Harry Wanderer

A/n: I hope this is okay… The first prophecy just… came to me, the second one isn't as good, and the first chapter was already written so I just mixed it together, though I don't know if I like it… I'm so proud! I actually thought of something.

Disclaimer: I only own the Prophecies. NO ONE is to use them without my say so… If I find out by chance you did then you will be sued or get a Howler or something else that I can't think of… Everything else, other than the plot isn't mine! All thanks go to the owners only… So enjoy! ^^

Oh! And before I forget! I own the name Lady Gwendolyn Gryffindor Potter! She and her memory will appear soon… ^^

Prophecy of the Wanderer

The Wanderer of Hearts waits in mystification,

His Dreamer of Love waves from a distance.

Waiting, waiting for the fire-headed wonder,

His Unknown Secret Relation Member makes a blunder.

The Dark Lord strikes swiftly and silently in the night,

Stealing the Wanderer's Love and the Light.

Finding the Relation he is in a crisis and makes a mistake,

He might/shall be too late.

For his Love may be gone forever and a day,

Making the Wanderer fight the right way.

If too late he searches for the Hidden Torch,

And finds a way into the forge.

Going to Hell and back with Her soul,

Getting back his reason and core.

Defeating the Evilness lies within him,

And if not found in time, hope shall dimmen.

His sacrifice true and bold of heart,

With his Love by his side he'll finish where it starts.

Prophecy of the Babe

While the Dreamer of Love and the Wanderer of Hearts share their first love,

The tiny seed is planted to bud,

As the months pass the Babe grows,

And the signs of it begin to show.

The Dreamer and Wanderer wed in secret,

To protect themselves and to keep it.

When finding out of the Relation,

Their lives begin to get into a big spin.

He tries, will he fail, to save them,

To live happily, fin?

They have a family to keep for existence's strifes,

They all may/might not keep their life's.

----- Lady Gwendolyn de Gryffindor Potter -----

Chapter One

Scar Problems

The full moon shone through the slightly open steel blinds, shinning on the man in the obviously too small bed where he slept with his covers kicked to the edge. Obviously tall and robust with solid muscle he had an air around him seeming to make people think he was more than he seemed to be. The moon paled the man's tanned skin, outlining him slightly. His unruly black mane of hair that was always put in a ponytail was now just messy and everywhere. His slightly long eyelashes gave him an innocent appearance, almost girlishly so.

But one look at his hard-as-rock features changed that idea. The man's face was a total look of guardedness that made it out to be like he led a dangerous and horrible life, worse than his sixteen-year-old mind would be able to endure. One arm was carelessly sprawled over his head and one was resting on his stomach. Hands, which proved that he indeed did so work hard, relaxed and were not tightened in fear or otherwise. The only sign that gave away that his sleep wasn't as peaceful as he looked on the outside was on his forehead where a scar shaped as a lightning bolt throbbed and wavered a slight yellow to dark blood red.

The horrible thing though, was the bruise's. On his stomach, though strong, had blue-ish and black-ish bruises on them. On his face, his noise looked slightly fractured. He had a black eye on the left one and a new scar running down his right eye. The scar started from his brow and stopped at his cheekbone.

His eye, had thankfully not been punctured or anything. His arm, though muscular, was slightly twisted in a strange way. His left ankle was twisted and there was another new scar running from his ankle up to his knee. Though the tissue was still pink, proving it had recently been done; it wasn't the worst of it. On one of his wrists, around where a vein was there was a line across it.

His room, the smallest of all in Privet Drive House Number 4, was sparsely filled with his belongings. At the end of the bed lay open a trunk filled with a cauldron, robes, a Witch's (or Wizard's) Hat, a wand, a few Magic School books, and some personal belongings like a Photo Album filled with moving pictures of his deceased parents, James Potter and Lily Evans-Potter. A cage for a large owl hung in a corner near the window with a female snowy owl named Hedwig in it. A desk was next to the cage with used up bottles of ink and quills with crumbled pieces of parchment and half-finished letters littered on the battered oak. A bookshelf near the door had sparsely touched books filling the thing with unwanted paperbacks and romance novels.

The silence in the room was broken be the sudden thrashing the man made in the bed, moaning slightly in pain and anguish, as the pain became unbearable in his scar. Hands moved to his forehead, pressing his palms to his scar as the throbbing intensified. Gasping for air as he suddenly woke from the dream and the pains. Still excruciatingly painful as the burning increased, he gasped for breath in the now stuffy room.

