Unofficial Portkey Archive

(A/N: Dear friends, finally here is the awaited sequel of "Secrets from the Past". I thank you so much for your kind reviews! I have to apologize for being so slow in publishing, but I needed to gather my ideas during the past months. I just wanted to inform you that, I'm going to re-publish the whole story, but I won't change anything of the original. I just would like to refresh the interest of the readers. As usual, I'd like to thank my wonderful BETA readers SarahLupin and IronChefOr, for their great, great help. I hope you'll enjoy it, but I'll be glad to read any kind of review you'd like to leave me!)

SECRETS FROM THE FUTURE
by Petronilla

Summary: WRITTEN BEFORE HBP - Awaited sequel of SECRETS FROM THE PAST! Seventh year at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione are a couple now, but the arrival of a new, mysterious Gryffindor student will bring a lot of problems to their love relationship. Meanwhile, the war in the magical world is becoming more and more bloody. Voldemort has got a perfect plan in his mind, in order to destroy his mortal enemy and win the war, and the plan is, pulling away each one of Harry's friends, one by one. Will Harry be able to master his Seer powers and invert his destiny? Read and find out...

Charter 1. LOVE OWLS

Another sultry summer day was coming to an end. The roofs of all the houses on Privet Drive glowed with the golden light of the sunset. It was as if the perfection and serenity of the neighborhood couldn't be disrupted by anyone or anything, not even by the dry weather which had managed to transform the previously luxuriant green lawns, making them arid and dry.

Just like every other evening, all of the people living there had finally gathered around their dinner tables, in their perfect kitchens, in their perfect houses, ready to eat a simple but nourishing meal, some maybe watching the telly. The only thing on their minds was worrying about having to water their lawns enough the next day.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the atmosphere at number 4 Privet Drive, where the Dursley family lived. In their house, a gloomy atmosphere of silent worry could be felt, even though not one of them had the courage to express their thoughts on the matter.

Ever since Harry Potter had returned home a week earlier, his aunt and uncle hadn't spoken a single word to him. However, even they (two pretty stubbornly-Muggle Muggles) had the feeling that there was something serious happening. "You can't tell me that all those gas leaks and accidents in the last couple months have just all been a coincidence. There's something strange going on..." Harry's uncle, Mr. Vernon Dursley, tossed a nervous glance in Harry's general direction. "Too strange..."

The war in the magical world had begun; the attacks of the Darkness Army led by Lord Voldemort had become bloodier in the last couple months, even in the Muggle world. For once, Harry agreed with his uncle. Even though there had been no sight of Dark Marks around these "accidents" after the first attack on London before Christmas, Harry knew it the timing of it all was a little too coincidental. He feared that these were just warm-ups for what was to come.

Above all, Mr. Vernon Dursley feared for his family's safety... for his wife Petunia and his son Dudley, that is. But what about Harry? No, Mr. Vernon Dursley didn't worry about his nephew. If it wasn't for his wife, he would have already sent that annoying boy with his freaky powers out of his house.

That evening, as they did every evening, the Dursleys had just finished their dinner and were now trying to relax, sitting on the sofa in front their huge television. Harry was trying to finish cleaning the kitchen, as they had ordered him to do.

A thin boy, not particularly tall, with ruffled black hair and deep green eyes behind a pair of round glasses, Harry was wearing a worn pair of jeans, a extra large faded T-shirt, and dirty trainers. If they didn't know him, nobody could have ever guessed that he was one of the most famous wizards in the world. As famous as Harry was the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, an unforgettable reminder of his personal fight against all that was evil in the wizarding world.

On the news that evening, there was nothing particularly ominous, nothing that could be connected to a Death Eater attack: a suspicious kidnapping, bombing attempt, or the like. Nevertheless, Harry wasn't able to relax; he knew all too well that Voldemort's diabolical plans included spreading terror and fear everywhere, spreading it in subtle ways so that nobody could feel safe anymore.

