Title: Harry Potter and the Seer of Time

Author: Athey [previously Aya Macchiato]

Adopter: Akirina

Summary: Alt Universe - Harry Potter is a very strange child. He KNOWS things. Things he shouldn't know. What if Harry was born with a powerful seers sight? intelligent, driven, independent, parselmagic, parselmouth. A do-over sort of story, but not.

Adopter's notes: Hey guys, this story is adopted from Aya Macchiato, currently Athey. I've got her permission to continue her story, so I'll be posting the chapters from her work and I will add on to the chapters.

I haven't done any editions to the 18 chapters+prologue she wrote, so Chapter 19 onwards is all mine. I hope it's alright... I did an alteration of this fanfiction, though. There were a few weaknesses in the original plotline and I was considering doing a whole new version of this. However, I decided to stick with this and finish up the original work before I started on my version of how events would have turned out.

I hope that I will be able to do a good job of finishing this story, seeing as it is a different writing style and I am not sure whether I will be able to do a satisfactory job of portraying Harry as Athey did. So please be patient with me and if there are any areas I can touch up on, review please! Also, I will be uploading very slowly because it's the exams now and I have left this aside for quite some time. Updates will not be frequent because I am graduating this year, too. So I'm sorry if this story goes for one or two months without any updates!

And lastly, enjoy!



Harry Potter was a very strange child. He had always been different. In fact, he had realized at a very very young age that he was different, but he didn't honestly care much.

You see, Harry knew things. Things that no small child should know. He also acted very oddly for a child. He was often very quiet, with a distant, thoughtful expression on his face. He would sit in silence, staring off into the distance, doing absolutely nothing for hours. Sometimes he would crack a smile, or even giggle lightly. Other times he would scowl or look sad, for apparently no reason at all.

Harry Potter lived with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, and their son, Dudley, because his own parents had died when he was just over a year old.

His Aunt and Uncle had told him that his parents died in a car crash, but Harry knew that wasn't the truth. He never told them he knew, or how he knew however, because honestly... he just did.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley prided themselves in being as plane, normal, and boring as possible. Anything strange or out of the ordinary was the worst sort of thing, and since Harry was so obviously odd, they absolutely despised having to care for the boy.

For the first five years of his life spent with the Dursley's, Harry's 'bedroom' was actually the cupboard under the stairs. As soon as he was tall enough to reach, he was forced to do the cooking and cleaning around the house, and was only fed table scraps, while the Dursley's spoiled their own chubby little Dudders, rotten.

And yet, oddly enough, Harry never lashed out at his Aunt and Uncle. He never spoke ill to them, or protested his treatment. He took care of his tasks quickly and without any argument.

His exceptionally odd reactions only put the Dursley's off, even more. They knew that Harry was destined to be as freakish and unnatural as his parents had been, but his behavior was too strange to be explained by that alone. There was clearly something more, wrong with the boy.

One morning, during the summer that Harry would turn six years old, an event took place that would begin a string of events that would change the way the Dursley's treated Harry, for the rest of his life.

Vernon Dursley was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, while Petunia sat fussing with Dudley's hair. Harry was standing on a step stool at the stove, fixing the eggs and bacon for his relative's breakfast.

After bringing the food to the table, Harry sat perfectly still in his seat, with that strange vacant look in his eyes while he seemed to stare at a distant spot on the flowered wallpaper. The Dursley's all filled up their plates, leaving nothing but tiny scraps for Harry. Once they were all done loading up their plates, Harry took what was left and began to eat.

Vernon was muttering things about the economy and finances as he looked over the business section of the paper. Eventually his mutterings shifted to Harry and the financial burden he put on their family. This was a very common complaint of Vernon's. Of course, Harry was hardly a financial burden at all since he barely ate anything, they never bought him any toys, and all of his clothes were hand-me-downs from Dudley. But that would never stop Vernon from complaining about the boy.

