Harry Potter stared out the cab window at the early morning streets of London.
People were rushing this way and that, hurrying to get home before the cold and rain encompassed the city. A light drizzle had already started to mist from the sky.
Harry smiled at his reflection in the window; he looked exactly like his father. He had tried to tame his unmanageable hair, but even after all these years, it still refused to behave. And turning thirty-seven next month, age had started to how a bit around the corners of his eyes.
The cab pulled to the curb, in front of a run-down funeral home.
Harry handed the driver a twenty-pound note, and told him to keep the change before exiting the cab.
The inside smelled of stale cologne and pungent flowers. The walls were plastered with a blue calico wall paper, and mismatched chairs were lined along the hallway walls.
The sanctuary was filled with people dressed in lacy black dresses, and Sunday suits.
Harry stepped forward and straightened his tie.
He approached the small table holding the visitor sigh-in sheet, and picking up a pen, he scrawled his name on a free gilded line.
A tacky gold picture frame, hanging above the sign-in table held a picture of an older man, around seventy, with a thick neck, and a bushy mustache. Small, beady eyes glared at its viewers, and his small mouth was twisted into a smirk. Large, loopy letters at the lower corner of the frame read: Vernon Dursley.
Harry hadn't seen, nor heard from his either his uncle or his aunt Petunia since his fourth year at Hogwarts. He'd heard that his over -weight cousin Dudley has attended Oxford, and become a lawyer.
He stared at the picture for a moment, and then backed away.
He spotted his aunt, sitting in an armchair, close to front of the sanctuary, wearing a slight frown. She kept glancing round the funeral home, almost as if she were looking for someone.
Aunt Marge sat in a chair beside Petunia; she was wearing a silky black gown with a huge lacey collar; she dabbed at her eyes from time to time with an enlarged red tissue.
Harry tried to stifle a laugh as he thought of his encounter with the woman.
"Harry?"
He turned, and found himself facing a man around his own age. The man was a bit large around the midsection, but not unhealthy looking. He has short-cut brownish hair, and shiny dark eyes, that held a hint of mischievousness.
A wave of realization swept over Harry. "Dudley?"
The man smiled. "Harry Potter. How have you been?"
Harry was still a bit flabbergasted by Dudley's appearance, but he finally found his voice. "Fine. You?"
Dudley smiled. "You look exactly the same."
Harry stared at Dudley for a moment. "You have changed quite a bit..." he replied. "For the better."
Dudley grinned again. "You know Harry, I'm sorry about... about before..."
Harry shrugged. "Nah. Forget about it. We were just kids." Deep down, Harry wondered if Dudley was still afraid of the "M" word.
Dudley stuck out his hand and Harry took it in a friendly shake. He smiled at Harry one last time, and then began to work his way back though the crowd towards his mother, as Harry eased out the door.
He didn't think that Petunia and Marge would appreciate him being there that much.
Harry hailed another cab, and muttered "Kings Cross Station, please," to the driver.
The cabbie nodded.
* * *
Harry stared at the barrier between platforms nine and ten; it seemed so long ago that he'd had to step through the barrier to board the Hogwarts express for years of learning, and now, here he was again.
This time, he wasn't going to Hogwarts as a student, but as a professor. A professor teaching the Prevention against the Dark Arts coarse.
He stepped trough the barrier, thinking of his old friend Lupin.
The red Hogwarts Express sat steaming on the tracks, just as Harry remembered it.
He started towards the train, loosening his tie. The Hogwarts robes would be so much more comfortable.
His trunk and owl, Hedwig were sitting beside a rear car door, where he'd instructed they were to be left.
Hedwig chirped happily when she saw Harry.
He stuck his fingers through her cage to stroke her soft, white feathers.
Harry now realized how much he had missed Hogwarts. The paintings, Dumbledore; he'd even go so far as to say that he Mrs. Morris.
He bent down to pick up his trunk when he heard his name again.
What Harry saw this time almost made him double over with laughter.
Professor Severus Snape was striding towards him, but instead of wearing his usual balck ribes, the potions master was sporting muggle clothes; a ragged pair of jeans, and a flowered shirt.
Snape stopped in front of Harry and gave him a hug.
Harry stiffened with surprise. "Hello, professor..." he said uncertainly.
Snape smiled. "Welcome to the Hogwarts staff!"
Harry smiled back. He couldn't resist a jibe at Snape's attire. "When did Dumbledore change the dress code?"
Snape reddened slightly. "Oh... um... er... vacation..." he replied.
Harry laughed. He knew that taking the position at Hogwarts was his best decision ever.
