Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. You should know, since if you are reading this, you're probably a fan.

Year 6th Hogwarts: The Year of Discovery

Chapter 1

You may sometimes find that the pieces of the past lie in the decisions of the future. The past is shaped by the future as the future is shaped by the past. The never-ending ouroboros: time…

            To say the most, Vernon Dursley of number four, Privet Drive may be right. In some ways, the scrawny, skinny boy that resided inside Mr. Dursley's ordinary house may be the source of some unstableness.

            Harry Potter was just a normal boy, by all appearances. He was also a wizard who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hated the summer vacation, loved school, and survived the killing curse: Avada Kedavra from the most feared Dark Wizard at the time at the age of one. But all of this surely did not explain the unstableness at number four, Privet Drive.

            Harry Potter was definitely the source of the unstableness at Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursleys' ordinary and normal little house. Uncle Vernon was pissed at Harry yet again. Aunt Petunia and Harry's porky cousin, Dudley cowered against the wall of the living room as Uncle Vernon stumbled around drunk carrying a baseball bat; last time, the two had been hit quite a lot as a drunken man did not have great aim. Harry Potter, the hero of the whole wizarding world, was currently running in and out of rooms trying to escape from Uncle Vernon's wrath. Yep, this household has problems.

            "BOY!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "You come here this instant."

            Yeah, right, Harry thought as he darted around a corner. As if I would come running to a big drunk bloke swinging a baseball bat around. He mastered the urge to yell at his uncle as that would give away his current location. Hearing Uncle Vernon approaching, Harry thought quickly.

            Where can I go? Where can I go? Oh damn. I'm dead. Just then, he spotted the laundry chute. Perfect! he thought. I'm saved. But before Harry had a chance to plunge down the chute into what he hoped was soft, albeit dirty clothes, a loud bang echoed throughout the house. Harry heard Aunt Petunia's high, shrill scream.

            At first, Harry thought that Uncle Vernon had hit a wall again. He tried to turn away from the sound. Harry kept reminding himself over and over again, Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity killed the cat, but it was no use. He just had to investigate. Cautiously, Harry quickly darted around a corner, then making sure that the coast was clear, darted around another one and took a shortcut through the kitchen into the living room.

            What he saw almost petrified him. Fortunately, he was still able to step into the kitchen and hid there peering around the wall. Harry gave a sigh of relief. He was not seen. In the living room, Uncle Vernon was lying stunned on the ground in the middle of the living room. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still cowering against the wall behind the sofa, clearly paralyzed with shock. A cloud of dust settled slowly over the spacious room, remnant of the door that had been blasted open by the Death Eaters that were now standing near the shoe rack in a group.

            Harry had time to wonder why he had not heard a cry of, "Stupefy!" before one of the Death Eaters began to speak. Harry recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy. So, he thought, Azkaban must have been broken. I should have renewed my subscription of the Daily Prophet.

            "Nice house," Malfoy drawled, the sarcasm evident in his cold voice, "Although it is a little small, don't you think? But of course," he continued, seeing the confused look on Aunt Petunia's face, "I am not here for idle chitchat, no. I would've knocked. Now, down to business. Where is Potter?"

            Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still too scared and intimidated by these cloaked wizards to speak.

            "Dammit! Tell me where Potter is, NOW!" Malfoy ordered. "Fine, you have forced me, Muggle! Severus! Bring the truth serum." One of the Death Eaters shuffled up front, his head down. With a start, Harry realized that this was Snape, and he was holding a vial filled with a clear liquid. "Ah, yes," Lucius Malfoy continued. "Yes. Do you know what this is, Muggle?"

            Aunt Petunia shook her head.

            "Of course you do not. This is Veriteserum, the most powerful truth serum in the world. And this will bring me some of the answers that my master wants."

            At his words, Harry felt that he had waited long enough. If he was to make an appearance, it would be now, for Malfoy would be able to get it out of the Dursleys anyways. In the back of his head, Harry wondered if he should have just run for it, but he blocked that thought. He was going to face those Death Eaters; he was not going to be intimidated by them. If anything was going to make his decision final, though, it was the next Death Eater who spoke. The voice was familiar to Harry; it was the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange, the one who had killed Sirius.

            Harry stepped out of the shadows into the living room. All of the heads turned, Aunt Petunia and Dudley included. "Were you looking for me?" Harry asked. Crash! The vial of Veriteserum had dropped through Snape's hands. No one noticed except Harry, though. Everyone else was focused on him.

            "Yes we were, in fact," Malfoy sneered. He had recovered from shock first. Harry glanced at Aunt Petunia: her mouth was silently moving and her eyes were wide with surprise. Harry's wand was halfway up when Malfoy cried, "Expelliarmus!" and Harry's wand soared out of his hand. "Not so confident now, hmm, Potter?"

