Just a quick note before I begin, I changed a few details to fit the narrative I want to tell in this particular story. So, if you see anything that doesn't line up with canon, that's why. Granted, for ninety percent of you, that much should be obvious because this is fan fiction.

Stranger from the Other Side:

A violent storm kicked up high over the South China Sea. Huge gusts of winds, angry sounding thunder claps, dangerous blasts of lightning, and just pure darkness engulfed the area. The waves whipped across the water, making any journey extremely treacherous.

Those who sailed for a living weathered numerous storms in the past. They knew the storm which raged tonight was no ordinary storm. It was far more violent, far more unforgiving, and far more dangerous. The storm built for the better part of the last couple of days and reached a fever pitch this particular evening.

A cyclone appeared over an uncharted island off of the South China Sea. No one had been around for miles on this island. The mist rose above the island thus blocking the view of the island for anyone who just happened to have the misfortune of being on said island.

The cyclone cloud launched a figure like a bottle unleashing a cork. The figure from the sky flew down to the ground and impacted the dirt, just coming short of hitting a very dangerous area of the island. The mist blocked what dropped from the sky from view, at least for the first couple of minutes after it dropped.

The stranger pulled himself to a standing position. Legs almost came out from underneath him like they were made of jelly. He reached onto the side of the tree and stopped, assessed his surroundings. A normally unruly hair of dark hair got knocked around. Green eyes widened into the distance and managed to just barely make out the surroundings through the other side of the mists.

He dressed in tattered clothes, ripped apart from landing on the ground. A faint, but still visible tattoo of a circle encased in a triangle with a pair of jagged lines being drawn down the circle stood prominently on his chest. The figure stood up, tall, if not a bit shaky. He was a well-built young man, despite the state of disorientation.

His name came to him after he managed to regain his composure. Harry Potter stood firmly on the ground on the mysterious island. The throbbing in his skull finally started to cease.

Five years Harry obsessed over that stupid curtain. The obsession became even stronger as the years came face.

Harry always had a strange affinity for all things death, for some reason. He had been the only person in living memory to survive the Killing Curse. He had a combination of Basilisk Venom and Phoenix tears coursing through his blood stream. He survived the Killing Curse again and claimed the Deathly Hallows.

Seventeen confirmed assassination attempts on his person later, Harry survived, still in possession with the three most sought out magical objects in the history of the world. The fact he was the only one who had the potential to use them for long without falling victim to their curse didn't stop greedy witches and wizards from trying to grab them.

He sought the veil, studied it, and now Harry found himself in a brand new place, almost entirely by accident.

'Am I dead?'

The first question any rational person would ask when in a weird situation like he was now. Yet, it was a question Harry Potter asked himself far more times than he cared to count. Was he dead? He didn't think so.

Death flirted with Harry so many times, he thought they were about ready to go steady, as weird as it might sound.

'Okay, I'm not dead. If I'm not dead, then where am I? When am I?'

Two questions anyone who had been through the trials Harry had would ask. He had to ask it. All went back to what he learned about the veil.

'No one has been quite able to pierce the mysteries of the Veil of Death. Most who pass through it, end up being brought to their final reward or final torment. A few may end up elsewhere, but no confirmed evidence exists of anyone ever returning back from a trip to the veil.'

No one could survive the Killing Curse. No one could fight a Basilisk at the age of twelve. No one could create a fully fledged Patronus and run off a hundred Dementors at the age of thirteen. No one could hold their own in a tournament made for overage magic users at the age of fourteen. No one could survive multiple battles with the most dangerous Dark Lord of the 20th century. And no one, could unite the Deathly Hallows without severe madness.

Well, Harry couldn't be clear of the final point, he was no expert on mental health, his own especially. Living for ten years in a cupboard underneath the stairs may have left Harry with just a few issues.

After the latest little trip through the veil, Harry wasn't certain about his ability to return. Then again, he couldn't be certain of his ability to return anyway, without knowing where here was.

He most certainly could not disapparate off of the island without having a good idea where it was and the path he needed to do to get back home, if at all possible. A quick look around told Harry he had been surrounded on all sides by water. He was on an island, somewhere.

Geography was not a subject which was taught at Hogwarts.

Harry stood in the middle of the island. He felt about a week's worth of growth on the side of his face. It had been a lot longer between stepping through the veil and landing here than he thought.

"I think the storm just about subsided….good we can begin. We can't be behind schedule."

Voices on the island meant Harry Potter was not alone. He noticed there were some other people on the island, but they didn't notice him, at least not yet.

'Better not test my luck.'

Harry needed to find shelter, but where. There was a small wooded area off to the side where he landed and also the source of the voice he heard. He listened to them speaking in low whispers.

The former Boy-Who-Lived stopped short and noticed something submerged half-buried in the ground, just waiting for some unsuspecting person to step onto.

