DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, obviously.
I've Just Seen a Face
It had been a long day and I was eager to get home. My wife (who had left the surgery before I had) was already home, as was my daughter Hermione. We were to have a family get-together that night. Relatives from all over the country were coming to celebrate Hermione's birthday.
I had to stay behind at the surgery for a little longer – there were matters at hand that I had to attend to, much to my wife's dismay. "It's her birthday!" she cried. "Couldn't you just drag yourself away form the surgery for just one night?" As much as I love my daughter (who was turning 28 by the way) this was something that I couldn't drag myself away from. Mrs Harrison had an appointment at 5:30 that evening and she bluntly refused to make an appointment at some other time, "Tonight is Elvira's birthday as well!" she cried with indignation. "I've been busy as well! This is the only time I'm free!" She was a fickle woman, and you didn't want to arouse the anger inside her. She was a lonely and vindictive woman after all. Hence, she was the only woman I knew that would celebrate her pet sheep's birthday.
So, at six o'clock I found myself driving home, feeling really exhausted, but at the same time I was eager to see my daughter again. I rarely got to see her while she was attending Hogwarts and as soon as she graduated she moved out of home to work at the Wizarding Hospital. You see, she's a witch. I know it's hard to believe (we didn't believe it at first, we thought that it was a practical joke. But I digress) … so you couldn't imagine my excitement to see her again. My witch daughter – a girl I am damn proud of. She graduated as the dux of her year at Hogwarts and was voted Most Likely To Succeed.
Anyway, I was driving home when I saw a young man standing at the side of the road, with his arm outstretched and his thumb pointed towards one direction … the lad was hitchhiking his way home – something you shouldn't do really, considering the risks, but this lad was not just some other lad – he was Harry Potter, my daughter's dear friend at Hogwarts. It was raining outside, and he was drenched. He stood by the pavement, shivering as he hitched for a ride. What on earth is the boy doing? I said to myself. Being the good-natured man I am, I pulled over to the side of the road.
His face looked startled at first, like a deer who had been caught in the headlights. I could just imagine that he was actually surprised that somebody pulled over to offer him a lift. I reached over and wound down the window, "Need a lift?" I asked him.
The young man's eyes widened as he eagerly nodded his head. "Hop in," I said good-naturedly. Harry smiled in appreciation and opened the car door.
"Good evening Mr Granger," he said politely as he sat down. "I'm sorry for getting your seat wet. I've been standing in the rain for hours, waiting for a ride."
"Not to worry dear son. I'm more worried about you. You could've caught pneumonia!"
"I could just take a Pepper-Up Potion," he replied.
"That's right," I grinned. "You magical folk have many ways to remedy a cold – and other things. Us Muggles have it hard, eh?" With having a witch as a daughter, I slowly became accustomed to the jargon, which was an impressive feat, mind you.
"I don't know about that," said Harry solemnly.
I smiled. "I haven't seen you for a while," I said to him. I turned to him and studied him for a bit. Correct me if I was wrong, but Harry didn't look like he aged one bit. He still held vestiges of youth, despite being old enough to have a family of his own. "What have you been doing with yourself?"
"I work as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic," he replied. "I've been there for ten years now."
"An Auror?"
"Hasn't Hermione told you about them? They're dark-wizard catchers."
"Like policemen?"
"More like Her Majesty's Secret Service."
I let out a low whistled, indicating that I was impressed. "You've certainly done well for yourself. Where's your house?"
"You just drive down to the end of this road and turn left," he replied. "Then you take the first right and then you take the second left. I would've walked but I'm really tired."
"My daughter just disappears out of thin air as a method of transport," I said. "You call it Apparating, right? Couldn't you have done that?"
I could see Harry blush in embarrassment, as a tint of red was evident on his cheeks. "I didn't think of that," he said meekly.
I chuckled in response, "Never mind. You're here now. I might as well take you home."
"Thankyou Mr Granger."
"You're quite welcome."
The two of us sat in silence as the Beatles' I've Just Seen a Face played silently in my tape player. Finally, I broke the silence with small chat.
"So, Harry, as I haven't seen you for a while, what have you been doing all these years? Do you still see Ron? I know Hermione hasn't seen you for a while."
