Chapter 557: Zest for Life by Quatermass (Harry PotterxHarley Quinn)
*The author of this work is still writing, so I'm assuming he has either moved on from this story, or is working on other work till he gets more inspiration for this wor. However, based on how many stories he has in assuming it's the former*
Latest update:December 9, 2022
Summary:Years ago, a green-skinned girl and a boy wizard bonded in a park. Now, Dr Pamela Isley, while on one of her crimes, rescues an exotic snake that turns out to be the very boy she once knew. Drawn into the maelstrom of madness that is Gotham's underworld, Harry Potter reunites with a penpal turned criminal...and that's before a certain crazy clown girl called Harley gets involved...
Link:https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13994286/2/Zest-for-Life
Word count:69k
Chapters:22
CHAPTER 1:
OF BOTANY, BRAIN BLEACH, AND BASILISKS
Pamela Gertrude Isley, at the normally tender age of twelve, had already decided that God did not exist. Most people react to such an epiphany with either relief or despair. A few would think, Hang on, that means that there's a vacancy(1).
It says a lot about her mindset at such an age that her own response to such an epiphany boiled down to Well, that fucking figures.
Anyway, here she was, in some suburban nightmare ass-end of England, having been left by her father to wander in a park. She felt more at ease around plants than people, and had done for much of her life. It didn't help that her parents were, at best, neglectful, and at worst, abusive. Children her age shouldn't know words like misanthropy, at least unless they're precociously intelligent, and while Pamela was very much that, she knew what it meant for darker reasons.
She had been born with green skin. Her cells were a hybrid of plant and animal, including chloroplasts and the like. She was immune to at least some poisons. Her parents had her genes tested (hoping probably that she could be disowned as a bastard child, though to their disappointment and her own, that did not eventuate), and found that she had the Metagenes active within her.
They called her freak when they couldn't be bothered with even the paper-thin pretence of being parents. And for what, an accident of her genes? She was, at best, tolerated by her parents, and by their servants back home.
And yet, the plants spoke to her, in susurrations that felt right. Plants were always her friends, better than teddy bears or anorexic Barbie dolls. They spoke to her, they listened to her.
They were so tired and weary in this suburban hellhole. Not in pain, but too many were sickly. Tended to by apathetic council workers, no doubt, and thus neglected.
Her father made her wear a hoodie and sunglasses. But the kids always peered closer. Saw the freak for what she was. She had hoped there'd be nobody here. She was used to solitude, used to kids not wanting to play with her.
And yet, someone was.
It was just one boy, a lanky, thin thing with a messy mop of black hair, with cheap glasses perched on his face. He was sitting morosely on a swing. For a moment, Pamela didn't dare approach, before finally deciding to. Better to get this shit over and done with.
As she approached, she heard him muttering, "…Single letter from them all summer. But why? They said they would write."
"What? They wouldn't give you a phone call either?" Pamela asked, before regretting it. It brought the boy's attention to her.
He turned to look at her, only to start and fall out of the swing seat. Of course, he saw her skin. Though his reaction was surprising. No fear, no contempt, just confusion and bemusement. His eyes were lovely, though. A gorgeous emerald that was so like her beloved plants. A scar, like a lightning bolt, marred his forehead, even if it was half-hidden by his bangs.
He seemed to remember himself, before saying, "My friends from school told me that they'd write to me, but I didn't get anything. Umm…why is your skin green?"
"…I have a condition," Pamela said. "I'm a Metahuman, if you must know."
At this, he seemed to come to some sort of comprehension, nodding. "Oh, I see. I thought…never mind. It's a lovely colour. Very pretty, like the rest of you."
"…Thanks, I guess?" Pamela asked, wrongfooted by the seemingly honest praise. "Sorry, I was kind of hoping to be alone. My asshole of a father left me here while he goes talk with some walrus from Grunnings. Apparently he's going to dinner at his place later. Doesn't want a freak like me to mess things up."
"…Same here. My uncle calls me a freak…wait…my uncle works at Grunnings. And he's like…well, you know…"
"Oh dear God…I am so sorry…" Pamela said. "I…"
"…Don't be. He's worse than a walrus. Honestly, I wish you didn't swear, though."
