Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Short version, if you recognize it from someplace else, it's not mine.
Author's Note: In one of the comments (which I thank you for), I was told that this is a crack fic. I didn't think that was right, since I was staying pretty true to the Harley Quinn cartoon. Then, I realized that the Harley Quinn cartoon is a crack fic of the rest of the DC Universe, and it all made so much more sense. Any fanfic of a crack!canon is automatically a crackfic. Anyway, onto the mayhem.
September 1 - Hogwarts Staff Meeting
"And that concludes the staff meeting, unless there are any additional topics that cannot wait until next week's meeting," McGonagall announced using the tone of her voice to make sure everyone knew she would be displeased if anyone said anything else.
It had been a long three hours of slogging through staff introductions, lesson plan summaries, housing arrangements, patrol schedules, dietary requests, and a dozen other topics that had to be figured out before the Hogwarts Express even left the station. That was in addition to Snape's rant about Harry Potter and Quirrell's constant stuttering. Unfortunately, after this general meeting, the headmaster and the deputy headmistress would have to have another meeting between the two of them to discuss additional details for the year that did not concern the staff and teachers at large.
In recent years, their personal meetings had been getting more and more erratic, mostly due to the Headmaster's strange behavior and near-obsession/aversion with the Potter child. Given that Dumbledore was the boy's magical guardian and Harry's celebrity status, it made sense for him to take an interest in the boy, but this was something more. The Headmaster had taken guardianship of dozens of orphans after the war, but only retained guardianship of Harry.
Deputy Headmistress McGonagall shook her head to clear the extranious thoughts. It wouldn't do for her to lose focus so close to the end of this Morgana-forsaken meeting.
"I would like to request again that I be exorcised and be sent into the great beyond," Professor Binns intoned in a boring monotone only achieved by decades of practice.
"Request denied," interjected Dumbledore jovially. "I would like to remind you that you are the one who pushed to have tenure. Your contract states you will teach until you are unable to, and I am pleased to report that you are still able to teach."
"That's debatable," Professor Babbling muttered to the amusement of many. As the youngest of the professors, she had the most recent memories of the ghost's teaching style.
"If there is nothing else, I daresay it is time to rest ourselves before the students arrive," Dumbledore determined, closing the meeting with a clap of his hands. "Enjoy the remaining peace and quiet."
The group dispersed quickly, each wanting to complete a variety of last minute tasks before the unruly horde of magical spawn descended on the castle. They all knew there was only a few hours left. Within minutes, the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress were alone with only Fawkes the Phoenix to chaperone.
"So, Minerva, it is a new year, and thus there must be new targets," Dumbledore nonchalantly spoke, ignoring the annoyed twitch of McGonagall's eye. "Have you chosen?"
"This tradition of yours is unhealthy, Albus," McGonagall insisted angrily, though Dumbledore did not seem concerned. "Must you do this every year?"
"Yes, my dear, I must, and it is a tradition that extends back to the founding of Hogwarts itself. If you ascend to my position of Headmaster one day, which I truly hope you do, you will understand," Dumbledore shrugged. "Now, you know the rules. You, as the Deputy, choose my targets. I, as the Headmaster, execute my task. If you don't choose, I will have to and I might go a little overboard."
"Given your preoccupation with him, I'm afraid you would choose young Harry Potter," McGonagall glowered. She contained the smirk that threatened to appear on her face when the Headmaster flinched at the name of the Boy-Who-Lived. She didn't know why, but starting two years ago Albus had an aversion to any mention of Harry, his living situation, or really anything dealing with the son of James and Lily. She used it to great effect when Albus got a little too eccentric.
"Now, now, Minerva, choosing him would likely lead to another 1975 Noodle Incident," Dumbledore chided after composing himself, his testicles giving off a phantom pain at the name of Potter. "You are stalling."
Knowing that was true, McGonagall sighed in defeat. She knew that if she didn't choose, Dumbledore would likely go overboard, like in 1983. That lead to more chaos than giving the Weasley Twins a free pass from detention.
