Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.
Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?
Author's note: Sorry that it is such a sort chapter, and a bit...mundane. But, trust me, I have some real action coming up. In fact, I've mapped it out pretty completely for chapters seven through ten. And because I am feeling so bad for this short chapter, I'll give you a quick glimpse of what will happen soon: we get to travel halfway across the world to see what's happening meanwhile at Hogwarts, Harry remembers a friendship, we find out where those annoying pills came from (chapter 8, I promise!), and-- (okay, I don't want to spoil it so I'll just tell you this: it's big...).
P.s. I was going for a "normal day" for Harry in this chapter. And we see the beginnings of a bigger conflict for Ginny... Crap! I've said too much! Forget what you just read! 0)
Chapter 6: French Toast and School Days
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"Good morning!"
Hermione woke with a start. Mrs. Bollis' face was very close to Hermione's, and the lady was smiling from ear to ear.
"I made fresh French toast! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Uh, sure," said Hermione shakily, "Um, what time is it?"
"Ten o'clock! Your dear husband is already downstairs. My my, weren't we sleepy today? Good thing I woke you up before all the breakfast was gone!"
"Thanks..." said Hermione, wishing that she could go straight back to sleep.
"Come on come on! Up up up! Rise and shine! Better get changed so we can go downstairs and some delicious French toast. Come on!"
Mrs. Bollis seemed overly excited about breakfast. Hermione just sat on the bed and stared and the very happy person.
"Well?" said Mrs. Bollis, calming down. She had her hands on her knees and was inches away from Hermione. "Well? Aren't you going to get changed?"
"Uh, sure," said Hermione.
"Good!" exclaimed Mrs. Bollis. "I'll just be downstairs!" And she swiftly walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long day. At least she and Ron planed to leave for England soon.
She suddenly remembered about scanning for Harry, and Hermione jumped out of bed and grabbed her Magic Detector cube.
After opening it and staring at the board for a good ten minutes, she frowned and put it away. Where can he be? she thought to herself angrily.
She slowly got dressed and went downstairs.
The table was piled high with French toast and bottles of syrup.
"Ginny and Daniel went out for a walk, so it's just us chickens here now," said Mr. Bollis. Hermione groaned inwardly. "Us chickens" were Ron and herself, plus Mr. and Mrs. Bollis. Hermione sat down and severed herself some French toast.
"Good morning," said Ron, kissing her on the cheek.
"Morning," answered Hermione.
"So, how did you sleep?" asked Mr. Bollis.
"Well enough, thank you."
"We were just discussing Ron's new promotion. A job well done, I say."
Ron was an Auror. He was going to get a job in the Ministry, like his father, but was pulled towards his current occupation partly because of the war, and partly because Harry was obviously going into it, and so he and Hermione had wanted to support and protect Harry, and they too became Aurors. The job sort of grew on Ron, and he came to enjoy his work after the war was over. He liked to search for people and clues, track down criminals, and be one of the more powerful and respected members of society.
Hermione had been an Auror, but quit after the war, partly because she never liked the job, partly because the war was over and Harry gone so she had no incentive, and partly because it brought back memories of how she had been the one who failed as an Auror, who put Harry in danger, who caused Harry the pain. It had been she who insisted that Ron and herself should not follow Harry's instructions, but to go where she thought they should go.
Now she was a teacher at Hogwarts (Big surprise there, she thought to herself) and, miracles of miracles, she was one of the two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. Remus Lupin was the other DADA teacher. He and Hermione started teaching at the same time, as each one had convinced the other to teach, and had been there for about eight years. Hermione thought it was hilarious that they had been teaching DADA for eight years without a major glitch. She taught the first and second years, and Lupin taught the rest. That was arranged mostly because the school thought it would be safer for Lupin to teach the more mature students "due to his condition," as they put it.
"More French toast, dear?" asked Mrs. Bollis.
"Well uh," Hermione had already had her fill of French toast, but to be polite (Well, there is a lot left...) she answered, "Sure, why not."
Mrs. Bollis heaped several pieces onto Hermione's plate.
"Uh, thanks."
"Any time, dearie."
A little later, Ron and Hermione headed up to their room to get ready for a walk they would take to see the city.
"Do we have to go for a walk now?" asked Hermione, "I'm so full I could burst."
