Harry James Potter swayed back and forth, the rusty chains of the swing set creaking ominously in the night.

If someone where to look at his face, they'd probably say he was lost in thought. But if they were able to see into his mind itself, they'd see that he was actually so lost that it was like he had gotten turned around in the woods and somehow ended up in the middle of the Arctic.

The topic that he was so lost in, was both a simple one, and the most complicated topic he'd ever imagined.

War. Or more specifically, the lack of war.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had returned at the end of last year, and even though the Ministry's official stance was 'Deny, Deny, Deny', there was a surprising lack of anything in either the muggle or magical news. The magical news was overrun with a smear campaign against both Harry and Albus Dumbledore, while the muggle news was finding itself so out of interesting news that they're covering old ladies who named their cats after the seven dwarves.

It was almost like Voldemort was in hiding. Which honestly, Harry could understand, it made some kind of sense to stay under the radar for as long as one could while everyone else covered their ears in denial. If Harry wasn't so certain that Fudge was just so stupid and cowardly, then he'd be suspicious that the man was on Voldemort's side.

The sound of thunder pulled his mind back to the present, making him glance up into the sky to eye the black clouds he could see approaching in the distance. He needed to leave now, if he didn't beat Dudley back to Privet Drive then Vernon would probably try lock him out all night again. And unfortunately, the brewing thunderstorm would only make his obese cousin waddle home faster, lessening the amount of time Harry had to get back.

Standing and letting his feet walk a familiar path on their own, Harry's mind faded into the background again as he returned to his thoughts.

And thinking about taking sides during this war. What side was Dumbledore on exactly? Harry had long since accepted that when Voldemort returned, (when, not if), that he'd be a 'high-profile' target considering the Dark Lord's obsession with him. He'd also assumed that Dumbledore had realised this as well. Especially since Harry himself had also been the one 'lucky' enough to take part in the ritual that resurrected Voldemort. And not only that, but Harry had fought the Dark Lord and won four times.

But yet, where was Harry? Where was the only person other than Dumbledore to fight Voldemort and win? He was stuck in Privet Drive with his abusive 'family', while his best friends acted like he didn't exist! Well screw them, he decided. If they were going to treat him like this then he could return the favour.

His vision blurring suddenly, Harry paused to lean against the wall, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass. And just to make these holidays the best he'd ever had, he was pretty sure he was coming down with something. He'd been sweaty all day, his palms and nose red, and a strange exhausting pressure coming from behind his eyes.

A rolling crash above his head made Harry start violently, hands raising to shield himself even as he flinched away from the thunder roaring through the sky. Shaking off the nervousness that gripped his stomach, Harry glanced up at the black storm clouds, faltering slightly as he realised they were above his head already. Licking his lips nervously at the sight, Harry started walking faster, part of him wondering if there was a magical reason behind the storm.

Cutting down the alleyway between Magnolia and Wisteria, a wisp of icy-white mist erupting from his mouth made him freeze. Exhaling slowly again and watching as his breath iced over, Harry raised his hands to pat at flushed cheeks and rub over warm arms.

Why was his breath icing over when he was so warm? Despite his cold breath, Harry himself wasn't at all cold, feeling rather toasty dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Raising a hand to his boiling forehead, Harry frowned, he didn't have a fever did he? He remembered that dragon-pox was a magical illness that generally involved fevers, high temperatures, and glowing angry red spots all over his skin. Basically dragon-pox was just like chickenpox, only it was magical and generally happened in adults instead of children. Not wanting to be locked out all night if he had a fever (or worse… dragon-pox), Harry started down the alleyway, only making it halfway before the street-lamps on either side of the alley suddenly went dead.

Shifting slowly on his feet, Harry's hand crept towards his back pocket, suspicion and nervousness flooding him as he caught sight of the street-lamps down the street flickering on and off as if in response to magic. Shivering as another dizzy spell swept over him, Harry slowly drew his hands away from his wand, glancing down at them and promptly freezing at the sight of his right palm.

It was glowing…

Clenching his hand shut in fear, Harry looked to his left hand and found it glowing even brighter than his right. It was him? He was the source of the magic? Could it be his magical majority? Sirius had explained that to him, that around his sixteenth birthday he'd start experiencing fluctuations in his magic as it grew in preparation for his coming of age.

No, it couldn't be. He was fifteen. And as different as Harry bloody Potter always was, there was no way that he could possibly be going through his magical majority an entire year too early. Besides, what kind of magical majority could he be going through that could leave his palms burning and glowing.

Thunder made Harry freeze, glancing up to where he could see the black clouds, swirling around straight above his head. As the wind picked up, whipping at Harry's hair and clothes, he watched as lightning arced between the clouds. Something was definitely wrong, Harry had neither the knowledge nor the power required to create a storm like this. And no matter what was happening to his magic, he knew that the alien presence he could somehow sense within the storm wasn't related to him at all.

Footsteps made him stiffen, his hands snapping down as he shoved them into his pockets, knowing that glowing palms weren't normal even in the magical world as he turned to face the source of the footsteps. Moments later, the shambling hulking silhouette of his cousin appeared at the mouth of the alley as the teenager started down it, his attention completely occupied by the bar of chocolate he was gnawing on.