            Wandless and in the presence of Death Eaters that could kill him with two words, Harry was, in fact, feeling very unconfident. But he was not about to let the servants of Voldemort know that. "So you've disarmed me. What now? Are you going to put the Cruciatus Curse on me? What about the Imperious? Or are you going to kill me?"

            "Oh, we can't kill you, Potter. We would, except that the Dark Lord wishes to kill you personally. Be proud, you have earned the right to be killed by our great Master himself. The Imperious curse would be a useless waste of time since you can throw it off easily. But the Cruciatus Curse is possible…"

            "Please, Lucius. Allow me," Bellatrix Lestrange interrupted. "I must teach him how it's done. If you must know, he actually tried to put it on me. Almost succeeded, in fact."

            "Potter has used an Unforgivable Curse?"

            "Yes. I would've never believed it if I hadn't been the victim."

            "Well, then certainly, you may be the first to torture Potter."

            "Thank you, Lucius. Now, Potter," Bellatrix continued, now turning to face Harry, "Prepare yourself for the most pain you will ever feel in your life."

            Harry inwardly prepared for the pain of the curse and said, "Unfortunately, I've already felt the Cruciatus Curse from your beloved master, Lord Voldemort."

            All the Death Eaters flinched. "What?" Harry continued. "He's mates with all of you. Not scared of him, are you?"

            Silence reigned within the house. "Do it now, Bella," Malfoy said at last.

            "Crucio!"

            It was pain that Harry had only felt once before. It was like white hot knives burning into his flesh, and as he writhed and screamed on the ground, he wished with all his might that it would just end, that the pain would stop. And as he thought this, he blacked out.

~ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ~

            Harry groaned. He opened his eyes slowly and immediately saw the white walls of a place he had seen many times before, the Hogwarts hospital wing. Could he be in Hogwarts? How?

            "Quick, come here. I think he's awake." Who was that? Who's talking? It didn't sound like Madam Pomfrey.

            Harry heard the sound of scurrying footsteps. He groaned again. He tried to turn his head, but found that he couldn't for some strange reason. In fact, Harry found out that he couldn't move any part of his body. Am I paralyzed? he thought.

            "No. You're not paralyzed."

            "What? Can you read minds or something?" Harry asked.

            "Yeah," came the blunt response from somewhere to Harry's left.

            "Oh stop playing with him, Salazar," someone to Harry's right spoke. "He can't read minds. Can you?"

            "Yeah, I can."

            "It was a rhetorical question. You can't."

            "Can." 

            "Can't."

            "Can."

            "Can't."

            "PROVE IT."

            Harry heard the sound of a chair scraping on the floor. The second man had gotten up. Another sound, and the first man was up.

            "WHY DON"T YOU PROVE IT? YOU'RE THE ONE GOING ON ABOUT HOW YOU CAN READ MINDS. GO ON. WHAT AM I THINKING RIGHT NOW?"

            "WELL, TELL ME HOW ELSE I ANSWERED THE BOY WHEN I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HE WAS THINKING."
            "HE WAS MUMBLING WHAT HE WAS THINKING."

            "Oh. Good point."

            Salazar, Salazar. Where had I heard that name before? Harry thought. His thoughts were all jumbled in his head and his confusion only increased.

            "Stop it, you two. You are acting like three-year-olds." This speaker was a woman that was also to Harry's right.

            "Why three? Why not two, or one, or ten?" Salazar's voice floated over Harry.

            "That's enough. Free him of the binding spell now!"

            "As you wish, milady," Salazar said sarcastically.

            Instantly, Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. He turned his head to his right. There, beside the bed he was laying on, was a man and a woman seated in different chairs. Harry realized that the man must have sat back down after his row with Salazar, whoever he was.

            The man smiled and rose from his seat. "See, Salazar," he puffed proudly. "The boy prefers me to you. He turned to me first."

            The man named Salazar snorted. Harry turned his head to look at him. "Yeah?" Salazar sounded dubious. "And how would he know that it was you he was turning to and not me? It could've been a mistake."

            "His subconscious knew."

            "That's quite enough," came the stern voice of the woman. "Godric, Salazar, act your age."

            Despite being in a room filled with strangers that could be dangerous, Harry couldn't suppress a grin. Those three reminded himself of Ron, Hermione, and himself.

            "You see," came the woman's voice. "He's even laughing at you."

           Harry made to sit up, but his whole body ached. The woman pushed him back down gently. "There, there," she said. "Lay back down. You're hurt really badly. Meanwhile, why don't you ask us some questions? You must be dying for answers."

            In fact, Harry was dying for answers. The only problem was that he wanted to know so much that he didn't know where to start. He decided on the obvious question, "Why don't you tell me what you know?" Although it sounded rude to him, Harry did not know what else to do.

            "Well, that's a good question, I suppose. When in doubt, go with the obvious question," said the woman. "I guess I should start then. I am Rowena Ravenclaw and those two losers over there are Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. I daresay you've heard of them?"

To Be Continued…

Wizard

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