I'm actually glad this fic got so much of a positive response. As always, there is no guarantee that this will become a fully-fledged fic, but I do intend to do a Harley Quinn fic, come hell or high water.

The first few chapters, especially those revolving around Harry and Ivy's developing friendship, will be more dramedy than the madcap comedy of the series. Harry and Ivy are jaded onlookers to an insane world. In fact, the title refers to what Harley brings back to their lives once she's leaves the Joker.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


ZEST FOR LIFE

CHAPTER 2:

DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?

So…this was a bit of a turnup for the books, Harry Potter thought. He'd heard of Poison Ivy, but he had never seen her before his betrayal and imprisonment. He'd heard a lot through Bennet's complaints about the supervillains ruining Gotham, but he'd never expected it to be the strange, green-skinned girl he had met just prior to Dobby ruining his twelfth birthday. So, to say this was awkward was like saying that the ocean was wet, that fire was hot, and that Ginny was a snake in the grass in more ways than one.

Honestly, that gamble with that antidote Pamela left on the table was…well, a gamble he didn't think would work. Ginny had boasted that the potion she had dosed him with would keep him in that form for the rest of his life. He was glad Pamela's antidote seemed to be, if not universal, then broad-spectrum enough to affect potions.

So, as Pamela bustled around, making coffee for herself and tea for him, he watched her. She had been a pretty girl when they had met, if one ignored the green skin and the slightly yellow sclerae of her eyes, a bit like some sort of jaundice. The years had been kinder to her than they had been to Harry, however. Even clad in green leafy trousers, a white shirt, and a black leather jacket, she was easily one of the most beautiful women he had met.

"So…you're a supervillain," Harry said.

He couldn't see her, but given her annoyed sigh, he knew she was rolling her eyes. "I'm technically an eco-terrorist. Supervillains commit crimes for their own self-gratification, in a form of ego-masturbation. I am trying to save nature, okay? And unlike others like, say, that decrepit old mummy Ra's al Ghul, I don't intend to wipe out the vast majority of humanity into the bargain. Well, these days, anyway. I just target the plutocrats and politicians who decide chopping down trees, pissing into streams or holding back renewable energy is fun. If I was a supervillain, I wouldn't be giving you tea, and believe me, I'm a little miffed at you, so get off your high horse."

"…You're miffed at me?"

"Well, yeah." Pamela began counting things off her fingers. "Okay, so, you only wrote on occasion, and I knew you were hiding shit, telling me only about your school, your friends, but no details. Then, they taper off about when we were 15. You were probably one of the few people who gave a shit about me, not quite a friend, but…you know, a human I could stand to be around without vomiting, and yet…despite everything, I then got my letters marked 'Return to Sender'. So, what gives? If those Dursleys were the ones to blame, I know you would have found a way around it. But you didn't, and I had better things to worry about, like early entrance to university. Honestly, I'm not that angry anymore, just…bitter, so I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself."

Harry fought down a burst of anger at Pamela's words. She did have a point. They weren't friends per se, but friendly acquaintances, penpals. But it had to hurt Pamela, given how many friends she had when he met her (which was to say none), so he decided to swallow his stung pride, what little there was left of it after being imprisoned at the Casa de Bennet, and explain. "Do you want the short version, or the long version?"

"Short version first. Then the long version if I feel like it."

"…Okay. I'm a wizard, a fangirl of mine turned out to be my mortal nemesis thanks to a Diary, she potioned me up to fall in love with her, fell pregnant to me, and framed me for her brother's murder, before changing me into a Basilisk with another potion and leaving me to rot in a cage."

Pamela, who was bringing the mugs of caffeinated beverages to the table, halted, stared at him, and muttered, "…Okay…I think I'm going to need the long version. But seriously, you can do magic? Like Zatanna or Constantine? Or Dr Fate?"

"Not like them per se, but…sort of. However, the wizards are an inbred lot who are obsessed with keeping our society secret from normal people."

Pamela looked at him flatly as he checked his tea for any hidden surprises. Finding none, he drank, marvelling at the taste. "…Normal people. In a world with the Justice League or the Legion of Doom? Where Felix Faust performs magic in front of how many people?"

"Like I said, inbred."

"…Fair enough. Okay, so, that explains part of it. So, what about the fangirl thing?"

"Okay, so…in her first year at our magic school, which is called Hogwarts by the way…" Pamela nearly choked on her coffee, laughing at the name. "Yes, I know, I didn't name the place. Anyway, she was given a diary by an enemy of her father. The diary held part of the soul of the man who orphaned me, Lord Voldemort."

She gave him another flat look. "…Really?"

"It was just his supervillain name. His real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Okay, got it, I can see why he chose such an edgelord name," Pamela said, sipping on her coffee. "Not like I can talk, but it was some douche on Facebook who first called me Poison Ivy, and the name stuck. Anyway, so, fangirl gets a dangerous magical artifact with part of the soul of your nemesis. I think I'm putting it together. It took her over?"

