Changes Over Time

Harry looked proudly up at the corner shop clerk, a bleached blonde with thick black eyeliner accenting her eyes, and an eyebrow piercing to complete the look. 'Jenny', according to the nametag pinned to her shirt.

"Did you find everything you needed?" she drawled disinterestedly.

Harry nodded his head eagerly. "I did ma'am, thank you for asking."

The girl cocked an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of Harry's good manners. Good manners were a habit Harry consciously maintained, a fact that he was quite proud of. Not only was it one less thing for the Dursleys to yell at him for, but it was to his advantage as well.

Experience had taught him that even when someone wasn't inclined to like him (which, to be fair, seemed to be everyone), asking nicely would often get him what he wanted. It wasn't that people liked him more because of his manners...his theory was that they just felt worse about spitefully refusing someone that went out of their way to be nice to them. People are funny like that.

"Alright, well, that'll be a pound, then."

"Yes ma'am." He dug into his pocket, producing a moment later a handful of 1 and 10 pence coins and placing them on the counter, much to the ire of the clerk, who glared at him while he looked away sheepishly.

He knew he was making her job that much more tedious, but he really didn't have a choice. Having no money of his own, he'd resorted to spending a sizable portion of his free time collecting coins that had been carelessly dropped on the street. He'd already amassed quite a collection over the past year, so it had only taken another week of diligent searching to collect the rest.

"You sure you ain't got no one pound coins in that pocket of yours?"

Harry nodded sadly. "But I can count these for you, if you'd like."

The girl snorted, before quickly sorting out seven 10 pence coins and 30 pennies.

Harry scooped up the remainder with a smile, placing the left over pennies in his right pocket and the little handheld mirror he'd just purchased in the other.

"You have a good night now," the girl said, her voice flat, if not a little bit strained.

"You too!"

Harry was beaming as he exited the shop. Finally, he had a means to communicate with Tom.

Tom had explained over the course of the last week that though he experienced everything Harry experienced, essentially living inside Harry's head, he couldn't communicate telepathically without expending a non-trivial amount of energy.

The mirror was something he called a 'conduit' and would allow Harry to communicate with the other boy even while he rested and regathered the energy he'd lost while defending Harry. Harry wasn't entirely sure why he could only talk to Tom through the mirror – Tom had said something cryptic about the eyes being the window to the soul – but it was better than nothing.

What Harry did understand, though, was that for Tom, communicating with Harry without any external aides was quite strenuous, and seizing control over Harry's body was even more strenuous; after attacking Dudley in December, Tom had little energy left, and it would be quite some time before he accumulated enough magic to do more than speak to Harry through the mirror.

So Harry had eagerly agreed to purchase a small mirror to aid in their daily communication. Tom had advised that he should simply steal the inconspicuous object, but Harry had vehemently refused. He didn't want to become a thief.

"I'm better than that, Tom. I'm sure you understand."

The other boy had raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Which, really, was not all that uncommon for him.

Tom was a quiet sort of fellow, Harry had concluded. The few times they'd talked, Tom's countenance had rarely changed at all – it was always this curious, tranquil, and yet somehow fierce gaze that seemed to pierce right through him.

It was an odd thing, Harry thought, staring into his own eyes, albeit discoloured, as they burned with a light that seemed to mesmerize him in the most pleasant of ways, while still challenging him with a confidence Harry had not known his face could express.

Tom's voice was usually soft, and spoke slowly as though to allow Harry to soak in every word; it almost scared Harry to hear the eloquent, skilled sentences Tom weaved pass through his own lips.

This Tom, he could not help but notice, was nothing like the Tom in his dreams – this was a Tom who'd learned not only to control others, but also himself.

Harry had caught himself wondering a few times over the last week if something had happened between Tom's time at Wool's Orphanage and the point at which he had taken up residence in Harry's head a phenomenon that Tom had so far refused to explain, something that transformed Tom into a well-mannered, perhaps even considerate person, the anger and frustration born of his stifled childhood having faded with the rashness of his younger years.

But when Harry looked closely into Tom's eyes, or scrutinized his diction, enunciation, and tone, he knew that this was not the case – Tom had not mellowed over the years; the same anger and cruelty simmered beneath a carefully polished wall of glass; his calm facade carefully crafted yet easily shattered. This Tom, while clearly at least somewhat older and wiser, was probably just as dangerous as the little orphan boy who seemed to do nothing but plot and execute revenge.

Or at least, that was what he thought. It was still a bit early to do more than conjecture.

.....

Join my Pa#treon for more thrilling chapters! Help unlock a weekend bonus chapter by reaching 100 power stones. Let's make the story even more magical, together! 

Link : pa*treon.com/GalaxyWonder (Remove the *)