A Real Bad Joke

Summary: It was all just a really bad joke. The kind of humour the new Harry Potter decided he liked. Year 3 onwards AU. OOC, OC, Dark Humour and Themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise nor the Batman one.

A/N: This is somewhat based off of an amazing NARUTO/Batman crossover I read entitled NU: The Killing Joke. I suggest everyone who is a fan of either series read it. It's rather old and hasn't been updated in a while, but what it has currently is just great.

I can use some character ideas. This is pretty much Harry Potter characters taking on Batman characters' personalities. At the bottom of the chapter, I will put a list of all the characters I have decided for, although I am willing to take changes on some. I'll indicate the ones I won't change.

"Give me just enough information so that I can lie convincingly."
― Stephen King

Chapter 1: Smile

Harry lay on his bed, angrily thinking over what had happened in the past few hours. Aunt Marge, though she had no relation to him, had come four whole weeks earlier than she was supposed to. Boy, did she surprised everyone! Harry had been tending the garden when he heard that familiar dog bark and snappy voice, and he ran inside to tell the family that she was in the drive, paying the cab fare. Vernon had stormed out of the house and almost shouted at her! Harry had to admit, that was funny. But she had come before he could clean the house completely, making the Dursley's angry at him. He rolled onto his side and huffed. It wasn't his fault Marge didn't follow the Plan. She's the one who came early! How was he supposed to know that she'd be there that day? 'With your damned freakiness boy!' Vernon had shouted at him, before he all but threw Harry into his room. His green eyes snapped to the door when a plate was shoved through the cat-flap installed in it. Harry sighed. At least he was getting full plates this time around. At the end of his first year, he barely got scraps. He forced himself to get off of his bed and walk across the room. He picked up the plate and made his way to the small desk in the corner of the room. He placed the plate on it, and flopped back down onto his bed. He wasn't very hungry. Harry rolled onto his side again, and stared at the wall, bored. Why couldn't the Weasley's come get him like they did before?

Harry glared at his bedroom's ceiling from his spot in his desk chair. 'Stupid Aunt Marge,' He thought, kicking his legs. 'why does she never follow the Plan? Stupid Schemers always have a Plan! She's a Dursley, the Dursleys always follow the same stupid scheming Plan!' He blinked. Where had that rant come from? Harry shook his head, and returned his attention to the point at hand. Marge had up and left that day, not even two days after she arrived. She was supposed to stay a week, though she had the excuse of needed to care for her "Babies." 'They're just stupid mutts.' Vernon blamed him for her leaving, though he had no interaction with the family aside from whoever pushed plates through his door. But no! In Vernon's puny mind, Harry's freakishness had made his sister up and leave! Harry licked his suddenly dry lips, and reached for one of his inkwells and a quill. Perhaps if he wrote to the Weasley's, they'd come for him?

He hadn't sent the letter he wrote yesterday. September 1st was only three weeks away, after all. He could wait it out, he did it before. Harry ripped the letter into pieces, and leaned back in his chair. Besides, the Weasley's were petty schemers too, following Dumbledore's stupid Plan. If he wrote them, he probably wouldn't get a response anyways. They never responded last year. Perhaps that was part of Dumbledore's Plan? To isolate him. Yes, it made sense. Dumbledore was one of the worst schemers... but why does he want Harry isolated? Harry sighed, unable to think of a suitable reason why the headmaster wanted him all alone. 'Stupid schemers don't need a reason...'

It had been four whole days since he'd been trapped in his room. Harry lay awake, thinking. It was nearing three in the morning. Or, Harry thought it was. He didn't exactly have a clock in his room, and he wasn't adept at reading the moon to tell time. Hell, he didn't even remember the date. Had it really been four days he'd been imprisoned? Or had it been longer? Or perhaps it had only been a day? When had Marge left? Harry knew she had left at least a couple of days ago. He had counted the number of times the sun rose. Then again, that wasn't a reliable way of differentiating how the days passed. Harry frowned, and sat up, allowing his dishevelled black hair fall in front of his eyes. He should ask for a clock- an alarm clock, one of the ones that displayed the date. 'Sometimes,' Harry thought, moving himself off of his bed to pace the room. 'I think that everyone's a schemer. It's like a big, bad, joke. One that no one finds funny!' Harry blinked, and slowly started to smile, a giggle rising in his throat. 'Yes! Of course, that's it! It's all a joke, a really bad joke! Being treated like a slave, only to find out I'm a Wizard! But the punchline, what's the punchline?' Harry's smile dropped. What was the punchline?