"Nah … I haven't seen anybody for a long time. I haven't seen Ron or Hermione. How is Hermione, by the way?"
"She's fine," I replied. "It's her birthday today, did you know? We're having a little get-together at our place tonight. Would you like to come? She'd be rather pleased to see you, as it has been a while. It'll be a birthday she'll never forget."
Harry squirmed for a while in his seat and replied, "I don't know, Mr Granger. As much as I'd like to see Hermione again, I don't want to intrude on your get-together. Perhaps I shall catch up with Hermione later … I don't know. It's just that I haven't seen Ron or Hermione for a long time and I don't think I'm ready to see them."
"Why not?" I asked in curiosity.
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Everything changed after the Second War with Voldemort. I lost contact with them after that. I don't know if I could pluck up the courage to see them, as it'll bring back awful memories. I'm sure she'd understand."
"Oh well," I sighed. "I'll tell her that I saw you though. She'd be disappointed. She really does miss you."
Harry merely smiled in response.
"You know," I began as I turned a corner. "I never did understand the Wizarding World. We've never heard of it until Hermione got her letter."
"I can just imagine," said Harry. "I'd been living as a Muggle for ten years before I got my letter summoning me to Hogwarts. I was just as shocked as she would've been."
"My wife and I were shocked. She was all set to go to the same school that my wife and I attended. All plans went out the window as soon as she was summoned to Hogwarts. Mind you, everything began to make sense after that. Now we have an explanation as to why many kids at her primary school who tormented her went home with purple hair and extra noses."
Harry chuckled lightly and leaned his head against the window. A smile played around his lips. "My Aunt Petunia took me to the barber when I was a young kid and I came home with a hideous haircut. I was worried as to how everyone at school would react to it. I looked like a hairy egg. Then the next morning my hair grew back to normal."
I laughed as I steered the car. "There was a young girl at school with Hermione before Hogwarts who used to torment her," I said. "Then one day, all of a sudden, she ended up with warts sprouting all over her face." Harry winced in reply. "Yeah, scary huh?"
"Yeah …"
"Still," I said. "It would've been great to be a part of that world though. From all the adventures Hermione had told me about during her school years, it sounded exciting. She told me about The Philosopher's Stone, how you rescued that little girl and the whole school from that huge snake thing in the Chamber of Secrets and she told me about the Tri-Wizard Tour-"
I instantly saw that Harry had tears streaming down his face. I didn't know what the matter was. Was it something I said?
"Are you okay, lad?" I asked him.
Harry turned to me with tear-strained eyes, gave a small sob and wiped them away immediately with the back of his hand (that was after taking his glasses off, of course). "I don't mean to be rude," he said politely, "but with the adventures came much heartache."
As I was concerned for the poor lad's feelings I immediately pulled over to the side of the road and turned to him. "If it's something I said, then I'm terribly sorry."
"I know you didn't mean it," he choked in response as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. (Hermione would have been horrified.) "It's just that, I know it's been ten years since Voldemort's defeat but I still have the emotional scars."
"I'm sorry," I said solemnly. "I forgot that you were the one that had to kill that Wizard. I wasn't considerate of your feelings. Please forgive me."
"Consider yourself forgiven," said Harry.
Later, we were on the road again, as I drove towards Harry's house.
"Do you have any family?" I asked.
"No," Harry replied.
"Girlfriend?"
"Nope."
"So you've been living as a bachelor for the duration of your life?"
"I guess you could say that," Harry replied. "I've always been career oriented. I haven't made the effort to start a family, or the like. Being an Auror means placing your life on the line – you virtually don't have a life."
"Excuse me for being impolite," I said, "But if you hold emotional scars from the Second War, then why are you an Auror?"
Harry was silent for a moment as he contemplated his answer. He finally replied, "I guess fighting evil and darkness is all I can do. I've been doing it for a long time, even before I graduated from Hogwarts. I guess you can say it happened by default."
