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Author's Note: This is a story that just came to me. Harry's family and family's history rarely seem to be the focus of a story. Some use "Granny Black", Peverell, or Gryffindor to give Harry more titles so that he becomes unnaturally powerful. It is, of course, difficult dealing with more OCs and their untameable personalities (Dumbledore, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione are enough as it is!), but there is usually something missing, some historical context. I wanted it, so I wrote it :P It is possible that I missed a story that goes deeply into the Potter Family. If it's a good story, feel free to PM it to me.

I am not abandoning my other story, One with Magic. I just need a bit of refreshing. I will be updating The Power of the Potters every other week to every third week. But, of course, having a lot of reviews, a lot of follows and favorites motivates me to write quicker!

Enough of the bla bla. Without further ado, the story.

Disclaimer: I just own the characters and plot that JKR doesn't. If you notice similarities to your own story, hit me up, and let's see what happened...

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Chapter One: The Letter

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Harry awoke in a cold sweat with his scream muffled by a pillow.

He didn't remember the nightmare he just escaped from, but he knew it was similar to the numerous other nightmares that had plagued him since the night of the Third Task.

A heartless - "Kill the spare" - followed by Cedric Diggory's lifeless yet surprised eyes.

In some of the more vicious dreams, Cedric's corpse would turn to Harry and inquire sadly, "Why didn't you save me, Harry. I would have saved you!"

Harry slammed his eyes shut to prevent at least some of the tears from falling, and slowly climbed out of bed to start his day.

He had been back with his "family" at Privet Drive for a little over two weeks now. He had originally decided to do as he had planned in previous years: stay in his bedroom until he had served his annual sentence and pray that someone came soon after to release him. This summer was an interesting exception to that plan.

Hedwig gave a small snore-hoot from her perch. Today was the first day she decided to stay in. Maybe she needs a rest from all of the letters I've been sending?

Thankfully, the Dursleys allowed him to let her free at night and did not keep her locked up. Then again, he had had to sell himself to them this summer for that boon.

The nightmarish replays of that night and the guilt of Cedric's death had pressed in on him within the walls of his room. After two hellish nights, Harry had come up with a compromise that seemed to benefit everyone. Well, everyone except him.

He would try to sleep, but usually, once he had inevitably woken up from a nightmare, he would go through the house and do all of the chores in exchange for a few boons. Something about the familiarity of the tedious and meticulous work of cleaning up after the Dursleys gave him peace. And he was, in return, allowed to eat on his own and keep his "freakishness" within the shadows of his room.

And they say indentured slavery was abolished.

For the first time, and out of sheer boredom, he had finished all of his summer assignments for Hogwarts and reread nearly every book in his possession. Of course, he didn't actually have too many books. Maybe I should ask Hermione for some. She couldn't possibly refuse to answer a request for information like she's been ignoring my letters. Nevertheless, it scared him a bit that he managed all of that in two weeks.

I guess sleeping only 3-4 hours a night will do that to a bloke.

Robotically, he made his way through the house. Since it was Tuesday, there wasn't much to be done. Uncle Vernon always worked late on Mondays and came home tired. Aunt Petunia made her social rounds to the other nosey ladies to gossip about what happened in the neighborhood over the weekend on Mondays. And Dudley nursed his hangover - or flu, as his parents believed. So Harry had completed the bulk of his tasks on Monday.

The sun was nowhere near close to rising, so making breakfast was out of the question.

Somehow, Harry found himself sitting underneath the slowly disappearing stars on the well-worn swings of the neighborhood park. Had any of the neighbors been awake to see him sitting in his pajamas at four o'clock in the morning with a mug of tea and a sandwich, he knew it would have only confirmed the neighborhood rumors of him not being all there.

Not that many within the wizarding world would think differently of him. Last year alone, he had been publically defamed as a liar, cheater, backstabber, attention-seeker and many other names due to his involuntary participation in the Triwizard Tournament.

He shuddered at the thought of what was currently being said or written about him in the aftermath of the Third Task with Voldemort's return and Cedric's death. He was, however, more worried about what Voldemort was up to.

His history books left little to the imagination on how bloody, vicious and terrible Voldemort's last reign of terror had been for both the wizarding and muggle worlds. There was a reason why Voldemort's name was not mentioned even after his defeat in 1981 at Harry's infant hands. Harry religiously watched the morning news for any, for the muggles, inexplicable occurrences, terrorist attacks or gas-pipe leakages (according to the historian Bathilda Bagshot, that was the Ministry of Magic's main cover-up technique during the last war).

But there was nothing, except that weird 'Boom' song from the Outhere Brothers and the exhausting heat wave.

Maybe he is somehow keeping the murders quiet. Maybe he's only attacking in the wizarding world... Maybe he's laying low at the moment.

Although Harry half-expected to return to a war-torn wizarding world in a few weeks, nothing scared him more than Voldemort hiding in the shadows, biding his time to make a big strike. If Fudge was still in denial, as he had been in the Hospital Wing a few weeks back, this would not bode well for the wizarding world.

He wished he had someone to tell him what was going on. After two letters to each Ron, Hermione and Sirius, and no responses, Harry had all but given up.

HOOT

CRUNCH

Harry jumped from the swing, grabbing his wand out of his back pocket. Scanning the small park with a trembling hand, he noticed, no small hint of embarrassment, the regal-looking brown owl on top of the swing-set. It bore a special protection medallion that identified all Gringott's owls.

"You didn't have to scare me like that, ruddy owl!" Harry whispered. Though the owl had startled him, he was sure there had been another crunching sound from the bushes.

Writing the sound off as a wild animal, possibly fleeing from the owl, Harry stowed his wand away and approached the pretentious owl.

With a rather impatient hoot, the owl presented its leg and its burden. It pecked Harry hard on the head as his trembling fingers pinched its brown, sensitive leg feathers before taking off the second it was released from its burden.

"Bloody menace!" Harry yelled at the bird's retreating form.

Harry took the letter in both hands and almost dropped it immediately. His loud gasp echoed eerily in the park.

Quickly, he gathered up his discarded tea mug, left the remains of his sandwich for the animals, and all but ran back to the house staring at the name on the rather heavy, official-looking letter:

Goblin Secured Post

From: Virgil Orville Potter, Head of the Australian Cadet Branch, Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter

To: Henry (Harry) James Potter, Lord Apparent and Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter

To Be Read Immediately

Portkey Activation 10 Minutes Post-opening

Self-destruct 5 Minutes Post-delivery if not opened

He never heard the crack of apparition from the panicked Order member behind him.

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Many thanks to Marc the Unruly for bearing with me and betaing! You're the best.