On the TV at that particular moment was a funny show that should have provided a bit of amusement to most carefree people. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, however, were still staring the screen seriously. Meanwhile, Harry, standing by the sink, was sneaking glances at the TV from behind their backs.

Harry was now quite accustomed to being considered worthless in that house, but in all honesty he didn't care about it anymore. That particular evening, however, he had noticed a rather unfriendly tension directed against him.

Harry thought that the only sensible thing to do was to keep quiet and stay calm, and then try to slip away before someone had the idea to talk to him. He had just finished cleaning and was already stealthily heading to the door when Uncle Vernon called him back with his deep voice.

"Come here, boy!"

Harry froze, his hand on the doorknob and one foot in the hallway; he sighed deeply and turned on his heels. Resigned, he went over to the sofa and stopped directly in front of the TV, evoking a disappointed grunt from his cousin Dudley.

"Hey, get out of the way!" Since Harry hadn't moved from in front of the TV yet, Dudley started leaning left and right, trying to watch the TV, his huge belly undulating like a large Jell-O mold. Despite his mother's best efforts to keep him on a diet, young Dudley had gained so much weight during the last year that he was almost as fat as his father, himself was not unlike a small whale.

Harry kept his cool and moved a few steps to the side, patiently waiting. Uncle Vernon then spoke to him, not lifting his gaze from the screen. "Something arrived for you. And as usual, one of those flea-ridden birds of yours delivered it here!"

"W-what? You mean that I've got mail? But when?" Harry asked, rather upset. How was it possible that he didn't notice the arrival of an owl addressed to him?

"Um… a couple days ago," replied Uncle Vernon absentmindedly.

"A couple days ago?" Harry emphasized each word, raising the tone of his voice. "Why are you only telling me about it now? It could've been something important!"

"Lower your voice when you're talking to me, boy!" Uncle Vernon scolded him, glaring directly into Harry's eyes. "I don't know the absurd reason why that stinking animal didn't fly directly to your room! By the way, I've already told you a thousand times that I won't stand anymore of those filthy creatures in my house!"

"Vernon? The neighborhood..." Aunt Petunia spoke, barely moving her thin lips. With her little hand, she grabbed her husband's large arm, trying to make him lower his voice. Uncle Vernon looked around warily, as if fearing that in that exact moment someone might be spying on them from outside the window.

Harry rolled his eyes and decided to stop the conversation there. "Can I have my letter, now?" he cut them off insistently; they frowned at him with deep scorn.

Then, Uncle Vernon turned to his son. "Give it to him!"

Slowly, Dudley slipped his huge hand into his jeans' back pocket and took out a small envelope with a sneer on his face. "Harry's got a girlfriend! Harry's got a girlfriend! I'm sure she's out of her mind to be with someone like you!" Dudley teased his cousin, as he waved the open envelope in front Harry's nose.

Harry's eyes widened and he felt his blood boiling. "You read my mail?" he shouted, snatching the letter away from Dudley's hands and glaring at his uncle.

"I told you to lower your voice! It's our right to read your mail. Since you're staying in our house, we have to know what sort of mischief you're getting into behind our backs!"

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANY RIGHT TO READ IT! YOU DIDN'T..." Harry felt like a time bomb, ready to explode at any minute. His heart was beating furiously and his hands were trembling in anger.

"Didn't you hear your uncle? He just told you to lower your voice!" Aunt Petunia scolded him again in her acute voice. "Besides, it's inappropriate to get mail from a girl!"

Harry's anger was now changing into indignation. How could they dare read Hermione's letter, when it was addressed to him?

"This is something personal! If I ever catch you reading my mail again, you're going to regret it!" Harry hatefully threatened them. He then ran away abruptly, slamming the door as he left the kitchen. He was already climbing the stairs two at a time when he heard his uncle shouting from the hallway.

"Harry Potter! If you don't show us some respect, I'll throw you out of this house! I'll not even leave you the time to gather your things! Understood?"

Biting his lip, Harry locked himself in his room. He then went over to his bed and heavily stretched out on it, breathing deeply to calm down.

