Despite the panic starting to encroach upon him from the rest of the system, Tom took a moment to stop, look around, and think.

He'd never been in this section of the dungeons before. It looked quite old, and the musty smell that lingered made him crinkle his nose. There was only one path, and that led straight down, with not a single variation to the left or right. Well. He shrugged. Might as well keep going. They certainly couldn't go backward, that was well and truly closed off. He'd even attempted a revealing spell, only to have it thrown painfully back into his face.

The air was remarkably warm in this corridor, in stark contrast to the usual dungeon chill. If it weren't for the fact there were no windows down the overly bright hall, Tom would have assumed they were on another floor. Not a sound could be heard but the slightly gritting tone of their footsteps.

Where are we? Raven whispered inside, but Tom had no answers for her. Even with part of Voldemort's memory tucked away in his head, he couldn't recall this place at all. It was like they'd been transported to another world, so jarring was the disparity.

Finally, they came to the end, where a very large, embroidered tapestry hung on the wall. Tom examined it in mute fascination. Salazar Slytherin was embroidered there, petting the head of an enormous snake. Lamplight-golden eyes gleamed out at him, and he realised the snake was a basilisk. Slytherin's familiar had been a basilisk? he thought in shock and felt an answering sort of echo from his Voldy memories.

"Beautiful," he hissed aloud in appreciation, and had the enormous and slightly unpleasant shock of watching the basilisk's head swing round in the tapestry, Salazar's profile following.

"You are a Speaker?" he heard an older man's voice slip into his mind.

"I suppose," he answered guardedly. "How is this possible? You're not even a painting!"

Serpentine laughter echoed in his head, and he saw the man's embroidered features twist into a smirking smile.

"Old secrets, Speaker," Salazar finally answered. "You are a Slytherin, I take it?"

"I am," Tom nodded, feeling uncomfortably jostled as everyone but Harry tried to take a look at this new phenomenon. He swayed slightly on his feet, more than a bit dizzy and reminded that they really shouldn't be out of the Hospital Wing just yet. He was about to ask where they were when Salazar unwittingly answered it for him.

"How have you found my rooms?" Salazar asked, confusion creasing the threads of his brow.

"Your rooms? This is a bloody hallway," Tom pointed out, frustration creeping in. "And I have no idea. I got lost."

"Interesting," Salazar mused. The basilisk undulated beside him, her eyes somehow firmly shut so as not to harm the young Speaker before them. "That...should not have been possible."

"Well, I guess we-I'm just really good at achieving the impossible," Tom smirked.

"We?"

Tom sighed. Of course the bloody Founder of Slytherin House would pick up on his slip.

"It's not just me in here," he explained shortly. "I'm not sure what it's called-if it's even got a name! But I'm not the...first person in this body. That would be Harry. I'm Tom. There are a load of other people in here as well. The Dur-the people we live with hurt us. A lot. So we...split, I guess you could call it. To handle it. No one knows because let's face it, we're already weird, I'd rather not get locked up for being insane."

To his surprise, Salazar had begun chuckling.

"You aren't the only one...Tom, was it? No, you aren't the only one," Salazar said, smiling fondly at him.

"I-what?" Tom asked stupidly, feeling his legs wobble like they might give out at any moment.

"I can't recall what it's actually called off the top of my head, but it's an actual disorder, known in my day," Salazar nodded. "Not a common thing, but eminently treatable. Well, as long as one is removed from the harmful situation. Have you been?"

"Well...no," Tom admitted. "They know now, though. A bit. Bloody rude about it, too." He scowled at the memory of Pomfrey's accusations, of Snape legilimizing them without their consent.

"What do you mean?" Salazar prodded gently, and the story came pouring out, about their unintentional hospital stay, about how Tom had let the concealments lapse while unconscious, about Snape prying into their mind.

"That was unconscionable of him," Salazar agreed, stroking his chin and actually looking quite angry, even if in a cold sort of way. "You are a student in his care, and as such, there are rules he must follow."

"Thank you," Tom sighed in relief. "It's just, you know, it's hard enough trying to tell someone anything without someone trying to have a bloody great peek in our head!"

"Indeed," Salazar said before looking rather distracted. "Hmm. Others tell me that people are looking for you and becoming rather worried. I believe it is time for you to return to your dormitory."

"I would if I knew how," Tom retorted dryly. Salazar merely looked amused.

"Go back the way you came, turn around once counter-clockwise, and walk forward without opening your eyes," the man directed. "That should take you within a corridor or two. I believe you can find your way from there, Tom."

"Thank you," Tom said, making a short bow of respect toward the man, who could not conceal the delight in his carefully sewn eyes.

Following the Founder's directions, Tom soon found himself back in the dank chill of the dungeons, only a hall away from his dorm. He grinned and began to make his way forward, only to be stopped in his tracks by a toweringly angry Head of House.

"It's been six hours, where have you been?" Severus Snape demanded and Tom froze. For once, he had no answer at all.