Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains racism and somewhat graphic descriptions of child abuse. Please read at your own discretion.
Other Notes: Will feature Universe Alterations (such as POC characters, SAGA/LGBT characters, Houseswaps, Original Characters, etc)
:parseltongue: 'mental conversation/thoughts'
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliations, nor am I JKRowling. I am a poor ass college student who writes fanfiction. Yes, The beginnings of Mercury's Message and the sequel (this will be around a 10 book series) will be heavily based off the books in some areas, and then venture far, far away from them.
Abuse scenes are based off of the A Child Called It series and various episodes of Law and Order: SVU
Earth, Wind, Fire, and Air
(Or rather, An Introduction to the Elements)
When July came around, and Hari turned six, Companion bestowed a new gift upon him. Companion taught him how to change things. Hari could now transfigure useless objects he learned to hoard into books. Obviously he didn't need to hoard more than one or two things, as he could change them back and forth as he pleased (or rather, when there was danger of him being discovered), but Hari liked to pretend that each item was its own book.
The piece of tinfoil from his first rice pudding cup was a Potion's theory book, written in strange squiggles that Hari could read just as easy as english. The broken soldier man Dudley had thrown at him (accusing Hari of breaking it) was a book of magical history. Strips of an old, unusable, extra-ratty dishrag became Transfiguration for Beginners, Introduction to Alchemy, and Alchemy vs. Transfiguration.
He couldn't practice, let alone begin to imagine successfully attempting most of the theories and spells in his books. Most of them made no sense, and his Companion had to slither about and explain them in easier contexts.
Much like both his knowledge and his collection, Hari's companion had been growing too.
What had started out as a great snake nearly the length of Hari in dark red, was now over twice that length in shades of deep purple, borderline indigo. His eyes remained the same grey-blue from their first meeting, yet his personality had shifted just as much as his magic.
Instead of biting sarcasm or offended rants, Companion tended to attempt to explain the theories, their purposes, and in what ways they could possibly be necessary. Instead of long-winded (and mostly terrifying) tirades about how he would be most enjoyed to murder Hari's relatives, and exactly how it would go about, there were mainly hushed, hissed words of comfort while Hari was being beaten, a blanket of what felt like heavy river water covering his being.
Make no mistake that there still were rants and tirades of all sorts, and that his companion could pout like nobody's business (though Hari tried to keep that thought to himself). But Companion was trying, and that was what mattered most to Hari.
'Hari…' Hari felt pressure against the front of his head, much like how Ms. Figg's cats butt their heads against everything.
'Speaking of the devil.' Hari teased. He knew that his companion enjoyed nicknames like this.
'You're getting weaker.' He hissed.
Hari had foregone the idea of magically duplicating food that would disappear hours later, after almost getting caught twice.
The first time Hari had nearly been caught, it was only by Dudley. Hari hadn't worried much since the worst the Dursleys would do was to give Dudley a light punishment for imagining things and then punish Hari for the possibility of it being true. But Dudley didn't notice when one of his seven fruit cups had suddenly disappeared. He seemed a bit confused as he reached for more and there was none, but shrugged it off and merely went back to the fridge.
So Hari continued.
Then Mr. Vernon nearly caught him. He had been pilfering Ms. Petunia's baking graham crackers when suddenly one of the packages was open and half missing. Once that Vernon was sure he hadn't touched it yet, Vernon came to the conclusion that Hari must have nicked some food while Vernon hadn't been looking.
Hari had been cleaning the floors of the kitchen while Vernon was watching some sort of sport on the telly when suddenly he was ripped up by his hair and shoved into the bucket of dirty water. He struggled and fought, his small arms pushing against the flimsy plastic sides of the bucket as sweet, acidic liquid made its way up his nose and down his throat.
He thought that he would die there. For a moment he didn't mind as his vision spotted and his lungs seemed to burn. Then he was let up and all he could do was cough and wheeze, alternating between asphyxiating on the water spilling from his mouth and gulping down air.
It didn't last long.
The sponge he was using to clean was shoved in his mouth, the sharp chemical-filled water leaving stinging trails down his chin and neck. When Hari finally choked down the water from the sponge, swallowing the bits that his teeth ripped off, it was torn from his mouth.
