When We Were Young

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R

September 1st, 1944

Walburga Black huffed as she walked into the Slytherin common room, two books under her arm.

"I can't believe that I'm being ordered around by a filthy half-blood!" She hissed as she past her group of friends, her minions snickering at her childish whining.

"Here you are, half-blood," Walburga cooed, dropping the books into Harry's lap. Her words were laced with a sickening sweetness, her eyes mocking and hard, as if she felt she were superior to someone like Harry.

Perhaps it's because she felt that because she was a 7th year, she had the right go make little, annoying remarks now that the Slytherins were finally settled under Tom's reign. (No one had tested the waters in Tom's first year as King because they had no idea how the boy functioned.)

Something in Harry seemed to snap at those four words. All the irritation and anger he hid and stored behind his masks was finally let out.

His magic, usually a cold, soft, winter breeze, turned into a harsh, furious blizzard, everyone in the common room freezing in place as his icy magic was unleashed upon them.

Harry stared at Walburga as she started to whimper, blue tinting the tips of her fingers and the tip of her nose, his magic attacking her body. He stared at her with such cold nonchalance, sitting calmly on one of the couches, that a shiver ranked down everyone's spin.

Never had they seen Harry this way before. They always saw this happy, charming, beautiful boy that made friends with only the curve of his lips.

In that moment, they were all reminded that that was a mask that Harry put on everyday for the world to see. They had forgotten that Harry was a different person underneath his honeyed smiles and glistening eyes. They forgot that Harry could get irritated and feed up with people. They forgot that Harry was a complex human being, not a one-dimensional stick figure.

For someone to fool them all so easily astounded them, but they were taught an even more important lesson.

They knew their King very well. While Tom did give fake smiles and charming words to others, he never attempted to hide himself away from he world. They all saw how he would treat anyone other than his inner circle with impatience. They all knew that Tom didn't like to waste his time on the people he deemed as unworthy. They all saw that Tom favored and took care of Harry.

Tom was an unpredictable open book, but Harry was an entirely different story.

Harry hid everything but the image he presented, and he did it so well that they all forgot that he was anything other that. But, now that his mask was cast aside, they saw the cruel streak he had been hiding. They saw the unforgiving darkness that they swelled within his soul.

The lesson they learnt was that Harry was even more dangerous than their King, and that was a big statement.

Walburga started to sob, her muscles stiffening and the blue of her fingertips slowly growing.

"If I here one more person make one more derogatory remark against those who aren't a pureblood," Harry started, his voice cold, and despite being quiet, swept across the room, "I just might turn you into an icicle. Do you all understand?"

Everyone nodded, wincing as Walburga let out another shrill wail of pain and fear.

"Good," Harry drawled, rising from his seat and grabbing the books Walburga delivered to him. He turned around to walk to his dorm when he suddenly looked back at the girl he had given hypothermia to. "And for your information, Walburga, I'm a pureblood, but that really shouldn't matter."