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

A/N: Thank you for all of you who reviewed, followed, and/or favourited. I'd like to thank Hellfire and Brimstone for giving a new character idea. Instead of Draco being Scarecrow, I have taken their idea to make him The Penguin. 'cause, does that not make much more sense? Also, please, allow me a week (depending on amount of school work) to six weeks to write these chapters for now. If you read my profile, it states that I am in my final year of high-school, and that's top priority right now.

Ah yes, timeline wise, for those wondering, Harry became the Joker during the summer before third year. This chapter mainly stays within third year and summer before fourth year. Next chapter will be fourth year and a bit of fifth, and so on. Understand? It's rather unconventional to me, but that's just how I pictured it and I don't want to change it.

Please, enjoy Poison Touch- the introduction of Neville.


"Death is the dropping of the flower, that the fruit may swell."
― Henry Ward Beecher

Chapter 2: Poison Touch


"HARRY POTTER, BOY-WHO-LIVED-TO-GO-MAD, DEAD!

Author: Rita Skeeter

Today, the Wizarding World got the shock of their lives. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, died yesterday in a freak accident at a muggle chemical plant, after slashing his face up (sourced by nearby muggles and muggle healers who treated the boy). The young Potter had been standing above some of the chemicals (chemicals are like the muggle form of potions), and had fallen into them. Albus Dumbledore rushed straight to the ministry after getting the full story from Mr. Potter's relatives. Mr. Potter apparently snapped, threatening his relatives on multiple occasions and making up rather disturbing jokes about killing and murder. This reporter is told that, as he fell into the chemicals, Mr. Potter was laughing, yelling something about the "funny side," whatever that means... young Mr. Potter's death was far to accidental to be a coincidence to me. Last Hogwart's school year, he had opened the mythical Chamber of Secrets and saved the youngest Weasley from a Basilisk, all by himself with just the Sorting Hat and a Sword, a feat that would be something extraordinary from an adult, let alone a child. Perhaps one of the still-loose Death Eaters wanted revenge, and pushed Mr. Potter into the chemicals, while he was still to magically exhausted to fight back?

Did the pressure we, the entire Wizarding World, place on his shoulders break Mr. Potter? Why had we relied on a young child, barely even a teenager, to fight a grown man more than thrice his age? I say it's time we avenge the young man, and take down You-Know-Who ourselves. I hope that everyone agrees with me.

For more information on Harry James Potter, turn to Page 4.

For more information on Mr. Potter's tragic death, turn to Page 6."


Neville sank into the Hogwart's Express' plush seating, on his way home for Winter Break, and reread the article that Rita Skeeter had sent out three months ago. The Headmaster had told everyone in Hogwarts the night of the Sorting about Harry's death, mere minutes before Rita's article was flown out. Several people started crying at the news, Harry's two best friends and Neville himself included. Poor Ginny Weasley had taken the news harsh, and fainted, forcing McGonagall to use the Body Levitating charm to transport her to the Hospital Wing. Neville sniffled. Harry didn't deserve to die, especially so soon. The child, no, the young man, who defeated Voldemort several times, once as a baby, had died because of careless muggles. Neville wiped his eyes and sank even further into his seat. He missed Harry. He missed his friend so much. The empty feeling he had was a lot like the one he felt when his gran and him visited his parents in St. Mungos. Only, it was hugely multiplied. Like someone twisted a knife deep into his heart and left it there. Maybe it was that way because he had actually known Harry, where as he never really knew who his parents were before they were declared unfit for guardianship. Neville felt like sobbing. How was it that he missed a boy his age more than he missed his parents? Neville was tempted to locate Hermione and ask her, but he knew it was a bad idea. She wasn't taking Harry's death any better than he was, and she most likely didn't know the answer.


Neville barely noticed when the train pulled to a stop in Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He shakily stood, grabbing his things, and dragged them haphazardly behind him as he exited. His gran, upon spotting him leaving the train, gave him a pitiful look; a common look he got- one that made a hateful feeling rise in him. She grabbed his trunk from him and shrunk it, before giving it back to him to place in his pocket. Neville blinked and rubbed his eyes. They felt like they were burning. He should have expected that. He hadn't had a good night's rest for months, ever since Harry's death had been announced, and when he did fall asleep, it was from crying himself into the state. The atmosphere in the station felt heavier than usual, as if everyone was saddened that there was no Harry Potter anymore, no one left to save them from Voldemort. Neville had heard, second-hand from a whispered conversation Percy Weasley had with the sixth years, that the goblins closed down the Potter accounts, seizing all their gold and items before giving out the vault numbers to some other wizard, some Kerr guy. It was just another added reason to believe that Harry wasn't going to come through the barrier, smiling, as if everything had been a big, bad joke. Neville snorted. Oh, how he wished it was only a big, bad, joke.

"Come along Neville. Let's go home." Neville's gran interrupted his musing. He nodded, and followed her to the floo connection. "Here Neville, you head on home first. You remember what to say?" His gran asked, as she held out the bucket of green floo-powder. 'Green... Harry had green eyes...' Neville sniffled once again and nodded, grabbing a handful.

"Longbottom Manor!" He said, throwing the powder down into the flames, before stepping through and being sucked away from the station.


Neville shot out of the sitting room fireplace in Longbottom Manor, covered in soot. He moved away from the fireplace before brushing himself off as best he could while he waited for his gran to come through. He made his way to the windowsill, where his gran had placed a few of his more easily cared for plants. He ran a hand over their leaves with a smile. Oh, how he enjoyed the company that plants provided him. They weren't as deceptive as people were, they didn't have ulterior motives, and they most definitely did not want to kill you purposely.

"...sorry I haven't been by, baby. Been at Hogwarts." He muttered, picking up a small red flower from the windowsill. This one flower was, by far, the one he liked the most, since it's entire species rested on the one. He inherited it from his mother, who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to recreate the species. Neville was surprised the small flower had survived this long. Most flowers wilted after just a few months. "I missed you. I'll tell you all about my year so far once I get to the greenhouse, okay?" Neville smiled down to the flower, and he swore he saw it nod at him. Carefully as he could, Neville held the flower in one hand, while his other searched around in his pockets for one of his self-inking quills. He jotted down a quick note to his gran before he walked through the house towards the back doors, intent on heading to his private greenhouse- the one his gran gave him once he finally displayed some semblance of accidental magic.


