Harry Potter and the Power Unknown

~Chapter One: An Unexpected Visit~

Harry Potter awoke the morning before his 16^th birthday with a slight headache and shivering with cold. For two summers in a row, he had not one decent night's sleep, and it was beginning to take a toll on him. Last summer all he could dream about was Cedric and the graveyard, in which he would hear the high, cold voice of Voldemort telling his servant to "kill the spare" and then watching Voldemort, more powerful and terrible than ever, rise from the steaming cauldron. His voice would continuously echo in Harry's ears:

Bow to death Harry. It might even be painless.

However, this summer's nightmares, if possible, were even worse. Every night he would watch his godfather Sirius fall repeatedly in to the abyss of the black veil on the dais in the Department of Mysteries. Each time he tried to reach for Sirius' hand and pull him back, a blinding pain would strike his body and he once again would feel as if he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, unable to speak and unable to pull back his godfather. The high-pitched laughter of Voldemort filled his ears as always, but even worse was the shriek of triumph from Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry, in his dreams and in reality, wanted nothing more than to curse her into oblivion, but he could never get to her before she stuck Sirius and caused him to fall beyond the veil. Then he would wake, find himself tangled in sheets and soaked in sweat, and wipe the tears running down his face. Then his endless guilt for causing all these events to happen would consume him again, causing! him to want nothing more than to go back to sleep forever and never have to face his guilt again. He remembered everything from Snape's worst memory to not practicing occlumency to his weakness for heroics. Every single horrible memory of his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would come rushing back as soon as he opened his eyes. Sirius' death had caused a gaping hole to form in Harry's heart, for he had never experienced a loss this bad. He came close to feeling this miserable whenever he would practice the patronus charm with Professor Lupin in his third year, when he would pass out from hearing his mother's screams as a dementor drew nearer to him. But truly, Harry was so young when his parents were murdered by Voldemort that he did not remember much of anything, nor did he experience the pain after such a loss. But now...

The weather at Number Four Privet Drive seemed to be reflecting Harry's mood. Unlike the heat of the previous summer, most of Surrey had been rainy and cool for the last few weeks. Harry sat up in bed and put his glasses on, then wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. Sirius had been the closest thing to a brother and a father that Harry had ever known, and the shock of losing him was more than Harry could bear, especially since, growing up with the Dursleys, he never received any sort of parental love or guidance until he met Sirius. In all fairness, it wasn't until Harry realized Sirius was wrongly accused of the betrayal of Harry's parents that Harry began to accept him and love him. Harry's heart ached with the fact that he never told Sirius how much he cared for him, how much he appreciated all Sirius had done for him.

Harry had to write at least every three days to assure everyone he was being treated decently by the Dursleys, but Harry hardly read letters from his friends, because even though he knew they wanted to help and comfort him, he felt they would not understand his depression. He still had not told them about the prophesy. He just wanted to be left alone, but when he was alone all he could think of was Sirius, and his pain was not healing. Dumbledore was even writing to him almost daily, which was a nice change from ignoring him as Dumbledore did the previous summer. But even Dumbledore's words brought little comfort to Harry.

Dear Harry,

I know you are feeling alone and I know you are secluding yourself from everyone. We all want to help you, and we want to get you out of Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. But you have to try, Harry. You have to begin to heal yourself before we can help you. I will not push you, but you must try. Sirius would have wanted you to live, to love and be happy. I will not allow anyone to take you away from your aunt and uncle's unless you are ready to do these things. You must be strong; there is much learn and much to live for.

Professor Dumbledore

Harry read this most recent letter of Dumbledore's again while sitting up in bed with a feeling of mixed guilt and anger. He was sick of all of Dumbledore's riddles. Dumbledore still didn't get it! How could he possibly know how Harry was feeling? Sirius' death was his own fault, no matter what anyone told him, and Harry knew that even if his friends and Dumbledore were ready to help him, Harry would never forgive himself.

'Much to live for?' Harry thought. How could I have much to live for when I know how my life is going to end?

