:: speech :: is Parseltongue
// speech // is mental speak
/:speech:/ is mental Parseltongue
oOoOoOo
oOoOoOo
/:I'm sorry, your right. I said that poorly.:/ The basilisk tucks its nose into the end of its tail and makes a coughing noise. It flings its head back and proclaims loudly/:Woe! Remove that Mudblood hussy from my shining Slytherin hero as I need her to put up with that insufferable James Potter long enough for her to pop out a copy of you so that the soul interference will kill you both.:/
"WHAT!?!"
/: Your vocabulary could use some diversification.:/ Voldemort sneers.
"You- you just insulted my mother!" Harry sputters. "And my dad!"
/: I was attempting to give you more incentive to not be an idiot. I thought that if I presented it in a confrontational manner you might be more apt to listen.:/
"No! Of course I'll never be apt to listen to you." Harry scoffs, the entire concept insulting.
/:Right.:/ Voldemort hisses. /: Well I suppose I don't particularly care either way. After all, if you burst into Harry-ether when your other self is born, that's pretty positive for me. If, instead, you manage to swallow your bile enough to get your mother together with Snape, that will probably damage your soul enough that I can take over more easily. So either situation is good. I just prefer Oedipus complexes. Makes for great psychological torture.;/
Harry's mind is blank. He is simply at a loss for words, so stunned with the depths of depravity that he is being subjected to.
Voldemort continues blithely along. /:Of course, one really should follow up with a dash of hope you can later dash after a long spate of physical torture, but the mental stuff is a good primer…:/
Harry smacks the basilisk so hard he passes out.
oOoOoOo
The next morning Harry bolts upright in bed with an epiphany. "I'll just have to work to fully accept- no! Be positively thrilled that my mother is dating Professor Snape! That way I can avoid a duplicate soul and mental anguish." His resolve lasts approximately five seconds after the basilisk sends him a mental image. This time being approximately the amount of time it takes Harry to figure out that the image is a graphic, moving vision of his mother and Potion Master engaging in wildly experimental sex.
Harry bursts from his bed with a shriek and dashes to the bathroom. He stands under the closest shower and turns it on full blast into his face.
"Harry!" Jeff calls as he races into the bathroom and skids and slips to a stop beside Harry. "What's wrong?" He asks worriedly, turning the water off.
Harry growls out a spell that turns the shower back on and locks it there.
"What in the world?" One of the other boys pops his head in through the doorway.
"Quick- go get Sev or Tom!" Jeff calls worriedly, trying to stop Harry from soaking himself in the cold water.
"Who?"
"The Head of House or Snape!" Jeff snaps, irritated when the physically smaller Harry resists all of his attempts to be pulled from the shower.
/: Yes… very mature. :/ Voldemort muses. /: Who would have thought that sharing some innocent memories would have such a profound impact on your delicate sensibilities.:/
/You never witnessed any such thing!/ Harry snarls mentally.
/:Oh, you know this for a fact, then?:/ Voldemort muses with a nasty tone.
"Jeff, what is… Harry!" Snape says as he comes into the bathroom. "What are you doing?" Snape takes over from where Jeff had been trying to coax Harry out of the shower. He is much more successful, but not for the reasons he assumes. Harry decides that trying to Obliviate himself from the memory of Snape naked will be much more doable without his own memories of the man's light grey pajamas soaked through and sticking to his body.
Harry jumps out of the shower toward Jeff, leaving the bemused Snape soaking wet and trying to turn the shower off. While Harry knows the attempt is almost sure to meet with failure, due to the recent determination that a soaked through Snape will be detrimental to Operation: Keep Myself From Being Born he ignores the apprentice's plight.
"Harry, next time, you should take your clothes off before trying to take a shower." Jeff says, an expression on his face like he thought that Harry had known that, but that he is currently reevaluating his estimation of the other boy's cognition. "And you can take a nice warm shower, too."
Harry ignores the boy, glad that he isn't expected to give responses to anything, and quickly changes into his school uniform.
