Disclaimer: Even though you think that I came up with the characters of Harry Potter, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 1

A point in time and space

The three Fate sisters stared dreamily at the four silvery figures before them. In one, monotonous voice they intoned, "Do you, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Griffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff agree to travel to your past world in order to train and aid one Harry Potter in defeating the evil Voldemort?"

"We do."

"And in doing so," the sisters continued, "do you agree to tell Harry Potter of his real parentage and bring him out of his current time to your own past time for one year to train him?"

"We do."

The Fates opened their mouths once more. "Do you agree to love and care for Harry Potter as it is necessary to defeat Voldemort?"

"Of course we do! What kind of people do you think we are!" Godric burst out, then covered his mouth as the oldest sister's unfocused eyes suddenly sharpened on him.

Salazar's mouth turned in a smirk.

"Then you, Founders of Hogwarts, put your hands together, and say Spirito transportismo!"

Four hands were clasped together as four mouths cried in one voice…

The Dursley residence; a week after the beginning of summer vacation

Sweat poured down his back as Harry Potter, resident boy wizard, crouched outside his relatives' home, trimming the hedges. His neck and face were neatly sunburned, turning a ripe red. His aunt had refused him the use of sunblock, claiming that Harry's work was not that hard, and he shouldn't need it. Harry rolled his eyes tiredly as he pictured his aunt's horse-like face set in a scowl.

"This summer's not going to be pretty," he thought to himself.

Due to problems at work, Vernon Dursley's temper had risen and his self-control had vanished. He often looked for a target to vent his anger on. Harry was small for his age, defenseless, and a useless burden to the family. Bingo!

His uncle had started to use Harry as his punching bag every night as he decided that Harry's work on his chores was always 'unsatisfactory.' Harry now sported a broken wrist, a dislocated shoulder, and numerous bruises on his body. Luckily his injured wrist and shoulder were both on his left side, so he was still able to work.

In addition, Harry's food rations had grown smaller and smaller. Dudley had been forced to diet when he went to school; so during the summer, he was eating everything in sight, gaining even more than before the diet. Aunt Petunia gave him as much as he wanted, claiming that his heavy bulk was still too skinny for her and that her baby had been starved. Harry, therefore, only got the leftovers of Dudley's voracious appetite, if there were any leftovers at all.

Coupled with his scant rations, Harry had also been experiencing vivid dreams, courtesy of Voldemort. He watched every night as families were tortured with repeated Cruciatus. He himself felt each Cruciatus cast, and thus often had shaking hands and limbs. Each night, he felt himself scream his throat raw. After each vision, he had Vernon's beating to look forward to. His uncle would hit him repeatedly, yelling "Shut up! You're the reason we never get any sleep around here! You freak!" Harry would then curl himself into a ball and try to get some sleep for the few remaining hours.

He missed Hedwig so much. He had forced Hermoine to take the snowy owl and told both her and Ron not to mail him because of his uncle. Hermoine looked at him and took the owl wordlessly, as if she understood.

As the sun slowly went down, Harry put his garden tools in the shed and went inside the house to wash the windows. He now looked as skinny as a scarecrow, emphasized by Dudley's enormous hand-me-downs. As he washed the windows, he thought of Sirius, falling through the veil. The first week after Hogwarts had been horrible; he had felt drowned in guilt, sadness, and anger. He blamed Dumbledore, Snape, himself most of all for being so stupid. But he soon realized that nothing would be helped by wallowing in self-pity, so he focused on one thing—revenge. He would take revenge for Sirius, for his parents, for Cedric, for the Longbottoms, and for all the other victims of Voldemort. Every night Harry practiced clearing his mind; it didn't seem to change his visions, but for now, at least it was something.

The sound of the back door slamming shut made his head jerk up in alarm. His green eyes stared in resignation as the familiar figure of a very angry Vernon Dursley stomped into the house. Harry smelled the strong scent of alcohol. 'Great. He's drunk.'

"Boy!" the oversized man bellowed. "Why haven't you finished the windows? You're lazy and incompetent! We give you a home, food, and clothing, and you can't even finish the chores!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right," he thought sarcastically, "Food and clothes."

The action angered Vernon, as his face turned a nice shade of purple. He stalked towards Harry, his hand upraised. Harry watched as a giant fist slammed into the side of his face.

"Don't roll your eyes at me freak!" Vernon yelled. "No one disrespects Vernon Dursley and gets away with it!"

His hand closed around the front of Harry's shirt—that is, Dudley's shirt. Harry felt himself being lifted slowly off the ground.

"Strange," said a voice in his head, "I never thought of him as being strong, and yet he's lifting me up effortlessly with one arm. But I guess I have lost a lot of weight this summer." He stared up into his uncle's crazed eyes, keeping his face emotionless.

He couldn't, however, keep a cry from ripping out of his throat as Vernon slammed him into the wall. He heard a crack as he felt his leg break. He slid to the ground, landing on his injured shoulder. Harry felt detached as he saw his uncle kick his ribs and stomach repeatedly. Everything was closing in on him. The last thing he felt was being dragged up the stairs and tossed into his room as Vernon yelled, "No supper for you tonight, freak!"

A point in time and space

"Spirito transportismo!"