He sat up and groaned. Looking at the red dialled alarm clock he groaned again when seeing it said that it was 4:24 a.m. Sighing and deciding that he was obviously not going to get anymore sleep, he moved to the window, pulling up the blinds and opening the window, allowing fresh breezy air in. The sight before him was nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed once more and then looked up at the stars and the moon.

Thoughts briefly came to Professor Lup- Moony and Padfoot, wondering if Remus (Moony) would feel okay. Also worrying if Sirius (Padfoot) had talked to the old crowd yet. He looked up at the constellations, noticing ones he had studied in Arithmacy, at Hogwarts. Then unbidden thoughts of Voldemort came to mind. It reminded him of the dream he had had.

It was yet another torturing session with Voldemort killing Muggles in a few villages. Muttering about how stupid a Ministry can be to ignore facts right on his nose he forcefully withdrew from those thoughts. Yawning he faced away from the window and looked at the calendar. It was a week before he went to school and he was just about starting to go batty from the seclusion. The Dursley's, a month ago, had gotten a letter from Dumbledore.

Though Harry knew Dumbledore had been trying to help him, he had made Harry's problems worse. The Dursley's had seen too it that Harry paid dearly for it. He knew he looked a wreak and didn't know what he was going to do about his scars. They couldn't be hidden by Muggle make-up, and he doubted that he could glamour himself. Glaring in frustration he moved to the desk and started writing down the dream and date.

Before he had left, Professor Dumbledore had handed the journal to him, asking him to jot down his dreams and the information in them. Harry had complied, though not happy about it. He had had a separate journal, a diary of sorts, to keep track of his injuries, some more showing than others, in worry that he might not live through this summer. He shuddered at the thought of some of the things that he had in that journal. Dressing quickly in his hand-me-down clothes that didn't fit him only because his cousin was a true-blue, full-grown killer whale.

He looked at the clock. He might as well go and steal some food. His Uncle had somehow gotten the neighbours to believe he had accumulated all the injuries from the Criminal School his Uncle claimed that he went to. Everyone believed, because they hadn't seen Harry for a few weeks before he was seen doing chores. Uncle Vernon had had Harry doing yard work freely for the neighbours now.

They never met Harry's ice cold gaze or his face, plainly ignoring him easily like a house-elf, though as they never knew of house-elves they didn't know that. Harry never talked anymore, just allowing the things to happen without comment. He then left his sleeping owl.

~*~*~*~

She lifted her skirts and daintily walked up the stoned steps towards the highest towers. It was her castle and she was the heir. Passing the clinking armours and banners that had a Griffin sprawling and a phoenix in flight. She tilted her head slightly to a portrait of a Knight, who was easily climbing off his WarHorse. He lifted his visor as custom and said a cheerful 'Hello Milady.'

She flashed a grin at him as she retreated, and finally made it to the end of the staircase. She stopped and just stared at the old oak door, then lifting her hand; she pulled down the latch without touching. And lightly flicking her hand at the door it opened on its own accord. She walked in; dropping her skirts and flicked her hand again behind her, hearing the door shut and latch itself. She mournfully looked at the two beds.

In them, two aged and almost feeble magical people, one a wizard, whilst the other a witch, lay there. They both had grey hair and wrinkled pale skin. They were most popular now. They were Godric Gryffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff Gryffindor; her parents. Thinking back to when she had reached fifteen, the rightful age to marry she sighed.

Her parents had been so full of life, happily giving her hand to Sir Luke Gerald Potter, and their blessings. Her father had jokingly threatened to kill him if he pained his 'Beloved Daughter'. She had felt so humiliated, but Luke had laughingly joked with him about it for weeks. Until he had died from a dark spell. Widowed she had been lawfully given his possessions.

No one but she knew that she was pregnant with the heir of the Potters. She kneeled besides them and held her father's right and her mother's left hand. They breathed in wheezes and both looked at her. They knew that soon they'd die, but Gwendolyn wouldn't believe in it. Her father opened his mouth to talk, but a hacking cough came out.

Besides him, on the table, a basin of water sat. She dipped in an earthen cup, hurriedly and brought it to his grey-ish lips. He sipped it and waited a second or two before continuing.

"Gwen. We know that you know we are dying. And! Wait! Don't interrupt!

"Let me finish. We know as well. We want you to, for our last wish, not to mourn us, but live. For death 'tis but the next adventure. 'Twas hard for me, but I want you, not that blasted cousin Malfoy, to have Fawkes.

