When Harry Potter Goes Dark Phoenix: 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.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before any negative reviewers point out the blooming obvious, let me say it with absolute certainty.
For the foreseeable future, this is my FINAL new story – all other new nuggets brewing will be put in my ideas dump.
But, tbh, I just LOVE the Dark Side so much that I just had to throw in the theme of this story – The Triwizard Tournament – and…well, just read on to find out how the madness spreads.
Key Pairing: Dark/Evil Harry/Astoria
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Mind Speech'
/Parseltongue/
Chapter 1: Did You Miss Me?
The sound of his name…
Gasps of disbelief, rage, fear and unease…
The feeling of something…something he didn't understand stirring deep inside of him…
Then…
Blue fire became his whole world.
HPDP
Strange.
That was how Harry described how he felt when he noticed the stirrings of consciousness pulling him out of the darkness, and the odd flashbacks of events that had sent him spiralling into the darkness to begin with.
Indeed, he felt strange, but not hurt.
Nor did he feel any way that might have been described as him feeling scared, confused, alarmed, sick at heart – or anywhere else in his body for that matter – and wanting answers that could, apparently, only come from an old buzzard who couldn't be arsed, or a moronic redhead who was Envy Incarnate – or might as well be – or, worse, the headache-inducing nightmare who thought she could do anything – even hit others – and she'd get away with it because she was the brightest witch of her age.
No.
In fact, if there was a word he could use to describe how he felt, then it would be…whole!
It was like every little piece of himself had finally fit together perfectly, bringing with it a pulse of greatness and power that only strengthened his body, helping him find the energy to pull himself up. He also noted, not without feeling disgusted about it, mind, but he also noticed that he was lying in his home away from home, aka the Hogwarts Hospital Wing while, as he looked around, Harry snorted softly when he noticed he was alone.
Sliding off the bed, allowing himself to stand on the cold, stone floor and stretch up to his full height, Harry looked around curiously, a question niggling at the back of his mind as he tried to piece things together.
'How long have I been in this place? Longer than usual? Shorter? Overnight?'
"Merlin's beard!"
Turning, Harry saw Madam Pomfrey staring at him in alarm, if not a state of disbelief and relief-both, though her eyes were also filled with what could only be described as fear as she looked Harry up and down, almost as though she was afraid…nay…terrified of what she was seeing.
"Potter!"
"You were expecting Jesus Christ?" asked Harry, before he snorted amusingly.
Wow.
Where had that come from? And why did he like how smug, self-empowered and confidently-arrogant it made him feel?
"I…" replied Madam Pomfrey, looking to the bed where Harry had been laid. "I don't…you…this can't be!"
"Yes, well thank you for that useless lie," drawled Harry, looking away from the matron as he asked, "Personally, I would have thought my presence in your little safe haven wouldn't be too surprising, Poppy. But on the other hand, now I've had my annual stay in the Hotel Hospital Wing, I won't need to come back for the rest of the year, right?"
Again, he silently wondered where this smugness was coming from, while also wondering why he hadn't shown such a brash side of himself before.
HPDP
Then, he remembered the red and brown-haired leeches, as well as the blond and greasy stalkers, and the sheep who followed them all, making sure Harry's life went to hell in a hand basket because nobody else could be fucked to do anything about it…
And he had his answer.
HPDP
"Potter," said Poppy, drawing Harry's attention back to her, while she smirked thinly as she explained, "While I pray your prediction is correct and this is the only time you are forced to stay here longer than should be necessary for a boy like you, need I remind you that you are a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament…in fact, it's the day of the First Task…"
"And with that, I bid you good day," said Harry, ignoring Poppy's attempt to stop him as he walked to the doors.
Apparently not even caring that he was still dressed in his Hospital Wing pyjamas as he did so.
HPDP
Albus Dumbledore hated his job sometimes.
It was bad enough that he had to deal with the incompetence of the Ministry in making sure nothing could go wrong with the Tournament, not to mention the underground, not-so-secret gambling ring that Ludo had running on said Tournament – honestly, it was as though he couldn't learn a lesson in a school, if not anywhere else – but, in this instance, Albus really hated his job.