When he was thrown onto the floor he braced himself against the floor, expelling rust coloured water from his stomach. His arms were shaking and his face was covered in vomit and tears leaked from his face. Hari thought it was over.
He was wrong.
He was once again pulled up by his hair, flung backwards onto his back. He watched Vernon lumber over him, his sleeves rolled up and his face purpling. His arms were soaked and his eyes glint when he forced the brown sponge back into Hari's mouth.
Hari tried to keep his mouth closed, holding his breath, until Vernon forced Hari's head back and squeezed the chemical-filled liquid into his nose. Violent, choking coughs wracked the small boy as Vernon forced the cleaning product back in Hari's mouth.
Over and over again He was forced to swallow the mop water, until the bucket was nearing empty and he was simply strewn to-and-fro in his own sick due to the amount.
He was saved by the least likely source—Ms. Petunia. Petunia had come in, holding an irate Eunice in what seemed be a too-tight tutu dress. She took one look at Vernon over Hari and shrieked.
"What are you doing to the floors, Vernon! We're having guests!"
She had been more concerned over the repulsive smell emanating from the Kitchen and whether or not it would stain rather than the potential body count her floor would soon gain.
So Hari had been left alone in his mess, instructed to clean it up before the guests arrived in an hour.
He had barely accomplished it, vomiting more than he was cleaning. On shaky arms and numb legs he finished his task, before passing out outside his cupboard.
He had been punished again later when Petunia had to stall so Vernon could shove him in.
Since then, Hari had not tried to duplicate food. Instead, he took to digging through scraps. He would pick off pieces of food left in pots and pans before he cleaned them, or after he was done cooking, dig through the garbage a few hours after meals when he learned it was safe, and even leave out food to spoil a bit to be thrown out.
He had not yet been discovered, and was becoming better with persuasion magic to make sure he wouldn't be.
He couldn't force someone to stay in a room, or make decisions they wouldn't normally, or choose actions that went against their personality; but he could cause distractions. A wondering about favourite tv shows on, even if they knew it wouldn't be, a push in the direction of needing to use the restroom, buying Hari a bit of time, or even something as simple as yawning or stretching to warn if how close someone was.
'You haven't eaten in days.'
Hari was currently being punished for burning just too much of Vernon's eggs. Petunia had decided that Hari's punishment would be to stay locked in his cupboard for an indeterminable amount of time.
He hadn't been let out to clean, eat, or use the restroom (Companion had to teach a rather mortified Hari a banishing spell when he finally couldn't hold it anymore).
It had been almost a week and Hari was feeling nauseous. He was too fearful of sneaking out since Eunice cried all hours of the night and kept up Ms. Petunia, but his chance was coming. It was Sunday and the Dursleys would be leaving.
He waited until he could no longer hear the roar of the engine in the driveway and slid his fingers along the crack of his door.
":Alohomora:," He hissed.
He slowly creaked open the door, peering out every direction before stepping out. He slipped quickly into the kitchen, his tiny feet echoing sharp slaps against the wood and tile in the house.
On the island counter there was a large, cooling casserole. His mouth watered at the sight of it. Though his burnt food usually tasted better than what Petunia whipped up, Hari was so hungry.
'Use an expansion charm. Then force it to stay.' His companion whispered.
Hari felt confused. 'What?'
'Take a small slice, or a few. Then expand the dish to cover the gaps.'
'Why didn't you teach me this earlier!?' Hari was upset. If he had known how to make food stay then he wouldn't have been punished. He forced himself to calm down—Companion must have a reason.
'The food is tasteless and will eventually vanish. When impacted it begins to dissolve. They would have noticed when they couldn't actually eat or their food wouldn't crunch beneath their teeth. If you had expanded your own food, it would have shrunk in your stomach.'
So he would have been punished anyway...or would of starved to death.
Hari took slivers along the ends of the dish, muttering Crescere to fill the gaps.
'How do I make it stay?'
'Lignum. It's a temporary sticking charm. Only focus on making the expansion charm stay, else the entire dish will stick to its container.'
Hari felt a bit silly as he pictured a whole casserole without the dish, but he did as told. He always would for Companion.
The few badly cooked slices of casserole sitting in Hari's cupped hands felt like a feast to him. He savored the feeling of food in his mouth rather than the taste, taking small nibbles and holding his breath when he held it in his mouth.
