I own nothing relating to any series, including Harry Potter, DC and any other series I might mention.

This will be a mixture of series and universes, including DC Pre-Crisis, DC Post-Crisis, DCAU, DCAMU and Young Justice. There are likely going to be others added in as well, but those are the primary ones.

This story is inspired by Project Hera mentioned in Chapter 69 of Bits and Bobs by Jonn Wolfe. Rather than do a HP crossover with DC the same way, I wanted to include a ridiculous idea I came up with.

Project Hera

Chapter 1

It started with the unmitigated failure that was Project Kr, an attempt at cloning Superman. Despite having straight-from-the-source samples of his DNA, they were unable to properly clone him. Something about it just didn't work, no matter what they did. They tried red solar energy, yellow, blue, exposing it to kryptonite and everything in between and nothing worked. It wasn't until they started adding human samples that they found a measure of success.

And then Lex Luthor took over and turned it into an unmitigated success. After less than a week, they had their first and only viable clone, sample number sixty-six.

Of course, as Project Kr was getting close to its final stages, it was abducted by the members of a group that went by Young Justice, a teen-based group of heroes that were learning control, morals and how to help or save people. A waste of time in the opinions of Cadmus, but it did also mean more potential samples for new projects.

With the success of Project Kr, Cadmus started pulling DNA samples from the main members of the Justice League. Following it was Project Changeling, later renamed to Project Beast Boy when they learned the martian-human hybrid could only transform into other animals. And was permanently green. A bit of a failure but not terribly so.

After Project Beast Boy came Project Galatea, a clone of Supergirl. Luthor showed everyone up, including himself by making a perfect clone of a Kryptonian. Superman apparently had a genetic marker that prevented proper cloning and Luthor had discovered Supergirl didn't have the same marker.

Next came Project Huntress, a spliced clone of Batman with Catwoman. Though she needed physical training in order to produce results, she had dexterity and hand-eye coordination in the top point one percentile, if not better.

Project Falcon was next, a spliced clone between Hawkgirl and Hawkman, what amounted to their child considering they were married. He was somewhat of a failure, having physical attributes equivalent to a standard Thanagarian, albeit one in excellent condition.

Project Impulse was next and was the one they had the most trouble with, considering the Speed-Force factor. A spliced clone of three different Flashes; the original from the thirties and forties, the first one from the modern era and the current Flash. Unfortunately, the G-Gnomes had a difficult time implanting memories and thoughts because of how fast his brain ran, not to mention he kept partially phasing through things.

Project Perseus was next to last, splicing Aqualad and Aquaman. He was another failure, having abilities and strengths less than average of what was known of the common Atlantean. His powers seemed magic-based, which none of the scientists were knowledgeable about and thus they couldn't progress with him as they wanted.

Project Hera was supposed to be Cadmus' magnum opus. For the time being anyway, they had other clones they wanted to try as soon as they had a good number of samples. Some suggested a spliced clone between the Kryptonians and Tamaraneans since both had solar-based powers. They had even taken to calling it Project Starlord before it had even been approved, then Project Valkyrie, a spliced clone of Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl.

Cloning Wonder Woman held almost as much challenge as Superman had, something getting in the way of the final step. And then someone had the idea to use Superman's DNA to patch up the errors. Of course, rather than do that, someone else had the idea to take the best traits of both and properly combine them. And thus, Project Hera came into being.

It wasn't all peaches and cream, however. Project Hera seemed to have… nightmares, for lack of a better word. Far too much brain activity for what the G-Gnomes were supposed to be implanting. And they were constantly in REM sleep, their muscular structure only improving due to the solar radiation they were pumping into her containment pod.

Despite that, her attributes were off the charts. According to what he told the press, Superman didn't start to develop the majority of his abilities until his teens whereas Project Hera started to develop almost from the get-go. At roughly the equivalent of six years old, they needed titanium-tipped syringes to take DNA samples and specialized cutting implements to trim her hair. At ten, they needed to use kryptonite on top of it. At sixteen, they had difficulties getting blood samples even with kryptonite, so they had to weaken her with red solar energy for long enough to get a sample and laser cutting for her hair.