After the horrifying incidents of the night of the Champions' Selection, and the alarming, terrifying revelation that fourteen-year-old Harry Potter had become the Fourth Champion – in a Tournament that was supposed to be for three people and only three, he didn't hesitate to add – Albus had come to really hate how things weren't going smoothly at Hogwarts.
But then, when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet, everything really went to Hades…
HPDP
Albus, as well as many of the students and staff from the three schools, plus their guests from the Ministry, were highly-unlikely to forget that night.
After calling Harry's name out three times, Albus had watched as the boy slowly skulked towards him and the other adults, amidst outcries from his peers that he had cheated, and that he wasn't even seventeen yet. Even though Hogwarts already had a Champion – and one that was of age, which meant he was legitimate, unlike Harry – they chose to target the boy for something that was beyond his control and, from the dark, defeated look Albus had seen in Harry's eyes, it was also something that he didn't know could, or would, happen.
However, before Harry had managed to reach Dumbledore, the Goblet of Fire had lit up again, though now, it burned with black flames that were tinged with green sparks and embers, almost as though it was trying to fend off what was happening – at least, that's what Dumbledore believed.
But then, to the horror of the staff and students, the Goblet had exploded, showering the space around it in the flames that had spewed out of its top for the fifth time, forcing Albus, Filius, Minerva and, to Albus' relief, even Severus – though he only aimed his wand at his Slytherins – to shield the students from the raging firestorm that had filled the Great Hall.
However, what none of them had realised, until it was too late, was that their shields might protect the spectators…
But not Harry Potter!
As close as he was to the exploding Goblet, Harry may as well have spontaneously combusted, albeit in blackish-green fire, which actually seemed to turn blue again – the Goblet's standard flame colour – as the elemental fury enveloped the boy.
The sound of Harry's screams, coupled with the smell of his burning flesh, the sight of him flailing and thrashing on the ground as he tried, and failed, to fight off the flames and even the lack of success from Dumbledore himself when he tried to put out said flames – only to have his efforts extinguished before they'd touched the boy's skin – would stick with Dumbledore, and many others, for a long time to come.
In the end, much to the shock of the spectators, as well as the relief, if not surprise, of Dumbledore himself, it had been Fawkes who'd swooped in, going into a Burning Day before everyone present, before he'd vanished, taking Harry with him in his fire.
Amidst the sea of fear, nausea – from the smell of burning flesh and the sight of the torture that Harry had gone through – and no small number of questionable arguments that rose up when Fawkes vanished, Albus barely managed to dismiss his students, entrusting their aftercare to the Heads of House. He also left the effort of speaking to the other three Champions to Barty, who seemed more-concerned with the destruction of the Goblet of Fire rather than the possibility that Harry was…was…could have been…
Albus hadn't been able to stomach the idea.
So, when Poppy sent him an emergency message, saying that Fawkes had brought Harry to the Hospital Wing, and that the boy was healing before her eyes, almost like he'd been dipped in a bath of Fawkes' glorious tears, Albus was relieved.
Curious, no doubt, but relieved.
HPDP
By the time he'd managed to make his way to the Wing, Albus found Harry had been fully-healed, but he was fast asleep…or at least, that was how it looked, since his body was still, save for the gentle, almost-unnoticeable rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out.
Also, if it wasn't for Poppy's medical scan revealing the existence of the boy's still-beating heart, he could have been described as dead.
To Albus' absolute relief, Harry's lightning bolt scar was also still clear and visible.
That meant things could still go the right way…
HPDP
But now, with the First Task underway and, even after the past several weeks – including a scathing article on child safety from Rita Skeeter, which was, thankfully, aimed at the organiser of the Tournament, meaning Bagman, and not Dumbledore – Albus had to admit that he hated his job.
Both as Headmaster and as the one who knew what had to happen, so the world could finally be free of the threat of Voldemort's evil.
After all, as host Headmaster, it now fell to him to declare Harry as a non-competitor in the Tournament, which would doom everyone.
