Harry Potter and the Gift of Memories [Harry Potter Fan Fiction]

Chapter III: Small Time Crises

I cried out in alarm and pain as my back slammed against the other side of the broom cupboard. Agony lanced up my spine and my already hurt arm began to feel like Uncle Vernon had stepped on it and ground his heel against it.

"You'll be staying in there for the rest of the week to think about what you did, boy! I won't be having anything unnatural going on in this house!"

The door slammed closed with a loud 'BANG!' and I was engulfed in the darkness of my home once more. As the light disappeared tears sprung to my eyes, both from the pain in my back and arm, as well as from Uncle Vernon's words.

I still don't understand how what I did was wrong. All I wanted was for the blocks that Dudley was throwing at me to not hurt anymore. Could they be upset because I made the blocks turn into feathers? But I used to do that all the time with mum and dad. They had always been so proud of me whenever I would float something or change something into something else. They never got angry or upset, never scolded me; how could what I did be bad?

Gingerly, I sat up, wincing and fighting back another cry as pain shot straight up my back. Trying not to grimace, I finished sitting up and brought my arm up to look at it. I couldn't see it, though, my eyesight has never been that good, even so, I knew that if I had some light to see with all I would find was a large bruise where Uncle Vernon had slammed my arm into a wall while dragging me to my cupboard.

Not knowing what else to do, I curled up into a ball and tried not to cry. I failed, and began crying anyways, though I did not make any noise. Uncle Vernon would get upset if he heard me.

And so I cried in silence. But these were not tears of pain though, no, I had been hurt worse before. These were tears of frustration, tears of anger, but most of all, they were tears of hate. I hated my relatives, the people I called aunt, uncle and cousin. I hated the whole lot of them. I hated them so much that just thinking about how much I hated them made my head hurt.

As I lay there, shedding tears and cursing the day I had been stuck with these people, I could not help but think that all of this would be different if I had the power to defend myself.

If only I had power.

If only...

XoX

The very next morning, Harry Potter, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, opened his eyes with a sigh. He had been meditating all night, unable to clear his mind and unable to sleep. He was too excited.

Today was the day he took his first steps on the path that his parents had walked. He would be going to get his school supplies at a place called Diagon Alley. He had spoke at length with Aunt Petunia last night about how to get there. His Aunt, though hesitant and obviously miffed about discussing a topic she had no desire to remember, answered all of his questions to the best of her ability. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

In one fluid motion Harry brought himself from a sitting position to a standing one. He moved over to the window. It was early, the sun was just now rising, casting rays of light upon the land before him. It was too early to go to Diagon Alley. Uncle Vernon was unlikely to even be awake. A pity.

Seeing how it was Saturday, Harry had nothing to do but take a shower and get prepared. He didn't exercise on Saturdays, instead letting his body rest and recover from the arduous tasks he put it through during the week. With that thought in mind, he went into the bathroom, washed himself off, then got dressed in a pair of dark green pants, a black sleeveless shirt, a collared button up shirt the same color as his pants and his converse shoes.