Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was sitting at Number 4 Privet Drive on the first night of what would hopefully be his last summer here. He would turn 17 on the 31st of July and the Order would be there to take him to Headquarters.
He only had to last to last 2 ½ months. He figured he could manage the muggles for that long. He figured if he did what the muggles asked and stayed in his room the rest of the time, he'd be able to skate through this summer with as few problems as possible.
It was nearing midnight on his first night back and Harry Potter couldn't sleep. He was working on his summer assignments, Hermione would be proud. His uncle no longer locks up his school things, because Harry would sneak down and pick the lock on the cupboard, his uncle decided the summer before his fifth year not to bother.
Harry finished all of his Charms assignments within three hours. After, he decided he no longer wanted to do homework and laid in bed staring at the ceiling. He wished he could sleep at night like all his bunkmates at school. Instead he would lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, or the top of his four poster at Hogwarts.
"Harry" a voice whispered in the dark.
Harry, who had been drifting off, shot straight up in bed, looking around wildly. "Who's there?"
There was no answer.
Harry remained siting up in bed trying to calm down and think rationally. He had obviously been drifting off to sleep, so he had probably been partially dreaming and scared himself awake.
He laid back down, deciding to ignore it. It was probably nothing anyway. Nothing but his overactive imagination, dreaming before he's truly asleep.
"Harry Potter."
Harry's eyes shot open. That was definitely not his imagination. He was hearing voices. Someone was calling his name.
"Who's there?" he asked again, to no one.
His room was not that large, and it was lit with moonlight. He could clearly see no one was in here. No one magical could get through the wards, at least no one who was a foe. And he didn't see why someone from his side would remain invisible. It served them no purpose.
No one answered his question. He didn't know what was happening. Was he finally going crazy?
"You're not going crazy, Harry," the voice spoke.
"Seriously, where are you?" Harry demanded.
"It's all in your head, Harry."
That's when Harry felt the searing pain in his scar. His head felt like it was going to split apart. He grabbed at his forehead, clawing at it.
Harry chanted, "Please, stop," over and over again.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," the voice caressed.
The pain soothed.
"What's happening? What are you? I'm going crazy. It's finally happening," Harry muttered.
The pain had been like nothing before. Even when Voldemort had been in his head it hadn't hurt this bad.
"Shit," he swore. "Are you Voldemort?"
There was no answer. Only a ringing silence.
Maybe he was going crazy.
Harry hadn't heard the voice in over a week. In fact, he'd nearly forgotten about it. Though sometimes when he couldn't sleep at night, the memory of the voice would creep in and cause him to become paranoid and hyperaware of every noise.
It was early Sunday morning, probably one or two a.m. when he heard it again.
"Harry Potter."
Harry tried to ignore it. Pretending it never happened seemed like a better choice than to acknowledge the voice. If he pretended it wasn't there, maybe it would go away.
"You can't escape me, Harry."
Harry flinched away at the sound. And now he could tell, the sound was reverberating inside his own head.
'Merlin, I am crazy,' Harry thinks to himself. "Who are you? Where are you?"
"I am you, Harry. Or at least, I am a part of you."
"Am I dreaming?"
"You are very much awake, Harry. You needn't speak aloud. I am you. I know your thoughts, your dreams, everything you've ever imagined, I have an all access pass to."
'I don't understand,' Harry thinks this time. 'Are you my conscious?'
"You could call me that, if you want. But, no, Harry. I am not your conscious. I am part of your soul."
'How am I talking to my soul? How come I've never heard you before this?' Harry thinks.
"I do not know. You have opened the connection, Harry Potter."
'If you are me, why do you call me Harry?' Harry is even more confused now, then he was before he knew what the voice was. And he's beginning to think he truly is insane. Maybe he should contact the Order. Maybe Remus would know what was happening or Mr. Weasley.
"I'd advise against that, young Potter. They wouldn't understand. You see, I wasn't always a part of you, Harry. I was put here, many years ago. When you were just a baby. I have since grown within you, becoming a part of you, and now, I grow stronger. I know not why. Only you have the answer to that."
'How can I possibly have the answer to that when I don't know what you are? And what do you mean you were put inside me? What does that mean?'
"I do not have all the answers you seek. I only know I am the part of your soul that is dark. The part that until recently has been buried by the greater light part of your soul. But I grow stronger."
"Well if I can't ask the Order, who can I ask? And I am not dark! I am the Savior of the Light, The Chose One, and the Boy Who Lived. I can't be dark," this time Harry spoke aloud, aggravated. He was not dark. He couldn't be. He'd never thought anything or done anything evil in his life. He was not dark!
"I only tell you what I know, Harry. If you want to know more, I suggest you seek out the one who put me here."
'Well, who is that?'
"Tom Riddle."
"Voldemort?!" Harry practically yelled.
"Shh, Potter. Wouldn't want to wake the muggles now, would we? If you want to know more, it is he you must ask."
'And exactly how would you have me go about finding him? He isn't exactly the easiest man to find. And he'd probably kill me on the spot,' Harry scoffed.
"Be creative. I do not have all the answers."
"Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that," Harry muttered.
The voice does not respond.
The next morning, Harry had an idea.
He can send an owl to Voldemort. Owls can find anyone, anywhere. Hedwig could deliver a letter to Voldemort.
He got out a quill and parchment and sat staring at it for the longest time. What was he supposed to say in a letter to Voldemort of all people?
Dear Voldemort,
Voldemort,
Old Snake-face,
He didn't know how to start off the letter. What did he call him? Voldemort, arch-nemesis, some degrading nickname? He just didn't know.
Then he smirked, maybe there was a little bit of a dark masochist inside of him somewhere.
Riddle,
I'm writing to you on behalf of something you once left me. I don't want to go into any more details, in case of interception. I'm sure you understand. The information I have for you is of a sensitive nature. It's also very important. I ask that you hear me out before making any rash decisions. It can be for your own benefit as well as mine.
Yours Truly,
Harry J. Potter
Good enough for him. Harry shrugged and called for Hedwig.
"Take this to Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. Whatever it is you need to find him by," Harry told her.
She looked at him for a few seconds, as if saying, "Are you crazy?" But then she hooted and took off through the open window.
Now, Harry just had to sit back and wait.