'Death.' The word came to him the next night. He heard the Dursley's laughing, watching the television. Harry felt himself start to smile again. 'Death. Death, death, death, death! Their death, everyone's death, my death, that's the punchline!' He smothered a laugh, and sat down on the edge of his bed. 'Hehehe, of course that's the punchline! Silly schemers thought that they could muck about in this really bad joke and come out living?' More laughter built up in him. 'No, no, no! They can't! Because they can't see the funny side!' Harry didn't bother trying to smother the manic laugh that burst from him. It wasn't that loud, at first, and it blended in with the Dursley's laughter. After a few minutes, the Dursley's stopped laughing, but Harry hadn't. It was just so damn hilarious! His laughter increased in volume, and he vaguely heard the television being turned down.

"BOY! Shut that laughter up!" Harry let his laughter die off into giggles. He stood, a hand now covering his mouth to hush himself, and stumbled towards the door of his room. He tried to open it, but it was still locked. That only served to make Harry fall into another round of loud giggles. He pounded on the door, slamming his full weight into it.

"Now now, this isn't funny at all. Can't let them keep me locked up, that's part of the Plan, gotta get outta this room, gotta introduce a little anarchy to their silly Plan..." Harry said, kicking the door roughly. With one last kick, the door blew right off it's hinges, surprising Harry a little. "Magic, magic's gotta have done something to my leg..."

"BOY! Stop that ruckus!"

"Alright!" Harry shouted, making his way down the staircase. "Heeheheheehe..." He got to the last step before his Uncle came to see what he had been doing.

"Boy! What are you doing out of your room!" His Uncle's watery eyes looked to the top of the stairs, where Harry's bedroom door lay. "You! You little-"

"Nah, nah, nah! Nuh-uh Uncle!" Harry waggled a finger at his Uncle as he dodged the man's poor lunge at him.

"What did you do!" Vernon shouted, leering intimidatingly at Harry, who just burst into giggles.

"Nuh-uh Unca' Verny! Can't let your silly little Plan ruin my fun!" His Aunt and Cousin were peeking out of the sitting room, watching the grown man glare at the giggling boy. "Nuh-uh, can't have that!" His giggles trailed off, and he frowned. "Say, wanna know how I ended up living with you?" Harry asked, staring at Vernon seriously. "You see, it was a dark Halloween night and-"

"I know how you came to be here you freak!" Harry glared.

"Now, that wasn't nice. You interrupted my story! It was a funny story!"

"Nothing you say is funny you damn freak!" His Cousin shouted, leaving the sitting room with a fist raised. Harry's frown deepened.

"Violence is funny though... so Dudders, you must see the funny side, yes?" Dudley gained a confused expression.

"Funny side? There ain't no funny side!" Harry sighed.

"Poor Dursley's, it's hopeless. Perhaps one day you'll see the funny side?" Harry tilted his head. "Wanna hear a really funny joke?" Before any of them could respond, Harry continued. "See, three men were in an alleyway, waiting for their dealer to show up. One man says, 'Where's da' guy?' and another responds, 'I dunno.' And the third guy, guess what he says!" Harry started giggling. "NOTHING!" He shouted. "The third guy says nothing, 'cause he's dead, the men murdered him for his wallet and watch!" Harry began laughing, as if the things he said was hilarious. After a minute or so, Harry noticed that the Dursley's weren't laughing or even smiling. "Why aren't you laughing? It was funny!"

"N-No it-"

"It was FUNNY! So laugh!" Harry shouted, getting angry at them. 'Why aren't they laughing! Everyone should be laughing, my joke was hilarious! They could've at least smiled!'

"Y-You freak, you-"

"SMILE! LAUGH! Now!" Harry slammed a fist into the wall behind him, leaving a dent in it. He was scowling angrily now. Petunia stepped forward, gently ushering Dudley behind her.

"B-But you're not smiling...?" She said, trailing off into a question. Harry blinked. 'She's right, I'm not smiling, I don't find it funny either!' He slapped a hand to his mouth. How could he be so hypocritical? He wasn't smiling, no wonder they weren't too!

"I...I..." Harry breathed deep. How? How could he make himself smile? He saw his Uncle glance at the knives in the kitchen. Harry's eyes widened. 'Yes, yes, that's a way! But no, can't get to the knives in the kitchen. Gotta be another way, gotta be... razors, Uncle Vernon's razors!' Harry giggled and turned to the stairs. "You're right Aunt Petunia, I can't smile all the time... but I do know way I can!" He grabbed the railing and slowly made his way up the stairs.

