A/N: I'm back with another story, those plot bunnies just seem to keep coming. Please let me know if this story seems interesting enough to continue – I find it interesting but I like to know what all of you think.

Oh, the title is latin for 'Future Sight', if it's wrong let me know I just used a internet translation site.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it, and I do not make any profit from the writing of this story. Unless you count the good feeling I get when I get reviews *hint hint*

Oris Postremo

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

By crimson_phoenix

Prologue

It all started on a sunny weekday in Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry was four years old, and knew a lot more than he should, not just for someone his age, but for anyone.

Actually, we should start just after Harry was born, on July 31st 1980, not that anyone other than Harry would know about this, and he would probably not tell you anyway.

Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James, was often said to be a very quiet child, a blessing to his parents and anyone charged with looking after him. No one seemed to worry about why he was quiet – he just was.

The missing factor in this was simple, Harry was gifted. He was a seer; gaining knowledge of the future, past and present, and aging him internally before his time, even with his low ability to understand what he was seeing.

Now you would think, understandably, that something like this would cause a child to cry more rather than less. However, in Harry's case something inside of him told him that crying would not help – it would not stop what he saw, or change it, and his parents nor anyone else could do so either – so he did not cry about it and just accepted it as it was.

By the time he had reached his first birthday, the prophecy had been made and the family was in hiding, Harry had seen many things, including his own family's death, although he did not know that that was what it meant. So as Halloween crept closer, Harry started to become more agitated, he slept less, he screamed more, and Lily and James were hard-pressed to find the reason for little Harry's change.

When Halloween dawned, Harry became deathly quiet. He didn't scream, laugh, gurgle or make any other sort of noise and Lily often had to fight the urge to check that he was even still breathing.

Lily was trying to get Harry to sleep when James felt the wards fall and shouted for her to run, but it was already too late. Harry knew what was happening, what was going to happen, even at his tender age. He also knew that it could not be changed, would not be changed, and just watched.

The young child did not worry, the knowledge had shown him he would survive, and that was all that was needed.

Events played out, and young Harry was left sleeping on the doorstep of his new future, unplagued by visions and flashes.

The collision of the curse of death and his young soul had irrevocably altered his gift. For a few years to come he would see and know no more than he already did and should, as his body, mind and magic adjusted and evolved. Until that same sunny weekday mentioned before, where a very small four year old changed his own world with an umbrella.