I nodded in reply. Hermione had told me that this boy had been living with emotional abuse coming from three fronts for the first ten years of his life, which have undoubtedly damaged him emotionally. She also told me that his mother and father were killed by You Know Who (Harry and my daughter refer to him as Voldemort, his proper name but although I'm not a wizard myself, I still felt it was right not to same his name) when he was a baby. Also, his godfather (whom he regarded as a mixture of a father and a brother) was killed by a Death Eater (a follower of You Know Who) when he was fifteen. So it wasn't a surprise that Harry had little respect for himself and that he never held himself to great esteem. Even though he was twenty-seven years old, I could see that he wasn't mature emotionally. But what would I know? I'm a dentist, not a psychologist.
"I can only hope Hermione is doing well for himself," he said, breaking the silence. "Mr Granger, is she married?"
"No," I replied. "Like you, she's very career-oriented. She's very dedicated to her work as a Healer at St Mango's hospital."
"St Mungo's," Harry corrected me. "I hope she likes her job."
"She loves it," I said. "She wouldn't do anything else."
"She's had a lot of practise," Harry said. "She did a lot of work with them during the Second War, which is why I suppose they hired her. She's a very caring person. Does she still talk to Ron?"
"She went to his wedding two weeks ago," I replied. "He married the lass, Lavender Brown. Did you go to the wedding?"
"No."
I almost crashed the car in shock. What has this boy been doing for ten years? I had the sneaking suspicion that he isolated himself from everybody. Fair enough the boy didn't want to speak to Ron and Hermione but he could've at least attended the wedding.
That was quite depressing, when you came to think about it. After all, he didn't talk to Hermione for ten years. I wondered why he was reluctant to see Hermione today, considering that it was her birthday, and they were dear friends. But then again, I never really knew Harry Potter. He was always the mysterious one. I knew that he was famous in the Wizarding World, but I didn't know the extent of his fame. I only knew what Hermione has told me about him.
"Well, you're almost home," I sighed. "Was it this left?"
Harry nodded, so I steered the car and turned into that street.
"Have you considered talking to Hermione?" I asked. I felt that it was my duty to re-establish their friendship. They were best friends and were very close, after all.
"I will when I'm ready, Mr Granger. I'm not ready yet."
"I won't rush you."
"But do give my birthday wishes to her today."
"I'll do just that."
We finally pulled up towards Harry's house – or rather, his apartment. I stopped the car as Harry unbuckled his seatbelt.
"I don't know how much I can thank you, Mr Granger," he said. "I mean, I appreciate it. It was your daughter's birthday but you still took the time to drive me home. Thankyou."
"Don't mention it." I flashed him a smile. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you again, Harry."
"You too, Mr Granger," he said as he stepped out of the car. He closed the door and gave a small wave. I gave him a two-fingered salute as I drove off into the distance.
Fifteen minutes later I finally reached home and I saw that a lot of people had already arrived. I was half an hour late, but I hoped that my wife and daughter wouldn't skin me alive for this. Hey, I was taking a stranded lad home. I couldn't leave him out to die in the rain!
Sure enough, as soon as I stepped out of the car, my wife Helen and Hermione came charging out of the door, followed close behind by Ron (with a chardonnay in one hand).
"Where have you been?" Hermione shrieked. "We've been waiting for half an hour! Aunt Gladis has been pestering me for a long time asking me where you were." She jabbed her finger at my chest, "Explain yourself, Mr Granger!"
"Did you tell Aunt Gladis I was coming home soon?"
"Yes!" Helen cried as kissed my cheek. "Did Mrs Harrison take up a lot of your time?"
"No actually," I replied, but Helen appeared to have no desire to hear my explanation, as she headed back into the house. Hermione and Ron, however, remained outside.
"You'll never guess who I saw today," I said. "The poor guy was hitchhiking in the rain for a ride home. Lord only knows what he was doing out in the rain in the first place. I had to take the poor thing home. That's why I was late honey." I kissed Hermione on the cheek and shook Ron's hand. "Good to see you Ron."
"Good to see you too, Mr Granger."
"That's sweet, dad." Hermione smiled and embraced me briefly. "Who was it?"
"That friend of yours from Hogwarts," I replied. "The kid with the messy hair and glasses. Harry Potter."
For a split second, Hermione and Ron exchanged bewildered looks with each other.
"Uh … Dad," said Hermione tentatively. She and Ron looked as though they feared for my sanity. "What do you mean, Harry Potter? Harry's been dead for ten years now. He died during the Second War. Don't you remember? I told you that as soon as I went home that year."