HPDP
Because he was unable to compete, by the law inscribed into the magical contract binding all four Champions to its rules, Harry would lose his magic, which, since a wizard's magic was everything to them, would also mean that the boy would lose his life.
And once he did, Tom would return…somehow, but nobody would be there to draw his fire, much less be the sacrifice that the world demanded, for the Greater Good, so Albus could remind them all why he was the one Voldemort feared most.
Worse still, with Harry's death as collateral damage because of the Tournament's rules, no wills or testaments could be enacted, which meant Albus would be forced to admit to his friends that he couldn't reward them for their trials and their steadfast loyalties to him. He'd also be forced to admit he couldn't make sure the future of the Potter, and Peverell – not that Harry needed to know that – Dynasties went on in the belly of the youngest Weasley, where it could be moulded by Molly's overbearing smothering and Albus' sagely advice as he made them the perfect pawn to face the world and honour him as the real Light Lord.
And why?
All because someone out there couldn't accept that Albus Dumbledore knew what had to happen to save the world.
Yes, he really hated his job…
HPDP
"Albus?"
Trying to maintain his grandfatherly persona as he felt a pudgy hand tug on his sleeve, Albus turned to Ludo, who nodded sadly as he indicated the still-empty arena, his piggy eyes and stupidly-naïve face filled with sorrow all his own – which Albus knew, thanks to a Legilimency probe, was because of all the money he'd already squandered, none of which he had, on the chance that Harry would win the Tournament and survive.
"It…it's time…I'm sorry; the rules are clear…you have to say it."
Clearing his throat, Albus stood up, placing the Elder Wand against his throat as he cast a silent Sonorous, before he addressed the students, and their guests, watching the First Task.
"Your attention, please? As you all know, our three Champions, Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum, have faced their dragons and retrieved their eggs, without which, they cannot hope to be ready for the next Task. Now, as many of you also know, and all of us shall remember, our…our Fourth Champion, Mr Harry Potter…is unable to compete in the Task and so…as soon as I finish this sentence, it is…with great sorrow that…that I must admit…"
"That you really are a pathetic excuse for a great wizard who dresses like Professor McGonagall's great-grandfather because he can't be arsed wearing anything else! Tell us all something else we don't know, why don't you, Albus, my boy?"
Suddenly, every head snapped down to the centre of the pit-slash-arena where the other Champions had faced their own dragons, and as Albus said, emerged successful. As they all looked down, there were gasps of alarm, disappointment and, from somewhere in the crowd, even a few sighs of relief and looks of hope, if not curiosity, and even teary delight as the spectators looked down at the figure standing before them.
Harry James Potter, whom was dressed in his Hospital Wing clothes – much to the amusement of more than a few people – standing tall and proud, a smug, beyond-amused look shining in his emerald-green eyes. Eyes that, to the awe of one or two people, weren't just shining; they were also looking around with apparent clarity, seeing as how Harry wasn't wearing his glasses.
And yet, he scanned the sea of faces amusingly as he looked into the eyes, and expressions on the faces of each and every spectator, before he returned his attention to Dumbledore as he clicked his tongue.
"So…dragons, huh? Hmm…hang on; let me check my checklist…"
Holding up his hands, Harry ignored the curious, questioning and even hopeful looks in the eyes of the viewers as he counted off on his fingers.
"Let's see…trolls…Cerberus…living plants…Quirrellmort's bad breath…wraith in the Forest…living tree…barred windows and Muggles who need to be put down like the dogs their sister breeds and shags…flying cars owned by idiotic hypocrites with delusions of grandeur…"
"Hey!"
"Yes, I see you, Weasel-bee," drawled Harry, waving mockingly as he added, "Don't worry, baby; Sugar Daddy Harry's here to make you the centre of the universe again…oh, wait; no I'm not."
"Harry, you're being ridiculous."
"And, naturally, there's the Keith Harris to his Orville the Green Diapered Duckie," drawled Harry, earning a few titters from the Muggle-borns and Half-Bloods who got the reference before Harry looked up from his counting. "She's even sitting so close to have her fist, or maybe her favourite book, shoved up your arse too, Weasley. Yowzah; how the heck are you sitting down? Actually, forget I asked; there are more important things to think about right now, like me…so, where was I?"