When he was finished he licked the remnants off of his hands, surprisingly without any comments of how revolting it was to lick his hands from Companion.
He began making his way back to the cupboard when he was stopped by soft scales pressing against his mind.
'You should be enjoying yourself.'
'I did. I ate.'
'You used to like the outdoors, why not venture outside?' His companion offered.
Hari thought about it. It had been a while...It had been a long while. He missed the feeling of the sun on his face, the grass against his skin, the earth between his toes, the taste of the wind. Even the replicated memories he ventured to as Companion taught him could hardly mimic the real thing.
'I believe I will.' Hari offered back.
He decided to go out the side door of the garage, careful that no one had seen him. When the Dursleys caught whispers of a strange brown boy in the neighborhood, Hari had been left with what Companion called a concussion and refused to let Hari sleep that night. He had been lectured about being more careful in between the pummelings of fists, making sure that no one knew it was the Dursleys who housed such a freak.
He walked around the neighborhood, taking note of which houses held familiar cars he often saw leaving after Petunia's book club, and which ones looked very similar to the one Mr. Vernon drove to work. He walked all the way through Privet Drive and came to a little corner sign that pointed in three directions. The left was Wisteria Walk, the middle course continued Privet Drive, and the right led to Manzanita Trace.
Hari wanted to go visit Ms. Figg. He hadn't seen her in a while and the pavement was starting to blister his feet. He made a left and began walking to Number Eight.
It was a pretty light-grey brick one story house with dark shingling and white windows and doors. He could see the cream coloured curtains pulled in front of the shutters and imagined Ms. Figg sitting in her green armchair while her kittens took up the sofa. He liked to think perhaps she was making tea, or reading one of her romance novels she forbade him from touching.
He gently rapped on the white door and waited a few moments. He expected to see a Ms. Figg with a book in her hand, or perhaps a teacup, or even one or several of her odd cats to prevent them from escaping.
What he did not expect was to see a worn out, disheveled looking Ms. Figg covered in soot and ash. Her hair was in a disarrayed bun, grey streaks more prominent than ever. Dark purple-black bags hung under her usually brilliant brown eyes that seemed to have lost their warmth, rimmed a bright red that led water stains down her face. Once she realized who was at the door she gave Hari a bright smile, but Hari couldn't help but compare how dull it seemed with the ones she had given him before.
"Hari! Oh, Hari dear. Oh—darling—please come in!"
She ushered him inside with feather-soft touches against his shoulders, something he was very grateful for, and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her blouse. It smeared soot around her face, but Hari thought it would be rather rude to point that out.
She led him to the couch and shooed off a rather affectionate Mr. Tibbles, who seemed to butt at Hari persistently.
"Hari, dear, I'm so sorry," she began to cry, running the tracks of her face wet again. "I—I tried to explain to them, to the Ministry and to Dumbledore, but they simply wouldn't listen. I've been trying dear, I promise."
She seemed quite upset about something Hari couldn't completely grasp. Hari did the only thing he knew how in order to comfort her—he hugged her. He crawled up onto her lap and stretched his thin arms around her round, soft body and buried his face in her shoulder.
In return she wrapped her long arms around him and cried into the tameless curls of his hair.
"It's alright…" he said slowly. He never spoke unless he was hissing out spells, and his voice was rough from disuse. "You did everything you could."
"I—I offered to take you, I could teach you, but they—they said—they said that you're safer with your aunt and uncle!"
She gave a hysterical laugh and Hari froze.
"My aunt and uncle?"
She sniffled lightly and pulled back from him. Hari looked up at her, curious and open and so scared that her body jerked along with her sobs. Ms. Figg forced composure upon herself.
"They never—they never told you?"
Hari shook his head. Ms. Figg took shaky, deep breaths and began to explain.
"Petunia and Vernon are your aunt and uncle. Dudley and the baby are your cousins. Petunia was Lily's, your mother, sister. When she and your father, James, died you were transferred to their guardianship." Her voice soured at the end, similar to the face she made when she over-boiled tea.
Lily and James. Hari finally had something to hold on to. He had asked his companion several times about his parents, but Companion always went quiet and still and wouldn't speak for the rest of the day. Lily and James. Names to the faces he treasured that his companion had pushed forward that one day, to the voices that told Hari they loved him.
Ms. Figg seemed to hesitate before steeling herself.
