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. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?
Author's note: I know the last chapter made a few people...angry. But that's okay, because a happy resolution will be coming...soon.
Chapter 13: Anger and Allergies
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Ron and Hermione came home to an empty house. Jack and Emily hadn't come home from the Burrow yet. This gave Hermione plenty of opportunity to continue ranting about that happened in Peter's Bakery.
"Ron, I mean it. That really was Harry," cried Hermione
"Look Hermione, I thought it was Harry, too. But you and I have thought about it so much, and talked about it so much, that I just can't remember one thing from another."
"But you were in the bakery for less time than I. Which means that I would know better than you. I mean, after all, it looked just like him. And his cheeks flushed when he recognized me, I think."
"He seemed sure of himself when he said he wasn't Harry Potter."
"Yeah, but you and I both know that Harry quickly learned how to tell a believable lie as soon as--" Hermione gave a small gasp. "Wait, did you just say that he claimed not to be Harry Potter?"
"Yes..."
"But how did he know that Harry's last name was Potter?" Hermione's face was bright with realization and hope.
"He would have known because you told him that he was Harry Potter," said Ron, slightly confused.
"No, I don't think I every called him Harry Potter."
"I bet you did. There are a lot of people named Harry, and wouldn't have been smart to call someone by just their first name if you were trying to recognize him. I know you, Hermione. You definitely would have said his last name."
"But what if I didn't?" asked Hermione, feeling once again helpless as her last hope was crushed.
"I know how much you want him back, dear, and I want him back too, but you've got to let it drop. Thinking round and round in circles like this is just going to wear you out, and will not accomplish anything. I know you miss him. I miss him too."
A few tears ran down Hermione's face. "But-- But I was so close. And he looked just like Harry..."
"I know, I know," soothed Ron. He put his arms around her and tried to comfort her as she started to sob.
"It's been so long, and I-- I just want my Harry back. Oh, Ron, I miss him so much!"
"I miss him too--"
Hermione stepped back, suddenly looking angry. "It's been ten years, Ron, ten years! Why hasn't he turned up? He should be back by now. I bet he's in some wizard resort in Jamaica, sitting on the beach without a care in the world. He wouldn't become a muggle. Why would he do that? He's one of the most powerful wizards, an E level, for god's sake! You and I are only level C. He's above Dumbledore, above He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, above anyone in at least the last two centuries! He's on the same levels as the founders! What kind of person would give that up? Not Harry, he wouldn't run from that, from what Dumbledore and you and I stood for, what Malfoy and Sirius and Lupin stood for, from what his parents stood for. He wouldn't go back to the world where he was abused and teased and misunderstood. He wouldn't do that, not Harry."
"So you think he's still in the wizarding world?"
"Yes, or-- or dead." This statement caused Hermione to start sobbing again. "It's just not fair, that was him in the bakery..."
"But I thought you just said that Harry wouldn't join the muggle world."
"I don't know what I think. All I know is that I'll do anything to get him back."
"I think you should get some rest, dear. Some sleep."
Hermione's tears were abating and she yawned. "Yes, sleep."
Ron and Hermione made their way to the bedroom. Ron carried the luggage in. Hermione kicked off her shoes and flopped on the bed. She gave one or two small sobs before falling asleep.
Ron snuggled under the covers, but he could not fall asleep. Instead, he became deep in thought.
He knew how badly Hermione felt, mostly because she thought she was the main reason Harry ran away. She had urged Ron to come with her, to go meet up with Harry before he could follow through with his crazy plan, but they had came too early, and had only made things worse.
It was a mystery to almost everyone, including Ron and Hermione, what had happened the night of Voldemort's downfall. A few Death Eaters knew some of the facts, but nobody relied on what they said as solid information.
What happened to the Great Harry Potter? That was the question on everyone's minds. If someone reported a "Harry Potter sighting", all the newspapers came running, anything to find out where Harry was and what really happened that night ten years ago.