'Land mine,' Harry thought.

One subtle sweep of the island told Harry it was littered by landmines and traps. Whoever stepped onto this island stepped into a walking deathtrap, and they didn't want the people on the island to leave alive. Harry had to watch his step.

"Make sure our insurance policy is secure."

Harry hazarded a guess they weren't the friendly type, the other people on this island. Just a hunch, the type of people he should be avoiding at all costs.

Like it had so many times before, curiosity had gotten the better of Harry Potter. There were so many times where he didn't have to stick his nose into other people's business, along with the many times where he kind of had to because it would be the only way he would learn things.

'Of course, I'm going to follow these two.'

Harry could either find a way out of the death trap of the island or follow two men who obviously found a way onto the island on their own accord. They might, unwittingly, clue him on a way to get off of the island.

'It wouldn't be me if I didn't follow them.'

Harry stood, behind the cover of crush to the two men who stopped. A group of about six or seven more men, who had been armed, moved around.

'Really well trained, and organized. And that makes them dangerous as well. Going to have to play it carefully, Potter.'

Careful normally had not been Harry's middle name. He had to maneuver around the traps. His danger sense heightened after an entire life time of peaking over his shoulder.

"Fyres is being a real pain, isn't he? Wonder what has his knickers in a twist."

"Who cares? As long as he pays us well, I don't really care what he's up to."

Okay, so now Harry was dealing with the mercenary types who were only out for the money. He could respect them for their principles, money was of course the solution to all of life's problems. And the cause of all of life's problems as well to be fair.

"Make sure no one is lurking around."

"Who would be lurking around on this island? No one is going to take a vacation on it. It's out in the middle of nowhere."

"Hey, I'm just telling you what the boss says. You want to take things up with the boss, fine, take it up with him. But, don't be surprised if you have to deal with the boss's new friend."

"The weirdo in the mask?"

"Yeah, him. Guy looks like he can take you out in one swift move. But, he's sticking to Fyres like glue to a toilet seat."

"What? Does that….."

"Never mind, the point is, he never leaves his side. Which means he's being paid the big bucks. More than us….just keep a look out and make sure no one is coming around."

"I don't suppose someone is just going to drop from the sky and land on this island. This place is purgatory, the only way off is the way we got on here."

Hello, they had a way off of the island. Harry intended to listen into the conversation closely. A rather frazzled looking gentlemen rushed and nearly tripped one of the land mines. His buddy held up a hand to stop him.

"Whoa, slow down here, mate, you trip one of those things, and you blow your foot up."

"Yeah, I can't even take a piss in the woods without running into some kind of trap."

"Just watch your step, or you'll lose more than your head."

The man looked around and Harry thought he was looking a bit too close for comfortable. Harry closed his eyes. He could will himself invisible thanks to bonding to the cloak, occasionally. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, and despite constant study, Harry still couldn't peace together the how or the whys about how the cloak worked.

"There's guy who dropped on the island. He practically fell out of the sky."

Harry froze instantly. He took careful inventory of the paths around him. One way lead him through a very dangerous area and the other way lead him into a camp which could have had more of these mercenaries.

"Damn it, it will be our heads if someone came onto the island."

"Who could be dumb enough to come here willingly?"

"Did you see any ships wrecked in the area? Are you sure you haven't been drinking? Imagining things?"

Harry took a half of a step forward, and ended up almost stepping on a snake. It gave a hiss.

"Quiet."

The snake looked at Harry strangely and backed off. Well, Harry still had that particular gift at least.

The men were coming right here. Harry looked towards the land mine which was right between him and the men. It was time for drastic action.

Harry raised his hand and detonated the land mind to blow up the ground. A searing pain shot through Harry's arm when he tried to channel magic through it. The bolt of light caught the land mind and blew up the ground. Harry's quick reflexes through himself out of the way of flying shrapnel and rock.

He did have several cracked bones in his arm in an attempt to launch the magic. Pain beyond anything Harry ever experienced in his life shot through his body.

How did he break his arm by performing magic? Harry didn't bother, he had two legs, which picked up the pace and sprinted. The bullets soured through the air. Harry closed his eyes.

On the bright side, the shield protected him from bullets. On the negative side, the shield also burned Harry's skin and caused agony to spread through his nerve endings. On the other bright side, it took his mind away from the broken bones.

'There's something on this island, to make performing magic a far more difficult chore than it really was. Think, Potter, it has to be a rune or some kind of altar, or something blocking you. It could be anywhere, this is a big island.'

The shield flickered away just half of a second before a dart stuck Harry in the side of his neck. The poison should have dropped him instantly. Instead, Harry staggered around.

It reminded him of the time he, Luna, and Ginny got plastered off of that German Firewhisky during Ginny's eighteenth birthday party.

