I own nothing relating to any series, including Harry Potter.

Original Premise called Black Justice by Jonn Wolfe, Chapters 34, 44 and 45 of his Bits and Bobs.

The first bit was meant to be altered more but I lost interest before I could do that, so I apologize for it being a nearly-exact copy.

Eye of the Storm

Chapter 1

There was a slight taste of ozone in the air with the acidic smells that assaulted the nose, letting Harry know he was amongst wizarding healers. It was the ozone that told him it was a magical infirmary of some sort. The ever present silence was another hint that it was a magical hospital, as rooms were buffered from outside noises through wards.

Doing his mental check list before twitching a muscle, he ran down any injuries he might have. All he came up with was a slight taste of skele-grow on the back of his tongue. Going deeper, he could see that his magical core was busy absorbing a much smaller one. Hints of memories confused him.

While he knew it had been destroyed, the complete layout of Potter Manor was in his head. Strange classes with familiar faces, a stable of flying horses, a much younger, very much alive looking Lily and James Potter, hints of an unhealthy marriage. Memories of a very familiar but strangely different face in the mirror. That was disturbing.

Opening his eyes slowly, he could see Lily sitting next to his bed. She was reading a small book, and it appeared that she had been crying for some time. The only evidence of that was the puffy red eyes, though.

There was only one thing he could do, lie like the hags were after his liver. Fortunately, his Occlumency was second to none and he was a master of forging false memories.

"H-he-hello?" He asked, his voice raspy as if he hadn't used it in weeks. He hadn't even meant to stutter, he had been forced to due to how his throat had unexpectedly hurt.

"Harry!" Lily blurted in a half hush, and Harry was immediately wrapped up in a hug. "Oh, my baby. Are you all right?"

And here's where the lie began. "Confused. Head hurts. Thirsty."

Lily pulled back to conjure a glass and filled it with water from her wand. She held his head up and helped him drink.

"Thank you," he said a bit more clearly. "Are you my medi-witch?"

"Medi…" Lily started to say, before a look of horror went over her face. "Harry , do you know who I am?"

"No," he shook his head in denial. "Who's Harry?"

A look of pain went over Lily's face, before it faded completely into a blank mask. She patted his shoulder and stood up. "Rest. I'll fetch the healer."

~Z~

While Lily was gone, Harry dived into his own head. Apparently he had been in a Quidditch accident from rough housing with Ronald Weasley. The pair of them had raided the Weasleys broom shed and tried to outdo each other on real brooms, as opposed to the training brooms that they'd been using for years.

Then they had an argument over who would be the better Quidditch player, and things went downhill from there.

The odd thing, it was his own mind with a smattering of memories from the Harry of this reality. It was as if the old Harry had died in the crash and he had woken up instead of. Which begged the question, how in the name of sanity did he get here?

The last he remembered, he was resting in an old pirate cove, having fended off another ICW assault, taking his time in repairing the tattered ship as a way to waste some time and relax before he inevitably had to run again.

He had been close to eighty, and looked as much as a pirate as the ghost ship he slept on. He had a bushy beard, a missing eye, a false leg and a makeshift wand inside of a self-made prosthetic arm. Give him a bandolier and a tricorn hat and he would've looked the role perfectly.

He had been on the run for close to five decades after another prophecy ruined his life. He hadn't been privy to the knowledge, but an Auror had spilled the beans telling him that they attacked him because the prophecy said he'd raze the Magical World. As such, without his knowing he had been declared a Dark Lord and the majority of his former allies and friends sided against him.

The primary assault had been vicious, injuring him more heavily than the subsequent attacks had. He had also crossed lines he knew expected to never cross. While he hadn't used the Killing Curse, it likely would've been mercy compared to some of the spells he used.

Following that event, he spent the next decade on the run, doing his best to stick to the places he knew and were comfortable with. He even hid in Hogwarts for close to a year and, when he was finally discovered, stole most of the library and ran.

There was also the fact that, due to Right on Conquest, he could claim everything that once belonged to Voldemort as his own, including his branded slaves and the branch of the families they hailed from. As most of the higher ranked Death Eaters were from the main branch, he held ownership of their families in their entirety.

While he could have taken the purebloods' homes for himself, he knew that was an easy way to get himself killed. Instead, he raided them, taking everything of value - specifically books on magic and family grimoires - before activating the war wards in the homes that had them.

After that first decade, he lived in the muggle world for a while, doing his best to blend in and hide. Had he anyone he could have trusted, he would've set up a fidelus, but that was why the spell was flawed.

He stayed in homeless shelters and under overpasses, in log cabins that were falling apart in the middle of the woods or even in caves that hadn't been touched by human hands in hundreds, if not thousands of years. There was even a point where he stopped using magic and lived completely like a muggle, and yet he was still found.

Unfortunately, after a few years, he had to leave Britain because the Ministry got strangely good at tracking him down. But, because he went international, the International Confederation of Wizards got on his case and he had to find increasingly obscure places to hide.

