Gotham's Newest Protector
Synopsis: After losing his parents to a dark wizard, Harry Potter is adopted by Vernon and Petunia Dursley, two rich socialites who simply adore the newest member of their family… or so it seems. Harry's upbringing is harsh and brutal, full of physical and verbal abuse. That is until one of Vernon's clients takes a particular interest in him, rescuing him from his plight. Many years later, at age 11, Harry Potter fights alongside his new family as Gotham City' newest protector. Then one day, a mysterious letter arrives at Wayne Manor… and Harry's life changes once more.
Chapter 1: Don't Judge a Book
Vernon Dursley smiled as the boy cowered in the corner of his room. "I've told you, Harry." He said, his voice soft and cheerful. "If you ever did anything like what you did last week when the Mason's visited… oh now what was it?" He placed his free hand on his chin, stroking it in mock thought, as the other twirled the belt absentmindedly. Harry gave out a shuddering breath, clutching his bruised side. "S-s-sss" he hissed, tears streaming down his face. Vernon walked over and kicked him, sending him crashing into the wall. "SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TOO!" he roared, his cheerful demeanor gone. "T—there'd b-be hell…" Harry stammered quickly. Vernon smiled. "Very good. Only three lashes this time." The belt flew through the air, and came crashing down.
It had been like this since he was two. When there was no danger of a misstep killing a poor little baby. And when… IT had started. Harry didn't really know how to classify IT. IT was just something he could do. He thought it was normal. He used to wiggle his tiny little fingers and make the papers in the corner of his room swirl around. It delighted him. Until Petunia had caught him one day. She had dragged him down to Vernon who had beat him senseless. He'd spent the next few hours completely unconscious. Since then, any slight misstep had earned him a "whuupin" from Vernon and Petunia. Sometimes even Fat Dudley joined in, stomping on poor Harry's fingers with his fat feet. Now at 5 years old, Harry was no better. IT got less controllable with age, which meant more beatings. It was a terrible kind of cycle for the young boy. And there was no escape in sight
To the public, Vernon and Petunia Dursley where simply delightful. Rich, affable, loveable, homely and most of all: generous. They where the kind of people to always see on the covers of magazines; Vernon for some new big business deal he was making and Petunia surrounded by gaggles of smiling children at some big charity event. Dursley stories where popular on talk shows, in gossip rags and in general conversation. And by far, everyone's favourite was the story of the adoption of the Dursley's second child. Everyone remembered Petunia Dursley on Oprah, struggling to hold back tears as she recounted the tragic car accident that had taken her beloved sister Lily from her. And the firmness in her voice when she promised from the bottom of her heart that her and Vernon would do everything in their power to keep young baby Harry safe. The poor boy, who survived the accident with only an odd shaped scar to show for it. And people across Britain and even in America cheered. Another lovely story for the Dursley's.
Vernon walked into the lavish living room, putting his belt back on. "That's entertainment." He said smiling. Vernon never considered himself a violent man. He was rich enough to get other people to do his work for him. But he considered beating the young piece of shit upstairs a worthwhile exception to that norm. He blamed it on the brats parents. The mother, having the audacity to reject him, calling him a pig. And the father… oh the father. Raggedy, leather jacket wearing bastard. Pretending he was so much better than Vernon. Why, beating the snot out of their little shit of a son was fair game as far as Vernon was concerned.
Petunia smiled as her husband approached. "Glad you got it out of your system. Remember, no visible bruising before tomorrow." Vernon placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Relax, Pet. You worry too much what some playboy will think of us." Petunia frowned at him. "Bruce Wayne is not just some playboy. He owns and maintains one of the most successful companies in the world. He has enough money to buy twenty houses like the one we have right now. And most importantly, brokering a deal with him will be yet another Dursley success story." Vernon leaned in and kissed his wife on the cheek. "What, oh what would I do without you?" he smiled against her cheek. Petunia snorted. "Go under." Both laughed at that. "He'll be coming by around 12 for lunch. I've instructed Marcia and Dwight to prepare a lavish feast for him. Apparently he's bringing his son… well one of them anyway." Vernon said. "I take it you've talked to Dudders?" Petunia nodded. "Bribed him with some of those sweets he likes. During your entertainment, did you manage to get the message through to the boy?" Vernon smiled wistfully. "I think he was mostly out when I told him. But he'll get the message. Part of me does hope he disobeys. I want to shove that new broom Marcia brought into his "no no" area or whatever the fuck he calls it." He grunted.
Harry lay on the floor of his room, breathing raggedly. He hated his life. He hated everything. He wanted to die, or to be rescued. He crawled feebly over to his bed. "Just have to behave tomorrow." He told himself over and over again. "Like it matters" the cynical part of himself thought. Vernon would beat him anyway. And then again the next visit of whoever came round. Vernon didn't care. He'd hurt him anyway. Harry climbed into bed and buried his face into his pillow. At least Vernon wouldn't hear him cry