Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and BioShock is owned and property of 2K and Irrational Games. I own nothing.

A/N: This story is made up of chapters that didn't make it into my other fic, Matter of Perspective for one reason or another. This first chapter I cut because I originally wanted to keep certain spoilers out of my story for anyone who hasn't played BioShock before, but realized that was a bit silly because this is also a BioShock crossover. And I cut this chapter because I felt it was too much of a rehash of the opening of the first game and was worried it might be a bit boring.

1960

Atlantic Ocean, near Iceland.

The Apollo Airlines flight had continued on throughout the night from its journey from America to Europe. The planes interior held a multitude of sleeping passengers, tired from the hours upon hours of air travel. For the ones who remained awake, they partook in lighting cigarettes, or asking the stewardess for a snack or a drink. One man sat amongst some of the sleeping forms, a smoke in his hand and a present on his lap.

He wore a white cableknit sweater and dark pants, but the most notable feature were the tattoos on his wrists which held a chain design. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a wallet containing a picture of himself and two people whom he called his parents.

They told me, "Son, you're special. Born to do great things." He put his wallet away and turned to the present in his lap, a going away gift as he left their small farm in Overlook, Kansas to go visit some relatives in Europe. A note attached read: Dear Jack, Would You Kindly not open until-,

"And you know what? They were right."

Floating.

Sinking.

Drowning.

What?

Jack opened his eyes, and felt a sting from the saltiness of the freezing ocean water around him. A purse and shoe floated past his vision before descending into the darkness of the water below. A plane propeller ripped through the water next to Jack, narrowly swimming his way out of its path to avoid getting a limb lopped off.

It was all so jarring. Which way was up? Which way was down? How did he end up in the ocean? The questions swirled around in his mind, much like the debris around his own person. Water began seeping into nose and mouth at what felt like an alarming rate. He gasped for air. Which way to the surface?

Jack went out on blind faith and just started kicking and paddling through the icy water to what he assumed to be the surface. He could see a glowing light of sorts in that direction. It was either the surface, or he was going to be meeting his maker much sooner than expected. His vision began to fade as the icy feeling crept around his now soaked body.

"Aah!" His head broke the surface and his lungs worked on overdrive to take in as much oxygen as possible from his previous submersion. Jack coughed up what felt like half the ocean, as he took some time to get his bearings. Looking around from where he now floated, he could see how he had wound up in the ocean.

A fire danced on the surface of the water, probably from oil of the plane. He could see the tail end bobbing like cork to his left, as it would surly fill with water any moment before sinking. The plane had crashed.

Christ, what was he going to do? How did this even happen? Jack began to swim past the tail end of the plane. If there were any survivors maybe he could meet up with them and-, what was that?

He craned his neck to see how tall the lighthouse was. Not fifty feet from him, was a tall ominous lighthouse on a small spit of rock in the middle of the North Atlantic. The almost green glow emanating from the top, combined with the full moon peeking out of the clouds behind gave the scene a rather menacing vibe.

But yet, there was something, something, not unfamiliar about the sight. Despite the ominous vibe, there was a sort of inviting presence that he felt he recognized. He was scared out of his mind from the crash, but his arms and legs propelled Jack forward toward the awaiting steps that led up to the lighthouse.

Water dripped from his now soggy clothes and light brown hair and he took a minute to look at the true damage from the plane crash. Fire illuminated the dark water in a very surreal light. He listened to any cries of help that might emerge either from the stewardess, the pilots, or his fellow passengers. He heard none. Just the snap and crackle of the fire and a breeze blowing over the dark water. Was he really the only one to make it?

He turned to the lighthouse, and saw with surprise that the brass door leading in was slightly ajar. Was it possible someone else had escaped and taken shelter inside? Of course it was possible. He didn't see any lights on inside the structure, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone in there. He could meet up with them and wait until rescue arrived. When the flight didn't show up at its destination help would have to be sent out to find the missing plane.

Putting any hesitation aside, Jack pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness. As he took a few steps further inside, the sound of the door closing behind him made him turn around to see if there was anyone behind him. There wasn't. then how-?

Lights suddenly turned on to illuminate the entrance hall of the lighthouse. He had to squint before his eyes adjusted to the new setting. Now that he could see he could determine that whoever made this lighthouse spared no expense. Facing opposite the door was a giant golden bust of a man who seemed to leer down at him. A giant red banner read: No Gods or Kings. Only Man.

Jack walked toward the bust where a plaque had been placed underneath. It read: In what country is there a place for people like me?- Andrew Ryan.

Andrew Ryan? Ryan? Ryan? He had never heard the name before, but yet like the lighthouse, there was something about it. Both familiar, and not at the same time.

Jack's attention was turned away from the bust of Ryan to a tune being made from the lower level of the structure. This time he was able to recall the musical tune he was hearing; it was a rendition of Bobby Darrin's Beyond the Sea. Maybe there was somebody downstairs.

As Jack descended downwards, the tune became louder, more inviting until at last he found himself staring at a round metal contraption bobbing up and down in a small pool of water. Cautiously, Jack approached. Inside the sphere were rather simple, a few seats and a lever along with a radio where the music was coming from. His attention drifted to the lever, it had two settings, up and down. Was there another level of the lighthouse lower than this? His hand gripped the lever.

