Thought Experiments

July 20, 1990

Privet Drive was a typical middle-class street in Surrey. The fences were shining white, the roads freshly paved, and on every driveway laid a car of fair quality. The neighborhood was overwhelmed with a sense of normalcy, lacking anything odd. It was a decent place for decent folks.

The one exception to all of this was one little boy who resided there. Having appeared nearly ten years beforehand, his presence had been explained away by the occupants of number four as a result to a sudden death in the family. He would be painted as a troubled boy who had trouble expressing his emotions, something that resulted in the boy being ostracized by his peers. He was a quiet boy, something that was attributed to his past, although that didnt matter to the children of Privet Drive.

By nine years of age young Harry Potter had learned that he didn't like getting hit with a cane very much, nor did he like the spiders that bit him every night. Or the lack of space in his cupboard.

Most of all, Harry learned to keep track of time. A mistake would cost him food, water, the restroom, or all three, depending on how nice his aunt was feeling.

But then, on the the twenty-fifth of July, something extraordinary happened.

He had been cleaning the kitchen; scrubbing the pans, mopping the floor, when his cousin went and took money from aunt Petunia's purse. That was not out of the ordinary. Dudley had done it before. Harry had watched Dudley do it many times and this time seemed not so different. Petunia inevitably noticed a missing twenty pounds and Dudley inevitably blamed Harry and Petunia inevitably sent him back to his-

But she didn't. No. No she just happened to change both of their lives. Grabbing the pan Harry had been scrubbing Aunt Petunia decided to 'discipline' her nephew. But that's normal. Well, normal enough. What wasn't so normal was the blood gushing from his scar. She got scared then.Very scared. And what did she do? Shoved him into his room of course.

By that point Harry had already blacked out. Left her and not so little Dudley behind. You see, what made this particular day so special wasn't the frying pan or the blood. No. What made that day so very special was that it was the first time Harry ever heard 'his' voice.

July 29, 1990

"W- who are you?"

Harry swallowed nervously as he awaited an answer. Any answer. He had been hearing a voice for a few weeks at that point. Already, he had been punished for acting, as his family put it, "oddly". Again and again, Harry would find himself being beat for things he never remembered doing or saying, but it wasn't like before. It wasn't just his uncle and aunt being cruel for no reason. Something else was at play.

"Tom. My name is Tom." The voice introduced himself, itself with what sounded like a wary sense of confusion.

It had taken until the night before his tenth birthday, but finally Harry had a name for the voice that had been plaguing him for the better part of a week. And proof that he wasn't absolutely losing it, of course. Shifting uncomfortably in his cupboard, Harry did his best to not pressure his ribs, trying to keep the pain from spreading any further.

"W-why can I hear you Tom?"

"That is not a very easy question to answer, nor would the answer be easy to understand. For now, just know that I am here for you, Harry, for that is all that matters."

Harry whimpered as the pain at his side flaired up again. A moment later, Harry frowned. He'd heard the voice, there wasn't anymore doubt of that, but it still didn't make sense. "Who are you really?"

A sigh echoed through his mind. "Inquisitive. Untrusting. Very good Harry." Tom seemed to take a moment to let his words linger, or to think of an adequate response.

"I suppose I am you, in a way." Tom explained thoughtfully. "At one point, I was someone else but I am not that person anymore, perhaps only a fragment. All the best parts, I assure you. But still, that was the past and now in the present time, I am you."

Harry didn't even pretend to understand the ramblings. "Well, as a voice in my head, there's not much you can do for me" he muttered.

A laugh played in his mind. "On the contrary, there is much that I can do for you. There is much that I can teach. More than any other. If you let me guide you, I could help you with more than you would ever believe."

Harry's left side flaired up even worse than before. Taking a moment to breathe out the pain also gave him a chance to think on the offer. Very tempting, but it also seemed too good to be true. "Why?" He asked. "Why would you help me?"

There was another pause in the conversation. Both souls listening as Harry's dear aunt and uncle yelled at each other. Tom and Harry's conversation resumed once they left.

