This is a oneshot. My fiance would probably kill me for writing this but…oh well.
I don't own Batman or Harry Potter.
Harry ran. He wasn't stupid, no matter what his uncle said. He knew they weren't coming back for him. They'd left him here, in this city. He hadn't needed his uncle to tell him to know what happened to kids on the street either.
He sighed when he stepped into the nearest building. His face still hurt from the last time his uncle had started in on him. He wasn't scared of the city, not exactly. Vernon had been threatening to kill him for years now, he'd almost succeeded once.
He should have been scared all the time, scared that Vernon would go through with it but after years of the threats and beatings, he was beginning to wish that the man would go through with it. At nine, he knew that there were worse things than death.
Now, he was probably going to die on the streets. Something would happen or he might end up starving. He didn't care at that moment, though. Anything was better than living in that house with his so called family.
He rounded the corner in the building. The place looked abandoned but that was before he heard voices and then saw the man lying on the floor. He stared down at the man. He was bleeding from a wound on his chest. Harry knew without looking closer that the man was dead.
He stared down at the man's body, entranced for a moment. He'd never seen a dead person before. Then he heard the voice again and he looked up. There was two men standing there. One, wearing a black suit, had his back to Harry and the other was holding him.
Harry couldn't really see the other man but he was the one who was speaking. His voice sounded a little strange and after a moment, he wrenched his arm to the right. There was a spray of blood and when the man in the black suit fell, Harry saw the knife the other was holding briefly.
The man saw him then and Harry froze. More out of shock at the man's appearance than anything else. His hair was tinted green. It was stringy and almost reached his shoulders. He was wearing purple. His face was painted white and red around his mouth but it didn't fully cover up the scars on his face.
He pushed his hair off his face with the hand still holding the knife and started towards Harry. He even walked strange. Kind of hunched over, head bowed a little bit.
"And what have we here?" He asked, dragging the words out in that strange voice. Harry glanced away from the man and down to the two dead bodies before meeting the man's eyes again. This guy was a killer and judging from the light in his eyes probably psychotic.
Harry had just seen him kill a man. With these observations, he figured that he was more than likely going to die here too. He thought about his options for a moment. He might be able to run, make it out and then what? If he went to the police, he might even end up back at his uncles. He stood his ground.
When the man got close enough, he grabbed a hold of Harry's chin, lifting his head. Harry let him, staring up at him blankly. He wasn't afraid. The man opened his mouth to speak but stopped, bending closer to Harry and studying his eyes.
"You…are not afraid." It was a statement and Harry would have shaken his head if one of his glove clad hands wasn't holding it so tightly.
"No," he said instead, staring up at him. "Do it, already…" He paused. Maybe this would be a good thing. No more Vernon hovering over him with a raised fist, no more running from Dudley on the playground, no more listening to Petunia screech through the door of the cupboard he'd been forced to sleep in. "I want you to do it."
The man surprised him, however, when he let go of Harry's chin and took a step back. A laugh escaped him, the sound as strange as his voice. He tilted his head and studied Harry for a moment before putting the knife away.
He started out the way Harry had gone in, grabbing a hold of Harry's shirt to drag him with him for a few steps. Harry took the hint. It was stupid, yes, but he'd been telling the truth. He wasn't afraid. He followed the man out. The man glanced at him as they made it back out on the street.
"Wanna know how I got these scars?"