A/N: Well, this is it, the final chapter! I think it's been as much fun for me to write this as it has (I hope) for the rest of you to read it. No sequels are currently planned, though they aren't impossible, either. Thanks to all of you who have favorited, followed, and reviewed. And of course, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping to make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Do note the dates - this chapter starts out more than three years after the last one ended, then there is another large jump in the middle.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Gods Among Us" by arturus. HP/Battlestar Galactica crossover. After the war, Harry is helping Hermione explore an ancient tomb when they stumble upon a ship that takes them far, far from earth... and drops them near the Battlestar Galactica as its fleeing the Cylons. None of the refugees have ever seen anything like magic, but Harry and Hermione are used to being caught up in a prophecy... Wait, what? Another prophecy!? H/Hr. In progress.

Italics: a person's thoughts.

Special Note: This final chapter is dedicated to the memory of Bobmin356, who passed away in his sleep yesterday morning. He and his wife Alyx wrote some great stories together - if you haven't read any of them recently, I urge you to do so. By all accounts, he enjoyed writing with his wife, so he'd probably like it if people continued to enjoy reading their works.

Chapter 10 - Crime Fighting Couple

Gotham City. Late July, 1997.

Not since I defeated Voldemort had I had so many villains arrayed against me.

"Hoo hoo hoo! With this plan of mine, we'll finally be able to capture those Caped Cruds!" The Joker was dancing around his fellow villains in joy, though only the Penguin seemed to share his good mood.

"And then we'll unmask them on live television this evening, exposing their secret identities to the entire world, wah wah wah!"

"Hee hee hee! And with today being the Fourth of July, that will make it our Independence Day - independence from meddlesome masked heroes, that is. I'm a genius of comic timing! Ha ha ha!"

In contrast to the other two, the Riddler was in a far more somber frame of mind. "If this plan is so good, then riddle me this: where are they? Why haven't they shown up? We've been holding those two over there hostage all day, and still no sign of Batman or the Boy Blunder!"

"Oh, quit your bellyaching!" the Joker said. "They'll be here. This plan is the best I've ever come up with."

I wouldn't have called it his "best" plan ever, but it was decent. The Joker had decided to welcome Hermione's arrival in Gotham City as The Bookworm by luring us to a bookbinding factory. The two of us were currently tied to a conveyer belt used for cutting and folding printed pages into books. If we weren't saved in time, we'd be transformed into Bat Books - Volume 1 and Volume 2.

For some reason, though, Batman and Robin were taking so long to get to us that we'd been returned to the start of the slow-moving conveyer belt three times already. It was getting tedious.

"And your plan is even better with me and the Riddler helping you!" the Penguin insisted, causing the Joker to huff like a diva. God, he could be even more of a drama queen than Snape! "You know it's true, wah!" the Penguin continued. "With my Goons and his Minions helping your Thugs, we have more than enough muscle here to overwhelm the dynamic duds. And since they don't know that the three of us are working together, they'll never expect to find so much opposition here when they arrive."

"He's got a point," Hermione whispered to me, and I nodded in agreement. Despite the boredom, I'd actually been pleased that Batman and Robin were taking so long to show up. I kept hoping to come up with some means to even the odds before they got here, but so far I hadn't been able to think of a thing.

"Well, we'll see," the Riddler grumbled.

Until now, that is. The Riddler was obviously the weak link in this criminal chain, and I knew just the way to break it. I'd been saving this for a special occasion, after all.

"Hey, Eddie!" I called out.

The Riddler whipped his head around to look at me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and surprise.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Eddie. I've been meaning to pass along a message to you."

"And what sort of message would you have for me, Bat Brat?" he demanded.

"Riddle me this: what has the body of a lion, the face of a woman, and very unusual dietary requirements?"

The Riddler crossed the room and was in my face so fast that he might as well have apparated. The look on his face now was sheer disbelief and fear as he said, "You didn't… you couldn't have met…."

"Fatima?" I asked. "Black hair, black eyes, huge... tracts of land? Sure, I met her. Very nice... lady. We were both surprised to have a mutual acquaintance in you." I watched his adam's apple bob as he gulped, then I twisted the knife a little more: "She misses you, by the way. In fact, she's positively starving to see you again."

"Don't you mean 'dying' to see him?" Hermione asked.

"Hush, Bookworm, or I'll cancel your library card!"

Seriously, Hermione has the cutest pout ever.

"No, I meant 'starving,'" I insisted with a toothy smile.

"What did you tell her?" the Riddler demanded, starting to sound a little shrill. "Tell me!"

"Oh, I told her all about you, Gotham City... Arkham Asylum," I answered. "To be quite honest, I'm surprised that she and her friends haven't shown up yet."

