AN: Just this silly little idea I got a while back. Does anyone else out there think Snape would dress up in a Batman costume? He already has the cape...

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own this.

Identity Crisis, Part 1

When Harry was nine years old his cousin, Dudley Dursley, went to America to spend two weeks with his Aunt Marge. Of course Marjorie hadn't even remembered her other nephew, so Harry was left alone with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon for those two weeks.

It should have been better, it should have given Harry some time to relax – at least he'd hoped so – but it was actually the complete opposite. Without anyone to mother, Petunia had become flustered and anxious, her thoughts often wondering about her "sweet, sensitive little darling" and if they were treating him right out there. Vernon, on the other hand, was taking his time to unwind and dump even more chores on his scrawny nephew, going so far as to even call it entertainment.

Those two weeks had been quite a hellish time for Harry but, he amended, at least Dudley wasn't there to add to his suffering.

When Dudley did return, Harry hadn't been sure if he should have been feeling dread or relief. His cousin stepped into his house with his chest puffed out and his chubby stomach hanging, acting like an explorer or a war hero who'd just returned home. Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon took out all the luggage from Aunt Marge's car while Aunt Petunia fussed over her little boy while hugging him and even shedding a few tears.

The sight made Harry decidedly uneasy and wondering if his Aunt would hug him if he went away for two weeks. He almost laughed at the idea. She'd probably get angry and asked him why he couldn't have stayed away for an entire month. Or forever.

Harry sighed. If only he could.

His wistful thinking had been interrupted by a suitcase smacking him square in the chest and Uncle Vernon's voice snapping at him to get the bags up to Dudley's room. Obediently, he'd done just that.

When all the boxes and suitcases were up in Dudley's room and Vernon had ordered Harry to stay on the top floor if he knew what was good for him, Harry turned to leave his cousin's room, only to have something smack into the back of his head.

Harry turned to him in question.

"A gift for you, freak." said Dudley, smiling a smile of a true bully. "They say it's really dark and gory."

Harry blinked and then looked down at the object that had struck him. On first glance, it looked like some ordinary magazine, but on second glance Harry saw what it really was. A comic book.

Bending down he picked it up, examining it. It's cover was dark and looked generally uninviting with the word Batman, written at the top in a yellow oval. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"There's a few more in that box over there. I picked them especially for you." Dudley's sly, almost sing-song voice – that was terribly off key – drifted over the room. Harry knew the last part had been a lie, he'd probably bought them at a flee market, maybe a garage sale. He wouldn't have wasted good money on his freaky, defective cousin.

Harry took an unsure step forward, then another.

He wasn't sure why Dudley was doing it – he said it was gory? So, was he trying to traumatize him? No, Dudley wasn't nearly as clever as that – but he'd take what he could get.

Later that night, in the safety of his little cupboard under the stairs, Harry fished out his flashlight.

He didn't read much, as the Dursleys never bought him books and Dudley didn't like to read so there were no books to be thrown at him when his cousin was done with them. His curiosity had been gnawing at him all day. He wanted to know what was hidden between those dark covers.

That night, Harry Potter stepped into the dark, twisted and wonderful world of Batman and Robin.

At first, the comics had scared them with their dark stories but when Bruce Wayne adopted Richard Grayson, Harry knew he wouldn't be letting go of these comics for a while. He read and read, and though sometimes he got scared or freaked out or sad, there were moments documented in those pages that were worth all the bad stuff.

He marked his favorite pages – and then the best chapters – and read them over whenever he was feeling down or whenever the Dursleys looked him in his cupboard for this reason or that.

Robin kept him company when he was lonely, recounting jokes and thinking up new ways to decimate the English language while Batman hid somewhere in the shadows, watching and protecting innocents from crazy villains.

Like Two-Face, who could be played by Uncle Vernon – since his face could go from it's pudgy pink to red and purple in a blink of an eye sometimes. And Aunt Petunia could play Joker! She was awfully frightening when she went overboard with her make up. Harry wasn't sure what Dudley could be, maybe... a giant, evil walking hamburger?

Still, Harry knew those fantasies weren't real. They couldn't replace the real thing. They couldn't be his parents or his friends and they certainly couldn't rescue him from his life with the Dursleys.

But oh, how he wished they could.

It was because of his admiration and love for the imaginary hero and his young side-kick that Harry embarrassed himself so thoroughly on his first day of Hogwarts. This event might have been avoided if only the esteemed Potions Master of Hogwarts had been present for the Opening Feast and not on business for Dumbledore.

Unfortunately, he was – and that's why on his first school day, in his first Potions class, when Professor Snape entered with the usual theatrical bang! of the door Harry Potter sat dumbfounded, blinked and than sprang to his feet faster than it took Dudley to inhale a strawberry fruitcake and let his face break out into the biggest grin that had ever graced his face in his short life.

"Batman!"

Comments? I'd love to hear them!