Harry Potter 1. Prologue: Cracked

**A/N: While I am not the first fanfic writer to invent Schizo!Harry, I think I might be the first to combine it with time travel.**

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**Prologue: Cracked**

It was a beautiful spring day in Little Whinging, Surry. It was warm but there was a cool breeze and the scent of lilacs in the air. Mrs. Petunia Dursly, however was not enjoying the fine day. She was kneeling in her flower bed planting some perennials to brighten up the front yard. To her left, several yards away, was her young nephew Harry Potter. The boy was pulling weeds, placing them into the basket beside him, all the while muttering softly to himself.

Petunia pursed her lips. It didn't matter how many times she and Vernon had told the boy to stop talking to himself, the boy still did it. They had even locked him in his cupboard for a week. It hasn't stopped him. In fact, you could hear him muttering to himself in the cupboard. The only good thing you could say about it was that most the time he did it so quietly you couldn't understand what he was saying. On those rare occasions when you could understand him...

It sounded like he was having an argument with himself.

It was so abnormal and not a little insane. The whole street had taken to calling him the 'mad lad'. While the Dursley's were grateful for the sympathy they received in raising their mentally ill nephew, they disliked the attention it brought.

It hadn't always been always like this. Four months ago the boy had been almost normal, aside from the freakishness he got from his parents. He was an ungrateful troublemaker, yes, nothing at all like her sweet Dudley. But at least he acted normal most the time. About three months ago that had all changed. It was as if the boy had gone to bed one night and woke up mad.

She supposed she could handle it, if muttering to himself was all the boy had taken up. Around the same time he started talking to himself, the boy's personality seemed to have changed too. Now days, when Petunia asked him to do something instead of resigned acceptance or the occasional defiant refusal he use to give, in response the boy would nod with a blank face and do which she asked.

But that wasn't the strange thing about him. If you watch the boy you noticed that emotions would flicker across his face for no reason at all. She would be sitting at the dinner table, eating silently, staring at his plate while anger, sadness and joy played across his features in quick succession. If he caught you looking at him, his face would resume its expressionless mask.

And he would often stare at nothing for long periods of time or worse, at people.

And this wasn't all. Dudley had always enjoyed roughhousing with the boy at home and at school but two months ago Petunia had met with the boy's teacher because he had viciously attacked Dudley, leaving her poor boy bleeding and bruised. The teacher had also caught the boy banging his head violently against a brick wall. When asked why the boy had said it was because he wanted to voices his head to shut up.

The boy had been locked his cupboard for a month after what he did to Dudley. They heard him screaming at night and it was only Vernon's threats to thrash the boy within an inch of his life that made him stop. It has been a month since the boy was let out of his cupboard and his behavior, while no longer as erratic, was still unusual enough to be noticeable. And the boy _still_ constantly muttered to himself.

It seemed apparent to everyone that the boy called Harry Potter was utterly mad.


	2. Chapter 1: Fractured

**Chapter 1: Fractured**

"Get the mail, boy." His uncle Vernon ordered.

Harry said nothing but stood up from the table, where they were having breakfast, and walked to the living room. There was a small pile of letters by the door underneath the mail slot. Picking them up and idly looking through them Harry went still when he saw a thick envelope that was addressed to him. It even had his cupboard on it. It had come.

_I told you it would._

The Other said. Harry ignored him. The truth was, he hadn't really believed the voice when it had told him he was a wizard or that he would be going to a magical school called Hogwarts. It seemed even crazier than having a voice in your head that sometimes attempted to control your body. It also sounded too good to be true.

Harry knew he was a bit odd. Strange things had often happened around him—like that time he had turned his teacher's hair blue and he had recently talked to a snake—but he had never suspected that what he was doing was magic. That is, until three months ago, when he had been sleeping in his cupboard and suddenly wasn't alone in his own head anymore.

The Other, as Harry called him, said that he was Harry Potter from the future. The Other had tried to take over his body and make him do… well, he wasn't quite sure what the Other wanted to do but Harry had fought him. And he had won, sort of. The Other could not fully control him when he resisted but Harry discovered quickly that he could not resist very well if he was feeling really angry or afraid. Or any strong emotion, really.

The worst part was that the Other was able to read Harry's thoughts but Harry couldn't read his. He could feel the Other's emotions, when he was paying attention, but he was afraid to believe anything the Other said. Everyone now thought he was crazy now because he talked to the Other out loud. Harry couldn't help it. He was beginning to think he was as mad as people said he was.

The first month had been the worst. They had fought for control of his body every day, with the Other seeming to become increasingly desperate. It was when Dudley and his gang were chasing Harry that he let his fear get the better of him. The Other had taken over completely for the first time. He had attacked Dudley so badly that his cousin was still afraid to come too close to him.