Ron suddenly became angry. What gave Harry the right to just get up and leave everything behind? To make Hermione so sad? To just get up and leave everything, Lupin, Dumbledore, Hermione, himself, all his mentors, all his friends? The whole world saw him as a hero, when in reality he was just a big coward. Harry had to be alive, he just had to be.
"I'll find him, wherever he's hiding," whispered Ron aloud, "No matter what I have to do. And the very first thing I'll do when I find him is knock some sense into him, hard."
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James jumped out of bed the next morning with renewed energy. He had spent an hour in bed this morning thinking, and he had come to a decision: he was determined to forget everything and move on with his life.
"After all," said James to his reflection in the mirror as he was brushing his teeth, "Why should I feel sorry for myself? I'm perfectly happy." He spat out some toothpaste and filled up a cup of water. "And it's not as if anything is different. People just now believe that I had am unfortunate past, and now I'm over it." He gargled some water, spat it out, and wiped his mouth.
"And even if anything should be different," James continued the conversation while tying his tie, "It would only be that my friends should trust me more, and stop asking questions. Oh sure, they might sympathize with me for a few days, but then it will be over, and everything will be normal again."
James walked into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Luis jumped up on the table and meowed.
James took a bite of cereal, swallowed, and turned to Luis for reassurance. "Besides, there's no way anybody could think anything else about me than what I've said. I only said I look like some actor, and that was vague enough that no one would ever want to fish through loads and loads of movies to find that actor." James took another bite of cereal. "And I said that to wizards, and they definitely won't look into that. Plus, Peter and everybody will probably feel bad whenever they ask me questions about my past, and so they will never try to find out whether I'm telling the truth or not. I covered all the bases, haven't I?"
Luis only tilted his head.
James reverted to silence and finished his breakfast.
"Yep, everything will return to normal," said James in finality. He put his dishes in the sink and swallowed a couple of his pills.
Luis meowed.
"The pills are considered normal, Luis." The cat sat down in front of James and looked up skeptically at the man. "Really, this is all normal." The cat continued to stare up at James. "Okay, I'll say the pills are just for migraines. No, even better, allergies!"
James put a hand on his chest and looked earnestly at Luis. "I have allergies all year, you know. It's horrible. My eyes get puffy and red, and my throat hurts, and I'm sneezing all the time, and these pills are the only things that keep me safe from it all. Where did I get them, you ask? In a store somewhere in Europe, but I really can't remember anything more than that. I was just so desperate, that everything else seems to have faded."
James snapped out of his act and bent down to face Luis. "I think that story will do very well. What do you think?" Luis meowed and rubbed up against James hands.
James gave Luis a pet and then stood up and looked at his watch. It was still fairly early. James had half an hour before he had to leave for work. Last day of school, thought James.
He sat down on the couch and stared at where the TV used to be. James had thrown the scraps of the blown-up TV in the garbage, but there was still a brown outline of the TV on the wall, left over from when the explosion had slightly burnt the wallpaper. I should have controlled myself better, thought James sadly.
With no TV to watch the morning news, James was left alone with his thoughts, which began to roam back ten years; to the night he had found the people who were the saviors in James's life.
----(flashback)----
It was rainy, and dark, and stormy. Lighting flashed and thunder roared. Which, contrary to the many stories that start out with that type of weather, was a blessing for Harry.
The summer storm seemed to be an omen of good fortune, being Harry's first lucky break in a long while. Rain and storm meant no one in their right mind would be outside at this time. Darkness covered the sight of Harry, thunder covered the sound of Harry's footfalls, and the momentary flash of lightning illuminated Harry's way just enough so he could figure out where he was headed.
The latter, he supposed, wasn't truly necessary, as Harry honestly didn't know where he wanted to go, just that he was headed towards the house of Ciara, and that it was in Scotland. Harry had already spent a two months wandering around Scotland, looking in muggle phone books for the woman Ciara. He traveled only at night, and ate only in purely muggle villages. He had taken half of his money out of Gringotts and was lugging it around with him in his backpack. Half of the money had been exchanged for muggle money at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had been under a coat and heavily hooded, of course.