"Hey, smart people have more swear-words in their vocabulary. Science fact(2)," Pamela said. "Anyway…why do they call you a freak?"
"…I can't say."
Pamela looked at him suspiciously, before shrugging. "Okay. I'm Pamela Isley. What's your name?"
"Harry Potter." And then, he smiled at her, genuinely. "Nice to meet you, Pamela…"
The phone vibrated against her body. Verdant eyes opened reluctantly, and Dr Pamela Isley, now better known by her nom de guerre Poison Ivy, got up from her bed, checking the phone, and nodding at the text message. She hated that dream. It reminded her of one of the few people who gave a fuck about her, and one of the few people she gave a fuck about, and someone she never saw again. Even afterwards, she tried tracking him down, only for it to go nowhere. True, she had sent letters, having remembered his address, but apparently he went to some isolated school in the ass-end of Scotland, and his relatives didn't like being a mail-forwarding service. They eventually entered an infrequent correspondence, but that tapered off when he was 15. And in a fit of pique, she decided not to bother anymore.
Not that he'd want to be associated with her. He was just a nice, normal kid, who'd shown pity on a green-skinned Metahuman. Who the fuck would want to be with an infamous ecoterrorist (and supervillain, as much as she despised such a label for herself) like her? Oh, she had grown up, and grown out nicely, the body of a goddess, of Gaia embodied if she said so herself…but her misanthropy had only worsened. And being a supercriminal was killer on a love life.
People thought she was a misandrist, which was total bullshit. She didn't hate men, she hated humans. Men were just easier to target with her pheromones, especially when she was still in her sexpot seductress phase. And she was grateful she grew out of that phase. For all that she was fine with supercriminals dressing in whatever they felt like, in hindsight, she was uncomfortable exposing so much of her body publicly. She liked looking sexy, not like a hooker with a leaf fetish. Plus, having a jacket as part of her ensemble meant she had pockets to store shit in. Never underestimate the utility of pockets.
She didn't hate men to the exclusion of women, or any other identifiable gender for that matter. But there were men she despised. Aside from the obvious ones like her father, the Batman, or the Joker, there was Jason Woodrue, her teacher, the one who took on the teenaged prodigy Metahuman going through university…and royally fucked over her life. Seducing her, then using her in experiments to graft her powers onto himself, all while enhancing her own. All that nearly drove her mad. Well, it did, but that was in the past.
No, there was only the here and now. And she had another job to plan out. Namely, striking back at Windrich Estates. She'd killed off two of their higher-ups already, but the third, David Bennet, she had something good in store for him. After logging so many pristine forests with impunity, gaining permits through bribes or blackmail, this was karma(3).
She'd even chosen the timing well. When she did her bigger jobs, she looked to when Batman was off gallivanting off with those idiots in the so-called Justice League. Ha! What a fucking misnomer. If there was any justice in the world, people like the Joker would be compost.
Or Bennet, for that matter. That fucker wasn't content to royally sodomise the planet via deforestation and pollution. He had a small, private menagerie filled with exotic species, many of which she knew was bought via dubious means. Ironically, his mansion was far away from Gotham, in part of a forested area he'd bought up, to indulge in natural beauty, so he claimed, the hypocritical prick.
Hence why Ivy was in a tent in the middle of nowhere. She was, admittedly, something of a hypocrite herself, in that she enjoyed mod-cons, but she also believed you could have a balance between environmentally-friendly practises and modern civilisation, as long as you changed more than a few paradigms, and got rid of a few mouthbreathers. Seriously, what was taking WayneTech so long to bring out that miracle electric car? Bruce Wayne was one of the few plutocrats she tolerated, if only because he seemed to practise what he preached when it came to altruism, charity, and environmentalism, but he had a tendency not to deliver on promises. Probably off fucking socialites in much the same way Harley claimed Batman fucked bats. Hell, he already had one child, rumoured to be with Talia al Ghul, of all people.
