Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 7

Almost two weeks had passed since the start of the school year, which also meant Harry had a chance to re-try all of his old classes. It ended pretty much the way he expected: while he could spice up the practical side of them by attempting to modify his spells, or to cast them silently or even without a wand, the theoretical part of lessons were still exceedingly boring, save for the small nuggets of information that temporarily arose his interest.

Potions remained the lone exception, as it remained as unpleasant as during the first lesson. Unsurprisingly no one had the courage to hint at Snape how his love life was now public knowledge, but Harry knew that sooner or (more likely) later there would be some reckoning. Nevermind that, all his classes still posed no challenge to him and this, combined with the ease he could complete the few assignments given by the teachers, meant a lot of free time and not enough activities to fill it.

At least he was going along with his house-mates, something that surprised even himself. While they could be annoying during moments of stress, most of the time they were just well-behaving kids focused on school work and companionship. What Harry mostly missed in his new daily routine were adult topics and activities, ranging from newspaper stories to family relationships and gossips. He did not resent his younger peers only because they would occasionally come up with some toilet humor joke, or when the random "Shut up – No, you shut up" could be heard in their dormitory, but he didn't appreciate those moments either.

Beside a persistent tension between Justin and Zacharias they were overall friendly between each other; arguably a consequence of the scarcity of non-academical activities and the consequential unity forced to them – it was either friendships, or boredom. Not that Harry was interested in the "social developments" inside their little group: while remaining polite and friendly to all his year mates, boys and girls, it became obvious fast that he would not be spending all of his evenings with them, be it for completing their class work or for playing some board game.

He remained with them in the common room, occasionally, for entertainment or when he felt like helping them with assignments, but for the majority of his hours not spent in class Harry just toured the castle, getting used to it and its perks once again. Stares followed him everywhere, probably because the mundane life of Hogwarts allowed his pseudo-celebrity status to remain fresh and interesting for longer than normal, but he paid no mind to those. They would stop eventually, he knew that, so he just kept walking and thinking.

By now he was mostly giving up on understanding what happened to him and to his reality: the change seemed permanent, he had no idea how to reverse it and – more importantly - he was not completely sure he desired to go back. What really scared him was not remaining stuck in this new situation, but what became of his old world. He was wishing desperately that whatever happened just 'moved' him somewhere else, maybe on those alternative dimensions that muggles occasionally talked about, instead of deleting his old future and killing his children or few surviving friends, an idea that was literally able to keep him awake at night.

Beside those random moments of anxiety, the restlessness that he felt in his last day as an old man did not abandon him only because his body was younger. Classes and kids filled his hours, and while not desired it was not such a bad situation that he felt pressed for action as to change it. He had a small to-do list, ranging from dealing with Quirrell to combing his hair every morning (how weird to have hair again – out of pride he had refused to use potions for regrows until he stopped caring about his slowly approaching baldness) but no timeline attached to it. Those things were of small to no personal importance for him – if there even was a bigger point about this trip to the past, he could not see it – so he just kept moving from one activity to the next, switching them as fast as his attention for one abated.

The break in this new routine arrived when he finally accepted Hagrid's call for a meeting. The half giant invited him for tea after the end of the first school week, something that Harry vaguely remembered from his youth, but when caught on the spot Harry initially had to decline. A couple of his classmates, when he received the invite at breakfast, insisted to accompany him but he refused: their curiosity was understandable, but he had no obligation to ruin what could be an entertaining visit only to satisfy them. When they kept pushing he just said he was not going to go due to all the home works and the studying and whats not, and they eventually shut up. So, after some days, Harry sent Hagrid a note stating that he was finally free and would be happy to come and visit right after dinner.

"Back, Fang, back" said Hagrid, before checking who had just knocked at his door and seeing Harry outside. Soon, they were both sitting at the table, with Harry bemusedly trying to keep the huge dog from licking his face.

"Make yerself at home, Harry. There are rock cakes ready, and the tea will be ready soon"

"Sure, sure. I am quite hungry, to be honest – a side effect of the meals at school, I guess" said Harry.

"Didn't I tell ya Hogwarts is awesome? The food is only part of it. Here, eat this" Hagrid said, while offering the plate with the cakes on it. Taking advantage of a moment Hagrid stood up to check on the boiling teapot, Harry cast a quick softening spells on them: taste-wise they were not bad, only hard to chew. After they were both sitting again, a small conversation started about school and classes. Always jovial, Hagrid wanted to know everything about Harry's first days in Hogwarts and he had no problems satisfying his curiosity. The professors, the classes, his housemates, Harry talked at length about what he thought of them. Hagrid seemed happy to let him talk, beside adding his random comment once in a while, but appeared worried when Harry casually described his first potion class and what he 'let slip' immediately after.

"Tha' wasn't wise, Harry, not at all. If professor Snape finds out, he's going to be mad at ye" said Hagrid in a worried tone of voice. Harry felt slightly ashamed to pretend even with his old friend, but decided to press on anyway.

"Wait, you mean the Severus of my story was really professor Snape?" he asked with a fake surprised tone. At this, Hagrid appeared even more flustered.

