I just realized that ffn is giving me formating troubles. I've had a hard time inserting bigger spaces and star-dividers to indicate time lapses between paragraphs. It seems to work if I add apothrophies and dots, which is not esthetically pleasing. Funny - it used to work in my old stories just fine.


Discovering Their Powers

"I bet Mrs. Figg is a witch," said Tom rather randomly while they were sitting in their neighbour's living room, watching TV. "She's old, has far too many cats and a wart that has three dark hairs growing out of it on her chin."

Mrs. Figg, a kind elderly lady who lived across the street from the Dursleys, was often asked to babysit Harry when the Durleys went on a family outing, like tonight. Harry sat on the sofa, while Mrs Figg had fallen asleep in the wingback chair opposite from him. Her head was tilted back and she was snoring softly.

"What?" asked Harry, confused. He had been watching a James Bond movie and had assumed Tom's attention had been caught in that as well.

"It's disgusting," said Tom plaintively. "I can't help staring at it the entire time."

Harry frowned. "My eyes have been fixed on the screen. How could you have been staring at Mrs Figg's chin instead?"

Tom shrugged, or at least, that's what it felt like. "It was in your line of vision. I don't have to focus on exactly the same thing you do."

"Yeah, and focusing on someone's chin hair is so much more interesting than watching a movie!" Harry snorted, then gasped when a thought flashed through his head. "Wait a minute – does that mean you could actually be reading something entirely different than I, if I had two books open on the table?"

And just like that, Mrs. Figg's wart was of no interest to Tom anymore. "What an intriguing idea! Wouldn't that be neat? Let's give it a try!"

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*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

.

It was more than neat. It was brilliant. The fact that they could do synchronized reading was a game changer. Not only did their haggling about which book they should read stop, but as Harry realized, he could soon draw on two different minds to recall information. And as Tom was going through books at a much faster speed than Harry and had a much better memory than him, it was a bit like having a librarian living in his head.

The logistics of turning pages had been a bit of a hassle at the beginning, but they eventually developed a rhythm. Harry would turn the page of Tom's books every time he came to the end of his, even if it was a left page. That way, Tom was reading two pages in the time Harry was reading one. Only when he was reading a more complex book that lowered his reading speed a bit, did he actively command Harry to turn when he needed him to.

The only thing that gave both boys a bit of a headache was the fact that Harry would occasionally draw people's attention when he was seemingly talking to himself. While he could hear Tom all the time, answering was a bit difficult when in public. It was fine when they were in their cupboard in the hallway, with two doors between them and the Dursleys and the TV to muffle their conversations.

It was also mostly okay when Harry was working in the garden, as he was usually alone at the time. But in school, he hardly ever had privacy, and while the teachers in class would assume he was whispering to his desk neighbour, said seat mate would know that Harry was talking to himself. Harry soon had the reputation of being extremely 'odd'. That wasn't really something new – Dudley had seen to it that none of the other kids wanted anything to do with him. But it was some reason for concern when Aunt Petunia caught wind of his freakish habit of muttering to himself.

Tom found it very hypocritical of her to complain – after all, his child raising books had told him that kids needed company and attention in order develop normally, and locking a kid in a cupboard for large periods of time was a sure way to make them develop a few unusual and unhealthy habits. Harry tried that argument with her, but it didn't work in his favour. Aunt Petunia called him ungrateful and got really upset – and locked him in the cupboard right after he was done with his chores.

"I told you those child raising books were good for nothing," Harry complained to Tom, who was a bit disappointed that confronting Petunia with a piece of scientific wisdom had backfired on them.

"It's not the information that was wrong," Tom finally concluded. "I think confronting her with it head on was. The books say that you have to let your kids work out their mistakes by themselves. You're only supposed to give them subtle hints to guide them there. There was a mention of reverse psychology which sounded interesting. I have to read more about that."

It still didn't solve the issue of talking to one another without raising suspicion, though.

"If you are able to hear me, why shouldn't the same be possible the other way round?" wondered Tom. "There's this thing called telepathy – it came up in quite a few of your paranormal novels. If we could get that to work, we could communicate anytime and anywhere we want."

"You cannot hear my thoughts. Neither can I hear yours."

"No, I have to make a conscious effort to voice what I'm thinking if I want you to hear it. I guess it's a concentration thing. Maybe we can try meditation techniques. They were mentioned in 'Learning How to Deal With Anger Issues' which I thought might give us an idea of how to handle Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

Well, they hadn't made much progress on that front yet, but learning how to communicate silently with each other would certainly eliminate one reason for the Dursleys' anger. After reading all those parenting books that explained a lot of behaviour patterns, Harry was sure that his talking to himself scared them for some reason.