Neville made sure to lock the door behind him. Several of his plants would run, yes run, out the door if given the chance. He placed the small red flower down next to a couple of magically bred bright green coloured roses, which flashed to a bright bubbly blue upon sensing him, and picked up an always-full watering can. He turned a small dial on the spout, resizing the can into a much smaller one, and set about watering the shorter plants of his. He smiled at each one, mumbling a hello as he went around. He flicked the dial up, making the can return to it's normal size, before approaching the larger plants.

"Neville! Neville Longbottom, you get out here and into the house this instant!" His gran shouted, making him jump and over-water one of his larger plants. He cursed in a manner a lot unlike himself, and started scooping the excess water out with his hands. "Do you hear me! Neville!" Neville ground his teeth together, but continued to ignore the older woman, in hopes that she'd leave soon. He heard her sigh, and he knew he won their rather one-sided fight. Neville gently patted the over-watered plant.

"I'm sorry, I really am. She frightened me. I didn't mean to over-water you..." He apologized over and over until he felt satisfied that the plant had heard him and forgave him. He set the watering can down after he finished watering the plants that needed to be, and grabbed a pair of pruning shears. The house elves always forgot to prune his Creeping Willow. But that was probably because only Neville could get anywhere near the plant without getting hurt or the tree running off in fright. "Now, where is that silly tree?" The tree must have heard him, as it came crawling towards the front with an almost gleeful gait. "Hello my pretty tree. How are you today?" The tree bobbed up and down, before sitting perfectly still and letting Neville approach. "Do your excess twigs itch? I'm going to remove them, alright?" The tree seemed to shudder as Neville slowly started snipping off little pieces and branches. The job took him less time than he thought it would, because he was down less than fifteen minutes later. "All done! Thanks for sitting still for me." The tree shook it's branches, a gesture Neville had come to learn was it's way of thanking him, and scuttled back towards the damper side of the greenhouse.


Neville pulled a rickety old chair up to the small desk off to the side of the greenhouse, away from all the plants. He grabbed one of the planting boxes filled with magical roses, and gently set it down on the desk. He needed to check the roses for any sign of disease or frost-bite, as the greenhouse had fallen rather cold for the past few days. He had been locked up in his greenhouse, which he had taken to calling home, for almost two weeks now. Winter Break was over in two days, not that Neville had any wish to leave his home. Neville, as gently as he could, prodded the roses, before he bent them just a little to check their stems and leaves.

"Neville? Neville, please, come out of there." His gran said, startling him. He cut himself on one of the magical roses' thorns and hissed in pain. The rose flashed a deep, angry red before returning to its original, soothing green. "Neville? Neville, Winter Break is almost over. You have to head back to Hogwarts!" Neville took a deep breath.

"...I'm not going." He said, just loud enough for his gran to hear him. He heard her gasp.

"But Neville! Your magical education is important!" Neville shook his head, and returned his attention to the roses, meticulously checking each plant twice. "Neville..." He barely heard his gran say, before the frosty grass that surrounded his home crunched as she walked away. Neville moved the plants off to the side and huffed.

"I don't need her. I don't need Hogwarts. All I need are my plants." He smiled down at the roses, and stood, intent on grabbing the next batch that needed to be checked.


"Heeheheheheee... dodadoodadoodada..." The green and black-haired teen hummed to himself as he jimmied a couple of bent paperclips into a lock. Green eyes narrowed in frustration. "Ah, c'mon ya damned lock. Open for daddy..." A small click made him grin, the red-painted scars that ran up the sides of his face tugging at the motion. "Pin-pon! There we go!" The door before him swung open, revealing a thriving jungle of plants. "Wow, I gotta say Nev, ya' really know how to take care of plants." Harry said, skipping into the greenhouse and kicking the door shut behind him. He headed towards the desk in the corner first, and placed a small envelope on it. The envelope simply proclaimed, 'Open me!' and contained some rather... personal information on the greenhouse's owner's grandmother. Because if simply asking the young man for help didn't work out, then bribery would! "Nev~! Neville-smeville, were are ya'?" Harry called, skipping deeper into the greenhouse. 'Where is the boy? I have an extremely important proposition for him!' Harry peeked around bushes and under tables, before he heard a soft snore come from behind the tree to his left. "Nevy-boy, you're sleepin'? Nah, that won't do." He made to move around the tree, when it struck out at him. Harry giggled and danced around the swinging branches. "Ah, c'mon mistah tree, stop that, would ya'? I gotta speak with Nevy-boy, it's im-por-tant-ah!" Harry said, angrily stressing the syllables of the word. The tree stopped its attack, and let Harry pass by him. Harry smirked and strutted up to the sleeping Neville. "Nevy-boy, hey, Nevy-boy, wakey-wakey!" He knelt down and poked the other boy in the side roughly. "Nevy-boy~!" Harry frowned a little. "Aw, ya' don't wanna wake up for me? Then I guess I'll just have'ta wait!" Harry hopped to his feet and scampered off to the front of the greenhouse, dragging a chair back with him. He positioned the chair in way that he'd be the first thing Neville saw when he awoke before sitting down and grinning. "Don't worry, I've got plenty of time to waste!" He started laughing, a laugh that only increased in volume as he saw the tree from before start shaking in fear.


Neville shifted and groaned. What time had he fallen asleep at? It must have been well past three in the morning. He raised a hand to his throbbing head, and slowly sat up. And that's when he heard it. Quiet, almost muffled laughter was coming from in front of him. Neville opened his eyes, and immediately spotted the source of the sounds. A green-haired boy sat before him, amused bright green eyes staring into his from the boy's black rimmed eye sockets, dressed impeccably in a green vest and purple coat and pants. Neville's attention was quickly drawn to his the red-painted scars winding up his cheeks. If it weren't for the fact that this boy had green hair, cheek scars, no lightning bolt forehead scar, and no glasses on, Neville would've thought that Harry Potter himself was back from the dead right in front of him.

"Who-" Neville started, and the boy dashed forwards and grasped at Neville's chin.

"Nah-uh, Nevy-boy, none of that. I got an..." Harry licked his lips. "...important proposition for ya', you hear?" Neville nodded and Harry let go of his chin. "Right-o. Good, ya' ready to listen Nevy-boy?" Neville felt his rare Gryffindor courage well up inside him as he lunged at Harry, who just sidestepped him and kicked him in the ribs. "Ah, c'mon Nevy-boy, if ya' didn't wanna do it, all ya' gotta do is say so!" Neville felt around for a weapon, and his hands landed on a discarded pair of scissors. Neville sneaked a glance at the scissors. They were rusted and looked to be falling apart, but they'd do as a temporary weapon for now. Neville curled his fingers around the scissors, and jumped up at Harry, slashing amateurishly at him. Harry narrowed his eyes and grabbed Neville's wrist, before giving it a quick, forceful twist. A rather loud crack rang out through the room and Neville cried out in pain, dropping the scissors and cradling his now broken wrist to his chest. "Are ya' done yet Neville? Or do I have to break both your wrists?" Neville backed away from Harry and whimpered.