Strangely enough, she stopped aging at roughly fourteen. Most everyone attributed it to the Amazonian blessing but no one stopped to question why it activated at such a young age when Wonder Woman looked like she was in her mid-twenties rather than her teens.

No one was expecting her to wake up on her own, especially given that the G-Gnomes were programmed to keep her asleep until she was fully programmed.

~Z~

The Daily Prophet

July 31, 1995

The Last of Laurel Potter

By Bartholomew Smith

Dear readers of The Daily Prophet, I will say this article took me longer to write than I had hoped. I have started and restarted this piece more times than I have to any other article during my years of journalism.

Before her death at the hands of what are now confirmed Death Eaters shortly after an attempt to resurrect the Dark Lord Voldemort, Miss Potter wrote a letter describing events in life that she can remember with clarity.

In light of recent events I have decided that, instead of taking it apart piece by piece to try to describe or ascertain what young Miss Potter was feeling, I will release the letter in full and give you the unaltered, unblemished reading.

Please note that this is from a fourteen year old girl who knew she was going to die and took the time to write out an unfiltered truth so that we may know how horribly we as a society failed her.

Dear World,

I admit, I am writing this in a moment of weakness, where I am so full of dread that I see no alternative than to write this. If I am to die, this letter is going to be released to the public. Not just in Wizarding Britain but across the entire world, magical and mundane alike. It is my hope that I, Laurel Lilian Potter, am the cause of the collapse of Wizarding Britain, either by riots inside the country or lack of exports from across the world over their anger from my death. Unlikely, but I suppose that's why it's a wish.

Over the last three years, my life has been anguish. Or rather, it has been anguish since I was tossed on the doorsteps to my relatives in the middle of the night November Second after my parents were killed. I'm certain most magicals know what goblin debt slaves are treated like and I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, I was treated worse. Debt slaves are allowed two bathroom breaks, the bare minimum required water and food and a safe place to sleep at night.

I was offered none of those. I was often given a slice of bread and a half glass of water once a day. There were times I slept in the local park because I was either locked or thrown out. That lasted up until I received my first of several hundred Hogwarts letters. And I do mean several hundred, since my relatives ignored the first one, then the following two, then four and so on. I was given a strict schedule on when I could go to the bathroom and, if I couldn't go then or had to go either sooner or later, I wasn't allowed a bathroom break that day.

I was punished for any perceived crime or insult and my punishments could be a week without food or water or a beating so severe that I would be unable to do the untold number of chores that would be assigned to me daily, which brought further punishments.

I found myself sorted into Slytherin house my first night at Hogwarts, unaware of the horrors that awaited me during the coming month. I found myself in the Hospital Wing for more than half the month due to curses and hexes I was assaulted with. When I finally built up my courage to go to my head of house, Severus Snape, I found my jaw broken from how hard he backhanded me and cursed to an inch of my life. Were it not for the healers at Saint Mungos, I would be unable to write this letter due to my being dead. And his punishment? A week probation and a verbal warning. For attempted murder of a child. Aurors were not contacted and not a single teacher seemed bothered that he nearly killed a student. And these are the people you have making sure your children are safe.

After returning to school, I asked to be resorted and found myself in Ravenclaw. It was barely better. While I wound up in the hospital wing far less, less than five times the following month rather than half of the month, my personal effects were stolen to the point where I had only the clothes on my person. Had I been able to visit or even talk to my head of house, Filius Flitwick, I do not believe anything would have been done other than a slight docking of points and a gentle warning to those responsible that would teach no lesson.

Towards the end of the year, the Defense professor, Quirinus Quirrell forced me down into a chamber and showed me a mirror before telling me to retrieve a stone from it. It made no sense to me then but it does now. The mirror, which was the enchanted artifact The Mirror of Erised, was placed there by Dumbledore and further enchanted to hold the Philosopher's Stone from a malicious spirit that possessed Quirrell. Due to the protection my mother gave me, Quirrell, upon my failure in retrieving the stone, tried to physically assault me and found himself reduced to little more than ash.

