Prologue:

Petunia Dursley was not always the woman she now was today. At one point, she had been a happy child with loving parents, a younger and adorable sister, and for awhile, everything had seemed right in the world.

Then, on a day that seemed like any other, HE came into their lives. A sniveling wretched child, whose parents spent most of their time arguing and fighting with each others for reasons that as a child she couldn't understand, but now as an adult, and living the life she had after that unfaithful encounter, knew all too well.

Dressed in mismatching clothing, his hair long and unkempt, greasy in appearance, and his nose abnormally large for a child his age, he had grown enthralled by her younger sister, Lily, claiming them to be special. In having the gift of magic, of making the impossible possible, of turning dreams into reality. A gift that Petunia did not share, which had caused the putrid boy to immediately dismiss her as something less than satisfactory, than human, not even worth a second glance at. It had infuriated her then, and it do so now whenever the memory was revisited.

This…gift, her sister and the boy shared, even at a young age, was something that she grown envious of. It was not something she had been consciously aware of until the day the letter that the boy, Severus he had introduced himself as, had predicted would arrive for her sister.

An acceptance letter to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The beast had reared its ugly head instantly, snapping its powerful and hungry jaws at Petunia's heart, devouring it whole and until it took its place, beating within her every second of her life since.

Originally awed by her sister's ability when she first reviled it to her, she had made her keep it a secret, unsure of how her parents would react and fearing the worse. At the time, her sister meant the world to her, and she would have done anything to protect her.

It was a shame that the feeling was never returned.

When the Headmaster of this school had come to pick Lily up and take her to a place called Diagon Alley, Petunia had begged the old man to take her with him, to somehow bestow upon her the same abilities that her sister had. He had given her a 'grandfatherly' smile, which did nothing but cause a deep burning rage of jealous anger as he said that he could not give her the abilities that her sister shared, that it was something one was born with, and that even if he were somehow able to grant her wish, he would not, as she was too old to join the school, and would be at an extreme disadvantage.

Taking her sister away, they had returned hours later, Lily filled with wonders stories of the place that had magic in every nook and cranny, arms filled with chocolate frogs that leaped around the house, a cauldron that stirred itself, even when empty, and a real live wand, that with her new Headmaster's permission, shot sparks from.

Her parents were delighted. The elderly old man found their reactions as well as his newest student's amusing. Petunia merely glared coldly at the scene.

For the first time in her life, she felt like a true outsider in her own home. It would not be the last.

Her sister departed aboard the red locomotive heading towards the enchanted castle that her sister had read so much about within its own titled book, Hogwarts, A History. She had tried for weeks to convince her sister of finding some way of sharing her magical gifts, which she had vehemently refused time and time again. She had been told that it was impossible by Professor Dumbledore, whom by her study of the man, was one of the greatest wizards of the age. If he said it was impossible, then what reason did she have not to believe him?

Her answer infuriated Petunia, and as a result, had not spoken to her for the remainder of the summer holidays until her departure aboard the Hogwarts Express. She had nastily snide at her that life at home would be much better without her, which had hurt her younger sister terribly. What guilt she felt at her own stinging words were butchered by the jealousy that so deeply clouded her mind.

She did not know how wrong her assumption and cruel comment truly was.

Upon the discovery of her sister's gift, her parent's full attention had gone to their youngest and as a result, ignored the needs and attention that she, Petunia, required.

It was unintentional, or that was how it would seem from Mr. and Mrs. Evans point of view. They're youngest daughter barely at the age of eleven, was discovered to hold an ability that defied logic and rationality. Not only that, but she had been asked to join a school they had never heard of, nor know the location of, and wouldn't see their child for nine months out of a year for the next seven years, not counting the Yule holidays should Lily wish to return, until she reached the age of majority. They were missing out on a great chunk of their daughter's childhood and life, which would drastically turn to a world they could not truly begin to understand. To a rational adult, it would make sense, and would be understandable how one's attention becomes so focused on one of your children.

To a thirteen year old girl however, it was painful neglect, insecurities on her own self-worth and place in the hearts of her mother and father, and later, a belief that beside her 'perfect sister' Lily, that Petunia was less than perfect. That she was imperfect. After all, why would her parents, whom had before the discovery of Lily's magical abilities treated her and Lily equally with bouts of affection, suddenly turn their full attention only to her, and no longer on Petunia herself?

It should come as no surprise that Petunia, just as she had began to resent her sister for her magical talents, began to resent her parents, which would, as all resentment does, turn to outright hatred.

Years went by, and Lily grew more and more into her magical heritage, out rightly ignoring her more mundane roots, her parent's still lavishing their love and attention on her. Beautiful, having the attention of many young men, both within their neighborhood and from the stories that she told of an infuriating boy called James Potter, at that freak school of hers, Lily was soon becoming a blooming orchid while she, Petunia, slowly became a withering weed. Years of having no love from her parents (whom saw their oldest daughter's shunning and cold behavior as rebellious teenage behavior), Petunia, who had held herself above all the pretences of being a teenage girl, devoted herself to nothing but her studies and twisted belief and visions and what 'perfection' was. As a result, she alienated herself from her peers, subject to nasty rumors, teasing, and bullying. She took it all as criticism, which made her only stride harder to become 'perfect', which she attributed to 'normal'. She expected nothing from them, as, if her own parents could not love her, why would random strangers do so?

