Laughing with one another, screaming with each other
In another universe, Harry Potter would spend recess alone because his cousin, Dudley, had intimidated any kid who dared to approach Harry.
However, in this one Harry did that himself.
When he started to go to school, the other kids would always try to include him. They would sit with him, chat with him, sometimes even walk back to the Dursley's house with him. Harry never cared much, but they seemed to think his heterochromia was the eighth wonder of the world, and honestly, Harry was content with letting them be. It felt good to have their adoration.
He was fine with his classmate's adoration. No, the real problem was the adults.
They looked at him with so much pity, it was revolting. It made Harry's skin crawl with such an irrational anger that it couldn't be fully his. He was sure that part of his hatred for pitying looks came from Tom somehow, Harry Just didn't know how.
Anyways, Harry didn't quite understand why his teachers and the school staff in general seemed to pity him so much, until the day he overheard a conversation between his math teacher and his science teacher:
“I- I just don't get it, why would his relatives?...” Martha, the science teacher whispered.
"Child abuse never has an explanation, it just happens." The other responded and Harry saw Martha shake her head,
"Even so... Shouldn't we do something about it?"
"Well," Guilherme —or simply Gui, as he instructed most kids to call him— said slowly, watching the courtyard through the window, "There isn't any substantial proof. It's painfully obvious that the kid is being abused, but without proof... There's nothing that can't be done."
Martha let out a sad sigh, "Poor little Harry..." She said, looking down before looking up again, "This is so messed up ... He can't even make any friends! He walks around with other kids the entire day but doesn't talk to even a single one of them!"
Gui shook his head, "Forget it Martha, we can't do much besides treating him well."
She sighed again, "I guess you're right..."
Sure, their pity now made sense, but it didn't mean Harry was any less annoyed about it. The Dursleys sucked and Harry sincerely wished they'd die in a ditch or something, but to hear two complete strangers say that he's abused and talk about him like Harry is some kind of helpless and fragile doll made his blood boil.
How dare they? Was the only thing that crossed his mind when he thought too hard about it. Harry wasn't entirely sure whether these feelings were entirely his or not, but it didn't matter; Tom felt too much like him for Harry to be able to ignore him anyways.
As Harry's hatred towards his teachers grew so did he, and when Harry was 7, he finally decided enough was enough.
The morning went by like any other, with Dudley throwing a fit about not being allowed to have ice cream for breakfast and Harry silently thinking of exactly 12 ways he could snap his cousin's neck. Then they were off to school and when lunchtime came, Harry decided it was time to put an end to the teachers agony.
The first person to sit by his side that day was a girl from his class, —Vanessa if he remembered correctly— she had pigtails tied with lilac pompoms and Harry felt the distant urge to steal those from her.
The girl was talking about inane things when Harry gripped her arm. He got up from his seat and pulled her up too. Vanessa looked at him with confusion, but before she could even open her mouth... Harry twisted her arm.
The reaction was immediate, Vanessa started to scream and out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a teacher —Martha, how ironic— approaching quickly.
Harry didn't waste much time before then shoving her to the ground, stomping on the girl's twisted arm with all the strength his small body had. Vanessa screamed more as tears fell down, she tried to wiggle away but Harry proceeded to kick her head, making she cry out again.
(It was weird, but why did it feel like some miniscule part of him didn't want to do this? Why did his heart hurt when Harry saw Vani's tears?)
As the teacher finally arrived and pushed Harry away from the sobbing girl on the floor, Harry couldn't help but finally notice the laughter that seemed to fill his head. The voice sounded like him and someone else at the same time, making him laugh along.
After 'The Incident', like most people at school called it, the teachers no longer looked at him with pity. No, now they look at Harry with varying degrees of horror, fear, repulsion or even anger, and that made him feel so much better.
Sure, now not only his classmates but the entire school avoided him. But it was fine, Harry never really cared about any of them, and as long as they didn't try to hurt him, he wouldn't go through the trouble of trying to do something against them. Thankfully, most of them were too terrified to even think of going after him.
Obviously, the Dursleys had been furious with what he did (Mostly because they had to pay the girl's hospital bill), but aside from locking him in the cupboard for two weeks and giving him a few slaps and hair pulls, they didn't do much.
