Chapter 2
His head felt hot, but his finger and toes felt frozen. Harry scrunched his face as his senses slowly came back. He could hear children playing and cars driving past, but it sounded off. Everything was muffled and distorted sounding.
"Hey! There's a kid over here!"
The shouting got closer, but he couldn't get his eyes to open. He could feel himself fading again as warm hands picked him up.
"Who.....face.....Tom.....mother." He could hear talking again, but this time it was getting clearer the longer he heard it. He tried to sit up, only to groan when not even a finger moved. His body was screaming in agony; why did he still feel pain? Isn't he dead already?
"Easy lad. You have been through a lot; you won't be able to move for a little while." A women's hand stroked his hair soothingly. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the world to be blurry without his glasses. Harry was shocked when the room came into focus. He could see! A huge smile split his face as he stared at the oldest ceiling he had ever seen. The wood was rotting, and boards were falling out of place. There were cobwebs in the corner with small spiders in them. He could almost count how many eyes they had! Harry squinted in amazement at his newfound perfect eyesight. Suddenly a woman's face popped into view, inches from his own.
"What's your name? Where did you come from?" Her eyes held suspicion and contempt in them. 'Why does she already hate me? The Dursleys must have told her about me.' At this grim realization, Harry began to shake and whimper.
"I can't go back. I can't. They will kill me." He whispered over and over. Frantically scanning the room for an escape.
"Hey! Calm down! I don't know what happened to you, but you are safe now." The words came from the younger woman in the corner. She was the only one who seemed concerned for him; the other just hated him already.
"Where am I?" He asked the nicer one, hoping she would say he was dead. "Am I dead?"
This startled both of them, and they rapidly shook their heads.
"Oh no! Of course not dear! You are at Wool's Orphanage!" He turned pale; they had finally done it. 'They actually dropped me off at an orphanage!' Dread welled up, and before he knew it he was throwing up whatever meager food was in his stomach.
"Oh my!"
"I will get some rags!" A hand was rubbing his back, but all Harry could think was that he was truly alone now. His only family had thrown him away. 'I guess this is what freaks deserve.'
"Who is he?"
Harry turned to see a boy standing in the doorway. Harry guessed he was probably the same age but much taller than him. It wasn't hard to be taller than him; everyone was. The boy had black hair and dark brown eyes, but his hair was neat, unlike his own rat's nest. Aunt Petunia hated his hair- said it made him look even more like a freak- she had even tried to shave it off. It grew back, of course, but he suffered dearly for the miracle.
"Who is he!?" Harry snapped out of his thoughts to see the boy had gotten agitated with the lack of answer from either of them.
"Now Tom-"
"Why does he look like me? What have you been hiding from me?" He was getting louder with each word, his volume now at a seething level. Harry hid his head under the blanket; he hated when people yelled. 'I look nothing like him! This boy is raving mad!' He was stuck in an orphanage with a bunch of loony people!
"Don't ignore me! Tell me what you know. Now." His voice got quiet and serious at the end, completely different from his tone before. Harry peeked out of the blanket when he heard the woman beside him gasp. She was sitting perfectly still with a blank look on her face.
"He showed up in the bushes this morning, covered in bruises. He just woke about five minutes ago. That's all I know." She droned. Harry frowned, confused about the sudden shift in attitude from the both of them.
"Good. Get. Out." The boy- apparently named Tom- stepped inside and gestured for the woman to leave as he spoke. She jolted up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Who are you? I am in no mood to play games. Tell me everything. Why do you look identical to me? Who were you living with, and why did you appear here?" His head spun with the rapid-fire questions, leaving him unable to talk.
"Must everyone be so dull?" Tom whispered to himself and strode over to the bed Harry was on. Harry tensed as hands reached for his head but gasped in surprise as his body forcefully relaxed when their skin met. The spot they were connected felt like lightning- or the time Dudley stuck his finger into the socket. The tingles spread to all his muscles and raced to center on his forehead. His brain lit in agony, and he doubled over with a groan. Tom watched all of this with an unreadable look on his face, never once removing his hand.
"Interesting." He hummed to himself and studied Harry's face closer.
"What does this feel like to you?" Tom asked, now stroking his hand up the side of Harry's face.
Harry was choking- his throat was locked along with the rest of his limbs. 'Why is he having no trouble?'
"Can you not move? Talk." Harry heaved for air as his lungs expanded again.
"What is happening?" Harry was so scared. 'Why does all of the weird stuff happen to me?"
"What weird stuff? Has anything like this happened before?" Tom hissed in his face, suddenly furious.
"How did you hear that? I was thinking!" All he received was a knowing smirk in reply and a harsh hand gesture that meant, "go on."
"It feels like I am being electrocuted, and my forehead is on fire." The pain was becoming more bearable by the minute. Harry was so tired of being in pain; he just wanted it all to stop.
"Your forehead?" Tom's hand left his cheek and pushed his bangs back to reveal the scar that Harry despised.
"Where did you get this? It feels.....powerful. Like it's mine." Tom's voice was getting faint as he focused on the lighting bolt. He reached out a finger and lightly brushed across it. All Harry could feel was fire. Less than last time but still all-consuming. In the distance, he could hear Tom's excited gasp and feel the body that climbed on top of his.
"So that's who you are." Clarity returned as quickly as it had left. The only thing remaining was a sense of dread that seemed to come from his very soul.
"Who am I?" He murmured, so dazed he could not form a more coherent sentence.
"I saw it all and know why you are here." Tom was smiling now and petting his hands over every part of Harry that was within reach. He leaned over and whispered in his ear, "To be mine, Harry. That's your purpose now."