"Later on. I thought I had gotten rid of it. But Voldemort took her over, and got infected with her fangirl nature. He decided he wanted a better plan than to kill me, unlike his living counterpart. So, she potioned me up to fall in love with her, and after I defeated his original self, we got engaged, one thing led to another, she fell pregnant, and then opened up her brother's throat with a knife. She then framed me, claiming that I was the same as her, being taken over by a soul fragment of Voldemort."

"But how did she manage that?"

"…I actually had one in this scar until I was nearly 18. I got rid of it, thanks to a very complicated plan that I was not privy to. But few people knew that, and so few people thought she was lying. She then disappeared me prior to the trial, boasted about her masterplan, and then managed to transform me into a Basilisk with another type of potion. I was put into a cage, sent to her contacts in the US, and was sold around a few buyers until Bennet bought me. She was probably the one who sent your letters back. Or maybe Dumbledore did, I wouldn't have put it past the old bastard to do that."

"Okay, so, in summary, you got screwed over by your nemesis, and I'm sure a lot of people in Britain think you're a killer."

"Well, technically I am. I killed one of my teachers only a month or so before I met you for the first time," Harry said. "In self-defence, he had Voldemort growing out of the back of his head like a tumour, but…"

"…Well, self-defence doesn't exactly count as murder, though there's more than a few corrupt courts who'd claim otherwise. That being said, damn, you started young," Pamela said. "And there's no chance in hell you've been exonerated?"

"…They never exonerated my godfather, and he got framed for killing over a dozen people and betraying my parents. What chance do I have? They all believed that bitch when she claimed I murdered my own best friend. Well, except for maybe one or two people. But that's it. The amount of people in my corner, I could probably count on one hand."

Pamela nodded, before sipping more coffee in thought, before closing her eyes. "I'm probably gonna regret this," she muttered. "Well, I guess you could stay here a while, at least until we get something better sorted out."

"Sorry, what?"

"Look…before everything went from bad to worse in my life, your letters were pretty much what kept me going. If you're telling the truth, then I thought the worst of you, and for no good reason. You think you don't have people in your corner? Counting you, and that's very tentatively, that's two for me, and frankly, the other one's flaky, and she's fallen for a scumbag who takes advantage of her. Which is a crying shame, as she helped soothe the worst of my misanthropy, and she's smart. She actually helped me become better in Arkham Asylum, and is one of the few humans worth giving a shit about. And yet, when I see her with the guy she's with now, I think, What a fucking waste. So, if I can't get through to her, then…well…"

"…You're doing this for me?" Harry asked flatly. "Even though I am…sorry, was a hero back home."

Pamela shrugged. "Look…when we first met, you said I was pretty. You know how many kids said that to me? None. They just called me a freak. That fucked me up pretty badly, amongst other things. A kid at that age shouldn't know what the term misanthropy means, let alone living it. And while I intend to leave the world a better place…I mean, I owe you something for the misunderstanding."

"You don't owe me anything," Harry said, looking away. "Ginnymort did that to me. And it's not like we were actually friends."

"…Look, I'm chancing things, going out on a limb. I want to help you, Harry, because I remember being the girl who was told by one boy that I was pretty, when nobody else did. A boy who had relatives as fucked up as mine, calling their own blood a freak. Though…that pudding incident…what happened? Only, my parents came back claiming a pudding exploded all over them."

"…Yeah, well, apparently a House Elf was trying to stop me from going back to Hogwarts, first by stealing my letters, and then by exploding pudding all over your parents. I'd apologise, but they weren't good people."

Pamela chuckled, more warmly than before. "Nope. And while I'm not exactly good people myself, I don't torture or abuse kids. I have standards, you know? Used to be, I did a lot of the same shit Ginny did to you. I used pheromones to control people." As Harry looked askance at her, she waved her hands. "Look, I don't do that shit now. Believe me, if I was using it on you, you'd already be giving me cheesy pick-up lines while more priapic than a Viagra addict."

"…Pria-what?"

"Means you'd have a hard-on you could use as a towel rack," Frank remarked.

As Harry shot Frank a horrified look, Pamela said, "Look, I told you, while I was in Arkham Asylum, someone gave me a wakeup call. I still use the pheromones, but I sure as hell don't seduce people with them now. And honestly, after hearing how that bitch screwed you over, I'm even less inclined to use them. Besides, relying on that shit makes you lazy."

"Says the woman who has control over all plant life?" Frank asked, with what would have been the equivalent of a raised eyebrow on a human face. "She gets them to do half her housework."

"Hey, pheromones are pretty much a single-use tool, okay? Brainwash, rinse and repeat, and it doesn't always work," Pamela said. "At least with controlling plants, I have to get creative. Besides, if you're griping about me using them, then how'd you like to go back to the park, with dogs shitting on your face?"

"…You have a fair and conclusive point, Ivy," Frank said.

"Good. So…" Suddenly, Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi began playing, and Pamela mouthed an apology at Harry, before taking out a mobile phone and answering it. "Hello? Oh, it's you, Athena. Did you know Bennet was fucking a gorilla? Yeah, his menagerie was more like a harem of bestiality, and yes, I'm aware that is a rare sentence, for which I am actually grateful. I saw things that can't be unseen. Send the usual percentage of my payment to the usual environmental groups, and remember, not the sellouts or the psychopaths. Actually, can you set aside some of the payment? I have someone I want info on, a Harry Potter?"