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. He was smiling, but this smile could fade at any moment. He needed something that could last forever... he looked at the door. Stomping footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Harry reached over to the door, and locked it, before returning his attention to the mirror. 'Something permanent, scars are pretty and permanent, 'cept the one on my head.' He thought, yanking open the medicine cabinet. He scanned the different shelves, but didn't see what he wanted. "Hmm... if I was a razor blade, where would I hide?" He muttered, closing the cabinet and opening the drawer under the sink. He grinned wide at the sight of a new package of razor blades. "Bingo! Come to daddy..." He snatched the package up, and ripped it open, spilling the blades into the sink. He turned on the tap, letting the water run over the blades, before picking one up. He smiled widely, a bubble of laughter coming from him, and brought the blade to his mouth, just as someone began pounding on the door.

Insane laughter could be heard coming from the washroom Harry was in. The Dursley's were huddled outside the door, waiting to see what the boy had done to himself. Why had Petunia's smile comment make him rush to the washroom and lock himself in? They whispered ideas to themselves as they thought about it.

"...razors. Razor blades!" Vernon shouted. Petunia gasped and Dudley just looked confused.

"Why's that a bad thing dad?"

"Hun, how about you head off to your room, okay?" Petunia said, pushing the youngest Dursley towards his room.

"But mum! I wanna know!"

"It's none of your business! Now, go to your ROOM!" Vernon said, ending with a shout. Dudley whined, but obeyed and left. Once his son was out of sight, Vernon knocked harshly on the washroom door. "BOY! What are you doing in there!" All he got in response was a grunt of pain and some more laughter. "BOY!"

"Vernon, you don't think he's..." Petunia started, not wanting to suggest that her nephew was really considering suicide. Vernon looked at her and shook his head.

"The boy snapped, you saw him. He thought his three guys story was a joke!" Petunia nodded.

"Well... he wouldn't... you know?" Before Vernon could respond, the door unlocked and opened. Her nephew stumbled out, laughing still, a bloodied hand covering his mouth. Petunia looked behind the boy, and sucked in short breath. The sink was filled with razor blades, the water in it red. The mirror was covered in red hand-prints. She did not want to know where all the red came from.

"Heeheeheeheheheheeehehe..." His laugh was muffled, and he tried to make his way around Vernon to his room.

"Boy! What did you do in there?!" Harry just laughed a little louder. "BOY!"

"I just-" He was interrupted by giggles. "I jus' wanna smile all the time!" He started laughing once again, dropping both his hands to his stomach. The two Dursley's were horrified at the rough cuts winding their way up the boy's face, forming a mockery of a smile. Harry swayed, his laughter subsiding. "But, ah, I don't feel right good anymore..." He collapsed, breathing roughly and still smiling.

"Pet, call an ambulance, he ain't recovering from this on his own..." Vernon said quietly, as Petunia rushed off to find the phone.

"999, what's your emergency?"

"This is Petunia Dursley, Number 4 Privet Drive! My nephew, he slashed his face up! He's bleeding a lot, it won't stop! Please, we need an ambulance right away!"

"Don't worry ma'am, an ambulance is on it's way! Try to staunch the bleeding for now. Can you do that for me, ma'am?"

"Y-Yes, yes, I can..."

"Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley?" A police officer asked, as he made his way towards the horrified couple. Vernon nodded.

"Yes officer?" The officer gestured to the ambulance that just started driving off.

"Your nephew, how did he get the wounds?"

"He did it to himself... said something 'bout always wanting to smile, something 'bout finally seeing the funny side of things. He went off his rocker, just 'cause we grounded him for the week..." The officer raised a brow. This was new. He never heard of a child who hurt himself just because he was grounded.

"Right. So your nephew, his name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter." The officer wrote that down and nodded.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"He... he was laughing. He was laughing as he walked outta the bathroom, laughing that now he would always be smiling! I knew sending him to that fancy boarding school wasn't gonna help him!"

"Fancy boarding school?"

"Hog-something. They said it would be good for 'im. Well look at him!"

"I see. Well, the hospital will contact you once your nephew is out of surgery. I suggest taking him to a therapist, from what you told me, the boy has some issues." Petunia sobbed. "Ma'am?"

"I just... I can't believe he'd do something like that to himself! He reminds me so much of my sister!" Vernon pulled her into a hug.

"It's alright Pet, he'll be fine..."