Ron tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't contain it and fell into a fit of laughter.
"You should have seen how much French toast you ate!" he choked out, "Boy, was Mrs. Bollis happy!"
Hermione glared at her husband. She never wanted to hear the words "French" and "toast" in the same sentence. Ever.
Ron continued laughing.
"She just kept piling it on your plate, and you kept eating! I've never seen anything like it!"
Ron's hysterical laughing slightly lessened when he saw Hermione's death glare.
"Okay, okay, I've stopped laughing. See? Nothing's funny."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously, there's nothing funny about it. I'm not laughing." Ron tried to look serious. He took a few deep breaths.
"Now then," said Hermione, "Do you think I should change what I'm wearing?"
"Oh yes," said Ron, nodding.
"Really?"
"Really. Because the one you're wearing is probably a bit sticky from all the syrup and French toast you ate this morning!" Ron burst into a new fit of hysterics.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I really don't see what's so funny."
Ron was now sitting on the bed, clutching his stomach.
"Ron-" said Hermione exasperatedly. "Come on-- Hello?" Then finally shouted, "RON!" and whacked her husband on the head. "Stop laughing like a madman!"
Ron slowly quieted again.
"Thank you," said Hermione.
In the background they could hear the front door close.
"I'm just going to go upstairs quickly," said a shaky voice of Ginny's.
They heard her hurry upstairs a shut her door.
"I wonder what that could be about?" wondered Hermione aloud.
"Something's definitely wrong," said Ron.
The two both walked over to Ginny's room.
Hermione knocked. "Ginny? Are you all right?"
"Fine," came Ginny's voice from inside, muffled from crying.
Ron opened the door.
Ginny's eyes were red and she had tears on her cheeks.
"Ginny, what's wrong?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," she answered.
"Come on, Ginny," coaxed Hermione, "Something's obviously wrong."
"It's just that I feel so awful. Nervous and confused and-- And well, do you guys think I'm a bad person if a marry Daniel?"
"Ginny, that doesn't make sense," said Ron.
"No, it does. I would be forgetting Draco if I married Daniel."
Ron muttered something about "bad memories anyway," but Hermione hit him on the arm before he could say anything else.
"No," said Hermione, glaring at her husband, "No, you would not be forgetting Draco if you re-married. Because if you really care about Daniel, and you love him, and you will be happy, then that's all that matters. Trust me; Draco will be happy as long as you are happy. You don't think that he wants to look down from heaven, or where ever he is, and see the woman he loves unhappy, right? No, he will be happy for you. Draco knows that you will always love him, and never forget him. I know that you love him and won't forget him. Even Ron knows that, though he won't admit it."
Ginny smiled a bit.
"There, see? Don't worry. Everything will be wonderful." Hermione gave Ginny a hug. "Come on, Ron and I still need to be shown around Calgary."
Ginny hesitated, but seeing no major flaw, she wiped her tears and said quietly, "Okay. Um, thanks Hermione. I'm probably just tired or something."
"Anything I can do, just tell me. Come on, Ron, let's hurry downstairs."
Ginny came down a few minutes later.
And with that, Mr. and Mrs. Bollis, Daniel, Ron, Hermione, and a still-uncertain-yet-mostly-positive Ginny set out to explore the city.
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James woke up early. In fact, it was 4:30 AM, and still dark out. He put in his contacts, gathered his things, and crept out of Peter's house. He got into his car to drive back home.
He thought about what happened that night. He tried to justify his sneaking out of the bakery by saying he needed to dye his roots, and get ready for class, but he knew it was because he did not want to face his best friend. James thought that Peter was bound to ask questions, and James absolutely did not want to answer them. Or even think about them.
In fact, as of now, he decided, last night did not happen. I did not have a bad dream, and I did not almost kill my best friend. I have no idea of what I dreamed, I did not know anyone in it, and I have no idea why people were shouting funny words and holding sticks. There is only this world. There is no such thing as -- There is no such thing as --
James frowned. He couldn't say it. I couldn't say the "m-word." And denying his past and his dream that night just left a sick feeling in his stomach.
James turned into the garage to his apartment. It was a small building, with only twelve or so tenants. The landlord was a kind old man, who used to run the complex with his wife.
