I am a Potter

First Part

Harry had never felt such pain in his life. Even while Vernon had whipped him bloody with a belt, even when Dudley and his friends beat him up, it had never been as painful as receiving an overpowered crucio by Voldemort himself right to the chest.

Unfortunately, that was exactly what he had endured, for 6 times now, since he had been portkeyed right into this Merli-forsaken graveyard. If he wasn't shaking from pain, Harry might have cursed Barty Crouch Jr. And Wormtail. And Voldemort.

But not just them. He would have cursed at least verbally, the Dursleys, for ruining his childhood. He would have a dew choice word for Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the man that had allowed them to do it. Just like he allowed Severus f**king Snape, the so-called 'childhood friend' of his mother, to terrorize him, and countless other children, for years!

All of this made him so mad, as he screamed under yet another torturous spell. Angry at the pain. At the injuries. At the injustice. Angry at his own uselessness. His powerlessness. Why hadn't anyone prepared him for something like this? Why hadn't he been trained? To survive? To fight! Instead of losing his time listening to a bitter glorified, greasy-haired, overgrown dungeon bat of a child-man rant about his students being dunderhead in potions when he didn't even try to actually teach.

When the spell finally stopped, for the bloody 7th time this evening, Harry wasn't able to tell anymore if his trembling hand were from pain or if the rage he was feeling had also something to do with it.

"You see?" gleefully gloated the abomination that Voldemort had resurrected in as "I have nothing to fear from this wretched boy!"

This only added fuel to Harry's rage, who closed his fist in an effort to stop it from trembling like a leaf in the wind. He was going to die, of that he was almost certain, but if he was to go on what the Twinkling-eyed goat called 'The next great adventure', he sure as hell wasn't going to be flat on his stomach when the killing blow struck! No! His parents had fought until the bitter end, and so would he!

Slowly, as fast as his exhortingly painfully mascle allowed him, Harry brought his arms under him, wincing in the effort.

"That's it, boy! Get up!" he suddenly heard someone order him, in a whisper

"Get up Harry!" he heard a second voice, this time feminine, say

"W-who?" Harry whispered, unable to talk any louder with his throat so sore from screaming

"Does it really matter right now? Focus on the enemy!" the first voice said

"You've been brave, all your life," the woman said "Don't falter now"

"I'm not brave" Harry sighed "I'm weak. And terrified!"

"And yet, here you are, refusing to die without a fight. You are a true Potter, stubborn to the end" she said with a hint of amusement in her voice

"And you're not weak! If that meddling old fool hadn't bounded almost all of your magic, you would have squashed this daddy issues filled coward!" the first voice growled

"My magic was bound? Dumbledore did it?"

"Your magic IS bound. I would say 75% percent of it" she said

"Can you remove it? The bounds?"

"We could," he said carefully "Especially if the others help too. But it would be right down painfully for us to do it this way"

"I'm already in pain" Harry shook his head slightly, bringing a knee under him "And what's that about others?"

"The Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter has been known throughout the ages for their fighting prowesses, even before it was known as the Potter family," he said, a little boastfully