THE END
I've Just Seen a Face
It had been a long day and I was eager to get home. My wife (who had left the surgery before I had) was already home, as was my daughter Hermione. We were to have a family get-together that night. Relatives from all over the country were coming to celebrate Hermione's birthday.
I had to stay behind at the surgery for a little longer – there were matters at hand that I had to attend to, much to my wife's dismay. "It's her birthday!" she cried. "Couldn't you just drag yourself away form the surgery for just one night?" As much as I love my daughter (who was turning 28 by the way) this was something that I couldn't drag myself away from. Mrs Harrison had an appointment at 5:30 that evening and she bluntly refused to make an appointment at some other time, "Tonight is Elvira's birthday as well!" she cried with indignation. "I've been busy as well! This is the only time I'm free!" She was a fickle woman, and you didn't want to arouse the anger inside her. She was a lonely and vindictive woman after all. Hence, she was the only woman I knew that would celebrate her pet sheep's birthday.
So, at six o'clock I found myself driving home, feeling really exhausted, but at the same time I was eager to see my daughter again. I rarely got to see her while she was attending Hogwarts and as soon as she graduated she moved out of home to work at the Wizarding Hospital. You see, she's a witch. I know it's hard to believe (we didn't believe it at first, we thought that it was a practical joke. But I digress) … so you couldn't imagine my excitement to see her again. My witch daughter – a girl I am damn proud of. She graduated as the dux of her year at Hogwarts and was voted Most Likely To Succeed.
Anyway, I was driving home when I saw a young man standing at the side of the road, with his arm outstretched and his thumb pointed towards one direction … the lad was hitchhiking his way home – something you shouldn't do really, considering the risks, but this lad was not just some other lad – he was Harry Potter, my daughter's dear friend at Hogwarts. It was raining outside, and he was drenched. He stood by the pavement, shivering as he hitched for a ride. What on earth is the boy doing? I said to myself. Being the good-natured man I am, I pulled over to the side of the road.
His face looked startled at first, like a deer who had been caught in the headlights. I could just imagine that he was actually surprised that somebody pulled over to offer him a lift. I reached over and wound down the window, "Need a lift?" I asked him.
The young man's eyes widened as he eagerly nodded his head. "Hop in," I said good-naturedly. Harry smiled in appreciation and opened the car door.
"Good evening Mr Granger," he said politely as he sat down. "I'm sorry for getting your seat wet. I've been standing in the rain for hours, waiting for a ride."
"Not to worry dear son. I'm more worried about you. You could've caught pneumonia!"
"I could just take a Pepper-Up Potion," he replied.
"That's right," I grinned. "You magical folk have many ways to remedy a cold – and other things. Us Muggles have it hard, eh?" With having a witch as a daughter, I slowly became accustomed to the jargon, which was an impressive feat, mind you.
"I don't know about that," said Harry solemnly.
I smiled. "I haven't seen you for a while," I said to him. I turned to him and studied him for a bit. Correct me if I was wrong, but Harry didn't look like he aged one bit. He still held vestiges of youth, despite being old enough to have a family of his own. "What have you been doing with yourself?"
"I work as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic," he replied. "I've been there for ten years now."
"An Auror?"
"Hasn't Hermione told you about them? They're dark-wizard catchers."
"Like policemen?"
"More like Her Majesty's Secret Service."
I let out a low whistled, indicating that I was impressed. "You've certainly done well for yourself. Where's your house?"
"You just drive down to the end of this road and turn left," he replied. "Then you take the first right and then you take the second left. I would've walked but I'm really tired."
"My daughter just disappears out of thin air as a method of transport," I said. "You call it Apparating, right? Couldn't you have done that?"
I could see Harry blush in embarrassment, as a tint of red was evident on his cheeks. "I didn't think of that," he said meekly.
I chuckled in response, "Never mind. You're here now. I might as well take you home."
"Thankyou Mr Granger."
"You're quite welcome."
The two of us sat in silence as the Beatles' I've Just Seen a Face played silently in my tape player. Finally, I broke the silence with small chat.
"So, Harry, as I haven't seen you for a while, what have you been doing all these years? Do you still see Ron? I know Hermione hasn't seen you for a while."