Vernon grumbled, once again, about how Harry was a freeloader and didn't do enough to warrant his expense to their family.

Harry looked at his uncle with a critical eye for a moment and the intense gaze caught Vernon's eye and startled him deeply. Harry's eyes were rarely that focused and the look to the strange boy was extremely unnerving.

"What the devil are you looking at boy!" Vernon bellowed, angrily.

Harry was quiet for a moment, and the intense gaze of his piercing green eyes, combined with the strange silence sent a shiver down Vernon's spine.

"Can I look at your paper?" Harry asked suddenly.

The request was so strange and unexpected that Vernon handed the paper over without a word. He just stared at the boy in stunned silence.

Harry took the paper, stood up and walked to the counter, picking up a pen and looking critically at the page in front of him for a moment before writing several things on it. He set that page aside and flipped to a different section and wrote a few other things.

The three Dursley's sat in bewildered silence, staring at the extremely odd boy, unsure of what to do. Even Vernon was too shocked and confused to yell at Harry for his odd behavior.

Harry had never done anything like this before, and they couldn't imagine what on earth it could mean.

Harry took the two pages that he had marked, folded them so that only the portion that he had worked on was displayed and walked back over to the table, handing them to his uncle.

"What the devil is this?" Vernon sputtered taking the pages.

"One is the sports section. I've listed what the scores will be for those games," Harry said, reaching over and pointing at the list of different professional games that would be coming up in the next few weeks.

Vernon's eyes widened and his face began to shift slightly purple.

"There, in the section on the horse races, I circled the horses that would win certain races, and noted beside the horse's name what races they would win," Harry continued, pointing to a different section of the paper. "And the other page is the business section. You invest in Cunnings Motors, right?"

Vernon's mouth hung open slightly and he did not respond but Harry continued anyway.

"You should sell by the middle of next month. They're going to loose a bidding war or something, and their stock will drop a bunch. You'd do better to move all of your investment in Cunnings over to Stark and Sterling Corp. They're in the middle of a buyout, but no one knows it yet. Once it's done any of their stock will be worth twice as much. You've got two weeks before you really need to worry about the stock stuff, and you can use the sporting events to confirm what I'm saying is accurate."

Harry smiled softly, shrugged, and went back to eating his food as if he hadn't done a single thing out of the ordinary.

It was probably the most that Harry had spoken to his relatives in a single setting... ever. Compound to that, the oddly adult way he spoke, and the subject matter he spoke of... Vernon sat entirely dumbfounded for a moment before he shook himself and looked down at the papers sitting in front of him.

His initial instinct was to be angry and yell at the boy. That was quickly replaced with horror at the boys unnaturalness, and worries that what Harry had said had to be related to his particular oddity. But then another voice began to grow in the back of his mind. The greedy part.

What if...?

Two weeks later, Vernon sat at the kitchen table, early in the morning before anyone else had come down yet, pondering what he was going to do. Harry had not said a single exceptionally odd thing since the initial incident with the newspaper two weeks prior. He had gone back to his normal, abnormal behavior.

Vernon had kept the two pages of newsprint with him and had checked the results of every one of the listed sporting events. Initially he did this with great embarrassment. He would have ignored the entire bewildering event but his greedy nature overpowered the part of him that wanted to pretend that it had never happened and he had sat himself in front of the telly that night to watch the sports newscaster as he discussed the games that had taken place that day and their scores.

They were exactly as the boy had said.

Another of the listed games took place three days later, and again, the scores were exact. Vernon left the house in secret to attend the horse races that took place that following weekend and after the first race Harry listed turned out exactly as the boy had predicted, Vernon placed bets on each subsequent race, and won.

Vernon's hateful glares at the boy had shifted during this passage of time. Instead of utter disgust, his eyes were narrowed with suspicion and curiosity.

Was it perhaps possible that the boy could actually be of some use?

