A/N: Thanks to all that reviewed, especially KayosHybrid for that particularly flailtastic review -- you're really doing a number on that Capslock key LOL. Be careful to not break the internetz, bb.
Apologies for the lateness, school has been really demanding. I'm supposed to be working on an English essay, but it's stressing me out, so I did this instead. :S
As the Joker struggles against whatever it is he suspects is holding him up by the ankle, I steal a glance at the door behind me. I want my privacy while I have a little fun, thank you very much.
With little concern reading on my face, I deftly flick my wand at the door as I whisper, "Colloportus!" and smile when I hear a sound lock. The Joker hears it too, I notice, when I turn back to him. His head had whipped up (well, down) to me, and his eyes dart to and from me and the door. He is wide-eyed with hysteric suspicion.
"What are you doing?" the Joker asks in an incredulous tone that startles himself the moment he says it. I can only relish with a smug grin as I cross one leg over the other. He gawks pointedly at me, after he had reached up and grasped nothing but air around his thieved ankle. "There's nothing there!"
"Nothing but air," I correct, frowning at him reprovingly.
I can't help but laugh out loud at the frantic look he shoots me, and it only provokes his accelerating indignation. I lean back in my chair as I fold my arms, evaluating my feats. No doubt the abrupt changeover in the interrogation's upper hand is driving the Joker mad (...madder); I can feel the vehemence radiating from his dangling form. I murmur to him fondly, "Oh, how I've missed magic."
I can't put my finger on one adjective to classify the Joker's expression. It is a hybrid of horror, disbelief, doubt and loathing, and it is all sincere, much to our mutual astonishment. It takes a few minutes for it to dawn on the Joker -- it being what I am and what I am capable of -- before he finally speaks. I am smiling patiently at him the entire time. Perhaps, me smiling at him at the moment is a little patronizing, but who cares? It's the Joker.
"And I thought I was the freak!" the Joker finally laughs humorlessly, staring at me with genuine horror. I try to smile warmly at him.
He is about to say something, when something catches his eye. I don't even have to look in the direction he is looking to know what it was. It was the two-way mirror. His features morph into something more sinister. "Aren't you afraid your boy scouts will burn you at the stake?"
There is no one watching at the moment. I made sure of that going in. But nonetheless, I reply with a breezy shrug, "Oh, nothing a little memory charm can't conquer." I flash him a kind smile. His lips curl with distaste.
"Ah, no problemo Gordo; I'll just do it myself!" He attempts a nefarious grin, but I can see how contrived it really is. "I like playing with fire, y'see." His eyes suddenly ignite, and the wicked glint returns. "But hey, why stop at one stake, hm? Why not torch down the entire Gordon residence?"
Suddenly, the Commissioner Gordon and Sirius Black in me stop fighting for authority. Figuratively, they swap glances, mull over the Joker's threatening remarks, and finally, the two personas become one. After a short moment for that to occur, I apparate myself to meet the Joker, nose to nose. I am too livid to savor his 'smacked in the face' expression when I did this.
"Threaten me, you insolent, young muggle?!" I snarl into his face, and he doesn't seem ruffled by my invasion into his personal space -- if any. It takes me a moment to realize that my American accent had been dropped. The Joker is regarding me oddly, as if to ask, 'What did you just call me?'.
"Granted, I have no idea what you are capable of," I begin in a more composed manner, stepping back and appraising his current state, "but I am quite certain I exceed every one of your qualities, making me in every way more powerful than you can ever be." I grin roguishly at him. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. I note, with some smugness, that he is making no effort to argue.
"Sure, maybe you'll triumph over Gotham one day and people will finally embrace your judgments," I say as I deviously circle him with my hands behind my back; one hand still gripping the wand. The Joker narrows his blackened eyes at me, beckoning me to continue when I stop to smirk at him, "But I can easily take that away with just a few whirls on the Time Turner."
Okay, that was a lie, in a way. A Time Turner could work, but I don't have one. But the Joker doesn't know that. Which is why he now appears blatantly infuriated, knowing that I am always ahead of him by nature, and that is one thing he could not do a thing about.
The Joker wavers on his response for a moment, making an effort every now and then to say something, only to waffle at his words and advance in a new approach. Eventually, he seemed to throw in the towel and throw a hissy fit instead.