"I-I... sorry. Um, how... how did you get in here? Who are you?" Harry smirked.

"Well, I broke in by picking the lock, and for who I am... well, you can call me Joker." Neville furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Joker?

"Joker...? Jo... Kerr! You're the wizard the goblins gave Harry's vault to!" Neville said, scrutinizing the wizard before him. Harry smiled.

"Ah yes, young Harry Potter. Poor bastard. Kinda sad that he's dead, we woulda been great friends." Harry giggled at his joke. Of course he and Harry Potter would have been friends! They were the same person! Well, at least that's what the goblins say. That ain't what he remembers though. But Harry's learned some things in the past few weeks. Never trust the goblins, or anyone for that matter, for anything.

"Y-Yeah, Harry was one of my best friends. We were in Gryffindor together..." Neville winced as his wrist gave a sharp jab of pain.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that Nevy-boy. Lemme fix it." Harry said, withdrawing an uncomfortably familiar wand from his coat pocket. Neville's eyes widened.

"T-That wand!" Harry ran a hand over his wand. He had woken up a few days ago to find the stick on his desk, calling to him. "T-Tell me, what's in it?" Harry grinned.

"Holly and Unicorn hair, thirteen and a half inches." He quickly lied about the exact make-up. Something told him that if he said what it was exactly made of, Neville would do something unpleasant, and he'd be forced to break the teen's other wrist. "She's a beaut, ain't she?" Neville sagged in sadness and a little relief. "Why didja wanna know?"

"It's... it's just, Harry had a wand that looked a lot like that one."

"Well, ain't that something!" Before Neville could stop him, Harry pointed the wand at his wrist. "Episkey!" Neville knew the spell didn't heal the break completely, as that required a potion, but it did sooth the pain.

"Thanks..."

"Oh wow, can't believe that worked!" Harry laughed, pocketing his wand. "I only read up on that spell this morning! Man Nevy-boy, you're damn lucky, ya' know that?" Neville gulped. If that spell had malfunctioned, he could have killed them both! "Ah, but I knew I could do it."

"U-Um, your proposition? W-What is it?" Harry blinked and stared at him in confusion for a few, in Neville's opinion, terrifying seconds. He saw Harry mouth 'Proposition?' to himself before a large grin spread on his face.

"Oh yes! The proposition! The really really important one!" Harry dug around in his pockets and quickly flung his hand out at Neville, who flinched at the unexpected movement. "See this here?" Neville stared at the papers Harry held up to his face. "Right here. See it?" Harry jabbed a finger at a simple sentence written near the middle of the page.

"Note to self-" Neville read, gently grabbing the papers to steady Harry's excited shaking. "-ask someone like a botanist or a chemist- yeah someone like that!- to make the really cool gas stuff!" Neville raised a brow. "Really cool gas stuff?" Harry shrugged lightly.

"Well, if ya' can only make a liquid form, then that'll work too, 'cause I know how to make it into a gas."

"A-And, what exactly is it?" Harry snatched his papers back and scanned over them.

"Ah, oopsy! I forgot to write it down!" He folded the papers up and shoved them back into his pocket. "Oh well, ya' win some ya' lose some. So, Nevy-boy, the gist of it is, I want a formula that makes people laugh. One that makes 'em laugh a lot." Neville shivered at the implication of Harry's sentence.

"S-So something that makes people laugh?" Harry nodded with a smile. "I-I guess I can do that for a liquid form. Um, it shouldn't take that long, couple of m-months maybe... for sure by summertime..."

"Great! Don't worry Nev, you'll be rewarded handsomely for this! Ya' won't regret it!" Harry got out yet another piece of paper. "I just need ya' to sign this wee paper here, kapeesh?"

"W-What for?"

"Oh, it just says that you won't divulge any information on the product you are creating unless you're willing to forfeit your life." Neville swallowed roughly.

"I-I..."

"Just sign it Nevy-boy. I trust ya' to never say a word." Neville gave a small nod.

"Okay, um, do you have a quill?" Harry started laughing once again at the statement. "What's so funny?"

"No need for a pen or a quill Nev! All ya' gotta do is put a little blood right there in that box." Harry set the contract on the bed and pointed out said box. Neville leaned over a little to get a better look. Harry struck at that time, grabbing the boy's injured wrist and slashing it open with one of his hidden knives. Neville cried out as Harry chuckled, watching his blood fall all over the contract, the majority of it landing no where near the box. "There we go! Call one of ya' house elves and tell 'em to get you a potion or two. Then, I dunno, work on my project. I gotta go." Harry folded the bloodied paper up and placed it back into the pocket it came from.

"W-What the hell was that for!" Harry just smiled and waved, making his way back to the entrance. Neville followed after him.

"Oh yes! One last thing." Harry said, pausing at the door. "Nev, I want you to be my... informant in Hogwarts for next year, since it's a bit late for ya' to head back this year. It has been a while since I've been there. I wanna know all that goes on in there, got it? You'll get paid for it, of course. Anything ya' want for the information." Neville thought about it. Anything he wanted, for something as measly as information about Hogwarts? He could do that.

"If I do it..." Neville started, and Harry turned to him. "If I get you the information, could you get me some rare plant seeds or the plants themselves?" Harry started giggling.

"Oh Nevy-boy, I could get you the illegal plants if ya' wanted!" Neville's eyes widened.

"T-The illegal ones? L-Like, the Obscura plant?"

"The plant that causes horrible hallucinations about total darkness? Black petals, kinda looks like a tulip?" Harry said, gesturing with his hands. Neville nodded. "Yeah, I can get ya' some. I know where to get wild ones." Neville's eyes lit up.

"I'll do it! Just get me those plants!" Maniacal laughter exploded out of Harry. Neville shivered and took a step back.

"Can do, Nevy-boy. They'll arrive in three weeks, I guarantee it." Harry ran a hand through his hair, and pulled out a playing card. "Here's my card. I'll see you soon, Nev."


A stark white van pulled up in front of a small London bank. Three masked men hopped out, each holding a handgun and a dufflebag. Each of their masks were painted like clowns. One of them stood close to the bank, his mask depicting a "Bozo" like face, and a few strands of odd green-dyed hair fell over the front of the mask.

