I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World or any canon characters.

When becoming a Dark Lord, Voldemort took inspiration from his childhood idol: the Joker

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The man woke slowly. His eyes flickered, looking about without truly seeing. He tried to rub at his face before realizing his hands were bound. The knowledge that he was tied to a chair woke him fully. He struggled, kicked, writhed, and stayed secure in his chair.

"Hey!" he yelled. His voice broke from panic and anger. "Let me go! Do you know who I am?!"

"You are Abraxus Malfoy, one of the so called Sacred 28, Pure-Blood Patrician of a most Ancient and Noble House. A wizard among wizards."

Abraxus sneered, bolstered by the praise, disquieted by how the praise was presented. "Good. I am glad you know my station. Thus you know what would happen once I am free and can enact my vengeance." He looked about the darkened room, his eyes drifting to the figure that sat in a tall-backed chair. "Let me go." He was prepared for all sorts of responses.

He was not prepared to hear his captor chuckle softly.

The other man leaned forward, emerging from the shadows of his chair like a primordial beast rising from ink-black water. Firelight shone on pale marble skin, it revealed soft brown locks of hair, highlighting a face made of angles and harsh lines. "Now why would I release you so early? After all the trouble of capturing you in the first place?"

Abraxus was deeply annoyed and deeply disturbed. "At least you confess to your crime. That will make it easier to throw you into Azkaban. Wait...I know you."

"I should hope so." The man snorted softly, an inelegant sound from an elegant face. "We have spoken many times before."

"Riddle. How dare you do this to me! I thought we were allies!"

"We were," Tom Marvolo Riddle agreed. "Until I thought some more. Until I heard what you have said behind my back." His lips peeled back, revealing even white teeth. "Please, let us skip the denials and just speak honestly to one another."

"Fine. I've said things. You want an apology?"

Tom shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, I should thank you for your words."

Abraxus was very disturbed now, and more than a little afraid as well as confused. "What? What do you mean?"

"All this time, all my plans and machinations, well, your words have made me rethink them. You see, I have heard others speak of me like you do. I thought you and I were on a plane apart, that we had an understanding that others did not. It is clear now that I was a fool. That I will never truly have compatriots to walk the path with me."

Abraxus spat. "You don't fool me Riddle. Compatriots? You have only wanted underlings, subordinates. You have never saw anyone as an equal."

"Just because I do not see equals, do not mean I have thought ill of you. I do not think ills of cats and dogs. They are lesser and that is their lot. I do not begrudge them for it."

"Ha! Your arrogance knows no limits!"

"Just like yours it seems. You think yourself superior to me."

An uneasy silence settled between them, filled by the crackles of the fire.

"It matters not," Tom said softly. "I see now that my plans and dreams were ever foolish. No matter what I did, no matter how great I became, the Wizarding World of Britain would ever accept me, much less the rest of the world. No matter what I do, I will never attain true superiority due to my blood. The one thing I cannot control."

"Your blood?" Abraxus' face twisted. "You're not Pure?"

Tom chuckled without humor. "Even in your state, you are so blinded by your thinking and prejudice. Yes, I will not succeed how I used to think I will. I should have done what I thought to do long ago, to emulate another."

"Emulate another? Who?"

"Tell me Abraxus, do you know why Dark Lords fail? They all do eventually. They all eventually make that fatal mistake. They are betrayed by those they trust. They lose themselves to their staggering ego. They consume themselves in their magic. They think themselves forever apart."

"And you think you're immune to such thinking?" Abraxus was intrigued. "What makes you think you will avoid such a fate?"

"Oh I have no doubts that one day my fate will be just as grim. But I now realize why should I sacrifice much to obtain so little? Ultimately, what does it mean to rule a nation, the world? Why should I invite the tedium of overthrowing a system that hates me for what I am? To change it? No, that sounds horrific. Instead I will embrace the unfairness and make it fair. I will be a part of the natural order of things."

"And pray tell, what is the natural order?"

Tom rose from his chair. "Chaos is the natural order. We try to bring order to the chaos. We try to tame nature to suit our ideals, our vision. That, is arrogance. No. I will succumb fully to chaos. I will burn the Wizarding World, set it aflame, and let life regrow from the ashes. I will go where magic dictates, I will be her agent, and I will sow the seeds of chaos to reap the rewards that grow from it."

"You're insane!" Abraxus shouted.

"Not yet," Tom said. Then he laughed. His laughter started small and it grew and grew. It filled the room, filled Abraxus, shook his body and soul. It chilled him through flesh, into bone, into marrow. Tom's smile was a terrible rictus of frozen hilarity.

"I understand now," Lord Voldemort said while laughing wildly. "The joke. Everything is a joke. You just have to look for it."

"You're insane," Abraxus repeated with a whimper.

"Insanity is perception," Lord Voldemort whispered. His wand came up. "Perception is a lie. Allow the truth to free you, one last time."

The last thing Abraxus Malfoy saw was Lord Voldemort's terrible smile of freedom and horror. When his body was found the next day by Lucius Malfoy and the Aurors, the same smile was affixed to his body. Of Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the Agent of Chaos, there was no sign.

Not yet.