They've crossed the line this time! he kept repeating to himself. Once I'm of age, I'm leaving this house and never coming back!

He needed some time to relax again before he could concentrate on Hermione's letter; when he managed to calm down, he opened the envelope and read the contents.

Dear Harry,
I hope you're fine and that you've already started your homework. I don't think we'll be able to meet before the new school year starts. Anyway, I wish you all the best for your summer holidays.

Greetings, Hermione.

Harry read and reread those few lines several times, wondering the reason for such a cold attitude toward him. Just a week ago when they has last seen each other, it looked like there was something deeper between them. Hermione had remained by his side in the most difficult moment of his life; she had even told him that she loved him.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Harry said abruptly, rising from the bed. He took his wand out of his jeans' pocket and pointed it at the parchment, whispering "Aparecium!"

In a second, those few hurriedly written lines disappeared and the real content of the parchment appeared. Harry smiled, feeling a comforting warmth in his heart. Satisfied, he then stretched again on the bed and quietly read his girlfriend's long letter.

"DEDICATED TO YOU

Thinking about all the things that happened last year, I've realized that nothing will be the same from now on. First of all, I won't be the same! During your illness, I had time to think and have come to the following conclusion: the people we love are the most important things in life. I don't want to waste a single minute with useless things that take me from the ones I love.

I want to dedicate myself to being happy with the ones I love: Mum, Dad, and of course you! Maybe that means fewer trips to the library (don't think you're getting out of your homework though, Mr. Potter!), and maybe that means S.P.E.W. gets put on hold until Voldemort is defeated (don't tell Ron, he'd never let me live it down!). What good are books and cleverness if there's no love in your heart? Do you think I'm a silly little girl for thinking this? I hope not!

I received an owl from Ron last night. He mentioned something about going to visiting Luna! Those two are so lucky to live close to each other. Honestly, I miss you so much and I hope we can meet soon.

I hope that your aunt and uncle won't be too awful to you! Hold on to the thought that holidays won't last forever...

PS: I'm sending this letter with a new owl my father recently bought in Diagon Alley. It doesn't seem to me to be all that clever and I worry that it won't be able to reliably deliver this letter. That's why I had to think of a good way to not let any nosy Muggles read it. Did you like my trick? Since you're almost of age, I don't think that you're going to be in trouble for using a Revealing Charm on this letter. Anyway, to be sure, I asked Dumbledore's permission first!"

Hermione, you're great! Harry said to himself, jumping out of his bed and heading to his desk to grab a quill and ink and some parchment. He then sat back down on his bed and thought for a few seconds before starting to write.

"My dear Hermione..." Harry stopped and read those three words several times; he decided that it was a bit too mushy, so he crumpled the parchment nervously and took out a new one.

"Hermione..." He wasn't happy with that either; he threw away the second parchment and took out a third one.

"Dear Hermione..." Finally, this seemed OK; it wasn't too intimate, but not too formal, so he went on writing.

"I'm sorry for the delay in answering you, but my aunt and uncle have been horrible to me once again. Let's just say that your owl delivered your letter to the wrong person, as you feared!

Ron wrote to me as well. He sent me Pig to say that he's fine. He also mentioned he `might' go visit Luna. Those two are a really nice couple."

Harry stopped for a moment to think; there was something else he hadn't written to Hermione yet, and he wasn't sure if he could do it or not. Since he had returned to Privet Drive, terrible nightmares had disturbed almost all of his nights, making it impossible for him to sleep very well. It would have been pointless to worry Hermione any more than necessary, so he decided not to mention it in his letter.

"Well, I think I've wrote a bit of everything, now it's your turn. Please reply soon, it's dead boring here!

Yours, Harry."

Harry read the letter several times, changing a few words here and there. When he was satisfied with it, he waited until night and attached the parchment to Hedwig's leg, who was anxiously clawing her perch, eager to fly. Afterwards, Harry stretched back out on his bed again with his arms behind his head and gazed out toward his owl's white profile, which was darting out in the dark. When Hedwig became smaller than a star at the horizon, Harry turned to stare at the ceiling, not switching on his light.