"So, what's the plan?" One of the other men, his mask being a smiling clown, "Chuckles," asked.

"Well, Chuckles, the guy who hired us just asked to get some money and go." The last man, a "Grumpy" mask on his face.

"Che, the damn bastard thinks he can order us to do all the work, and then not show up himself?" Chuckles nodded.

"Yeah. Where's the other two?" Grumpy pointed to the back of the bank.

"They're disablin' the alarm."

"Hmm. Five shares even, huh?"

"Nah, six. Don't forget about the guy who hired us." They checked their guns before heading into the bank. Grumpy looked around before firing a few shots into the roof of the bank. "ALRIGHT! Everyone, heads up, hands down or else!" When no one listened to him he fired into the air once again. "I SAID! Hands up heads down! DO IT!" As everyone complied with Grumpy's orders, a static covered voice came from the radio hooked onto his belt. "Right you two, I'm heading down to the vault." He made his way to one of the tellers. "Hey lady! I'm making a huge withdrawal! Where's the vault at!" The woman shakily pointed down a hall. Grumpy nodded at Chuckles and Bozo before rushing down the hall. Chuckles walked towards the group of people, and reached into his bag.

"Alright people. We don't want you doing anything with your hands except holding on for dear life." He brought out a few grenades, dead ones, though no one in the bank aside from the robbers knew it. He gave everyone one, making sure they held onto it the right way, before making his way back to Bozo, who promptly shot him.


Behind the bank, two men, one in a "Happy" mask and the other in a "Dopey" mask were huddled around a metallic box, waiting for the silent alarm to trip, two large bags at their feet.

"Hey, why do they call him The Joker?" Happy asked. Dopey shrugged.

"I hear he wears makeup."

"Makeup?"

"Yeah, you know, 'war paint'. To scare people I think." Dopey looked down at the box, and then at a small square in his hands. "Here comes the silent alarm..." Dopey muttered, before he pushed a few buttons and cut a wire. "And there it goes! But hey, it wasn't heading to the nearest police station. Went to some private number."

"Well, it is a mob bank. But anyway, is it a problem that the call went somewhere else?" Dopey shook his head.

"Not at all. I'm done here." Dopey said, packing up his things.

"Oh, great." Happy said, before raising his gun and shooting Dopey in the back of the head. Happy grabbed the large bags, heading into the bank. He took several turns before finding the vault. He grabbed a radio from his pocket and said into it, "Oi, Grumps, I'm at the vault." He didn't get a response, but that didn't stop him. Happy dug through one of the bags, and pulled out a notepad, a pen, and a small stethoscope. Placing the stethoscope into his ears, he listened to the vault as he turned the lock on it. Every time he heard a click, he wrote down the number it clicked at.

"Happy, you almost done?" Grumpy said, stalking into the room.

"Yeah." Grumpy looked around for Happy's partner.

"Say, where's the other guy?"

"Boss told me to shoot him once he finished." Happy said, as the vault creaked open.

"Funny." Grumpy said, cocking his gun. "He told me something similar." Happy whipped around.

"What- no! NO!" He shouted, as Grumpy shot him once in the head. He holstered his gun before grabbing the bags and entering the vault. He quickly stuffed most of the money into the bag, leaving only a few wads of bills inside. The Joker had told them that some of the bills were police marked, and told them how to identify them. Grumpy looked around once again, before scampering off back to the front of the bank.

"Here is all of it. It's a lot, the boss should have given us a bigger van." Grumpy said, dropping the bags. Before Bozo could respond, a loud gunshot rang out. The two turned to look at the office cubicles, and spotted the owner of the bank, shotgun in hand.

"You son of bitches don't know who you're ripping off here, do you!" He fired at them, and they ducked behind an overturned table. The owner fired twice more at them, before he stalked forwards.

"How many bullets does he got left?" Grumpy asked.

"Ah, none." Bozo said quietly. Grumpy leaped to his feet, only to almost get shot. Grumpy dived back behind the table.

"Where the hell did you learn to count!" Grumpy shouted, before lifting his gun and, peeking over the table, fired at the owner. He aimed for the man's legs and abdomen, and, with a cry, the man fell onto his side. Grumpy stood and back away from Bozo, who had cocked his gun. "I'm guessing the boss told ya' to shot me after I finished my job, huh?" Bozo shook his head.

"No, no, I kill the bus driver."

"Bus driver?" Grumpy asked. Bozo jumped back, just in time to dodge a school bus that came crashing through the wall behind them. Grumpy got hit full-force by the bus, sending him flying back, either unconscious or dead. No one bothered to check. The backdoor of the bus opened, and a man in a "Smiley" clown mask jumped out.

"Whoops, didn't mean to hit the guy." Smiley said, as Bozo started hauling the bags of cash to the bus. Smiley helped throw the bags into the bus. "Hey, where's the other-" Bozo cut him off by firing a couple of rounds into his chest. The bank owner groaned and slowly lifted himself up just a bit.

"You're dead you know! Dead!" The owner shouted as Bozo walked towards him to grab the man's shotgun. "When your boss gets his cash, he'll kill you!" Bozo tilted his head.

"I don't believe he will do that." The bank owner hacked out a few harsh laughs.

"Then what do you believe! WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN!" Bozo chuckled under his breath.

"I believe..." He started, taking out a smoke grenade and shoving it into the man's mouth. "...that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you..." Bozo ripped off his mask, letting his green hair land, disheveled, in front of his blazing eyes, and smirked. The man's eyes widened at the haphazardly red-painted scars on his cheeks. "...stranger." He pulled the pin on the grenade, and, picking up the shotgun, made his way towards the bus. "It's been real fun. Tell your boss that the Joker says hi!" With that, Harry jumped into the bus, closing and locking the door shut behind him. He made his way to the front of the bus and, throwing himself into the driver's seat, slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. "Ya' know," He said to himself, as he merged into the traffic, following after a trail of other, kid-filled, school buses. "I think I like this job. Oh, I like it a lot."


About Five Months Later

Neville yawned and stirred the potion he was working on. He was actually quite competent at Potions class, but the teacher coupled with the fact that there were plenty of children there with him, made him make mistakes. Here, however, in his greenhouse, all alone, he could perform to the best of his ability. It wasn't much though, since he hadn't slept in a day and it was nearing eleven at night. Neville gave the potion one last stir before taking it off the burner. He dipped a small flask into it, filling it, and dragged his tired self over to a row of caged rats in the corner. The potion in the flask was a horrid green colour, a colour that reminded him of that Joker guy's hair. He ran a hand over one of the rats as he poured the potion into their water dish.