Harry staggered a couple of inches and saw a gentleman dressed in in black armor. He had a mask which was half orange and half black, with a sword strapped onto his back. The gentleman split into three before Harry's eyes.

'When in doubt, hit the one in the middle.'

His reflexes dulled from the poison dart injected into the side of the neck. The assassin grabbed him around the arm and twisted his arm around his back. He caught Harry with a couple of well-placed strikes to the side of his neck and one to the lower back for good measure.

Harry finally discharged him, and then collapsed to the ground, the beating getting the better of him.

Sara Lance clung to the side of the wreckage of the Queen's Gambit, just barely keeping her head above the water when she did.

'Guess its karma trying to sleep with your sister's ex-boyfriend.'

The girl had been dressed in her night clothes, which dripped wet with salt water. The bag she had, and her cell phone, currently disappeared underneath the water and likely sank to the bottom. She held onto the side of the wreckage with one hand and paddled herself over.

Blood dripping from her cheek was not a good thing, especially in a situation like this. Sara's breathing increased when she moved.

"Oliver?" Sara asked. "Mr. Queen?"

No answers from anyone. Sara saw the mist rising up which made it hard. Her hands started to shake. It only took a few seconds for her to cling on. She knew one gust of wind would cause her to fly.

Sara saw a life raft, and she saw the battered body of Robert Queen He looked to have dislocated his shoulder when going down with the yacht.

"Mr. Queen?"

"Ms. Lance," Robert breathed. He moved over and extended a hand to help her onto the life boat.

The boat rocked and wouldn't be able to hold the two of them. Robert looked about ready to pass out. He looked cut out pretty badly.

"Oliver, where is Oliver?"

Sara shivered. Her attire wasn't conductive for the cold air created by the storm.

"I don't know, I saw him….slip underneath, and we got separated. By the currents…..I really wish I could help you more."

Robert closed his eyes. He tried to reconcile what happened to his son. He could see the storm would take out the life boat if both he and Sara were inside of it.

"He's made it, over there, to that island."

Sara squinted to look at the island through the mist. If Oliver made it there, it didn't look very inviting. She couldn't put her finger on why, but it gave a presence of foreboding.

"Oliver, made it? Are you sure?"

"He had to….and you need to make it there, before the storm hits up again."

Robert reached into his satchel and pulled out a notebook before handing it to Sara.

"Give it to Oliver when you get there…..and tell him, I'm sorry. It went too far."

Sara had so many questions, but Robert Queen crawled out of the life boat, and made his way to the piece of wreckage which Sara balanced out. The blonde woman watched in horror when Robert pulled out a handgun and placed it against the side of his temple.

"Mr. Queen, WAIT!"

A gunshot blew right through Robert Queen's temple and he fell down onto the wreckage. His blood spilled all over from it went down.

Sara gripped the make shift paddle and worked her way towards the island. Her heart hammered tightly against her chest.

It was supposed to be a nice pleasure trip over a long weekend, and it turned into an absolute nightmare. Sara closed her eyes and the life boat rocked.

She had been stuck up on rocks. Sara slid from the boat, and crawled across the rocks before jumping onto the island.

Sara just barely made it onto the island. She tried to get out, but collapsed. A twisted ankle impeded any further movement. Sara closed her eyes, and looked up.

She smelled a fire, someone was here.

"IF SOMEONE IS HERE, HELP ME!"

From the distance, Sara saw figures approach. Relief hit her suddenly, and then fear spread the second these armed mercenaries approached Sara from all sides.

"Well, look what washed up."

Two of the mercenaries dragged Sara to her feet. She struggled to break free, and almost did. Unfortunately, she couldn't get very far thanks to her busted ankle so they reclaimed her.

'Feisty little thing, isn't she? I like it."

"Don't screw around. Fyres told us to bring anyone who comes on the island straight to him."

"Ah, seems like such a waste to have a pretty little number like this get tortured for information. Why don't we hold onto her for a while and then hand her over to Fyres? Who's going to know?"

The leader of the mercenaries stood up. "We'll know. And if you need to get your rocks off, we got a magazine back at the bunk you can use."

"It's not the same."

"Quiet! You want Fyres to send….him over here after us."

Sara had no idea where they were taking her now. The notebook clutched in her hand, which one of them noticed it.

"Hey, look at the nice little book she has!"

"Give me that back!" Sara yelled, with a shin bruising kick.

Right before she had brought down to her knees. One of them pushed her face into the dirty.

"What's this girl? Is this your little black book? Or something else?"

One of them flipped through the names in the book and frowned.

"We better show this to Fyres as well. Some of these names look familiar."

This time, the mercenaries tied Sara's hands behind her back as they marched her off.

"Let's take her. Fyres should be ready to interrogate the other one by now."

Sara wondered what they meant about the other one.

