Blackout: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: Harry Potter is said to be the poster boy for the light, but what happens when the lights go out?

Author's Note: So, here we have a random, but, hopefully, fun idea that's sort of inspired by several other fandoms, themes and ideas just brought together for the hell of it, so, really, all that's left to say is the usual.

If you don't like it, don't read it.

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my friends, fans and fellow Darksiders: my recommended reads are Harry Potter and the Revival of Soul Magic, Harry Potter: Birth of Technomancy and The Court of Shadows by AlphaPheonix, When the Thunder Breaks by WeLonelyOldSouls, The Downward Spiral Saga – Harry Potter and the Homecoming, Harry Potter and Salazar's Legacy, Harry Potter and the Year of Broken Chains, Harry Potter and the Return of the Lost, Harry Potter and the Dirge of Hope and Harry Potter and the End of War – by BolshevikMuppet99, Damaged Raven and Dark Lord Potter by JustBored21, Harry Is A Dragon, And That's Okay by Saphroneth, Harry Potter and The Ashes of Chaos by ACI100, The Dark Lord Peverell-Slytherin by Ares Peverell-Slytherin, Yield to the Darkness and Just A Touch of Kleptomania by Quatermass, Dark Lord Potter by loverofeevee and Path to Power by sirius009

Key Pairing: Harry/Harem (Harry/Lavender/Daphne/Tonks/Luna/Astoria)

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: A Very Different Harry

Albus Dumbledore was a man who liked to think he knew how things should be, most of the time because he made them that way.

Light was light, Dark was dark, Death Eaters were lost souls who only needed the kindness of others to be given a second chance for greatness, the world had to be the way it was for the Greater Good and, of course, he was the guiding light behind the world whom everyone looked up to.

Having vanquished one dark leader and then been the bane, and only thing feared by another, Albus was given the mantle of Light Lord for a reason, not to mention his other titles of Chief Warlock, Grand Sorcerer and Supreme Mugwump. He was the head of the world's greatest defence against the ever-constant threat of the Dark and he always had a plan to take on any obstacles that might threaten the future of his world.

So, when he was told of a prophecy with a child born with the power to vanquish the Dark, he was intrigued.

When he steered the ones identified by the prophecy to go into hiding, he saw it as being for the best, if not for the Greater Good.

When they died, sacrificing themselves so the world could witness the end of the Dark Lord Voldemort at the hands of the Chosen One, Albus saw that as being for the Greater Good and, despite the arguments of others, he made sure the Chosen One was safe and somewhere he couldn't be corrupted into believing things he didn't need to know about.

And, ten years later, when Albus knew the day was coming for the letters to be sent out, he knew his Chosen One would be ready.

The world would endure because the Chosen One was there to see it still turned.

And if he died in the process?

Well, then that was for the Greater Good too…

Or so Albus thought, until he got the bad news from his deputy.

Blackout

"Albus!"

As soon as the door to his office opened, admitting a white-faced Minerva McGonagall who seemed to be somewhere between angry and beyond terrified, Albus was instantly on high alert, "Minerva, what is it? Is everything all right? You look like…well, hopefully our resident spectres will forgive the crude remark, but you look like you've seen a ghost."

"It…it's Harry…Harry P-P-P-Potter!" gasped Minerva, earning a shocked look from Albus as he sat bolt upright in his throne, his grandfatherly persona fading away, even as he watched while Minerva dropped the letter onto Albus' desk, "He says…I don't…well…just read it."

Lowering his eyes to the parchment, Albus' eyes scanned the information there, but, as he did so, his eyes only grew wider as he read the message written on the parchment.

Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,

My name is Harry Potter and I wish to be as blunt as I can when I tell you this.

I have NO desire to go anywhere near your slaughterhouse and walk to my death just because your blue-eyed shepherd gets all twinkly and decides it's about time he step out of the shadows and let me come home to the world I belong.