"Come on, have a drink..." He gently pushed one of them over to the dish. He hadn't given them any water for the past couple of hours, just to make sure they'd drink the finished potion. The rats sniffed the liquid before dipping their heads in and drinking quickly. Neville watched, fascinated, as they stared giving out several involuntary squeaks. It sounded rather odd, but he felt that they were laughing. After ten minutes of continuous squeaking, one by one they fell over. Neville checked their vitals, only to find that, out of the four rats in the cage, only one was still alive, and it was slowly dieing, unable to get air into it's lungs. Neville flinched. He must have made the potion to strong. 'Perhaps it's just that they're rats, that's why they died. I can't exactly test this on a person...' He thought, before he got out the card that the Joker gave him. He had used the better portion of the first month figuring out how to use the card to contact the Joker, and finally discovered how to contact him after a good three weeks. Neville took a breath and, as quick as he could, ran a piece of paper over his fingers, leaving a bleeding cut in them. He winced, and touched the card with his bleeding fingers. "It's done." He said, before removing his hand. The jester on the card smirked before it responded,

"Good. I'll be there soon. I'll bring along a... volunteer." Neville shuddered and put the card onto the desk. He shook his head, and, with another yawn, made his way towards his makeshift bed for a couple of hours sleep.


Harry leaned back in his chair, and smiled. He hadn't pulled anymore heists, nor had he murdered someone, since his bank robbery five months ago. A playing card, the joker card that had rested on his desk since he visited Neville, glowed. Harry grabbed it and held it up to his ear.

"It's done." Neville's voice came from the card, and Harry's smile morphed into a smirk.

"Good. I'll be there soon." His smirk widened. "I'll bring along a..." He eyed the small pager that sat next to a shattered empty picture frame. "...volunteer." He ripped the card in half and, snatching up the pager, started laughing, knowing that he'd frighten his goons that sat downstairs awaiting orders. He made his way downstairs, his laughs slowly becoming chuckles and giggles, and stared out at his men. "Men, I need a volunteer." The goons all looked at each other, frightened. "Not any of you, of course." Harry purred, and the goons visibly sagged in relief. "So get out there, and find me a volunteer. Male or female, I don't care. You have six hours to find me a suitable volunteer." Harry rolled his eyes when none of them moved a bit. "GET GOING!" He barked, and they all ran out the door. The pager in his hand vibrated, leading to another round of maniacal laughter from Harry as he read the message.

"Boss, the ground team has located potential targets."


"B-Boss!" Harry looked towards the front door as his goons came rushing in. The one who shouted, a mousy looking fatter man, smiled. "We found you a volunteer boss!" Harry blinked, and looked at the clock hanging above what served as their kitchen.

"Great! It only took you three hours!" Harry stood, and brushed himself off. "So, who are we getting?" The men looked at each other before nodding.

"You know that gangster down the block? Uh, what's his name..." The mousy man furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "I think it was Carro or something."

"Carroni?" Harry guessed.

"Yeah! Anyway, Carroni, he was talking shit 'bout you boss! And, uh, we kinda forgot our weapons so we couldn't shoot the bastard, so we... we thought he'd be a good volunteer for you..." Harry smiled, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a rather large wad of cash.

"Good job boys! Here, go get yourselves a drink. I'll secure our volunteer." Harry tossed them the cash, and made his way towards the stairs.

"Thanks boss! Oh, yeah, tonight Carroni said he'd be all by himself 'cause his bitch ran out on him!" The mousy man said, before the goons headed out the door to get some drinks. Harry shook his head at their antics, and continued on his way upstairs. The pager, which now resided in his front pocket, vibrated again, sending him into a fit of giggles. He got out the pager, and pushed a button on it. A message rolled across the screen.

"Boss, we got Carroni. Didn't put up much of a fight once we mentioned you." Another message rolled across before Harry could start giggling again. "Boss, the pigs are closing in. Watch your back. We'll be there with Carroni in an hour or two." Harry let out a harrowing cackle as he continued climbing the stairs. He needed to get his coat and an alcohol flask. He had an appointment at the Axis chemical plant to get to.


Neville was awoken from his fitful sleep by someone laughing madly and someone else screaming as they opened his greenhouse's door. He stumbled to his feet, and looked at the clock. 'Who would be breaking into my house at three in the morning?' He sighed at the thought. There was only one person who would do something like that. The Joker. Neville stretched out, getting a few satisfying pops from his back, and made his way to the front of his house. Sure enough, there was Harry, grinning sinisterly, a tied up screaming muggle at his feet. Harry's eyes lit up, and Neville noticed that, unlike in their first meeting, he was wearing a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

"Nevy-boy! I'm here, and I brought ya' a volunteer!" He kicked the muggle before him and grinned a little wider.

"Oh, J-Joker, you're here already?" Neville stuttered, unable to draw his eyes from the obviously in pain muggle that was now whimpering.

"Well of course I am! I said I'd be here soon, didn't I?" Neville nodded.

"Y-Yes, you did, but I thought you meant you'd be here a bit later. It is, uh..." He trailed off at the glint in Harry's eyes.

"Well, ya' see Neville, I have a lot of important things to do tomorrow. This was the only time I was free for the next week and a half." Harry said. 'Well, actually, I just wanted to see Nevy-boy's reaction to me breaking into his greenhouse at three in the morning.' Harry thought, snickering softly. "But anyway, Nevy-boy, were is it?"

"O-One second!" Neville shouted, dashing off to the side of the greenhouse. He came back less than a minute later, carrying the green liquid filled flask from before. "Here, um, I'm not sure it'll work on people yet, but, um, it worked on rats!" Harry chuckled, and kicked the still whimpering muggle onto his back.

"Then I guess l'il Carroni here will be ya' first human test subject!" Neville gulped as he watched Harry wrench open the muggle's jaw, and empty the entire flask into it. After about ten minutes of nothing, Harry turned to Neville with an angry glare. But before he could yell out a single word, the muggle began snickering. After a minute of snickers, he burst into full-blown laughter. Harry started laughing alongside the muggle, and Neville couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well. Another couple of minutes passed before the man stopped laughing, breathing heavily. "Ah? Still alive? Well, that won't do. Say, Nevy-boy, do ya' have the instructions to this lovely concoction?"

"Y-Yes, I do. Um, I'll go get them..." Neville rushed off again as Harry tapped the muggle with his foot.