"I writ it on a parchment and 'tis unable to be ruined. Also it has everything we don't want given to others in the family and what you have. Having it though, may make you prosperous so keep that level head high and make sure you don't marry a marauder." Godric said, finishing with a catch of the breath.

"And dearie, we know your with child. 'Tis on your face. You glow with it. You're perfect for motherliness. But I want you too sever all contacts with e Malfoy's.

"'Tis also on the parchment. I am sorry to bring them into the family and Slytherin, as he is your eighth cousin and my seventh. But I do not want you to have any commerce with them. Let them wash out of the blood kin. But the good always prevail, remember!

"Now let us rest. I'm growing rather faint, and the air is a little harder to breathe." Her mother said with rather forced breath. She kissed each, bade her love and left wearily.

Within the night they died . . .

She did has her parents bided and had cut all contacts with the Malfoy's and the Slytherin's. They had happily allowed it to happen, but had let up a fuss about she having Fawkes, as a mere girl wasn't normally allowed such a creature. She had shown the parchment in pride and Fawkes, not even willing to go near the Malfoy kin, sat perched on her shoulder. They had left quickly after that, not bothering to say goodbye. The Slytherin's, never had she seen them in her life, didn't ask for anything.

She had a feeling that they held a grudge against her family for her father in his youth killing Salzar Slytherin.

Sighing she patted the large swell that was her womb. Smiling she hummed a little song as she made more preparations for the child. The Healers believed it to be a boy. Smiling she thought of how he would have his father's unruly locks. Every single Potter child had the messy hair.

It came from both sides of the family this time. Her father had messy hair as well, but she used a smoothing potion on her hair every night and morning.

"You little one, will have probably the messiest hair ever. Oh you'll be so handsome!" She praised baby-ish-ly. A few months later she did indeed have a son, and named him Luke after his father and Godric after her father. Luke Godric Potter at the right age soon became a squire and quickly a Knight, entering tournaments and the such for his land. He soon married a red headed maiden named Lady Catherine de Hendon.

Lady Gwendolyn, soon afterwards, gave two prophecies, and then later died of pneumonia…

~*~*~*~

Harry hurried back to his room with a piece of thick smoked ham. He had cut off a slice of it for he and Hedwig. She clicked her beak expectantly. He grinned.

"You don't think I would forget you did you? For shame Hed… You know you're always my number one Owl!" Harry praised, smiling and forgetting everything about his scar problems. She hooted in apology and Harry forgave her easily. He tore off a good sizeable chunk and set it in her food dish.

She quickly attacked it without manners at all. Harry turned his nose at that but sighed. She had had nothing to eat for a few days, similar to he himself. He ate his food much slower, only because he worried that he might not be able to keep it down. He sighed and went to sit at the window, thinking of his much more hidden scars, the ones that no one else could ever erase and give him back what he had lost.

The thing that could never ever come back. Tears slowly fell down his eyes as he thought of the first time it had happened. He had known at the beginning of the summer that Vernon had started losing clients and business. The Board of Directors finally figured that it was just Vernon's handle of reign so they fired him all together. The fat man had blamed him quickly even if rationally it couldn't have been Harry at all.

He had come home late, and drunk as a Jackass, and acting like one. He had given Harry the scar across his eye that night, and a few other bruises. Aunt Petunia hadn't even been in the room. Vernon had locked Harry's door and had beaten him up until Harry was close to unconsciousness. He had then started tearing off Harry's clothes, ripping and cutting them off.

Harry had fought as best he could, even if he knew in his mind what was happening wasn't going to be able to be stopped. He had been forced to turn around and lay on his stomach as his Uncle had pulled down his trousers. It had hurt like a thousand Crucio's and a million beatings. Harry's mouth before hand had been duck-tapped. His scream, though long and high, had been easily muffled.

He had buckled to try and throw Vernon off him but the second time he had blissfully been submitted into darkness. He had afterwards, filled in ten pages of his Injuries Journal with that night. It had only happened twice after that, and for that Harry was thankful. He hadn't been able to leave his room at all without his Uncle right next to him as a guard. Harry knew that he was probably more likely to die there than at the hands of Voldemort.

He wiped the tears away angrily, wondering why he couldn't just swallow his pride, no matter how stubborn he was, and send Hedwig for help. But of course, he couldn't do it. He couldn't admit that he, Harry Potter, couldn't stop a Muggle. Not one single Muggle. He growled in frustration. Soon, Harry you'll be at Hogwarts. Harry thought, trying to calm himself.