As far as I am concerned, the only reason I would go anywhere near that madhouse is if the 'noble' Albus Dumbledore comes to me himself, gets down on his wrinkly, skeletal knees and BEGS me to attend, because that's the only good thought I would have as I endure the boredom of your lessons, your hypocrisy in calling me something I am not and NEVER want to be.

And, just in case you hand this notice to that whiskered wanker, let me be as blunt as I can to him too:

Hello Mr Dumbledore, I imagine you're as shocked as your sheep is about how little I care about what you and your world want with me.

Well, here's the reason why.

YOU MURDERED MY PARENTS, YOU SENILE OLD BASTARD!

Why would I EVER come anywhere near you, unless it is to take back the lives you stole by making you BEG for death?

So, you want me?

Come find me at the enclosed address and, as I said to your Pinocchio, BEG me, Geppetto!

MAYBE then, I'll consider it enough to come and entertain you, and myself too, long enough to watch you squirm.

Otherwise, fuck you very much and leave me alone.

Oh, and if any more owls come looking for answers, just a warning:

I know some VERY hungry dogs!

Yours NEVER,

Harry James Potter

With trembling fingers, wide, almost-tearful eyes and an air of absolute disbelief that seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, Albus swallowed hard as he looked up to Minerva before he asked, "Is…is this genuinely from…from Harry, Minerva?"

"You think I didn't think to test the signature and the origin?" asked Minerva, handing Albus a second piece of parchment, which he looked at with wider-than-wide eyes as he read the address on the letter.

Mr H Potter

Room 1

Solitary Confinement,

St Michael's Maximum-Security Institute for Young Offenders

Cardiff

Wales

"What…what is a…a Maximum-Security Institute?" asked Albus, looking up in fear and dread as he looked to Minerva.

"From…from what I…I heard from…from Charity," replied Minerva, her voice trembling with the same fear felt by Dumbledore, but for a completely-different reason, as she explained, "It…it is a…a place that…that Muggles use as…as a place similar to…to Azkaban! But…but from what…what she tells me, they…they encourage young…young people to be sent here too!"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," replied Minerva, her eyes filled with a mixture of tears of pain and dread, as well as a glimmer of anger that was aimed at Albus, simply because she knew, with both the address and the way the boy had replied to the invitation, that she had been right all those years ago.

Those Muggles were the worst sort of Muggles imaginable and this proved it.

Albus, on the other hand, sighed softly before he looked up to Minerva as he told her, "No matter, if Harry wishes a more-personal invitation, I will be only too happy to indulge him, Minerva. But while I am gone, would you make sure nobody can find out about this? As far as anyone else is concerned, their saviour is happy and healthy living in a safe place provided by me."

Before Minerva could ask what in heaven's name the old man was thinking of doing, Albus grabbed Fawkes' tail feathers and flashed out of the office, leaving Minerva both alarmed and in a state of hope, as well as dread, at the thought of exactly who, or what, might be waiting for Mr Delirious on the other end of the phoenix.

Whatever it was, Minerva also knew this much.

She really needed to have a word with Severus.

Blackout

"I must admit to some confusion upon receiving your request, Mr Dumbledore; in all the years he's been incarcerated here, 317 has never had so much as a family member come to visit him."

"317?" asked Dumbledore, the significance of the number – 31st day of the 7th month, aka when the seventh month dies – not lost on him, even as he accompanied the head of staff at the Institute where Fawkes had deposited him. All it had taken was a strong Compulsion Charm and his usual grandfatherly charm and he had been admitted in to see Harry.

However, the counsellor whom was in charge of said boy's case didn't seem fazed by the charm – either the magical one or the air of one whom you could trust with your life – as she explained in a stern tone, "When they are as high-risk as this one, we do the world a favour and take out the need for names; instead, they are given a number best associated with the case. In his case, 317 was chosen because it was the only thing we found with him: his date of birth. As for his name…well, it is one he accepts, naturally, but he's been in and out of places like this so many times before that…well, you'll see for yourself."

As they stopped outside an ordinary-looking, but reinforced door, Dumbledore watched as the woman punched in a series of numbers on an unusual Muggle device that reminded him of what they called a cal-queue-later or something like that, before the door buzzed, admitting both the stern woman and Albus himself into the room beyond.

