A/N: Well here it is, the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize here, the credit for that goes to J.K. Rowling.
/These are Harry's thoughts/
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Chapter 2: Echoes From the Past
Harry sullenly followed his Aunt down the stairs, feeling the cold sweat start do break out on his forehead. One question was whizzing through his mind. /What did I do? Oh God, what did I do?/
"In there," His aunt told him, pointing toward the kitchen. Harry could see the cold smile on her face and shuddered. Trying to control the shaking of his knees, Harry took a deep breath and walked in. Just as he suspected his Uncle was there, currently with his back to him, looking at something in his hands. Harry tried desperately to see what his Uncle was studying so studiously, but Harry just couldn't see past the bulk. He decided just to remain quiet and put his punishment for whatever he did farther off, but after a couple minutes of silence Harry started to wish for something to relieve the pressure.
Finally, after several minutes that seemed more like hours to Harry, his Uncle turned to face him, his face a bright strangled purple and a vein was pulsing up by his temple, but Harry wasn't noticing that, for he know could see what his uncle had been studying. It was a Hogwart's letter. Harry immediately felt cold, one of the first things his uncle had told him after he had gotten off the bus at the end of his school year was a whispered threat of how he was never going to see Hogwarts and his friends again, and more than once Harry wondered if it was his Uncle that had been stopping his letters. Now that was pretty much confirmed seeing that parchment in his Uncle's hands. /How has he been getting my letters?! No wonder no one has wrote to me! He has probably been burning them the second they got here! But how?/ Fear quickly turned to anger and hate.
"That is my letter. Give it to me." Harry struggled hard to hold on to his icy calm, but the words were hissed through clenched teeth. His uncle barked a laugh.
"Your letter, boy? Nothing is yours. Don't you think for one minute that you own anything in this house." His Uncle sneered deeply. Vaguely Harry was reminded of Professor Snape, but he pushed that thought back ruthlessly.
"Oh, are you saying that you went down to Diagon Alley and bought those spe- " Harry was cut off with his uncle's merciless laughter.
"I thought you knew," He wheezed out between the now gales of laughter. "We BURNED those things the minute you were back locked in your room." Vernon was now wiping tears from his eyes. Harry dropped to his knees. He felt empty. /He did what?! All my schoolwork!/ Then one thought hit Harry that made him want to scream and cry at the same time. /The album. My parents photo album, Oh God, tell me he didn't burn that!/ Hate filled Harry as he never remembered it. All these things that have been happening since that night at the ministry, at first it had been like walking through some sort of nightmare, but now all of the facts were coming back and hitting him hard. Constantly watching his back since returning, placing his footing with much care, the constant whispered threats and hideous promises, the often beating, Sirius falling through the veil, Sirius dead. The last two hit Harry hard and he snarled with anger. His Uncle who had been looking down at him and smirking with satisfaction, took a step back and his smirk faltered. Harry stood up, he felt the rage blaring through him, strengthening him, nourishing him, making him feel alive. Vernon now looked at him through startled eyes, and a small voice in a part of Harry that was still aware wondered what his uncle was startled by.
"Give me the letter." Harry felt the air around him snap and crackle and he felt as though his eyes were burning, not with unshed tears but with sheer power. His uncle made a small squeaking sound and the letter fell out of his limp hand. Harry went to pick up the letter but stared in shock when the parchment burst into emerald green flames where his fingertips had just brushed the letter. He stared at the ashes for a moment longer, before making a rough growl and stamping back up the stairs with a fierce glare at his cousin Dudley who had been eavesdropping outside the door. Back inside his room Harry pushed the door shut with his hip and looked around the dingy room. Just as quick as it came the rushing power dropped off, and Harry dropped to the floor like a wrung out rag. As if through a fog Harry heard half familiar words echo back to him.
"Only One Can Survive" With that there was a burning on the palm of his left hand. The pain was immense and Harry cried out. After several agonizing moments the pains receded with nothing but a consistent sharp throb. The blackness surrounded the fogginess and Harry drifted out into it.
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A/N: Okay, I know it is still very short, but I am working on it. A HUGE thank-you to my three reviewers: Steffi Snape, Jaximillion, and angel74
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize here, the credit for that goes to J.K. Rowling.