James approached his door, found his keys, and opened it. His apartment had a small kitchen and living room on one end, and on bedroom and bathroom.
As soon as James walked in, his cat, Luis, ran up to him and ran around his feet, meowing.
"Ok, ok, shh," James told the cat.
Luis sat in front of James and looked up at him, with his big yellow eyes. James laughed. He bent down and scooped up the grey cat.
"And how was your night alone?" he asked Luis, cradling the cat. "I hope you didn't invite all your friends over and throw a wild party."
Luis meowed, as if in answer.
James laughed and gave the cat a kiss on the head before setting Luis down.
Luis was really more of a kitten than a cat. He was about eleven months old and was a Blue Russian. Luis had been eight weeks old when Sarah, Jacob, and Peter gave the kitten to James. A present because, as Sarah put it, "Jamesie always looked so lonely and lived the farthest away from everyone else, and therefore needed a cat." James had become very attached to Luis, and the cat was often James' only comfort when he fell into "one of his moods."
James put a scoop of cat food in Luis' dish and then walked to the bathroom to dye his hair and take a shower.
About an hour later James was now clean and had a full head of nicely brown hair. He had to use an obnoxious amount of dye to get his hair a dark brown since his color was really black. James put on slacks and a polo shirt and sat down at the table to plan out the school day.
It was a pretty simple day, really. They were going to go over the homework, do some math sheets, then finish up some projects to present on the end of school Parent's Night, which was that night. At least they had phys. ed. that day, and so another teacher would have them for that period.
Around 7:30 AM James swallowed a few of his pills and left his apartment to get to the school twenty minutes before school started, at 8:00.
The school day was rather uneventful, until one interesting conversation the class took part in while they were supposed to be working on their projects that afternoon.
"Mr. Potterson, my world map project sucks. Is that bad?" asked Jason. The class giggled at his comment. Jason was regarded as the "class clown", the troublemaker.
"No, Jason, it does not 'suck'," said James, "And would you please not use that word to describe yourself or your work."
"But look at it! It's hideous! North America looks more like a rock than anything, and Africa is non-existent!"
The class was laughing pretty hard, and that caused James to smile.
"Yeah, my project doesn't look so great either," said another boy, named Anthony.
"Whose parents would want to look at this?" piped up one girl.
The class started all talking at once, comparing bad projects, quizzes, or tests. Each student exclaimed how if they were a parent they would want to see stuff that was much more interesting.
"Hey Mr. Potterson," said Jason loudly, "If you were a parent - you're not, are you? - would you want to look at this?"
"No, I am not a parent, and yes, I would be delighted to see all of your work. If I was a parent," answered James.
"Nah, you're just saying that because you're our teacher," said Anthony.
"Did you ever have a parent night at your school?" asked Jason.
The whole class was quiet, eager for his answer.
It was a peculiar thing. James used his childhood adventures and turned them into wonderful stories for his class (the stories were a little warped to exclude any wizarding factors). He told them about his childhood at Hogwarts (he called the school England Academy) and in this way lived his past in the way he now wished he had lived it. Free from the wizarding world.
But James did not know how to answer this question. He couldn't tell them about his Aunt and Uncle, nor did his wish to tell the class that his parents had died. So he went with the quickest option.
"I don't think we had parent night," James answered. The students' faces fell a bit as they realized there would be no story.
"But," James hurriedly continued, as the kids smiled; glad to be hearing some sort of tale, "As you know I went to a boarding school. So my family there was really just my best friends. We had such fun doing homework." Each of the 5th graders had a look of disbelief on their faces. "Some of the homework, that is. Hey, don't try this at home, because we did end up not doing so well in the course, but we had one class where we started learning a bit of psychology, and we had to write down our dreams and say what they meant. I and my friends made up all sorts of things!"
And James proceeded to tell his students all about his Divination class, except it was a psychology class, and about the teacher, and how she kept proclaiming that James' dreams meant death, and just how crazy that class was.
Before he knew it, there was only an hour left of school and James had to stop his story and urge the kids to finish their work.
They finished just on time, and left the room, full of goodbyes and see-ya-later's for James.
The room was quiet, and James whistled to himself as he posted the projects on the walls and tucked in the chairs.
Yep, he thought to himself, Today was a good day.
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