Not that he didn't understand the reason they were coming after him. The last prophecy about a Dark Lord merely included him and Voldemort, making no mention of the world and Magical Britain nearly collapsed as a result. One that included him, though he doubted it mentioned him by name, and the destruction of the Magical World.

Despite understanding why they were after him, he was still angry. No one had talked to him or tried to convince him to not do whatever it was he was being blamed for. Instead he was attacked and gruesomely maimed, forced to protect himself from assault and return his injuries a hundred-fold. And, knowing the Ministry as he did, he didn't doubt they had someone like Rita Skeeter make him out to be the bad guy in the ordeal, as if he was the one to attack the Aurors and Hit-wizards.

He had gone to Hermione, expecting his friend to assist him, only for her to attempt to stun him after contacting the aurors. He returned the favor, letting her drop - as if he had a choice with only one arm and a missing eye - before he apparated out, to the only muggle hospital he was aware of.

He spent weeks in the hospital, recovering and getting his wits about him, as well as learning how to work with only his left arm and eye. Which was very difficult for a right-handed, right-eyed man.

The police questioned him, he was honest with them with everything except magic and his appearance outside the hospital. He gave them the general appearance of one of the aurors that had attacked him, but feigned ignorance of where he was when he was attacked and how he got to the hospital.

Once he had recovered enough to leave, he did so, returning to his former home, which was in complete ruins. While most of his belongings were long gone, he had a few secret locations for his more valuable items, such as his invisibility cloak. Whenever he wasn't using it, he sealed it in the stone foundation of his home. Literally.

Following that, he went to claim the Elder Wand just to be on the safe side, not knowing if his injuries counted as a defeat and not wanting some no-brained wizard or witch to get ahold of it after thinking they were worthy or that it was safe in the Ministry's hands.

After decades of hiding and occasionally faking his own death, he wound up in an old abandoned pirate's cove somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean. He wasn't exactly sure where, only that the island had a powerful set of wards protecting it and that they accepted him as if he was the one who put them down. A few of the charms were outdated, but spells didn't change that much, if at all.

He had found a ship, one that had seen better days, in a small, hidden cove, along with a small amount of treasure in the form of enchanted items. The best items were a barrel of gunpowder that conjured more over time until it was filled, a bandolier that automatically rearmed flintlocks placed inside of it, an eyepatch that muffled excessively loud sounds - he liked that one when practicing with the cannons and flintlocks - and a compass that pointed towards whatever the holder wanted the most. There were a few more items, but those were the most useful.

While the conjured gunpowder didn't last forever, it had been invaluable to his defenses. The ICW couldn't put up strong enough wards in time to stop a cannonball when invading and he had been able to make improvised bombs that he placed around the island, even if they needed to be replaced every other week.

He knew basically nothing about woodworking, but that didn't mean he couldn't work on the ship. The keel was intact, with only a bit of wear and tear from age, use and a bit of water damage but the entirety of the ship was enchanted to help protect it. Getting tar was the hardest part, as he couldn't just conjure it and he ended up stealing it, typically from big-name companies.

He had just repelled another assault and was cleaning up the island, vanishing the bodies and refilling the craters and gouges in the landscape, when he felt a piercing pain. It wasn't quite the same as a piercing curse, which he had felt both legal and illegal variants of, but it felt like it came from the inside.

A thousand thoughts ran through his head about what spells he could be affected by in order to cause the pain he was under and he started applying every counter-curse and healing charm he could think of. Despite that, he didn't improve at all and continued to worsen.

He attributed his death to age, damage and stress. While wasn't particularly old, being only eighty-something, he was more scarred than Moody had been, experienced more battles than any person should have and been subject to numerous curses from his lack of experience and recklessness that he had only cured through sheer luck.

He got the pirate ship up to sailing condition, albeit barely, and set sail. Having brewed numbing potions and having a charm that would allow him to breathe without smoke filling his lungs, he set the ship on fire. Reversing the Fire-Suppression charm wasn't easy, but it was worth the effort required. He could still see the island when the fires had consumed enough of him to kill him,

Though he lived a life full of regrets, he went out in the way he wanted and denied the Elder Wand and Invisibility Cloak to people, with the Resurrection Stone being nothing more than a pebble amongst countless pebbles in the Forbidden Forest.

And then he woke up in the hospital with his mother, Lily Potter, in the room.

The improbabilities of magic continued to astound and confound. There were fragments of the other Harry in his head and magic, but everything else was him.

As far as he could tell, his and Neville's positions had been nearly swapped. Neville had been marked as the Boy Who Lived, losing his parents and grandmother when Voldemort attacked, gaining a scar on his forehead at the same time that Voldemort was purported to disappear.

A few days following Voldemort's disappearance, the Potters were attacked. While neither of his parents were tortured into insanity, Lily did wind up miscarrying and they were both out of commission for several months due to extended Cruciatus exposure.

With news of Peter and not Sirius having been the secret keeper, there had been a hunt for the rat-like man, who had gone missing.