Oris Postremo
Oris Postremo
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A/N: I’m back with another story, those plot
bunnies just seem to keep coming. Please let me know if this story seems
interesting enough to continue – I find it interesting but I like to know what
all of you think.
Oh, the title is
just used a internet translation site.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything
related to it, and I do not make any profit from the writing of this story.
Unless you count the good feeling I get when I get reviews *hint hint*
Oris
mso-bidi-font-family:"Calisto MT"'> Postremo
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By crimson_phoenix
It all started on a sunny weekday in Little
Whinging, Surrey. Harry was four years old, and knew a lot more than he should,
not just for someone his age, but for anyone.
Actually, we should start just after Harry
was born, on July 31st 1980, not that anyone other than Harry would
know about this, and he would probably not tell you anyway.
Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James,
was often said to be a very quiet child, a blessing to his parents and anyone
charged with looking after him. No one seemed to worry about why he was quiet –
he just was.
The missing factor in this was simple, Harry
was gifted. He was a seer; gaining knowledge of the future, past and present, and
aging him internally before his time, even with his low ability to understand
what he was seeing.
Now you would think, understandably, that
something like this would cause a child to cry more rather than less. However,
in Harry’s case something inside of him told him that crying would not help –
it would not stop what he saw, or change it, and his parents nor anyone else
could do so either – so he did not cry about it and just accepted it as it was.
By the time he had reached his first
birthday, the prophecy had been made and the family was in hiding, Harry had
seen many things, including his own family’s death, although he did not know
that that was what it meant. So as Halloween crept closer, Harry started to
become more agitated, he slept less, he screamed more, and Lily and James were
hard-pressed to find the reason for little Harry’s change.
When Halloween dawned, Harry became deathly
quiet. He didn’t scream, laugh, gurgle or make any other sort of noise and Lily
often had to fight the urge to check that he was even still breathing.
Lily was trying to get Harry to sleep when
James felt the wards fall and shouted for her to run, but it was already too
late. Harry knew what was happening, what was going to happen, even at his
tender age. He also knew that it could not be changed, would not be changed,
and just watched.
The young child did not worry, the knowledge
had shown him he would survive, and that was all that was needed.
Events played out, and young Harry was left sleeping
on the doorstep of his new future, unplagued by
visions and flashes.
The collision of the curse of death and his
young soul had irrevocably altered his gift. For a few years to come he would
see and know no more than he already did and should, as his body, mind and
magic adjusted and evolved. Until that same sunny weekday mentioned before,
where a very small four year old changed his own world
with an umbrella.