During my second year, I was further ostracized and bullied by the remaining student body because I happened to be in an area where a cat was found petrified. That I was not near any of the following petrifications or deaths seemed to not bother anyone, I was still to blame. Towards the end of the year again, I was forced down into the Chamber of Secrets by a possessed young girl by the name of Ginny Weasleys. I'm certain you are all aware of her death. Her death caused the temporary revival of You-Know-Who, a halfblood by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. The petrifications and deaths were caused by a basilisk, who ended up biting me and I wound up killing with a lucky swing of Gryffindor's sword. Using the sword, though I was dying, I ran through Riddle and he died for the second time.

For months I was blamed for her death, the Daily Prophet proclaiming my guilt until I was arrested and forced to drink veritaserum to prove my innocence.

Everyone remembers Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban. My SWORN godfather, despite his attempt to kill Peter Pettigrew shortly after ensuring my safety. Almost no one knows about that, nor about his attempt to apprehend Pettigrew during my third year at Hogwarts. I watched him die at the end of the year to a hoard of dementors, which then tried to kill me. It was only by the timely rescue of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest that I wasn't just another body for the Unspeakables to study.

I'm certain that no one that reads this will understand the anguish I was in as I watched my godfather die in front of me. He was the only person I have ever met that showed me affection that seemed genuine and wholehearted.

My defense professor, Remus Lupin, was also killed later that year. Despite the safety precautions, he managed to escape from a locked and warded building and bite and infect a student that was in a locked room in a sealed dormitory that was only able to be entered with a verbal password. Due to that, the Ministry had him executed. Note the impossibility of that event. That student, Draco Malfoy, neither has scars from the event nor the werewolf curse. Only his word as a pureblood was enough for an innocent man to be executed.

This year is the Triwizard Tournament. Predictably, I was entered despite both not even considering the idea and being underaged. At the time I am writing this, it is just a few days from the final task of the tournament. I have had to take on a dragon, be forced into a date with a person I didn't even know - who unsuccessfully attempted to rape me later that evening - rescue a little girl from a cold lake in the middle of February and endure another year of taunting and bullying from all four Hogwarts houses.

I do not believe I will survive the final task. I have been fortunate to survive my years at Hogwarts thus far and I feel as if my luck had run its course. If I die, I lay the blame for my misfortune at the feet of Hogwarts staff. Albus Wulfic Dumbledore in particular, as he was supposed to be my magical guardian. He, along with the rest of the staff are supposed to ensure student safety regardless if said student is pureblood, halfblood or muggleborn, regardless of personal point of view and to ensure proper punishments are given. For all of the times I've been injured or hospitalized, I have seen aurors a single time. And that was when they came to arrest Rubeus Hagrid during my second year at Hogwarts so they could be seen as a competent government.

It's no wonder the Wizarding World is so incredibly corrupt and inept. It is no wonder Voldemort got so close to taking over. The only ones who were properly disciplined were the muggleborn and muggle-raised, so that they understand the difference between right and wrong. It's no wonder why the majority of muggleborns either leave the magical world for good, kill themselves or head to more tolerant countries where they have an opportunity to be taken seriously. Shame on you all, each and every one of you.

Even if nothing is done or resolved because of my letter, which will be copied as soon as I'm done writing it and sent across the world after my death, I know that magical worlds as intolerant and self-serving as the British community will die out in less than a hundred years. I won't bother saying how, you all deserve to stew in the uncertainty.

By the time this letter is released, my will will have been read and everything I or my families own will have gone to those that deserve a chance, much like the one I was never given.

Fuck you all,

Laurel Lilian Potter

Head of House Potter

Head of House Black

Defender of Hogwarts

~Z~

The first thing Laurel noticed was the fact that she was uncomfortable. The second thing she noticed was that she was laying on the ground.

Pushing herself up, she looked around for a moment, staring out at a vast white expanse that seemed to go on forever. Of course, the third thing she noticed was that she was naked. Considering the last thing she remembered was being surrounded by roughly a dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, she was more than a little worried. Thankfully, as soon as she wished she had some clothes, a set of pale blue robes appeared on the ground in front of her.