As Harry frowned, so too did Pamela, albeit after hearing something. "Okay, okay, hold on, I didn't say that, I…hey, what the fuck? How do you know him? You and the others never show your faces to anyone. Why would…fine, you know what? I'll tell him if I see him, but I don't know how…fine." She hung up. "…What the fuck?"

"I could ask the same thing," Harry said. "Should I be getting ready to run for my life?"

"That's a good question to which I don't know the answer," Pamela said. "Athena, Eris, and Persephone are a trio of information brokers, calling themselves collectively the Oracle. The weird thing is, Athena just told me to tell you 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good', said you'd know what that means."

Harry blinked. Those words, from a lifetime ago, struck a chord with her. Few would know it, and he certainly knew most if not all of those would be his allies.

"Let's put it this way," Pamela said. "They fuck with you, and they'll soon be looking like characters in a tentacle hentai. I've tangled with magic users before. If you take away their wands, staves, books, and/or their voices, they're usually easier to handle. They usually skip leg day. That being said, if you need to make a quick escape, there's a hatch in the wardrobe leading to the basement, and you can get out from there. The landlord put it in for me. He's okay for ex-CIA."

"…That's not reassuring."

"He's also an old cyborg in a scooter who's basically every bad stereotype about Jewish grandpas and landlords distilled into one curmudgeonly Yiddish package," Frank said smugly. "Of course, he thought I violated the 'no pets' rule. I set him straight, pointing out that I am either a roommate, or a houseplant, but I'm no motherfucking pet!"

"…I think I'll finish my tea first before seeing if I need to flee into the night. By the way, Pamela, thanks for the tea."

"Hey, you're welcome. I'm nobody's tea lady, but, well, you needed some caffeine. Honestly, I'm more of a coffee drinker, but I drink tea sometimes. Black tea, green tea, nettle tea…"

They trailed off into companionable silence, until they heard a distant ding of the elevator, and tensed up. They heard an old voice saying, "…Trouble, but who isn't? She's good with the rent, though, it's just when she brings the meshuggener clown girl home that things get rowdy."

"Oh, she'll be no trouble, and I think she has a guest who'll be glad to see us."

That voice…Harry wasn't tensing up ready to flee now. He knew that airy, dotty tone. Which meant…

Suddenly, the sliding door was slammed open, and a small form hurried in. A small form with silver hair with blue at the fringes. She looked at Harry when she stopped near him, a girl of about eight. "So, you're the one who killed my father? Well, one of them, anyway. Weird eyes, bee tee dubs."

"…Abwuh?" was Harry's coherent response.

The kid shrugged. "Oh, don't get me wrong, he was an inbred psycho, and so was my mother. My birth mother, I mean. I mean, I'm surprised I didn't have webbed toes or something. Actually, I should save up my pocket money, get you a gift. Mum told me you like chocolate frogs? I like 'em too, especially biting off their head. It's bloody good chocolate too."

"Delphini Hydra Granger!" snapped a familiar bossy voice.

"Oh Merlin, she's doing the full name ultimatum thingy again," the girl said with a roll of her eyes.

"Mind your language, Delphi," said the very familiar woman with the bushy hair, standing with a dotty-looking blonde, with an old man in a scooter, and with some clunky-looking cyborg parts on his body.

"…Hermione? Luna?" Harry asked.

"You know these people, Harry?" Pamela asked. "As in, in a good way?"

"Well, they were amongst the only people who believed my innocence, even though Ron was Hermione's fiancée. Then again, they're two of the smartest witches of their generation."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you, Dr Isley, at least in person. Your papers on plant motility are the best in the field," Hermione said. And then, she turned to Harry, before she and Luna all but launched themselves at Harry, gathering him into a hug.

"…We thought we had lost you, forever," Hermione sobbed quietly.

Harry, after a moment, returned the hug. If nothing else, it helped him keep something anchored to something like sanity, after so many years of having to deal with being framed for murder and an unwilling voyeur to bestiality. He just didn't know what the future held…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, here you go. Harry talking it over with Ivy, and meeting a couple of old friends.

Now, I have done Hermione as an information broker before, in my Mass Effect crossover Quarian's Wizard, but come on, it'd suit her, being Oracle before Barbara Gordon. Plus, it's funny that Luna's part of the deal…and Delphi Riddle is too. Delphi's going to be one big bundle of disturbing, funny, and heartwarming. Plus, I wanted more Potterverse elements than just Harry involved. FYI? Luna's dating Kite Man.

I also wanted to give some reasoning for Ivy not using her pheromones in the series, save for when Kite Man stole them and used them to spike the punch at the Bar Mitzvah. I think Harley helping soothe her misanthropy helped. In this fic, she's even more reluctant. Harry wasn't a friend, but he was on good enough terms with her that she feels for his plight.

No numbered annotations this time.