A/N – I Do Not Own Harry Potter, Batman, or any related characters.
This is a One-Shot, with no plans to continue.
Poison Ivy sat, handcuffed to a chair in an interview room, smirking. She had been in Arkham Asylum for three months now, waiting for her chance to escape, and return to her beautiful plants.
Now, however, it was time for her weekly psychiatric appointment, which meant a break from the monotony of cell life.
The door opened, and Ivy was even happier. It seemed that this was a new doctor, and a man. She'd enthrall him easily.
She took in the doctors appearance as he sat down in front of her. Long, black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was tall, fairly thin, and muscular. Black rimmed glasses hid brilliant green eyes, almost the same shade as her own. But what drew the super-criminal's attention was the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He looked familiar, almost like...
Ivy shook her head. 'Focus on the task at hand,' she told herself.
"Hello Doctor," Ivy said seductively, while she released her love pheromone.
To her surprise, the doctor chuckled. "That won't work on me Ms. Isley, or should that be Mrs. Potter?"
Ivy's eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in anger. "Where did you learn that name?" she asked coolly.
The doctor just smiled. "Answer the question. Were you formerly Mrs. Lily Potter, husband to James Potter, and mother to Harry Potter?"
Ivy clenched her jaw, as she fought back tears. "What is it to you?"
The doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll take that as a yes. I assume you created the identity of Pamela Isley after James was killed?"
"I am no longer Lily Potter," Ivy snarled. "She died with her family." She failed to notice the doctor's hands clench.
"Then I only have one question. Answer it, and I'll never bring them up again. Why? Why did you abandon your son and allow you sister to raise him?"
Ivy sat up straighter and glared at the doctor. "My son died, on Halloween, twenty-two years ago."
"No he didn't," the doctor whispered. He looked Ivy in the eye. "He spent the first ten years after that night locked in a cupboard. When he went to Hogwarts at the age of eleven, he was sorted into Gryffindor house."
"Impossible," Ivy faltered. "No one could have survived the killing curse."
"You did," the doctor said, standing up. He took off his I.D. Badge and set it in front of Ivy. "So did I."
Then, without another word, the doctor turned and left the room.
Ivy looked down at the badge and read the name printed. 'Dr. Harry J. Potter, Psychologist.'
She then began to cry.
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