"For three reasons. Firstly, because if anything happens to you, it effects me. Hypothetically, if you were to die then I would be lost to this world. That is unacceptable."

A selfish reason, but Harry could hear the sincerity within it.

"I would also ask for a favor, from you to me."

And theres the catch. "What would you ask for?"

Tom remained quiet for a very long time. Long enough for the pain in Harry's sides to dull. But inevitably, he spoke again.

"Nothing that would get you killed, if that's what you fear. I'm no monster Harry, but do remember that I once lived. While I might have been gone from the world pieces of me have not."

"The third reason?" Harry whispered.

"I have seen your memories Harry Potter. I was like you, once upon a time. I too lived in a home where I was unwanted, forgotten. I too was beaten to make others feel better about themselves. It is not something i would see happen to another child."

Again, there was sincerity. And a bitterness Harry was all to familiar with.

"The way I see it, you have everything to gain and little to lose from this proposition- from this deal. Let me help you Harry."

Harry nodded. He still felt suspicious of what Tom might ask for, but he had no other option if he wanted what Tom promised. What did he have to lose? Tom himself had said that if he were to die, then so would he. His life would act as an assurance of Tom's sincerity. 

"How can you help me" the boy asked, still cautious but too curious for his own good.

"I can only help you if you sleep Harry. You will need to be fully recovered for what will come next. It will not be easy, that, I assure you. Nothing worth anything is. But it will be worth it, that I can promise you"

"Tom, it's going to take more than a nights rest for my body to get better."

He laughed in my head, though what was so funny about what I said? "See this as your first test of trust. I ask that you trust me and go to sleep. By morning, your body will be rid of its aches, bruises, and fractures."

Harry no longer had the energy to argue or question him. If Tom believed he would get better, than Harry would have to take him for his word. It was quickly after that that sleep took ahold of him. It felt as if he was dragged into unconsciousness by a force unknown to him.

July 30, 1990

Tom proved to be true to his word. Harry had woken the next day feeling refreshed, absent of the pain he had been feeling from the past week of discipline. He felt shocked. His arm had likely been broken and his ribs undoubtedly cracked just the day before, but now he felt good. Great even.

"How am I better?" He muttered to himself.

"Magic, Harry." Tom replied easily.

Harry foze at the word, the very same word that had seen him beaten the few times he'd uttered it. "Magic is real?"

The sound of laughter in his head clued him in. 

"I can assure you that Magic is very real. How else would you explain your acts of 'freakishness'? How else could you have landed on a roof last year? Because I can assure you, no matter how terrified a child is of their cousin, it is not normal for them to escape via rooftops. Listen, why would your family act so negatively to a simple word? They know what you are. They know that you are special. They fear you."

Harry felt his mind race, felt his heart beat. His face felt quite flushed. So much had happened and he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. But he wasn't alone. He had Tom. He had someone here, someone who could help him. 

"Say that you're correct and Magic courses throughout my blood. What next?"

"For now Harry, you must be patient. As a child your ability to explore magic is limited. Fear not, for there is much I can teach you even as a child. But first, there is much to explain. It's time you learned of your true world.”

July 30, 1991

Over the next year Tom gave an in depth explanation of the wonders of the Wizarding world. For Harry, it was an overwhelming experience, but Tom did his best. As patiently as he could, Tom answered any question Harry had. From Hogwarts to Gringotts, Diagon and Knockturn, and a briefing on where magic came from and it's many uses. Even with a year of knowledge there was still much the young Potter was ignorant of, but he knew enough. The goal had been for Harry to not go into magical Britain unprepared, and that had been achieved. 

That isnt to say that all was well for Harry Potter. The disipline from his relatives continued, and things only escalated as he got closer to his eleventh birthday. Of course, he knew why. Tom had already explained why they couldn't leave last year, and that made it easy to figure out why his 'family' was so antsy. 