/These are Harry's thoughts/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2: Echoes From the Past
Harry sullenly followed his Aunt down the stairs, feeling the cold sweat start do break out on his forehead. One question was whizzing through his mind. /What did I do? Oh God, what did I do?/
"In there," His aunt told him, pointing toward the kitchen. Harry could see the cold smile on her face and shuddered. Trying to control the shaking of his knees, Harry took a deep breath and walked in. Just as he suspected his Uncle was there, currently with his back to him, looking at something in his hands. Harry tried desperately to see what his Uncle was studying so studiously, but Harry just couldn't see past the bulk. He decided just to remain quiet and put his punishment for whatever he did farther off, but after a couple minutes of silence Harry started to wish for something to relieve the pressure.
Finally, after several minutes that seemed more like hours to Harry, his Uncle turned to face him, his face a bright strangled purple and a vein was pulsing up by his temple, but Harry wasn't noticing that, for he know could see what his uncle had been studying. It was a Hogwart's letter. Harry immediately felt cold, one of the first things his uncle had told him after he had gotten off the bus at the end of his school year was a whispered threat of how he was never going to see Hogwarts and his friends again, and more than once Harry wondered if it was his Uncle that had been stopping his letters. Now that was pretty much confirmed seeing that parchment in his Uncle's hands. /How has he been getting my letters?! No wonder no one has wrote to me! He has probably been burning them the second they got here! But how?/ Fear quickly turned to anger and hate.
"That is my letter. Give it to me." Harry struggled hard to hold on to his icy calm, but the words were hissed through clenched teeth. His uncle barked a laugh.
"Your letter, boy? Nothing is yours. Don't you think for one minute that you own anything in this house." His Uncle sneered deeply. Vaguely Harry was reminded of Professor Snape, but he pushed that thought back ruthlessly.
"Oh, are you saying that you went down to Diagon Alley and bought those spe- " Harry was cut off with his uncle's merciless laughter.
"I thought you knew," He wheezed out between the now gales of laughter. "We BURNED those things the minute you were back locked in your room." Vernon was now wiping tears from his eyes. Harry dropped to his knees. He felt empty. /He did what?! All my schoolwork!/ Then one thought hit Harry that made him want to scream and cry at the same time. /The album. My parents photo album, Oh God, tell me he didn't burn that!/ Hate filled Harry as he never remembered it. All these things that have been happening since that night at the ministry, at first it had been like walking through some sort of nightmare, but now all of the facts were coming back and hitting him hard. Constantly watching his back since returning, placing his footing with much care, the constant whispered threats and hideous promises, the often beating, Sirius falling through the veil, Sirius dead. The last two hit Harry hard and he snarled with anger. His Uncle who had been looking down at him and smirking with satisfaction, took a step back and his smirk faltered. Harry stood up, he felt the rage blaring through him, strengthening him, nourishing him, making him feel alive. Vernon now looked at him through startled eyes, and a small voice in a part of Harry that was still aware wondered what his uncle was startled by.
"Give me the letter." Harry felt the air around him snap and crackle and he felt as though his eyes were burning, not with unshed tears but with sheer power. His uncle made a small squeaking sound and the letter fell out of his limp hand. Harry went to pick up the letter but stared in shock when the parchment burst into emerald green flames where his fingertips had just brushed the letter. He stared at the ashes for a moment longer, before making a rough growl and stamping back up the stairs with a fierce glare at his cousin Dudley who had been eavesdropping outside the door. Back inside his room Harry pushed the door shut with his hip and looked around the dingy room. Just as quick as it came the rushing power dropped off, and Harry dropped to the floor like a wrung out rag. As if through a fog Harry heard half familiar words echo back to him.
"Only One Can Survive" With that there was a burning on the palm of his left hand. The pain was immense and Harry cried out. After several agonizing moments the pains receded with nothing but a consistent sharp throb. The blackness surrounded the fogginess and Harry drifted out into it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Okay, I know it is still very short, but I am working on it. A HUGE thank-you to my three reviewers: Steffi Snape, Jaximillion, and angel74