Alright, so this starts a few months after Arkham origins and continues on through Harry's time at Hogwarts and into Arkham Asylum, Arkham City and ends with Arkham Knight.

Most of the story is already planned out, but not written down and even what has been written isn't yet finalized, so input is always welcome. I love reviews as long as you stay polite, so no telling me me or my story is a piece of shit or something. Just tell me what you think could be improved instead. (I never knew I had to specify this, but you'd be surprised what some people write to you)

Joker rarely ventured back into the Wizarding World, but every now and then, he felt the need to reconnect with his past. This time, he noted, it had been extra-long. Since his arrival at Gotham, meeting the Batman, or reuniting with the Batman, not that that overgrown flying rodent still remembered, he hadn't even thought about the Wizarding World. Hell, it had been about 5 years now since he'd last heard anything from his brother at this point.

He wasn't exactly keen on returning anywhere near those silly, wand waving morons. The Muggle World was much more interesting to him, more variety, more creativity. The Muggle World was a blank canvas, waiting to be painted on by him. Still, sometimes, like now, the need to return was strong enough to move him into acting. Besides, it was time he got Harley acquainted with this side of the world.

He'd used a glamour to look like he had before the accident. Paper white skin turned regular pale, green hair turned dark brown, just his eyes were the same. He was wearing bright purple robes, while Harley wore red ones. The young blonde was staring at everything in awe as they strolled through the Bludhaven Wizarding shopping district. The young female muggle was over the moon with this entirely new world opened up to her.

"What's that over there, Mistah J?" Harley asked excitedly.

Joker had told her about magic two weeks ago, and this was the very first time he'd taken her with him into the Wizarding World. Not that he had gone without her since escaping Arkham with her help. Still, he guessed she deserved a little treat, and he himself could do with a bit of catching up. He wanted to know what he had missed since he left. Who knows, maybe something was going on he wanted to be a part of, unlikely, but hey! You never knew, right?

"Quodpot supply shop," the disguised murder clown replied.

He looked up, finding the young woman had already skipped away towards the shop, now pressing her nose completely against the glass of the shop as she stared at the brooms. Joker grinned and shook his head fondly. Harley had been with him now for almost six months. It had been half a year since she busted him out of Arkham. He was honestly surprised to find he actually enjoyed her company most of the time. The affection was annoying, but useful.

"Wonderful day, isn't it?" a British voice spoke up a bit further.
"Almost Al Hallows Eve. A day to celebrate."

Joker raised a brow in curiosity and walked over to the where the Brit was talking with some shopkeeper. The man was wearing a simple black cloak and had greying hair, while the shopkeeper was a chubby man in his mid-thirties, with thin brown hair and a burgundy cloak with a nametag. Applebaum, it said, and Joker almost had a laughing fit at the name. His chuckle earned him a slight glare of the shopkeeper, but the man quickly turned back to his conversation.

"Celebrate what?" the shopkeeper asked curiously.

The Brit raised a brow at the question, looking as if the man was an idiot for not knowing, and that earned him the same type of glare Joker had received earlier. The man chuckled a bit and spread his arms wide.

"Why, the fourth year anniversary of You-Know-Who's demise of course!"

At the exclamation, Joker tensed. Last he'd heard of his brother, people feared to speak his name. But Tommy had become immortal when he was only 16 years old. Maybe not physically, but he sure as hell couldn't die anymore. It couldn't be him they meant with that nickname, right? No way Tommy would've gotten himself killed.

"What if I Don't-know-who?" Joker asked, grinning at the two of them.

"Well… the Dark Lord of course!" the Brit spoke, smiling brightly.
"Destroyed by young Harry Potter, the Boy Who Loved!"

Joker's eyes darkened as he heard that, but he kept on smiling at the men, who were slowly getting uncomfortable by it. Not that surprising of course. There was nothing friendly in Joker's grin.

"Harry Potter, huh?" he asked darkly, grin widening even more as he saw the Brit blanch.
"Now what did that boy-who-lived do exactly to 'kill' the Dark Lord?"

"No one knows. The news is that You-Know-Who went to the Potters to kill them all on Halloween 4 years ago, and next we heard, the house basically exploded. When investigators got to the scene, James and Lilly Potter were dead, so was the Dark Lord, but little Harry was unharmed, just the scar, and considering they found all that remained of the Dark Lord in front of his crib, it's widely believed the child is the reason of his demise."

Even though the man was still very uncomfortable by Joker's presence, he was eager to tell the tale. The man's dark eyes were sparkling with pride and hope, and Joker wanted to crush it so very badly. He kept it in though. This conversation had brought more important matters to the front of his mind.

"How interesting," Joker murmured chuckling.