Did he really want to do this? To anyone watching him it would look like a stupid decision. He should just wait for rescue to come in the lobby up above, not going around exploring. But there was that feeling again. That ever so mysterious feeling telling him to trust what would happen, that he could handle what would happen. He pulled the lever. A glass door closed and sealed the sphere shut as it sank into the water. As it descended a film screen descended covering the porthole window/door.

An image of Andrew Ryan appeared onscreen dressed in a fine suit with a pipe in hand. A prerecorded voice began speaking from the radio. "I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No, says the man in Washington it belongs to the poor. No, says the man in the Vatican it belongs to God. No, says the man in Moscow it belongs to everyone. I rejected those answers. Instead I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose…Rapture."

The screen pulled up so Jack could look out the window at the vast underwater city now presented to him. He felt his jaw drop and eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. It was a dream, it had to be. He would wake up back on the plane and this would have all been a dream. But it's not, a voice in his head seemed to tell him. Ryan's recording began talking once again.

"A city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."

The sphere moved its way past the underwater skyscrapers towards what Jack could only assume was the docking station. That was when another voice started speaking through the radio, this one with a thick Irish brogue. "…lighthouse is all lit up like hellfire. Best get over there we got a sphere coming in…"

Hours later.

Jack could only wonder how else his world could get turned upside down. First the plane crash, then Rapture, to finding a super drug called ADAM that gave him superhuman like powers, and now to little girls who appeared possessed and trailed by giants in diving suits. Ever since he got to Rapture it was a battle for survival. His first and trusty weapon in the form of a wrench was gripped in his hands as he peeked around the corner of the hall he was in.

There she was, kneeling over a rotting corpse with her needle in hand. Poking and stabbing the body as she extracted ADAM from his system. A Little Sister. And of course her behemoth of a protector stood behind her, ever vigilant.

Seeing no Splicers nearby, Jack took some time to assess what supplies he had. He was running low on rounds for his revolver and Tommy gun. However he had an abundance of trap bolts for his crossbow, and exploding buck for his shotgun. And of course he had five EVE hypos left to power the plasmids he had acquired.

Every weapon he had gathered had served him well thus far. And he would need his arsenal if he was to take down that Big Daddy and get to the Little Sister. Jack pulled out his crossbow and trap wires. He fired a few down the hall between himself and the Big Daddy.

Next he focused and his Telekinesis Plasmid came to life in his left hand. He directed it at a garbage can and levitated it in the air. Now came time for the action. Jack moved the garbage can towards the Big Daddy, and with a push of his arm, sent it flying down the hall.

It hit as expected, and the once yellow portholes were now glowing a violent red hue. "RROOURGGGH!"

The Big Daddies of Rapture were very docile for the most part. If you didn't bother them, they left you alone in peace. Jack had even got close to some wandering around by them. But if they had a Little Sister with them, that's when they would go into protector mode. Anything that they perceived as a threat they would eliminate with extreme prejudice. So when Jack just openly attacked one in the company of a Little Sister, a fight was guaranteed.

With its drill arm revving to go, the Bouncer class barreled down the hall straight for Jack. But with the trap wires in place, the Big Daddy was in for quite the surprise when electricity cursed through its metal form. That bought Jack enough time to bring out his shot gun. Loaded with some exploding buck, Jack Fired two shells at the metal giant. The head from the bang managed to char some of the armor. But even that wasn't enough.

The Big Daddy grabbed him by the neck and tossed him into a wall. Jack groaned in pain as the Big Daddy prepared to charge him once more. Acting fast, Jack activated his Incinerate Plasmid, and with a snap of his fingers, the Big Daddy was set ablaze. Jack switched to his revolver and fired four rounds at the mutated man's helmeted face.

Seeing the Big Daddy begin to tire, Jack brought out his crossbow once more and fired two arrows into its back, where the fuel and oxygen tanks were. With a last whale like moan, the Big Daddy dropped dead to the tiled floor.

"No! Mr. Bubbles!" The Little Sister cried as she approached her fallen protector. She wept openly at the sight of her dead "father." Jack couldn't help but feel pity for the girls who had become these brainwashed creatures. But thanks to a certain plasmid given to him, but one of Rapture's sane inhabitants, he could change that.

He picked the girl up, who kicked and screamed in his grasp, and brought a hand to her forehead. The veins in his wrist glowed bright and after a second or two, he released the girl. She brushed away a few strands of messy black hair, and Jack was pleased to see her once yellow eyes were gone. Instead they were now a one of a kind emerald green shade.

She looked up at his tall figure and then to a vent used by the Little Sisters to move around safely in Rapture. "Thank you," she said to him. "I need to find my brother now." She climbed up into the vent and began to move around to find a safer place.

The radio at Jack's side crackled to life. "Good on ya boyo," The Irish accent of the man he considered his only friend in Rapture spoke. The voice of Atlas. "Those little ones have always given me the creeps. You still would have gotten more ADAM my way o' course, but still, wha's done is done. Now, would you kindly hop on over to Hephaestus Core. We got a score to settle with Ryan."

With that, Jack set off in search of the nearest bathysphere. Rapture was a place of insanity for sure, but with Atlas guiding him he was confident he would make it out to see the surface again.

A/N: If you enjoyed and want to see more deleted chapters so to speak, let me know and I will post them, but at an irregular basis. Thank you.