Anyway, one of the many great usages of florokinesis was that her tent was covered in plants. In other words, instant camouflage. So after getting out and getting it rolled up, ready to take with her once she was done, she smirked. There would be security systems, but she had her plants growing under key points in the power and phone lines throughout Bennet's estate. Others would be distributing pheromones, enough to keep the guards from being aggressive towards her. Most of them were ex-GCPD who got sectioned thanks to having to deal with the likes of the Joker every day, and as much as she despised the cops for trying to stop her from doing her work, she sympathised.
So, after readying herself, and learning through her plants that her plan was ready, she moved through the forest, heading to the open-air menagerie where Bennet liked to gloat over his exotic animals. She came to a wall, avoiding the guards as she did so. With a thought, she disabled the lights and communications, the plants destroying wiring and apparatuses, before withdrawing into the soil. Curiously, she also began hearing a rhythmic grunting.
Oh dear God, he's fucking someone in the menagerie, isn't he? she thought, even as a massive vine grew and lifted her over the wall. Of course, what she saw, even in the dark, as the vine deposited her gently amongst the cages and displays, would make her squick out.
…Is that a fucking gorilla he's…well, fucking? Ivy thought in disgust, watching the man. Nope, I don't need any more of this etching its way into my brain. Though I now know who probably wrote that genderflipped Gorilla Grodd lemon Harley once showed me.
With that thought, she had vines grab Bennet off the animal, and have him spreadeagled in the air. It took him a moment to realise that he had just been cockblocked. "Wait, what? Who the hell is doing this?!"
"Who d'you think, genius?" Ivy said, stepping towards him. "Seriously, there's like one person in Gotham who can do this with plants, and you're asking who?"
The man, with a rather douche-y goatee, glared down at her. "Poison Ivy…you greenskinned slut…when my guards catch wind of this, you're compost."
"I've already dealt with them, dumbass. A little pheromone mix goes a long way. Oh, and by the way, your buddies with Windrich Estates, they're already compost. You're going to be following them. And just so you know, you can't insult me by offering me money to show you mercy. I know someone's who's already liquidated your accounts."
That look on his face was fun. It was partly thanks to that someone, or rather, someones, that she had the schematics to this place. They couldn't hack the power systems, and the phone lines were hardlines. But the guy's internet security was a joke, and his accounts had already been drained. Ivy would get a cut later, having been offered a chance to avenge herself on Windrich Estates. They had apparently close ties to Black Mask and his gang, and had ordered deaths. Plus, anything that hurt that misogynistic little fucktard kept her warm at night.
As Bennet realised how fucked he was, Ivy looked around, before smirking. In a cage was a rather mangy-looking lioness. "Hang on a moment," Bennet began as she opened the cage with her vines. "Even if you're telling the truth, I can help you. I have friends, powerful friends, I can help you get into the Legion of Doom. They could do with someone like you on…"
"Bored now," Ivy said with a roll of her eyes, before flinging him into the cage with the lioness, who, given that she was grumpy at having her sleep disturbed, and recognising the author of her torment, began tearing him into bloody chunks of meat. Ivy grimaced, not so much at the gruesome sight, but at the fact that she quoted Buffy the Vampire Slayer of all things. True, Dark Willow was all kinds of badass, and Ivy wished she could flay people with a thought, but still…
It was the Legion of Doom thing that pissed her off. She hated how they, especially Lex Luthor, were always trying to force her into it. It wasn't even because they thought she was worthy, they just wanted another female supervillain to tick fucking boxes.
A knocking noise cut through her thoughts. She looked to its general direction, to see a terrarium, one that had some plants in it…and a rather large snake. An odd one, with crests, a strange little scar above one eye…and its eyes…
Its eyes…
Ivy was struck by a strange pang of nostalgia. Those eyes were exactly the same shade as Harry's. She liked the colour green, she knew the various shades, what went well with other colours, so she knew that colour well.
She was startled from her reverie by the snake knocking on the wall of the terrarium with its head. "Right, sorry…were you trying to get my attention?" she asked. And to her surprise, he nodded. "Huh, a weird snake that can understand English. Then again, compared to what I just saw, that doesn't really rate a yawn on the weirdness scale. So, what do you want?" The snake knocked on the wall of the terrarium again. "…Look, I don't speak snake. Do you mean you want to get the hell out of there?" A nod. "Okay, I'm having a conversation with a snake. And you won't bite me?" It shook its head vehemently. "Anyway, FYI, I'm immune to pretty much every poison out there, ranging from ricin to that shit most people find at the back of the fridge. So if this is going to be some sort of Farmer and Viper tale, just know that biting me will only piss me off."