He follows Jeff down to breakfast, turning a slightly malicious ear to the cursing coming from the bathroom. Even though Snape hadn't sent him the images, he had been in them.
oOoOoOo
The first class of the day is History of Magic. Harry settles his head down on a desk in the back of the room, noting that the entire first year barely fits into the classroom. Some Hufflepuffs end up on the floor after graciously giving them up to a pair of Gryffindors that skid into the room right before the bell.
"Oh, well, thanks. You sure you don't want…" One of the Gryffs asks skeptically, clearly torn between being noble and getting a desk.
"Oh, no bother. We all wanted to sit together, anyway." One of the two that gave up their seat says, waving at three other Hufflepuffs who wave and grin.
The sound of a throat clearing directs all the attention to the front of the room. Harry is mildly surprised to see Binns floating behind the teachers desk. He supposes that he shouldn't be, but so much seems backwards he would probably have been equally surprised if Binns had been alive.
"Our professor is a ghost?" A Slytherin whispers loudly, appalled.
"His coursework hasn't changed in a decade. We have a transcript of all his lectures!" A Ravenclaw whispers eagerly back, then looks stumped as to why the Slytherin looks horrified.
"Today we will begin at the most important event in the history of our magical heritage…" Binns starts. Harry is depressed to realize that it is exactly the same speech that he had heard so many years ago… or so many years in the future? He quickly stops that line of thinking before he gets a headache and instead watches the Ravenclaw lip-syncing with the ghost with a mixture of fascination and depression at having to endure Binns twice through.
/:Three times through, if you count my time at Hogwarts.:/ Voldemort says with resigned disgust.
/He's been teaching since you were in school? That was so long ago!/ Harry blurts out mentally.
/: You know, Potter- there is a chunk of my soul that is actually younger that you are, so don't give me that.:/ Voldemort says, transferring his disgust from Binns to Harry. /:And I'll have you know that even my oldest soul fractions are still quite young in wizarding terms. Dumbledore was over one hundred and sixty if you recall.:/
/And you're taking the form of a basilisk that was well over two thousand years old.:/ Harry points out, deciding not to odd comment about ages of soul fragments in favor of riling up the apparently age-conscious Dark Lord. It does make a fair amount of sense, though, being as the man had been pathologically fearful of death.
"Are you following him along word for word?" The Slytherin hisses at the Ravenclaw.
"Yes, but stop talking, you're making my timing be a bit off… hey!" She yells, trying to get the paper back as the Slytherin snatches it away. He holds her off as she tries to climb over him to get the paper and scans it quickly.
"Merlin… there are even notes on inflection!" The Slytherin says breathlessly. He pales considerably. "And they are accurate!"
He shoves the paper back into the irate Ravenclaw's hands and turns to Jeff. "You said that your friend there will cast spells if you ask, right?" He hisses intently.
"Well, yes… but… why do you aks?" Jeff asks, looking up from his notes that are already dissolving into doodles.
The Slytherin leans farther forward and looks at Harry intently. "Hey, Harry!" Harry hears him, but chooses to ignore him. The irritation boiling off his other soul is such sweet revenge… "Harry- cast the exorcism charm on Professor Binns!"
Power rushes through Harry and he cries "Exorcisimus!" before his attention has fully come back into the present. Harry looks on in horrified fascination as Binns begins to glow with golden light and then shrinks into a beam of light that shoots through the ceiling. His mouth drops open.
/:You knew the exorcism charm?:/ Voldemort asks in seemingly genuine confusion. /:There is an exorcism charm?:/
/What do you mean? Didn't you just take me over?/
Harry feels Voldemort's odd look on him.
/Right… that would be bad./
The Slytherin jumps into the air, whooping. "Alright Harry!"
Harry winces, wishing the boy would keep to himself that he had just vanished their professor.
"What did you slimy Slytherins do?" A Gryffindor asks indignantly, trying to cover her relief by getting angry in the typical house response.