After a long hot day, he liked the dark, breathing in the fresh air of the night. Then, he started to think about all the incredible events of the past school year. On Valentine's Day, he had finally managed to open his heart to Hermione.

He met Mark Evans, one of his mother's cousins, who had been a Death Eater in the past. Mark was only sixteen at that time and almost immediately he regretted joining Lord Voldemort. Fearing the Dark Lord's revenge, he fled, remaining abroad for many years. During Lupin's absence from school due to a serious injury, Dumbledore called Mark to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. After gaining Harry's trust, Mark revealed to Harry that he was a Seer, as his mother Lily had been. He exhorted Harry to exercise his new Seer powers which included foresight, the ability to read others' minds as well as communicate with them at a distance, and also the ability to master the universal elements.

During a Death Eater attack, Harry was struck by a terrible curse. For about a week, he remained dangerously between life and death, but he had also had a wonderful experience in the Astral World with his parents. After his recovery, he had managed to free Sirius's soul from the Veil of Death through an ancient ceremony. Surely Sirius had reached the Astral World, to continue his existence together with Lily and James.

Harry looked around him as the moonlight filtered in through the window. His room hadn't changed much over the past few years. It was pretty small, the hardwood floor covered with a gray throw-rug in the middle, Harry's Muggle and wizard clothes strewn about. The bed, now a bit too short for him, was standing against the wall under the window, and jealously tucked away in the narrow wooden wardrobe was his Firebolt. The desk was full of school books and by the bed was Harry's open trunk, his cauldron sticking out, overflowing with pieces of parchment.

Harry sighed deeply, wondering if this night also would be disturbed by one of his usual nightmares. Then he turned on his side and stared with affection at his parents' picture, which kept on his bed table. He smiled, knowing that they would always watch over him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

***O***

Harry walked through a dark maze of stone walls, holding his lit wand in his right hand. The silence of the night was broken only by the rustle of his long black robes and by the almost rhythmic dripping of water, which fell to the ground through a crack in the ceiling. A feeling of being followed sent a chill through his spine and pushed him to speed up his pace. Harry made several turns until he reached the center of the maze. In front of him, a partially closed iron door appeared.

The door slowly opened and he went inside with great caution; the room was dirty and had a stone floor and walls. A heavy, damp air filled his lungs, but Harry didn't care. He moved a few steps forward and finally saw a man huddled in a corner of the room. The man was wearing a long blue robe, torn in several places, and his disheveled long hair was falling over his face. Harry moved closer and suddenly, the man raised his head toward him.

"Mark!" exclaimed Harry, surprised. It was nearly impossible to recognize Mark Evans' once beautiful features; his face was tired and skinny, marred by deep scars and black rings under his eyes.

Mark looked as if he didn't recognize Harry; he kept staring at Harry with fear, moving as far away as he could, up against the wall behind him. "Nooo! Go away! Don't come any closer! Don't hurt me!" Mark shouted, his eyes widening in fear.

Harry didn't understand Mark's strange reaction and slowly moved closer. "It's me, it's Harry! I've come to rescue you, Mark!"

Although Harry was trying to comfort him with his words, Mark seemed crazy with fear and tried as hard as he could to not look Harry in the face.

"Mark, take my hand! Come with me!" Harry exhorted, stretching his arm out. As soon as he had lowered his gaze to his hands, Harry shouted in horror. They weren't his hands. It couldn't be possible! They were pale, almost dead-like, with long skeleton fingers, twisted like old gnarled tree branches.

Harry drew back, bewildered, still staring at his hands. "It isn't true! It's not me! It's not me!" he insistently repeated to himself, but his eyes didn't lie. Suddenly, he looked over and saw a small puddle of water on the floor. Fearful, he walked over to it and slowly bent over to look at his reflection.

"NOOOO!" Harry shouted desperately, raising his hands to his face. The surface of the water had just reflected the image of a disgusting being with a ghostly face and snakelike red eyes, the face of Lord Voldemort.