Which made his mind come back to the scar problems. He wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He looked over at Hedwig who looked sorrowfully back at him before tucking her head in her wing for a rest. Harry hadn't allowed Vernon to touch Hedwig. He was very protective of her and if Vernon even tried to open her cage to grab her Harry would launch himself at the fat, foolish swine, regardless of the consequences.

He had gotten many a bruise and cut from it, but he cared naught. He yawned and rested his head on the windowsill, not realising that he was being watched by a huge black dog, a tabby cat with strange markings on it's eyes, and a raven that looked like it was sneering all the time…

The window seemed to magically open itself and the raven flew inside. The tabby, running across the deserted road, climbed the tree in front of the window and jumped in. The dog, following the cat somehow, as dogs never climb tree's, climbed the tree and crawled through, careful not to jar the sleeping teenager. The animals, with a quiet pop changed into humans. Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Sirius Black stood in the small bedroom.

They stared, shocked at the teenager, taking in the bruises, cuts, and scars on his body. Sirius Black fixed a sneer on his face and fisted his hands.

"Damn those Dursley's!" He cursed venomously and looked murderously at the closed door, wishing that he could just this once, live up to his believed name. But thoughts of Harry kept him for doing so. Gritting his teeth his started packing Harry's meagre possessions. McGonagall went over to the teenager and started trying healing spells on him. It didn't work. He wasn't healing.

She turned to the not sneering Potions Master who's face looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Severus! You do have a potion right? My Healing Spell's aren't working! And it looks like he'll need it!" She said, bringing the man out of his reverie. He pulled out a beaker of a green potion and walked to the boy and held open his mouth, pouring the contents in the boy's mouth.

He coughed and sputtered, eyes widening open. He seemed to have been in the middle of a nightmare because he lifted his hands palms up and shot out a curse, wandlessly.

"Leave me alone! Please!" Harry shouted, loud enough to wake the neighbourhood. The Professor's raised up a shield for they and Sirius, barely protecting them from the curse. Harry fell from the chair, rolled into a protective ball, not even realising what he had done. "Please!

"Leave me alone tonight! I'll be good I swear!" Harry said, eyes tightly closed as he rocked back and forth. The Professor's and Sirius were shocked! Harry had never acted that way before. McGonagall raised her wand and placed a sleeping charm on him quickly.

Suddenly they felt more than heard the loud pounds of feet against hardwood floor, heading towards the door. Hedwig awoke in a hooting frenzy. The door burst open, barely falling off the hinges. Vernon Dursley stood in the doorway, a shade of the ugliest purple ever, and darkest for that matter.

"I WARNED YOU BOY! ABOUT WAKING ME UP! NOW YOUR GONNA GET IT—" He froze when seeing the three adult wizard's and witch. They all sneered and glared hatefully at the Muggle. Severus walked forward, the only one to do so since Sirius was being held back by Minerva. Vernon fearfully backed away.

"You did this to Potter? Like he was just a stress toy? We'll see how much you enjoy it when you go to Azkaban for a few years... In the Wizarding Prison it's different. Isn't it Black?" Severus said silkily and forcefully calm.

Sirius nodded in agreement.

"He should know. He was there for twelve years. Enough time to drive him insane. We should just let Black go Minerva… See the outcome.

"My bet's on Black, how 'bout you?" Severus lied smoothly. Minerva sharply nodded her head in agreement at what the Potion's Master said.

"I agree Severus. I wonder how many seconds it could be?" She said coldly, slightly releasing the mad man who was still fighting to get to Dursley.

"But, we can't allow that now… Minerva, you should take Harry now with Sirius. Use the Portkey. I'll Apparate." Severus said, not leaving room for complaints. Minerva nodded, pulling a bottle cap out of her pocket grabbing hold of Harry as well she opened her mouth.

"Hogwarts!" She shouted, much like as if you were to use Floo Powder. The three people disappeared without incident. Severus turned back to the now petrified Muggle. He pointed his wand at the man and grinned evilly. An evil grin that he hadn't used since his Death Eater days.

"Now," Severus spoke silkily. "The fun begins. Crucio!" Severus shouted…

Several hours later Severus started collecting Potter's things. The three Dursley's were all unconscious on the floor. He was about to leave when he uncovered a journal. Curious, he opened it up. It was a Diary of sorts.

After a few minutes of reading he paled. Flipping a few pages into the journal his eyes bulged basically out of his head. He shut the book with a snap and hurriedly waved his wand above his head, saying the Apparating spell and disappearing with a loud pop…