"I believe you were seeing if you've had to deal with this trouble before, Harry Potter," argued a light, airy voice from the crowd, earning a curt nod from the young man as he held up his hands again.
"Much obliged, dear lady," said Harry, frowning in concentration as he went on, "Anyway, back to the list; Lockhart's ego, and his fake teeth, his hairspray, deodorant and secretly-in-the-closet love for real warriors; Basilisks, cursed diaries written in them by obviously slutty-minded silly little girls…what else? Oh yes, giant spiders…Boggarts…Dementors…werewolves…Death Eaters…falsely-accused family members…not to mention old Snake Face himself on…how many occasions now? Certainly more than the ringmaster in his overcompensatingly-large gold chair, that's for sure…oh, and let's not forget the Death Eaters…hmm…"
Scratching his head, Harry shook it as he drawled, "No…I don't think I've had to cross swords with dragons yet; thanks for switching up the Big Bad of the Year, Albus…now, where is the big, ugly brute? Oh damn! I forgot the Hippogriff, the Hypocrite, the Hypochondriac and the Hyper-Obsessed Grease Stain who can't take no for an answer…from either Potter, apparently!"
"Are you hoping to talk the dragon to death, Potter?" spat Snape, earning a scoff from Harry.
"Why not, Snivellus? That's how you aim to kill me and deal with your fetish for my Dad, right? By talking me to death and sticking your abnormally-large nose where it doesn't…whoo!"
Suddenly, Harry was cut off when a gust of wind buffeted his black hair, earning a low hum from the emerald-eyed scion as he clicked his tongue again, looking now to the crowd with curiosity in his eyes.
"There's something really bad behind me, isn't there?"
More than a few nods, as well as yesses and excited looks answered him.
"Thought so…scuse me, Hypocrites School of Wusses and Whiner Babies…"
As everyone watched, some of them scowling at Harry's blatant act of disrespect towards their school, those looks, the scowls, the whispers and even the excitable looks – namely from those who looked to profit from the death and, possibly, even devouring/disembowelment of the Fourth Champion – all vanished when Harry raised his right hand…
And snapped his fingers…
Causing the dragon behind him to explode in a shower of bloody entrails, scraps of scales, bits of fang and things you probably didn't want to think about, all of which rained down around the arena, while Harry hummed, lifting a piece from his left shoulder.
"Eww…I got some dragon on my clothes…good thing they're just hospital robes…anyway…"
Turning on his heel, ignoring the dead silence that followed him, Harry picked up the golden egg in the centre of the nest, before he hummed thoughtfully as he looked to the other eggs.
"So kids, Mummy's dead, Daddy's as good as, if not is too…and the whole world is looking at you like a meal ticket…I'd say welcome to my life, but I think I'll spare you all that crap-fest and just do this."
Before anyone could stop him, Harry waved his hand, causing the eggs to vanish from the nest, while he turned back to the onlookers, holding up the golden egg to the mass of speechless, scared, disbelieving and – again, in a few very rare, private cases – amazed, awestruck-looking crowd, he frowned in abject curiosity.
"So, let's see what all the fuss is about, shall we?"
"Harry, don't…"
Before Dumbledore could stop him, Harry twisted the golden egg's top open, flooding the arena, as well as most of the grounds, with the earth-shattering, beyond-unintelligible wails of agonisingly-tormenting noise that seemed to be contained inside the egg. As a result, almost everyone covered their ears, many of them casting Muffilato spells while some cringed and assumed the foetal position, as though the high-pitched screeches were worse than any Cruciatus Curse, even those cast by certain psychotic beautiful ladies on the dark side.
Almost everyone, that is, except for Harry, who was standing in the same spot, stock-still, unfazed by the shrieking madness; instead, as he looked at the open egg and listened to the terrible din, he nodded once, looking both impressed and amused by whatever it was he was listening to.