Upon reaching her majority, and finishing her required secondary education, she had left home without so much as saying goodbye to her parents, or even seeing her sister off to her second to last year at her 'freak school'. Getting several scholarships and working two jobs on the side, in addition to whatever money she had saved while growing up, she embarked to gain a tertiary education at University.

It was at this time that she met the young, if not slightly overweight man that was known as Vernon Dursley. They're meeting had been a complete accident, as at the time, Petunia was stuck on the side of the road, her car having finally died out on her due to lack of car repairs, the cost of which was far too expensive from her bills and school expenses, that she barely meet ends meet from working two jobs. He had pulled over, knowing a far bit about mechanics, and having realized how much disrepair her car had been in, called to have it towed away before giving her a ride home. He had been nothing but gentlemanly throughout, and upon an invitation insider her loft (which wouldn't have lead to anything, as she was not that type of woman) insisted that she had a rough night, and that he didn't require any reward for public decency to his fellow man/woman. It had kindled something alight within in her heart, which had warmed her until their fateful meeting two weeks later in the middle of the London's King's Crossing, where he had boldly asked her out on a date, which she had accepted, flush from the gesture.

From the initial first date, and subsequent yearlong relationship that followed, when Vernon had gotten down on one knee and proposed to her, she knew her answer could be nothing else but yes.

It was the single happiest moment of her life, and for awhile, she believed that nothing could spoil it.

She was wrong.

Upon her parent's declining health, she had gone to visit them at their behest, her life her own. She was engaged to be married, to a loving husband with a good job, had the house of dreams situated in a nice quiet, and safe suburban area, and if things went according to plan, she would be bringing her own child into the world.

Truly, it was a time in which Petunia never felt happier.

But, as it has since been the case since the dawn of time, not all good things are meant to last, and the most fleeting moments of happiness are often followed by the tragedy of grief.

Seeing both of her parent's on their death beds, Petunia had thought that for a fleeting moment, that all her efforts, which she had believed for so long, had been in vain, had finally seen fruitarian. Her parents finally had seen her, her, and would open their hearts to her once more. It would be a bittersweet moment, knowing that it had taken them until their near passing in order to come to grips with what they had done to her, but she would forgive them. Despite her thoughts on the matter, she did not hate her parents completely, and a small part of her, the part that was still a little girl who idolized her parents and loved her sister more than anything, still existed within.

And with just four words, four tiny words, did that little part of her wither and die, the child within her yearning for the love of her parents that she had been cruelly robbed of, replaced by a bitter, scornful, and hateful woman.

"Petunia dear, where's Lily?"

And just like that, years of repressed anger, hatred, sadness, insecurities, and jealousy was released from her being. She screamed at them, ranted, on how even on their death beds, all they could think about was their precious Lily. How for years she had been dealt with neglect, how the last time she remembered someone saying that they loved her was when she was twelve, and how it taken nearly ten years for her to hear it again from her soon to be husband. How she had worked herself to near death to gain their love, and how nothing she ever did was good enough for them, as nothing could compare to their second, and now only daughter, Lily. She wished them an early death, and hoped that they found solace with the fact that they abandoned one daughter, who did everything in her power to win their affection, for one who did not even care to know they were sick and dying, let alone visit them.

She left them, ignoring their calls for her to return, that they were sorry, that they wished to discuss what she had just screamed herself hoarse at them, that they never meant for her to feel like they had abandoned her in favor of Lily, which turned from to desperate pleas and sobbing cries of reconciliation.

Though she may have not said it to them in their face, they could clearly hear the underlining message that she had delivered, which would be the one thing on their minds for the first par their magical child Lily.

I hate you. It was the one thing no parent wanted to hear their child say, especially when it was most likely going to be the last thing they ever said to you.

For Mr. and Mrs. Evans, it was. Two weeks later, they died in their sleep, in tears and alone with each other, knowing until they took their last breaths that their eldest hated them for mistakes they could not take back, and that their youngest, Lily, had never responded to their calls to her, or come to visit. They died with the doubt that they were good parents, a doubt that would always haunt their memory.

Nobody claimed or picked up the bodies, despite the hospital calling both daughters of the Evans family. As a result, they were buried in a public cemetery, their remains cremated, and would remain unvisited as Lily, whom was now in hiding from the Dark Lord Voldemort with her husband James, whom would later die a year later, and Petunia, who when asked, would vehemently claim that she had no mother or father. This point was proven more thoroughly as at the time of her wedding; the rows usually dedicated to family were hauntingly empty.

Now, more than a year later, she was faced with another aspect of her troubled life that she wished to never once again have to deal with.