Feeling the sweat dripping from his brow onto his cheek, Harry resisted the urge to hurl and instead straightened his back and shoulders, knowing he couldn't show weakness in front of his prison-bound cousin. "What are you doing here Freak?" his cousin's voice demanded, making him slowly glance up to watch Dudley who was watching him – and his glowing pockets – with fear even as he continued eating.

"Hey Big D" Harry began slowly, not going to lay down and let his cousin walk all over him when he was in this mood. "Beat up another ten year old?"

"This one deserved it" Dudley spat, coming to a stop just outside of arm's reach from Harry. "He cheeked me, he did".

"Really?" Harry drawled slowly, faking surprise. "Did he say you looked like a pig that's been taught to walk? Cause that's not cheek, oh Duddykins, that's true" he taunted innocently.

Satisfaction flooded Harry as he caught the way his cousin's fleshy jaw twitched and his face flushed in anger. While he couldn't raise his wand and hex his cousin, he could always relieve his stress by insulting Dudley since the fat boy was too slow to catch the youngest Seeker in a century.

"Think you're a big man carrying that thing do you?" Dudley sneered, raising his hand to gesture at Harry's glowing pockets. "Don't have the guts to take me on without it do you?"

"As opposed to you" Harry countered, nodding at Dudley's stomach, "You're pretty much all gut aren't you? Except," he continued as Dudley sneered, pulling his glowing hands from his pockets and opening them to show his cousin they were empty, "I don't have my wand, and I'm still twice the man you are – whereas you're just the size of two men".

Hiding his grin as Dudley blinked at him dumbly, Harry swayed in place for a moment as his vision blurred again. "What's wrong with you?" Dudley asked cautiously, "You're not gonna puke are you?"

Ignoring his surprise that his cousin had even noticed he wasn't feeling well, Harry just glared up at the fat boy, the burning glow in his palms feeling like it was about to burst. As the street-lamps finally shut off entirely, the alleyway lit up only by the moonlight and the glow radiating from Harry's palms, the raven-haired wizard ignored his cousin's look of terror and instead chose to raise his hands so he could see properly.

"Stop that," Dudley ordered, his voice trembling as Harry tried to peer into the distance to find the cause of the broken street-lamps. "Turn the lights back on you freak".

"You know Dudley," Harry mused slowly as his fingers twitched with the urge to draw his wand, "You might get further in life if you just said 'Please' once in a while".

"Stop it! I don't like it!" Dudley shouted, making Harry glance over at his cousin with a frown, faltering at the sight of the large teenager curling up against the fall, looking clammy and pale.

"Dudley?"

"I said stop it!" Dudley yelled, burying his head in his hands and trying to cover his ears, "Leave me alone Freak!"

The question of 'What in Merlin's name was happening to Dudley' was answered all too quickly in Harry's opinion, as instinct made him turn around in time to duck under the dementor that lunged for his face.

Staring after the demon-wraith in shock, because what were dementors doing in Little Whinging? Harry scrambled back across the ground as the dementor turned and gave chase. Not even having time to ponder why he wasn't feeling the dread-inducing aura, he felt his back hitting the wall of the alleyway and raised his hands automatically, realising seconds later that he had yet to draw his wand.

He didn't need his wand though, it seemed, as the moment the dementor came within the radius of his glowing hands it let out a furious hiss and launched itself backwards.

Connecting the dots with a speed that Hermione would be proud of, Harry pushed himself off the wall and staggered across the alleyway to collapse down next to Dudley, his hands extended and keeping them both safe from the rattling dementors. He had to get Dudley to safety, his cousin remaining clearly trapped in his own mind under the dementor's aura – only Harry couldn't lower his hands to move Dudley without giving the dementor the opening it needed to attack.

As the burning in his palms came to what felt like its peak, Harry watched in horror as the light went out, plunging the alleyway into darkness. Then, as a spark flickered in his right palm, the light came back with a vengeance and illuminated every rotted scale of the dementor's hand poised inches from Harry's face. Everything seeming frozen, Harry looked up into the dementor's hood, feeling like just the sight alone would make him sick. Everything started moving again with a start, no longer burning him the light from his palms tore into the dementor's chest, the dark creature letting out an unearthly shriek that felt like it burst Harry's eardrums as he watched it being shredded by the light cutting through it.

The dementor exploding into dust, Harry stared out at the opposite wall in shock, a low hiss making his eyes flick up to see a second dementor hovering just above the rooftop. Raising his hands to aim the two beams of light at it, the dementor shot off into the night before Harry could destroy that too, a shuddering gasp from Dudley implying that he was now free.

Slowly pushing himself to his feet, Harry remained leaning against the wall as he looked around cautiously, before lowering his eyes down to the light still shining from his palms. This wasn't normal magic. This was like nothing he'd ever heard or read about before, something told him that not even Hermione or Dumbledore would know what this was if he told them about it. It didn't even feel like magic, the power pulsing in his chest was certainly nothing like his magic.

What was happening to him?

INCANDESCENT

I'm not entirely sure what this is inspired by… after all I can't decide whether it's an X-Men crossover and Harry's a mutant or if it's a Lorien Legacies crossover where Harry's a Loric Garde.

It could go either way, and then many more other directions in addition to that, so I'm not going to bother listing all the different fandoms this could be part of and I'm just going to say that I'll never own Harry Potter because I suck.