"317, you have a visitor."

"Well, I hardly thought he was selling vacuum cleaners, door-to-door, Agatha," drawled an icy-cold voice from beyond the door, the sound of which made Albus' blood run cold as he stepped into the room, alongside the woman named Agatha, who didn't show any reactions to the jibe.

Instead, she listened as Albus addressed the speaker, though not without sensing a hint of déjà vu in the case of the old man as he remarked, "How do you do, Harry? I am Albus Dumbledore and I have come in response to your…requested meeting."

"Good," scoffed the boy in the room, earning a shudder from Albus as he saw nothing, but a lone figure standing by a mirrored wall, which didn't seem all that impressive. However, with the mirrored surface where it was, Albus could see exactly who and what he was dealing with, though he couldn't help but shiver as he took in the sight of the Magical World's saviour.

Instead of someone who could have been described as a double of James Potter, what he got was a pale-skinned youth with very short-trimmed hair, which left nothing, but peppered black across his head instead of wild, long, shaggy hair. His facial structure was gaunt and, dare he think it, sickly-looking with a series of what looked like pockmarked spots here and there. However, the most-alarming feature about the boy's face was the lightning-bolt scar.

And Albus wasn't talking about the one that was known by every witch and wizard in Britain, and was also visible on his forehead.

No, he meant the other lightning-bolt scar, which looked like it had been cut across his right eye, the middle of the bolt cutting almost-cleanly, but painfully through his eyelids while both points of the bolt stuck out above and below in perfect formation. He also had a second scar, which looked like it had been branded into his skin, just visible above his collarbone, which was shaped like a wolf's head, though the meaning was lost on Albus.

As well as his frightening facial features, the boy wore a single, one-piece outfit in pale-white with flecks and stains of red that made Albus' blood run cold, as well as a large, black bracelet of some sort on his right hand, which beeped steadily, even as the boy held his hands behind his back.

He was barefooted with short-cut nails and, curiously, what looked like a streak of black along his right ankle, though, before Albus could ask what had happened to this young man, he found himself returning to the boy's face as his charge addressed him again.

"So, are you going to get down on your knees willingly or do I have to break your kneecaps and make you kneel, you murdering old cunt?"

"There's no need to be rude," argued Agatha, earning a snort from 317, aka Harry James Potter, as he turned to the woman.

"Aggie, you can go now. I think you've got another ass that needs kissing, so do me a favour and piss off before I make you! Which reminds me: how's that daughter of yours? Still breathing?"

For the first time since meeting the woman and working his own magic on her, Albus saw her stern demeanour collapse as she flinched and paled in alarm before she turned and, muttering something about there being a panic button – whatever that was, as Albus thought – on the wall next to the door, she left much quicker than she'd entered.

As for Harry, he leaned against the mirrored wall behind him before he folded his arms, smiling smugly as he asked, "Well, old bastard: what's it to be? The easy way or the fun way? Either way, you're only going to get me in your little game of pissing up the wall with the rest of your fucked-up society by getting down on your knees and begging, so feel free to take as long as you need to decide."

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Albus, rounding on Harry as he told the boy, "But, clearly, this is for your own good."

With that, he launched a red flash at Harry…

Before the flash hit him, however, Harry's eyes – which reminded Albus of the colour of the Killing Curse more than the curse itself could – lit up and, to Dumbledore's alarm, what could only be described as an aura of black lightning enveloped Harry, making the lights in the room flicker while, behind Albus, the door he'd entered suddenly locked, leaving Albus alone in the room with Harry, who smiled with a predatory gleam before he rose up, standing tall, proud and malefic before Dumbledore as he shook his head.

"Now, now, Albus: forgive me, old twat, but did you honestly expect me to be as naïve and powerless as the rest of these Muggles? I knew you were pathetically-stupid-gone-senile, but I never took you for the suicidal type as well."