Rose Wilson utterly hated her father. Teenagers said they hated their parents and often just said it out of anger and angst. Rose, however, really hated her father, and wanted to kill him.

Slade worked as the world class mercenary, Deathstroke the Terminator, one of the most dangerous assassins for hire in the world. Rose didn't really see much of her father, although the few times he showed up, it turned her life upside down for the worse.

This latest time, Slade drugged Rose and took her against her will, saying it was time for her to see her full potential or die trying. So he dropped her off in the middle of Purgatory to Rose to sink or swim. If she survived the harsh conditions of the island, Rose would be judged worthy. And Slade said he would finally accept Rose as his daughter.

'I wish that bastard was dead.'

She secured some food and supplies, enough to hold her off for the past couple of days. Her father, oddly enough, was present, he had some kind of job on this island, with the man running the operation. Fyres, Rose thought she heard his name was.

Rose never could get close enough to kill Slade despite her attempts to do so.

The girl's eyes narrowed. Her platinum blonde hair hung wildly past her shoulders. She dressed in a ragged black tank top and a pair of jean shorts. Despite only being sixteen years old, Rose had a fit and toned body which many might mistake for someone more mature. Rose stepped over to the rocks and surveyed the surroundings.

Slade made his way through the tent. Rose wanted to get close enough to him to take him out.

'Bastard deserves to die.'

Rose's half-siblings didn't have any better of a relationship with their father than Rose did, but Rose thought she had to prove more for some reason.

Was her mother still off on a mission? Her work brought her away from home for long times. Rose learned to fend for herself, learned skills which would allow her to survive at a young age. Her mother provided for Rose when she was around, but they didn't have the strongest relationship.

Adaline's failed marriage with Slade weighed on the woman, and Rose being around was a constant reminder of the failed relationship.

'Damn it, if only he gets left alone for two minutes, I can get him.'

Slade knew, he had to know Rose was there. Rose decided to slip away, waiting for the next moment where she could get close enough to Slade.

The teenage warrior stopped and frowned. These mercenaries were preparing for something.

Rose reminded herself of her goal. Survive and kill Slade, it was the only thing which mattered to her.

Harry's head throbbed when he tried to wake up. The pounding in the back of his head just increased. He could see the same mercenary standing in the background, menacing and staring at him. The mask covered his face. The blade sheathed over his back could be seen.

"Well, you're an interesting one, aren't you?"

A middle-aged man came into Harry's blurred focus. He looked at Harry with a smile.

"You were brought here and my men swore you had severe burns over most of your body," the man said. "And now they're healed."

A long beat followed and Harry said nothing. The man leaned down to look into Harry's face.

"How do you suppose that happened?"

Harry smiled.

"Magic?"

The flippant answer was not appreciated by the man, despite it being technically true.

"What's your name, son?"

Harry looked towards him. Never tell them your name, first thing he learned in Auror training. It gave them an advantage over you in battle. People feared the unknown, therefore being unknown gave you an advantage.

"Not talkative, I see," he replied. "Very well, perhaps I should tell you where you ended up, even if I'm not quite sure how you got here."

The magic answer might not hold water a second time, Harry made a mental note to think so any way.

"You are on the island of Lian Yu, which is called Purgatory. It's a place where many of the worst prisoners in the world are sentence. Many barely survive a month here."

Harry knew he was on a place called Lian Yu, but he didn't know exactly where it was. Still could pose a problem.

'With my current magical problems, teleporting out of here might not be advisable. Hell with the energies on this island, I might not be able to. It might be just like Hogwarts was.'

"And yet, you're here," Harry said.

"My circumstances are different," the man told him.

"Yes, they are…and you're Fyres, aren't you?"

A frown showed Harry he was right. He also had a distinct advantage of Fyres. Harry knew his name. Fyres didn't. Harry hoped to keep it like this for as long as he can.

"How do you know….."

Harry flashed a bland smile. "Your men love to talk when they think no one is listening."

The leader of the operation frowned and shook his head.

"Yes, although I do wonder how much you know. Well, we'll find it out….after a few days without food, water, or sunlight, you might be more willing to speak, tell me why you're here, what you know, and who you are."

Harry didn't say anything. It wouldn't be the first time he had to go several days without food, water, or sunlight.

'Thanks, Vernon,' Harry thought. 'Never knew my shitty childhood could come in handy when surviving on desolate island out in the middle of nowhere.'

The man Fyres left, which left Harry around with the sunny mercenary in the orange and black mask. Not exactly someone Harry suspected would lead to a very fun conversation.

To Be Continued.

So we begin another adventure. To ask the inevitable question of whether or not there will be any other Harry Potter characters involved other than Harry Potter…..yes, but obviously they're a bit turned around due to this being a different world.

Until the next time I compose a chapter fit to post.