Author's Note: No, I haven't died. Sorry to everyone who's been eagerly awaiting some updates on my other stories, but...well, I won't bore you with the details. Regardless, this is just something I've had knocking around for a very long time on my documents, and I don't want you all to come search me out and lynch me, so here it is.
Warning: This story assumes you've got basic knowledge of the Batman and Harry Potter franchises. However, both aspects of this crossover will be AU, in the case of HP, drastically. Also, Harry's kind of nuts. So...yeah.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING!
The Magical Marauder of Gotham
Batman could safely say that he had grown accustomed to strange and extraordinary by this point. He'd saved the world alongside and from aliens, taken down beings of apocalyptic magnitude, and seen things few could scarcely dream of. However, there was something inherently weird about two of his most dangerous enemies asking for his help.
Neither Pamela Isley nor Harleen Quinzel were what anyone would call 'quite right in the head' to use a more sympathetic vernacular. One was an eco-terrorist who got her kicks seducing men and feeding them to her carnivorous plants while the other was a former therapist who had years ago been in a loving relationship with the most psychotic clown in the universe. Once upon a time, the only thing these two had in common was a penchant for criminal activity and a pair of X chromosomes each.
That had changed, however, one cold winter's day about ten years ago. The world's greatest detective had never gotten a straight answer from the femme fatales, but from what he could piece together, a young boy had wandered into Poison Ivy's place of business while she was off on a stint in Arkham and played gardener until she busted out with the help of Harley Quinn. The pair of devious criminals had more or less adopted the child and given him a crash course in super villainy, then set him loose on the world as the Great Houdini and he'd become the biggest thorn in Batman's side ever since. Sure, he wasn't as intrinsically evil as some of the more infamous of his rogues, but the sheer chaos that kid could stir up was downright ridiculous, and there was no doubt he was as insane as the rest.
Unlike many of Batman's nemeses, Houdini was a meta-human, or at least a being with superhuman traits. The powers the boy exhibited were undeniably magical in nature, yet even Zatara could not fully divine the exact nature of his skill. Houdini had also found (or been given) a dose of Ivy's special serum, not only boosting his physical abilities but also granting immunity to most poisons and diseases. Neither he nor Pamela would answer Batman's question of whether or not they could sustain themselves via photosynthesis.
Despite all the trouble Houdini had caused Batman and Gotham City in general, however, Batman had been able to count Houdini as an ally on several different occasions, and Houdini had proven to be open to teaming up with the other superheroes when the situation called for it.
Batman could admit (silently, and to himself) that while Houdini could most assuredly be considered a dangerous criminal with a fondness for mayhem and property damage, he really kind of liked the kid. Yes, the boy was nuttier than squirrel leavings, and his weekly escapades were likely to send Commissioner Gordon to an early retirement, but there was an underlying current of goodness that just didn't seem to want to stay buried. Plus, there were more than a few times where Houdini could have killed Batman and his protegees, and while the same could be said for many of Gotham's gallery of goons, Houdini was the only one who'd let them go as soon as they knew they were completely at his mercy.
And now Batman stood in the shadows of a billboard with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, watching the lone figure sprawled across a stone gargoyle at the edge of the hotel roof causing multicolored sparks to dance in the air above him with wiggling fingers. The two women glanced worriedly at the boy every once in a while as they explained the situation.
"Poor kid's been like that since he got back for summer break," Harley said morosely (and what a strange sight that was).
"We've tried everything we could think of to cheer him up," added Ivy, running a hand through her hair listlessly.
"Well, not everything," began Harley, but Ivy shot her a venomous glare.
"I am not 'lezzing it up' in front of Ha-Houdini, so stop trying to make it happen," the redhead snapped. Batman ignored the banter, focusing instead on the near-slip from the botanist and filing it away for later perusal.
"Did he say what happened?" Batman asked tonelessly.
"Yeah," Harley answered, shooting a wary look from Ivy to Houdini. "Someone close to him was killed..." Batman fought back a wince beneath his cowl. Losing people was never easy, especially so young. Houdini could hardly be past his teen years, could he? "But there's something he ain't tellin' us, and it's eating away at him."
Batman raised an eyebrow at Quinn (it was easy to forget that this woman had earned her doctorate honestly) but didn't press her for more details.
