A Chance Meeting
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Jane Duncan sat in the café, sipping the hot coffee as she flipped through her papers. It was yet another round of seeing who forgot to do their assignment and scribbled a quick essay in hopes of at least scrapping a C.
She sighed. These days the kids seemed to have no appreciate for the wonderful flow of the English language printed on paper or spoken to one another. These days, all the kids seemed to want to do was party and text each other.
Really! Even texting seemed to degrade English.
It was such as sad thing really, Jane thought to herself grimly. She picked up another paper and skimmed through it before setting it aside and laying back into the chair.
The soft chatter in the background seemed to ease her tension. She'd always loved this café – it was the one in which she came to after a hard day at work, teaching.
Of course she loved children. Who said she didn't? However, some days she wished she didn't teach because of the essays like…
She paused and stared at the one in front of her.
One of the things john Steinbeck does in the grapes of wrath is that he describes the scenary during the Great dust bowl. The grapes of Wrath details on this person, joad, and his journey to find his parents…
Jane fought an urge to throw something – she would be thought too old to do so. Did this person even read the book much less check for the mechanics?
She shook her head and laid the paper back down, gathering herself before reading the rest of the paper.
"Mrs. Duncan?" a surprised male voice gasped.
Jane looked up and squinted at the male standing in front of her through her thick rimmed glasses.
"It's me, Harry Potter, remember?" the male continued. He stood at the side of the booth and Jane continued to stare at him until she remembered back when she still taught primary school… The boy who wrote about the flying motorcycle…
"Ah yes! Mr. Potter! Sit down, sit!" she gestured to the empty seat in front of her. As he moved to sit, she studied him and found that he had changed a lot.
In nearly seven years, he had changed into a man.
"It's been a while, Mr. Potter," Jane said. Her crooked teeth showed through her crooked smile, "almost—"
"—seven years. Yeah, I realize," he interrupted, but seemed to realize that had done so and that it would have been rude, "sorry." He rubbed his forehead, bashful.
"No need to be sorry! I'm surprise you still remember though," Jane continued, reaching to pile her papers together.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry reaching to help.
"Well, I can't forget my favorite teacher, can I?" he answered, smiling wryly.
Jane let out a bark-like laugh, soon stifled into giggles. "My dear, since when did you become such a flattering boy?"
Harry grinned even wider – though it seemed strain. "Since I went to Secondary, I guess."
"What did they teach you? How to charm ladies?" Jane teased. She slapped Harry's hand away from her papers gently, "No, no, let me do that."
"In a way I suppose," Harry replied, glanced at the now-neat pile of papers, "Are you still teaching Year Five at Primary?"
Jane smiled, remembering all those little children running around the playground, screaming, and found that she did not miss it. "No, I teach Secondary Year Four now," she looked up at the male, "I haven't heard from you. Where do you go?"
Harry stammered, "U-Uh, j-just a boarding school up north," he replied. Changing the subject, he said, "How's Secondary for you?"
Jane didn't question his nervousness. Back when he was ten, he would stutter, blush and stutter some more when asked directly a question. The only time she found he did not stutter or blush was when they spoke about the flying motorcycle. Even back then, she found he had quite the imagination.
"It's a lot better," she confessed, "there's peace and quiet and I can read a good book whenever I send off my students on an assignment…" she trailed off, watching as Harry chuckle. She had the tiniest inkling that that had reminded Harry of something.
"Well Mr. Potter, are you not nearly seventeen? Do you have any plans for a future?" Jane continued the game of "ask-and-answer".
It could have been the trick of the light but Jane could have sworn she saw Harry's brilliant green eyes darkened. She quickly brushed that away when he smiled and answered.
"Law enforcement," he replied with certainty, "or something like that…" He rubbed his forehead again, Jane noticed.
Jane remembered back when she still taught him, the scar on his forehead always seemed to stick out at him. The shape of the lightning bolt stared back at her and though she was always itching to ask how he had gotten it, she never came around to it. Besides, she had thought to herself the night Harry graduated from her class, it seemed too personal.
But now… Would it seem too personal to ask this quiet Thursday evening?
"Mrs. Duncan?"
Jane jerked out of her thoughts and stared across the table. "Ah! Dear me, I'm afraid my age is catching up to me," she joked, seeing the mess she had made with her spilled coffee.
She reached for a few napkins but Harry stopped her. "Here, let me," he said. With ease – was it because of his youth? – he wiped the table once, twice and as if by magic, the table was dried once more.
"Thank you, dear," she said, relaxing back into her seat.
Harry smiled in return – Jane noticed he seemed to be smiling more these days. Even back at nine or ten, Harry never seemed to smile. If he did, it was painfully shy, small and seen for a mere glimpse before reverting into that old façade, the old mask.
"Well Mrs. Duncan, I have to say it was nice seeing you here," he got up, getting ready to go, "I do have to get going."
Jane smiled. "Of course dear, kids these days seem to always be going off somewhere. It was nice seeing you Harry and I confess – it was always such a great joy to read your essays. They always were creative," she replied.
A smallest tint of pink spread across his cheeks as he stared back, a painfully shy smile on his face.
In the briefest moments, Jane remembered that ten-year-old boy entering her classroom for the first time without speaking a word. She remembered him, expressionless and always sad. She remembered him smiling that painfully shy smile when she complimented on his essays, his papers, his stories, his doodles on his papers. She remembered the boy who entered her classroom at the beginning of the school year who decided to become a painter at the end of the year.
Vaguely, she wondered what happened to that ten-year-old painter. She wondered how that ten-year-old painter became a sixteen-year-old crime investigator.
"Thank you Mrs. Duncan," he thanked, "bye."
"Bye Mr. Potter," she answered, watching him leave the café. She watched him pause at the doorway and turn to her as if he wanted to say something more but turned back and continued to leave.
"Good-bye Harry Potter."
Her once hot coffee was now cold. With a jolt, Jane Duncan realized she never got to ask about his scar.
Outside, Harry Potter threw on his Invisibility Cloak and vanished, ready to begin the hunt for the Horcruxes.
Author's Note: I once read a fic where Harry met one of his old teachers in a café. Hermione and Ron were there with him, too. Otherwise, I don't remember the rest. However, I really did like that fic and I wanted to read another where Harry meets an old teacher or something. Sadly, I can't seem to find them anywhere. So I thought I would write one. This is similar to the one I mentioned. If anyone knows the title or who it is by, would you mind directing me towards it?
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