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?
Chapter 11: Confrontation and Stomach Aches
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"So, what did you want to buy?" asked the man who had come out. He was busy rearranging the racks of pastries and sweets.
Hermione was staring at the glass counter, trying to decide if she really wanted two Canadian Creams and two red maple leaf shaped cookies.
"Um, yes, I wanted to buy--" Hermione looked at the man and stopped. Her eyes widened. It was him. No mistaking it. "Harry?" she asked.
James looked up from what he was doing. He squinted a bit, trying to figure out why this woman knew his first name.
Crap, he realized, it's Hermione. Now, it wasn't that he didn't want to see her, indeed, part of him wanted to run into her arms and explain everything. But he could not admit what he had done. How she must hate him! All the people who had died...
The two parts in him fought and struggled. Go to Hermione! he thought one moment. Then, in the next moment, No, run in the other direction! Together, the internal argument sent a very stupid message to James's brain: Deny everything, deny, deny, deny.
"Um, excuse me?" asked James, turning only slightly red.
"You're Harry. Don't lie to me."
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea of who you are talking about."
"But you must--"
"I know nothing," James snarled.
Hermione's face darkened and she raised her voice. "What are you talking about? You're Harry, Harry Po--"
"What is going one here?" asked Peter, coming out of the kitchen.
"I don't know. This woman is acting very strange," said James crisply.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why you--! How can you say that?"
Peter tilted his head and looked at her. "Do you know him?"
"Yes I know him! He's Harry!"
"Um, lady? That's James. James Pott--"
"I think it's time for her to go now," interrupted James, just in time to prevent his last name from being heard. He didn't want Hermione tracing him or looking him up in a phonebook.
"Wait," said Peter, "Why would you think this is someone you know?"
"He looks identical, that's why. He sounds identical, that's why. He even acts in the same way; can't tell a lie to save his life. That's why."
"Well, what did your Harry look like?"
Hermione reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. From one of the back pockets she pulled out a picture. "This is what he looked like."
The picture showed Ron, Hermione, and Harry together on graduation day, taken with Hermione's parent's camera, a muggle one so the picture didn't move. This way Hermione could always see Harry as the same smiling Harry.
Peter studied it. "It sure looks a lot like him, I'll grant you that, but James doesn't have glasses, or -- green is it? -- he doesn't have green eyes, and he doesn't have black hair, or a scar on his forehead."
"Just how long have you known 'James'?" asked Hermione suspiciously.
"Ten years."
"And did he ever have a British accent?"
Peter looked at James, who was silently pleading for Peter to say no.
"I don't think so," said Peter, at last. "And could I borrow James for a moment?"
"Fine."
Peter dragged James into the doorway of the kitchen.
"Okay, you owe me big time for that one," said Peter. "What is going on, and don't lie."
"Um, well, you see," spluttered James. He reached for his pills to swallow a couple, just in case Hermione got him angry enough to accidentally cause something to explode. Peter kept looking intently at James, which caused him to choke on his last pill.
It took a while for James to stop coughing and continue. "Look, after we get Hermione to go away, I'll explain everything to you. I promise. But can we please, please just get her to leave?"
Peter glared at James for a few seconds. "How did you know her name?"
"Please help me...make her go away...I'll explain later..." sang James, trying very hard to control his temper.
Peter sighed. "Fine."
"Good."
James went back out to the front, followed by Peter.
"Look, ma'm," began Peter, "I don't think you know what you're talking about. If you would just buy what you came for, and go back home, I think we would all be happier."
"I am positive that this is Harry. And I can prove it," said Hermione. She pulled out her wand and prepared to put a curse on Harry that he could easily block, even without a wand. Heck, Neville could block this one, she thought. She raised her wand above her head.
"No! Stop! I can't block anything!" shouted James, as he pulled Peter and they both dropped to the floor.
"Gryllia !" she shouted.
The curse barely grazed James' head and hit the wall, where grasshoppers suddenly appeared.
The bakery door opened and Ministry officials burst through. Great, thought James, Just what I needed.