All in all, his plan had been great, and Harry was content with the results.
(So why did he still feel this hurt whenever he thought about Vanessa's tears? Why did he feel like she hadn't deserved any of that? Why did he feel sorry?)
Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of such thoughts. Feelings like sorrow and regret were weaknesses. Weaknesses that he couldn't afford to have if he wanted to stay alive in this world.
He stopped staring at the lilac pompom and put it on his wrist. Harry was still slightly disappointed that he'd only managed to steal one, but in hindsight, if he had got the pair he wouldn't know what to do with the other.
If his classmates looked at him with horror and disgust when Harry went to school with it still wrapped around his wrist, he didn't care, but nonetheless Harry started to always wear it when he went to school.
When Harry opened his eyes, he could immediately tell that he was dreaming. It had been so long since he last had this type of dream, that Harry wasn't even sure if the last one had really happened. But when his eyes finally met Tom's, Harry was once again assured of the very real aspect of these dreams.
"Tom?" He looked older now, the same age as Harry in fact.
"Hey Harry." Tom said, smiling softly.
Harry had forgotten how much he missed Tom. That horrible emptiness was always there when Tom wasn't around.
Harry remembered clearly now, that four years ago when he woke up from his last dream, that terrible feeling had consumed him– So much so that Harry could only spend the entire day crying, even with the Dursleys screaming at him.
But as time passed, the hollow in his heart settled, and Harry just... Lived with it. And with the years passing, he gradually just forgot all about it; the memories becoming hazy and alien to him.
Harry looked at Tom again and tried to hold back the tears. He didn't want to look like a cry baby but... Harry simply couldn't hold in the relief he was feeling.
"Why did you leave?!" Harry screamed at Tom, while also hugging him with all his strength. He couldn't really see Tom's face, but Harry guessed the boy probably looked shocked.
"I... I didn't leave, Harry. Why are you crying? We saw each other yesterday."
At this, Harry stopped sobbing. Did Tom have no sense of time? If so, that explained a lot. Harry didn't remember if he saw Tom when he was a baby, but they used to see each other a lot back 4 years ago. Since they had the same age, Harry guessed it was because kids were more needy at that age.
Harry sniffed and slowly let go of Tom, "It has been four years, Tom."
Tom's eyes widened, "You're lying." the boy said as his eyes raked through Harry's face, looking for any signs of untruth. Harry just stayed still and let him; after all, Harry did the same thing too when he suspected someone was lying to him. He didn't know how, but he'd always been able to tell when someone was lying.
Tom let out a shaky exhale when he arrived at the correct conclusion that Harry was indeed telling the truth, "Then... I don't have any concept of time?"
Harry nodded, "I think so. Didn't you notice your body change? You look older."
Tom looked down at his own body, "No I... I didn't even notice that, when did I?..."
Harry shrugged, "I don't know, it has been four years since the last dream. Where have you been?"
"Nowhere. I have been here the entire time. It was like I blinked and you left, then I blinked again and you were back."
Harry inclined his head, "That's weird..."
Tom huffed, "Weird doesn't even begin to cover it."
Harry looked back at Tom, staring at him, "Do you even know what you're?"
Tom opened his mouth but closed it again, he frowned trying to concentrate, but Tom's face scrunched up as if he was in pain.
"Tom?..." Harry asked, his voice small and fearful. His companion stayed in silence for a while longer before responding angrily, "I already told you, I'm you."
When Tom looked back at him, his eyes looked blood red, and why was the color so appealing to Harry? It made him take a shaky breath, "Your eyes..."
And then Tom blinked and his eyes were back to their normal chocolate brown color. "What do you mean by 'your eyes'?"
Harry's own eyes widened as he spoke frenetically, "Red! Your eyes were red, Tom! Like... Like blood and and–"
Tom rolled his eyes fondly, "Calm down, Harry, I can barely understand you."
Harry took a deep breath, "Your eyes were red for like, one second there, and then when you blinked they became brown again!"
Tom arched one eyebrow, "Are you sure?"
Harry nodded.
Tom sighed and looked back at Harry, huffing with cruel amusement, "Well, at least that's not any weirder than your eyes."
Harry's hand automatically moved to his left eye, covering it, "Rude."
Tom's only reply was a smirk.