Harry's heart was so burdened with guilt over the death of Sirius that he barely cared about what Dumbledore told him about his destiny. The prophesy Harry heard in Dumbledore's office after Sirius' death still lingered in his mind, but Harry no longer cared what Voldemort was doing, or where he was. He was not nicking newspapers and lying in hydrangea bushes trying to hear the news. The whole wizarding world new Voldemort was back, that Dumbledore and Harry had been telling the truth, and Harry seemed to be the only one in his world who did not care. He really did not care about anything anymore.

Harry's aunt, Petunia Evans Dursley, was the first to notice something was wrong. Harry did not share information about his world with the Dursleys, mostly because they didn't want to hear it in the first place. He also thought they would especially keep their distance after being threatened by Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks and Arthur Weasley at the end of the school year. But they had hardly seen Harry since he came home from Hogwarts since he was content with just staying in his room all the time. In fact, Harry felt so miserable that, remembering his life before he knew he was a wizard, the cupboard under the stairs didn't seem so bad after all.

"What's wrong with you? You haven't eaten a bite in almost 24 hours," said Aunt Petunia as she knocked on Harry's door.

"I don't feel well," Harry replied coldly.

Petunia opened the door and came into the room. Harry had the lights off and he was lying on his bed with the curtains shut, and even though it was the middle of the day his room was almost pitch black.

"Do you mind?" Harry told his aunt as she entered.

"You haven't been up and about for a while."

"Well, I thought you and Uncle Vernon would be happy about that. You are always complaining about me when I'm around. You never wanted me in the first place, so I'm making it easy on you," Harry said.

Petunia blinked, and a strange expression fluttered across her face as Harry looked at her. Harry thought for a second that she actually looked hurt by his statement, but she recovered quickly.

"I would have thought you would be a little more grateful. I know that crazy headmaster of yours told you why you have to stay here. Believe me; it would have been better for us if he never dumped you on our doorstep. So if you are so desperate to leave, on your head be it." Petunia then stormed out of the room, slamming Harry's door behind her. Harry simply rolled his eyes and rolled over on his bed. This was the latest scuffle with any of his relatives since Dudley noticed the I must not tell Lies scar on the back of Harry's hand one morning and ridiculed Harry until Harry lost his temper and caused Dudley's glass of orange juice to shatter.

He woke again a few hours later to the sound of his bedroom door closing again. On his desk were a small salad and a chicken leg. Harry was initially shocked to receive so much food, but Aunt Petunia apparently did not want him to starve to death, even though she was still angry enough not to talk to him. Harry had no energy to be grateful, but he sat down and tried to eat all the same. He took a bite of the salad, and then began to eat the chicken but three bites into it, his stomach lurched and he realized he couldn't eat. Passed the point of caring, Harry went back to sleep, hoping he wouldn't dream tonight.

At two in the morning, Harry sat up with a jolt. He was covered in sweat as he always was, but his dreams did not wake him. He had felt a pain in his scar so powerful it had caused him to wake, and he hadn't felt that kind of pain since Voldemort possessed him on the atrium floor of the Ministry of Magic. His eyes watered as he fumbled for his glasses and the switch to the lamp on his nightstand. He got out of bed and slowly drew the curtains back enough for his eyes to see the street. Could Voldemort be here?

Great, he thought gloomily. Another great start to what will undoubtedly be a great birthday.

After telling himself for more than a month that he didn't care what happened to him, facing the prospect that he might be face to face with Voldemort once again was enough to change his mind. His instinct always told him to be ready to fight, to defend his life. However, Harry did not see anything for ten minutes as he stared out the window, and he began to close the curtains when an explosion of blinding hot pain surged through his scar. He fell to his knees with a yell and knocked the lamp sitting on his desk onto the ground with a crash. He thought he saw, in his mind's eye, two flashes of green light, which made his stomach and his heart contract at the same time. Harry, through his pain, barely heard the shouts and the footsteps coming from his aunt and uncle's bedroom.

"POTTER! What the ruddy hell is going on in there? It's two in the bloody morning! I swear you're going to get it, boy!" screamed Uncle Vernon at the top of his lungs. When Harry did not answer, however, Vernon began to open the door. As he did, he saw Harry retch as the pain in his scar increased. Everything was beginning to blur, and there was a ringing in his ears. He felt close to unconsciousness. Aunt Petunia rushed forward and knelt next to Harry as he collapsed. She rolled him over on his back, his head in her lap, and looked up at her clearly confused husband, who looked almost unconcerned. Harry's cousin Dudley had now entered the room as well.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Dudley. Dudley looked just as frightened as he did the night the dementors attacked, but then he had been afraid of anything even remotely connected to magic since he ended up with a pig's tail at age 11.

