Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Friendship

He wasn't Voldemort, not yet, at least. The possibility of hope was there, and Harry would have to try for it; his hero complex nagged at him to.

"Hi, my name's Harry Evans. What's yours?"

Tom stayed silent, not acknowledging the other and hoping that his point was being driven across. He didn't like the other children here; they were all cruel. He despised this place with a passion and didn't want any unnecessary ties to the orphanage that might bring happy memories if he ever thought back on it in the future. How else would he be able to burn it down without feeling any qualms?

Harry tried again, a little louder, "Hi, my name's–"

"I heard you the first time, no need to shout," Tom grumblingly interrupted.

"Then why didn't you answer?" Harry asked.

"I didn't want to waste my time with silly things like introductions," Tom grumbled.

"But you're doing it now," Harry snidely pointed out, not liking Tom's attitude at all. Why couldn't he act like a cute child for once?

Outraged at himself for being dragged into a conversation, no matter how small, Tom clamped his lips shut again, only opening them to hastily shove food into his mouth.

"It's not like you have any friends anyway. Maybe if you didn't act so pompous, more people would like you," Harry retorted.

"How would you know if I have friends or not? You're new here; you know nothing," Tom hisses haughty as he grips his fork tightly.

"It's obvious you have no friends, or you wouldn't be sitting here, alone, with me," Harry pointed out.

"Maybe if you weren't an insignificant worm–an unwanted speck on society–then your parents might have actually wanted you instead of leaving you in this godforsaken hellhole," Tom sneered back.

Having had enough of Tom's jerkish attitude, Harry scooped up all his noodles onto his fork and flung them into the other boy's face, making contact with a very wet splat. He couldn't stop himself from laughing as Tom spazzed out and frantically clutched at the dripping pasta. Harry's sides began to hurt and as he tried to clutch at them, his own face was bombarded with spaghetti. Since his mouth was open, a fair number of the noodles made there way inside and he choked on them. He stuck a finger down his throat and hooked it around a larger glob of the food, pulling it out as Tom smirked evilly from his seat.

That'll teach him to mess with me.

"BOYS!"

Tom's smirk melted away and was replaced with a look of cool indifference as Mrs. Cole came storming over to their table. Harry was still hacking up his dinner, but could tell, even without seeing her, that he was in a great deal of trouble.

"Come with me, at once!" Mrs. Cole marched Harry and Tom out of a silent cafeteria and through the first floor of Wool's and into her office. "Sit," she trilled at them and they simultaneously fell into the two chairs provided as Mrs. Cole angrily paced behind her chair.

"Mr. Evans, this is your first day here–no, you haven't even been here half a day and yet you managed to find yourself in trouble. And you, Tom," Mrs. Cole's face was turning an ugly shade of purple as it twisted in disgusted outrage, "you should know better. You were born here, your mother–you should know the rules. No fighting with other children EVER!" Mrs. Cole slammed her hand down on the desk to emphasize her point. "The number of times you've been in my office–your folder is the thickest one, Tom, and every time it's the same story. Fighting. Well, no more! I've had it with your misconduct! This is your last warning, Tom. One more thing from you and I'll throw you in the broom closet for the day, I don't know what else to do with you, do I make myself clear?"