-pitched and almost broken, it sent a chill through the blood of each and every person in the room.
Then, throwing his head back, Harry cackled like a demon of the darkness, his emerald eyes now like pinpricks in his head and, as Remus, who was closest, tried to approach his cub, he gasped suddenly as a mysterious red light enveloped Harry's body before, right in front of them, his cub began to change. He seemed to regain muscle on his body, but only enough so that he'd qualify for maybe a gymnast's team, his lithe appearance held by strong, sharp-built shoulders and, though it was only seen on his face, neck and hands, slightly paler skin. The red light moved through Harry's body, the change now affecting his robe as he was transformed into what looked like a blood-red silk suit, a black shirt and red tie underneath the suit as Harry then seemed to stand, his head turning to the witches and wizards nearby, his laugh still going through them.
"Well…" he chuckled, brushing stray dirt off his coat, "That was…a new…experience: felt kinda good."
"Harry?" asked Hermione, moving to look upon her best friend despite the disfiguring scar that crossed her chest.
Looking upon Hermione with those cold eyes, Harry, or the thing that had become Harry, seemed to smile before he asked, "Harry? Is that…who I am? Hehehehehehe!" His laugh was cold and cruel, but it was the fact that it was Harry laughing like that which scared everyone around him; even the Death Eaters had stopped in their dark plights to look upon this new evil. Striding away from the veil, Harry put a hand on Remus' shoulder as he added, "I should thank you Wolfy: if it wasn't for you and your treachery towards my memory, I wouldn't have come here and set myself free, but now, as a friend of mine would say."
The Order, the DA and the Death Eaters all watched as Harry lifted his hand and, facing each of them in turn with green eyes that were anything but a memory of Lily Potter, the new Harry laughed, "If you're going to go…then go with a smile!"
He snapped his fingers once and everyone gasped as he vanished in what appeared to be a shower of dark-coloured confetti, his dark laughter echoing around the Department of Mysteries…
"Hush little baby…don't say a word…Momma's gonna kill for you…the whole damned world…"
Harleen Quinzel, alias Harley Quinn seemed to lose herself in a mantra that had kept her sane and alive for the past fifteen years; ever since the Bat had sent her darling Mr J to his death and she had been forced to watch while her child was taken from her, it had been the same song she'd sung every time she thought about him.
"But if the world…was painted red…Mommy's gonna shoot them…all down dead…"
Without Joker around, life in Gotham had changed and Arkham City had become a monument to the fact that, despite the darkest of times, there was still a light in Gotham and that light was the Bat and his band of vigilante sidekicks. Even if the one thing Harley had been able to keep for her child was a blanket decorated with images of a Joker playing card, it still tore her up inside.
"And if the Bat gets in our way…Mommy will make him see…his last day…"
They had said she didn't have it in her to be a Mother; that she was a monster with inhuman tendencies and the heartlessness to not love a child, but murder him…but to Harley, those were her good points. Yet, they were wrong, she would never hurt her Mr J's son and heir; she would have raised him to be like his Daddy and she knew that's what they really feared: another Joker in the pack.
"When the prison…doors slam shut…Mommy's gonna kick…that bad Bat's butt…"
"Because…" a new voice sang, making Harley look up in shock: a shadow was standing outside her cell, his tall, lean appearance looking strikingly familiar, his high-pitched tone as musical as Harley's, "When we see your Daddy again…its then the Bat will meet his end…his blood shall spill across our floors…and we will be one forevermore…"
"Who are you?" asked Harley, angered that someone knew her favourite song and the ending she would always sing for her baby and her Puddin, "How do you know those words?"
"I heard them before my dear," the stranger told her, his maniacally-changed tone making Harley swoon as she heard a trace of her Joker's voice in there, "When you were able to protect me from the Big Bad Bat and my Daddy was so strong."
"Who…" Harley asked, watching as the stranger seemed to lift his hand, tracing it across the glass of her cell door; with a hiss, the door seemed to melt away, allowing the stranger to enter the cell where he turned and lifted his hand again, the glass repairing itself in an instant.
"I feel it better we talk face-to-face," he told Harley, now turning to meet her gaze: the once-maniacal female jester gasped as she saw Joker's dark green eyes looking back at her, but the face and being before her was no Joker: he had slick black hair that rose around his head like a crown of darkness, his emerald eyes rimmed by a light blue sheen that seemed to make him that bit more cold in appearance. He had a fierce, cold grin on his face, his lips edged not by a red make-up smile, but jagged lines against his lips and around his mouth that made him look like some sort of vampire with the fangs of a predator.