Folding the letter in half, Harry secreted it in the pocket of his trousers (which used to be Dudley's and were three time his size). Though he desperate wanted to read it, Harry knew it would be safer to wait until he was somewhere where his aunt and uncle couldn't see it. They hated even the idea of magic and there was no way they would let him go to a school of it.

_Good idea. They tried to stop me from reading my letter. Not that it worked._

The Other said and Harry felt a mixture of emotions from him. Amusement and nostalgia were the main ones but there was hurt and frustration in there, too. He returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table after handing his uncle the small stack of letters.

"What happened?" Harry muttered. He usually tried to avoid asking the Other questions because he didn't want to encourage him but he couldn't help himself.

_Uncle Vernon boarded up the mail slot. That didn't work. They just sent the letters under the door and through chimney. The house was full of them!_

Harry laughed causing his aunt and uncle to glare at him.

_Eventually Uncle Vernon droves us to a shack out on an island, that's when Hagrid broke the door down and gave me my letter. You should have seen the look on Uncle Vernon's face…_

The Other trailed off and Harry again caught a stream of emotions that weren't his. Wonder, happiness, sadness and regret. The Other never seemed to feel just one thing at once. It was always a bunch of things at the same time.

_When have seen and done all the things I have, you'll feel 'a bunch of things at the same time' too._

Harry hoped not but didn't respond. He didn't want to get into another argument. Not when he and the Other were getting along, or at least, not fighting all the time. He'd been locked in his cupboard for a month after the Other beat up Dudley. They'd talked a lot while he was shut in the cupboard and had come to a truce.

0-0-0-0-0

Harry was laying his cot, staring blindly in the darkness of his cupboard. He had heard the Dursley's go upstairs to bed an hour ago. He didn't dare try to sneak food from the refrigerator for at least another hour. But he was hungry. His stomach growled. At least Aunt Petunia had let him use the bathroom before she went to bed. He didn't think he could have held it for the rest of the night.

"This is all your fault." He told the Other angrily.

_I didn't mean for this to happen._

"What, you didn't mean to take over my body and attack Dudley?" Harry scoffed.

_No, I didn't. I just… acted on instinct. _

There was a pause, and then,

_I didn't think coming back would be like this._

Harry felt the Other's frustration and…fear? What did the Other have to be afraid of?

_I have plenty of reasons to be afraid. People will die if I don't save them. And I can't do that if I'm stuck in hear with you._

Harry knew the Other wasn't talking about the cupboard.

"Then you shouldn't have come back, if you're really from the future you should have known you'd be stuck with me."

_You weren't supposed to survive. I thought I'd have my body to myself._

Harry felt the chill of fear run down his spine. I the Other really was him, did that mean he'd become the sort of person who would kill his younger self so he could uses his body? He resolved that he would never do something like that. The Other sighed and Harry felt a roil of emotions from him: pain, regret, sadness and determination.

_I have killed a lot of people. Killing a younger version of myself didn't seem any worse that some of the things I have had to do. I should have know that a boy who could throw of the imperious curse at fourteen would put up a good fight._

The last thought was full of resignation and…admiration? Of Harry? Was this a trick the Other was playing to attempt to control him again? Harry tensed, preparing for the mental battle he expected would occur at any moment.

_Let's make a deal. I'll stop trying to take over, unless there is an emergency—_

"You'll really stop?" Harry asked, torn between hope and distrust.

_If you agree to do what I tell you, five times every day._

That was almost as worrying as the Other taking over. Harry's mind whirred with the things he might have to do.

"Three times every day and I'll do it,"

_Alright, three time a day_

Harry could feel the Other's annoyance and, to his surprise, relief. Maybe this could work out after all…

0-0-0-0-0

After breakfast, Harry went to the park that was several block away from Privet Drive. I was summer and the park was already crowded with children. None of them bothered him as he made his way to the swings and sat down on the one farthest from the slide. With fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope and put out the thick parchment within. He read the short letter and list of school supplies twice before asking.

"Where am I supposed to get all this stuff? And how can they be 'awaiting my owl'? I haven't got an owl."

_Not yet, but you'll get one soon. You can get all this stuff in London. I'll show you where. Your birthday's coming soon, how would you like to have the best birthday ever?_

"What do you mean?"

_You'll see, but first there are somethings you need to do..._


	3. Chapter 2: Diagon Ally

**Chapter 2: Diagon Alley**

That night Harry got ready. He emptied out his school rucksack and filled it with his belongings. He packed his underclothes (those at least fit) and a few items he thought might be useful, like pencils and a ruler. Lastly, he opened an old cigar box (that he'd stolen from a dust bin) which he kept hidden under his cot.