Vernon couldn't stop staring at his nephew from the rear-view mirror, as they drove home from the hospital. He had gone to pick up the boy from his four-day stay in the hospital. The doctors had told the police that the wounds were self-inflicted, and they dropped the charges against the Dursley's for Child Abuse. Vernon glanced in the mirror once again. Harry was sitting in the backseat, a white medical mask covering the lower half of his face, giggling. He was given a box of masks to give to Harry so that his wounds wouldn't become infected. The doctors told Vernon and Petunia that Harry would have the scars for the rest of his life. When they told Harry that, the boy just started laughing, exclaiming that he'd finally be able to smile all the time. It freaked the doctors out, but they had a job to do, as Harry had reopened his wounds.

"Ah, Unca' Verny, say, can we get some food?" Harry said, breaking Vernon from his memory. Vernon glanced in the mirror, and saw Harry looking directly at it.

"S-Sure. What do you want?" Harry giggled, having been forbidden from outright laughter for a long while, and pointed out the window.

"I want to go to the deli."

"H-How about we pick some meat and bread up at the store and have sandwiches at home?" Vernon wouldn't admit it, but the way his nephew glared for a few seconds before shrugging frightened him.

"Hm, that's fine. Sure, why not? Maybe goin' to the deli is part of the Plan, and you wanna break from it?"

"Y-Yes, that's it, you caught me!" Vernon said, taking a right turn, heading for the grocery store. Harry giggled some more.

"I knew it! I knew you'd see the funny side! Or perhaps you just wanna not be seen with me and my smile?" Vernon shook his head.

"No, no, I see the funny side, I swear!" He knew the boy was smiling behind that mask.

"Great! Say, wanna hear a really funny joke?"

About three days later, Vernon came home from work later than usual, with a pale face. Harry glanced up from his spot on the couch, where he was watching Dudley fail at playing a video game. While he did hate white masks he had to wear, he knew that it was better than getting an infection. He smiled and leaned over the back of the couch.

"Ah, Unca' Verny! What's wrong?" Petunia, hearing Harry's question, poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Dear, what is it?" Vernon swallowed.

"My work, you know that annual tour of the Chemical Plant my company owns? You know, Axis Chemicals?" Petunia nodded.

"Yes, I remember. What of it?"

"Well, after hearing of the boy's freak out, they pushed the tour forward three weeks, so that he could come along and see the factory, tomorrow!" Harry raised his eyebrows. What is this annual tour? Sure, when he was younger there was a day when Dudley didn't go to school with him, but he thought it was just something Petunia did 'cause Dudders said he didn't want to go. Harry tuned back into the conversation after Vernon called his name. "Harry, boy, you are to wear your best clothes, you hear me? And make sure one of your masks are on, don't want no one seeing those cuts of yours!"

"But why Unca' Verny? My smile's just fine! Everyone'll smile once they see my smile!"

"Absolutely not!" Vernon shouted, before taking a deep breath and calming himself down. "Look, Harry, you remember what the doctors said. You have to keep your mask on, or else you might get an infection." Harry sighed and nodded sadly.

"I know, I know Unca' Verny. But I don't wanna keep it on."

"But you have to. Now, all of us, to bed. We need to get up early tomorrow for the tour!"

Harry stared up at the factory from the car window. He was in his best clothes; a simple green vest over top a blue shirt and a pair of purple slacks. His Uncle pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot, next to a bunch of other cars. Harry adjusted his mask and grumbled under his breath. 'Why can't I just smile? All I wanna do is show people my smile. All the damn schemers get to see my smile, and then they'll smile, and then everyone will see the funny side! And the Plan will be ruined! The Joke will be shared forever!' He giggled and unbuckled his seat belt. He got out of the car, and followed his relatives into the factory.

"Dursley! You're here! Great, now we just have to wait for Smith and Fields to get here, and we can start!" A jovial man said, smiling widely at the family. "Oh? Is this your nephew?" He held a hand out to Harry. "Hiya sonny, I'm Floyd, Floyd Whittle. Nice to meet you!" Harry blinked and grabbed the hand.

"Harry Potter. Say, wanna hear a really funny joke?" Harry said, a grin forming on his face. Floyd shook his head with a smile.

"Sorry son, but I don't have time for jokes." Vernon clapped a hand down on Harry's shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout that Whittle. I hope my nephew didn't bother you much?"

"Nah, he's a nice kid. Ah, Smith! You're here!" Floyd shouted, making his way to the front, where a brown haired, stocky man walked in. Harry pouted. No one wants to hear his jokes! And to think, the one he was gonna tell him was by far his funniest!

"Boy, no jokes. You have to be on your best behaviour here, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah Unca' Verny. Best behaviour, got it." Harry scuffed his feet against the ground. He looked around the factory, before spotting a hidden staircase leading up to the catwalks about them. Harry glanced at the large vats of chemicals around him, and he wondered what colour the chemicals inside were. "Say, Unca' Verny, where's the washroom? I gotta go badly!" He lied, hopping from foot to foot. Vernon looked down at him and sighed.

