Chapter 1: Pain
'Dammit, this is getting to be too much,' a tired Harry Potter thought as he rubbed the aching scar on his forehead. It was another vision from Voldemort. Tonight he decided to torture a family. The two adults both had blonde hair and blue eyes, both beautiful people. They also had a daughter about five, Harry presumed. She also had blonde hair that was in pigtails and she had blue eyes. It was one of the worst things he had ever seen in his life. The Deatheaters raped the little girl in front of the sobbing parents, then put the girl under the Imperius Curse, and forced her to kill her prone parents that were tied up. They then removed the curse as the little girlplunged the knife into her mother as she had already killed her father. the girl stared horror struck at her dying mother, then, surprisingly slit her wrists and died painfully, as the Deatheaters would continually use a spell to replenish her blood for over an hour as the girl kept cut so much, she severed her tendons and couldn't flex her little fingers any more.
Harry felt all the pain at the same time. He felt the little girl being raped. He felt the parents' angst and helplessness at watching their daughter being raped. He felt the parents' horror as they watched their daughter walk towards them slowly with a knife in her hands, seemingly under a trance. He felt the little girl's horror at learning she killed her parents. Harry could also feel tingling in his own wrists as the strange feeling of actually being able to use his fingers.
Actually, Harry thought getting raped was the worst part. Not only did he feel it, but the humiliation that came with it. It disgusted him that the Deatheaters would do something as sick and sinister as that. Harry was a little happy he was able to keep his screams and moans to an almost silently murmur. He couldn't fathom the idea of the Dursley's getting a hold of his nightly tortures.
After the pain had died down a little, he got up to write Dumbledore a letter telling of the occurrences that night. Then he figured all of them were dead and that there was nothing he could do, so he forgot about writing the letter.
A funny thing happened since Voldemort took Harry's blood. Seeing that Voldemort was connected to the Deatheaters through the Dark Mark, and that Harry was connected through Voldemort by blood, Harry could now see the more horrific of the Deatheater attacks. He hardly saw Voldemort anymore, but he saw a Deatheater attack every night. Now that Harry thought about it, it really was not all that funny. The kicker was that the Deatheaters wouldn't leave the Dark Mark, so the Ministry thought it was a new crime ring or new Dark Lord about. That meant the Bumbling Oaf, or Minister Fudge to everyone else, still didn't believe Harry. Harry now figured that he could have manipulated Fudge after the Third Task, knowing that the story was a little hard to believe and Fudge still wouldn't have believed him if he would have brought Voldemort back himself to shake the minister's hand. He probably should have said that a new Dark Lord had risen with all of Voldemort's former Deatheaters with him. That might have got the ole' bungler in action. Probably not.
Harry figured that he should probably stay up the rest of the night... well morning since he could see the sun. Harry walked over to the window and watched the sunrise. He started to reflect on the summer he had. He now stood at 5'10" and put on some weight. He now weighed a hundred and forty even. He put on a little girth since Mrs. Weasley sent him healthy foods instead of his normal cakes and pastries. He was thankful that he took daily walks so his stomach didn't go round. It was probably the best thing about his summer so far. Morbid though it was, he enjoyed the chases he was in nearly every day after primary school Dudley put him through. He could almost see Little Harry being chased by Little Whale Dudley.
He finally got a haircut that he liked too. He asked his Aunt Petunia, the giraffe-horse mix of a person. Harry thought that you should not breed those two animals together. His aunt was thrilled that he wanted one. She was even a little impressed with the results, though she wouldn't tell the brat that. Knowing him, and she knew him like the back of his hand, she knew it would only make his ego bigger. Harry liked the haircut, not just because it was out of his eyes, but also because it made it look like his head was taller, therefore making Harry look taller. Not that Harry was vain or anything. He was very comfortable with his appearance seeing it looked like he wore an extra baggy skin suit to primary school everyday. Harry was just uncomfortable with his height. So any improvement was a good improvement.
Harry also studied a lot over the summer. Not by choice, but by the ultimatum the Dursley's gave him. Either he could do whatever he wanted (which Harry figured was a lie, and that consisted of him going outside to pull weeds), or he could be locked in the house with his school supplies. The Dursley's figured, like any normal teenage boy, he would vie for option A. Harry was no normal boy by wizarding or muggle standards, so he chose option B. He would have chosen option A if he didn't have a particularly shrewish Potions master. Harry didn't think pissing him off on the first class day would have been smart (but he usually did, whether it be his fault or not).
Harry now knew all grade books that he had been issued by heart, even the fifth year ones since Dumbledore thought he shouldn't leave the Dursley's premises unless he was in dire need to. Therefore, Harry got his whole fifth year texts for his birthday from Dumbledore. Oh, joy! Harry thought he shouldn't be so cynical of the gift. Mostpeople would be honored to receive as much as a piece of scratch paper from Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore also threw in a few books Harry enjoyed thoroughly. The New and Revised Qudditch Through The Ages and Elements.
Harry couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts now to try the last book out. He was interested in the element book because you didn't need a wand, it was hard, and you could travel through the element or elements you have. That meant no more running around Hogwarts and floo powder. The down side was, traveling was almost impossible and you had to know the exact location you wanted to go to, unlike apparating that you only needed a general area and you would go to the place that would be most acceptable for that person. However, if you had the right elements, you could also bring other people along with you. Harry found that he had three elements. The magic involved was so weak that it didn't attract the attention of the Ministry, causing him to be expelled. The three elements Harry had were Thunder, Myst, and Starlight.
Thunder was a complete offensive element. That meant he could only attack with it, no teleporting with it. He couldn't send lightning bolts at people, that would be Lightning, but he could attack with booming sound waves. It was also represented by a grayish color. You found your element and color by chanting the spell, and the name of your element would come from your head, telling you your element in the color.
