This is the first (very short) chapter of a story that's roughly going to have 72.000 words. It's already completed (not beta-ed yet) and I've started on Harry's second year. I'm planning on having Voldemort defeated by the end of book 4. Hopefully, I will be able to update weekly, at least for the first book. As I have a thing for stuffing logic holes on the one hand but canon-compatibility on the second, you may expect numerous author's notes, which you don't have to read. :) Huge thanks to Dreamthrower, who should be named 'Dream Beta', as there is no one better!

As Fanfiction net sadly allows neither tags nor more than 4 characters, please allow me to add:

Additional Characters: Neville Longbottom, Albus Dumbledore, Hagrid, the Dursleys and logical others

Tags: no slash, Slytherin Harry, good Tom Riddle, evil Voldemort, mentor Severus Snape, first year AU

The Voice in his Head

Harry was sitting on the rooftop. One minute ago, he'd been running from his cousin Dudley and the three bullies he called his friends, only to be backed into a corner. The next, he found himself on the top of the school building, having not the slightest idea how he'd gotten here.

Bewildered and with a rapidly beating heart, he stared down at the school ground beneath him. It was a two-story building. Harry was not afraid of heights, but this didn't seem safe. Falling would definitely result in broken bones, if not worse.

"Oh my God, what have you done now?" asked a deeply shocked sounding voice somewhere close by.

Harry's head flew around searchingly, his heart picking up yet another beat. "Who's speaking?" Nobody was here. Of course not. Why would anybody else be inexplicably sitting on the school's rooftop?

A moment of silence followed, and Harry had half convinced himself that he had imagined the voice, when he heard it again. Whoever his invisible companion was, he sounded just as shocked and flabbergasted as Harry himself. "You can hear me now? You never could before …"

What the heck was that supposed to mean? "You've spoken to me before? Who are you and where?" Harry twisted around and craned his neck in an effort to find out where the owner of the mysterious voice was hiding, almost slipping on the slightly tilted roof.

"Stop moving, or do you want to fall?" scolded the voice, which sounded slightly panicky now. "I'm in your head, I guess, so if you manage to fall and break your legs, I will suffer, too."

Harry was numb with dread. He had somehow ended up on the roof, and now he was hearing voices in his head. His breath came in rapid gasps.

"Really, you need to get a grip," the voice said, and Harry had the impression that whoever was speaking was making an effort to sound calm and reasonable. "Flying is a new ability of yours, but my being here isn't, so there's no reason to get all worked up about it. In fact, I'm really happy that you can hear me now. It's horrible, living in a body and being unable to move or make yourself heard. Now, count your breaths until you've calmed down …"

"I must be going insane," Harry mumbled, nevertheless following the advice of the boy. Or at least that's what Harry assumed he was – he sounded like one, probably around his own age.

"So, how do you think we'll get down from here?" the boy asked, frowning. How the hell Harry knew he was frowning was anyone's guess.

"How would I know? I don't even know how I got up here."

"You sort of jumped," the boy supplied helpfully. "One minute we were there and then … boof - up on the roof. Pretty impressive. Maybe you could just jump down again?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Yeah, maybe not … Oh, oh – you probably won't need to. Look – you've been discovered!" Down on the school ground, a small crowd had gathered, pointing up at Harry on the roof excitedly. A teacher stared, mouth agape, before she hurried away, presumably to get help.

"I wonder how I am going to explain this …" murmured Harry. "When Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hear about this, I'll be in dire straits. If this isn't freaky, I don't know what is."

"Hopefully, you won't get a beating. I still remember the one he gave you when you accidentally smashed that ugly vase on the side table in the dining room."

Yes, Harry remembered that, too. It had been quite a while ago. "How long have you been around?"

The boy shrugged. Again, Harry wondered how he knew since he couldn't see the person he was talking to. Could the sound of a voice be imbued with the shrugging of one's shoulders?

"As long as I can remember," his invisible companion replied. "Which is at least back to Dudley's sixth birthday."

Before Harry could ask anything else, the door to the staircase leading up to the rooftop flew open and the school's janitor and Harry's teacher, Mrs Wright, appeared.