A laugh echoed evilly in Harry's mind, and a cold voice spoke.

"Do you really think you're any different than I am? How wrong you are!"

"Go away! Leave me alone, MONSTER!" Harry shouted with anger, but the voice spoke again, determined.

"You are my equal! There's no way out, Harry! Fight at my side, or die!"

"No! I won't! Do you hear me? I'LL NEVER JOIN YOU, NEVER!"

Shouting desperately, Harry woke up, sitting up abruptly on his bed. Panting heavily, he raised a hand to his scar, which was throbbing painfully. He felt his forehead and pajamas damp with sweat, as he breathed deeply to regain control over himself.

With trembling hands, he put on his glasses and then jumped out of bed and rushed to the mirror. The reflection in it looked like his own, lit only by the feeble light of the full moon filtering in through the window. Still not satisfied, he switched on a nearby light and examined every feature of his face. The emerald green eyes, the slim cheeks, the ruffled black hair -- everything looked as usual.

With his fingers, he lightly brushed the scar on his forehead, which seemed a little redder and slightly swollen more than normal. He was quite accustomed to this. His scar was an antenna of sorts and hurt unbearably every time he had a nightmare about Voldemort or whenever he sensed the feelings of his mortal enemy.

This horrible nightmare had been tormenting him ever since he had returned to Privet Drive. Each time he woke up, he always felt incredibly helpless and frustrated and wasn't able to get out of bed. If it wasn't for Aunt Petunia calling him insistently each morning ("GET UP!"), Harry would have laid in bed the entire day.

Harry switched off the light and weakly returned to his bed. He leaned back against the wall and quietly waited for the pain in his scar to diminish. It wasn't clear to him yet if these nightmares were messages sent to him by Voldemort or worse, premonitions.

Ever since Harry discovered that he was a Seer, he was always trying to explain every dream or vision he had. He even forced himself to follow Snape's suggestions, practicing Occlumency and closing his mind before going to bed. The nightmares however, kept tormenting him just the same, night after night.

Harry knew that he really should tell Albus Dumbledore about his dream and ask for his help. He just didn't want him or anyone else to think that he was weak, that he couldn't solve his own problems. Thinking about it, he knew he had always had awful nightmares for the last few years; there was nothing new about that, after all. Maybe it was just a nightmare. He wasn't really seeing a life-or-death situation that required him to rush off and do something rash. He wasn't really being shown a specific place where he could rush off to and do something rash. Maybe it was just his worry for Mark gnawing at him. Maybe it was just a nightmare.

The young wizard closed his eyes; if he started the day this early, his aunt and uncle would hear him and get mad about the noise. It was more than enough for them to have to bear his piercing shrieks in the middle of the night from his nightmares.

When the first rays of sunlight filtered into his room, Harry heard a wing brush against the window and opened his eyes. His beloved Hedwig had just returned, bringing with her a small package tied to her right leg with a blue ribbon. The snowy white owl gently landed on the bed and waited for her well- deserved pats.

"Just in time!" said Harry, stroking Hedwig's head. He untied the package and she then flew up to her cage on top of the wardrobe. Harry unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside were small iced cakes and a parchment from Hermione.

After a couple days at the conference, Hermione had written several owls to Harry in the last two weeks, making his stay at Privet Drive much more bearable. He took one of the cakes and bit into it with enjoyment, and then unrolled the parchment and read.

"My dear Harry,
I hope you're fine. I was really happy to receive your last owl so quickly.

Yours, Hermione"

Harry smiled, closed the box, and set it in his night table's drawer. He then took out some parchment and a quill and started his reply.

"Dear Hermione,
How are you? I'm fine, even if I am bored out of my mind. My days are measured by the slow ticking of the clock and by my Aunt Petunia calling me every minute to help her in the kitchen or garden.

It's only because of your letters that I'm able to go on. Seriously!"