"You see that sign there?" Vernon pointed at an arrow pointing down a hall. "Follow it and turn right at the end of the corridor. Got it?" Harry nodded and raced off down the hall. He looked over his shoulder, and saw everyone talking with each other, and not paying any attention to him. He smiled and sneaked over to the staircase. Looking once more at the group behind him, he began climbing the stairs.

Green. Green chemicals, wasn't that funny? Stereotypical green chemicals. Harry giggled as he stared down into the large vat. He was standing on the catwalk, high above the group of squabbling people. He leaned further over the rail, and sniffed the air. 'Gross! Smells so funny, hehehehe! I wonder if it tastes just as funny?' He started laughing quietly to himself, feeling his wounds pull and start bleeding a little. 'Keheehehehehee! Oopsy, I didn't follow the doctors orders! Poor doctors, I ruined their Plan!' Harry climbed on top of the rail, and sat on it, grinning down at the chemicals.

"HEY! KID! What are you doing up there!" Someone shouted at him, making Harry nearly jump out of his skin. He fell forward, and choked on a scream. He grabbed hold of the edge of the catwalk, and felt air brush across his mouth. 'Air?' He raised a hand to his mouth to cover it. 'Uh-oh, not good, nuh-uh, not at all!' His mask had fallen off, and was now floating mockingly atop the green chemicals.

"Oh, oh no, my mask, uh-oh, I ruined the Plan further, oopsy..." He muttered, smiling down at the mask.

"Kid! Are you alright! Here, give me your hands!" Harry glanced up, and spotted one of the workers reaching out for him. The worker grabbed the arm that was holding onto the catwalk, and held out a hand expectantly. "C'mon kid, give me your hand. I don't bite!" The man joked, and Harry giggled. 'Finally, someone who can make a joke in this place!' Harry weighed his options. On one hand, he could let the man drag him up by one arm, possibly hurting him, well on the other, he could give him his hand and show him his smile... Harry grinned, and slowly moved his hand away from his mouth.

"Thank you mistah." Harry said, lifting his head to stare at the man.

"Ack!" The man jumped back at the sight of his smile, letting go of Harry's arm in the process. Harry barely had time to frown slightly before his grip loosened. 'Oh, he doesn't like my smile. He doesn't see the funny side! Darn, and I rather liked him...' Harry felt his grip start to break and he started laughing, frightening the man even more.

"C'MON! Can't you see the funny SIDE?!" Harry shouted, laughing, before he let go of the catwalk. He continued laughing as people screamed. He continued to laugh as he plunged deep into the green chemicals. He continued laughing as his vision blackened.

"HARRY!" Petunia screamed, seeing her nephew fall from the catwalk into the vat of chemicals. Vernon stood, frozen, Dudley screaming at his side. People started shouting and screaming loudly as one of the workers pushed an alarm button and started shutting down the factory.

"Please evacuate the building. Calmly evacuate the building please." An automated voice rang out through the intercom, and people started shoving to get out of the building.

"Pet, come on, we gotta go!" Vernon urged, pulling Petunia towards the exit.

"But Harry!" Vernon shook his head.

"Pet, it's too late! He's gone! And we gotta go!" Petunia allowed her husband to drag her and their son out of the building. Sirens echoed in the distance, indicating that the police were on their way.

In a large castle deep in the woods of Scotland, a bearded man sat in a large chair, sipping a cup of warmed milk. The man relaxes contently in his chair, as he read over the finalized lesson plans from his staff.

"Mister Dumbly sir, Mippy brings cookies!" A small house-elf popped into the room, and the man, Dumbledore, smiled.

"Thank you Mippy. Set them on the desk, please." The house-elf nodded and did so, before popping away, most likely back to the kitchens. Dumbledore smiled and grabbed a cookie, absently nibbling on it as he flipped over one of the pages before him. "Hm, Minerva has changed her plans for Transfiguration this year." He said as he read over what she had wrote. "I don't see anything wrong with it. Approved!" He signed the bottom of the page, and set it to the side to give to her later. As he reached for the next lesson plan, an alarm sounded loudly through the room. Dumbledore jumped to his feet and grabbed a small silver trinket from the shelf behind him. This small trinket was the one he used to monitor Harry Potter's health. The only time it would sound out it's alarm was if the boy had... died. Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he dropped the trinket, breaking it into several pieces. It couldn't be. Harry should be with his relatives in their home, happy and safe, if a bit miffed because he wasn't at Hogwarts! Dumbledore grabbed a sock that he kept to the side in case of a Port-Key emergency. "Portus." He said, tapping his wand to the sock. The spell was designed to take him to the closest muggle-free place at Harry's last known location. A sharp tug came at his naval, and he found himself behind what looked like a recently abandoned factory. As he made his way around the side of the building, he transfigured his robes into a hot pink muggle suit. He looked around at all the people gathered in front of the factory, and spotting the Dursley's off to the side, their eyes wide in horror. Dumbledore frowned and started making his way towards them.