"Friends?" he squeaked.

I nodded. "Fatima said they have lots and lots of new riddles to ask you, Eddie. They're so looking forward to seeing if you can answer them all."

The Riddler once again did his version of apparition, appearing suddenly on the other side of the room, where he grabbed his green hat and coat. "Sorry, guys, I, uh... just remembered an important appointment I have to get to. In, uh... Borneo."

"Borneo?" the Joker asked in confusion.

"Minions! Let's go!" In moments, the Riddler and a third of the bad guys were gone.

"Borneo?" the Joker said again, looking at the Penguin. "I don't get it. What's the punch line?"

"I don't think it's a joke," the Penguin said, frowning.

"Oh... well, it doesn't matter. Without him, there's more glory for the two of us. Ha ha ha!" The Joker seemed to get his confidence back pretty quickly. The Penguin nodded in agreement, but his eyes told a different story.

Once Hermione and I were moved back to the start of the conveyer belt for the fourth time (which was starting to feel a bit like having a time turner again!), she turned towards me looking quite exasperated. "Does this happen to you very often?"

"Not the boring repeats so much," I answered, "but being taken hostage? Yeah, more often than you'd think."

"Ugh! I can't believe that I endured months of brutal training from Dick for this. For this! I be could be on a beach in France with my parents right now!"

"They went to the beach?" I asked. "I didn't know that."

"Yes. A nude beach."

"Nude?" I could feel my cheeks heating up. Did people really do that?

"Sure, we often go to St. Tropez in the summer. It was just my bad luck that they scheduled their vacation for the time I'd already arranged to be here. Bored out of my mind. And the fact that they're managing to bore me, a book lover, in a bookbinding factory is just adding insult to injury!"

"You've been there before? Nude? As in, without clothing? In public?" I felt the heat spreading well beyond my cheeks now as I imagined Hermione naked under the sun on a beach of white sand….

"Mm-hm." she answered. "But instead of enjoying the sun - and the sights - I'm stuck here!"

I sighed as I struggled to get my hormones back under control again. I had known that this conversation would have to happen eventually, but the circumstances certainly could have been better. "Actually," I said slowly, "I need to come clean: Robin and I switch week to week who gets captured. Why do you think he wears a bright yellow and red costume that screams 'target'? You should see what they wanted me to wear at first. Sparkly, glittery purple was the tamest thing I could talk them into."

Hermione's outraged expression froze for a moment as she looked me over carefully. "I don't think I've ever said, but... it does look good on you."

"Really? You think?" I'd always worried about whether I looked good in my costume, but the only people I could ever ask were Bruce, Dick, and Alfred, none of whom were exactly experts on girls' fashion. Don't even get me started on the disaster of a conversation we once had about makeup.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione reassured me. "Purple is definitely your color."

"Thanks!" I suddenly felt a lot better about myself.

"Anyway, what you told me just doesn't make any sense!"

"What, that we trade places in who gets captured? It actually does," I explained. "If they know they can capture us, they focus on us instead of innocent civilians. We play bait, the civilians stay safe."

That forced Hermione to stop and think for a moment as the conveyer belt trudged along. "I... I guess I can understand that. It's not that much different from putting yourself between some immediate threat and an innocent civilian. So, I have this to look forward to every week?"

"Every other week, technically, but yeah, pretty much."

Hermione sighed in resignation. "You're lucky you're so good in bed. I wouldn't put up with this for just anyone, you know."

"Nah, you'd never leave me," I said confidently.

"How do you know that?" she asked, arching one eyebrow.

"Simple: because there aren't any other parselmouths." I then imagined a snake and hissed, opening my mouth enough to ensure that my vibrating tongue was easily visible.

Now it was Hermione's turn to flush - and if I was right, it went pretty far down. "Do we actually have to wait for Batman?" she asked in a husky voice.

"I dunno. Part of the point is, you know, to build anticipation."

Hermione craned her neck to look around the room, filled with equally bored bad guys, then turned back to me. "We can either listen to these two villains rant and rave for however long it takes the Dynamic Duo to rescue us, or we can..." She leaned closer and started to whisper in my ear.

It's been said that a person's most important sex organ is their brain. And Hermione's brain is... big. Really big.

Size does matter.

A little less than an hour later...

The doors to the factory burst open as Batman and Robin charged in heroically.

"Cease and desist, evildoers!" Batman called out. "If you give up now, we promise that things will go easier on you with the police."

"Holy fallen dominoes, Batman, look at everyone! They're all unconscious."

"They're more than that, Robin," Batman said as he knelt down next to a Goon. "Judging by the cuts and bruises on this poor man, he was involved in a horrific fight. And lost."