"No! I 'now nothing of his personal business, and neither should ya! I am jus' saying you should keep your mouth shut if you aint sure on wha' you saying, Harry."

"Oh. Well, if he get angry I will just say sorry. If that story is not true, he has no reason to be against me after all. Right, Hagrid?"

"Right, right. Jus' forget about all that. So, what else can you tell on your classes?"

At this, Harry felt slightly disillusioned, and old: here was honest, simple Hagrid lying straight into his face because it was easier than saying the truth. Maybe he had good intentions, but... no, even in that case he should have at least hinted that there were unfinished dealings between Snape and his father. With a mental shrug, he restarted talking but with considerable less enthusiasm than before. While his eyes were wandering around the hut, he noticed a piece of newspaper which reported, in capital letter, of a break-in at Gringott. 'Of course, that old story' thought Harry. It was something Harry wanted to talk about, anyway.

"Oh, someone stole something from that bank you took me to, Hagrid. I hope they didn't take any of my money" he said casually.

"Nah, don't you worry Harry. They stole nothing, it's written righ' here."

"Still, it worries me a little. Do you still have my key, Hagrid? I was planning on giving it to my aunt, for safekeeping."

"No, I gave it back to the Headmaster. It's in safe hands there, Harry, no one is more trustworthy than him" said Hagrid, seemingly happy now that he could talk of Dumbledore. Harry was not in the mood for compliance, though, not anymore.

"Yeah, well, I would still like to give it back to my family. Can you tell me how i can speak with him?"

"Sure, Harry. I will tell him you want to have a chat, and I am sure he will call you ok?" said Hagrid with eagerness. An emotion that Harry did not share, and that he took as his cue to end the night.

"Thank you, Hagrid. It's getting late now, and I still have to complete some of my homework. See you another time?" said Harry, while standing up from his chair.

After some extra minutes of greetings, a gift of rock cakes, and a promise to come back again for more chatting, Harry left the hut and started walking to the lake: he did not felt like going back to the common room and be asked how was Hagrid's hut, just in case someone saw him go there. Plus, he had stuff to think over.

Arrived on the shore he sat down, took out another pastry to eat and just enjoyed the sight of the castle. The visit to Hagrid left him unsatisfied, and he mused over what had irked him so much. The lies? Those were certainly not new to him, people lied to each other constantly, and often without bad intentions. He was the first in doing so.

Hagrid probably thought that there was nothing to gain in learning about of the feud between James Potter and Snape, and all to lose if Harry over reacted and started antagonizing the professor. Maybe it was the pandering, the overall attitude that he could not face certain hardships and so he should just be left out of them. It was not a matter of pride: it annoyed him to be undervalued, but he did not expect anyone to take his eleven year-old persona seriously.

Maybe that was the point... to everyone, he was a kid and that prevented any form of honest connection. What he became during his life, from his adventures to more mundane activities related to his job and his family, everything had shaped him into the man he was now no matter what he looked like on the outside; but no one else saw that – he could not show that side of his personality. When dealing with kids he took that for granted, just like in his old life, but having to be like that even with Hagrid really brought the point home.

While munching on his cakes, with the night's coldness encroaching on him, Harry felt suddenly more alone than he ever felt since arriving back in this time: was this the true price of time travel? Apparently, familiar faces and locations were not enough, not without that spark that comes with actual time and experiences lived together. Bottom line, he thought bitterly, he was an interloper here: he did not felt like a kid, a student, or the boy-who-lived; and what he really was, what he valued about himself, he could not show openly.

This was not his place, those people were not his old friends, and if he wanted to have a new life he would have to work hard for it, like the first time. Learning to know them, making them know him, sharing their lives and activities. And, by heaven, he did not want to do that. 'This is... pretty bad', he mused sarcastically – to face all the effort one already had to fight trough, only to get slightly better results than the one mostly enjoyed already. It sounded great on paper, maybe, but to leave all you valued behind only to do that... it was the action of someone desperate who loathed his life, and while his days as an old man may have not been stellar in his last years, they were still good enough.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry stood up and walked towards the castle. Having such a negative attitude was not his way: as he liked to say to his own children when they threw tantrums over their chores, one year of complaining mattered less than one hour of work. He may not be sure on what to do ultimately, true, but he could at least deal with what steps he was sure had to be dealt with. Take back control over his money, just in case he finally got fed up with Hogwarts and decided to move somewhere else. Deal with that damn Riddle wraith, so that he would not have to face regrets if he managed to come back. And, definitely, finding something to do even if he had to force himself a little; he was already too close to apathy for his own tastes, and he would do better to start something. Flying, maybe, but without Quidditch involved hopefully. A visit to Diagon Alley could inspire him, too. A check up in the library, especially the forbidden section, in search of something unusual. Anything would work, as long as it shook him up.

When he ate his last rock cake, he also decided on the spot that he would not mind something to drink – a hot chocolate maybe. He was probably already violating the curfew, so he might as well take full advantage of it and make a short trip to the kitchen; being caught meant nothing, if you were doing something so unsuspicious, after all. Speeding up, he entered inside the castle hoping not to meet some uptight prefect that could easily ruin what few drops of good mood he had just recovered. All he wanted were his drink, his bed, and a new day.