People were rushing this way and that, hurrying to get home before the cold and rain encompassed the city. A light drizzle had already started to mist from the sky.
Harry smiled at his reflection in the window; he looked exactly like his father. He had tried to tame his unmanageable hair, but even after all these years, it still refused to behave. And turning thirty-seven next month, age had started to how a bit around the corners of his eyes.
The cab pulled to the curb, in front of a run-down funeral home.
Harry handed the driver a twenty-pound note, and told him to keep the change before exiting the cab.
The inside smelled of stale cologne and pungent flowers. The walls were plastered with a blue calico wall paper, and mismatched chairs were lined along the hallway walls.
The sanctuary was filled with people dressed in lacy black dresses, and Sunday suits.
Harry stepped forward and straightened his tie.
He approached the small table holding the visitor sigh-in sheet, and picking up a pen, he scrawled his name on a free gilded line.
A tacky gold picture frame, hanging above the sign-in table held a picture of an older man, around seventy, with a thick neck, and a bushy mustache. Small, beady eyes glared at its viewers, and his small mouth was twisted into a smirk. Large, loopy letters at the lower corner of the frame read: Vernon Dursley.
Harry hadn't seen, nor heard from his either his uncle or his aunt Petunia since his fourth year at Hogwarts. He'd heard that his over -weight cousin Dudley has attended Oxford, and become a lawyer.
He stared at the picture for a moment, and then backed away.
He spotted his aunt, sitting in an armchair, close to front of the sanctuary, wearing a slight frown. She kept glancing round the funeral home, almost as if she were looking for someone.
Aunt Marge sat in a chair beside Petunia; she was wearing a silky black gown with a huge lacey collar; she dabbed at her eyes from time to time with an enlarged red tissue.
Harry tried to stifle a laugh as he thought of his encounter with the woman.
"Harry?"
He turned, and found himself facing a man around his own age. The man was a bit large around the midsection, but not unhealthy looking. He has short-cut brownish hair, and shiny dark eyes, that held a hint of mischievousness.
A wave of realization swept over Harry. "Dudley?"
The man smiled. "Harry Potter. How have you been?"
Harry was still a bit flabbergasted by Dudley's appearance, but he finally found his voice. "Fine. You?"
Dudley smiled. "You look exactly the same."
Harry stared at Dudley for a moment. "You have changed quite a bit..." he replied. "For the better."
Dudley grinned again. "You know Harry, I'm sorry about... about before..."
Harry shrugged. "Nah. Forget about it. We were just kids." Deep down, Harry wondered if Dudley was still afraid of the "M" word.
Dudley stuck out his hand and Harry took it in a friendly shake. He smiled at Harry one last time, and then began to work his way back though the crowd towards his mother, as Harry eased out the door.
He didn't think that Petunia and Marge would appreciate him being there that much.
Harry hailed another cab, and muttered "Kings Cross Station, please," to the driver.
The cabbie nodded.
* * *
Harry stared at the barrier between platforms nine and ten; it seemed so long ago that he'd had to step through the barrier to board the Hogwarts express for years of learning, and now, here he was again.
This time, he wasn't going to Hogwarts as a student, but as a professor. A professor teaching the Prevention against the Dark Arts coarse.
He stepped trough the barrier, thinking of his old friend Lupin.
The red Hogwarts Express sat steaming on the tracks, just as Harry remembered it.
He started towards the train, loosening his tie. The Hogwarts robes would be so much more comfortable.
His trunk and owl, Hedwig were sitting beside a rear car door, where he'd instructed they were to be left.
Hedwig chirped happily when she saw Harry.
He stuck his fingers through her cage to stroke her soft, white feathers.
Harry now realized how much he had missed Hogwarts. The paintings, Dumbledore; he'd even go so far as to say that he Mrs. Morris.
He bent down to pick up his trunk when he heard his name again.
What Harry saw this time almost made him double over with laughter.
Professor Severus Snape was striding towards him, but instead of wearing his usual balck ribes, the potions master was sporting muggle clothes; a ragged pair of jeans, and a flowered shirt.
Snape stopped in front of Harry and gave him a hug.
Harry stiffened with surprise. "Hello, professor..." he said uncertainly.
Snape smiled. "Welcome to the Hogwarts staff!"
Harry smiled back. He couldn't resist a jibe at Snape's attire. "When did Dumbledore change the dress code?"
Snape reddened slightly. "Oh... um... er... vacation..." he replied.
Harry laughed. He knew that taking the position at Hogwarts was his best decision ever.
