It had been nine years since the battle of hogwarts, nine years since Gabrielle's sister had returned shaking from a battle with monsters, she and her husband having visited France for a time to excape the memories. It had been nine years since magical britain, the last of the great wizarding aristocracies, had at last crumbled under the weight of revolution. It had fallen harder than most, having risen higher than any other it had experienced a correspondingingly cataclysmic fall. It had also been nine years since Harry potter had disappeared.
He was still in contact with his closest friends, family in truth, but none knew where he was. He had long since mastered concealment, and none would find him if he did not wish to be found. No one knew why he had left save those he had directly told, and those he had did not speak. Her sister was among them, Harry had been grateful for her and her husband's aid, and had maintained contact with them with the promise of aid should it ever be needed. Harry Potter held his own debts, if not those of others, and any who had aided him in his time of need could be assured that he would repay them. Gabrielle had once, in the midst of youthful infatuation, been dearly jealous of her sister and the debt Harry owed her, but no longer.
She had been obsessed with Harry ever since he pulled her from the Black lake of Hogwarts when she was 12. Her infatuation had only grown with time, and after the war she had been desperately excited to have a chance to meet him. Doing so had seen her obsession die.
He had not been cruel, nor unkind. He had done nothing to dissuade her, and in fact the truth of him had seemed objectively better than fiction. It was the aura around him. She had found him after the memorial, a brief gap in the celebrations, a chance to remember those that had fallen. They were there to remember the dead, but all present seemed only concerned with living free. She could not blame them, no one could. They had lived in terror, and now their terror was relieved. They were jubilant, all of them. All save one.
She had found Harry standing alone by a window, looking out to the horizon. She had not spoken to him, she had only witnessed his face in the reflection on the glass. That was enough. He remembered. Every moment, every face, every name. He remembered, and he bore their memory. He carried on his back the weight of the countless dead, and he stood unbowed by the burden. It had been a shock to her to see him there, calm in peace despite the weight upon him, yet the presence of him banished any childish crush she might have had. Harry was a true hero, and true heroes seldom had cause to smile.
She had felt foolish, her feelings to him seemed infantile. She had spoken to him, thanking him as others had, but apologizing as well. For what she hadn't been sure, but looking back she knew it was because she was sorry that she didn't have the strength to help bear the load. She had left then, and she had changed. Gone was the child, and she was filled with determination. She had spent her every waking moment in pursuit of the strength to bear those burdens. Harry had inspired her, and she sought to make a world where no one had to be like him ever again. A world where no one bore the memories alone. She had lost herself along the way. She had spent so much time working towards her life that she forgot to live. It was what lead her here.
She was in a train station in the middle of the French countryside, twenty-one and already oh so weary. Her best friend, her last friend, had not spoken to her in two months. There had been no fight, there had been nothing at all. Gabrielle had just, stopped asking at some point. Her friend had not pursued her, Gabi had never given her a reason to do so.
She wandered the station disconsolately, despairing at the road she had taken. That was when she found him. He was standing on the platform, dressed in jeans, boots, and a brown canvas jacket, a backpack by his feet, Harry Potter.
He had found her, calling her out from the crowd, and she had come. He had looked at her with a soft, sad smile and a twinkle in his eye , and he had asked why she had no reason to smile. She had no answer, and tears had slipped down her cheeks. Harry had taken her hand in his and beckoned her to follow. They got aboard a train, a cargo train, and had settled down in an old shipping container. She had not asked where she was going, she had not asked why she was there, she had asked only one thing.
"Who are you Harry Potter?"
He had spoken softly as he guided her on to better places unknown, his eyes radiating peace and his smile radiating wisdom.
"I'm just the station man."
The idea for this is that Harry has sought peace on the railways of Europe. A wandering wise man doing all he can to help others to the peace he has found, he walks the rails and rides the trains and helps those in need. He encounters Gabrielle one day, worn down form the life she chose, and offers a hand and a smile, leading her on to better things just as he has so many others.
I imagine Harry gravitates to trains after the peace he found in the crossroads of Kings Cross Station, and now he helps others to peace on the rails as well. He doesnt do it in england for the sole reason that Gabi doesn't live there, and that makes it harder to get them together.