Rewind

He sat at the head of the table, stroking the scales of the snake in his lap. The others sat around him, their heads bowed and their voices soft mutters in the night. Harry was pleased -very pleased- and decided to celebrate with his favorite curse. Reaching out with his wand in his hand, he pointed it upwards until it was directed at the woman hanging from the chandelier above.

"Charity Burbage, sssso glad you could... join usss." The snake in his arms twitched and his followers lapsed into anticipatory silence.

The woman slowly lifted her head and met his gaze. "Dumbledore will find you, and he will stop you!" Her voice wavered under the hatred in his red gaze, but she refused to cower.

Harry felt a deep, violent rage rise up inside of him, and he directed it out through his wand. "Silence, mudblood scum! Crucio!" The stream of red light hit the woman's body, and her screams filled the air. He watched dispassionately for a few long moments, before ending the spell. The woman's screams turned into whimpers of pain as her muscles convulsed and her limbs twitched in the aftermath.

"Your preciousss Dumbledore isn't here to sssssave you now," he hissed in satisfaction, once again lovingly stroking the cool scales of the snake in his arms. "Nagini!" The snake in his arms twitched, and rose up to slide on top of the table. Her eyes glowed and her scales shone in the flickering light of the fire as she slithered her way down the table towards the hanging woman. Harry's followers began to laugh and jeer, watching the woman struggle futilely against the ropes which bound her.

The woman's voice rose up above the sounds of laughter as she twisted her body around to face one of the cloaked men at the table. Her eyes were wide and pleading as she said, "Severus, please!" but the man sitting there merely looked at her, his face a blank mask. The sounds of laughter grew louder in response to this desperate and useless cry for help, and Harry watched with a sick, putrid joy when Nagini's fangs glittered in the firelight as she opened her jaws.

He hissed softly, watching the violent death of the Muggle Studies Professor in glee. "Goodbye, Charity Burbage."

Harry woke up with a jolt and his eyes flew open in the darkness of his cupboard. He listened to his gasping breaths for a few minutes, trying not to think about the strange dream he had just had. He'd been having more and more of these strange dreams, and he didn't know where they were coming from. Unlike many dreams, they had a sort of odd resonance to them that made Harry want to laugh and cry at the same time. It was almost like he was remembering things, but that couldn't be true; those things had never happened to him. He didn't carry around a weird pale stick thing or have a giant snake.

He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, knowing that if he continued to think about it, he would never be able to get back to sleep. He turned over a few times, attempting to get comfortable, but kept bumping into the sides of his cupboard. Harry sighed; he really was getting too big for the tiny space. Just as he was finally drifting off, he heard a soft voice whisper his name.

"Harry..."

His eyes flew back open and he sat up, peering around his cupboard. "Who's there?" he whispered back, but he already knew that there wasn't anyone else in his cupboard; they wouldn't fit. He sat very still for a few more moments, wondering if the person was outside the cupboard door. He immediately tossed that idea aside- after all, the voice had sounded very close. Almost as if it were coming from his very head....

"Hello, Harry Potter."

No. No way. Could it be?...

"Tom?" Harry whispered uncertainly into the darkness, and he heard a chuckle in answer. But that time he was sure the voice had come from his head.

"Yes, Harry, it is I."

"Are you in my head? How'd you get in there? Am I crazy? Uncle Vernon say's only crazy people hear voices inside their heads."

Tom's voice was amused. "Yes, my voice is inside your head, no you are not crazy; I am able to speak to you like this because of your scar. It gives us a connection."

Harry scrunched up his face in confusion and raised a hand up to his forehead. "My scar?" he asked, as he traced the lightning bolt shape with his finger. "How? What connection?"

But Tom merely said, "I don't think you're quite ready for that story just yet. Another time, perhaps. And there is no need to speak out loud, Harry. I can hear you if you use your mind just as well."

The young boy laid back down and cuddled up under the blankets. "Really? Can you hear me now?" he thought sleepily, trying his hardest to focus his thoughts and direct them at Tom, hoping it would work; he'd never spoken to someone in his head before.

Tom chuckled again and said quietly back, "Yes, Harry. Now, get some sleep, and I promise to visit soon."

Harry yawned and closed his eyes. "Alright. G'night, Tom."

Tom's voice faded out slowly. "Goodnight, Harry Potter."

Harry fell back to sleep and dreamt of a tall man with long pale fingers and dark hair. When he woke up the next morning, he couldn't remember anything from the night before, except that it had been a pleasant one.