"I'll talk to him," he said instead, and stalked forward. The figure lying on the gargoyle didn't move, or make any indication that he knew Batman was there, but Batman could tell Houdini was aware of him, and likely had been from the moment he'd landed on the rooftop.
Like most of Batman's foes, Houdini's costume was rather more flamboyant than someone in the criminal industry might normally wear. As was befitting of a magic-themed supervillain, Houdini wore a tattered black hat with a wide brim that nearly hid a domino mask, and a silvery cloak that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Batman knew from past experience that each of these was a potent magic artifact; the Hat had a consciousness of its own (and was rather snarky in its own right) while the Cloak granted complete invisibility and a mild sound-dampening effect to boot. The domino mask cast what Zatara called a glamour charm that distorted Houdini's face from every type of surveillance equipment possible, including the human eye. Beneath the Cloak was something suspiciously similar to a Gotham S.W.A.T. uniform, besides the marigold accents and piping, and the stylish H embroidered across the chest. With a twinge of annoyance, Batman realized Houdini had added what appeared to be a canary-yellow utility belt to his ensemble, and that it was probably more efficient than his own thanks to magic.
As he drew level, Houdini sat up, one leg dangling off the gargoyle while the other pulled up so he could rest his chin on his knee.
"Howdy, Bats," he said, tipping his hat jauntily. "I see Gotham hasn't burned down in my absence."
"Houdini," Batman returned quietly. "Your surrogate mothers are worried."
"So they sent for the Big Bad Bat?" Houdini asked, then grinned. "And you actually came, too. You really do care."
"What happened?"
"Oh, the usual," the boy waved a hand casually as if to shoo away any concern. "Resurrected sociopaths trying to kill me, manipulative do-gooders trying to shoehorn me into a role for 'the greater good.' You know the routine."
Batman had been treated to an abridged version of Houdini's antics during the school year (including, if the stories were true, defending an honest-to-God Philosopher's Stone from a half-dead wraith, killing a sixty-meter snake with an ancient jewel-encrusted sword, saving his convict godfather from a one-way ticket to soullessness, and winning a blood-sport tournament for children), so he had a brief understanding about what went on at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Secretly, he was relieved to know that it wasn't just him who had difficulties with Houdini; apparently, a man called Snape had a few issues with the Magical Marauder of Gotham as well.
"Houdini," Batman growled in that no-nonsense tone he normally used when Dick was being particularly recalcitrant.
"I'm not Bird-Brain, Batty," Houdini said with a warning in his voice. "Speaking of, where is the good old Boy Wonder? Off doing mission-type things down by the bay?"
"Look, Houdini," Batman began. Most people, super or otherwise, believed that Batman was a hard-ass wrapped in bastard with a gravel filling, but the truth was the Dark Knight was just a man trying his best to make sure no one was forced to become like him, and seeing Houdini hiding his pain behind a smirk and catty remarks struck quite the chord in him.
"Look," he said again. "You might not believe this, but I wasn't always this...well, this," he gestured vaguely at himself. "I lost the people I cared for the most when I was very young. I believe you might be able to relate."
Houdini snorted, but stayed silent otherwise.
"Ivy and Harley told me someone important to you died-"
"He was killed," Houdini interrupted. "There's a slight difference." Batman waited a moment, and was rewarded by a gusty sigh. "Padfoot was KIA, in June." Padfoot, Batman knew, was Houdini's godfather, wrongly accused of selling out Houdini's parents and left to rot for twelve years in a magical prison.
Padfoot had actually stayed in Gotham for a year or so, trying (and failing) to woo the women of the seedy city's criminal element, and Batman wasn't surprised to find himself mourning the shapeshifter. He'd been crass and terrible at keeping a low profile (not to mention he'd shamelessly hit on Selina at every opportunity), but the man had definitely been one of the 'Good Guys'.
"Do you know who did it?" Batman asked.
"His cousin, name of Bellatrix Lestrange." Houdini flicked his wand and an illusory face swam into existence, presumably that of Padfoot's killer. Despite the situation, Batman was impressed; the quality was better than most of the League's hologram technology.
"The Batcave might be able to track her down through facial recognition..." Batman offered, but Houdini gave a hard jerk of his head.
"That won't be necessary." Houdini's tone had become icy, which was very disconcerting for Batman; the mage was normally quite jovial and affable.
