Well, the response to this has been interesting. I honestly don't know if this will become a full fic, but hopefully, it will.

ONE BAD DAY

CHAPTER 2:

ONE CRAZY WOMAN

As I was driven in the car to the Iceberg Lounge, I looked out at the buildings of Gotham City. Great fangs of concrete and steel and glass, clawing at the sky. This city was a shithole that made Magical Britain look like a utopia by comparison.

Now, to be honest, I'd never really heard of Gotham City until the Batman showed up. I do recall once hearing about Wayne Enterprises and how its current owner's parents got murdered by a jittery mugger in a dark alley, but that was it. Gotham was pretty much overshadowed by the likes of New York, Metropolis, Seattle, Boston…you get the idea. Of course, you also heard about a flying man in a cape in Metropolis doing his thing, but Batman actually came on the scene first, long before Superman arrived.

It was shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts that I first heard of the Batman. At the time, I gave it little heed. I was struggling to deal with the aftermath of the war we went through. We all were. It's been six years, and I'm still trying to cope.

Gradually, over the years, I saw more and more about the Batman. Hermione even took an interest, and she made it a minor hobby to speculate as to who the Batman was. Turns out, she actually was right with one of her top picks. But I'm getting ahead of myself there.

Anyway, I have to confess, I did eventually become intrigued by tales of Batman and his opponents. I think the irony is, he had more interesting enemies than I did. Let's face it, apart from a snake-faced would-be immortal warlock and a few werewolves, most of my enemies were inbred idiots who don't look much different from normal humanity, antiquated taste in clothes aside and some weird hairstyles. And they were basically the magical equivalent of Neo-Nazis. Nazis are like the go-to villain in fiction, used so often that we forget why they were so feared and loathed, and while I never forgot…well, you can judge a man by the quality of his enemies, they say. My foes were undoubtedly a threat, but in the end, they were little more than that. They were just inbred idiots who followed someone who looked like his mother fucked a snake. Given the habits of the Gaunts, I wouldn't be surprised if that was really the case.

Batman, though, he had more than a few interesting enemies, even if they were interesting in a cursed sense of the word. I could list them all one by one, but we'll do that later, when we meet them. Yes, they were a varied bunch of nutcases and psychopaths and, well, sometimes just criminals with a gimmick. But they felt more…colourful, more interesting, even if it was a rather macabre and morbid kind of interesting.

I winced as the car hit a bump, not because of the bump per se, but because it aggravated my injuries. The Aurors, in order to sell this, had beaten me. Even with a pain-numbing potion taken beforehand, the bruises hurt, as did the goose-egg on my head. No broken bones, thankfully, and I could fake a concussion, but still…as much as I believed method acting was useful, it sucked when you had to go so far. Actors in movies were paid more, and got injured less…well, actors who had larger roles.

One of the Aurors put a hand on my shoulder. "Get ready. We're coming up on the Iceberg Lounge now. Good luck."

"I'll need it," I said grimly, before trying to get into character. It was both easier and harder than you'd think. The hard part is, I'm not naturally a murderous psychopath. The easy part is, I have the blood of a natural prankster flowing through my veins in the form of my father, and turning into the Joker made it easier to laugh and smile. God, I'll need one hell of a holiday after this operation is over.

At that point, the car skidded to a halt, and I was thrown out to tumble onto the ground. As I got up, I snapped, in my best impersonation of the Joker, "Watch the suit! It costs more than I'd get for selling your organs!"

I watched as the car zoomed away. And then, I got glomped by something. "PUDDIN'!" squealed a voice that grated at the ears.

I shoved away my assailant instinctively, plus the bruising didn't help matters. And then, I saw who it was, and wondered whether I had fucked up. A young woman dressed in a red and black clown-like outfit that hugged her gorgeous figure in all the right ways, her blue eyes framed by a domino mask, peering at me in bemusement, even as she smiled an enthusiastic smile.

This, then, was Harley Quinn.

That wasn't her real name, of course. She was Dr Harleen Frances Quinzel, a psychiatrist who had worked for Arkham Asylum. Prior to Quincy Sharp reopening that facility, she had been a forensic psychiatrist working at Blackgate Penitentiary, a protégé of Professor Hugo Strange. However, during her time working at Arkham Asylum, for some bizarre reason, she became infatuated with the Joker.

There's many hypotheses thrown around for this. Hermione brought something up to me while briefing me on Harley, that Harley had a father who was a criminal, a con artist who was arrested in front of a younger Harley's eyes. She had made a scene about it, confused as to why the cops, who were meant to be the good guys, arrested her father, who could do no wrong in her eyes(1).

Harley, back when she was a psychiatrist, was noted for her empathy with criminals. Some praised her for this, and others showed understandable misgivings, especially when she began treating the Joker. The Joker seduced her, and eventually, she changed from psychiatrist to psychiatric case, an accomplice to the Joker. Her bodycount was surprisingly low, usually the goons who had failed the Joker rather than civilians, but that might have been because the Joker didn't want Harley encroaching on his spotlight.

When I read the files, I felt like I was reading about Bellatrix Lestrange. But from what I gathered, Bellatrix Lestrange at least had Voldemort's respect and loyalty. He may not have been capable of love, but he was capable of valuing her. The Joker, apparently, was willing to let her get captured if it served his purpose, exploiting her loyalty to his own ends.

In this much, I pitied her. An intelligent young woman, swayed to darkness by a psychopath. Seriously, she had brains and beauty, and she wasted it on the Clown Prince of Crime.

She also reminded me painfully of Luna. I was glad she'd found someone in Rolf Scamander. She needed someone who cared for her.