"Maybe the all turned against each other?" Robin suggested.

"Unlikely, Robin, look!" Batman said, pointing to where the Joker and the Penguin were unconscious, wrapped in rope, and hanging upside down, slowly spinning.

"Holy hanging sides of beef, Batman! They've been beaten worst of all. What happened to them?"

"The more important question, Robin, is what happened to Batgirl and Bookworm?"

"You're right, I don't see them anywhere."

"Don't use your eyes, Robin. Instead... use your ears."

As silence fell, both could hear low, desperate moaning that seemed to be coming from a door on the far side of the room.

"There!" Batman exclaimed. "Whatever fiend did all of this is now torturing poor, defenseless Batgirl and Bookworm! Quick, Robin, there's not a second to waste!" They raced across the room to save their comrades, but just before they reached the door, they heard a scream that echoed throughout the factory:

"Yes! Yes! Sweet Baby Maeve!"

Batman and Robin froze in shock for several long moments, having absolutely no idea what to do next.

Finally, Robin broke the silence by whispering, "Holy Sapphic Climax, Batman! I told you we didn't have time to stop to sign autographs."

Batman shifted his feet uncomfortably when he answered, "I suppose you're right, old chum. It seems that our curvy crime-fighting partner truly has a partner of her own, now." He stopped to wipe a tear from his mask before saying in a tremulous voice, "They grow up so fast."

"Don't worry Batman," Robin responded, putting his hand on his mentor's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

Just then, a tall, voluptuous blonde wearing an extremely small number of strategically-placed white feathers and little else came running into the factory. "Zere you are! You ran away zo fast, I 'ad trouble keeping up!" She grimaced and reached down to ease a strap on her sparkly high heels.

"Sorry about that, Firebird," Batman replied. "We were running late in rescuing Batgirl and Bookworm."

"Where are zey?"

Firebird's question was almost immediately answered by a different but familiar voice crying out from behind the closed door: "Oh! Oh! Right there! Oh! Oh, yes!"

"Ah, zat eez where zey are." She then leaned over and began to twirl a finger in Robin's hair as she looked down the front of his costume. "Hmmm... zat gives me all zorts of ideas, Beeg Boy."

"Oh, boy," Robin breathed out, sounding more than a little tired.

"I 'ave been finding myself very lonely for Deek," she said. "And I will not 'ave much time to play with Deek when Gabrielle comes to visit."

"But that's not for another month!"

"Zen we 'ave not ze time to waste!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and heading for another door.

"Well, I can see I'm no longer needed here," Batman declared. "Back to the Batcave!"

"Batman?" Robin called out desperately... but not too desperately. "Batman!"

Diagon Alley. December 31, 1999.

The witches and wizards scurrying in the rain below me are completely oblivious to the dangers that lurk in the shadows of their neat, orderly existence. Diagon Alley appears safe during the day, but the rot and corruption are never far below the surface, always threatening to burst forth and consume any innocents unlucky enough to be caught in their path.

The rain coming down on me is like a baptism. I am Batgirl, yet I am also a witch. I have been reborn, a new hero for a magical world. I am….

"What are you doing?"

I jumped in surprise, not having realized that Hermione had returned.

"What are you doing?" she asked again. "I've been back for several minutes already, watching you just stand there, looking off into the distance."

"Umm..."

"Where you running an internal monologue again?" she demanded, her fists on her hips.

"Yes?" I answered weakly.

"Honestly! You know dark and broody doesn't fit you. I get that you want to differentiate yourself from Bruce and Dick, but sometimes you take it too far."

"Sorry," I mumbled sheepishly. "It just happens sometimes…."

"Never mind," she said with a sigh as she stepped up next to me at the edge of the roof. "Anything going on here?"

"Nothing new. How was your patrol?"

"I found Dung, but he didn't have anything for us."

"Nothing at all about that gang we've been hearing whispers about?" I asked.

She shook her head, looking worried. "I left Igor there to watch him for a while longer, though, just in case he was holding back."

"I'll bet Igor didn't like that."

"That's putting it mildly. He actually hissed at me!" Hermione complained.

"I'll talk to him. It was a good idea."

There was a long silence while we each contemplated the potential danger being posed by the new Dark Arts gang. Everything we'd heard so far about them was bad, but we hadn't been able to find out anything but vague rumors. We couldn't afford to ignore them, though, because I was certain that they would be our first real challenge as magical crime fighters. Wizarding Britain's underworld had been in disarray ever since Voldemort and some of his top lieutenants had been shoved through the Veil of Death.