Before Batman could inquire after Bellatrix, Harley had moved forward. "Harry, what happened?" she asked with a pleading note to her voice. She reached out and braced Houdini's shoulders as Ivy stepped past Batman as well, cradling the boy's head like a caring mother would her son.
It was moments like these Batman truly remembered that his enemies were just as human as he was.
For a while, it seemed as though Houdini wouldn't answer.
Then...
"I tortured her," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I tortured her until she couldn't scream anymore, and the only reason she's still alive is because a better man than I will ever be stopped me."
"What was the method of torture?" Batman inquired, trying to see this from a clinical perspective.
"Cruciatus curse," Houdini mumbled. "No defense except solid barriers. It activates all your pain receptors at once, and you'll feel the worst pain imaginable until the caster releases the spell. Only drawback is you need to really hate the target to use it, and if it's held long enough, the victim will go insane."
Batman felt no shame in admitting his terror at even the thought of such a curse existing. And for a teenager to be able to utilize such a thing...
"Who stopped ya, puddin'?" Harley asked, carding her fingers through Houdini's unruly hair.
"Nev," Houdini said, a fond smile ghosting across his lips before a frown took its place. "That bitch used the same curse to torture his parents into insanity, and he was still man enough to keep me from finishing her." He let out a shaky breath. "What sort of person does that make me?"
Batman knew there was hope for this young man in that moment. If there had to be a villain with that sort of power at their fingertips, at least Houdini had a conscience. The very fact that he was questioning himself for using it proved that beyond any shadow of a doubt.
"And that is why you are nothing like Voldemort," a croaky voice muttered. The first time Batman had heard it, he'd only just managed not to drop his jaw in amazement. It was still disconcerting to see a hat talk through its ripped brim, but he was at least used to it by now.
The Sorting Hat of Hogwarts had apparently been stolen ("Liberated, you daft man-bat!") at the end of Houdini's first year at the magic school, having convinced the young mage that he'd be a good addition to his wardrobe, a claim proven time and again by not only keeping eyes (or however the blasted piece of cloth was able to perceive the world) on Houdini's back, but also somehow having the ability to sense when someone was lying or not just by being on their head. It probably had more functions, but those were the only ones Batman had been able to confirm.
"For now," Houdini said darkly. "I doubt Riddle was always as fucked in the head as he is now."
"I can assure you he was," Hat retorted snidely. "A thousand scrubbings couldn't wash the taint out of me after I Sorted that monster."
"Regardless, I tortured someone with dark magic," Houdini proclaimed bluntly. "We can talk about extenuating circumstances and how she deserved it until we're blue in the face, but it doesn't excuse the fact. The Cruciatus is classified as one of the Unforgivable Curses; I broke the law."
"Er, honeysuckle, you're a professional criminal," Ivy said awkwardly.
"Yeah, ya break a dozen laws for breakfast," Harley added, trying to lighten the mood.
"You don't understand," Houdini sighed. "The Unforgivables are three curses that will land you a one-way ticket to Azkaban if you use any of them just once on a human. The Killing Curse was originally a humane way of slaughtering animals that was corrupted and perverted to work on humans by severing the anchor between body and soul. The Imperius Curse lets you control someone's mind absolutely; it's almost impossible to break free of. There are laws that you can break whenever the hell you want, and then there are laws that no one should ever break. Ever."
The vehemence of Houdini's argument told Batman that these Unforgivables had played quite the role in the boy's life.
"Someone used them on you, didn't they?" Batman more stated than asked.
Houdini's insanely green eyes turned to him before he nodded. "Voldemort on all three counts. Cruciatus and Imperius last year, and the Killing Curse, well..." He glanced at Batman, then reluctantly took off his domino mask. Batman refrained from scrutinizing the thin, boyish face and instead studied the lightning-bolt scar across Houdini's forehead.
"As it happens," Houdini said, speaking more to Harley and Ivy than Batman, "there was a prophecy made a little bit before I was born that basically said Voldemort's bane was coming soon. There were enough clues given in the prophecy to point the bastard to my family. He killed my mum and dad, and then tried to kill me with the last Unforgivable, or first technically, I guess." He ignored Harley's enraged gasp, "Anyway, it backfired for some reason and he was turned into that stupid wraith thing that came back ten years later to go after the Stone."