Harry clutched his forehead as the pain worsened. "He's here," he whispered to his aunt, willing himself not to pass out. "He's found me. I'm sorry..." Harry trailed off.

"Who's here, Harry?" Petunia began to look frightened. Harry grabbed her arm and tried to pull himself closer to her. "Tell me, Harry? Who has found you?"

"Voldemort."

~Chapter Two: Promises ~

Wide eyed, Petunia stared at Harry in her arms and then looked up at her husband.

"That crackpot who killed your parents? He's here, in the house?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"Not in the house," Harry answered in a hoarse voice. "He's in the street, outside the house." The pain was surging through his body.

"I knew you would endanger my family, boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon suddenly, causing even Dudley to jump. Harry, through his intense hurt, could not believe his ears. "I want you out of this house! If he wants you, he can have you! Did you hear me? I WANT YOU OUT! I want you to..."

"BE QUIET VERNON!" yelled Petunia.

Everyone in the room looked at Harry's aunt with shocked looks on their faces.

"Vernon, when we took him in we agreed to protect him. We talked about this last summer. I will not let him out of this house except for school when I know his life is in danger. Look at him! He couldn't leave the house in this condition anyway! He wouldn't stand a chance on his own!"

"I don't care..." Vernon began, but at one look at his wife, his voice faltered. Petunia's face was set. Somehow, Harry knew she would win this fight and for the second time in his 15 years of knowing her, Harry was glad Petunia was his mother's sister. His pain subsided almost immediately. He stared in disbelief at his aunt; after all the years of harsh remarks and put-downs about his parents, Harry suddenly realized she was defending him, and that she cared about him when it came down to important matters like life and death.

Vernon, dumbstruck at his wife's outburst, looked furious, but she ignored him and turning to Dudley said, "Dudley, get me a cool washcloth from the bathroom please." Dudley left the room without a word, and Petunia turned to look at Harry.

"Harry, are you alright now? Can you stand?"

"I think so," he said as he struggled to his feet. He still felt weak. "I don't feel much pain anymore; it just stopped. But I think he may still be outside." Aunt Petunia helped him to the bed and sat him down.

"How do you know he is here, Harry? Did you see him?" asked Aunt Petunia.

"Not initially," Harry answered. "I felt a sharp pain in my scar, which woke me up. I got out of bed and went to the window, pulled open the curtain and looked outside. I didn't really expect to see him, and when I didn't I turned to get back into bed. Then my scar began to hurt so bad I fell to my knees, but before I did I looked up and saw him looking up at me from the street." Harry then stood up so fast Aunt Petunia and Dudley started.

"Harry, where are you going?" Petunia asked.

"I have to go downstairs and see if he's still out there!" Harry said as he raced from the room. He ran past Dudley holding a washcloth so fast that Dudley had to stand close against the wall to avoid being knocked over.

"But..." Petunia began, but Harry was already in the hall and down the stars. She, Uncle Vernon and Dudley (who looked beside himself with fright) followed Harry and watched him slowly part the curtains in the living room to look outside.

"Do you see anything?" Uncle Vernon asked harshly.

But Harry couldn't answer.

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes were wide with mingled surprise and fear as he found himself staring into the face of the man who had haunted his nightmares for six years. Lord Voldemort was standing outside the living room window, staring inside directly at Harry.

Aunt Petunia began to scream, but Uncle Vernon clapped a hand over her mouth and prevented her from rushing to Harry. Vernon then moved forward and threw Harry away from the window and closed the curtains, but felt the damage had already been done.

"Well, boy, you are going to be the end of my family just as you were the end of your parents," Vernon said nastily. "It's over now, Petunia, he's seen us."

"Wait," said Harry, and he moved for the window again.

"What the hell are you doing? He'll punch through the window to get to you!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and he moved to grab Harry's arm again.