They had been forced into this situation by the frighteningly odd old man who had insisted that Harry had to stay with a blood relative if he were to remain safe. Safe from what, Vernon truly had no idea, but he knew he didn't like the idea of the freak being anywhere near his family. Not only because of some slim chance that the boy posed a danger to them, but also the worry that his oddities could some how rub off on their precious Dudders.

His presence had been nothing more than a thorn in Vernon's side for the past five years and he had never seen even the slightest value in having to take the wretched boy in. Could the horrid child finally prove to be worth something?

Vernon got up and walked into the hall and unlocked the door to the cupboard that Harry called his room, but didn't bang on the door and yell as was normal.

Harry emerged from his 'room' a moment later and went to the bathroom to complete his morning business before entering the kitchen where Vernon had resumed his previous seat. Harry didn't begin preparing breakfast as he normally would. Instead he joined his uncle at the table and sat down quietly to watch Vernon patiently.

Nearly five minutes passed in utter silence before Vernon Dursley raised his head and looked at the boy through narrow, critical eyes.

"How'd you do it, boy?" he asked in a low tone.

"I see things," Harry replied simply.

Vernon's eyes narrowed even further and he rose one eyebrow.

"What sort of things?"

"Things that haven't happened yet, and sometimes things that happened a long time ago," Harry shrugged. He looked away with distant unfocused eyes locked on the wall as his head cocked slightly to the side. "I see them mostly in my dreams. But lately I've started to figure out how to see some things when I'm awake. I'm getting so I can control it now too. Or I can try to, at least."

Vernon gawked at Harry for a moment. He could feel his blood pressure rising at the implications of what Harry was suggesting, but forced himself to push his initial responses aside. There was potential here. If he let his anger and disgust for the boy's oddness win, he could be missing out on an incredible opportunity.

Vernon was about to open his mouth when Harry cut him off and continued.

"I know I'm different. I know my parents were different too," Harry said, his bright green eyes piercing right through his uncle. At these words Vernon's jaw snapped shut and his eyes widened. "I want Dudley's second bedroom, and new clothes that are my own. I want to be able to eat more than the scraps left over from Dudders. In exchange, every morning I will mark up your paper with anything that seems important."

Vernon's jaw slowly dropped open as he sat there stunned and listened to the small boy make his demands.

"Should I stick to the horse and greyhound races, and football, or should I focus on the business section?" the small boy asked. His words didn't seem to match his innocent, youthful appearance, and young voice. It was an oddly unnatural experience and it sent shivers through Vernon's very being.

Harry's eyes unfocused and his head tilted slightly to the side again. Vernon stiffened at the behavior that he was slowly beginning to recognize, and waited for the boy's focus to return to him.

"How about the National Lottery?"

"What?" Vernon sputtered.

"It'll draw more attention... but it'll be a one time thing and you won't have to go down to the tracks every week for the races. If you keep that up too much the neighbors might start to thing you have a gambling problem. Plus the bookmakers will start to notice after a while that you're always winning. I'm not positive I can do it, but I think I can get you the numbers to the lottery. We'd really only be able to get away with that once. If you kept getting winning lottery tickets it would draw attention."

Vernon gaped at the boy, but slowly a fire began to burn deep in his chest as his spinning mind began to wrap itself around the prospects placed before him.

His lips curled up into wicked grin.

"So, do we have a deal?" Harry asked, drawing his uncles attention back to him.

Vernon looked speculatively at Harry for a moment before nodding his head. Harry reached across, offering his hand. Vernon looked at it, slightly horrified at the prospect of having to touch the boy, but finally reached out and took a hold of the small hand and shook it.

Harry gave his relatives smaller things for the first two months. He stuck to stock tips and sporting results. He wasn't willing to hand over anything huge, like winning lottery numbers, until he'd gotten what he wanted. He was moved out of the tiny, spider-filled cupboard into Dudley's second bedroom, and provided with a new wardrobe and some actual toys for the first time in his life.

The toys weren't terribly fancy, and weren't even remotely comparable to the things that Dudley got on a daily basis, but Harry really wasn't interested in those.