"Better you don't mention anything about me on top of it all," mumbled the voice warningly. "Hearing voices inside your head is rarely a good sign."

*'*'*'*'*'*

"This beating was the worst yet," groaned the boy who, true to his claim, seemed to feel every bruise and ache left on Harry's body in result of Uncle Vernon's sound thrashing just like he did. And there was a considerable amount of pain to feel at the moment. Vernon often and easily got into a rage, but normally, spitting, threatening, screaming and calling Harry names was all he did. He was often handled roughly, but only a handful of times had Uncle Vernon actually beaten Harry.

But hearing that his nephew had somehow ended up on the roof (the teacher, of course, assumed he had climbed up there, despite numerous witness reports that he had flown) had both his aunt and his uncle just short of a stroke.

"Yeah, definitely worse than the one after the vase incident," Harry agreed, making an effort to speak quietly lest his relatives punish him for more of his 'freakishness'. He – or they? - lay locked in the cupboard under the stairs on Harry's mattress, on his stomach, trying not to move around to much. Or Harry tried not to move. The voice in his head that supposedly shared his body had no control over it.

It was highly disconcerting that he could still hear the voice and have a conversation in his head. But right now, Harry couldn't help but find it comforting. It made him feel less alone, and it was nice to have someone share his misery.

"What's your name?" Harry asked. "I mean, I hope you have one - I can't very well keep calling you 'the boy living in my head'."

The so addressed seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Tom," he finally answered. "I think my name is Tom."

"You think? How can you not know your own name?"

"Well, for the longest time I thought I was you," Tom said defensively. "People would look at me and call me Harry, but I could never talk to them. I can't move, either. It's like someone named Harry is steering my body. It's very disconcerting."

Yes, Harry could imagine so. "But now you think you're not – me?"

"Something happened when you jumped on that roof. I suddenly remembered something. A dark place. They called me Tom – or sometimes other things, but those were not names."

"Who called you that?"

"People. Other kids." Tom shrugged. It was funny – it was as if Harry could feel the other boy's intent to shrug Harry's shoulders. This would probably take some time to get used to. "I don't remember very much. Except being cold, afraid, and always hungry."

"You realize that this is really weird, yes?"

"Weirder than flying to the rooftop?"

"No, I guess not."

"Maybe you have super powers."

"People don't have super powers except in movies."

"Normal people don't have other people living in their head," countered Tom, and Harry had to admit that he had a point.

"Maybe Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are right. I'm a freak."

"They called me that, too. The adults and other kids. I think it's because I had super powers, too."

Harry would have turned to look at the other in astonishment, but there was no one to turn to. "You did? Like what?"

"I could talk to snakes."

"Really? That's cool!"

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe you can as well. Have you ever tried?"

"There aren't many snakes in Little Whinging. But I could find out. They have a terrarium in one of the biology classrooms at school."

"Do that."

"You said 'powers', plural," Harry said curiously. "Can you do anything else?"

Tom seemed a bit reluctant to answer. "I could make fire," he finally admitted.

"Like lighting a candle without a match?"

"No. When I was really angry, things sometimes burst into flames." Tom hesitated. "I could sometimes move things without touching them, and I could make bad things happen to people who were mean to me. I could make them hurt."

"I wouldn't want things to burst into flames," remarked Harry, a bit fearful of what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would do if he ever set things on fire. "It sounds dangerous. But moving things without touching them sounds awesome. And sometimes, I wish I could make Dudley hurt."

"He's mean, a bully and stupid. Like your aunt and your uncle. Beating you up and locking you in the cupboard under the stairs – that's something only mean people do. Maybe you could move the bolt on the outside of the door if you concentrate strongly on it."

Harry liked the idea of having secret mind powers and gave it a try. But the bolt didn't move.

"Maybe I have to be desperate. I was very desperate when I flew to the roof."

"Yes, I only ever made things happen when I was really angry or scared. But maybe we can practice it. Speaking to snakes got easier the more often I did it."

"Tomorrow," Harry promised, closing his burning eyes. "I'm too exhausted right now. I just want to go to sleep."

"Alright, let's do it tomorrow. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Tom. You know, it's kind of cool to have you in my head."