Minister Fudge, outraged that the Dark Lord had dared come back and threaten to ruin his peaceful existence, had decided to sweep the entire thing under the rug by getting rid of them all. Permanently. No bodies, no evidence, no problems, at least in Fudge's mind. Luckily Amelia Bones was one of those in the know and forced him to pardon Sirius before Pettigrew was eliminated.

So Voldemort was gone, unless you listened to Dumbledore. I had heard through the grapevine that the old wizard continued to insist that Voldemort had somehow survived, though he apparently wasn't explaining how or why. His stubbornness on the issue had created such a rift between him and the Ministry that he lost all his positions except Headmaster of Hogwarts, and even that was tenuous. Fortunately he hadn't tried to drag me into his issues; the last time we met, he simply looked at my forehead, frowned, and walked away muttering.

It's a pity that he had wasted his political capital on chasing ghosts instead of trying to improve society. Both after Voldemort's first "death" and after his second (and hopefully final) death, neither he nor anyone else had tried to make changes to deal with the conditions that had made him and his movement possible in the first place. As a result, wizarding Britain was sliding deeper and deeper into decay.

"They'll make a mistake eventually," I said. "Then we'll take them down."

"Do you still think that former Death Eaters are involved?" she asked.

I nodded. Some of Voldemort's old followers had gotten away and were unaccounted for, including Lucius Malfoy, who hadn't been seen by anyone since the battle in the graveyard.

"Then we'll just keep looking," Hermione said. "At least this means we get some extra free time on New Year's Eve, though."

"You want to head back in this early?" I asked. "We've barely done anything."

Hermione leaned in close and whispered, "I'll put on that Catwoman outfit you got me for Christmas..."

I shivered, feeling that familiar stirring in my utility belt again. It definitely wasn't the fish, either. "Mmm, tempting. But I'd like to do one more sweep of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley before calling it a night - I mean, if that's OK?" I said, unwilling to go home too early, but also very anxious to see how Hermione planned on using that gift.

That big brain of hers could be very creative.

"OK," she said. "Say, that reminds me, did you ever hear back from Gotham about the Christmas gifts we sent?"

"Oh, yeah, I completely forgot to tell you about that. Bruce says that Fleur hasn't let Dick out of her room since Christmas Day. He hasn't dared open the door to check himself - apparently being on the receiving end of her fireballs once was more than enough for him. So he wrote and demands that we explain what it was we sent her."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Really? I'm surprised that someone like her didn't already have a copy of the Magical Kama Sutra." I simply shrugged. "Has Dick figured out how much you've been helping her?" she asked.

"Not as far as I know," I answered with a smirk.

"Oh, you minx!"

"Deek needs a woman with a firm hand," I said, mangling Fleur's accent. "I should know, I grew up with him."

"Well, I'm sure Fleur will keep him pointed in the right direction," Hermione agreed. "Ready to do our last sweep... before heading home? Dobby will have cookies and hot chocolate waiting for us. Then we can do... other things." She ran a single finger teasingly down the front of my chest.

I nodded and smiled, very much looking forward to what she had in mind, but forcing myself to keep my head in the game. Just because everything looked quiet right now didn't mean that the streets were safe.

Beware, evildoers! Batgirl and Bookworm are on the prowl!

Meanwhile, in Hogsmeade….

"Report, Shack," Amelia Bones ordered. As head of the DMLE, she wouldn't normally be called out to a crime scene, especially not on New Year's Eve, but this one was different.

This one was much, much worse than normal.

"It's a mess, Madam Bones," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, looking and sounding more tired than she could ever remember. "I've never seen anything like it. Everyone in the Hogshead who was celebrating New Year's Eve has been cursed, and pretty badly, too. They should all make it, but... I don't think they'll ever be the same."

"Can't the healers counter the curses?"

"No one recognizes the spell used. It's unlike anything they've ever seen. People's faces have been twisted into horrible, mocking grins... they're almost unrecognizable now. I'm not sure it wouldn't have been kinder to have just killed them all."

"Any indications of who did it?

"No, ma'am," Shacklebolt said. "The only piece of evidence is this." He held out an evidence bag with what looked like a card with writing on it.

"A tarot card?" she asked, holding it up and examining it by the light of her wand.

He nodded. "The Fool. It was stuck to the bar with a cursed knife. On the back someone wrote the words, 'Our journey begins.'"

"What in Merlin's name is going on here, Shack?"

"I wish I knew, ma'am, but I've got a bad feeling about this…."

A/N: The "Beeg Boy" line is a reference to fact that Burt Ward, while short of stature, was "blessed" in other ways. So blessed, in fact, that the Catholic League of Decency forced ABC to do something about the large bulge that was always visible when he wore his tights.