When We Were Young

C H A P T E R E L E V E N

September 1st, 1943

Harry was wandering around Hogwarts, his eyes glazed over as he only paid attention to his churning thoughts.

Despite only arriving at Hogwarts that day, it seemed that Harry instinctively knew where everything was, what shortcuts to take, which staircases to avoid, etc. He was pleasantly surprised that he knew his way around without his past/future memories of Hogwarts (but seriously, the author is having a difficult time figuring out whether to call Harry's 1st life his future or past).

Minutes before, Tom had finished reading him the short short of the Deathly Hallows and had bade Harry goodnight, figuring that the younger boy needed some space.

Tom had worried that he overstepped when he kissed Harry. While Harry didn't pull away from him, he hadn't seemed all there either when he finished the story. Tom was quite worried that Harry would be angry, and seeing Harry angry. . . Yikes.

Harry didn't explode or yell, in fact, he was quiet. When Harry was mad- truly upset-, it seemed that he just shut off, his magic no longer stirring around him, but turned stock still, like a frozen lake. It was like he was carved of ice, his movements jerky and sharp, his expression cold and blank; and even more frightening, his eyes seemed to throw ice daggers straight into your soul, penetrating and absolutely terrifying.

It was such a complete switch from his normal warm and teasing (sometimes sarcastic) personality, that it threw Tom off edge when he first saw Harry get mad- and Harry's anger wasn't even directed at him.

Harry's anger was directed on a couple of 14-year-olds who decided to bully on some 6-year-old. What kind of teenager bullied a kid?

The teens had taken one look at Harry, then they ran, not liking the way their bones chilled as soon as they meet eyes with the 8-year-old.

But, Harry wasn't angry, at the moment. He was confused and embarrassed. Honestly, he felt that Tom had overstepped. He wasn't ready for whatever else that kiss would bring. He was 11 for Death's sake! He was way too young for this type of- of. . . Well, whatever Tom wanted!

Harry let out a loud "oof" when his body collided with a much bigger one. Harry squeaked out an apology and rushed to take a step back, his face cherry red when he realized that his face had been practically squished into the breasts of whoever he bumped into.

Harry looked down at his shoes, fidgeting nervously as the girl started laughing. It was only when she introduced herself did he have the courage to look up.

"Don't worry about it! My name is Eliza Prewitt. What's yours, cutie?"

By then, Harry knew that his face was as red as Eliza's hair. He was surprised that Eliza was being so kind to him, considering that Slytherins had a bad reputation for being evil, but he knew that Hufflepuffs were well known for their generosity and figured that was why she was in the black and yellow house.

"Harrison Perverell, nice to meet you, Miss Prewitt," Harry said, managing to shove his embarrassment away. Harry then gave his signature sugary-sweet smile full of sunshine and joy, the very one that made the unsuspecting Eliza starstruck.

"Well aren't you just adorable! Oh, you poor thing! You're much too skinny! I must take you to the kitchens!!"

Harry let out a small yelp when Eliza picked him up and started to run, faintly hearing the older girl mumble to herself as she sprinted.

Had Harry broken Eliza? Had his smile made her malfunction? Harry grew worried for the girl's mental state and promised himself that he would tone down his smile when around her.