Madam Pomfrey immediately took her place, worried.
"What happened, Harry?"
"My head suddenly started to hurt," the boy replied, stretching his words and altering his tone to sound weak and pained. Peeking at Pomfrey, he noticed something strange—the mediwitch turned in the direction the headmaster had left and gave a sinister smile.
"Hold on a bit, Harry. I'll bring you some medicine."
Thinking about this and taking advantage of the moment, the boy shifted his position. When Poppy returned, she found a simply tired child, covering his eyes with his hand.
"The pain's almost gone," he said.
"Oh, that's good. Don't worry, just get some rest. If the pain comes back, drink this potion, and you'll sleep like a log."
"Thank you." The boy-who-lived managed a faint, exhausted smile.
She left only after picking up his fallen glasses, repairing them with a spell, and placing them on the bedside table next to the potion.
Turning on his side and pulling the blanket up to his chin, unaware that he had the soul of a great actor-dramatist, Harry started to reflect on the chaotic events of the day. The thoughts stirred up by the headmaster continued to swirl in his mind like turbulent currents—memories spinning one after the other, looping endlessly: the Philosopher's Stone, Quirrell's death, his body turning into gray dust, the storm of power, and the strange presence within him after the black shadow.
"The shadow entered me and stayed," the voice in his head kept screaming. "It came in, but not entirely. The black soot remained outside, but something got inside and took me! Or someone did. Who am I now—Harry or Tom, who's screaming inside me like a madman?"
Deep, powerful pulses began to come from somewhere inside, spreading heat from his solar plexus and disconnecting the boy from the outside world.
Then the voices came again.
Harry found himself in a strange black space, hovering like a firefly between unfamiliar lamps and wires, between light and darkness.
"Tom! Tom, do you hear what I'm saying?"
"I hear you, Miss Cole."
"What Miss Cole? It's me, your alter ego."
"But I'm not Tom, I'm Harry Potter. First year, Hogwarts, Gryffindor."
"That's just your name. Your true self is called Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Another firefly appeared before glowing Harry. He could feel indescribable emotions emanating from it.
"That's not true, I'm Harry, and I must've gone mad. How I hope I'm crazy and won't have to go back to my relatives on Privet Drive!"
"Call yourself whatever you want, but I'm telling you that we are two parts of one person, and that person's name is Tom. You must trust me; we need to merge our essences into one."
"I don't want to merge with you, you're my madness! Who would want to unite with their madness? Only a lunatic! I'll wake up now, and everything will be fine. You'll be gone, and Professor Dumbledore will protect me from you. Ron and Hermione are waiting outside to walk with me to the Gryffindor Tower."
Although Harry had been hostile toward this strange Tom, with every word, Harry began to believe him more and more, realizing that everything was happening inside his head—and there was no way to lie about that.
"Listen up, Harry. You call yourself that, but I can sense my other self in you. I'll prove it! Look at this glowing little orb—see how small it is? It's a fragment of my magical core that was passed on to you. Touch it with your hands; I'll touch it too. Our souls—mine and yours—will unite, and you won't hear me anymore. Only you, Harry Potter, will remain, and I won't hold it against you. But our magical cores will merge, and your power will grow. And remember, I'll always be nearby and won't let anyone harm you, I swear!"
"How did we end up separated?"
"You'll see and understand later, but for now, we must act quickly!"
"Hmm, I'm not so sure."
"Doubt if you want, but haven't you dreamed of being a powerful wizard? Haven't you wanted to get back at your relatives?"
"I have, of course!"
"Then don't waste time. Put your hands on the core and see what happens!"