"So, he's gonna come after you again and again until one of you's dead?" Harley asked after some silence as the adults digested the information.
"Pretty much," agreed Houdini heavily.
"Right." Harley pulled out a phone and began dialing. "Hey, Mister Jay? Yeah, it's me. Listen, I got a favor to ask. How d'ya feel about merry old England?"
A few minutes of inane chatter later, and Harley hung up, then started calling someone else.
"Harley, what are you doing?" Ivy asked, though from the look on her face the botanist seemed to have at least an inkling.
"What d'ya think I'm doing?" Harley growled. "I'm gettin' together a posse so we can take this punk down once and for all." She snapped her fingers at Batman, who blinked. "You, make yourself useful and call your Super Friends or whatever ya call yourselves. We've got a psychopath to murder."
Batman really didn't think this Voldemort was worth calling on the Justice League for help, but one or two members wouldn't hurt, if only to keep the villains Harley was calling in favors from in line (and once this was all over, he was going to ask just how she knew Talia Al Ghul).
Before he left to make the arrangements, however, he pulled Houdini to the side, making sure Harley and Ivy were otherwise occupied.
"Since you revealed your secrets to me, I figure I should return the favor," he said, removing the cowl. "I'm Bruce Wayne."
Houdini nodded, almost to himself. "I'd sort of figured as much. Not too many in Gotham with the means to run around as the Dark Knight. This proves it, though." The teen mage held out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne. I'm Harry Potter."
Bruce gripped the offered hand. "There's more, though. It's something that's kept me up at night. Before I used Batman to mete out justice, he was a vehicle for my vengeance. My parents were murdered when I was a boy, and I spent most of my life up to that point trying to find out who did it. When I finally figured it out, I donned the cape and started harassing the man. He was a low-level crime boss, and I would take out his thugs, ruin drug deals, anything to mess up his operations. Then I started tailing him, staying just close enough that he was aware of me. He started getting paranoid, making too many mistakes and he lost all his business and employees. Two months after I set out to destroy Joe Chill's life, he committed suicide."
Harry's eyes became rounder as the story came out, one he'd only told two people in his entire life.
"I watched as he tied his own noose and when his feet stopped dancing," Bruce said solemnly, making sure Harry was able to make the connections. "I relished watching him choke out his last breath. And then, that night, I started hating myself. I knew that my parents would have been sickened by what I had done, and so I began my crusade against crime, always going for non-lethal attacks, never using firearms when I could help it, assisting police whenever I could."
"Was it enough?" Harry asked, looking his age for the first time in all the years they had known one another. "To make up for driving Chill to kill himself, I mean."
"No," Bruce admitted. "It will never be enough. Not for me, anyway. But a friend of mine recently told me that just feeling so horrible about what I've done proves that I still have a heart in here somewhere."
Harry looked down at his boots for a while, then back up at Bruce. "I think...I think I understand." He offered Bruce that lopsided grin of his that no glamour could hide. "Thanks, Bruce. I'm sort of glad my mums called you up."
"I am, too." Then the cowl was back on and his grappling hook in hand. "Now, I've got some calls of my own to make. We'll take down this Voldemort, and then we'll talk about something I've been meaning to bring up with you for a while."
As he swung his way back to the Bat Cave, Batman wondered just how Robin might react to having his arch nemesis on the same team.
After-Action Report: So, there you have it. For the moment, this will only be a one-shot Elseworlds-style story. It may change later on (see the ending I did left it open? I'm so cunning, it's retarded), but for now, that's all it is.
Obviously, I've read all those stories where Harry gets dumped in Gotham and raised by Ivy and Harley, and I loved them all, even the ones with shitty grammar (like I'm one to talk, right?). If I pick this back up, I'll go into a bit more detail on the specifics at some point. Harry's first conscious acts of magic were Apparition, which is where he got his Great Houdini moniker, and the rest just sort of came naturally to him.
The reason the magical governments aren't up his ass about underage magic is because Gotham is so full of crazy bullshit that the magicals just sort of washed their hands of the insane muggle city a long time ago, what with the rise of the Supers.
If you hadn't guessed by the super suit, Harry's in Hufflepuff (as if he could be anything else). Um, questions and comments are appreciated, favorite and follows adored, and I suppose I'll see you when I see you!