Ablaze

10

It felt like I was experiencing an out-of-body experience. I didn't feel the overwhelming sensations I had in Harry's room and everything leading up to it.

The edges of the scene were blurred, faintly distorting everything with a soft hue of golden light. It was still easily intelligible, allowing me to watch it from afar.

It was tranquil as I sat perched on the bay window in the library I had witnessed in my dream. Except for this time, there was no inferno or suffering. Everything appeared entirely normal, how it was supposed to.

I quietly observed the mundane scene with fascination, tucking my knees up to my chest.

A child version of myself sat in the center of the home library. It was all identical to my dream, and as I watched myself, I recognized we were a similar age to it as well.

My younger self was splayed out on a makeshift bean bag encircled by mounds of books. My hair was styled in two plaits, straining to contain the unruly tresses. I was adorned in casual clothing, a pair of overalls, and a random t-shirt that was now disheveled from the day's events.

She darted to where Harry was, a broad grin on her face. I was obviously missing some of my baby teeth, the gaps making the expression even more endearing.

"Harry! Harry! Can you read this one to me? It has my name!" I was overly excited as I beckoned for him, demanding his presence.

Harry was intently inspecting one of the bookshelves, his back to both versions of me. Still, he gave up on his search as soon as I uttered his name. He ambled over, automatically obeying my whiny pleads.

Harry was dressed in what looked like a school uniform. It seemed like I had come to see him as soon as he was finished school, craving his company. His hair was a tangle of ringlets, rosy cheeks painted with freckles, and a smear of what appeared to be chocolate on his jaw.

I was struck by the peculiarity as I witnessed the evident age gap between us. I was definitely old enough to have been reading by that point. I wasn't sure how a pre-adolescent boy could find a common interest with a young girl, albeit one that seemed annoying.

The unshakable exhilaration radiated from me as Harry seized the book out of her hands, swiftly skimming its contents. The glance he gave me was adoring, practically idolizing the girl before him. The innocent exchange of idolization between Harry and my younger self forced my throat to tighten.

There was nothing problematic in the companionship. It was transparent that it was built purely from mutual admiration. We were children and behaved like them, but the friendship itself was bizarre, especially in the Above Ground.

This was definitely before the Revolt. Given our ages, it was unmistakable. It was also the noticeable lack of uncertainty and hostility that now hung in the Above Ground air. It now clung to people like a parasite, encouraging them with sweet nothings in their ears, compelling them to enact their wildest monstrosities.

Young Harry began reading aloud, his voice much more delicate than the one he had now.

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

"Is the book written for me?" The question only a child could think of, yet I questioned with conviction.

I chuckled softly from where I sat on the bench before slapping my hand over my mouth. I was fleetingly afraid that they would somehow be able to hear me but was pleasantly surprised by the lack of acknowledgment. Aware that I was an invisible intruder, I allowed myself to laugh at the arrogance my younger self exuded. It was a vanity that could only come from a child who had no context that there was a world outside them.