"Very well, if I must," McGonagall conceded reluctantly, as she did every year. "You may prank Nymphadora Tonks, Marcus Flint, Penelope Clearwater, and Thaddius Dillum. Four students, one from each house, all fifth years. You may target only those four for the duration of the school year, but you shall not do anything that would affect them taking their OWLs at the end of the year. That means from April until after the OWLs, you must do nothing to them."
"Interesting choices," Dumbledore mused. "Why them, if you don't mind telling?"
"Flint because he is the Slytherin quidditch captain and I want them to lose," McGonagall admitted without any shame. "Clearwater and Dillum are both on track to be head girl and head boy, and this would be a good test of their ability to handle the stress of the position along with important exams. Miss Tonks has shown an interest in becoming an auror, and Alastor has asked me to keep an eye on her this year to see if she has what it takes to apprentice under him."
"He did?" Dumbledore asked, surprised. An apprenticeship under Alastor Moody would let the girl become an auror in a year instead of three. That or kill her. "I assume you would like me to instill in her the importance of constant vigilance?"
"I have no wish for her to die during one of Alastor's surprise attacks," McGonagall clarified. "Like with Clearwater and Dillum, this will see what she is made of."
"I think you have chosen exceptionally well," Dumbledore complemented.
"I am glad you approve," McGonagall retorted sarcastically. "Now that that is out of the way, do you mind telling me why the ever-magical fuck you want to place a fucking cerberus in our fucking school with fucking children?"
The Hogwarts Express was magical. There was no other way to put it.
Not magical like Sensei 'Tana or anything, since it was just a brightly colored train and not a no-nonsense tutor in fishnet stockings, but the air surrounding it smelled of mystery and adventure and magical opportunity. Harry could hardly contain his excitement. He was going to Hogwarts.
The danger, the challenges, the potential for life-threatening action.
Everything that he craved from the stories he heard about his parents life before they adopted him.
He would live up to his legacy. He knew Mommy Harley and Mama Pammy weren't his real parents or relatives, but they raised him and he loved them. He was a bit fuzzier on who Vernon and Petunia were, but he'd figure it out when he cared enough to. Of James and Lily Potter, he knew very little, not where it really counted. Stories told in books weren't the same as stories told by friends. Hearing Uncle Sharky talk about his moms' past didn't come close to reading the Gotham newspapers he acquired from questionable sources.
He read the books about That Night, that Halloween night ten years ago. Most was speculation, but there was enough truth buried in the tomes that Harry wondered how his life got to be the way it was. What really happened the night Voldemort killed his mother and father?
"Excuse me," a bushy haired girl squeaked as they accidentally bumped into each other. "Sorry, I was just looking at the Express and couldn't help but wonder where they acquired it since it is muggle design."
"Stole it, most likely," Harry shrugged at her babble. "Parents not here?"
The girl shook her head over-vigorously, cheeks tinting pink as she spoke.
"They couldn't get through the barrier," she admitted hesitantly. "I'm Hermione."
"Harry. So, you're muggle-raised like me," Harry grinned. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only one. Have you tried any spells yet?"
"Of course not," Hermione huffed. "It's against the rules."
"Rules are made to be broken," Harry muttered, the happy feeling he had had leaving him. If Hermione was a big follower of rules, she would likely not be on board with the villainy he would undoubtedly be getting into.
"Not broken, manipulated," Hermione clarified conspiratorially, and the happy feeling returned. "Casting spells with a wand is explicitly forbidden outside school for underage children. Potion brewing requires no wand, and was not mentioned in the introductory material. Care to try a sip of Confidence Elixir? I finished brewing it myself just yesterday."
Harry declined with a shake of his head, to which Hermione shrugged and drank a swig of the vial she had pulled out of her pockets.
"Well, Harry, I guess I'll see you on the train," Hermione smiled before marching towards the train, more sure of herself than previously. In fact, she was more sure of herself than she had ever been in her life.
Harry made a note to seek her out once they got settled at Hogwarts. He had a feeling they would get along swimmingly.
Daphne Wednesday Greengrass had hoped the weather would match her mood on the trip from London to Hogsmeade. Sadly, she was disappointed. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the temperature was warm, with only a slight breeze that caused butterflies to flitter about.
It was terrible.