"Damn Carroni, you sure know how to survive." Harry muttered as Neville came running back with a few sheets of parchment in his hands. Neville panted as he handed the parchment over. "Thanks Nevy-boy!" Harry smiled and pocketed the parchment. "I'll review it at home. Ya' don't have to worry your little head any longer about this project. Now, about your reward..." Harry opened his coat and pulled out a small bag, filled to the brim with Galleons. He threw it to the ground in front of Neville. "Here ya' go. 120 Galleons, just as promised!" Neville sputtered at the sight of the Galleons. "What is it Nevy-boy? That ain't enough? I could give ya' some more if ya' want." Neville shook his head quickly.

"No, no! It's fine, it's just, 120 Galleons for one potion and some instructions?" Harry nodded.

"I see what you're getting at, Nevy-boy. Here," Harry pulled out another bag from his coat and threw it down next to the bag of Galleons. This bag, however, was filled with muggle currency. "500'000 British Pounds, that's enough, right? This was a big project after all." Neville felt like fainting at the all the money before him. "Sorry it ain't in Wizarding Currency, but I barely had enough time to get the 120 before meeting ya' here." Neville nodded dumbly.

"I... I, thanks?" Harry grinned and made his way over to the desk in the corner.

"Nevy-boy! Ya' didn't open my blackmail letter? C'mon, it has some great dirt in it!" Harry grabbed the unopened envelope, which now had a thin layer of dust covering it. "You wound me Nev! It took me a good four hours to get all the information!" He held the envelope out to Neville, who tentatively took it. Neville carefully opened the envelope, and peeked inside. He shrieked at the pictures of his grandmother, naked, with several men. He dropped the envelope and covered his eyes.

"T-That was horrible! Why did you?!" Harry started cackling.

"Oh, Nevy-boy! It's all natural! Don't take it too personal that your gran's a who-"

"SHUT UP!" Neville launched himself at Harry, who simply let the teen wrap his hands around his throat. "You! You, you horrible person!" Harry smirked.

"Co-o-ome on Ne-evy-boy! Is tha-at all you go-o-t?" Neville took a few deep breaths and let Harry go.

"Get out." Neville mumbled, backing away from Harry. Harry rubbed his throat and held a hand to his ear.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch that. What did ya' say?" Neville clenched his fists.

"I said get out! Get out of my greenhouse!" Harry laughed.

"Yes! Yes, Neville! Get angry! Hit me! Come on!" Neville glared and took a step forward.

"GET OUT!" Harry raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright. I'm going!" Harry bent down and grabbed the unconscious muggle by the back of his shirt and started dragging him to the front door. "And to think, I had an early birthday present for you!" Neville couldn't help but perk up at the mention of his birthday. He really didn't want to know how Harry knew when his birthday was.

"Present?" He decided to ignore the smirk that spread across Harry's face.

"Yes, a nice little present for you." Harry purred, reaching into his coat once again. He brought out a small flask, and held it up to Neville. "It's just some muggle alcohol, but I'm sure you'd like it." Neville felt himself reach out and grab the flask.

"Muggle... alcohol?" His gran had told him to never take to the bottle until he was 17. But she told him that after he took of sip of his uncle's fire-whiskey. Surely she only meant to never drink wizarding alcohol, right? Harry's smirk widened.

"Oh, yes. It is quite delicious." Harry got out another flask. "C'mon, I'll drink with you." He popped open his flask and held it up. "To a job well done?" Neville flicked his eyes to Harry's flask and back down to his before opening the lid of his and clinking it against Harry's.

"To a job... well done."

"Drink it all back in one full swoop, alright?" Neville nodded and, taking a deep breath, swigged down a good majority of the contents of the flask. He coughed a few times and dropped the flask as his head started pounding relentlessly. The flask hit the ground and the remaining bit of drink in it splashed out, the green liquid forming a line as it ran towards a drain in the floor. Harry started howling with laughter and pocketed his water-filledflask. Neville fell to his knees and tried to breathe. "Aw, poor Mistah Longbottom, dieing all alone in a dreary greenhouse! Didn't your mommy tell you to never accept candy from strangers?" Harry kicked Neville in the side, making the teen land roughly on his side. "This is such a shame Neville, but I don't need your help anymore. Not even at Hogwarts, I'll figure out another way to get there. Ya' know far too much! Too bad, I kinda liked you!" The edges of Neville's vision blackened as Harry started dragging the muggle to the door once again. The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was Harry laughing as he closed the door.


Neville took a deep breath as he got to his feet shakily. He grabbed onto one of his stronger plants and steadied himself before opening his eyes.

"What... what happened here?" Neville wondered out loud to himself. The plant under his hand shuddered in response. "Oh... I see. The Joker double crossed me... huh?" He blinked and stared at the plant. "D-Did you just...?" The plant shook once again and a whispered voice floated into his head. "Y-You're speaking!" A flood of voices came into his mind after he shouted. Neville looked around at all the plants and smiled. "Y-You all are speaking! Oh wow, it's like a dream come true! But wait... the Joker he..." Neville looked around for the elusive purple-wearing man and frowned. "Where did he go?" Neville's eyes roamed over to the front of the greenhouse, and landed on the empty flask near the door, where he had dropped it earlier. He walked towards it and grabbed it, raising it up to inspect it. Neville sniffed the flask's opening and frowned. "He tried to poison me with..." Neville sniffed once again. "...with what though?" The flask smelt rather bitter and mouldy. How had he not noticed the smell when he drank it? That's when he smelt something underneath the bad smells, a fruity perfume-like smell. "He... he tricked me." Neville threw the flask away from him angrily. The plants whispered into his ear. "I... yes. Of course. But... I cannot get close to him. He most likely thinks I am dead." They continued to whisper. "...I'm not sure. Maybe. I'll need my gran's help though..." He smiled and started on his way to the door, intent on heading back up to the manor. He stepped on something round-ish, making him almost fall over. Lifting his foot, he spotted a single Galleon laying innocently next to an overturned playing card. Neville bent down and picked up the two items, pocketing the Galleon and turning over the playing card. He grit his teeth at the jester grinning up at him, a short message scrawled childishly below it,

"Poor Mistah Longbottom, wiltin' just like a flower!"


Neville fidgeted outside of the manor's front door. It must have been sometime after seven at night, since the manor grounds surrounding him were darkening quickly. He took a few seconds to compose himself before he grabbed one of the knockers and banged it loudly. The door cracked open a few seconds later, and his gran poked her head out, looking worse for wear.