Harry dodged out of the way and said, "He wouldn't need to. He's just about the most powerful wizard in the world and he could just blow the house apart." Aunt Petunia gasped at this statement. "But I think if he was going to he would have already. I don't think he can see me."

The Dursleys looked puzzled, but Harry moved to the window, held his breath, and pulled the curtains open again. He looked right into the red eyes of Voldemort and closed his eyes waiting for the attack. But it didn't come. Voldemort simply stared at him, but Harry suddenly realized Voldemort seemed to be looking through him, not at him. As he turned to tell the Dursleys this, a quick but sharp pain hit his scar, though not at all like the pain had he felt earlier. He had felt Voldemort's anger, and then he heard a loud CRACK. Harry turned and Voldemort was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was right; he couldn't see me. He didn't seem to see any of us, or he would have tried to come inside." Harry was thoroughly confused, and apparently, so was everyone else.

"I thought you said he saw you from the street," said Uncle Vernon in a tone of forced calm.

"I thought he did, but he must have just been looking up. I thought he would be able to feel me though the pain in my scar, but I guess not."

Harry heard a swooshing noise and looked up to see an owl soaring through the fireplace. Harry recognized the owl as Errol, the Weasley's barn owl, and grabbed the letter as it fell towards his feet. He ripped the parchment in his rush to open the letter as the owl swooped back up the fireplace. He was paying no attention to Uncle Vernon's now very familiar tirade about owls as disappointment washed over him. He expected more information, just as he had last summer after the dementor attack. The letter was very similar in content as that letter.

Harry,

Dumbledore knows what just happened. We don't know how he found you, but Dumbledore trusted that he would not be able to harm you, which is why Dumbledore is not there. He will be writing to you shortly. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S.

Arthur Weasley

Harry sighed, too exhausted to be angry, and crumpled the torn parchment in his hand. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece, which now read 2:45 and then turned to his frightened-looking relatives. Harry opened his mouth to say something to them when he saw a flash of flame above his head, and another letter with a golden phoenix feather drifted slowly to the ground. Harry was startled to receive a letter from Dumbledore through Fawks since they both had been using Harry's owl Hedwig to communicate with each other.

Harry,

I didn't expect Voldemort to find your location so soon after his return, and his actions have now changed everything. I am assuming that since Fawks has found you, nothing serious has happened and Voldemort has not actually discovered you or your family. The ancient magic protecting you in your house is still in effect, and it is very powerful.

Harry remembered something from what seemed like ages ago about the Secret-Keeper charm in which Voldemort could have looked in the window of his parent's hiding place but still would not be able to see them.

However, it seems someone has clued him into the fact that you live somewhere in the vicinity, a fact that has been guarded since the death of your parents. I will tell you more soon, but now I am sending someone to get you out of the house. Stay there until the escort arrives.

Professor Dumbledore

"They are coming to get me," Harry reassured himself, but Aunt Petunia still looked worried.

"Who is coming to get you?" she asked with slight concern on her face.

"The headmaster of my school is sending an escort to take me from the house, for your protection as well as mine, I suppose," Harry said.

"Where are they taking you?" asked Uncle Vernon, trying (and failing) to hide his delight that Harry was leaving the house.

"I don't know. Professor Dumbledore didn't say. The letter that came with this feather was from him." He held up Fawks' golden feather.

"Why was there a flash of fire when that letter came?" Uncle Vernon inquired curiously.

Harry tried to hide his smirk. He thought Uncle Vernon might approve of letters-via-phoenix rather than owls, even if he was startled by the flame. "It was brought by Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawks. When he delivers letters he just flashes and leaves behind the note with..."

Uncle Vernon cut him off. "It was brought by what?"

"A Phoenix. You know... a bird of fire that is reborn from..." Harry began.

"I know what a phoenix is, you stupid boy. I thought they didn't exist."

Harry frowned at his uncle. "Well, you also thought wizards didn't exist. It's amazing how you can learn new things everyday," Harry replied sarcastically. He was surprised to find his temper rising so quickly.

Uncle Vernon glared at him dangerously, and then continued, "What did the letters say, then?"

"I told you. The first one was from my friend Ron's dad saying not to leave the house until I hear from Professor Dumbledore, and the second was from Dumbledore saying he was sending an escort to take me out of the house." Harry answered.