"Harry…what…what happened to…" Albus began, but before he could finish, his eyes widened with horror, disbelief and no small amount of awed terror when he saw Harry's emerald-green eyes turn black, which then crackled and sparked like lightning, just as his body did the same, filling the room with more magic than ever.

"Last chance, Albus: beg me to come to school! If not, then I guess you'll be seeing my folks long before I do, so tell them I say hi."

Albus shakily lifted the Elder Wand, earning a scoff from Harry, "Sorry, but is that piece of wood supposed to frighten me?"

Before Dumbledore could reply, Harry lifted his own hand, which caused a bolt of black lightning to fly through the air and collide with Dumbledore's wand, sending waves of numbing, but also painful shocks through Dumbledore's hand.

As soon as he dropped the wand, however, even Dumbledore was shocked when a second, much-louder crack of thunder filled the air, followed by a shriek that made even Fawkes' most-alarming cries seem tame by comparison.

As Dumbledore watched, the Elder Wand snapped right down the middle before, to the shock of both magic users, what looked like a pair of black wings rose from the middle of the wand, accompanied by a sleek, beautiful-looking body, a beaked head and a pair of greener-than-green eyes, which glared at Harry, not with hatred or challenge, but submission.

"What…what is this magic?" asked Dumbledore.

Rather than answer, however, Harry lowered his hands before, to Albus' alarm, his electrified body became pale, calm and surprisingly-normal looking, save for his scars and his pale, short-haired looks.

He also seemed to be smiling, even as the black-feathered bird – which looked like a phoenix, but was not like any phoenix Dumbledore had seen before – flew over to him before it perched itself on Harry's shoulder, where it nipped his ear and even nuzzled the scar on his face.

Harry, meanwhile, petted the bird once before, looking to Albus, he told him, "All right, I've changed my mind."

"W-W-W-What?"

"I'm coming to Hogwarts, old fucker," drawled Harry, stepping past Albus before, to the old man's shock, he laid his hand on the door, which caused a bolt of lightning to pass through the door and into the panel outside, unlocking the door for Albus, even as Harry added, "But, just so you know, I'm not coming to be a hero, or your little sheep…well, maybe a baa-baa, black sheep…baa! But definitely not one of your little yes-men."

"Then, if I may ask, why are you coming?" asked Albus, earning a snort from Harry as he looked to the old man with a mocking sneer.

"Because it's the only place that I can go where I might find someone who'll stand up to me when I threaten to kill them…oh, and because I'm bored, but you should be pleased, Albus Dumbledore."

"Why is that?"

"Well," drawled Harry, a note of raw mockery and disrespect in his voice as he shrugged ruefully before, reaching up to pet his new companion, he smiled wolfishly at Dumbledore, even as sparks of black lightning danced through his eyes as he went on.

"Look at it this way; now you don't have to beg me, you've given me a reason to postpone ripping your head off and sticking it up your own ass for what you did to my parents. So, be happy, old man; you've got one more day alive on Planet Earth."

Yikes, talk about the worst-possible beginning for Albus' plans to try and control the Boy-Who-Lived, but I'm sure we're all wondering exactly how Harry became nothing more than a number in a mirrored cell?

Also, where and how is it he has power equivalent to that of the Gods of Thunder from every pantheon put together and then some?

And what could have convinced him to change his mind so easily? Is it something to do with the bird he now has, or is it just a case of him gone off the deep end, so he changes his mind faster than the weather changes?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Albus needs answers and, in order to get them, he needs someone who won't be intimidated by Harry…but who would be insane enough to go straight into the den of a thunder dragon who has been tickled every day for nearly ten years, just to appease Albus Dumbledore's one-sided curiosity?

Please Read and Review

AN: Harry's new companion

Also, weird thought here, but when writing up the idea of the bird that emerged from the Elder Wand, my first thought was a black version of the Phoenix Force's phoenix form from the X-Men Animated Series.

Scary? Maybe; weird? Definitely; do I care? Nope.

Oh, and just so you know, this bird isn't a phoenix, per se, but keep reading to find out what I have planned…or some of you might even figure it out, in which case, enjoy.