A pale hand shot out of the chemicals in the vat, grabbing hold of the ladder rungs embedded in the side of it. A thin bodied boy pulled himself out of the chemicals, a confused, yet deranged, smile on his face, pulling at the scars on his cheeks. The boy's once black hair was now mostly green, and his green eyes shone brighter than ever before. He licked his lips and, quick as he could, pulled himself out of the vat and down to the ground.

"...hmm? Where am I?" He said, brushing off the remaining green goop that clutched onto him. "What's my name? I'm pretty sure it's Harry, but why is it that? What is my surname?" He wondered out loud, heading towards a small door in the side of the factory, a bright red sign saying exit above it. Harry tilted his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Ah, well, such a thing as a surname would be part of the Plan. Heh, the name Harry ain't to snazzy. I need a new one..." He pushed open the door and, stumbling ever so slightly, made his way towards the large city in the distance.

"Mr and Mrs Dursley!" Dumbledore shouted, making his way towards the couple and their child. Petunia was shaking and Vernon kept glancing at the building behind them. "Please, tell me, what happened to Harry?" The two glanced at each other and Vernon nodded.

"Mr... ah, your name is again?"

"Dumbledore."

"Mr. Dumbledore, Harry, uh, well, he wasn't very... okay for the past few weeks." Dumbledore frowned.

"How so? When he left Hogwarts, he was fine." Dumbledore vaguely noticed that a police officer had walked up, and was listening to their conversation, jotting down a few notes.

"Um, he... mentally, something in him snapped, err, we think. You see, he and my sister, Marge, never got on. And she was set to visit this week, but she came earlier than expected." Dumbledore nodded. "She and Harry had a row, and we grounded him for a week. My sister left the next day, as she needed to take care of her dogs at home. Harry sat in his room, and we only saw him when we brought him some food. He never wanted to come out, you see." The lie slid off Vernon's tongue easily, and Dumbledore had no idea that he was lying. "Then one night, a few days ago, he just... he just started laughing. And laughing and laughing. He wouldn't stop! He broke his door down, and stumbled downstairs, still laughing, and he... he tells us this horrible story that he thinks was a joke!" Dumbledore furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Story?" Vernon gulped and Petunia shook her head.

"He said... he said, 'You wanna hear a funny joke?' and he started giggling before continuing, 'Three men are waiting for their dealer in an alley. One man says where is this guy and the other says that he doesn't know,' and Harry... it's what he said next that's horrible. Harry asked us, 'Guess what the third guy said!' and then he shouted, 'nothing! The third guy said nothing, 'cause he's dead! The other two murdered him for his watch and wallet!' and then Harry just... Harry just started laughing even more..." Dumbledore's eyes widened. "He asked us why we weren't laughing or smiling, and then P-Pet said that he couldn't keep smiling either... and the boy... Harry, he cut his face up, like those Chelsea Smile killings! It was horrible! He was bleeding out but all he did was smile and laugh! We took him to the hospital. And my boss, he asked us to come on the tour of this here building," Vernon pointed to the factory. "after hearing of Harry's freak out. Harry asked where the bathroom was and I told him, but he somehow ended up on the catwalk that overlooked the chemical waste that was getting ready for removal." Dumbledore gave a slight nod. He didn't quite know what a chemical was, but from what Severus had told him, it was kind of like a potion. "A worker accidentally startled Harry, and he fell off the catwalk, right into the chemicals. No one could stop him... but, he... Harry, he was laughing. As he fell into the chemicals and... d-died, he was laughing, laughing like a lunatic!" The police officer soothed the estranged man, and, nodding to Dumbledore, lead them towards an ambulance. Dumbledore frowned and looked up at the factory. He gave a quick glance around, and, making sure no one was looking, took out his wand and pointed it at the factory.

"Homenum Revelio!" Nothing happened. There was no one in the factory. Dumbledore felt a tear run down his cheek. Harry Potter really was no more.