"They...They're the reason you can do what you can do." She gave him a very deliberate look and Hari drew his brows together.
'Magic, small one,' Companion hissed. Hari was surprised—both because his companion never wanted to talk about Hari's parents and because his parents could do it too.
Hari had always had an inkling—after all, with thoughts of Hogwarts running around in his head from his companion Hari knew he wasn't the only one like this. It was both comforting and isolating; he wasn't alone in ability, but he was alone here. And yet...his parents could do it too…
"Your mother was a brilliant witch. My son, Cristiano, use to complain about how she beat him out of Astrology and Arithmancy. They were his favourite subjects at Hogwarts. I believed he had quite the crush on her, many people did."
Ms. Figg adopted a sad smile, and stared at the fireplace with a look that Hari didn't like on her face. It was too sad, too painful, and it didn't belong on Ms. Figg's face, whom Hari believed only deserved happiness.
"Hogwarts—that's a school, right?"
She didn't seem perturbed that he knew this, either convinced that he came to a conclusion based on her explanation or having heard of it previously (though where he would have besides Companion, Hari didn't know, and no one but Hari knew of his companion).
"Yes. A school for magical children. There are many of them, I went to one myself when I was younger." She seemed both happy and sad; a word that his companion called reminiscent.
"Though I went to Castelobruxo instead of Hogwarts, I sent Cristiano there because of a deal with my husband."
She laughed to herself, though it was a hollow noise. Like the last remnants of an abandoned house lighting up.
'Castel Broom shoes?' Hari crinkled his nose at the name. And he thought Hogwarts was weird.
'No,' His companion laughed, 'Castelobruxo. It's in South America. Hidden in the rain forest.' Images of thick flora and exotic fauna filled his mind, large dewdrops gathered as big as Hari's fist in leaves larger than Hari's body. It was beautiful, Hari decided.
"Your father was in Gryffindor." Her voice was tight and drawn, echoed by the lines suddenly appearing on her face. "Hogwarts has four houses, you see. Gryffindor is the house of the brave, and there was no better place for James Potter. He became an Auror after school, one of the best there was. He served under Alastor Moody, the best Auror this millennium has ever seen."
Hari latched on eagerly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. He had never heard such things about his parents—especially his father. He felt something for the first time: pride.
"And my—my mother?"
Ms. Figg smiled gratefully at him, the way Hari imagined his mother would have smiled.
"She was in Hufflepuff, the house of the hard-working and true. And oh did she earn her place!" Ms. Figg laughed again, and it was a better sound than the one before. "She made the best grades, and won four awards for the highest of the class at the end of her Seventh Year. She was learning how to become an Alchemist and a Potions Mistress."
"I very much believe that if she had—if she had lived," Ms. Figg stumbled and dabbed at her eyes, starting once more. "I very much believe that if she had lived, she would have become the most wonderful Potions Mistress the world has ever seen, at least for a very long time."
Hari began to cry, and Ms. Figg couldn't stop her sniffles that joined him. He had escaped early in the morning and the Dursleys always took till after lunch to return. It was nearing nine-o'clock, and Hari stayed at Ms. Figg's as long as he could.
They spoke of many things in that time, yet Ms. Figg seemed hesitant to talk about Hari's father and placated him with tales of his mother. About how she was the brightest witch of her time and had a tendency to get carried away in letting everyone know. About how James was every teacher's worst nightmare from the minute he stepped off the train. About how Lily's best friends were Severus Snape, Alice Longbottom, and Marlene McKinnon, and how they rivaled his father's group of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Frank Longbottom, but seldom got caught when retaliating against the self-proclaimed "Marauders".
And finally, before Hari left, they spoke of his parents' death. Of James' betrayal in order to try to save his wife, and how he was offering up his son in return for being spared.
And suddenly, Hari wasn't so proud of his father anymore.
Ms. Figg had once told him that sometimes good people made bad decisions to save the people they love. Hari didn't understand why James didn't love him, and asked her quite frankly that very question. Ms. Figg had gone very silent for a long while. And when she spoke, she spoke very quietly.
"No matter what happened that night, it is not your fault."
She assured him that she believed quite furiously that both his parents loved him very much.
Hari didn't believe her. He so desperately wanted to, but how could someone who supposed to love him leave him like that?