"Nah … I haven't seen anybody for a long time. I haven't seen Ron or Hermione. How is Hermione, by the way?"
"She's fine," I replied. "It's her birthday today, did you know? We're having a little get-together at our place tonight. Would you like to come? She'd be rather pleased to see you, as it has been a while. It'll be a birthday she'll never forget."
Harry squirmed for a while in his seat and replied, "I don't know, Mr Granger. As much as I'd like to see Hermione again, I don't want to intrude on your get-together. Perhaps I shall catch up with Hermione later … I don't know. It's just that I haven't seen Ron or Hermione for a long time and I don't think I'm ready to see them."
"Why not?" I asked in curiosity.
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Everything changed after the Second War with Voldemort. I lost contact with them after that. I don't know if I could pluck up the courage to see them, as it'll bring back awful memories. I'm sure she'd understand."
"Oh well," I sighed. "I'll tell her that I saw you though. She'd be disappointed. She really does miss you."
Harry merely smiled in response.
"You know," I began as I turned a corner. "I never did understand the Wizarding World. We've never heard of it until Hermione got her letter."
"I can just imagine," said Harry. "I'd been living as a Muggle for ten years before I got my letter summoning me to Hogwarts. I was just as shocked as she would've been."
"My wife and I were shocked. She was all set to go to the same school that my wife and I attended. All plans went out the window as soon as she was summoned to Hogwarts. Mind you, everything began to make sense after that. Now we have an explanation as to why many kids at her primary school who tormented her went home with purple hair and extra noses."
Harry chuckled lightly and leaned his head against the window. A smile played around his lips. "My Aunt Petunia took me to the barber when I was a young kid and I came home with a hideous haircut. I was worried as to how everyone at school would react to it. I looked like a hairy egg. Then the next morning my hair grew back to normal."
I laughed as I steered the car. "There was a young girl at school with Hermione before Hogwarts who used to torment her," I said. "Then one day, all of a sudden, she ended up with warts sprouting all over her face." Harry winced in reply. "Yeah, scary huh?"
"Yeah …"
"Still," I said. "It would've been great to be a part of that world though. From all the adventures Hermione had told me about during her school years, it sounded exciting. She told me about The Philosopher's Stone, how you rescued that little girl and the whole school from that huge snake thing in the Chamber of Secrets and she told me about the Tri-Wizard Tour-"
I instantly saw that Harry had tears streaming down his face. I didn't know what the matter was. Was it something I said?
"Are you okay, lad?" I asked him.
Harry turned to me with tear-strained eyes, gave a small sob and wiped them away immediately with the back of his hand (that was after taking his glasses off, of course). "I don't mean to be rude," he said politely, "but with the adventures came much heartache."
As I was concerned for the poor lad's feelings I immediately pulled over to the side of the road and turned to him. "If it's something I said, then I'm terribly sorry."
"I know you didn't mean it," he choked in response as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. (Hermione would have been horrified.) "It's just that, I know it's been ten years since Voldemort's defeat but I still have the emotional scars."
"I'm sorry," I said solemnly. "I forgot that you were the one that had to kill that Wizard. I wasn't considerate of your feelings. Please forgive me."
"Consider yourself forgiven," said Harry.
Later, we were on the road again, as I drove towards Harry's house.
"Do you have any family?" I asked.
"No," Harry replied.
"Girlfriend?"
"Nope."
"So you've been living as a bachelor for the duration of your life?"
"I guess you could say that," Harry replied. "I've always been career oriented. I haven't made the effort to start a family, or the like. Being an Auror means placing your life on the line – you virtually don't have a life."
"Excuse me for being impolite," I said, "But if you hold emotional scars from the Second War, then why are you an Auror?"
Harry was silent for a moment as he contemplated his answer. He finally replied, "I guess fighting evil and darkness is all I can do. I've been doing it for a long time, even before I graduated from Hogwarts. I guess you can say it happened by default."