Harry walked as straight as he could as he let his feet lead him through the large city, which he found out was London, England. He smoothed down his vest, and absently wondered why he was wearing such nice clothes. The chemical factory he woke up in appeared to be vacated, and he heard nothing but sirens in the distance when he left. Perhaps he was in the middle of some sort of bad deal and someone knocked him into the chemical vat. He had stared at his reflection in a store window. The chemicals messed with his hair, head, and smile, though he really rather liked his smile. He felt like something was missing from his forehead, however. The only thing there was a small scar that was barely a half-inch across. Harry distinctly remembered it being large and more prominent, shaped like something. But what? He started walking again, and eventually came to a stop outside of a dingy pub. Harry looked around, and noted that no one seemed to pay the pub much attention. Once again smoothing out his vest, Harry entered the pub.

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron! Do you need help getting into the alley?" Harry nodded, keeping his head down so the man didn't see his smile yet. "Well, I can help you with that! Just follow me, okay?" The man gestured for him to follow as he lead him through a side door into an alley. 'Oh, no, nuh-uh, I don't think this is how it's supposed to be...' The man got out a stick and tapped a brick. Harry raised a brow, only to be amazed when the wall broke apart and revealed a larger alley. "Here you go sonny, Diagon Alley!" The man smiled down at him, and Harry decided that right then was a good time to show him his smile.

"Thank you, mistah. Say, wanna know how I got these... scars?" Harry asked, a grin tugging at his lips. The man backed away, eyes wide. Harry picked up a piece of a shattered bottle off the ground, and smiled at the man. "Ya' see, my alcoholic Uncle, he didn't like me much. And one day, he comes home drunker than usual. Aunty Petty pleads with him to just go lie down, but he won't have it. He grabs a knife from the kitchen, and stabs her!" Harry had to stop himself from laughing. "And then he turns to me. He asks me, 'Why aren't you smiling?' and he comes closer, knife in hand," Harry says, as he moves closer to the horrified man, who tripped over a stone as he tried to back away more. "and then he says, 'Why so serious?' and he puts the knife in my mouth," Harry continued, leaning down over the man, placing the broken bottle in the man's mouth. Harry let his other hand reach out and grab a shard of glass, which he brought to the man's neck. "and he says, 'Let's put a smile on that face!' and he cuts my face up!" Harry starts laughing as he slit the man's throat and carved a grin into the poor man's face. "Hahahaha, oh, heheheheheee!" Harry's laughter faded into giggles, and he wiped the blood off his vest. His nose wrinkled up in disgust. "Ah, now see what ya' did. I need a new vest!" Harry kicked the dead man away, and made his way into Diagon Alley. He was surprised that no one had heard or seen them. He assumed the odd barrier like thing that was hidden as the wall prevented people from looking out. Harry let his feet guide him through the alley.

He soon came to a stop outside of a large golden white building. "Gringotts Bank. Why, ain't that a fancy shmancy name for a bank?" He chuckled at the poem hanging above the door and entered the bank. He spotted a bunch of tiny, weird looking men, and smiled a bit wider.

"Welcome to Gringotts Bank. How may I help you?" A teller asked, not bothering to look up. Harry huffed and ran a hand through his green and black hair.

"I wanna know if I has a vault here. Ya' see, I've had a bit of a memory problem recently." The teller looked up and almost choked.

"A-Ah, Mister Potter, welcome." Harry frowned. 'Potter? What kind of stupid schemer name is that? That has got to go, gotta start my anarchy somewhere.'

"Ya' see, I don't like my name anymore. So I'm changing it. D'you think I can change my vault name, mistah?" The teller nodded.

"Yes, it won't take much. What is your... new name?" Harry had to think on that. What was his new name? 'Well, I do like to make jokes. I think Joker is a great name. Joker... Jo Ker... Joe Kerr...' Harry started giggling. "Mister Pott-"

"No, no, no! My name ain't Potter no more, call me Mistah Kerr. Joe Kerr. Joker, get it? 'Cause I'm a Joker! I'm The Joker!" Harry started laughing. The teller gave a small smile to please the boy. "See! See, ya' get it! You see the funny side! No one else sees the funny side..." Harry trailed off.

"Well, Mister Kerr, your vaults will have their names changed within the week, upon which you'll receive a new key and your old key will be destroyed." Harry grinned, his scars tugging roughly at the movement.

"Great! Fantastic! D'you know where I can get some custom clothes?" Harry licked his lips as the teller told him about some shop name Malkin's down the road. "Good. Say, wanna hear a really funny joke?" The teller raised a brow.

"A joke, Mister Kerr?"

"Yes, yes, a really funny one. Wanna hear it?" The teller shrugged.

"Why not, Mister Kerr."