The books Tom picked out on meditation proved most helpful. They helped Harry focus, which not only did a world of good for his school work, but also – after days of relentless practicing – finally yielded the desired result: Harry was able to make himself heard by Tom.

"You did it!" cheered Tom, "Good job, Harry!" (Tom had taken the parenting books a bit too much to heart, using the advice on Harry sometimes. Harry didn't mind. He didn't get praise often, after all).

In the beginning, Harry needed to really focus on his thoughts for Tom to hear them, which somehow equaled mentally shouting at him, but as with all things, it got easier with time and practice.

Having Tom to converse with wherever he was gave him a feeling of immense comfort. For the first time ever, there was someone who was always on his side – if only out of self-interest. And Tom was smart and cunning and generally gave good advice. Life had never been better for Harry.

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*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

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"Harry, I think you should have your eyes checked," said Tom to him one day in school, when Harry was squinting at the board to copy what the teacher had noted down for them.

"What? Why?"

"Because I can't help but feel your vision is off. I know you only got your glasses after the school entry examination, but either your eyes have deteriorated or those glasses you are wearing are no good for you."

"Aunt Petunia got them for me at an Oxfam store. Those were the ones that fitted best."

"I believe you should have your own glasses, specifically made for you."

"I don't think Aunt Petunia would like buying me a new pair of glasses very much," Harry added for consideration.

"Tell the teacher that you're having trouble looking at the board and ask her to sit in a front row. She'll make sure Aunt Petunia will take you to an optometrist. Aunt Petunia wouldn't want to look bad in front of her and will comply."

Tom was right – reading all those psychology books finally paid off. It worked exactly as he had predicted. When talking to his teacher, Harry even let it slip that his glasses were second hand, which had her call up his aunt and berate her in no uncertain terms that second hand glasses were not acceptable for children and that she should take Harry to get a proper prescription. Aunt Petunia was flushed with shame and anger when she hung up the phone, and Harry had to pay for her embarrassment in the evening, when she found fault with him much more often than usual and eventually sent him to bed without dinner for some minor infraction. But, at the end of the week, Harry had brand new glasses, and the world seemed brighter than ever.

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*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

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Another of Dursley's birthdays came around and Mrs. Figg was out of town. The Dursleys, not knowing what to do with Harry, were afraid of what he might do to their house if left free to roam, and locked him in his cupboard.

They usually didn't do that for prolonged periods of time, unless it was to punish Harry, but they argued that they wouldn't be away for more than three hours, so Harry could do his homework, read or sleep.

Harry didn't mind that much – until he needed a bathroom break. It made him realize that a lot more time had passed than the announced three hours, as he was getting hungry as well.

"This is completely irresponsible!" ranted Tom. "Locking you in a cupboard all day like this – what if there was a fire?"

"I guess if there was a fire I would be desperate enough that I would somehow jump out of the closet. A fire's more scary than Dudley."

"Can't you try to be a little more desperate about your need to pee now?" asked Tom. "It's really uncomfortable. I feel like I can't hold it much longer, and I can't even let go!"

"I'm not sure it works that way," said Harry. "But maybe it's a concentration thing? Everyone who possesses super powers in movies doesn't have to be desperate to use them."

"Excellent idea! Try focusing on opening this damn door. Though it might be hard to focus on anything at all right now."

"No. I'm really good at that meditation stuff now. Give me minute."

Tom fell quiet and felt Harry calm down and relax. His breathing evened out and his heartbeat slowed. Strangely, the urge to go to the bathroom also diminished somewhat. Harry placed his hand on the door and concentrated very hard on the tiny bolt that kept his door shut. It shouldn't take much effort to slide it back. He could do so with his pinky. It should be possible to do it with telekinesis!

Yet the stupid bolt resisted. "You said you could move things with your mind," Harry said to Tom. "Do you remember how you did it?"

"It wasn't a conscious thing. If I wanted something that was out of my reach too badly, it just sometimes jumped at me."

"Maybe you should help me and concentrate on the bolt as well. After all, you want out of here just as much as I do."

Tom thought it couldn't hurt to try. If it was a mind power, there was no reason why he shouldn't have it anymore. He fixed his gaze on Harry's hand, and together, they focused with both their minds and all their might on the bolt, willing it to move.