Daphne sat on the train alternating between sharpening her favorite disembowelment knife and practicing writing an explosive rune. Written on parchment, the rune would simply burn up in a flash when activated. In a more sturdy medium, like copper or glass, one could end up losing their limb. A properly drawn explosive rune etched in polished 10-carot diamond could level a house protected by an exceptional ward scheme. Sadly she had only been able to successfully carve one on topaz, the results of which had removed a pesky door-to-door salesman.
"What's wrong, Daphne?" Tracey asked from across the compartment. "You haven't pulled out your sister's voodoo doll once. You always break at least one of her limbs within the first ten minutes of being away from her, just to let her know you're thinking of her."
"I suppose I am nervous," Daphne admitted with a beleaguered sigh. "The idea of mixing with idiotic peasants struggling to master the arcane arts unsettles me. Other children are the worst distraction to learning."
"That's fucking harsh. What about me?"
Daphne thought for a moment before answering. "I find you, tolerable."
"High praise indeed," Tracey smirked sarcastically, knowing full well that 'tolerable' was actually a great compliment when it came from Daphne. "Who knows, you might make another friend."
"I wonder how many will have to perish before that happens," Daphne pondered. "I never did get an answer about where the closest graveyard was to the school. If there is one on the grounds, I could make a friend easily during the next lightning storm."
Tracey let out an involuntary shutter at the casual allusion to necromancy, Daphne's tenth birthday party was still too fresh in her mind not to. Her cousin, and the source of Daphne's middle name, had made an appearance, and Tracey would never look at bunnies or squirrels the same way again.
"Daphne, and I mean this with the utmost respect, don't fucking raise a fucking zombie during your first year," Tracey pleaded passionately before turning to the cold logic she knew ruled her friend. "If you do, you'll be kicked out and I'll have to deal with the morons all by myself. Some self-restraint now will allow you to psychologically terrorize them for seven years."
"I only need one year to scar them for life," Daphne stated. For anyone else, it would be bragging. For Daphne, it was a statement of fact. It was probably modesty, since Tracey has seen her take only fifteen minutes to destroy the spirit of a snooty shop assistant to the point they had to be taken to St. Mungo's to recover.
"But that would be giving up a target rich environment for six years," Tracey countered.
"I suppose you are right," Daphne agreed. "The slow flay takes more talent than the quick decapitation, and is more satisfying in the end."
Reassured that she would have her friend for at least most of her school career, assuming there was a convenient place at Hogwarts to hide any corpses Daphne might 'discover', Tracey pulled out a drawing notebook and turned to a blank page. It was her way of relaxing. She looked around to find inspiration, mentally discarding Daphne, her blades, and the countryside passing by. She needed something different, something new, something fresh. Tracey looked out the compartment door's window and saw a boy her age walking by.
Dark hair, green eyes, and a mischievous look on his face. There was a faint scar on his forehead, making her wonder if it was Harry Potter, but she saw the images from the newspaper several weeks ago, when the Boy-Who-Lived was brutally attacked in front of Gringotts, and Harry Potter had bright red hair and the lightning bolt scar was much more pronounced, so it couldn't be him. Likely a coincidence or a fanboy. She herself had drawn a scar on her forehead when she was younger and played 'Heroes and Villains' with her other friends. Had she tried to play that with Daphne, whoever played the hero would have ended up drawn and quartered by Greengrass lion pride.
Tracey only saw him through the compartment window for a moment, but her eidetic memory allowed her to capture it in her mind, which would allow her to transfer his face onto the paper in front of her. She chose charcoal as her medium.
While Tracey began to draw, Daphne put away the doll of her sister.
Hundreds of miles away, Astoria tripped down the stairs. Her femur suddenly and inexplicably shattered, with a large section of bone sticking out of her leg. The youngest Greengrass smiled as she began to bleed out, knowing her sister really was missing her. She'd have to remember to throw her own voodoo doll of Daphne into a bowl of water later that night. If she timed it right, it would be in the middle of the Welcome Feast. But first, she needed to get some healing.
Susan Bones handed out the cookies she baked with her aunt the day before to all of the students seated in her train compartment, six in total including herself.
"I'm so excited to start Hogwarts, finally," Susan gushed as the others enjoyed the baked treats. "My aunt says magic is a big responsibility."
