Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or DC Universe, but as it happens I do own this story just not any of the recognisable characters or settings within.

WARNINGS! Dark themes will be popping up from time to time within this story. Viewer discretion is advised. You have been warned.

A/N: P.S. Your welcome Anons.

†Uncle Vernon's Mistake†

"M-Maybe we should turn back," Aunt Petunia urged as the sky began to darken along with the city around them. Her eyes darted at their surroundings, her grip on Uncle Vernon's arm seemed to be considerably tighter than when they left the theatre. Not that the Walrus of a man cared as he shrugged off her concerns leading them further into the darkening Alley. "The man must have been mistaken."

"Nonsense Pet' the bloke at the theatre said this was the quickest route back to the Hotel. What harm could come about by taking a short cut?" Uncle Vernon asked in a tone that sounded as if nothing could go wrong. Though Freak could tell he was just as nervous as Aunt Petunia with the way his, mean beady, eyes scanned the Alley.

Aunt Petunia wasn't so easily convinced. She might not have been the smartest, nor the prettiest, but she certainly wasn't oblivious—Freak would say that she was the opposite, always spying on their rule-abiding neighbours back in England—she had heard all the horror stories about Gotham, and its high crime rate. "I—I suppose. It's just poor Diddykin's is exhausted... and—and the Freak might run-off." She hesitated at the end, re-adjusting her son on her hip, glancing warily back at her nephew who had stopped to read the sign at the entrance to the Alley his green eyes—Lily's eyes she would often remind herself—seemed to glow in the faint light of the moon.

"PAH! All the better then! Ungrateful rugrat cost me an extra ticket! Lousy Americans'd be better off minding their business!" Uncle Vernon snarled being sure to glare at the boy in question as if it was all his fault they were taking this route.

"We can't abandon him here, Vernon, who knows what They might do to us if we did," said Aunt Petunia once again her eyes darted around, though this time she was looking for any signs of Freak's kind of people. "They could be watching us now!"

Uncle Vernon scoffed, though to Freak it sounded as if the purple Walrus was choking—he wished he was—"If they know what's good for them, they'd stay away." Said Uncle Vernon with a dark undertone near the end. "Hurry up Boy. You're slowing us down."

Freak glanced up at the sky with a look of disappointment, seeing the stars and moon were among his favourite things about the night. But here the clouds were too thick and only a smidge of the moon could be seen shining through. He hated the City, it always smelled foul no matter where it was. The people who made it like that, in his opinion, were even worse than the smell, destroying nature the way they were with their cars and other inventions. He was startled out of his brooding by his Walrus of an Uncle calling for him to hurry up. "Yes sir." Came Freaks quiet reply casting his eyes to the filthy ground as he walked in their shadow.

Freak knew his relatives didn't like him like they did his cousin, Dudley. He didn't know what he did to deserve such hatred, he cooked for them and cleaned for them, he tried everything to please them... but it was never good enough. He discovered they had lied to him about his name, that it wasn't Freak or Boy rather it was Harry a simple name for a simple boy. A name he believes he has no right to, his parents died in the car crash that gave him his strange scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, a reminder of what he lost. He preferred to stick with Freak, the boy who knew life to be a cruel game, rather than Harry the boy who lost everything when his parents died.

Freak thought he knew the terrors of man, until tonight. Something seemed different about tonight, off you could say. There was an edge to the darkness that made his hackles rise. He too began to eye the shadows of the Alley with suspicion his ears twitched at the slightest sound the wind howled above them, not filling any of them with much confidence. Freak wasn't watching where he was going with his head still down and...

*CRASH!* MRAOOW!

The loud howling hiss noise, originating from the cat Freak had accidentally stepped on as he crashed into a pile of metal trashcans, woke Dudley who began to wail. Most likely waking the locals with how loud the blond pig was.

Uncle Vernon cursed, snatching his arm from Aunt Petunia who had begun trying to soothe Dudley, and turned a furious gaze on Freak who was imitating a deer caught in headlights at that moment. "Your gonna get it this time Boy!" Uncle Vernon snarled Freak flinched away from him when the purple-faced man raised a hand as if to strike him.

But lucky for Freak, Aunt Petunia's ear-piercing scream of terror, it seemed, would be his saving grace. As Uncle Vernon spun around with wild eyes, Freak didn't waste any time in diving behind one of the larger waste bins, or dumpsters, in the Alley as soon as his back was turned. Peeking out to see what was going on.

What he saw would stick with him, likely for the rest of his life.

Out of the shadows came a man, no. A monster with the face of a rugged man, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, making Freak feel as if his untidy hair—something of a great annoyance to Uncle Vernon—was well-groomed in comparison. His yellow teeth left much to be desired, but that wasn't what caught Freak's eye. No, that honour would go to the green glinting shard of glass he held within his grasp. Forcing himself to stay calm Freak sat behind the dumpster and waited for Uncle Vernon to deal with the much smaller, but far more insane, male adult.

