Courting Destiny (English version)

Second Year Part I

A/N: I don't understand latin, all the latin words in this chapter thanks to google translate. if there is a writing error, the author apologizes in advance

Sunlight enters through the window bars in a room on the second floor of Privet Drive. The bars were as cold as the owner of this house.  Curious, what the people thought on the street when looking at that window. Maybe they think it's normal to lock up the crazy nephew. These rumors are nothing new around Privet Drive, supported by the strange things that always happen around Harry. Some say, his parents passed on some kind of insanity, some say due to a bump on his head when he was a baby.

'Oh, poor the Dursleys have to deal with that strange boy. Watch out, as he passes! hide your children and your wallet from him!'

As such is the way people think in this suburb, it is certainly not surprising why the Dursleys can be popular among them.

In the room full of broken things, Harry Potter lying on the wooden floor. Not because he admired the floor, no matter how beautiful it was. He just didn't have the energy to get up after the incessant attack of vision. His emerald eyes looked at the empty cat doors that had not been in use for a long time and the numerous slot keys. His lips were dry, cracked and bleeding. His throat was like there was sand every time he swallowed. But the glass has long been filled with cobwebs. His stomach could no longer feel hungry, just stiff as there were hundreds of pebbles rubbing against each other every time he moved. How do you think Dursley treats a Wizard, let alone Seer?
Harry's back was burned by the lashes from his uncle's belt. One thing that wasn't the first time. Whatever Harry does, good or bad is always reviled. Either because of mistakes or because of achievements. At first he thought it was normal, that he was unimportant, burdensome and abnormal, as his uncle and aunt often repeated. How not? with his vision of a hooded person and his green light, a flying motorcycle, or a castle with a winged black horse and a ship coming out from inside the lake. Of course they think it's crazy. Harry thinks so too.

But as hard as the Dursleys tried to stop his 'abnormality', by locking him up or beating him up, it wouldn't stop. His vision knows no condition. Even if it could kill Harry. But even though he thought it was imagination; his vision of the Magnificent Castle and the hope of standing there was what made him survive. Keep it from slipping, because it is so easy when death feels more beautiful than life. At times like these, Harry would close his eyes and throw himself at the sweep of a mysterious hand, curled up in that embrace, so that he could forget the wound on his back or hunger and thirst. Those now familiar hands, who were always protective, protected Harry and always kept him safe. The hand now has a name. Marcus.

All those images come true when he receives Hogwarts ' letter and Hagrid with his giant hand forcefully removes the door of their hiding place in a wooden hut on a cliff near the sea. How happy Harry is, as in euphoria, that everything is not imagination.

But that reality, now feels far away, when viewed from behind bars, between broken, abandoned things and glasses that nest spiders. But he tried hard to hold on to the future. Oh! How beautiful the future is. So, even though his soul was already so thin and made him unsure of how to survive, the piece of the future was like a thread that tied him to the life.

The future seemed so promising, Harry did not want to give up. But determination alone doesn't seem to be enough to save his life now.

There was a tug at the slot, then the door was opened violently by his uncle whose face was red with wrath. "BOY!"he shouted loudly. "Don't ever act weird! There are important guests who will have dinner here. If there's anything unnatural here, I'll punish you! Got it?!"the man did not wait for Harry's answer, closed the door again and returned the slot to its place. Harry closed his eyes with a smile. Now's the chance.