"Ah, call me Joker." Harry said, and the teller nodded. "Now, two Wizards are blasted by green spells, and both fall over. Guess what they are?" Harry snickered at the teller's slightly confused look. "DEAD!" Harry started laughing. "Dead, dead, dead, 'cause they were hit by one killer curse!" The teller gave a bark of laughter. "Ahahaha! See, see! It's hilarious!"

"Indeed it is Mister Kerr. May I share your joke with some of my comrades?"

"Go ahead! Maybe they'll see the funny side too!" Harry continued laughing as he walked out of the bank. He ignored the looks he was getting, and made his way towards the Malkin's shop the teller had told him about.

He stared through the shop's windows before deciding to go in. The inside was just as cheery looking as the outside, making Harry start snickering. Oh, it would be funny to see it in pieces! The thought of the store exploding into pieces sent him into a fit of giggles.

"Welcome dearie! Hogwarts?" A woman asked, coming out from the back room. Harry frowned. What was a Hogwart? Some sort of pig acne?

"No, I need custom, non-labelled clothes. Can ya' do that for me, missy?" The woman nodded, and gestured for him to stand in a cleared corner.

"Yes, I can. What kind of clothes are you looking for?" Harry motioned to what he was currently wearing.

"Clothes like these, you see, 'cause I need them to bring anarchy to the... Plan." The woman frowned in confusion.

"Plan?"

"Never you mind, you don't see the funny side yet." She just nodded and sent a tape measure to record his sizes. Harry waited patiently for her to finish the job. It didn't take long, only about two hours, to get six outfits that looked exactly like the one he was wearing. 'Magic, that's what it's like. Real funny if you ask me!' He snickered to himself. "Say, do you think I can get a long purple coat to go over it all? Ya' know what, make two coats." She nodded and set to work making the coats. After about forty minutes, she held up the finished product. 'About three to make six outfits and two coats. Why, that's real bloody fast. It's still pretty funny...'

"Here you go son." She gave him a wrapped package. Harry grinned, drawing her attention to his scars. "O-Oh..."

"Thank you missy. Say, wanna hear a real funny joke?"

"S-Sure..." Harry started chuckling.

"Well, there was this nice lady who made clothes. She made really nice, custom clothes, mainly for wizards. And one day, she finds herself on the floor, with no pay for her latest job! Wanna know why?" The woman shook and started backing away from the now sinisterly grinning Harry. "It went something like-" He ran forwards, and slammed the package into her head, sending her sprawling to the ground. "THIS!" Harry burst out laughing. "Ya' see! It's funny!" Harry stopped laughing once he saw that she was unconscious. "Ah, damn, knew that'd happen." Harry stuck the package under an arm, and left the building. "I still think the building would look so nice in pieces." He said, as he walked down the now darkened alley towards the exit. He briefly wondered, as he passed through the barrier into an empty alleyway and out into London, if someone had found that one man's body.

Harry, dressed in one of his new outfits, kicked back in the chair he sat in, placing his legs on the desk in front of him. He glanced out the large window to his left, and grinned down at nighttime London. He looked over at the old, dark brown vanity table off to the side. A couple of buckets of stolen face paint sat on it, stolen from a costume shop a few minutes down the road, waiting for him to open them and use them. The only colours he had stolen, however, were white, black, and red. He pushed away from the desk and sat normally. His hands snatched a playing card off the table. A picture of clown was in the middle of it, and the word Joker was written twice up and down on it. He stood from his chair, and made his way towards the window. He stared out at the stragglers and alcoholics littering the streets, and smiled wide.

"Tell me, London. Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" He let out an insane cackle that could be heard echoing throughout the abandoned office building he was in, and out onto the London streets.

A/N: And that, is the first chapter. Expect all chapters to be this long or even longer. That means, however that it might take a while to write it all out.

So Harry's Joker is like a combination of Dark Knight's Joker and Jack Nicholson's Joker, and a tiny bit like the comics Joker (just less face-ripping-off).

The decided characters are as such:

Harry Potter – Joker

Ginny Weasley – Harley Quinn

Hermione Granger – Catwoman

Neville Longbottom – Poison Ivy

Percy Weasley – The Riddler

Cedric Diggory – Two-Face

Draco Malfoy – Penguin

Dudley Dursley – Bane

Ron Weasely – Batman

Luna Lovegood– Batgirl/Oracle

Harry, Ginny, Neville, Hermione, and Ron are all going to happen, regardless. If anyone has any suggestions for characters, please, don't hesitate to tell me in a review or even through PM, where we can talk about reasons why this character should be this one!

Next Chapter: Poison Touch