His brother had told him about the Prophesy back when that spy of his first told him about it. He'd asked Joker to come back to Britain to help him find and destroy the boy, as the Prophesy had only spoken about defeating one Dark Lord. However, Joker had known that Tom hoped that this way, it would be Joker to die at the hands of the Prophesy Child and not himself. Joker had never been interested in becoming a Dark Lord though, and he had declined, saying that he might change his mind if Tom knew the whole Prophesy and not just half. Clearly, the older twin had been too impatient to find out the other half and had gone ahead and tried to kill the kid by himself. Really, it was his own damn fault he got himself blown up.

He turned around abruptly, stalking away from the two talking men, uncaring of the strange looks they kept on him as he walked over to where Harley was looking at some Wizarding pastries. He grabbed one of her ponytails and dragged her away, ignoring the shout of pain and surprise that came from the girl, or the shocked and scandalized stares he received from the people around them.

"What's goin' on mistah J?" the girl squeaked as she rushed to match Joker's steps.

"We're going to England. There's a little boy that's dying to get to know us!" Joker replied darkly before spinning on his heels and apparating, Harley's hair still in his grip.

. . . . .

"Boy!"

Harry flinched at the loud, booming voice of his uncle and quickly scurried back inside. He'd been tending the garden for the past three hours, and he wasn't entirely done yet, but if his uncle called for him, he preferred to do what he said and anger his aunt than the other way around. Uncle Vernon could hit a lot harder. He stopped in his tracks in the living room, where he found a beautiful young woman with blond hair pulled back in a high bun and stylish glasses pushed up on her nose. She smiled brightly at him, and Harry couldn't help but blush.

"Hello, Harry," the woman greeted in a, to Harry, strange accent.
"My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I was asked to do a psychiatric evaluation."

"A-a what?" Harry asked quietly, eyes wide as he stared at her.

"I'm just going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer truthfully."

"Good luck with that," Uncle Vernon snorted.
"The boy lies about nearly everything."

Harry scowled at him, but didn't dare correct him. Harry rarely ever lied, but the Dursleys kept telling everyone he did. Most everyone in the neighborhood believed them of course, and because of that, no one wanted to be his friend.

"I'll be the judge of that!" Dr. Quinzel muttered in a cheerful tone.

Vernon grumbled something before walking away, leaving Harry and Dr. Quinzel alone. The doctor grinned brightly at Harry again and pulled out a note pad and a pen.

"So… what do you know about your parents?" she asked.

"Uhm… not much," Harry muttered quietly, frowning a bit confused.
"They died in a car accident when I was small, and they were bad people. That's what uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia say."

Dr. Quinzel scowled and nodded, writing something down on her pad before looking back at Harry with a strange expression. Harry swallowed and looked away, fearful that he'd said something wrong. The woman hummed in thought, tapping her pen against the pad for a little while as she thought about another question to ask Harry.

"What about magic?" the woman suddenly asked, startling Harry into looking back up at her.

"Wh-what?"

"Do you believe in magic?"

Harry's eyes grew wide in terror and tears started to leak out. Again, the doctor frowned.

"M-magic isn't r-real!" Harry quickly told her, eyes flitting around the room nervously.

Dr. Quinzel leaned forward and put a comforting hand on Harry's leg, scowl deepening as the young child flinched away from the touch as if expecting pain. Large green eyes, almost the same color as her Mr. J's, stared at her fearfully, making her heart melt in an instant.

"Let's focus on something else, alright?" she suggested softly.
"How about your birthdate? Can you tell me?"

"July 31," Harry mumbled quietly, calming down a bit.

Dr. Quinzel grinned widely and quickly jotted it down on the notepad. Harry scowled, confused at the strange questions, but he didn't say a thing about it of course. He was just a little kid. Maybe this was normal and he was just a freak, like his relatives kept telling him.

"Have you ever done something you couldn't explain?" Dr. Quinzel asked.

"… My teacher's hair turned blue last week because I was angry at him," the child muttered, eyeing the doctor warily.

"And how is that not magical?" she wondered grinning.

Again, Harry tensed. He trembled in fear at the question, looking away from the doctor and wrapping his arms around himself. He glanced towards the door, half expecting his uncle to burst through, screaming magic wasn't real and hitting Harry, like he'd done many times before.

"It's not. Magic isn't real," he said stubbornly.
"If it was, magic would be evil and wrong and unnatural. I'm just a freak, just like my parents. They were bad people says uncle Vernon, and I'll be a bad person too… do-do you think I'm bad?"

He glanced up at Dr. Quinzel, eyes big and watery as he waited for her reply, begging with his eyes to tell him otherwise. The woman smiled gently at him and leaned a bit closer again, putting her hand on the child's leg in a comforting gesture, smile widening when Harry didn't flinch away this time.

"There's nothing wrong with being a little bad, hun," she told him softly.
"It makes you special and unique. If that means you're a freak, then all the best people in the world are freaks."