"I just hope I don't flub the spells," Hannah worried out loud, giving voice to the fears of several present. "If I can't even get my wand to light up, I'd feel like a failure."
"You won't be a failure," reassured Susan. "It's just like anything worth doing. We'll be bad at it at first, and we'll keep on messing up and messing up. I expect to make lots of mistakes and accidents before I can cast my first spell. That's why we're going to Hogwarts, to learn. We'll grow into our magic, if we put in the effort. Nobody is perfect the first time around."
The mood in the compartment, which had been headed towards gloomy, brightened considerably at Susan's encouragement. They spent most of the train ride chatting and joking and playing games (except Megan Jones who was happily answering the nonstop questions of a muggleborn boy with them). They only had two interruptions. The first was two cute boys looking for a lost toad.
The second was Theodore Nott.
"Well, well, what do we have here," Nott mocked as he opened the compartment door without knocking or invitation. "Looks like a bunch of losers and squibs."
"That wasn't very nice," Susan frowned. "You should apologize."
"For what, telling the truth?" Nott barked out, laughing. "Tell you what, I'll pull an apology out of my butt when I say something that isn't true. Saying you all smell of weakness and desperation is just a fact."
"If you aren't going to say you're sorry, you should leave then," Susan demanded with a squeaky voice, arms folded with all the defiance the eleven year old could muster.
"Why should I leave, this looks like a good compartment to stay in. I think you bunch of waste of space should be the ones to leave. It only makes sense to make room for your betters."
"We're not going anywhere," Hannah yelled. "You are."
"Let's not cause a scene," Susan cautioned, seeing the fear in the eyes of the others in the room. A confrontation wouldn't do any of them any good. "There's another empty compartment down the train. I saw it when I went to use the loo."
With a victorious smirk, Nott grabbed an uneaten cookie out of the hands of the same boy that was asking Megan questions earlier. He took a big bite, then spit it out on the floor.
"That's disgusting. Did you dig these out of the toilet after you went to the loo?"
For a brief moment, Nott was proud of the impromptu insult he'd come up with. Then he locked eyes with Susan Bones.
In that moment, he knew he fucked up.
"Listen you weasel-fucking assbag, those cookies were made using my own family recipe passed down for generations. You must be so fucking used to shoving the gutter sewage your bedswerver hag of a mother makes you into your slobbering gob that anything with flavor must taste like your mum's crusty old farts to your atrophied taste buds. So why don't you take your rakefire ass out of here, find an empty fucking compartment, open the goddamn window, and do the fucking world a motherfucking favor and throw your stymphalist meatsack onto the fucking railroad tracks where you might actually fucking accomplish something with your shitty pathetic life by greasing the wheels of the train, you cum-stained twat."
By the end, Nott was skittering out of the compartment, nearly on his hands and feet. Susan stormed over to the door, slammed it shut, and took a breath. When she turned around, she was smiling just as sweetly as before.
"Oh, I just remembered my auntie packed some scones. Who wants one?"
"I heard Harry Potter is somewhere on this train, have you seen him?" came the smarmy introduction from the compartment door. It was a blonde haired boy bookended by two gorillas in robes. "Oh, Longbottom, you actually have enough magic to go to Hogwarts? I'm surprised. Are you sure it wasn't a mistake, or are you just hiring yourself out as a porter to those with magical talent?"
Harry looked over to his newest friend, Neville Longbottom, and saw him shrink into himself. Harry had immediately discarded Neville as a candidate for his crew, on account of his low self-esteem and timid nature, but he wasn't going to let a two-bit bully get an inch in his presence. He had a reputation to earn.
"I'm Harry Potter," Harry announced to the shock of everyone. "I see you already know my friend, Neville."
"Harry Potter has red hair," Neville sputtered out, incapable of reconciling the fact that the famous Boy-Who-Lived would have spent his first train ride helping him look for Trevor, his lost toad (who was still missing), when he could have been in any of the 'cool' compartments. Harry could have even sat next to a girl, a feat Neville was sure, if he attempted himself, would end in him breaking out in hives.
"I heard that too, not sure where that rumor started," Harry fibbed easily. "Who are you?"