When Hari had left it was another tearful had ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to Number Four of Privet Drive, hopelessly praying to whatever was out there that he would make it back before the Dursleys did.
He scraped his callused hands scrambling over the garden wall and twisted his ankle when he fell into the rose bushes down below. Cuts of varying depths and sizes covered his body as he crawled out, forcing himself along the sticker-infested grass and into the doggy-door Vernon had had installed for his sister, Mrs. Nelson.
He was very careful about rubbing up the blood with the rags that served as his shirt. He was deadly sure that he didn't dare leave a single streak of muck or blood. His feet burned and it was making Hari sweat with how much magic he had to use to prevent the blisters on them from bursting until he was safely inside his cupboard.
Once inside he forced his magic to heal him, ignoring the screamed warnings inside his head that he needed words or he could cause more harm. He simply didn't have time. As he felt cuts sizzling closed and blisters reversing themselves, which was twice as painful as obtaining them, Hari's magic began to take its toll. He had never used so much at one time, especially not so much without structure.
So Hari did the only thing he could do. Hari fainted.
Hari was locked in his cupboard until Wednesday. He could tell by the growling of the other Ms. Petunia's cars that they had borrowed from their husbands and by the clicking of heels against wood accompanied by their wearers' high pitched chitter-chatter.
He cast a silencing charm to surround the inside of the cupboard, mostly due to his companion's complaints. It became a nice time for a nap and Hari blacked out.
He was deposited back into his mindscape; a place Hari still couldn't figure out how to purposely visit. He could even count the amount of times he had been to his mindscape on one hand and still have fingers left over. It still looked like it did the first time; much like a vast, empty void.
His companion was in his snake form, as usual. Hari took in his long, thick body that had most definitely grown. The last time Hari had seen him, He was a deep purple that had began turning blue, and just over twice his original length and width with black eye-like patterns.
Now, Companion was a grey sea-blue with wave like patterns that glittered black. He was as thick as both of Hari's arms and legs all put together and had grown at least an extra foot or two.
'Hari…' his companion greeted.
'Companion. You've been quiet lately.' Despite his usual rantings over Petunia's book club and the toned down death threats he offered every time they passed the Dursleys, Companion had been eerily silent since Sunday with Ms. Figg.
Companion's tongue flicked out slowly, as if he was contemplating something.
'Hari...I need to speak with you.' His body curled in around itself, as if he was afraid. It was a strange thing to feel coming from his companion.
'Well you'll have to explain what we're doing now if we aren't already speaking,' Hari teased.
'It's about your father.'
Hari froze. Companion never willingly spoke of the Potters. Even after Sunday he had been near completely silent, except for the expected tirades that sounded half-hearted even to Hari.
'There are things you need to know, but I can only explain so many of them—I can only remember so many of them.'
Hari felt Companion's need for Hari to understand. Reluctantly, Hari accepted the foreign magic and watched as the mindscape swirled like an animated Starry Night.
The transparent floor began to grow grass, peeking out as if through a thick, ashy fog. Hari heard the sound of waves echoing through the expansion, completely entranced as a large lake began to take shape through the blackness.
He could see that instead of a single pane of simply darkness, his void was made up of many layers. Dense, mud-consistent smoke packed together, one layer on top of the other, intermingling and thinning out to a soft, grey mist that became the colour of seafoam as the lake began to emerge. From the grass grew bricks, and the bricks piled together the most magnificent castle he had ever seen! It was several stories tall with hundreds of dark windows and half a dozen visible towers and he just knew that this castle was Hogwarts.
The overhead levels of empty space faded into a cloudy blue sky, with sunshine that Hari could almost feel on his face. He swung his head around to his companion, only to stop when he spotted dozens of masked figures huddled in multiple half-circles.
Every figure wore a black cloak with tapering hoods and bone-white masks. They reminded Hari of those muggles he has seen on the telly, only they wore white and he was vaguely sure they didn't each have decorated masks. Each circle had their own style, and Hari focused on one in the center who was steadily approaching him, the others parting like fog.
Their mask was bone-white as the others, but as they came closer Hari could make out the details decorating it—golden swirls curled around the eye and nostril slits, while the mouth was carved out in a similar fashion to prison bars.
