Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. This is an amateur, non-profit work. I write for my own enjoyment.

Chapter 3: The Dream

It was two days after Harry lost control. Harry had ignored his constant headaches and the buzzing in his ears. He didn't hear Voldemort's voice again, or maybe, he tried to ignore it. He never wanted to hear it again, the voice of his parent's murderer. He wished he had never known that name. He wished he had never known magic.

After the incident, Aunt Petunia had taken care of everything. She had refused to go to the hospital. Too many questions she said, and Harry knew some of them will get back to her husband and Harry. Luckily her back were only heavily bruised from her impact to the wall; at least she wasn't paralyzed from Harry's fit of rage.

Vernon however, was not so lucky; the effect of whatever Harry did still lingered. He often twitched and occasionally having spasm at odd times during the day. He was now so afraid of Harry that the mere mention of Harry's name would send him to another fit of spasm. He avoided Harry at all cost. In a way, the only good thing from the whole incident was that they all left him alone. They were so afraid of him that they would never bother him again. Dudley cannot even look at him in the eye and could not be in the same room as him.

Harry, after losing control and breaking down, had tried to somewhat apologize to Aunt Petunia for hurting her. She after all, didn't beat him to death, although she hadn't stopped her husband either. She however was still afraid of Harry and didn't want to look at him in the eyes. Her eyes brimmed with tears but she didn't say anything. Harry still wasn't too repentant in what he did to Vernon though, and maybe his Aunt knew that. Or maybe she was still afraid of his sanity when he laughed like mad that day.

So Harry was quite surprised when on the evening of that second day, Aunt Petunia knocked on the cupboard door and said to him, "Go to Dudley's second bedroom. It's cleared. It's your room now."

The room was previously full with Dudley's old toys and trunks of clothes. It was like a junk store. Now though, mostly everything has been cleared away and there was the single bed, the wardrobe, an addition of a desk and a chair, and it was simply a heaven for Harry who had never seen so much luxury. In his ten years of life inside the cupboard under the stairs, he had never seen so much space.

Maybe it was her Aunt's way of asking for his forgiveness, to make up for what she had allowed for so long.

Harry had hoped, in the small part of his heart, that perhaps, someday, he could forgive Vernon and Dudley and Aunt Petunia for the years of hell-hole, so that he can find forgiveness for his own actions. But his heart had grown hard, and he wondered if his inability to forgive them indicated that he had become evil, that he had started on the path to become like the man who had killed his parents, the evil Dark Lord. He prayed that he hadn't.

That night, Harry went to sleep in his new room (on a bed! He never had his own bed!) thinking that perhaps Lord Voldemort, his parents' killer, had left him for good.

Unfortunately, it was only his wishful thinking.

A tall, thin man, around forty years old (Harry was never good in estimating people's age) with a pale face, dark hair, and lips so thin that they almost disappear, showed up in his dream. His body was surrounded with a strange pale golden light, like a dome.

They were both standing in a strange place, where all around them were flashes of some things that sometimes flickered, sometimes rushing by. Harry however, did not wonder at the strange sight. He simply glared at the man, somehow knowing exactly who he was.

{You might have avoided me in real life, Harry, but I can still appear in your dream. And you have to sleep sometime}, Voldemort said. He was clearly not amused, having to resort to reaching the boy in his most defenceless state, during his sleep. Luckily the boy was not a natural occlumens.

"What do I have to do to get rid of you?" Harry had cried out in frustration.

{Oh, you'd never get rid of me. You and I are joined in soul. And might I remind you, you were the one who agreed to accept my help. Willingly, I might add.}

"That's because I didn't know who you are! And you said you wanted to help me!"

{And I did help you. I am the one who saved your life; you seemed to conveniently forgotten that little fact.}

"As I haven't forgotten the little fact that you killed my parents!"

{Ah, back to that... Well, Harry, there was nothing that I could have done to reverse that fact, now is there?}

"If I've known who you are, I'd never let you help me! I'd rather die!"

{And unfortunately, that was something that I couldn't allow.}

Harry glared at him in answer. They stood still, facing each other. The golden light around Voldemort started to pulse, seeming to constrict him in pain.

Voldemort, wincing, quickly explained, {Look, Harry, as far as I know there was nothing you and I could have done to get out of this situation. Oh believe me; I wouldn't want to be stuck with you, a ten year old boy living with muggles. Never even hearing about magic in his entire life. But no, you had to die, and I had to resort to sacrificing what's left of my magic to save you, so you wouldn't die and bring me with you!}

Voldemort was obviously in a roll.

{I can't even possess you to save your life, because of that blasted protection! No, the only way to save both of us is by combining our magic! And that blasted protection} he spat, {made it so that it can only be allowed if you willingly accept me in both mind and soul! Which meant that our souls are now joined! And the only way this could be undone, as far as I know, is when both of our souls went to the afterlife!}

Harry sat down in shock from the revelation. This meant he was stuck with Voldemort? Forever? His world seemed to crash around him. For a while, neither of them spoke.

"Why then?" Harry was the first to break the silence. He had asked again the question that had plagued him after having a glimpse of the truth from Aunt Petunia.

{Why did I kill your parents? Why did you survive? Why did you survive while I was killed? Why did I save you?}

"Yes. All of them. I wanted to know what happened. Why you killed my parents. Why are you here in my head in the first place."

{That, Harry would take a long time to answer... And I need some answers myself. The best way is to see it from my memories. Memories of the night your parents are murdered. Are you strong enough for it?}

Harry swallowed. This was his chance to learn what happened. To actually see his parents, whom he had never known, except for what he thought was his mother's voice in his dreams.

"...Yes."

{Very well. You will see what I see.}