"We just fired that boring professor!" The boy says, jumping onto the desk, elated. "Did you know that he was using the same inflections that he has for years?" He waves at the Ravenclaw beside him who is nearly in tears. "She has the notes to prove it!"
At that, the Ravenclaw perks up. "That's right! We can teach the class to ourselves until the professors can bring Binns back!" She exclaims cheerfully, rushing to the front of the classroom to do just that. The Slytherin just stares after her, his face full of dawning horror.
"I just don't get them. Not at all." He mutter to himself.
"Well, you three snakes are coming with us to the Headmaster's office." The Gryffindor insists, crossing her arms with a posse of recruited Gryffs behind her.
"You know where it is?" Jeff asks, looking impressed.
The girl quickly turns red. "Er… that is…"
"I do!" Chimes a 'Puff from the floor. She stands up and dusts off her school robes. "My Aunt lives here year round, so I know where just about everything is."
"Oh, you do, do you?" The Gryff says nastily, taking out her aggression on the helpful 'Puff. "Who's this aunt, then?"
The 'Puff answers calmly. "Pomona Sprout. I'm Fiona Sprout."
"Well, lead the way, then, Fiona." Jeff says pleasantly. "I bet Tom will want to know about this, too." He grins wryly. "This isn't the first time Harry's done something like this." He then looks contemplative. "Though this may be the worst."
Harry, irritated by Jeff's vote of no-confidence, sets off to the Headmaster's office by himself. The other firsties hurry to keep up with his power walk down Hogwart's corridors.
"Aren't you going to lead us, then?" The Gryffindor ringleader asks.
"Well, I would, but he's going the right way." Fiona says, her voice sounding like she is shrugging.
Soon enough they are in front of the gargoyle. Harry is in no mood to stare the thing down until it moves and he has no idea what the password is. He crosses his arms and leans against a handy wall.
"This is it?" One of the Gryffindor posse asks skeptically.
"Yup." Fiona confirms. "Oh, shoot- I only know the summer password."
"There are passwords?" The Slytherin that started this whole mess asks, with something akin to awe in his voice. "Was the Headmaster a Slytherin in school? That's downright paranoid."
"I'm sure there are reasons." The Gryffindor ringleader growls.
"Oh, sure, lots of reasons to make students completely unable to seek you for advice when they need it, seeing as how we are all full grown wizards and witches and all." The Slytherin drawls.
Fortunately the argument is cut off by the gargoyle jumping out of the way, revealing a momentarily startled Headmaster. "Shouldn't you children be in class?" He asks them kindly, his friendly eyes holding a hint of steel.
A burst of frenzied explanation erupts from all the assembled firsties, except for Harry, of course. Dumbledore finally catches sight of him and his eyes narrow. "Why don't you all go back to your classroom and tell everyone that they need to write a 2 foot essay on the importance of studying History of Magic. I or someone else will be along to sort everything else out shortly." The assembled students protest, but Dumbledore firmly but gently insists. "And, Jeff, you can go back, too. I will talk with Tom about Harry." Dumbledore says. It takes quite a bit more coaxing to get Jeff to leave, but finally the two wizards are alone. "Well, Harry, let's go up to my office, then, shall we?" Albus turns around without waiting to see if Harry is following and goes back up the stairs.
Once in the office he makes a few quick fire-calls. Harry doesn't know who the first few are from, but after the sixth Tom Riddle steps out of the flames and sinks down into the chair opposite of Harry.
"So what did he do, now?" Riddle asks wearily.
"I'm not exactly sure, yet." Albus replies, turning toward Harry. "I thought that it would save time if Harry would tell us both at the same time."
Harry takes that as his cue to spill, which he does after an embarrassing false start. He clears his throat and tries again. "Apparently I used the exorcising charm on Professor Binns."
"The what?" Both professors say at the same time.
"Er… I take it that means that you've never heard of it, either."