Inside were his most treasured possessions: a greenish rock he'd found when he was six, a tooth that had fallen out a few years ago, a blue feather he had found while gardening, a few toys and a box of crayons he'd stolen from school when he was five. Harry debated whether or not to take the broken action figures that had once been Dudley's but decided he was too old for them. The Other snorted but did not say anything.

For three days he watched and waited and then it happened. Mrs. Figg, their neighbor, would usually leave her house once a week to buy cat foot and once Harry was sure she was gone he got his rucksack and went into the Dursley's backyard. Making sure Aunt Petunia wasn't watching him through the window, he threw his rucksack into Mrs. Figgs backyard, and then scrambled over the fence himself. The back door to 's house had a large cat flap. Harry shoved his rucksack through first and then spent several minutes wriggling through the cat flap which was smaller than it looked.

He emerged sprawled on Mrs. Figg's kitchen floor. Brushing cat hair off himself he asked the Other, "Now what?"

_Go to the living room, by the fireplace._

Harry did. He was standing in front of what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary fireplace when he jumped and yelled in surprise. He looked down, a cat with gray fur was rubbing up against his leg. He nudged the cat gently out of the way with his foot, laughing nervously.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble," he said, wondering why he had agreed to do this.

_Only if you get caught._

He could sense the Other's amusement. Harry shook his head. "I still not sure that Mrs. Figg knows about magic,"

_You didn't believe me about the letter either. _The Other pointed out._ Look on the mantel for a bag of powder._

Harry found a ceramic pot behind a large picture frame of one of Mrs. Figg's many cats. Removing the lid, he found it full of a silvery powder. He sighed in relief and then set about lighting a fire. There was blackened wood already stacked in the grate and he was surprised to see that it was giving off heat. Mrs. Figg must have doused it just before she left, but who had a fire when it was summer?

_Witches do, or at least, those raised by magical people._

It was easy to get the fire going by adding old newspapers (which he found in a basket near the fireplace) and blowing on the wood. He took a hand full of the floo powder and put the pot back where he had found it. He threw in the powder and watched the flame turn bright green. The Other had told him that this would happen but it seeing it made him forget to breath for several moments. Checking one last time that he had put everything back where he had found it, he shouldered his rucksack and stepped into the emerald flames.

Trying to calm his racing heart, he closed his eyes and shouted "Diagon Ally!"

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace, tripping on his oversized trousers and landed hard on a dirty wooden floor. He looked up blinking, in the dim light. Hastily standing he brushed the ash off his clothes while surreptitiously looking around the pub. Two men were in black robes were sitting in a corner having lunch.

They glanced at him as he came out of the fireplace but were now talking to each other as if ten year old boys falling out of a lit fireplace was a normal occurrence. A woman was sitting at the bar talking to the toothless barman and sipping something in a small glass. She hadn't so much as glanced at Harry but the barman, when he caught Harry's eye, abandoned the glass he'd been cleaning and came over to him.

"Hello, m'name's Tom. How can I help you, young master?"

"Can you help me get to Diagon Ally?" He asked politely.

"Corse I can. Here for your Hogwarts supplies?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry followed Tom out into a small courtyard where the man took his wand out of his apron pocket and taped some bricks. Harry smiled as the brick withdrew to reveal a narrow cobbled street lined with shops. He thanked the barman and strode down the street, trying to act as if he'd been here before while simultaneously looking at all the things for sale and the oddly dressed people selling them. He made his way slowly to the north side of the Alley where there was a large while marble building.

_That's Gringott's. Impressive isn't it? _

Harry nodded, despite himself, and tried not to stare at the goblins standing at the open bronze doors. Inside, there was a long marble hall with many goblins sitting behind counters and innumerable doors lined the walls.

_Tell the goblin you would like to make a withdraw from vault 687. But be polite, goblins can get nasty_.

Harry felt a mixture distaste and anger from the Other.

"I didn't need you to tell me that…" he muttered, eyeing the nearest goblin warily.

He was tempted to ask more about the Others experience with goblins but now probably wasn't the time. Swallowing nervously, he made his way to one of the counters.

"Hello, I'm Harry Potter. I'd like to make a withdraw from vault 687," he forced a smile.

The goblin stared at him through narrow eyes first at his forehead (trying to look at his scar?) then at Harry's baggy clothes. He—Harry thought the goblin was a he—made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat.

"Do you have a key?" He asked finally.

"No, I don't,' Harry shifted his weight nervously. What if they wouldn't give him his money? Then he would be stuck here with no way to get back to the Dursley's—

"Then we will need a blood sample to prove you really are Harry Potter,"

The goblin took out a small dagger from somewhere and handed it to harry. He looked at it, not sure what to do with it. The goblin raised its knobby eyebrow at him. Harry flushed and pressed the blade cautiously against his finger. Blood welled up almost immediately; the dagger was very sharp. To his surprise the dagger appeared to be sucking up the blood from the small cut. Alarmed, he put it on the counter and sucked his finger. The goblin examined the dagger carefully, for what, Harry couldn't tell. It didn't look any different to him but the goblin seemed satisfied.