Still, there were oddities in his own behavior. Once in a while, every few weeks, Harry would talk back when he never meant to. He would purposely ruin their food when he never meant to. It was like something took ahold of him for a few seconds in time, just enough to make his life even harder than necessary. A shrill voice woke him from his musings. 

"Hurry up with those windows boy! The plates won't clean themselves." Harry sighed, wishing that he could leave. 

"At least you don't have to cook anymore."

Harry stiffled a laugh. It seemed that even his relatives had a breaking point, with him messing up one to many meals. Though they did feed him even less than usual, so, maybe it wasn't the best thing. Not that he starved, since he had quite the stock of stolen food in his cupboard. 

Not wanting to agitate his relatives any further, Harry moved towards the kitchen sink, quickly working through the plates. Holding up a piece of fine china that his Aunt had been dining with, his body seemed to freeze. Almost as if acting on its own accord it dropped the plate on the floor, irreparably shattering it. Another shrill cry. More yelling ensued. Uncle Vernon stood up, looking redder than Harry had seen him in months.

"This I have had it with your disobedience you reckless aggravating beast! Do you forget your place boy? Have I not reminded you enough over the past year?” Shooting a pointer look at Petunia, his aunt quickly ushered Dudley out of the room. “Do you realize how lucky you are boy? We could have, should have left you at an orphanage the day your parents died! But no, your aunt and uncle showed mercy. We took you in when everyone else fled. We fed you every day, put clothes on your back, kept you decent.” The bloated man stood up from his chair and put his shaking hand on his nephew's shoulder. “But it doesn't matter to you, does it boy? No, you have shunned this family every moment you got and I don't know if your stupid or what but ill say it plainly. Nobody will give a shit about you in a few years. No family, not that you ever cared for us. No friends to help you, not that you made many friends! You still don't get it, I see it in your eyes. Fine then, we'll do it the hard way.” The way his voice shook let Harry know that he wasn't in for anything good. Before dragging him off to only God knows what, he spoke in a more measured tone towards his family. 

"Petunia, take Dudley with you and grab some desert. Give me an hour" Dudley looked so smug as he left with his mother. Bloody pig. 

As soon as they were put the door Vernon gestured for Harry to get closer to him. Vernon proceded to backhand his nephew, shouting at him for his disrespect for the family who had saved him. Not satisfied, knowing that the point hadn't yet gotten across Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him into the home's master bedroom, proceeding to throw him on the bed. Locking the door, his uncle starterted taking off his belt.

"Harry, get up! You-, listen to me, you need to get away from him right now!" Tom was yelling for me to get away and the fear in his voice echoed through my head. Dread filled me as I realized that Tom was scared.

Immediately Harry's attempt to get up were stopped as Vernon grabbed Harry by the neck and started squeezing.

"Feel that boy?! Not so insolent now are you!?" As his uncle continued to squeeze something seemed to take over his body for the second time that day, said entity getting Vernon to stop squeezing by kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. 

"Get up Harry! Hurry!"

Try as he might, Harry only managed to drag himself to the other side of the bed, making space between himself and Vernon. Not that it did any good. Screaming in rage, his uncle grabbed him by his legs, pulled him back, and proceeded to turn his bedsheets red via beating the crap out of his nephew. 

Harry felt himself starting to lose it, but Tom tried to rescue him. "Harry, focus on wanting him to hurt. Focus on your pain and imagine pushing it to your uncle! Concentrate Harry, just like when you landed on your schools roof. Focus and you'll get out of this!"

Harry tried, but it was hard to focus on anything. He just wanted to close his eyes and cry. "Harry, focus on your hate for your family. Think of everything they've done to you! You can't let them win! Come on Harry, prove that you are more than any of them, show them that you are special! That you have Magic!"

Harry tried again. Tried focusing on how he'd been treated so differently from the other kids of Privet Drive. And he felt angry. Hatred. But even with his righteous anger Harry still couldn't do it. Tom was yelling about something but the young boy didn't hear him. Then, as Harry had finally given up, the miraculous happened.

Fire. Lots and lots of fire.