"Why don't you just go all 'Abra Kadabra' on my ass and--and kill me already if it's so easy?" he sourly spits, followed by a few laughs that sound artificial and desperate.
"First of all, if I wanted to kill you, it's 'Avada Kedavra', people seem to confuse the two," I correct, sternly pointing at him and ignoring the insensitive roll of his eyes. "Secondly, the spell, also known as The Killing Curse, is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Forgive me for despising the very thought of being granted another one-way ticket to Azkaban prison," I huff haughtily, before I add, in a slightly sadder note, "Besides, I'm dead to the Magical community."
Long dead, I should have said. It's been thirteen years since I had been killed by my banshee of a cousin, Bellatrix, and was propelled into the veil that separated the world of the living from that of the dead. I think about Harry every day, as I am tempted to pay him a visit in London. Though I know, him seeing me again, alive, well and successful, would only cause him more pain, and even some for myself. His suffering would have been for nothing. As appealing as it is, I cannot see him again, for I risk severing his trust in me.
Merlin's beard, I'm still in the room with the Joker, aren't I? I glance up at him; my head must have been bowing in shame during my brooding. The Joker looks as if I had just told him a joke that he didn't quite understand. I probably confused him with my talks of Azkaban prison, curses, and supposedly being dead...
What was I talking about? Ah, his question.
"But as for the true intent of your question," I begin, and he blinks out of his perplexity just as I regain my direction, "I didn't become Commissioner by waving a magic wand at every little deed that needed to be done. I mean, the Polyjuice Potion did help during those trips to the grocery store," I muse aloud, oblivious to the Joker's scowl of bafflement at the mention of Polyjuice Potion, "but other than that, my entire career within the law enforcement has been magic free." I smile, seemingly proud of myself.
"Then why are you using it now?" He sounds irritated. Though, he has every reason to be; I'm virtually tormenting him with such abilities that he knows he can never possess. I almost pity him.
"Because I'm making an exception for a particularly special individual." I just know he is going to take that as a compliment. His grin tells me my instincts are correct.
"I knew I was special!" he giggles.
"Mhm." I point my wand at him, and before he could mock me, I utter, "Liberacorpus!" He drops, and before he hit the ground, I command, "Mobilicorpus!"
The Joker looks at me blankly as he simply floats in mid air. He eyes me challengingly, as if to say, 'Is that all you've got?'.
But then I move my wand.
"This isn't fair!" he whines sulkily, as he is thrown from one side of the room to the other like a pendulum, all by the control of my wand. I laugh mirthfully and sit back on his chair in amusement, kicking up my feet in the manner that I thought he would have done earlier.
"You want to talk about fairness?" I sneer incredulously, watching him cartoonishly splat in a spread-eagle position against each opposing wall. "HA!"
I flourish the wand in a sweeping move, and the Joker's form followed suit. Unfortunately, this time, I moved with a little too much force, and the Joker smashes the mirror upon impact. Startled, I gasp and immediately retract the spell, sending the Joker dropping to the shard-carpeted floor with a groan.
I arch up from my seat slightly, to peer at him on the floor from over the table.
"You alright over there?" I ask in a high voice, both anxious of his condition and suppressing a laugh at his amusing misfortune. "Sorry 'bout that. I, uh -- my arm, had a spasm."
Groans of discomfort are his only retort, as he takes his time to struggle to his feet. I realize that his troubles had all been an act when he swiftly swivels around in a flash and comes lunging after me, cackling perversely, like greased lightening. The keen shard of glass in his hand twinkles harshly as he charges forward.
Hastily, I command, "Expelliarmus!"
The Joker lets out his eccentric equivalent of a squeal when the shiny glass fragment magically whisks out of his hand and lands by the cell's threshold. As he takes the moment to watch it do so, I cast another spell on him.
"Impedimenta!"
The Joker only accomplishes to deliver a dense "Huh?" when he turns around just as I say this.
His mouth widens to holler at me when a long, black rope snaps into existence and proceeds to bind itself around the Joker's form, helping itself to station across the Joker's mouth, gagging him and caging any further word. He flitters about on his feet for a moment, struggling to keep his balance, as if he is being held prisoner inside a sleeping bag, before tumbling to the ground and rolling onto his stomach. His whining howls are lost under the rope that smothers him.