They removed their mask, and Hari was met with a startling older version of himself. Shorter curls stuck around his face, glasses formed from the mist to settle on top of a nose that appeared to have been broken too many times to remain straight, but hazel eyes shone wrong. It appeared as if a stranger was staring at him through James' eyes.
'I use to be part of a man who calls himself Voldemort.' His companion seemed very ashamed of himself, and very lost He curled around Hari's feet and worked his way up till his upper body was draped precariously over Hari's shoulders..
'We were—I was— A madman. I can hardly remember what it was like being in his head...Everything felt so fractured and wrong. I could barely tell one day apart from the other, plans began intermingling, thoughts came and went and were forgotten..…'
'But the night I became part of you is clear, Hari. You were supposed to kill me. You and another boy—Neville Longbottom. So I went after you both in the hopes of postponing my death. I both failed and succeeded.'
Hari stilled, and he felt the snake slip from his shoulders. Absently, he thought he should probably be grateful for the space being provided by his companion, but all he could feel was terror. His heart began constricting in his chest, his breath catching as if Vernon's hand was wrapped around his throat.
'My body was destroyed and I was put inside you, but that matters little at the moment.' Companion curled himself into a tight knot and laid his head on his body, mimicking a dog rolled onto its stomach. 'These are the Deatheaters. They were—are—Voldemort's followers, if you will. They…..we raided Saint Mungo's the night the two of you were born. I am unaware of the casualties, I was ripped away the moment I—'
He cut himself off, his voice clinical and cold and rushed to get everything seemed to curl impossibly tighter around himself before he spoke again, this time his voice very small, 'I—I am sorry. I cannot begin to imagine any apology that would convey how much I regret my actions. Nor have I yet decided which is the more fitting of punishments—to be unembodied, trapped incorporeally inside one of thousands of victims, or to gain back my mind, only to have the weight of my sins continue to rip apart the edges of my sanity. I—'
He cut himself off once more, his voice growing heavy. Hari didn't think snakes could cry, but he didn't have any other name for the stilted, wet sounds coming from his Companion. felt conflicted…..This was the man who took his parents from him, who forced him with the Dursleys, the reason for everything…..
But it wasn't. It was only a piece of him, whatever that meant, and this piece certainly didn't seem the type to knowingly ruin Hari's life...Mad men didn't cry after all, did they?
And his companion certainly didn't have a say in Hari's choice of residence, and certainly didn't have a say in the way the Dursleys treated him. In fact, he had healed and taught Hari, going as far as to protect Hari when the punishments were too severe.
Hari made up his mind.
He knelt down, reaching out to pull the parts of the gargantuan snake that he could fit onto his lap. Companion seemed to simultaneously recoil from the touch and wrap himself around Hari, seeking more. He choked out stilted apologies with words Hari didn't understand, but accepted quietly anyway, each one loosening the death grip inside his chest.
'It seem—It seems that the on-only comfort I may offer you,' He stopped, and took a deep, hissing breath, 'It seems that the only comfort I may offer you is that I can assure you I no longer consider myself Voldemort, let alone a piece of him.' Each word was slow and deliberate, and Hari stroked down his Companion's spine in a small attempt of affection.
They stayed there for long moments before his Companion raised his head from his many coils to speak again, but all Hari knew was pain as he was physically ripped from his mindscape.
One of the Ms. Petunias, a Mrs. Blanton, had seen Hari running back from the cross-sign and into the Dursleys yard. She had explained that she had seen this once before, a few months ago, and was frankly surprised that Petunia and Vernon could house such a thing.
She had told her story in the middle of book club, in front of one Mrs. Hinz, a schoolteacher at the elementary. Several of the others confirmed either story, through first or second or millionth hand knowledge, which proposed a question about why wasn't he in school? from Mrs. Hinz.
Petunia had to play her cards very carefully, explaining that Hari was born later in the year and therefore was expected to start in September with the other children. After all, they had only been housing him a few months.
So when Hari received the news that he would be going to school in a few months by a smiling Ms. Petunia, he believed he was about to die. She told him that since he was a schoolboy now that he needed to be clean, and ushered him into the bathroom. He had been very confused as Ms. Petunia ordered him to strip and lay in the tub, until he placed his foot inside and it immediately went numb at the cold.
This was a new game.
He had snatched his foot out of the water almost as fast as Petunia backhanded him into the towel rack. She pulled him up by his hair and told him that he would either get in and stay in until Petunia came and fetched him, or she would drown him.
