The Years We Were Alive: Year 1

Explosion

March 7, 1972

"Are you Lizzie?" a Ravenclaw boy sat down next to Lizzie in the library. She wasn't there to study, but to read. She was reading Lord of the Flies this time. She found muggle literature just better. Maybe it was because they were the type of books, she had been borrowing from the library her whole life, but she just thought they were better.

The way muggles wrote was practical, and what she had always known. The wizards' books were always those of the fantastical. Lizzie loved magic, and she loved that she was immersed in that world, but she liked her books that didn't focus on magic.

"Yeah," she smiled at him. He looked like he was either her age or a second year, "who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Daniel Fieldweather, I see you studying here all the time and I wondered if I could sit with you,"

"Yeah, of course," she moved her book bag from the top of the table to the floor next to her. She put her nose back into her book once that exchange had taken place.

"So, you're American right?" the boy's voice was shaky.

"Yeah, I am," she kept her eyes on her book. It was getting interesting.

"What was that like? How are wizards in America?"

"It was a lot different," she put her book down, after dog-earing her page, "and I'm muggle-born, so I don't know what American wizards are like,"

"I've never met an American before,"

"You and everyone else here," Lizzie chuckled.

"This week, do you want to study for potions?" the boy asked her.

"You're not in my potions class, are you?" she was sure that she didn't have potions with the Ravenclaws.

"No," the boy paused, "But it's all the same content,"

"Yeah, sure, what day?"

"Tuesday?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds great," she nodded, "I'll meet you here after dinner,"

"Yeah, perfect," the boy nodded and then went silent. Lizzie could feel the thick awkwardness in the air. Neither of them wanted to say anything, instead preferring to struggle to breathe through the air.

"Are you a first-year too then?"

"Yeah, I am,"

"Where are you from?" Lizzie wanted anything but to exist in the cloud of awkwardness that was consuming them.

"I'm from London," he shrugged, "Not as exciting as America,"

"I mean, it's exciting to me, I've only been to London a couple of times now, and that's only to get to the train,"

"I guess so, yeah, but America," he shook his head and smiled, "It just seems so cool,"

"You must not know a lot about it then,"

"I guess not," he shrugged, "All I know is really about the wizards, but that's not even a lot. There's a school there, called Ilvermorny,"

"Oh Merlin, that's worse than a school called Hogwarts!"

"Did you know there was a school there?"