And it suddenly did. The door sprang open. Harry stared at it in disbelief. He had opened the door with the power of his mind! He was no freak – he was some kind of snake whisperer with telekinetic powers!

"Awesome!" breathed Tom, who hadn't really believed it would work. Harry would have liked to bask in the glorious moment of their success a little longer, but the bathroom called.

That business concluded, he roamed the fridge for something edible and quickly made himself a sandwich.

"We have a problem," said Tom, when Harry had finished eating and started to clean up. "If we don't want Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to know about our amazing powers, we have to get back into the cupboard and manage to slide the bolt shut again."

"Darn." His desperation was gone. They could only hope that it had been the focusing part that had done the job.

They wasted no time and climbed back into the cupboard, where they sat for almost an hour, staring and focusing at the door again, willing it to shut. It didn't work. Fortunately, when the Dursleys finally returned after having been caught in a road block, they just assumed that they hadn't slid the bolt shut correctly and were relieved that Harry hadn't tried to get out.

They didn't apologize, but also didn't send Harry back into his cupboard until much later in the evening.

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*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

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Harry's tenth birthday passed – unacknowledged by the Dursleys, as always – but he and Tom commemorated the fact that they had been together for almost two years now. Harry couldn't even remember how it had been without Tom – it was unimaginable.

They continued to read books on psychology and even religious texts to find out about their weird connection, but so far, their search had not yielded any results. All of the points they had made still seemed possible, and they even had to add another:

5. Split Personality Disorder

It was Harry who had come across the phenomenon in one of his novels, and Tom had checked in his beloved psychology books if that was a real thing. Obviously, it was: He had found it as a potential consequence of severe mental trauma.

"But I didn't suffer severe mental trauma," argued Harry, who didn't like the idea of having a mental disorder at all."

"What about when your parents died in that car crash? You might have suffered trauma then."

"I was a mere baby. I doubt I understood what was going on."

"Hm. Well, you've only been speaking to me since you jumped onto that roof. Maybe that freaked you out more than you thought."

"It was scary, but not that bad. And now that I know I have powers like telepathy and telekinesis, it's not scary anymore at all – it's cool!"

Both boys made it a routine to meditate and then test their still rather fleeting and unreliable powers every evening. They found that fervently wishing for something to happen while concentrating with all their might on the outcome had the highest chance of making things happen, but only if they both engaged with equal fervour. They now managed to open – and close! - Harry's cupboard door with a high rate of success, though it took them a while. Sadly, feats like consciously jumping great heights like with Harry's initial stunt seemed even beyond their combined powers, at least under non-life-threatening circumstances.

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*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

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Time flew by, and before Harry knew it, the summer holidays, and with it his time at St. Grogory's Primary School, drew to a close. Harry had done extremely well in his classes since Tom, so good in fact that his teachers recommended to Aunt Petunia to consider sending him to Smeltings with Dudley, as Harry would surely profit from the smaller class sizes and the extra educational preparation.

Of course, the Dursleys would have none of it. They spent more than enough money on an extra kid they had never wanted, purely out of the goodness of their hearts. Harry would attend the local comprehensive school, Stonewell High, and that was that. Harry for once, wholeheartedly agreed – anything was better than having to attend the same school as Dudley, and he knew by now that he was capable of educating himself just fine.

Before the summer holidays, Dudley's eleventh birthday came, and since Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, the Dursleys were once again pondering what to do with Harry.

When they briefly considered putting him in the closet again, Harry said he was perfectly okay with that, but asked that they let him take the fire extinguisher with him, just in case. Aunt Petunia was horrified at the idea that Harry might somehow start a fire in their absence, and decided that he would have to come.

And so Harry enjoyed his first visit ever to the London Zoo. In fact, he enjoyed himself much more than the Dursleys, as his super powers manifested again – this time, entirely without Harry feeling any kind of despair. All he felt was annoyance at Dudley, who was first tormenting the huge python Harry was having a nice chat with by knocking repeatedly on the glass of the tank, then by shoving Harry rudely in the ribs when the snake turned his attention on him and hissed in anger at the interruption. Harry fell on his bum – it hurt! - and the next thing he knew, Dudley was inside the tank knocking frantically at the glass, and the snake was winding past Harry with a wink and a grateful "Adios, amigo! Brazil, here I come!"

Pandemonium broke loose. Dudley was screaming, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were screaming and the crowd of people were running and screaming.

Harry was laughing.

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