He was dressed like Joker, but unlike the common purple suit that Harley knew and loved, this young man was dressed in a streamlined, well-cut blood-red suit with a black shirt underneath it, a red tie hanging from around his neck. Where the Joker held a posy or a daisy for his acid spray, this mysterious being held a freshly-cut black rose with the thorns cutting through his lapel, the smell making Harley think of her time with Joker. Well-cut red leather trousers covered his legs and sharp black dress shoes covered his feet, his image being completed by black fingerless gloves with silver studs along the knuckles that actually looked like they could pack a punch.
What skin Harley could see was as pale as death, but, as she looked up into those eyes of the newcomer, she knew who this was: besides her late Mr J, there was only one other human with that shade in his eyes…and that was…her child, "H-Harry?"
"Hello Mother," Harry replied, his voice now calm as he leaned against the wall of her cell; glancing around, he sighed as he added, "Nice place, but I couldn't live here."
"Not like I have a choice," Harley argued, "That miserable pointy-eared rodent Bats made sure that your Daddy was lost and I couldn't do anything to fight him: when…I…when I lost you, I lost myself."
"Well I promise," Harry told her, stepping forwards and holding his Mother in his embrace, "You won't ever lose me again: we're going to finish what my Dad started and it all begins right now."
"How?" asked Harley, watching as Harry stepped back, his body appearing to shimmer before he answered her with a cackle that would have made his Daddy proud.
"Just play along Mother and we shall all get what we want."
"HEY BOZOS: WE GOT A DEAD BODY DOWN HERE!"
The guards of the Gotham State Penitentiary ran down towards the cell of Harley Quinn, both of them wondering how this former accomplice of the now dead Joker could recognise a dead body since she was alone in the Pen and in her cell. Arriving outside her cell, they reached for their stun batons and asked, "What are you talking about Quinn? There's no bodies here except your worthless hide!"
"Au contraire my police freres," a high-pitched voice laughed, the shadows then moving to reveal a figure that had both the guards trembling: purple suit, green tie, deathly pale face and green eyes that screamed death: the Joker was standing next to Harley, clearly alive and kicking. "There are about to be two new corpses around here, but, in the meantime," he reached under the cut of the suit and, as the guards went for their guns, Joker withdrew two playing cards, the Jack of Hearts and a Joker card, "I think this is your card!"
With expert precision and impossible skill, the Clown Prince of Crime threw the cards through the glass, the sharp-edged cards now cutting into the throats of the guards, but, instead of killing them, the cards seemed to be absorbed into the necks, just above the collarbone. When they were pulled into the skin, the guards lowered their guns, their collarbones now bearing marks that looked like the suits of the cards they'd been hit with.
"Bravo," Joker laughed, heaving a dramatic sigh as he explained, "I didn't think that would actually work: ah well, live and learn; now, my fine doughnut scoffing fellows, you're going to open the cell and let us out, aren't you?"
"Yes Master," the guards chorused, both of them moving to the control that opened the cell; triggering the devices that opened Harley's glass casing, the former assistant and private lover of the being at her side skipping through before Joker, passing the guards, stopped and turned back, shaking his head with a cold chuckle.
"Oh dear PC Plod," he laughed, "You really shouldn't have done that: you two belong in the prison that you just opened, don't you?"
"Yes Master," the guards replied, Joker and Harley watching as they entered the cell, the female jester-dressed criminal sealing them in as Joker, lowering his head, threw his arms out and laughed.
"And now for the punchline," he laughed, swiping his hand across his face, the slightly frightening look of the Joker vanishing to reveal a face that was not only younger, but less inclined to frighten guards than the Joker would have done. Harry Potter, from that day choosing to call himself Harrison Quinn, laughed again as he snapped his fingers, the suit markings on the guards necks suddenly being hit by two waves of electric shocks that sent them to the ground, jibbering in pain and shock as Harry, standing over the bodies, shook his head;
"Too easy…played you like a violin and cut your strings: Nighty-night boys!"
Then, with Harley skipping by her son's side, Harrison Quinn, the new Clown Prince of Crime, left the prison behind, both him and his Mother making their new life in homage to Harrison's Father with the one place that it all began;
And here is my first real attempt at a one-shot story, though I'm undecided as to whether or not to post a sequel that, as the challenge dictates, will be post the war and have more on this story;
In any attempt, I just hope you read and review this one-shot and if anyone would like to see a sequel, then say so;