FicWad

Corruption

Forgotten

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with either of these popular books/movies/TV show.

A/N: My first crossover fic- Please review with any constructive criticism.

Summary: When Harry is left in the dark alleys of Jump City in the middle of winter, the most surprising, and dangerous consequences occur. [HarryPotterTeenTitansXover]

Vernon bustled through the snow blanketed streets, slipping once of the icy sidewalk. Nodding hurriedly to the cheerful man who had had the audacity to think he needed a hand up, he twirled his mustache nervously and briskly walked across the street. Turning up his coat collar, Vernon Dursely shivered indecently and reaching his car, heaved his overweight body into the driver's seat, collapsing with a short-lived sigh.

Rubbing his fat-dripping fingers together to generate warmth, the pudgy man dumped his briefcase in the empty seat next to him. Unsettlingly, the briefcase teetered on the edge and then tipped over, cascading papers. They fluttered to the ground, flitting away under the seat. Cursing, Vernon ducked under the passenger seat and gathered all his papers into a raggedy pile, files slipping this way and that.

Grumbling to himself, Vernon started the car and drove home, muttering about stupid foreign trafficking laws, business trips, and the goddamn blasted cheerfulness of Jump City overall. Frustrated, Vernon served off the highway and took to the back roads, studiously ignoring any wrongdoings that were undoubtedly taking place under the cover of darkness, where even Jump's finest feared to tread.

Suddenly, uncontrollably, Vernon slowed down, passing a certain alleyway. It was nothing special, as dirty as any other, with nothing glamorous enough like a trashcan to attract strays of the animal or human variety. In fact, it was completely empty, bar a few sopping cardboard boxes. Slowing down even more, Vernon strained his eyes, searching...searching, his eyes zeroed in on it- a small light blue baby blanket. It lay in a muddled pile off to the side. It reeked of seclusion, as if the neighborhood dog had already come and sniffed at it disinterestedly, or the toddler next-door had come over, poked it and walked away bored.

As Vernon watched, the blanket twitched, ever so slightly, but Vernon's intense glare caught it and he slammed the accelerator, speeding away from the alley and back onto the highway, headlights cutting through the grimness of downtown.

Reaching the cheerfully tedious lights of the highway again, Vernon sighed. "Not yet," he whispered, "But soon."

Finally, Dursely reached the sanctuary of his hotel. Handing his car off to the valet, he swept into the lobby and through the elevator. Standing there, watching the small lights ding and move up in numbers one at a time, he suddenly grinned like a small child and jingled the change in his pocket happily.

He felt no remorse.

The elevator chimed and swooshed open elegantly, letting Vernon dance out of the small compartment and into the carpeted halls. Humming, the portly man treaded through the plush carpeting and fumbled in his pocket for the keys to his wooden hotel door. Shifting through his pockets, he pulled out lint, an identification card, his wallet, a map, but no key. Disgruntled, Vernon rapped smartly on the door.

His wife, Petunia, opened the door slowly, peeking behind his large form as if to make sure that he wasn't hiding anything. Seeing nothing, she smiled warmly and eased the door open further, letting the bright light of the hotel room flood the dim hallway.

"Come in, luv." she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him heavily.

Chortling into the kiss, Vernon swung his thin wife around and striding past her, picked up his five-year-old son, smoothing his pudgy blonde hair back into an eerie representation of himself. Setting his heavy son down, he turned back towards the table off to the side laden with food.

"Let's eat." He gestured towards the table, gracefully seating Petunia next to him and his son across from him. "Everything looks delicious." he said.

None of them mentioned the horrible deed done earlier that morning.
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Snow crunched under his feet as Slade walked down the street, hands in his pockets. He was a hard man. Hard and cruel, worn by many evil winters, Slade was a man of many faults. He stole and plundered and murdered without cause, but at the moment, he was no longer Slade, just a man, trying to get through the cold.

Slade tightened his trench coat around his body armor, his black hair whipping in his face. It wouldn't do for anyone to see him in his costume without his mask. Treaded boots left muddy footprints in the grimy sludge that splashed up whenever he stepped down. Stoically, he turned left, veering around a couple of homeless men standing around a flickering flame.

Nearing an alleyway, he paused mid-step hearing a low cry. Intrigued, he turned into the alley. It was devoid of all life, except...kneeling down, Slade gripped a small light blanket by the edges and lifted it up with two fingers.

"Well, well, well..." Slade murmured, smirking, "What is this?"

Holding steadfastly to the other end of the blanket was a young boy. His lower lip was quivering as if holding back the welling tears that were forming in his forest green eyes, and he looked as if he was left here to slowly freeze to death in the icy bitterness of Jump's nights. Indeed, his fingers and ears were already tinged with blue; soon they'd turn a deathly white and rot, resulting in a rather painful and slow death for the small child.

"How old are you?" he asked the small boy gruffly.

The young boy whimpered, clutching the blanket as if it were his only lifeline. Then, eyes huge, he shyly held up five fingers, holding up one at a time until his little palm was completely open. Slade took the small hand and rubbed it furiously trying to restore circulation to the dying limb and then gently curled the fingers into a fist and wrapped the boy up in his blue blanket so that only a tuft of flyaway black hair could be seen.

Tucking the blanket around him securely, Slade stood and walked away from the boy. He had been left here to die, so who was he to interfere with another's wishes?
Inside the warm cocoon of the blanket, the little boy scrunched up his button nose, completely disregarding the fact that the nice man had yet to take him home.

The nice man had made him warm and he was...familiar. He bit his lip, thinking hard before drudging up an old memory from the dredges of his infancy.

"Siri!" he cried, throwing off the blanket and lifting his arms towards the man.

Slade turned and raised an eyebrow. The little boy stood on two wobbly legs and flew towards him, arms outstretched. Frowning, Slade reached out and stopped the boy before he latched onto his pant leg.

Green eyes looked up at him with unmatched adoration. "You came to rescue me!" he cried happily, "I love you Siri!"

Slade snorted and with a swift movement knocked the boy to the snow clad ground.

Then he turned to leave, letting the boy sit there in the snow shaking. "Don't leave," now the boy's voice took on a teetering, almost desperate quality, and suddenly, he was attached to Slade's leg, wrapped around as securely as any octopus, "Don't leave me again. I was so sad when you left the first time. I...I..." warm tears seeped into Slade's leg, contrasting with the cold body wrapped around it "I promise I'll be good and...and-"

Slade sighed, cutting him off and lifted the boy into his arms. "What's your name?" he asked resignedly.

"Siri." he said stubbornly.

"No, your name." Slade snapped.

"Siri?" he said quizzically, tilting his head worriedly, "Are we going home?"

"Hmm..." Slade turned and walked back into the street now holding a sleepy-eyed tousled-haired young boy wrapped securely in his trench coat. "Well I do need another apprentice; isn't that right, Siri?"

"Harry." the boy answered promptly.

Yes, this would be very interesting indeed.

To Be Continued...