"Well, I hope they come for you soon. You are more trouble then you are worth... ruddy owls everywhere, your constant sulking and backtalk... Marge was right; we should have taken you to the orphanage the moment you were placed on our doorstep, or better yet just left you in the street!"

Harry began to shake as his temper reached the boiling point. The lights flickered and some of the china in the kitchen cupboards began to clatter.

"Look," Harry began scornfully. "I didn't ask for all this to happen. I can't help that you are related to me. You have treated me like trash for fifteen years and I am SICK OF IT!" The lights flickered again. "I didn't ask you to take me in, but a little compassion would have been appropriate. But since everything has to be about YOU and the sacrifices YOU made, I took your insults and anger. But MY life is in danger here, and I can't help it if this is the only place besides my school that I am safe. You have no idea what I have been through in the last five years, so BACK THE HELL OFF!"

Uncle Vernon was now purple in the face and trembling with fury, spit flying as he yelled at his nephew. "I always knew something like this would happen, ever since we took you in! Those no-good parents of yours got themselves killed and left you with nothing but a criminal for a godfather and freaks for friends!"

At these words, Harry pulled his phoenix-core wand out of the back pocket of his ripped jeans and pointed it at Uncle Vernon's chest. Dudley cowered behind his mother at the sight of Harry's wand and an electric charge of energy raced off Harry and through the room, causing the hair on Petunia's neck to stand on end.

"Don't ever mention my godfather again. EVER. He was ten times the man you will ever be, and if I hear you so much as mumble his name, you WILL be sorry." As the lights continued to flicker, some of the bulbs sparked and popped.

"What are you going to do, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked as if daring Harry to act. "I know you can't do anything to me. They'll never take you back at the freak show you call a school if you do."

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared severely at his Uncle. "Try me. I don't care what the consequences are. Don't ever mention my godfather again."

The house began to shake on its foundation as Harry's body quivered with anger, but his wand hand was steady, and his face was set. Uncle Vernon, seeing the seriousness in Harry's eyes, had no choice but to yield the argument.

Shocked at his own power to shake the whole house, Harry stood stock still in the living room, waiting for another outburst from his uncle. It didn't come, so he replaced his wand and went back to his thoughts to calm his temper when a sudden wave of sadness swept over him. Last year, after the dementor attack, Sirius had written to him, and even though he was a bit disappointed at the time to receive so little information, at this instant Harry felt he would give anything to see his godfather's writing whether it was two words or twenty. He always depended on Sirius to help him through the worst of times, and now Harry felt more alone than he had in a month. The adrenaline and anxiety pumping through his veins ebbed away, and all he felt was emptiness. He almost began to wish Voldemort had found him. His aunt seemed to see the sudden change in his mood.

"Harry, you have been up in your room since you got back from school. You don't go outside, and you spent most of last summer outside. I don't see any owls going back and forth from your window anymore, and I want to know what is going on with you. Clearly something is wrong, and it seems like it may have to do with this Voldemort person."

Harry looked up at his aunt and saw a stern and almost harsh expression, but her eyes were still filled with concern. Harry took this his aunt's first attempt in fifteen years to listen to his problems and act like a mother. So he sat down on the armchair and began a very brief explanation of what happened at the end of the school year, even though he knew he should have been worried to tell Uncle Vernon about Sirius' death. The year Harry told the Dursleys about Sirius, Uncle Vernon believed him to be a hardened criminal and gave Harry more freedom than usual in fear of Sirius' retaliation if Harry was mistreated. Once he found out Sirius was gone he might go back to his favorite pastime of making Harry miserable. Now, so early in the morning as the words spilled out of Harry's mouth, he realized it didn't matter how Uncle Vernon took the news. Harry was already miserable, and besides, he was leaving Privet Drive soon.

When he finished, Harry leaned back in the armchair and let exhaustion take over him. The Dursleys all remained silent until Aunt Petunia moved forward to help Harry out of the chair. "Go to bed, Harry. We can talk more in the morning if you like."

Harry would normally have been surprised by the words "if you like", but too tired to think, he dragged himself upstairs, though himself on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.