Draco froze.
He didn't know how it happened but all of a sudden he was sitting at the family's dinner table.
He could hear his father's voice and his mother's. They were speaking.
"Draco, darling, what's wrong? Why have you stopped eating?"
His mother looked younger and healthier than he remembered. She had much less wrinkles on her beautiful, aristocratic face. It didn't look like she was being weighed down by emotional stress caused by the Dark Lord. He had forgotten she could look this way. She looked peaceful and relaxed. How could this be!?
And what was his father doing here!? He also looked much younger than he remembered. He looked at peace as well. His eyes weren't dark or filled with worries that he wasn't supposed to allow anyone else to see. He didn't look guarded in the least.
"What is the matter, son?" His father's eyes gazed at him. They weren't cold, just inquisitive with a hint of concern.
What was going on?
Did he die?
Did the strange light end his life?
"I..." He froze. What was wrong with his voice? It sounded much higher than he remembered it being. He sounded like a girl! This was an outrage. He looked down and realized that his hands were smaller than he remembered as well. Actually, all of him just looked smaller... and he seemed to be closer to the ground.
"...Draco?" His mother repeated his name. She sounded very concern.
xxx
"You fainted." Were the words he heard in his father's voice when he awoke.
"O-oh." Draco responded, not eloquently in the least.
"Stuttering is unacceptable," admonished his father. "Pause before responding in order to speak clearly."
He was in his room and on his bed. His father was sitting on the green armchair next to his bed.
"Nervous before the night you'll begin going to Hogwarts?" his father asked.
Draco didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what was going on.
"There is nothing to fear. Crabbe and Goyle's children will be there with you."
"Father..." He managed to say. "I... I just need to sleep."
"Very well," said his father, "Your mother was very concerned but I convinced her to go to bed. I'll leave you to your rest."
His father got up from the armchair and walked towards the door. He paused and turned to look at him, "Know that we'll see you again during the holidays. There is nothing to fear. Good night, son."
Was his father comforting him!?
"Thank you, father." Draco responded with wide eyes.
His father nodded his head as he turned to leave and close the door behind him.
He was now alone.
'I mustn't panic,' he tried to tell himself calmly. It wasn't working.
What's going on? He really didn't know but apparently, he was back on the day before Hogwarts started. That meant he was 11 years old.
He didn't know how to answer the question of what he should do.
He was just frozen.
But he also wondered... could it be real? Could he really be in the past?
Well, he really didn't know what to do or what to think.
He was freaked out, that was for sure. Mostly, he didn't know how to feel or even what he was feeling. Shock, yes. Fear, yes. A lot of other feelings jumbled together? Definitely.
He decided to go back to sleep. He'll try to figure everything else out when he woke up once more.
And if it was real... he'll make some plans... and panic later.