"Harry! HARRY POTTER!" The acute voice of Aunt Petunia interrupted Harry. He sighed deeply then reluctantly rolled up the parchment and hid it in the drawer, planning to finish it later.

He jumped out of bed and started to get dressed, not particularly listening to his aunt's croaking, as she called him at regular intervals.

After a quick shower, he put on a pair of large, worn-out jeans, a crumpled blue T-shirt and his usual dirty trainers. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, only ruffling it further. Then he left his room and closed the door.

Reaching the kitchen, Harry realized with disappointment that another extreme cleaning event was in session. All of the chairs were sitting upside down on the table, the microwave had been dismantled, and Aunt Petunia was perched on top of a wooden ladder, busy emptying and dusting the cupboard.

"What took you so long to get down here?" she asked, extremely irritated. "Your breakfast is on the table! Eat quickly and then help me!" she said hastily, not even looking at him.

Harry slowly moved to the table where, in the small space between the four upside down chairs, was a plate with half a piece of dry bread covered with butter. He made a grimace of disgust and decided to pass on breakfast. He took a duster and started on the microwave.

"Are Uncle Vernon and Dudley up yet?" asked Harry, absentmindedly.

"Your uncle is out and Dudley is still in bed. Be careful not to wake him up while cleaning!" ordered Aunt Petunia. Harry rolled his eyes and nodded without taking his attention away from the microwave in front of him.

The morning went on quietly; Harry and his aunt both worked in silence, doing their best to ignore each other as much as possible. By lunch time, the kitchen was shining like a mirror and Harry was already feeling his stomach rumble in hunger. For a good half hour, he had been imagining eating Hermione's delicious iced cakes. When he thought he was finished, he placed the duster on the table and moved to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Aunt Petunia sharply.

Harry sighed before replying. "To the bathroom!"

"Fine, but come back immediately! I still need your help!"

"All right, Aunt Petunia!" replied Harry resignedly as he slowly climbed the stairs.

For as long as he had lived in that house, life had been extremely hard for Harry. His aunt and uncle treated him rudely, always comparing him to his cousin Dudley, whom they spoiled to no end. While staying at Privet Drive, Harry usually tried to keep his temper in check as much as possible. He knew all too well that he had to remain in that house; only the bond of blood of his mother's sister could protect him from Lord Voldemort.

Harry had just reached the landing when he noticed that his bedroom door was partially open. Temper rising, he slowly moved closer. I closed the door this morning... I'm sure I did! he thought to himself. He placed a hand on the doorknob, counted to three, and then opened the door quickly.

Harry was not at all happy with the scene in front of him. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL'RE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?" he shouted, furiously.

Dudley had been caught in the act! He was sitting on Harry's bed, his face still dirty with crumbs. In his left hand was one of Hermione's cakes and in his right the parchment Harry had started to write.

Both cousins remained frozen for a few seconds, staring directly into each other eyes; each used these few moments in a very different way. Harry tried to think of an excellent spell to transfigure his cousin into a great big dirty pig to match the tail he received so many years earlier. Dudley, on the other hand, tried to think of a good way to get out of his predicament. Of all the options that came to his mind, Dudley finally, of course, chose exactly the wrong one.

Dudley slowly stood up, a silly smile pasted on his face, and waved Harry's letter in the air. "It's true then! You've got a girlfriend!" he started, fully with the intention of embarrassing Harry so much that he would run away ashamed.

Quite to the contrary however, Harry didn't feel any shame in his heart whatsoever. Instead, he felt a furious, unruly anger rising in him, ready to explode.

"Give me that letter!" Harry ordered, moving closer with his right hand stretched out, his heart beating faster and faster.

"No way! I don't want you telling your girlfriend about my business. And also, I think I'll show this letter to my friends, make them laugh a bit! What did you write?" Dudley unrolled the parchment with his huge hands and concentrated to find the most interesting part. "Ha! Here it is: `It's only because of your letters that I'm able to go on.'" He read the sentence in a raucous voice and burst into laugher.