"Griphook!" He yelled. Another goblin came to stand beside the counter.

"Take Mr. Potter down to vault 687."

Griphook gave Harry the same look the goblin at the counter did. First he stared intently at his forehead, then critically at his clothes. After I get my money the first thing I'm going to buy is some proper clothes.

_What about a wand? I could show you some simple spells._

"Clothes first,"

"What?" Griphook looked at him as they climbed into a small cart that sat on rails.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. Griphook eyed Harry suspiciously but didn't say anything.

0-0-0-0-0

Harry emerged from Gringott's carrying more money in his rucksack than he had ever had in his life. Despite the Other's protests, he went into Madam Malkin's Robe's for all Occasions. He was greeted by a middle age witch who, after asking if he was going to Hogwart, took his measurements. He stood still while she put some robes on him and sized them while saying things like "left sleeve need to be hemmed," And "It's a bit long in the legs but you'll grow into it, dear."

"Madam Malkin?"

"Yes, dear?" She was wrapping his new robes in brown paper.

"Do you do trousers and shirts too? These are a little big," he gestured at his clothes.

"No we don't, sorry dear. But if you've got the gold, Twilfitt and Tatting's do excellent work."

"Thank you,"

He paid her and shoved his new robes in his rucksack. Twilfitt and Tatting's was a short walk from Madam Malkin's. The shop was noticeably nicer than Madam Malkin's with a marble floor that reminded harry of Gringott's. There was a cream colored chaise lounge in the corner next to a folding screen that had an image of bird flying against a blue sky. The strange thing was that the birds seemed to be moving and clouds drifted across the sky every so often.

"Can I help you?" a condescending voice asked from somewhere behind him.

Harry started and turned to see an older man with severely parted grey hair dressed in black robes with silver embroidery.

"Yes. I need some shirts and trousers please," the man's eyebrows rose.

"This is an exclusive store, young man. I daresay you cannot afford—"

"I can pay." Harry interrupted.

"So you say. I, _however_, will not waste my time—"

Harry responded by opening his rucksack and pulling out the bag of wizard money. The man stopped midsentence and his whole demeanor changed. He gave Harry an elegant bow and led him over to a chaise lounge.

"Please forgive me, young Master. I am Mr. Twilfitt. I am afraid I mistook you for some of the riffraff we sometime get. Please make yourself comfortable,"

Harry down on the chaise lounge while Mr. Twilfitt continued to talk.

"Do you know what kind of shirts you are looking for? I just got in an order of washed silk in a lovely purple—"

"I'm going to Hogwarts and I need a new wardrobe. I'll buy whatever you think I need,"

Mr. Twilfitt smiled so wide his teeth showed.

"What a young gentleman such as yourself needs…" he trailed of humming to himself then withdrew a measuring tape from his pocket and proceeded to measure his arms, legs, waist and shoulders. He then disappeared behind a door that Harry hadn't noticed because it was the same color as the wall. Ten minutes later Mr. Twilfitt emerged again holding what looked like a bundle of black cloth in his arms.

"Stand behind the screen and get out of" his voice darkened, "those garments."

Harry did as he was told somewhat surprised to find that the back of the screen contained a mirror. He stood, shivering slightly in his underwear, looking at his reflection. Mr. Twilfitt handed him a pair of black trousers, Harry gasped as they tightened to hug his waist. He supposed he'd never need to wear a belt again.

Harry then put on the shirt. It was black and soft. It had a collar and long sleeves with iridescent white buttons up the front. He looked at himself in the screen mirror, surprised. While he'd never really cared how he looked before he hadn't thought that wearing something that actually fit would make him look so good.

He stepped out from behind the screen. Mr. Twilfitt clapped and smiled. He circled Harry nodding to himself.

"Excellent, most excellent. I'll make you four more pairs of the black linen for everyday wear, under your robes and two white shirts for more formal occasions and …" he looked Harry up and down once again "How about a shirt in green silk, to match your eyes, the young ladies will love it. It's never too young to start looking for a good match, you know?"

Harry blushed, but nodded. He got the feeling the Other was laughing at him, though he hadn't said anything. He exited the shop wearing his new clothes. Mr. Twilfitt had said he would dispose of his old ones. He was gratfull for his new clothes but Harry didn't think he like Mr. Twilfitt much.

_Now can we get our wand? Or do you want do some more clothes shopping?_

The Other was broadcasting exasperation and annoyance.

"Yes, there no need to be rude about it,"

A witch standing next to Harry looked at him oddly. He ignored her and made his way to a shop that said Ollivander's.


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Humor