"N-Neville?" She whispered, staring at him. Neville gave her a small smile.

"Yeah gran, it's me." Neville had no time to react before her arm snaked out and she slapped him hard. He blinked and raised a hand to his cheek. "What-"

"You're damn lucky I don't Avada you where you stand!" She shouted, making Neville's eyes widened. "You worried me so much you brat!" She pulled him into a hug and Neville's mind blanked. 'She... she hit me! And now she's... hugging me?' He furrowed his brow.

"Gran? Why'd you...?" She let him go and shook her head as she moved out of the doorway.

"Never you mind. Now, come in, you must be hungry, right?" Neville nodded and made his way around her. He glanced around as he walked towards the dining room. "Nippy!" His gran shouted, as they entered the dining room. The small house elf appeared with a soft pop and bowed.

"Nippy is here!"

"Nippy, please, prepare some..." His gran trailed off, and she turned to look at him. "Neville, what would you like to eat?"

"Oh, a salad would be marvellous."

"Nippy, go make Neville a salad, and be quick!"


Neville stared down at the new wand in his hand, as his gran ushered him into a side booth of some restaurant. He hadn't paid much attention to what it was composed of. His gran had forced him to go to Diagon Alley with her, to get him supplies for the next Hogwarts year. His gran had told the staff and Headmaster that she had pulled him out unexpectedly for training, so he'd know enough for the future. As if they'd believe that lie. But the Headmaster just smiled sadly and nodded, allowing Neville to return for his fourth year. A patch of sunlight, filtering in through the rather dirty window, lit up the table. Neville glanced around and, noting that his gran was up at the front ordering, placed his empty hand in the light. After a few seconds, he noticed a barely there green tinge to his skin, and he frowned. What was it?

"Neville, our orders will arrive in a little bit. I do hope you don't mind, but I ordered you a simple salad, since you appeared to enjoy the one you had last night." His gran said, as she sat across from him. Neville smiled a little and nodded. He had spent a good majority of the time eating last night picking out the little pieces of meat in the salad. He had taken a few bites with the meat, but found himself disgusted at the thought of it.

"I don't mind gran. When are we picking up the curriculum books?"

"After lunch."


"Are you alright Neville?" His gran asked, the moment they stepped through the door later that evening. Neville shook his head softly.

"I'm just a little tired. I'm going to head off to my room, get a little extra sleep."

"Well, hopefully you are well rested for tomorrow. The Weasley's are coming over. We are going to the World Quidditch Cup with them." Neville tilted his head. He had not agreed to do anything of the sort.

"Oh. I will be, gran." With one last nod in her direction, Neville made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he carefully removed the jumper he had been wearing and hung it over a small chair by his homework desk. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a shrunken copy of the Daily Prophet, placing it on the desk before gently tapping his new wand to it and enlarging it. Once it was at its regular size, Neville opened it and scanned the articles. He had noticed an article that mentioned plants inside it, which was the only reason he bothered to buy the paper. Usually he didn't bother with the Prophet. "There it is..." He trailed off as he read the plant related article. His eyes narrowed into a glare the more he read. "This... This is!" He threw the paper away from him. "They're murdering innocent plants!" The paper landed on the floor a ways away from Neville, aided on by a small burst of anger-induced magic. The article on the page read,

"THE HARRY POTTER FUND TO BUILD HOUSES FOR THE UNFORTUNATE!

Author: Rita Skeeter

The Harry Potter Fund, a new fund founded by the Ministry and the recently freed Sirius Black, has decided to build a series of houses on the outskirts of Hogsmeade for the unfortunate Witches and Wizards who are unable to..."


Neville stormed out of the manor, despite it being dark out, and made his way to his greenhouse. His thoughts were all focused on the article. He needed to save those plants! He slammed open his greenhouse door and kicked it closed behind him. He went to the cluttered desk, absently grabbing a large brown paper bag from beside the door, and sat down. He opened the bag and pulled out a sleek black spandex-like two-piece suit. He had bought it in Diagon earlier under the guise that he needed a new gardening suit, one that fit better and allowed better movement. He really did need a new one, as he had outgrown his old one a while ago. He had developed a bit of muscle from repeatedly picking up his plants and carrying them across the greenhouse. This new suit was spelled to grow with him and resize itself right off the bat to fit to his form. He got out his wand and used a slightly modified permanent colour-change charm to change the left shoulder of the top and right leg of the bottoms to a nice grass-green colour. He held up the newly coloured suit and nodded appreciatively at it.

"Neville?" He turned to the door at the sound his gran's voice and a soft knock. "Neville, please, don't lock yourself up in there again..."

"Don't worry gran!" He shouted out to her, shoving the suit back into the bag and standing. "I just... forgot to water a few of the plants today!" The lie rolled easily off his tongue. "I'll be out soon!" He heard her sigh in relief before walking off. Neville continued listening for a little while longer, before turning to his plants. "You guys, can you help me with a quick something?" The plants whispered their affirmative and Neville smiled. "Great! I need armour. Um, some of the more magical plants... can you lend me some of your leaves?"


It was near midnight that night when Neville exited his greenhouse, wearing his new costume. Covering his chest and upper-back was a piece of armour made from magic resistant and strengthened leaves, shaped like a muggle bullet-proof vest. In his hands was his new wand and a yellow utility belt, filled with different sorts of plant-related items. He placed his wand into a holster attached to the utility belt before clasping it around his waist. He sneaked into the manor and made his way towards the still roaring fire, grabbing a handful of floo powder as he went. He threw the powder into the flames with a shout of "Hog's Head!," stepped into the now green fire, and was whisked away to his destination. He tumbled out of the Hog's Head Inn's fireplace seconds later. The late-night patrons barely glanced at him as he made his way out the door, quickly casting a Scourgify on his costume to clear away the soot. They had seen stranger things before.


Neville stalked down the road, semi-hidden in the shadows. After about a half hour of walking, he reached the place where the houses were going to be built. He bit back an angry and anguished cry at all the plants that were already dug up. He scowled and, with a magic-enforced kick, broke open the gate separating him and the yard. He gripped his wand tightly and prowled through the grounds. He stopped in front of the dug-up earth, and reached into his utility belt, pulling out a few dark yellow seeds. "Go, my babies..." He whispered as he threw the seeds into the dirt pile.