"I said GIVE ME THE LETTER!" Harry shouted, starting to lose his temper.

Seeing that Dudley wasn't going to give it back, Harry felt a sudden impulse inside of him and without thinking, he threw himself at Dudley, desperately trying to snatch back the parchment from his cousin's grip. Dudley held it even tighter in his hand and stretched his arm up over Harry's head.

"GIVE IT BACK, OR I..."

"Or you'll what? You can't do anything without... this!"

Harry's eyes widened in surprised. With a devilish smile, Dudley took out from his pocket Harry's wand and showed it to him triumphantly. In his hurry earlier, Harry forgot to take his wand with him and left it inside his bed table.

"Now we're on the same playing field. The only difference now is that you're NOTHING without magic!" Dudley laughed again, satisfied.

Harry felt the blood boiling in his veins, as if all the resentment of the last sixteen years was going to burst out in that very moment, once and for all. This would be the last time his cousin would make a fool of him.

Again, Harry threw himself against his cousin, but this time he used every ounce of strength he had and finally managed to slam Dudley to the floor. With seemingly endless anger, he punched Dudley everywhere: his fat stomach, his fat arms, his multiple fat chins. Despite Harry's best efforts, it looked as though Dudley were simply amused.

"You don't have a chance against me. You should probably stop while you're ahead, before I start to get seriously angry!" said Dudley, laughing.

This warning had the opposite effect on Harry, who started punching his cousin even harder until finally, Dudley let the parchment and wand fall to the floor and stopped Harry by grabbing his arms.

"You asked for it!" threatened Dudley. With a quick movement, he forced Harry's arms behind his back. "Try to free yourself now, if you can!"

Both glared at each other with hate; Harry was panting heavily, desperately trying to break free. Dudley was making a great effort to hold him still.

"You're absolutely worthless! You've always been a burden on my family! You're a good-for-nothing weirdo, just like your parents!" shouted Dudley.

"All of you are not even worth half of what my parents were worth!" replied Harry furiously. "When I am allowed to leave this house, I'll finally be able forget your fat ugly faces!"

"Why don't you leave now? You're just like your parents: a good-for-nothing FREAK!"

"IT'S NOT TRUE, TAKE IT BACK!" shouted Harry.

"No, I won't!" replied Dudley stubbornly.

"TAKE IT BACK!" Feeling a strength he never thought he had before, Harry managed to break free of his cousin's grip. He grabbed Dudley's arms firmly and pushed his wrists to the floor, sitting on top of him to keep him from moving.

A shocked look appeared in Dudley's eyes, as he had never seen Harry so strong and determined.

"You're going to take back everything you said about my parents!" said Harry, panting heavily. He felt an uncontrollable strength inside of him, something that needed to escape.

Suddenly, Harry lost all track of time and space. Everything around him disappeared, leaving only an endless hate in his heart.

Then, a wild trembling of the walls and floor brought Harry back to reality. The light on the ceiling started to swing back and forth. The bed slid across the floor to the opposite side of the room as the doors of the wardrobe opened and slammed shut loudly.

"It's an earthquake! MUMMY, DADDY, IT'S AN EARTHQUAKE!" Dudley screamed before a shelf fell off the wall and several large books hit him square on the head.

Through the window came the screams of the neighbors who were running out of their houses, gathering in the middle of the street, worried and confused. From downstairs, Aunt Petunia was desperately calling her son.

In a sort of trance, Harry lessened his hold on Dudley; he pushed Harry off of him and stood up, and then staggered out of the room.

Almost completely unaware of what was happening around him, Harry closed his eyes and, as usually happened when he used his Seer powers, he felt as though every last bit of strength was begin drained away from him. He felt a sharp pain in his heart and raised a hand to his chest, panting. Abruptly, the walls and floors stopped shaking.

The pain in his heart grew sharper, making it difficult for him to breathe. Harry squinted his eyes and with no energy remaining, he collapsed to the floor. Before he passed out, he felt like was falling into an endless abyss, dark and awful. Down, down, further and further down.

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