Vernon and Petunia instructed their son to stop his assaults on Harry, and to instead simply stay as far away from the boy as possible during the weekdays when they returned to school that fall.

Dudley and his over-sized bully-friends stopped in their efforts to scare off anyone who would attempt to get anywhere near the odd boy, but that didn't mean he was suddenly able to make friends. This didn't seem to bother Harry, as he wasn't making any attempts to make friends anyway.

By the end of September of that year, Harry gave Vernon the numbers to the next national lottery draw.

The ticket got him £200,000 and Vernon was beyond ecstatic.

The following spring Harry expressed the desire to begin taking karate, and while Vernon's instinctive reaction was to refuse, he held his tongue and permitted it. Harry had continued to give Vernon advice on when to sell any of his stock holdings, and whenever a particularly smart investment cropped up. As long as the boy was earning him more money than Vernon would have ever expected to make without him, he was more than willing to bend to the few, meager, requests the boy made.

Harry never made any unreasonable demands. Honestly, he could have asked for much, much more, and Vernon still would have easily agreed.

Harry rarely asked for toys. He wanted freedom to roam, and occasionally asked for some money of his own so he could take care of his own shopping. When Petunia would enter his room, she found mostly books littering his shelves and floor.

Harry still prepared breakfast and did the dishes for each meal, but Petunia took care of dinner, and all of the laundry. With their new financial comfort, they hired a gardener to take care of the yard.

One day during the spring of Harry's 8th year, Petunia entered Harry's room to collect his clothes and her eyes were drawn to an odd looking book that sat atop a tall stack of equally odd looking books on his small wooden desk.

It was a very old looking book with tattered binding that looked like it should be falling apart, and yet it was oddly enough, not.

'Unfogging the Future'by Cassandra Vablatsky

She pushed the book aside and read the title of the book beneath it. 'The Dark Forces: A guide to Self-Protection' by Quentin Trimble. She shoved it aside next to find 'Magical Theory' by Adalbert Waffling beneath it.

"Aunt Petunia?"a voice said from behind her, causing Petunia to jump and spin around. She stared down at her small nephew with wide horrified eyes.

"Where did you find these books?" she hissed in a whisper.

Harry shrugged and walked around her to his desk, returning it to the state it was in before his aunt entered.

"Muggles never realize what they have when they come into possession of things like this. They get sorted into the fantasy section of used book stores, but if you know what to look for, they're not that hard to find," Harry said, nonchalantly.

Petunia feared her heart would pound right out of her chest as she heard that word uttered by her freak nephew.


How did he find out? But then again, how the blazes did he know any of the freakish things he knew?

A stunned moment passed before Petunia regained enough of her composure to speak again.

"You're not allowed to... to... There are laws! You're under age, and... and we don't want any of that... unnaturalness under our roof," she hissed.

"You mean magic?" Harry said, turning around and raising an eyebrow at his aunt; a slightly wry grin on his lips.

Petunia bristled and her nostrils flared.

"You do realize that it was magic that won Uncle Vernon the lottery two years ago, don't you? I mean, it's not the normal type of magic; no wand waving or spells, but it's still magic. Most can't do what I do," Harry said, and his eyes grew distant for a moment before he chuckled and shrugged. "I guess I'm a freak among freaks. But it doesn't matter anyway."

Harry stepped away from his desk and stood beside his open bedroom door and looked at his aunt expectantly.

"Don't worry. I won't be doing any under-aged magic here. At least, none of the kind that anyone can detect. But that doesn't mean I can't read about it. No harm in owning a few books, is there?"

Petunia's mouth floundered as she stared at the extraordinarily odd spawn of her freak sister.

"I've got class tonight," Harry said, his eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance. "I need to change into my gi. Do you mind?"

Petunia nodded hesitantly and walked out the room slowly, never removing her eyes from Harry until she was out of the room, and he closed the door behind her.