Harry Potter crouched in the sand box at preschool, carefully decorating his lumpy sandcastle with twigs and leaves. The children around him giggled as they swung on the monkey bars and flew down the slides side by side. But Harry sat by himself, the kid with the strange boo-boo on his forehead, the kid who's scary aunt was always examining the children as if under a microscope at pick-up and commenting on their dribbly noses.
On the other side of the playground sat a young Voldemort, already responsible for killing Harry's parents. His red eyes gleamed as he crouched under a tree, torturing an ant. Unlike Harry, Voldemort purposefully kept all the other children away from him. He liked to keep them thinking he was in charge. (It was also just fun to look up and snarl at anyone who got too close to him. That always sent them fleeing!) But still, being by himself could get quite boring.
Voldemort got up and started waddling towards Harry. As soon as he reached the wood chips around the play structure, all the children froze and receded to the edges of the playground, giving him a clear path straight to his target. As he approached the sandbox, Harry didn't even look up. He hadn't noticed him. Voldemort swung his leg out and smashed the castle, spraying sand in the face of his enemy.
Harry jumped and let out a small fart out of surprise. Voldemort heard, of course, and yelled, "Potter pooped! Potter pooped!" He laughed, and the other children laughed hesitantly, unsure of what would provoke the red-eyed child.
"Potter pooped! Poopy Potter! Poopy Potter!" sang Voldemort.
The other kids laughed loudly now.
"Potter pooped!" Voldemort laughed. "I can smell it!"
Harry looked up at him, unfazed. He blinked. "But you don't have a nose!"
Burn.
Thanks for reading! Please comment, and no flaming. I know it's inaccurate, but it's AU! Anything can happen!