"HEY! Who's over there!" Someone shouted from a guardhouse set up a few metres away. "Lumos!" A bright beam of light swept over Neville, who simply stood there. "Oh! Mister Longbottom, why, I almost didn't recognize-"

"Silencio!" Neville swiped his wand at the guard. 'Time to test out that spell I read about earlier...' Neville turned to the silenced guard and raised his wand up. "It's nothing personal. Sectumsempra!" He slashed downwards, and the guard jumped off to the side. Nothing seemed to happen at first, until the guard started bleeding from multiple tiny cuts leading up his arm. "Wingardium Leviosa!" A shovel that sat in the dirt above the guard lifted, before slamming down on the man's head, rendering him unconscious.

"Mike? Hey, Mike, where'd you go?" Another guard shouted into the darkness. "Lum-" He was cut off by a low rumbling coming from the dirt next to Neville. Thick vines shot out of the dirt, the end of each holding a clamping mouth much like a Venus Fly-trap, and leading to a larger mouth which served as it's 'body'. Neville smiled and caressed a vine that swooped down at him.

"You're so pretty my dear..." The vine wrapped around him lovingly, before striking out quickly at the the other guard. The guard dodged and stared up at the vine in fright.

"What the hell is that!" The guard scrambled to his feet to dodge the vine once again, and raised his wand. "Reducto!" The mouth on the end of the vine was blasted off, and the plant seemed to screech. The guard raised his wand at Neville, only to discover that the boy was now in front of him, fist raised. His fist slammed into the guards face, a loud crunch signified his broken nose, and sent him back a few feet.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Neville shouted. "You hurt her! You son of a bitch!" The guard stared at Neville.

"L-Longbottom? What the-"

"You think you can just harm my child and get away with it!"

"C-Child? Longbottom that's a pla-" The guard was cut off by Neville jabbing his wand angrily at him.

"REDUCTO!" The guard screamed as the strength of the spell sent him flying, breaking a few of his ribs. The guard landed near the guardhouse, and, in his last few moments of consciousness, raised his wand at activated a silent alarm that called the Aurors. Neville disregarded the man, and turned to his plant. "Oh, my dear, are you alright?" He murmured, walking up to the plant's main body and gently patting it. The plant shuddered under his touch. "That must have hurt. Are you okay?" Before the plant could respond, a couple of cracks sounded out from behind him.

"Stupefy!" A collective call ran out, and several red lights whizzed towards him. Neville ducked under a few of them, but some struck his armour, the spell itself making him fall over, though it did not affect him.

"Who is this nut?" Someone said, as they walked up to him. "Wait, aren't you that Longbo-" The Auror never finished his sentence as Neville jabbed his wand up with a shout of,

"Reducto!" As the Auror flew back, Neville jumped to his feet, protectively standing in front of his dear plant.

"Why is the Longbottom boy here? What is he doing?" One of other Aurors asked, as they all raised their wands.

"What I want to know is where he learnt the Reductor Curse from!" The Aurors lifted their wands a bit higher. "On three! One! Two!" Neville slashed his wand down at this point.

"Sectumsempra!"

"Shit! He knows Dark curses! Stun 'im everyone! Now!" Most of the Aurors raised their wands and sent a Stupefy at Neville's chest, the prime target for a stunning spell. Neville patted his plant and attempted to get hit by every stunner sent, as he was the one with the magic-resistant leaf armour, so his plant wouldn't get hurt anymore. One of the Aurors noticed his protective stance in front of the plant.

"Guys! Distract him!" The rest of Aurors continued to send stunner after stunner, allowing the man to make the wand movements for the Incendio spell. With a final jerk of his wand, aiming up towards the top of the plant, he shouted, "INCENDIO!" Neville, despite his wish to save his plant, jumped out of the way of the spell on reflex. The spell quickly lit his precious plant on fire.

"NO! My plant!" Neville ran forward to save his plant.

"Stupefy!" One of the Aurors shouted, and the spell clipped Neville on the back of his head, sending him spiralling forwards, teetering on unconsciousness. "Grab him! Get him to the holding cells! Someone cast an Auguamenti on that fire!"


Neville sat on the dingy old bed in the holding cell under the Auror Corps' station. His wand and utility belt had been taken from him, along with his armour. He stared at his clenched fists, noting rather absently that his skin had taken a more greenish tinge than earlier, and sighed. He had been so close. He almost saved those plants from murder. He opened one of his fists, and rolled the small yellow-green seed there around his fingers. At least he had gotten a seed from an almost extinct plant while he was there. Now all he needed was some dirt and water, and he could revive this plant. Someone tapped on the bars of his cell.

"Why, Mistah Longbottom! How'd you get arrested so quickly?" Neville jumped to his feet and snarled at the familiar voice.

"YOU!" Neville shoved his fist through the bars, trying to hit the grinning green-haired teen on the other side.

"Aw, c'mon Nevy-boy. Didn't ya' miss me?"

"Joker! You son of a-"

"Ah-ah-ah! None of that language Mistah Longbottom." The Joker sighed. "And to think, I came all the way from my hideout to see ya'. And this is the welcome I get!"

"You tried to kill me!"

"That was a..." The teen licked his lips. "...a mistake. A misunderstanding."

"YOU POISONED ME!" The Joker glared at him.

"No, I made you better." The glare vanished and was replaced with a smile. "Did you like my gift?" Neville backed away from the bars.

"...it does have it's benefits." Green eyes glittered in amusement.

"I am surprised though! To survive that. Ya' must be like me in some ways." Neville frowned.

"I am nothing like you."

"Fine, fine. I just meant that it's like, we're rather alike, 'cause I survived the same thing." His head tilted to the right. "Oh, there's my cue to go." Neville blinked.

"Go?" The Joker grinned and waved cheekily at him.

"Well, say hello to your parents for me Nevy-boy!" And then he was gone, as if he wasn't there in the first place. Neville rubbed his eyes and stared at the spot where he once was.

"My... parents?" He muttered, just as several Aurors burst into the cell, one of them sending a silent Incarcerous at him.

"Well Longbottom, looks like you get the room next to your parents in St. Mungos. You'd like that, won't you?" The lead Auror said, as he gestured for someone to levitate Neville out of the cell. "Enjoy your stay in the St Mungos loony bin brat. We're working on getting a prison made up, just for freaks like you." Neville glared at the man as he was levitated past him. 'At least I still have my seed...'


A/N: Phew. That took a while. Longest chapter I've ever written in my life.

Does anyone have any character ideas? Like, who's the Mad Hatter or who fits the role of Scarecrow? 'cause I can really use some fresh ideas.

Next chapter should be out second week of April sometime. Perhaps sometime next week 'cause of Spring Break. Who knows?


Next Chapter: 2 +2 is 5