Having Helen in my head was just about the oddest thing I had experienced so far… and I had experienced a lot of odd things since coming to Hogwarts, and even before that. But hearing voices – or rather, one voice – in my head was a new one, even for me.

By now, I was quite convinced that no, I wasn't imagining things and that she was really there, though I couldn't quite imagine how that would be possible. I was determined to tell my friends about her – at least Ron and Hermione – but I wasn't sure where to start. "Hey guys, I'm hearing voices" might not have been the right opening for that particular conversation…

Helen herself wasn't particularly helpful in that respect. She was caught up in raptures about being able to see, hear and feel things. I constantly had to remind her that I was at my aunt's and uncle's house and not allowed to do any magic – I still didn't know why her fooling around with my wand hadn't been detected by the Ministry, but I knew that I'd be in huge trouble, if they ever learned about it.

Why don't you just run off to Ron's? Helen asked. They're mean to you and you hate them, so why stay here and suffer?

"Because Dumbledore told me to stay," I explained patiently.

Why would he want you to suffer? He likes you. I'm sure there has been a mistake…

Somehow, she seemed to know a lot more about me than I knew about her, which was kind of unfair. It was nice to have someone to talk to, though, and her knowledge of my past and present meant that I didn't have to explain everything.

"It's all about the protective magic Mum worked to keep me safe," I told her. "It only works when I'm around blood relatives."

Don't you have any other relatives?

"None that I'd know of."

You know, that's kind of sad, Harry. I felt her pity, and somehow, it didn't bother me, because I knew the feeling to be genuine.

"Yeah. It also means that I'm locked up in here till the end of summer and that I can't do any magic. I still can't believe my luck at escaping the Ministry when you used my wand."

But that's just the point, isn't it? I used your wand. You didn't do it, so the Ministry didn't catch you.

"It was still my hand that moved."

I don't think that matters. It's the will behind the spell. Hey, you know what? I reckon that you could wave your wand around as much as you wanted to, as long as it was me casting the spell. Their sensors can't pick it up, because there's a division between the body and the mind… I'm not really a corporeal being right now, am I?

That made sense to me, but I wasn't too thrilled at the prospect of testing her theory. "This could get me expelled," I told her.

Only if they catch you, Harry. And if they do, you can still tell them that the voice in your head made you do it. Wouldn't even be a lie.

I could almost hear her chuckle as I felt her amusement flooding through me.

Come on, don't be such a coward, she urged.

"Helen, I really don't think that this is such a good idea… the Ministry…"

Screw the Ministry! They are blind. They don't know who I am, or where I am, for that matter.

"Okay, so, what do you want to do?"

Oh, I don't know… just something… how about you practice a bit for school?

"You want me to illegally work magic in order to practice for school? During the holidays? That's… you're worse than Hermione, Helen!"

I'll take that as a compliment. I think I like her.

"You don't even know her!"

I know her from your memories and she seems a very likeable person. A lot more sensible than Ron, but he's more fun.

It was hard to argue that, but somehow, I thought it odd that she should know my friends from my memories. But on the other hand, she was inside my head, wasn't she? She probably knew just about everything there was to know about me.

Not everything. But almost. And I know that you haven't done any homework so far.

"It's the holidays, Helen. No one does homework during their holidays."

Hermione does.

"Well, Hermione is a little strange in that respect. But I can assure you that no one else does."

I will. Or rather… we will, since I can't do a thing without you. Come on, Harry. It's not as if you had anything else to do.

Unfortunately, she was right. I walked over to the desk and picked up my wand.

"What now?"

Just relax, Helen said.

I took a deep breath and tried to think of nothing at all (it didn't work too well; somehow, it never does, when you concentrate on it). I closed my eyes.

Helen opened them for me.

It was a strange feeling, I was still inside my own body and very well aware of my surroundings, yet I was reduced to a strange passivity. As I watched Helen control my body, I was very glad that she had promised never to do this against my will. It was really, really creepy.

She flipped through the pages of one of my spell books before pausing at one. "Let's do this one."

It was one of the simpler Transfigurations spells, intended to make apparently lifeless seeds like nuts or rice grow into small plants. In fact, there is no such thing as an easy Transfigurations spell, and Helen discovered that pretty quickly. It annoyed her to no end, but she was determined not to give up until she had mastered the spell.

Hedwig was looking at us skeptically from her cage, while Helen attempted to change the walnut on my desk for the umpteenth time, cursing softly under her breath.

A noise at the window turned my attention away from Helen and I tried to look up, just as Helen burst into a triumphant shout of "Ha! I did it!". My will pushed against hers, as I tried to raise my head, while she was still in control of my body, but as I had caught her by surprise, she lost the struggle and my head jerked up a little more forcibly than I'd intended.

Hey! What was that for?

"Sorry," I apologized, "I'm just not used to having someone else use my body. Look!"

I pointed at the window. Two owls sat on the windowsill, both carrying parcels.

Birthday presents! Helen called excitedly, I'd almost forgotten about that! Happy birthday, Harry! I'm sorry I can't hug you.

"Um… it's okay, Helen. I've survived the last thirteen years without getting hugs on my birthday."

Go on, let them in! You need to open your presents! They are from Ron and Hermione, aren't they?

They were, and I was happy to see that my friends hadn't forgotten me. Ron's birthday card even mentioned the possibility of me getting to spend some time at the Burrow and maybe going to the Quidditch World Cup, and that was about as good as life could get.

I wonder when my birthday is, Helen mused.

"You don't know?" I asked, surprised. "But you do know how old you are, don't you?"

About your age, I think.

In the beginning, I would have thought her to be older, especially considering my theory about that wrongly brewed potion, but I took her excitability and eagerness to experience as signs of youth, so it somehow made sense that she shouldn't be that much older than I was. Besides, Helen could be really silly and gigglish, sometimes.

We spent the rest of my birthday testing Helen's abilities by trying to conjure up a birthday cake (it didn't work, but we had fun trying) and trying to figure out how to get people to believe that she really was there, inside my head.

Helen assured me that everything would turn out for the better in the end, but I wasn't so sure about that. Somehow, I lacked that optimism she possessed in abundance.

That night, I dreamt of Voldemort and my scar burned.

Both Helen and I woke up screaming, panting and covered in cold sweat from the vivid dream.

So that's Wormtail? Helen asked. He's disgusting!

"A sniveling rat," I agreed, "but I'm more worried about Voldemort right now."

Right. But he can't be anywhere near, can he?

"I don't see how that would be possible… yet… my scar only hurts when he's close by…"

I sensed her fear, and I, too, was scared by the thought of Voldemort coming to haunt Privet Drive. There was another feeling emanating from Helen, though, and I couldn't quite understand it.

"Why are you angry?" I asked, puzzled.

Because they killed that poor man and he never even had a chance to escape! And he killed your parents to, that monster!

So she was angry at Voldemort on my behalf?

I guess… I don't know. Somehow, just to think of it makes me furious!

Helen suggested writing to Hermione to tell her about the dream and the scar and ask for her help, but I didn't want to scare either Ron or Hermione, and I felt embarrassed about bothering Dumbledore with it. We agreed to write to Sirius, though, and I felt a bit better, after I had sent off Hedwig with the letter.

In case anyone is wondering about Harry's and Helen's distinctively non-British way of speaking (and thinking) - I spent only about a week in London, but close to eleven months in the States. Moreover, most of my favorite English-speaking writers are either American or Canadian, or they have been dead for so long that I can hardly copy their style. I apologize, but I'm just not very good with British English. Oh well... nobody's perfect...