"What do you mean 'either,' Harry? Did you cast it or didn't you?" Tom asks.
"Well, yes, I did cast it… but before I did, I never had heard of it before."
Both professors look quite skeptical.
"Look, I was sort of daydreaming since I've already heard that lecture. A lot of your classes are completely different, but that one is exactly the same." Harry pauses, musing a bit. "Down to the inflections. A bit scary, that."
"Ghosts aren't well known for their originality." Tom says dryly.
"What happened then?" Dumbledore prods.
"Well, then this Slytherin asks me to cast the 'exorcism charm' and it just sort of… whipped out of me." Harry shrugs. "I don't know how else to explain it."
"Hmm." Dumbledore muses, popping a candy into his mouth.
"What was the spell effect?" Tom asks softly.
"Binns disappeared in a column of golden light." Harry says, somewhat apologetically.
"It seems that we will be in need of a new History professor." Dumbledore muses. Harry squints a little bit- it seems almost as though the Headmaster is pleased?
"Drat." Tom says, with a similar lack of remorse. "Well, Harry." He continues, turning to face the younger wizard and leaning forward in his chair. "From the preliminary research I've been able to do since yesterday- I may have an explanation of this. Most texts talk of souls combining meaning that your magical cores are similarly bound." He gestures broadly and sinks back in the chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. "So my theory is either that you spontaneously combined two spells that either one of your souls knew to make this spell, or that with such a large magical core, you are actually closer to magic itself and the spell flowed naturally from that."
"A third possibility is due to your time traveling." Dumbledore continues where Tom had left off. "It is possible that, being both souls outside the appropriate time, that you are pulling from spells created in the future." He gives a long hard look at Harry. "None of the options is particularly pleasant."
Harry nods sadly. He is beginning to lose hope that anyone will be able to help him. His power seems so vast that it will crush him and everything around him, whether he wills it or not. Voldemort cackles in glee from the back of his mind, sounding quite mad.
"Now, before we send you back to your classes- the next I believe is flying…" Harry perks up at that. "Who was the Slytherin who told you to cast the spell. I will need to have words with them."
"Er…" Harry feels his face flush.
"You don't know your yearmates?" Tom asks incredulously. "Well, what does she look like?"
"He." Dumbledore corrects around his candy.
"You don't know the names of your dorm mates?" Tom asks, this time looking halfway between incised and disappointed. Harry sinks down in the chair, for once grateful of his small size.
"Er… black hair, long, light eyes- grey maybe? Tallish, really bony." Harry mutters.
"Marfic Black?" Tom asks, turning to Dumbledore, who nods a confirmation. Harry sinks even further down. He should have been able to recognize the family resemblance. And he certainly should have known the other boys sleeping in his room! Tom sighs. "It would be him. He takes after that cousin of his, Sirius." Harry squirms a bit in his chair.
"Can I go then?" He asks, not caring that he sounds petulant. It probably looks perfectly natural on a body as young looking as his. He can't wait to get on a broom and do some heart stopping dives until he can forget the whole incident. /:And maybe your mental images from this morning.:/ Voldemort says in an innocently helpful tone that makes visions of Snape drenched, his thin grey nightwear barely decent. His imagination gleefully combines that with the sight of Snape draping over his mother into a positively traumatizing image. /:You know, it's almost too easy…:/ The basilisk muses.
Harry bolts out of the office without waiting for permission and doesn't stop until he hits the flying pitch.
He makes it just in time to see their Herbology professor coming out onto the pitch carrying a large parcel of shrunken brooms under her arm. Harry is confused until Professor Bain starts to talk.