"I see…well, that is interesting…and what a nice poem it is too…wow…so we've got the Ts and Cs down. Good…excellent…now, let's bring it to a close, shall we? Nice and easy…and I've even got a good use for you, eggy…I mean, shame I can't eat you, but I know someone who'll either try to or put you to much better, more obvious uses…"
As the egg snapped shut again, Harry tossed it up into the crowd, where it was caught by a pained, angry-looking Ron and Hermione, both of whom saw Harry smile wolfishly as he nodded once, "There you go, Weasel-bee; that's real gold, you know? Keep it, melt it down, flog it for some real money…same with your spew-crazy girlfriend there. Maybe she can use the gold to raise money for her little bullshit charity…or buy herself some friends who actually want to put up with her time-travelling, elf-killing nonsense!"
"WHAT?" Thundered Hermione, but Harry didn't seem to notice.
Instead, he turned on his heel and, raising a hand in farewell, he laughed, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got things to do, people to see, lives to live; you know how it is…bye-bye, kiddie-winkies."
Then, to the shock of the spectators – though it was highly-doubtful they could be any more shocked – Harry vanished in a blazing aura of lightning.
Leaving a silent, disbelieving sea of faces, as well as one or two enraged, disappointed looks.
And a certain old man, who didn't know whether to be relieved or beyond-terrified by what he had just seen.
HPDP
Yes, the Chosen One – read: sacrificial pawn – was still alive…
But where in Magic did he get that much power?
HPDP
Dead silence.
That was the only way to describe the atmosphere inside Gringotts Bank when, all of a sudden, every goblin, including the security detail, cart drivers and even those who were going on-shift to clean the dragons' shit piles away all stopped still and stared at the lone figure that walked in through the doors, now decked out in plain, silky black robes and filled with an air of pride, dominance and fire.
One or two of the younger goblins even trembled as they saw the emerald-green eyes of the youth look in their direction, while he walked to the head of the hall, easily making his way between the customers who were waiting to be served – none of whom seemed eager to cross swords with said youth, either, the goblins noticed.
Once he stopped before the Head Teller, the young wizard looked up with a calm, surprisingly-youthful smile of friendly intent;
"At the risk of feeding an age-old cliché…take me to your leader?"
YOWZAH!
Talk about risen from the ashes, but…um…wow; even I don't know what to say about this, other than…
What Happens Next?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Dumbledore tries – and, surprise-surprise, fails – to get back the control he never had to begin with, but not before he is forced to be on the receiving end of a path he has no real choice in; also, the new and improved Harry makes it crystal-clear that only one person controls his life…Harry James Potter;
Please Read and Review
PROMPT INFO:
So, as I said, this is my last new idea for the foreseeable future, but it was one I couldn't ignore, even with everything I have going on.
So, here are the details:
Harry was put through hell in his life-or-death adventures, but when he's pushed further still by his forced magical maturity thanks to the Tournament, the outcome is terrifying! For if power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, Harry Potter has become something so corrupted, it's rotten to the core
(Dark/Evil OP Harry: thanks to his forced magical maturity, Harry becomes infused with raw magical energy, turning him into a living conduit for the power of the arcane: however, the overwhelming might of this power warps Harry's mind, giving him a God Complex that makes him mad with power, confident to the point of selfishly arrogant and ruthless to the point of being beyond merciless: what he does with his godlike powers is up to you: as well as indulging all his powers, Harry seeks to show EVERYONE who the greatest Sorcerer and true champion is: as part of his descent, Harry MUST call Hermione out and humiliate her about her SPEW campaign whilst gathering allies and slaves to serve and worship him: crossovers welcome: bonus points if, with his new powers, Harry can drain, warp and manipulate the magic in others)
So, what happens next?
Chaos seems like a pretty damn good estimate, wouldn't you agree?
AN: Astoria Greengrass
Also, in this story, before anyone asks, Astoria is going to be in the same year and class as Luna, Ginny, Colin etc.
How am I going to bring her to Harry?
Trust me, I've got an evil, but fun idea – and no, it doesn't involve betrothal contracts like most Harry/Greengrass pairings;