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, had whipped around when she heard a strange shuffling noise behind herself and the still wailing Dudley. She froze when she felt a cold, but none the less sharp object touch the skin of her neck, Dudley no longer in her arms. She did the only thing she could in a situation such as this... she screamed. Long and loud hoping to attract her husband's attention.

"Ya' should'nta dun tha' girly," said her captor his breath reeked of cigarettes and alcohol causing her nose to scrunch up. "Now's ya gone'n made a mess'a things. I can't letcha's leav'ere, lest not witcha lives."

Aunt Petunia whimpered and prayed silently for Vernon to help her." Pl-please no. D-don't let him hurt my precious baby." she begged whatever might've been listening to her desperate plea. Before she felt the jagged glass glide across the flesh of her neck her eyes met those of her nephew who was hidden in the shadows and was struck with a thought. "Is this our punishment? For not being able to love her son as I should have? For treating him as we did? Is this how I die?.." her thoughts broke off when the last thing she heard was her husband's furious roar of vengeance. The world faded to black with her last thoughts lingering on the boy with hair as back as night and eyes as green as a jade stone.

Uncle Vernon watched in a muted horror as his wife's body crumpled to the ground, her blood surrounding her like a red halo as it spread out on the hard stone ground of the Alley. His son was wailing at the feet of the monster his meaty hand clutching his mothers blood-stained straw blond hair. Then all Uncle Vernon could see was red, he wasn't just angry. He was Furious! No psychopathic abomination of mankind would be his end...

Or so he believed. But as it happened it was. Somewhere in the distance, Freak heard dogs howling. Freak covered his ears when he heard Uncle Vernon's cry of pain, unwilling to believe he had lost, the man who would beat him with a vengeance couldn't be dead... could he? His green eyes were tightly closed, a beat. Then another. Silence. It was quiet too quiet, slowly he uncovered his ears and opened his eyes peeking out from behind the dumpster. He felt his heart drop at the sight.

Standing victorious was the monster made by man. He was hovering over Freak's pig cousin, Dudley, a sinister yellow-stained grin shone in the darkness of the Alley—Freak knew it to be named Crime Alley, as the sign had said—his eyes, a pale grey that burned like ice and were filled with something darker than hatred. Freak's own eyes were fixed on the broken bottle glass the monster held in his grip, he saw the red dripping from it and grit his teeth, watching him raise it above his head as if preparing for an execution. Freak didn't like it. Not one bit.

Sure his older cousin was an ungrateful bully, who was spoilt rotten, but he was still no older than himself at six and a half and smaller than the monster who hovered above him preparing to strike. Freak had seen a lot in his short life, but the only things in it he felt true hatred for were bullies. People who, like his relatives, pushed around those weaker than themselves because it gave them what so many craved. Power. The greatest crux of mankind. The second was fear.

Sirens blared, signalling the arrival of the police. The red and blue lights illuminated the unmoving adult corpses that lay feet from a young boy with striking green eyes. He could be found in one of the most infamous alleys Gotham could yield—the most aptly named too—Crime Alley.

Gotham City a dark and foreboding place rife with crime, grime, and corruption. Orphans were common here, no place for a child.

Freak wanted the man to Pay! They didn't deserve to die like that! But the man deserved worse than what he had done to them. Freak would be sure of it.

Freak, a boy burdened with the consequence of being born unwanted and unneeded. A boy who only wanted to be loved. Now he couldn't get that love he craved so dearly, even if it was from the Dursley's. There had been a time he had done anything to please them until the reality of his life had hit him full force in the face.

Freak didn't so much as flinch when the jagged glass struck his face, he merely reached up to touch it with his hand dragging a bloodied finger through it. His tongue darted out of his mouth to taste the coppery tang of blood, a grin slowly stretching across his face, mirroring the one the monster had worn minutes prior. Unbeknownst to himself Freak's eyes slowly bleed to crimson from their previous jade green as if possessed.

The monster's screams were silent, muted by The Power the child wielded. A Power greater than most dared to want.

As it is unclear as to what had transpired in the most infamous alley in the City—at least in the eyes of the police—they had taken the boy in for questioning, being the only one on the scene of the crime, Dudley had fled when Freak told him to run when he made himself known, it was only fair for them to assume he had a part to play in it. It wasn't unusual for murderous children to make themselves known in the crime-ridden city.

Is that satisfactory oh so mysterious anons? Or did you want me to waste away making it even longer. I don't write because You tell me to I do it because I feel like it. Because it takes me away from my RL that is as cursed as anyone else. Life sucks Deal with it.