I fail to ward off the impulse to laugh as I watch him, face planted against the floor, with his legs flailing about in the air impotently. My laughter ceases with a nervous hiccup when I hear a voice, that is belonged to neither me nor the Joker.
"Gordon, what are you doing in there?" Detective Stephens. He knocks on the door and tries the handle. My eyes fly open with panic at the sound of his struggle. "Why is the door locked from the inside? Gordon!"
"Just a moment, Detective," I say back, reverting back to the Commissioner Gordon professionalism. From the corner of my eye, I can see the Joker feebly floundering towards me, like a fish out of water. Although it's quite an amusing sight, my cold sweat has immobilized all my triggers to laugh. I countermand the hex the very second the Joker is idle.
The moment the black ropes unlash themselves off of the Joker, and vanish out of existence, he opens his mouth with a loopy grin.
"You're in troub--"
Shut up, muggle.
"Langlock."
The Joker, who was once splayed out on the floor lazily upon his body's release, suddenly stiffens with a jolt when he feels something very strange happen inside his mouth.
"Nnngg! Nnnng!" I smirk weakly at him; having his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth should shut up those pompous remarks for a while. The smirk, however, is fleeting, as I quickly get to work.
"Mobilicorpus! ... Liberacorpus! ... Reparo!"
With just a few spells, I finally have the Joker rightfully seated at his chair, and the broken mirror cleanly mended. He seems oblivious to all this, and more preoccupied by the peculiar case of his fixed tongue. Ignoring his cries of struggle, I survey my appearance in the mirror; I brush a stray hair back into place, take a deep breath, and march confidently towards the door. Gripping the handle, I shot the wide-eyed Joker a dark warning scowl.
"Stay where you are, or I won't countermand that hex," I threaten. The Joker glares in return, both at me, my abilities and my superiority. I suppress a complacent grin as I open the door.
"It's no use; clown won't talk," I feign a long-suffering sigh as Detective Stephens strolls in, looking quite fazed after having to wait for quite some time. "He's evaded all my questions, and now he's pretending he can't talk."
The Detective and I share a glance, his being questioning and mine being confirmation, before simultaneously turning back to the Joker. Stephens has his eyebrows raised with stun, as if he had just encountered his first taste of Listerine.
The Joker looks as if he had just consumed a very sour gum drop as he tries to pry his tongue down from the roof of his mouth, with no hands. Detective Stephens is staring at him with a bemused look reserved for sideshow freaks. I do my best to stifle my laughter, let alone a grin. To Stephens, it must look as if the Joker had been kicked in the groin and had lost the capability to scream in agony. I indulge myself in a chuckle in my hand as the Joker's frantic wails louden.
"Nnnggrrrnn! Nnnggg!"
"C'mon Gordon," Stephens sighs, wrinkling his nose in disgust. I try to pass off my chuckling pose as if I was scratching my chin when he turns back to me. "You don't deserve to be in the same room as scum like this. Let's get some coffee."
I nod vaguely in return, and gesture for him to leave first. I'm halfway out the door when I stop and turn back to the Joker, just as his howls amplify once more.
"Nnngggrrnnrr!" he forces out feverishly, when I grin at him.
I angle my face out the door and say, "Uh, just one moment, I'll be there soon."
The Joker silences when I close the door and lean against it casually. I pull out my wand and immediately countermand the hex. Satisfied, I turn around to leave once I hear the Joker let out a gasp of air, proceeded by heavy panting.
"I'm telling!" he chokes out sulkily. My eyes narrow and his panting halts; he's probably wondering what I'm up to.
I hear him yelp with surprise when I suddenly pop out of existence, only to appear, leaning over the table towards him a second later. He inclines away from me with wide eyes; I had just apparated again.
"Even if you tell, no one will believe you," I teased. He narrows his eyes, wounded. "You'll just be giving yourself another reason to be locked up in Arkham."
Tormenting him with one last, knowing smirk about the matter, I turn to retire from the room; there is a slight swagger in my step.
I hear him obnoxiously call me a "Freak!" just before I close the door on him, and my instincts tell me that this isn't the last I'll hear from him on the matter.
Mischief managed?
A/N: I was thinking of making this into a longer fic; make Gordon and the Joker as a bit of an odd couple, what with Gordon trying to retain the Joker, and the Joker being smitten with his abilities (NOT Gordon) and is determined to learn more. What do you all think?
R&R or Cruciatus Curse, mmkay? XD