"Draco Malfoy," Draco reflexively announced with pride in his voice. "These two are Crabbe and Goyle. I can help you find better friends than Neville. He's a bit of a dullard and prone to accidents."
"Ahh, this must be a custom in the wizarding world, where when two wizards meet they insult and offer veiled threats to the other's companions and friends," Harry exclaimed as if he found one of the mysteries of the universe. "I guess it's only polite to participate. I'm assuming the most subtle one wins?"
"W-what?" Draco stuttered, uncertain what exactly was going on.
"Perfect. You two spawn of Grodd could make a living as stand-ins for caryatid columns. If you ask nicely, I can arrange a full cast for you two, in order to make sure they get the best likeness. Your turn."
"You can't threaten me," Draco snarled. "My father will hear about this."
"I wasn't, and you don't have to let me win. I know in a battle of wits you are at a severe disadvantage. Oh, let me get that bug in your hair."
At his last words, Harry whipped out his trusty and well used switchblade and deftly opened it as he stabbed towards Draco's head. As it passed millimeters from his ear, slicing off a lock of blonde hair, Draco let out a squeak and scurried out of the compartment and down the train.
"Huh, I guess I lost points on subtly," Harry grinned maniacally, causing Neville's eyes to widen and his mind to wonder what he had gotten himself into when he asked for Harry's help to find his lost toad.
Tonks leaned back and relaxed. The summer had been rough, with her parents nagging her about her choices and her name and her clothes and her hair color and her friends and her dates and her leisure activities and her diet and her career options and her, well she couldn't think of anything else but that didn't mean they didn't nag her about it too.
She knew her OWLs were this year, but she always did well with tests so she wasn't too worried about them. All in all, it should be a nice, relaxing year at Hogwarts.
She had forgotten what the sorting hat had told her, exactly 5 years ago to the day, about her fifth year. She would soon remember.
Hogwarts was magical. There was no other way to put it.
It was magical just like Sensei 'Tana was magical, just like he was magical. Ghosts and moving carriages and enchanted boats. Harry could hardly contain his excitement. He was finally at Hogwarts.
As the man as big as Uncle Sharkie magically guided the boats to castle, Harry couldn't help but feel the wonder and excitement that he could see on the faces of the other children. That settled one of the biggest concerns he had about coming to Hogwarts.
He knew he was messed up.
He was raised by two villains. He knew their history, he secretly looked up all the bad stuff they used to do. He knew about Gotham, and the Joker, and Kiteman, and everything. The murders and mayham. He knew he and his cousin weren't raised as normal kids, even accounting for his magic. Normal kids didn't spar with members of the Justice League.
He had a fear, buried deep down in him, that he wouldn't connect with his classmates, that he would be some soulless void that sucked in everything around him and only spat out shit. One of his mom's ran the most ruthless gang during Gotham's darkest hour a decade ago. His other mom was Poison Fucking Ivy. He knew they loved him, but that didn't mean they didn't psychologically fuck him up when they raised him.
But he felt the wonder too. He felt the excitement and nervousness that he knew the other kids felt. That gave him hope that things, while they wouldn't be normal, would be manageable. He could fit in.
They were led up a thematically appropriate staircase and was greeted by an old woman who looked like she could eat coal and shit diamonds. She took them into an antechamber that felt like it belonged in a magical castle and explained the four houses, what they stood for, and what was expected of them during their education there.
"I will now lead you into the Great Hall, where you will line up single file. I have a list of all your names, in order of the date of your first significant use of magic. Some think the earlier you are on the list, the more powerful you are. This is folly. I was last. Your headmaster was in the middle. There is no correlation between where you are on the list and your magical potential. What will affect your magic is the hard work, studying, practice, and dedication you demonstrate while here at Hogwarts. Remember that. Now, follow me."
If Harry thought the antechamber was impressive, it was nothing compared to the Great Hall.
Enchanted ceiling, check.
Floating candles, check.
Ghosts and poltergeists and possibly a goblin teacher, check, check, and check.