It seemed vital to Harry that no one should recognize him, or else he knew that he couldn't go through with his plan and would end up living in the wizarding world for good, which meant that every day would torture him and make him more and more miserable. The very thought made him shudder.
Harry saw the lights of a town up ahead. The houses on the outskirts were all dark on the inside, but soon Harry came up to the first house with the lights on.
He peered in the window to make sure that it was a muggle house, then went up to the door and knocked. A lady opened the door. Warm yellow light flooded out from the house. Harry could feel heat coming from the inside and could smell something baking.
The lady looked disdainfully upon the dripping Harry. "May I help you?"
"Um, yes. Do you know anything about a woman named Ciara?"
"I'm sorry, but we just moved here. Have a good night." The lady closed the door.
"What's her problem?" Harry muttered to himself as he walked away. He was once again in the darkness and the cold. And he realized that he was hungry.
Harry went to the next house with the lights on and knocked. A man came to the door and pointed towards the end of the town in response to Harry's question. He hastily closed the door, and Harry was once again back where he started, as the man said he only thought there could be a person by that name, somewhere in the village.
Harry would have been happy to know that he had finally come to Ciara's village, except he had already been directed to wrong households in other towns.
Great, thought Harry gloomily, I might have passed her house, for all I know. What am I doing anyway? Hiking all over Scotland to find one woman. I've built my entire future around what she can do for me, but how do I even know she exists? It's hopeless.
But even thinking this, Harry couldn't just stop everything he had been counting on and hoping for. Thus, Harry slowly made his way to the next lighted house, and knocked on the door. An old lady stepped out and gaped at Harry.
"Oh you poor dear! Look at you, out in the cold! Nobody should be out in weather like this. Here, come inside."
Harry was swept into the house and was promptly seated on a couch with a blanket wrapped around him and a thermometer stuck in his mouth.
"There," said the lady, "That should warm you up. Now don't you move a muscle until I come back with your tea."
She brushed through a swinging door into the kitchen. Harry could hear pots and pans banging and the old lady humming.
Harry leaned forward to try to see into the next room, where another light was on and the rustle of a newspaper could be heard.
"No moving means no moving!" cried the lady from the kitchen.
Harry quickly snapped back into place.
The lady soon came out of the kitchen with a tray in her hands and set the tray on the coffee table. She took the thermometer out of Harry's mouth and tsk-ed. Then she poured Harry a cup of steaming tea and handed it to him.
"Now then," she said, "I want you to drink that all up. It's good for you."
Harry dumbly nodded his head and took a sip of tea. It didn't taste that bad.
The lady went on. "I have been expecting you, but I must say, you're a bit late."
Harry looked up confusedly at the lady.
"Oh, don't worry, you're not that late."
Harry finally found his voice. "So you must be..."
"Ciara. And my husband is Paul. He's in the other room."
Harry was ecstatic. "I've been looking for you for so long! For two months, in fact. All over Scotland. This is wonderful! You see, I really need--"
"Shh, calm down. You're just working yourself up."
"But I need--"
"No buts. You don't need anything but sleep. Come on, up to bed. Your room is ready."
Ciara gently raised Harry to his feet and wrapped the blanket a little more tightly around him.
"There. Now, come with me and I'll show you your room."
Harry followed Ciara like a little kid up the stairs and into a room with blue and white wallpaper. Ciara turned on the bedside lamp. The room was illuminated in a soft beige light. There was a wooden bed with a white down blanket on top, a blue and white mountain of pillows at the head of the bed, and a blue fleece blanket at the foot of the bed. On one wall was a mirror and against the other was a dresser. Grey pajamas were folded on top, apparently for Harry.
Ciara took the teacup from Harry, which was somehow once again filled with steaming tea, and she set it on the bedside table.
"Now you put on your pajamas and get into bed likity-split. I want you to have a good night sleep."
"Um, thank you."
"Your welcome. Good night." Ciara closed the door softly.
Harry followed her instructions. He put on the grey pajamas and climbed into bed. After taking a sip of tea, he turned off the light and fell asleep.
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