The next element was Myst. It was represented by an emerald green and was a completely passive element. That meant he couldn't attack with the element, but could travel with it, and take an extraordinarily large amount of people with him. He got all the element information from the back of the book. Only four people in registered history had Thunder, two had Myst.
The tricky element was Starlight. It had no precedent information on it, meaning Harry was the first. An alarming bright white light, outlined in purple, represented it. That was the only way Harry figured out his element through his squinting eyes.
Harry was thinking, as he did so often about the particular topic of defeating Voldemort. So far, Harry could sympathize with his dislike of muggles. They both have lived with the worst kind. Harry had heard the tales Uncle Vernon would tell Harry when he was younger about the horrors of the orphanage, just to make Harry do his work. Harry figured now that Vernon was probably lying to get him to do Vernon's bidding, but still, Harry had heard some of the tales himself on the news.
Harry also knew that Voldemort wanted immortality, and that he practically succeeded once before. What if Harry became an immortal first though? The thought didn't make Harry happy at all. He wanted to see his parents again. If it were the only way to stop Voldemort though, he would do it. He figured Voldemort might get a little scared if he found out that there was another super power around the corner. Granted, Dumbledore was extremely powerful, but he said himself that he didn't have the powers Voldemort had. Harry just had to figure out where Voldemort kept his information on becoming an immortal. 'Ah, can't think right now, but it would have to be somewhere where only he could get to it, because he no doubt knows if one of his "loyal" Deatheaters got a hold of that information, he would go after being an immortal. I'll come back to that,' Harry thought as he heard a faint call for help from one of Dudley's gang new victims.
He quickly followed the sound and saw a small boy run past him, Mark, he thought. Some twenty yards away were Dudley's gang, doubled over after the strenuous chase. Harry merely shook his head at Dudley and flashed his wand before he took his gang to do what ever they did when not brutalizing younger kids.
Harry also realized Voldemort had an obsession with Hogwarts. Why, why, WHY? He has to have a reason for wanting Hogwarts so badly, besides turning it into a school for the Dark Arts. He could just build that anywhere. No, there has to be a reason. That was pretty much Dumbledore's stronghold for the light, and occupying that would pretty much destroy what little moral the people opposing Voldemort had. Well, he is also the heir to Slytherin. 'That's it! He wants into the Chamber of Secrets; probably because he is the only one to be able to get into it, and that is probably would be where his notes for becoming an immortal are.' Harry felt particularly proud with his deduction that would have madeHermione proud.
That brought a bittersweet thought to his brain. All his friends, Hagrid, and Sirius had all fussed and worried about him. It felt good at first that people cared for him, but it got a bit annoying when all Ron would talk about is not to blame himself for Cedric's death. Harry didn't. His scar hurt, therefore he couldn't push Cedric out of the way, and he didn't say the ill-fated words that sucked the life out of Cedric. Everyone who wrote him said exactly the same thing. Ginny even wrote him telling him, 'Harry, if you ever need to talk, I'll be there for you.' That made him laugh. He would talk to Sirius about something, not Ginny. He did feel a little grateful for her act of kindness; it was if he did want to talk to her, she would probably run in the opposite direction, blushing as if she was competing in a 'How Red is Your Tomato?' contest.
Sirius, and to a certain extent, Professor Lupin were the most helpful about his predicament. Sometimes they would send information on a particularly gruesome curse, or relate a story about the good ol' days as they put it. Harry really enjoyed those stories, and they likewise enjoyedHarry's. Harry's were a little more dangerous, and theirs were a little more humorous with only a little dash of suspense, mostly theirs boarderlined the events ofHarry's third year. Harry however got the notion that Sirius thought him more of his deceased best friend James than of him being his son. Of course Harry was uncertain of this fact as there only interaction was through written letters and could be interpretedany way.
For his birthday,everyone got him some kind of dealing with grief book, except Dumbledore, Sirius, and Hermione. Sirius got him a Pensieve, which he said, you'll be able to go back to the Third Task and see that it wasn't your fault,' which Harry thought, going back would just make his nightmares worse if he wasn't having visions about Deatheaters or Voldemort. That turned into his 'vision collector' as he dubbed it. The said thing was, when he went back to look at the Deatheaters more closely, he felt the pain all over again. Dumbledore wouldn't be too happy when he came back out, when he jumped in to look at the Deatheaters and there patterns.
Hermione's gift was by far the most thoughtful gift. It was like a snow globe, but instead when you would shake it up, up would get a mini qudditch game to watch. The glass orb was a little bigger than a softball, and you could select your favorite teams to play.
Harry was woken from his thoughts with a sharp knocking on his door, and a demand to make breakfast for his family. Harry shrugged it off and made his way downstairs to make his insufferable family breakfast with a spring in his step. For Harry now knew what he wanted to do when he grew up. He wanted to be an Immortal!
(AN: Howdy, y'all! I'm re-vamping this story. I'm taking somethings out, putting somethings in... all very hectic. No fears though, the plot is going to stay the same, but the chapters should be longer, less choppy, and no more inklings of romance unless I want to inject a little humor into the story. Also, this will probably be the longest Author's Note now, so you don't have to worry about that one. Also, the only real time you'll get an AN is if some review pisses me off or rubs me the wrong way (Starfreakazoid or whatever, this means you, I'll address you when I get to it), so don't because I like good, critical reviews, not some retard who thinks he knows about something, then makes a fool of themselves. I also began this story anew to correct any mistakes I made the first time around, sort of like practice for my college papers, so lemme know if I did a good job. BYE!)