"So we're going to teach you lot the basics of broom flight. All years have this class at the same time as some of you will never get it, while others of you will take to it better than you took to your mother's tit." Many blush at the comment, but the professor doesn't seem to notice. She drops the brooms and unshrinks them. "For those of you that are hopeless and never want to sit on a stick ever again in your life. Let me first say that you are missing out. There is nothing quite like riding a long, hard shaft to get your blood pumping and give you a sense of exhilaration." Harry blushes a bit at this one, though it seems as though fewer students understand the double entendre. The professor seems to be keeping a sharp eye on those who do. She smirks when she looks at Harry, which only makes him blush harder. She continues on with her lecture, describing the various sections and the intricate system of who teaches whom and when and where. Harry has a suspicion that the professor is describing in such detail out of a malicious desire to see all the students panic and their eyes glaze over.
"Here, Harry. I grabbed you a sandwich and I fed your Puffskein." Harry accepts the food as his stomach rumbles. He hadn't realized that he had been in the Headmaster's office so long. Sure it had felt like an eternity, but Harry had thought that was because he had been so embarrassed.
"Right, so everyone over to a broom and say 'up!' You had better be confident about it, no one can ever get it up without passion." The professor says, lining everyone up.
Harry goes to his broom and gets it to leap to his hand with no trouble. Jeff has a bit more trouble, though not so much as the obviously Muggle-born children.
"Well done, Harry." Comes a voice from behind him. Harry jumps and turns, expecting another risqué comment. Professor Bain merely smirks at him, apparently above sexually harassing her students.
Once everyone has their brooms in hand, the professor guides them through mounting and take-off. Considering his previous experiences with flying classes- the first Neville had broken his arm and every subsequent lesson either he lost control again or Hermione threw up- the class goes amazingly smoothly. Harry loops idly high above the rest of the class, watching Jeff flit about underneath him like a dull colored Snitch with some amusement. The other boy never seems to think to look up.
The bell tolls and Harry lets out a large sigh. The brooms from this time are simply too slow for him. He had pushed his to its limits, but it was like getting back on a tricycle once you've been mountain biking. The thrill was simply not there.
Harry shrugs and points the broom handle straight down, using gravity to increase the broom's speed to nearly acceptable levels. The wind is screaming past his ears and Voldemort is screaming in panic in his head as he gets closer and closer to the ground, faster, faster… at the very last second he pulls up from the dive. He is so close to the ground he climbs up onto the handle so his feet stop digging into the ground. At the doorway back into Hogwarts he steps off the handle and keeps walking as though nothing had happened, barely noting that the broom comes to a somewhat rough landing in the pile that other students had already made.
It takes Harry a second to realize that the screaming didn't stop at the end of his dive. He yawns and wiggles a finger in his ear.
/:What the bloody hell did you think you were doing! You probably would have made us into an eternally young paraplegic, you thoughtless curr!:/
"Harry! What were you doing? You could have killed yourself! And then Tom would have killed me!"
"That was so amazing! Do it again!"
"Teach me!"
"Play on our team, Harry! I don't care you're a slimy Slytherin!"
Harry keeps walking, his head down and a scowl on his face. He is certainly not looking forward to the attention, though the dive had definitely been worth it.
"And if you had died, Professor Hengle would have made your ghost learn the healing runes!" Jeff adds. The statement only adds to his dread. Harry hadn't understood a bit of the homework. The undoubtedly insane professor is going to make his life very difficult.
A/N: To clear up a few things- Harry's eyes only change colors but rarely. So one or the other souls of his are feeling strong emotion they will be in a balance- so unless you see him closely they will look brown. And as far as anyone but Albus and Tom know, Harry can only say his name and spell incantations.
Thanks for the help on coming up with a new summary duj! I appreciate it.
Oh and as a PS- I think I found the bit where I went tense-crazy in earlier chapters. I was trying to be fancy but it didn't really work. I know I'm really bad with sticking with just one, anyway… sorry! I'd ask for someone to be my beta except I should probably win some sort of prize as the most unreliable updater in the history of fanfics (after Midnight Blue, maybe, lol)
Thanks for reading everybody! Please review. I really love constructive criticism, honest!
And if you have any neat ideas hit me up. I have no earthly idea where I'm going with this story in the middle. I have an ending though, just have to torture the characters a bit before I get there. ;)