Chapter 3

It had been three weeks since Harry had found the egg, three weeks since Harry had discovered the silver and gold flowers that had bloomed on the weed.

Flashback

Harry groaned as he woke up to the sun shining in his eyes. He knew that he needed to get the Dursley's breakfast ready. He grumbled and reached for his glasses, not really wanting to move; it felt as if he had only five hours of sleep. He squeezed his eyes shut, glad that

Petunia, his so-called 'aunt', had let him sleep in. He was midway through putting on his glasses when it suddenly occurred to him that his aunt or anyone else living in the house, would never let him sleep in. Sadly, they took pleasure in tormenting him. Harry shoved his glasses onto his nose and scrambled to get dressed, ready with an excuse as to why he was still in bed and not cooking Dudley's breakfast. He stopped in his tracks when he realized that the source of light that had woke him was not coming from the sun, as he first thought, but from the box that held the weed. Harry stared at the glowing plant, his mouth agape. It no longer was a weed. The flowers that had seemed to bloom over night were silver and gold and glowing.

Harry was bewildered. Each of the flowers seemed to radiate its own light, and as Harry's gaze passed over them individually; each flower seemed brighter than the last. The same feeling Harry felt when he held the egg was with him as the light touched him. It was calling to him, pulling him toward the - whatever it was. As if being pulled by some invisible force, Harry slid off his bed and walked toward the plant. He held his right hand over the weed and hesitated; he wasn't sure this was a good idea. Shaking off his nervousness, he touched one of the leaves with the tip of his finger. The sensation that greeted him made him want to scream bloody-murder. The moment his finger touched the silver leaf, it felt as if all the blood in his hand was pulled to that one point in his finger. He whimpered when he felt four different types of magic shift in his mind, he tried to fight it but it was like trying to capture sunlight in a net. He felt it as the magic shifted through his mind and pulled all of his past memories, thoughts, feelings, and all his occurrences to the surface. Harry was forced to watch his life from the very beginning. He watched as his mother gave birth to him, as his father jumped for joy.

Harry tried to close his eyes to shut out the images but they just become sharper, clearer than before. He was forced to watch his whole life over again; his first birthday, his first word, his mother as she sang him to sleep, his father as he levitated him around the house, pretending he was flying. He watched as Sirius and Remus came over and played with him. Never once did he see Peter Pettigrew there, and for that he was glad. He didn't know how he would have reacted if he saw Wormtail there. And then he saw their deaths. He couldn't stop himself from watching, despite his best efforts. Voldemort killed his father, then went after his mother. He could hear her screaming, yelling at him to not to take Harry. Then there was a flash of green light and then nothing. He watched as Voldemort turned his wand onto him and utter the words, "Avada Kedavra." The spell raced toward baby Harry, and, instead of killing him like it was supposed to, it rebounded and struck Voldemort, leaving him in a pile of ashes.

Harry didn't realize he was crying it, and as tears fell from his face he watched the night he became the Boy-Who-Lived. He paid no attention to what was happening now; he felt too cold and empty inside.

It wasn't until he heard three voices that he realized that he wasn't alone, two of them were male and the other a female.

"Aahhh...Master cries for what he once had."

"Yes. Morns that he lives, does he wish to die still then?"

"No, he wants revenge, to kill the one that almost killed him, to avenge his parents. He has a good soul, pure; he carries great power, more than most, more than all, even. Master will become great and do great things."

The voices were familiar to Harry. They sounded as if they belonged to snakes, but unlike when he spoke with snakes, these voices pronounced their S's correctly, and their words didn't trail off as it did with snakes.

"He carries much on his shoulder, so much for one so young; he is strong in his own way, yet so very weak."

"Master is very strong, stronger then he knows, but you are right he is still young, and so he is still very weak. But then that is why we are here."

"He listens to us; he hears us and doesn't speak."

"He hears us, how is this possible?"

"His mind is more open than others, he believes while others continue to deny our existence."

"But..."

"Quite you! Do you not feel it; our presence in his mind is hurting him we must leave at once!"

"Ahhh... I hadn't noticed. As usual you see things we do not. We will leave."

"Agreed. We shall leave at once; we can't have our charge in pain because of us."

As Harry felt the voices presence leave he called out a thoughtless, "WAIT!" Harry felt the voices in his head pause; he could feel their emotions, their confusion.

"Yes, young master?"

Harry hesitated. When he called for them to wait he had no reason; he only knew that, despite the pain in his head, they comforted him, and he really didn't want them to leave.

"Who are you, what are you, why are you in my head?"

"Young master, we are many things, but at the same time we are nothing. When we are born, we will be a creature with three minds bout one soul bound to the one foretold. We are in your head because you called us; we search through your mind to judge you."

If Harry could see his own face at that moment, he was sure that one of his eyebrows would be raised in skepticism. "That sounds like another prophecy. I'm beginning to hate those things, there are too many for my liking. And as for calling you, I never called you, I don't even know how to call you, and why do you need to judge me?"

"Little one, one does not need to know how to call us to actually call us, they just need to need us and we will come." The voice of this one was female, soft yet strong, compelling. It was like listening to garden. He could hear the flowers as they danced in the breeze, the bees as they moved in and out of the garden, the leaves on the trees as the rustled in the wind, the grass as it hugged the earth, the rain as the droplets sang their music, and the sun as he drummed his heat beat. It was amazing.

"As for judging you, we had to decide if you were worthy enough." This voice was definitely male. It sounded young and mysterious. Strangely, it also sounded sort of like George and Fred when they were up to no good, but also like Sirius, like a favorite uncle. Harry was becoming more than curios about these voices.

"Worthy for what exactly?" he asked.

"As to whether or not you are worthy of us, we must know what kind of person is being granted the power we offer." An old, mature and strong male voice, greeted him. It was powerful but patient and it reminded Harry of a mountain. He felt so safe and secure just listening to it. "And we must leave because your mind cannot hold us any longer. If we stayed, you would go mad."

Harry felt their presence leave his mind, and he was abruptly thrown back into his world. He was still in his room, still barely touching one of the golden silver flowers. The only difference that he could detect was that it was now night outside when only minutes ago it was light. He was surprised to discover the tears streaking down his cheek. Drained, Harry stumbled to his bed and fell asleep, and for the first time since he got to the Dursley's, he slumbered without a single dream.

It had been three weeks since he had found that egg, three weeks since he had spoken to the voices, and three weeks later, it was now starting to hatch.