James and Peter shakily got up from the floor.
By now Jacob, Sarah, and Emma had come out of the kitchen, and stood by Peter.
"What is going on here?" barked one of the officials.
Hermione was hysterical. "It's Harry, I know it. He just won't admit it."
"Just agree with anything I say," James quickly whispered to his friends.
Then he continued, addressing the official. "You know, this has happened to me before. I must be some famous Canadian actor or something, who was in a fantasy movie. People are always trying to tell me that I am 'Harry' and pointing sticks they claim are wands at me. I'm used to it."
Emma, Jacob, and Sarah nodded their heads, while Peter went on with James' explanation before the officials could put any words in edgewise. "Oh yes, it happens about once a week. "Wizards and Dragons" is the movie title. Good movie. You guys should watch it sometime. James, here, really does look like the main character. He's even asked for autographs sometimes!" Peter gave a small laugh.
Man, I love these guys, thought James, very happy that they were smart enough to do what he said to do, no questions asked.
By now, a crowd of passersby had gathered at the door.
"Better not to administer the memory charms," said one official quietly to another. "There are a lot of people here, and it sounds as if this type of thing has happened often, so it really wouldn't be of any use."
"I agree, let's just discuss this with Mrs. Weasley elsewhere."
Just then Ron pushed through the crowd and came in. Apparently he had been watching much of the argument.
"Hermione, dear, just leave it. If he wants to ignore us, so be it."
Ron put an arm around his wife and escorted the crying Hermione out. While passing James, Ron stopped.
"Whatever happened to the friend we used to know and love?" he asked quietly.
"That Harry Potter of yours must have died," James hissed back. "I don't know what you're talking about."
It hurt James to say that, it really did. Because he knew that with that last sentence, he really did kill any friendship he, Ron, and Hermione had lingering. It took every fiber of his will not to call to the retreating figures of his once best friends, not to plead with them to come back.
James stood in the doorway of the bakery, watching the people from the other world slowly meander away. James stomach started to hurt. It twisted with a mixture of nostalgia, loneliness, and guilt.
Ron and Hermione had entered his life for the first time in ten years. And in a matter of minutes, James managed to force them out of his life again, probably for good.
James stomach gave another twist of guilt as he remembered how little he had been there for his friends the year before he left. When he had been friends with Draco, true, he did ignore Ron and Hermione a bit, but it must have been ten times that amount that year before he left.
Harry had been so intent of finding the hostages, tracing Voldemort, and hiding information, that he didn't give two thoughts to Ron and Hermione. In truth, what he was fighting so hard for was Ron and Hermione, having lost everybody else, but he never stopped and talked, really talked, with the two of them.
And now they were gone.
And with yet another twist of the stomach, James realized he had just referred to himself as Harry. Not as James, but as Harry. He hadn't done that in a very, very, long time. Probably not since the fight in the pub, where he mistakenly referred to himself as one of the most powerful.
"Um, James?" asked Peter, scattering James's thoughts and memories. "What was that about?"
"Look, Peter," said James slowly, "I know you want me to explain everything now," James took a deep breath, "but I would really appreciate it if I could just be alone for a while."
It looked as if Peter didn't really know what to do, so he just nodded yes.
"James, honey," put in Sarah, "I don't know what this is about, but it seems to have affected you badly. You look awful. Why don't you just go upstairs and lay down. It will be good for you."
"Yes, that would be nice."
James slowly walked up the stairs to Peter's condo, opened the door, stumbled to Peter's couch, and fell onto it.
James felt like melting into the couch and never being seen again. How mean he had been! If he could just do it again, start the day over.
A few tears slid down his cheeks. James had tried hard, but he just couldn't stop the tears from falling.
What have I done? he asked of himself. How could I just push them out of my life like that? Say such cruel things? Should I have admitted to being Harry? Did I do the right thing?
These questions only added more doubt to James' thoughts, and gave him a headache.
Weary with what had happened, James closed his eyes and gave way to sleep, dreaming of nothing.
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Poor James. How will he ever explain?
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