Magic, in the form of an infant child.

Her nephew, Harry James Potter.

After discovering him outside her door earlier that morning, Petunia had read the letter attached to the child's blanket, and upon discovering who wrote the letter, and its contents, had filled Petunia with a cold fury. Taking the child, she had quickly taken the keys to Vernon's car, placing the child in the passenger seat, before driving off into the outskirts of London.

Thoughts of what this wretched child could, and would do to her family filled her mind, each one more badly than the last. Of the child somehow taking the attention away from her precious Dudley, whom would grow up unloved, much like she herself had. She knew nothing of magic or the foul acts that the boy could enforce upon her and Vernon that would make them ignore, possibly even hate their own child, much like Lily and her unnaturalness did to their family.

She'd rather drown the foul little bastard then have him usurp her Dudley's place in her heart!

But she was not a murderer, and certainly not a child killer at that, but something had to be done. She refused to let this foul thing in her house, no matter what that old fool said. She owed nothing to Lily, and she would not be saddled with taking care of her sister's brat because she got herself killed or even pregnant in the first place. She refused!

But that still left her with the problem on what to do with the child…

Her frantic driving, eventually paid off, as at the very outskirts of the center of London, Whitechapel she believed, she found herself coming towards a unanimous and slightly old church. Gothic in style, and looked to what appeared to be centuries old, Petunia felt something deep within her resonate with the decrypt building. Driving the car to the front of the outstretched dirt path leading to the church's front oak doors, Petunia debated with herself for a brief moment before ultimately unbuckling her safety belt and exiting the car, only to go around the front to the passenger side, opening the door and taking her nephew into her arms and to the church itself.

Once there, she debated about knocking on the large doors, alerting the clergy to her arrival, but decided against it. They would ask questions, questions she could not, and did not want to answer. Laying the child down, and having the mindset to wrap it more securely into its blanket, Petunia gave the child one last look, and felt a sense of foreboding and doubts cloud her mind for a brief moment. For one second, the little girl buried deep underneath the hate, the insecurities, the jealousy, reared her head and screamed that this was her nephew, little Lily's child, and that she couldn't abandoned him no matter her feelings to the contrary.

And just like that, the voice was buried once more and silenced as the bitter woman that innocent child had become spoke, reminding Petunia of all the injustices she had suffered. Of all the hate that she held for her younger sister, of all the insecurities that she had regarding her parent's and the place she held in the heart that seemed to have grown smaller with each passing day, instead given to her 'perfect sister'. Of the fact that she had gained the handsome, funny, and kind husband while she (in a moment of self-reflection that would not last but a mere second), had gained a short-tempered, obese, and often times uncaring man that she now had no choice but to love. Of the fact that she could do something she could never dream of doing, all because she was 'born' with the power to do so. An unnatural ability. A freak.

Turning her cold eyes towards the infant once more, she gave an undignified snort at it, spitting at the ground beneath her feet before she turned on her heel and walked back to the car, turning on the ignition and speeding off into the streets of London, never looking back. This would be the last time that Petunia Dursley would see her nephew for a great many years, and she had no idea the consequences that would form due to her petty actions.

Meanwhile, back at the church, a figure, who had watched the woman leave the child with no note, before spitting at it and driving away, stepped out of the shadows of the tree he had taken refuge in as soon as the woman pulled up in front of the rather ominously looking house of worship.

He cast the retreating vehicle a dark glare, hoping that the Righteous Fury of the Father bare down upon the woman for her actions before turning his eyes, now holding a glint of curiosity, at the squirming child.

Pale skin, even for a baby, he noticed the bright green eyes the child held, in addition to the small mop of night black hair on top of its head. What truly gained his attention however the lightning shaped scar present on the child's forehead.

Picking the child up into his arms, he stared hard at the scar, before looking into the child's emerald green eyes, and giving a small smile as the child reached for the cross shaped pennant draped over his neck.

"Hello to you as well…Harry Potter…"

/-/Author's Note\-\\

A little story that I cooked up after getting back into the DC Universe Comics, playing Batman: Arkham City, and then immersing myself into the Justice League cartoon again. Ah, the more memorable times of my youth…

Anyway, I have read a few HP/DC Universe, or Justice League crossovers, where they generally follow the theme of Harry either ending up the son of Bruce Wayne, his sibling, or in the very rare occasion, a Kryptonian on his mother's/father's side. From there, it plays out to the book series, adding in that Harry has either the intelligence and cunning of Bruce, superpowers, or some other ability that just makes him overpowered and steamroll the entire first and second book, which is where author's generally run out of steam. Not this time ladies and gentleman! I have a whole written draft of where this story goes, beginning, middle, and end, the ending itself already written. I have incorporated ideas from the comics, games, and cartoon, and am pretty confident with what I have in mind story-wise. Regardless, let me know what you think by leaving me a review. Criticism is welcomed, as always.

Also, in regards to Petunia's character, let me know if I over did it or not.