After a unique song by the self-proclaimed Sorting hat, it wasn't surprising when Harry's name was called first. From what Harry had read, most accidental magic didn't happen until the kid was three, with some as late as nine years old like Neville. He had read his own biography. He knew there was magic involved when his birth parents died. He knew Voldemort tried to kill him, and that he didn't die when she tried. The rest of the book was a load of bullshit, but there was some undeniable facts buried under all the conjecture. When he was little over a year old, he somehow performed significant magic enough to survive the Dark Lady herself.
Harry walked over to the stool where the Sorting Hat lay, wishing he had some of Hermione's illicit Confidence Elixer, though he wasn't convinced it wasn't just high proof alcohol. Too late now, by any means. The hat covered his eyes, and the world went dark.
He didn't see the hat glow bright pink for a moment. The other first-year students didn't know it wasn't supposed to glow. The older students thought it was odd, but figured it was something to do with the Boy-Who-Lived (but who didn't look anything like the pictures taken of him before he was attacked in Diagon Alley). The staff looked concerned, especially the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, since the Sorting Hat wasn't supposed to glow. The Headmaster was terrified, knowing that the glow was evidence of magical tampering of an artifact. Every mage capable of tampering with an magical artifact knew the apocalyptic stupidity of tampering with a magical artifact. The fate of Atlantis was a potent lesson.
On the scale of zero to complete cataclysmic destruction, what happened next was on the better end of the scales, though Dumbledore knew it would be problematic to deal with.
"Harry Potter," the sorting hat shouted for all to hear before taking a dramatic pause. "Is sorted into the new Awesome House of Harem."
The hall was stunned into silence, which meant that everyone clearly heard when a certain fifth year metamorphmagus remembered her own sorting, when the hat told her that in her fifth year she would be moving to a different, new house.
"Motherfucking piece of shit," Tonks yelled before quieting down. The hall then exploded into whispers, giving her some anonymity for the rest of her rant. "My fucking mother just had to give me a shitty family name, didn't she. Well, I guess the joke's on her. Bloody hell, this must be a fucking nightmare I'm living in. House Harem, what a fucking joke."
Though she didn't know it, she wasn't the only student the sorting hat said those words to.
Professor McGonagall turned to look at the Tonks girl when she shouted, then glared at Dumbledore when the rest of the school erupted. She would have suspected this might be one of his pranks, but he didn't have a face that could bluff to her. His shock, fear, and confusion was as obvious as the hatred and jealousy on Professor Snape's face. No, the Headmaster didn't have anything to do with this obvious prank.
Sadly, as the sorting continued, so too did the prank.
Harry wasn't the only one to be sorted into the newly establish Awesome House of Harem.
The Weasley twins, knew they would have to up their game significantly in order to compete with the chaos of the Welcoming Feast.
April 1, Ten Years Prior, Headmaster office of Hogwarts
"It's, it's a lot to take in," James Potter sighed after Dumbledore finished reciting the prophecy. "Out little Harry, destined for that. What kind of life will he have?"
"With luck and effort, a normal one," Dumbledore shrugged. "I know you have resisted going under the fidelius charm, but I must urge you to reconsider. You-Know-Who has redoubled her efforts, and already three of the false trails you have laid have been destroyed. It is only a matter of time until your current hiding place is exposed."
"Give us a few minutes alone to discuss this," Lily requested, carefully rocking her sleeping son in her arms. "Alone."
Dumbledore nodded and, with a wave of his wand, froze the former headmasters and headmistresses' portraits. With only a pleading glance, he retreated from his own office to take care of some school business while the parents of the future Savior of the Wizarding World came to terms with their son's dire fate.
"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" James began. "Sirius for the secret keeper?"
"He is the obvious choice," Lily conceded. "He would die before giving anything up. Even if he was a traitor, the protectorus ritual we did will keep Harry alive should we die. My concern is what will happen to Harry after that, should the worst happen. He wouldn't be safe in the wizarding world, and none of my relatives are fit to raise him with his magic."
"What about the Parentus Nuvo ritual?" James suggested. "It'll put Harry where he'll be taken care of, should the worst happen."
"At some point, we really should learn the actual names of these rituals we're using," Lily added. "It's bad enough we're taking them from an old dusty tome from the restricted section of your family library, but bastardizing Latin to name them just seems wrong."