"Thank you," she said automatically. She wished she had her wand with her too, to make sure the robes weren't cursed, but they did just appear in front of her and there was no one around that she could see. Even as she pulled them on, she wished she had undergarments to go with the robe. Unfortunately, none appeared. It wasn't terrible, honestly. She had gone without often enough during her last few weeks in Ravenclaw, her housemates destroying or stealing her clothes. At least she actually had something to wear now.

Once dressed, she started to walk around the white expanse. She wasn't sure how long she walked, it could've been minutes or hours but she didn't feel any more tired than she did when she started.

After Merlin knew how long, she finally spotted something off in the distance and made her way to it. Something with color, that wasn't the white expanse.

When she made it about halfway to the thing she had spotted, she noticed it wasn't one but two distinct things in the distance. And they were making their way towards her as fast as she was them. Faster even.

Finally noticing who it was, or perhaps it was just the hope in her heart, but she started running towards the two figures. It was the hair on the shorter of the two that she recognized, hair as red as blood she had only seen in a picture or from a sole tormenting memory that she first remembered with assistance from a dementor.

"LAUREL!" She heard the shorter of the two, her mother, shout out and she redoubled her pace. She collided with the familiar woman hard, toppling the two of them to the ground. She felt a pair of arms wrap around her and hug tight, quickly returning the comforting action.

"Laurel, my sweet, innocent flower." Lily cooed into her ear, hand rubbing her back and fingers threading through her hair. Laurel could feel the emotion in her voice as her mother soothed her.

She flinched a little when she felt a pair of hands grab her and pull both of them up off the ground. Quickly followed by a pair of strong arms wrapping around both her and her mother. It took her a moment to realize that her father had been there too.

Her head pulled up after several minutes of the comforting hug and soothing noises. She saw tears on her parents faces but not a drop spilled from her eyes. Ignoring that, her gaze flicked between the two. "Mom, dad." She spoke softly, her voice hoarse. "You're here." Her throat felt like it was going to close up and her eyes hurt, "I'm so sorry."

She grabbed her robes so tight that it felt like she was going to break her hands, "I'm sorry I couldn't be better, sorry I couldn't survive. I'm so sorry that I just gave up."

And she had given up. Ten years with the Dursleys had torn her down and Hogwarts had given her hope only to snatch it away and send her tumbling down lower than ever. Each year just seemed to get worse and worse. A possessed teacher, a thousand year old basilisk, hundreds of dementors and then a contest where she had to get past a dragon, rescue a hostage from a freezing lake and get past a monster-infested maze to grab the stupid enchanted goblet that entered her into the contest in the first place.

Only the goblet was a portkey and she wound up in a graveyard where she was stunned and her blood used in a ritual to bring back the same bastard that had killed her parents. She had fought for her survival at first but her mind raced a mile a minute as she fought desperately to stay alive. She found she had nothing to live for, absolutely nothing. No friends, no family, hated by everyone she had been around with the sole exception of her parents who had died for her.

She dropped her wand, she gave up and no amount of taunting from the Death Eaters or Voldemort himself could get her to pick it up again. She remained silent and unmoving until she was killed, even as various dark curses tore at her body and made her feel agony she could barely imagine feeling again.

While her mom started crying again, hugging her tighter than before, her dad pulled them close and held them at his side. "Laurel ," he said softly, grabbing her attention. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You never had to be better dear, you just had to be you." She saw his own tears as she looked at him. "I'm sorry we were never there for you. We wanted to be, more than anything, but we thought you would be protected if things went wrong. You were supposed to be protected but-..."

"Dumbledore fucking lied!" Lily shouted out. Laurel flinched and Lily quieted down when she next spoke, "Sirius was spelled into going after Peter. Dumbledore knew who the real secret keeper was and let Sirius rot in jail so he could send you off to those horrid relatives of mine." She ran her fingers through her hair soothingly.

Laurel nodded softly. She had figured something was going on but what wasn't obvious. She couldn't have such bad luck so consistently without something going on. No one could, right? Despite an amazing number of thoughts running through her head, Laurel didn't cry. She couldn't. The Dursleys had beaten that out of her. She had been forced to 'dry up', so to speak.