I shook myself from my thoughts, and growled, as if in irritated pain, "Easy with the PDAs, Harley. Those party-poopers worked me over something fierce."

Her hands flew to her mouth in horror. It'd be hilarious, given how theatrical it was, if I wasn't dealing with one of Gotham's most infamous criminals. "I'm sorry, Mr J! Did they hurt you too badly?" she asked in a high-pitched voice with a distinct Brooklyn drawl.

"Just bruises and a splitting headache, Harley," I said, rubbing my head and wincing. "I think a few memories got lost, but otherwise, I've had worse from the Bat. He'd eat those punks for breakfast."

"Who were they, Puddin'? I got so worried when they said you got snatched while in Miami! We shoulda been there, then we could've gone to Disneyworld! I haven't been for ages!"

"I think they were cops, sniffing around after those trinkets I snatched from Britain. Sadly, they didn't pull their punches. When they hit me, I couldn't remember where we took them. Lucky for us, eh?"

I was hoping she'd be gullible enough to buy that. Considering that, despite her doctorate, she got suckered into becoming the Joker's lover and enabler, it was possible. Of course, my performance had to sell it, and I was doing it on short notice.

Thankfully, she seemed to buy it. "Yep! Lucky us, Puddin'. Sorry, I just got out of a meeting with Blubberpot, and he told me to take a hike when I asked him where you were. Well, he told me somethin' different, but I don't think you can do things that way in the bedroom. It ain't anatomically possible, you know? Or hygienic."

"Bah! That squawking fool will get his comeuppance," I said, waving a hand dismissively, trying to avoid smirking at her joke. "Now, I presume you have some sort of transport? Don't tell me you hoofed it to talk to Penguin?"

"Nope. Here, let's take you back. And maybe then, I could treat you for your injuries. We can play Naughty Nurses!"

Wow. She…really had it bad for the Joker. I wondered if she annoyed the Joker by doing this. Then again, maybe he didn't care that much, given how much of a looker she was. All he really wanted was a blonde, bubbly cheerleader in a fetishized clown outfit.

I actually felt a pang of pity once more at such an intelligent woman basically being reduced to a bimbo. All for the sake of some psychopath. I quashed it, and the desire I felt. Harley Quinn's bodycount may not have been anywhere near as bad as the Joker's, but she willingly helped the Joker wreak havoc across Gotham.

And anyway, I still had Ginny at home. True, our relationship had been rocky lately, what with her insistence that I stop working so often for the DMLE, that I prepare to raise our family…and to be frank, I think we were in danger of splitting. But was I going to leave Ginny for someone like Harley Quinn? A vacuous blonde bimbo in a sexy clown outfit and who was an infamous criminal? Yeah, no.

Well, had I known what was going to happen to me in the coming weeks, I would have eaten those words.

Anyway, back to reality. I needed to try and ensure that I didn't do something I'd regret. So, I said, "Can't do that when I'm one big bruise, Harley. Medical treatment first. Any optional extras can come once I'm healed."

"Gotcha, Mr J!" she chirped. "We'll have to get going. B-Man's been going after Eddie more lately, since you were picked up in Florida, but if he spots you out and about, well, things could go south so much, we'd hit Mexico! Let's make like a tree and leave!"

I nearly told her to leave the jokes to me, but refrained from doing so. True, it's something the Joker would have done…but in a way, it felt like I was kicking a puppy if I did that. A puppy that tended to yap a lot and piss all over everything…but despite having only known her for a minute or so, Harley had some strangely endearing quality to me. So, instead, I said, wearily, "Yes, let's. It's been a long past few days…"

Thankfully, we didn't run into any trouble on the way back. Well, aside from Harley getting really into my personal space. She seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. Well, the Joker's wellbeing, anyway. It'd be touching if the one she was pining for wasn't a monster.

But apart from that, nothing really happened. Certainly no Batman swooping in and beating us senseless. I had to wonder what motivated this guy. Hell, why a bat, of all things? Bats can be freaky and horrifying, but frankly, I find dinosaurs or crocodiles or snakes scarier. For that matter, how can he afford his gadgets and armour, or that car of his? Why did he take on the criminals of this city?

I didn't know, and I couldn't afford to think about it much. I had to deal with the Joker's folly soon. And I could do that once I returned to his home sweet home. Which turned out to be an abandoned train station deep beneath Gotham's streets. It was one of many such bases the Joker had, and he rotated on a fairly regular basis, so I'm told, to avoid being targeted by Batman. Then again, the other supercriminals Batman dealt with often did the same thing: the Penguin was unique in having a more fixed base of operations compared to others. They'd moved to this base since the Joker was captured in Florida. I wondered if this was a contingency plan the Joker himself left in place in case he got captured, or Harley herself was smart enough to do that herself.

So far, so good. If I was lucky, I could find out where those artifacts were, and send them back, and be done with this undercover gig. After all, my job was to find the artifacts the Joker stole and get them back, right? Nothing beyond that.

Yeah, I should've known my luck wouldn't be anywhere near that good. I was at the very beginning of a whirlpool that would suck me down into the depths of the Gotham underworld. A series of unfortunate events that would tear me away from everything I held dear, and send me drowning in madness. The universe, after all, couldn't bear to see me doing well at all. Not one bit…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Harry's made contact with Harley. Things cannot possibly go wrong…right? Ha ha, we know the answer to this question…

1. I derived Harley's backstory here from what was relayed in Mad Love, specifically the novelisation of the comic and its cartoon adaptation. It's not necessarily canon to the Arkhamverse, but it adds a nice touch, don't you think?