Uncle Vernon, terrified, tried to get away. He tried. But the fire got to him too. Vernon, along with the house, was burning for their crimes. Harry could only look on as the home he had lived in for his entire life was coming down with him still in it. Tom was still trying to tell him something, but he found it hard it difficult to hear much of anything. Getting off of Vernon's bed, Harry moved for the only things that wasn't made of wood, his relatives closet. Closing the door behind him, Harry hugged his knees and hid as it got increasingly more difficult to breathe.

July 31, 1991

When Harry woke up he notice a few things: for one, he was alive. Secondly, there was a very old man staring at him. And most importantly, there was an increasingly panicked voice in his head.

"Harry, I know that you must be  scared, confused, but I need you to remain clam. This man infront of you and I, or infront of us, well-" Both a sense of dread and urgency seemed to muddle itself through Tom. "-well he is a very powerful man, someone from our world. And we are in his domain. No matter what he asks, do not mention me. He can cause us both alot of pain." 

Harry tried to assure his friend that he wouldn't say anything,  but assuring someone while not being able to speak proved difficult. Choosing to face the inevitable, Harry sat up  from the bed he found himself in, even if it hurt to do so. "Do you know where I am?"

The old man's eyes snapped towards Harry's, acting as if he had been in an entire different world, rather than just sitting right next to him. When he spoke, his voice sounded like crackling paper. "Ah, you woken up Harry. That's a very good thing." He seemed to be having a hard time seeing, as he took a moment to wipe something from his glasses. "For where you are, why, your in my home of course! Where else could I greet you while wearing purple robes?"

For a second, both Tom and Harry were silent. Before either could think to say anything the old man continued. 

"But we have yet to be properly introduced. My apologies Harry, as a host it is one of the first things I should have done. But there is no changing the past, so I suppose we must work with what we have." He took another moment to right his glasses. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. And you are?"

"Harry Potter?"

"Very good!" The old man, Albus, seemed to have a hard time not coughing as he laughed about something. "So, now that we know each other we can get back to the main issue. Harry, when I found you yesterday you were asleep in a closet, surrounded by quite a magnificent fire. Harry, do you remember how that fire occured?"

"Don't explicitly lie to him, he'll notice. Just fudge on the details, specifically any that have to deal with you know who." Tom's voice seemed to slither through the back of Harry's mind as the boy coughed violently. As if by magic, Dumbledore had a glass of water ready in hand to offer Harry.

It was absolutely delightful. 

"Sir, my.... my Uncle was punishing me for doing something I shouldn't have, and I wanted him to stop. All I know is that fire appeared and I was scared. Is he alright sir? My Uncle Vernon?" The worst part was that Harry was being genuine, because for as much as he disliked his family he was still ten years old. Death and killing were still relatively alien concepts. But given that Dumbledore hesitated before responding, some part of Harry already what had happened. What he had done. "I'm very sorry Harry but your uncle wasn't as lucky as you were. I barely got there in time to save yourself, and that's only because of what you are Harry Potter-"

"A wizard?"

The man's eyes seemed to brighten upon hearing that. "Ah, so your aunt did tell you! Apart of me was worried.... but no matter! As you may have already guessed,  I too am a wizard, in fact it's how I knew you were in trouble." Dumbledore still seemed to be shining with relief as he continued. "You should also know that young boys and girls who have been blessed with magic must go to special schools that teach them how to control their gifts. I myself am a headmaster at one of these special schools, the finest in Britain, if rumors are to be believed." The man looked earnest and wistful all at the same time as he spoke. "Harry, I would be most honored if you would attend Hogwarts, my school and the home of many, myself included."

Harry looked around the room he was in with a new curiosity. The walls stone did look older than anything he had ever seen, and the ceiling was taller then any he'd find in Privet Drive. Both Tom and Dumbledore were quiet, waiting on the young boy to answer.

"So, if I were to attend your school Professor.... when would it begin?" The beaming smile on his face let Harry know that he answered correctly.