I nodded in reply. Hermione had told me that this boy had been living with emotional abuse coming from three fronts for the first ten years of his life, which have undoubtedly damaged him emotionally. She also told me that his mother and father were killed by You Know Who (Harry and my daughter refer to him as Voldemort, his proper name but although I'm not a wizard myself, I still felt it was right not to same his name) when he was a baby. Also, his godfather (whom he regarded as a mixture of a father and a brother) was killed by a Death Eater (a follower of You Know Who) when he was fifteen. So it wasn't a surprise that Harry had little respect for himself and that he never held himself to great esteem. Even though he was twenty-seven years old, I could see that he wasn't mature emotionally. But what would I know? I'm a dentist, not a psychologist.
"I can only hope Hermione is doing well for himself," he said, breaking the silence. "Mr Granger, is she married?"
"No," I replied. "Like you, she's very career-oriented. She's very dedicated to her work as a Healer at St Mango's hospital."
"St Mungo's," Harry corrected me. "I hope she likes her job."
"She loves it," I said. "She wouldn't do anything else."
"She's had a lot of practise," Harry said. "She did a lot of work with them during the Second War, which is why I suppose they hired her. She's a very caring person. Does she still talk to Ron?"
"She went to his wedding two weeks ago," I replied. "He married the lass, Lavender Brown. Did you go to the wedding?"
"No."
I almost crashed the car in shock. What has this boy been doing for ten years? I had the sneaking suspicion that he isolated himself from everybody. Fair enough the boy didn't want to speak to Ron and Hermione but he could've at least attended the wedding.
That was quite depressing, when you came to think about it. After all, he didn't talk to Hermione for ten years. I wondered why he was reluctant to see Hermione today, considering that it was her birthday, and they were dear friends. But then again, I never really knew Harry Potter. He was always the mysterious one. I knew that he was famous in the Wizarding World, but I didn't know the extent of his fame. I only knew what Hermione has told me about him.
"Well, you're almost home," I sighed. "Was it this left?"
Harry nodded, so I steered the car and turned into that street.
"Have you considered talking to Hermione?" I asked. I felt that it was my duty to re-establish their friendship. They were best friends and were very close, after all.
"I will when I'm ready, Mr Granger. I'm not ready yet."
"I won't rush you."
"But do give my birthday wishes to her today."
"I'll do just that."
We finally pulled up towards Harry's house – or rather, his apartment. I stopped the car as Harry unbuckled his seatbelt.
"I don't know how much I can thank you, Mr Granger," he said. "I mean, I appreciate it. It was your daughter's birthday but you still took the time to drive me home. Thankyou."
"Don't mention it." I flashed him a smile. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you again, Harry."
"You too, Mr Granger," he said as he stepped out of the car. He closed the door and gave a small wave. I gave him a two-fingered salute as I drove off into the distance.
Fifteen minutes later I finally reached home and I saw that a lot of people had already arrived. I was half an hour late, but I hoped that my wife and daughter wouldn't skin me alive for this. Hey, I was taking a stranded lad home. I couldn't leave him out to die in the rain!
Sure enough, as soon as I stepped out of the car, my wife Helen and Hermione came charging out of the door, followed close behind by Ron (with a chardonnay in one hand).
"Where have you been?" Hermione shrieked. "We've been waiting for half an hour! Aunt Gladis has been pestering me for a long time asking me where you were." She jabbed her finger at my chest, "Explain yourself, Mr Granger!"
"Did you tell Aunt Gladis I was coming home soon?"
"Yes!" Helen cried as kissed my cheek. "Did Mrs Harrison take up a lot of your time?"
"No actually," I replied, but Helen appeared to have no desire to hear my explanation, as she headed back into the house. Hermione and Ron, however, remained outside.
"You'll never guess who I saw today," I said. "The poor guy was hitchhiking in the rain for a ride home. Lord only knows what he was doing out in the rain in the first place. I had to take the poor thing home. That's why I was late honey." I kissed Hermione on the cheek and shook Ron's hand. "Good to see you Ron."
"Good to see you too, Mr Granger."
"That's sweet, dad." Hermione smiled and embraced me briefly. "Who was it?"
"That friend of yours from Hogwarts," I replied. "The kid with the messy hair and glasses. Harry Potter."
For a split second, Hermione and Ron exchanged bewildered looks with each other.
"Uh … Dad," said Hermione tentatively. She and Ron looked as though they feared for my sanity. "What do you mean, Harry Potter? Harry's been dead for ten years now. He died during the Second War. Don't you remember? I told you that as soon as I went home that year."
THE END