Memory's the Word

It was time. Time to retire, to move on. He'd been doing this---fighting evil---since he was born. He was nearing thirty, and was thoroughly exhausted. Too many scars littered his body---the most noticeable, a lightning bolt, blemished his forehead.

Harry Potter turned in his auror badge, and bought a small cottage on the outskirts of London. He’d made the cottage unplottable and set up dozens of wards. Even eleven years after his defeat of Voldemort, his fame still haunted him. Girls followed him around like he was the biggest thing since the Beatles. Each year the insanity had died down a bit, but he still got the occasional pair of knickers in the post. And there were also a few leftover Voldemort supports who wanted Harry dead.

After Hogwarts, Harry had regrettably lost touch with his friends. Ron had died in their seventh year (kidnapped, and then killed by Voldemort himself). Harry sunk into a deep depression after that, and did his 'push-people-away' bit, resulting in a falling out with Hermione. Their friendship was strained after that, and never quite recovered. That had resulted in them not keeping in touch. The last Harry had heard (via the Daily Prophet), Hermione had married a wealthy American muggle by the name of Malcolm Foxworth.

After that, Harry had cancelled his Daily Prophet subscription.

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Harry awoke with a start, banging his head on the coffee table on the floor of his living room. Last night he had fallen asleep on the couch reading. At some point during the night he had ended up on the floor. He'd woken up from a dream, no, a nightmare. One that hadn't plagued him in over five years. It had Hermione---being tortured to the point of insanity by a cloaked figure. And crucio wasn't even close to the worst of it. Harry shivered.

Getting up, he went to his bedroom and changed into a fresh shirt and jeans. He put a cap on his head and started for Diagon Alley.

Today he would go to the Magical Menagerie to buy a new owl. Hedwig had died a few years previously, and Harry hadn't had the time to buy a new owl. When he had ever needed to owl someone, he just borrowed one from work.

Pushing open the door to the Magical Menagerie, Harry had to cover his ears. The animals were all being rather loud---screeches and hisses filled the place. Harry walked over to the owl section of the store, and peered into some of the cages. None of the owls stood out like Hedwig had so many years ago. Sighing, Harry resignedly made his way to the door.

"Ow,” he exclaimed as something ran into him. It was a little boy with curly, flaxen blond hair and periwinkle blue eyes.

"M’sorry, mister! I’m just 'cited 'cause my mum said she that we might get a cat," the boy said in almost a whisper, clearly scared of Harry. And before Harry could reassure the boy that he didn't mind being trampled on, the kid had shot over to the cat cages. Chuckling, Harry opened the door and walked outside.

“Memory’s Words ” was the sign directly across the street from the Magical Menagerie. "Book Shoppe" written in a familiar scroll underneath.

Over the years, Harry hadn't had the time for a girlfriend, nor did he want to put anyone in danger by being associated with him. So he had taken up books. Quite often he thought that they made better companions than some humans.

Harry walked across the street, dodging scurrying witches and wizards and their broods. He reached the book shop and pushed open the door. The store had a very musty, old book smell to it, although he had a feeling that the store was new.

Thump! (thumpthumpthumpthump)

Startled, Harry whipped his head around to the source of the noise. A shelf was turned over and a cloud of dust rained down. Books littered the floor every which way.

"Ahhh, Carrie! Not again! You need to be more careful down here. Get upstairs, now!"

Harry inhaled sharply. He knew that voice. That bossy voice that could be soothing at times that had scolded him throughout his Hogwarts career. The girl he had had dreams about to this day. "Hermione," he whispered breathlessly as she came out from a back room to clean up the books the small girl she had called Carrie had spilled.

Harry finally registered a little girl with long, very bushy flaxen blond hair sprawled on the floor near the upturned shelf. As Hermione walked into the room, the girl, Carrie, jumped up and scurried into the room that Hermione had come from. Hermione sighed and bent down over the books, gathering them in her arms. Her long hair formed a curtain over her face, so she couldn't see who was in her store. "I'll be with you in just a sec," she chuckled softly, "my daughter...I swear, it's a hobby of hers, creating chaos everywhere she goes.”

Harry blinked. Daughter? Store? Daughter...well, she had gotten married. It made since she would have had kids. But Harry felt almost...disappointed? Left out? Jealous? He wasn't entirely sure. Shaking himself out of his trance, he focused back on the present. Hermione had finished shelving books and turned to face him.

"Can I help you find something?" she asked, not recognizing him. It had been almost eleven years. His face and body had matured, mostly from the stress of war and being an auror. He was no longer the malnourished, scrawny boy of his youth. His hair was also longer now, being just above his shoulders. The glasses he now wore were rimless and square in shape instead of the round, wired ones he wore as a child.

"Hmm, I don’t know. Can you?" he cheekily replied.

"Harry Potter, is that you?" she ran over to him, stopped, looking as though she was about to hug him. Instead, she pulled her arm back and slapped him hard across his face.