She used the plant on the inside of the terrarium to break it open, and the snake slithered out, before crawling up her arm, and draping herself over her shoulders. "Okay, so, I've got myself a scaly boa instead of a feathered one…or whatever you are, I dunno, I'm a botanist and a toxicologist, not a herpetologist. Also, just so you know, my landlord doesn't like pets, so you'd better make yourself scarce when we get back. Maybe I can sell it to him as you keeping the rat population down…"
The snake was surprisingly quiescent as she took her camping supplies back with her, before getting the car arranged for her back to Gotham. Her co-conspirators in this little job had arranged for that transport. Better than getting some neckbeard on Uber to do that.
As she got back into her apartment, the snake draped over her, her…roommate, for want of a better term, made himself known. "Hey, Ivy. What's that you got draped over your shoulders?"
"A snake," Ivy said, glaring at the large mutated carnivorous plant that she had transformed from a plant from the Central Park's dog-walking section. On a whim, she had named him 'Frank', after Frank Oz, who, aside from playing Yoda in the Star Wars films, directed one of her favourite films, the musical remake of The Little Shop of Horrors(4).
"Wait a fucking moment, are you replacing me with that thing?" the carnivorous plant demanded.
"No, he just wanted me to rescue him, believe it or not. I'm leaving the other animals for the authorities to deal with. Though I'm sure they'd have to put more than a few down. Frank…one day, I'm going to invent brain bleach, which I will need to wipe out a good chunk of tonight's events, as I discovered that bestiality isn't restricted to inbred farmers and weird internet porn." She shuddered, even as the snake slid off her shoulders, and slithered onto a couch, curling up. "Okay, so, smart snake…did Bennet ever fuck you? I mean, I'm not sure how that'd work, unless he somehow managed to get you to fellate him without biting him, but…"
The snake shook its head vehemently. "Seriously?" Frank asked. "This snake is smart?"
"Yeah. Its eyes reminded me of someone I met years ago. Nice kid, British, actually was my penpal for a while until he got bored," Ivy said, her attention turning to Frank, not noticing the snake peering at her Noguchi coffee table. She had a box of antidotes out on it, having been working on them until she got the call from her associates. "Begged me to take it with me. Dunno whether it's a he or a she, though."
Ivy suddenly heard clinking, and she saw that the snake was trying to get at one of her antidote bottles. "Hey, what are you doing?" she demanded, even as the snake bit down on the bottle. Green liquid from the fangs dissolved it with a faint hiss, and the bottle broke. The snake began lapping up the antidote desperately. "Uhh, what? What are you doing? I mean, it's an antidote, not water."
"Or spirits," Frank said.
The snake finished licking the liquid up, before its eyes bulged, and it began convulsing. Ivy stared as it began to ripple and warp, growing in odd ways. With a shock, Ivy realised the snake was transforming into a man, screaming in pain as he did so.
Eventually, he stopped, panting. He was clad in tattered clothes that were virtually rags, his frame thin and lanky. Glasses sat askew on his face.
But she knew him. Those emerald eyes…okay, they had a reptilian slit now, but there was no mistaking that shade of green, or the shaggy mop of black hair, or that scar on his forehead, faded now. And his gaze turned to her. "…Pamela? Is that really you?"
"…What the actual fuck?" Ivy muttered. "…Is that you, Harry?"
He nodded, and the two…well, friends was a bit of a strong word for what they had been, but they were acquaintances at least…the two acquaintances sat in silence, their thoughts roiling in their heads for a long time. Then, Harry broke it. "I think, if you ever develop the brain bleach, I'm drinking some with you. Try six years of seeing that shit, and not just one night."
Ivy stared at him in shock and horror, before she laughed, despite herself. It was more catharsis than mirth, but it was better than nothing. A strange reunion between them that marked the beginning of something more…
Link:https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13994286/3/Zest-for-Life
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