"It's a wizarding tradition," James joked with mock snobbishness, with Lily giggling with him. The stress of the situation made laughing preferable to crying. "Intention plus wand waving plus bastardized Latin makes magic go boom. Watch this."
Pulling out his wand, Lily couldn't stop laughing as he pointed it at the inert Sorting Hat on the shelf.
"James," Lily struggled to say through the laughter. "Wh-What are y-you doing?"
"Sort-us Harry-dus into-um Awesome-us House-em of-im Harem-a," James laughingly cast.
Both parents stopped laughing when a bright pink spell actually shot out of James' wand and hit the Sorting Hat, causing it to briefly glow pink as well.
"Did you?" Lily began before Dumbledore burst into the office.
"You-Know-Who has destroyed another of your safe houses," Dumbledore relayed breathlessly. "Fenwick has died, tortured. You must use the fidilius quickly, please."
Lily and James gasped in shock at the news. If Fenwick had said anything to Voldemort, and there was a distinct possibility they had, none of their safe houses were safe anymore. They nodded to each other before turning to Dumbledore.
"We'll do it. There is a cottage in Godric Hollow that will work," Lily answered Dumbledore's plea. "Small enough for a fidelius to cover, large enough that we can survive for years. We can raise Harry to fulfill his destiny, if this prophecy is actually what we think it is. We'll use Sirius as our secret keeper, and I'll cast the spell myself."
"Very well," Dumbledore sighed in relief. "I shall send Sirius a message to get in contact with you. Good luck."
After the young family went through the floo to their current safehouse to pack the essentials, Lily turned to her husband.
"You know we'll have to get the Sorting Hat fixed, right?"
"We have a decade before it'll come up, I'm sure whatever I did will wear off, and if it doesn't, we'll tell Dumbledore to fix it after we are out of hiding. Worst case, Harry gets his own harem."
Lily threw a pillow at James' head, sparking off laughter that filled their house for the last time.
Both parents forgot one key piece of information. Laughter is a magic all of it's own, and as long as there is laughter in the world, that magic will remain.
Noon on the day Awesome House of Harem was formed - Little Whinging
For the fifth time that day since they dropped Harry off at the train station and Dudley off at Smeltings, Harley Quinn removed her fingers from her wife with a satisfying deluge of liquid.
"I could do this all day," Pamela moaned happily. "Assuming we re-hydrate and eat."
"You took this week off work, so we could," Harley grinned. "But I think it's my turn now to get all woozy. You said you wanted to eat, get eating."
"Both kiddos out of the house until Christmas," Pamela purred, finding strength to move enough to position herself between Harley's legs. She started in on her while continuing to talk. "No more waiting for a sleepover or babysitter to be loud and wild. We could break into a diamond store at midnight and fuck each other senseless on the thousands of dollars worth of gems for hours before running from the cops. We could fly to Themyscira or Hedonikka tomorrow and make good on that offer from Hippolyta and Zeus. Break into the Smith house next door and break every one of her plates. We can do anything you've been waiting to try, any fantasy you want. What and who will it be?"
If Harley had an answer, she couldn't verbally articulate it for quite some time.
By nightfall, after ordering gatorade and pizza, giving the delivery boy the most explicit show he'd ever seen in his two decades of life, the two women had satisfied their physical needs and desires.
"You know, we'll probably start missing the boys in a week or two," Harley guessed. "Empty nest and all that."
"Knowing them, we'll probably get more letters from their teachers about disciplinary issues than from them about their time at school."
"We could always drop by, check things out, make sure they are doing OK," Harley suggested. "Zatanna says Hogwarts is one of the top magical schools. Smeltings is a quality school too, and when Dudley was a baby Vernon made sure his boy would get in regardless of his average grades."
"True," Pamela agreed. "Still not sure if it was blackmail, bribery, or threats that did it, but whatever it was was effective even after a decade. And making sure Dumbledore is behaving wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. He hasn't been back here, but that doesn't mean he won't try something at the school."
"I'll look into it in a couple of days," Harley promised. "After all, how much trouble could they get into on their first night. We gotta give them time to cause some proper mayhem on their own, or else it will look like we don't trust them or believe in what they are capable of."