Chapter 3 - The Child Inside

Harry sat down on a tree stump to rest.

He had been walking for hours and still the only signs he had seen of any other living beings in this world where the birds, buzzing insects and butterflies that shared this forest with him.

Perhaps he shouldn't have entered the forest, instead he might have skirted around it in fear of becoming even more hopelessly lost. But something about the forest had called to him. The smell of the woods and the sound of the wind gently rustling the tree's leaves made him enter it before even thinking twice about it.

He frowned as he thought about this, wanting to brush it off to his Griffindorish tendencies but failing to do so. 'I don't usually barge into things without thinking about it first. Not unless lives are at stake.' Granted, considering this was him those times were actually pretty often. 'But that isn't the case now.'

He looked down at the seashell still in his hand, wondering why he had taken it with him, telling himself that he should just leave it. But a part of him refused to leave it behind. It was the same part that had made him wander into the forest because he liked the smell and feel of it, the same part that had picked some berries he had come across, instinctively knowing they were alright to eat. That part of him still clutched the seashell, feeling lost and alone in this world and wanting something, anything, real to hold on to.

There where other things he had noticed about himself too, the most annoying of these the childish urges that rose up in him everyone once in a while:

When spotting a particularly interestingly shaped tree he had felt the irrepressible urge to climb it for no real reason other than that it looked… fun. And climb it he had, with an agility, light-footedness and grace that had completely stunned him.

When a butterfly had cheerfully danced around him he had only barely managed to suppress the inane urge to giggle. Only to lose to that same urge later on when he had come across a small grassy clearing filled with pretty flowers of all colours. He giggled then, when he ran around amongst them, releasing from his throat such a tinkling, innocent, happy sound that he was taken aback by the fact that he was even capable of uttering it.

After a moment of pondering these changes, Harry stood up once more to continue his trek through the woods. 'These childish urges are probably a side effect from becoming a… child again. And the other changes probably have to do with these ancestors of mine and the bloodline that the voices spoke of.' he reasoned and started walking once more.

There was little he could do about what was going on. 'I just hope that I'll be able to get a hold on these childish urges soon.' If there is anything the (ex-?) wizard really hated it was feeling helpless, dependant and not in control.

During his time in the wizarding world he had often had the feeling of being a puppet, a symbol or some sort of weapon for others. He despised being used like that, but even worse than being the scapegoat or public saviour was not even being in control of his own body or being any more. And, although these childish urges and feelings were completely different from being harassed by the media or being held under the Imperious curse, they still frightened him badly.

It was getting dark and he still wasn't getting anywhere. At least, not that he could tell.

For as much as he had actually preferred being alone after the war ended; getting stranded, alone, in what was in all likelihood a different world and finding himself far away from anyone remotely human-like was perhaps a bit too much. 'And spending the whole day walking, occasionally playing and laughing, and having far too much time to think isn't really conductive to my sanity.'

Ah yes, and let's not forget the part where he had been changed in a childlike, not quite human, being. What had those voices called the people whose blood ran through his veins… the Eldar?

In any case, his abilities seemed to have drastically improved. He could see, hear and smell much better than before. His body was far more agile and he was actually surprised at how long he had been able to keep on walking. 'Considering I have the body of a child I had expected to tire out far sooner than I normally would.' As it was his stamina hadn't really decreased, or increased for that matter.

Even so, he couldn't keep going indefinitely. And although he could still see where he was going well enough despite the darkening sky, his exhaustion was catching up on him and he knew he had to find somewhere to sleep.

Seeing no form of shelter anywhere and having neither the knowledge nor energy to actually construct something he would have to settle for just lying down somewhere. In the end he let the instincts that came with his new body guide him to a mossy gap between the roots of a large tree. There he curled up and allowed sleep to overtake him.