Hari forced himself into the water, even as every cell in his being screamed at him for doing so.
Ms. Petunia instructed him to lay in the water with his face lowered, or she would push it in. When Hari lowered his head till the water was brushing his cheeks, she had decided it wasn't fast enough and placed her long, thin hand over his face and pushed him down.
Ice-water invaded his lungs and his numb limbs could barely put up a fight. The only thing he could do was cough and cause more water to invade his nose. When she finally let him up she kept her hand placed threateningly on his face, whispering very close to him,
"If you move a muscle, or so much as tilt your head, I'll call Marjorie and allow her mutt to do whatever it wants to you."
She removed her hand and watched expectantly. Hari quickly sunk his head back underwater, careful to keep his nose just above enough the he could catch tiny breaths. Petunia huffed and slunk out the door, purposefully leaving it open.
Hari didn't know how long he was in there, only that it was long enough for his body to begin automatically shivering and long enough for it to stop.
Hari had tried to reach out to his companion, only to feel an emptiness where he once was.
The lack of the mental presence was more horrifying to Hari than his current situation. He didn't know what he would do without his companion. After all, he'd been there even before Hari could remember.
When Hari began to question if you could cry underwater, Petunia came in and twisted her fingers into Hari's hair and violently jerked him up. She lifted him so high that when she let go he felt a crack against his pelvis hitting the bottom of the bathtub. She pulled out an aluminum scrubber and an old bar of used soap before beginning to scrub him raw.
In some places she would simply leave it red, puffy, and heavily irritated. In others she didn't stop scrubbing until blood began dripping into the bathwater.
When he was finished with his bath Petunia told him that they were now being forced to buy him school supplies, and that Hari now owed them. In no uncertain terms did she make clear that Hari was ordered to do anything in order to pay them back. She didn't care about how he did it or what he did, and even less about what happened to him, as long as the debt was paid off in the end.
Then she had thrown an old shirt of Dudley's that had been dried too many times at him along with what he thought use to be pants but had been cut.
Then she had thrown him in his cupboard after he finished dressing.
Hari felt the weight of loneliness beginning to consume him. Without his companion he would have no one to turn to, no one to help him, no one who cared for him like his companion did.
He just wanted his friend back.
Silvery slick tears made their way down from his eyes and past his nose, over his cheek and onto the floor as he thought about a life without that sort of magic. He would give it up if he could have the voice back—he would take a dozen punishments all in a row.
'You're—ridiculous,' a voice whispered. It sounded older and more tired than his companion ever had, but Hari couldn't care less.
'Worrying over something like me...when you're practically freezing to death.'
'Where were you? What happened?' Hari asked fervently.
'You were awoken from your mindscape...A very dangerous thing to pull someone out of...especially someone untrained.' His companion took several heaving breaths, and Hari hugged himself tight when he felt sluggish scales graze against him.
Hari suddenly felt very awkward. When they had left off, his companion had been crying on him.
'So...you use to be this Voldemort guy?'
'Yes.'
'But you aren't anymore? You're like...your own guy?'
'...In lack of better phrasing—yes.'
'But you're still a part of me?'
'Yes. As I always will be.'
Hari felt a sort of muted elation—his companion would always be with him! He would never leave, never abandon Hari; he would live as Hari lived. Though now, Hari understood exactly how his companion had come to be. Despite his own sore excitement, he could feel sleep tugging at him as his magic worked to repair both himself and Companion.
'If you're your own person...then who are you?'
'I...do not know. I am no one, I suppose.'
Hari didn't think that sounded very nice.
'Well, what was your name before you were Voldemort?'
His companion seemed to hesitate, as if he was once again afraid.
'My name was Tom.'
'It's nice to meet you, Tom.'
'It's...It's nice to meet you too, Hari.'
Hari smiled and allowed sleep to claim him.
Random Note: A bit over 6.5K
I tend to italicize too much, insert way too many commas, and not give a damn about doing either.
Original Spells:
Crescere—An expansion charm. Instead of being similar to the Engorgio charm (which enlarges the object in question), this charm simple 'stretches' it.
Lignum—A temporary sticking charm that can be easily dislocated by mild impact (A/N: biting, hitting, or repeated impacts such as cutting). Will eventually dissolve on its own.