BOOK I: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

CHAPTER XIV: Sooner or later

It wasn't a long way back, Harry thought. The distance between the Alley and its marvelous discoveries and the dreaded return to his routine at Privet Drive wasn't really a journey. If anything, it stretched only long enough for Harry to absorb how greatly he'd miss Hagrid's company. He had learned more about himself in a day aside that giant than he had through those everlasting ten years with the Dursleys.

"Will I see you again after this?" asked Harry crestfallen, carrying some of his new belongings in sacks, as they passed around the public library where everything began. Rubeous smiled reassuringly.

"Well, 'course, lad! I forgot to tell, I'm Hogwarts' gamekeeper, and you'll be seeing me quite often during the term!"

"Gamekeeper?"

"Well, let's just say your new school happens to be in a much… forested area. I keep the place looking sharp for a living. I love it, actually; outdoors, you know," he added quickly, taking in the evening air.

"For how long have you been doing this?"

"Sometimes it feels like I've been doing it my entire life. Started doing it even before I left school," he said shortly.

Harry felt somewhat stupid: it was only now he realized Rubeous should've had magical education just as much as he was about to have. The whole idea still seemed a bit intangible, in many ways: sure, what kid wouldn't love to know he could do all sorts of amazing things? But then again, in a world like Harry's, how many kids would truly believe it?

"Term starts at September 1st. You have to take this," said Rubeous, handing Harry a small blank card, "to King's Cross Train Station. You'll know your way around from there."

"Yeah, sure," said Harry, still puzzled by the lack of information in the card, "there's just this tiny little problem of getting there. Will you be taking me?" he asked, and there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"As much as I'd like to, lad, afraid that can't be done," said the giant, and this time he was the crestfallen one. "There are tons of preparations to accommodate all of you, and I'll be quite busy with some of those. You can always ask your uncle to get you there," he continued matter-of-factly. Harry could only laugh.

"You do remember who my uncle is, don't you?"

"Sure thing. Big fat bloke, horrid mustache, thinks the world of the little whale he calls son?"

"The very same."

"Ah, Harry, you're worried he won't agree to take you?" retorted Hagrid, comprehension crossing his mind.

"Rubeous, I'm not even sure how I'm about to break them the news of another school. Thinking about it, I don't think they'll take that well… they won't have it at all!"

"Like if they have anything to say about that. They ought to be quite aware you'd get Hogwarts' letter eventually."

"What?"

"Harry, lad… your aunt knew very well of your mother being a witch, as much as she denies the fact. She knew of James too. She didn't have to be exactly Nobel-material to put the dots together and figure out there'd be a chance of you making a wizard of yourself someday!"

Harry stopped in his tracks. He didn't know what to make of this piece of information: he knew his aunt was quite capable of keeping things to herself (she had a lifetime of training with Vernon Dursley and his rudeness beyond boundaries, after all), but to think she could've had a glimpse of indication, a simple sign of this… inheritance of sorts, and never said a thing about it? It was a bit preposterous, even to her standards.

"But you said," began Harry, "you said that if they knew they'd try and hurt me, or use me."

"Haven't they already done that along the years, in a similar fashion? And that's not exactly what I said. No, I said they would do that…" he began, allowing Harry to finish the sentence by himself.

Unless they were afraid of me. Of what I could do to them.

"Don't give it all too much thought, lad, not yet," said Hagrid playfully, continuing to walk. "You're still young, untrained, and there is an infinity of things that could go wrong if you tried to hex the idiots. Specially considering how ignorant and limited they are. You never know what kind of Paradox you can get with people like that around. 'Sides, once you've received a letter from a magical school, you're… what's the word again? Contract-bound to restrict your usage of magic to the area inside your school ground until you become of age."

"Meaning I get to learn it, but I don't get to use it?" retorted Harry suspiciously.

"Kind of strange, isn't it? It's not that you can't do anything. We can't control you any better than we can control any eleven-years-old: there are certain situations in which you'd be allowed to use it, even, but there are many ways of discovering if you're out and about setting cousins on fire," said the giant winking, laughing as Harry's eyes shot out of the sockets in fear, "and there are consequences to it that I don't think you'll want to find out."

The severity didn't quite suit Hagrid's voice. Harry took it as a sign of how serious this matter was and made no further comment in that direction.

They didn't have much time left for conversation either. Privet Drive, Number 4, was just a few steps ahead.

"Damn, boy, if anything you can always make a living of planning landscapes," said Hagrid whistling, as he observed the neat lawn.

"Thanks, I suppose. So this is it, then?" he asked in return, eyes lost in the lights coming from the house. Aunt Petunia would be probably cursing his absence in the making of lunch and supper, and he knew this probably would earn him some punishment. It wasn't usual for him to disappear for a whole day like that. It would not go unseen.

Rubeous seemed to read him right through.

"Oh, we're not quite done for the day, Harry. There's just one tiny little thing I have to take care of," he said, handing Harry the few bags he still held and making his way calmly for the door. Harry panicked, going after him.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, looking sideways terrified with the possibility of any neighbor spotting the giant by the front steps. It seemed his relatives' fear of gossip and rumoring had intoxicated him to a certain extent.

"Just going to have a little talk with them, that's all," said the enormous man, reaching for the doorbell. He was at least a head higher than the door. Harry figured there was no point in stopping him. "Hell, I might as well go with the current now," he thought, sadly. From inside, the boy could distinguish the approaching sound of his cousin's voice.

"You should beat him senseless this time, dad. Who does he thi…"

When he opened the door, Dudley's voice faltered to the sight of Rubeous. There wasn't intimidation in his returning stare, nor was it required. It seemed at this point to Harry that his companion had an intimidating aura to him that was easily turned on and off at his will. It was but his presence that made him monolithic, unbreakable. And Dudley, not as confident as a second before, did what he judged to be most prudent: ran his way back screaming, not even realizing Harry was there to begin with.

"MOOOOOTHER!"

"You'd figure he'd go for 'mommy', not 'mother'. I must be losing my touch," whispered Hagrid between his teeth, in that thoughtful expression Harry considered hilarious. It didn't take long for the rest of the Dursleys to approach the door carefully.

Vernon Dursley was not a man easily intimated, but even he was obligated to take a step back at the sight of his front door: his barely-tolerable nephew and a man larger than he was, and this was not something you'd see everyday. Processing the scene as fast as he could, Vernon figured the man didn't dress in the manners of the police, but it was the only justified reason for Harry's disappearance that day. He had done something wrong.

"Can I help you, officer?" he said, gathering as much strength as he could.

"Officer?" started Hagrid confused, looking back at Harry, who shrugged in response. "Oh, you mean like police? No, no, I'm nothing of the sort. My name is Rubeous Hagrid, sir. I'm just here to discuss some things about Harry with you."

"What sort of things?" said Petunia. The whereabouts of Harry during the day didn't seem as important as rushing that abomination out of their house. Behind her, peeking at everything around her waist was Dudley, his mean eyes darting at Harry, probably angry for making a fool out of himself.

"Well", said the giant lowering his head to enter the house, though still uninvited, "for starters, how negligent you've grown to be with his education. Moreover," he added, signing so that Harry would follow him and he could close the door, "how you lied to him about the death of his parents."

Vernon was still too offended by the stranger's trespassing to actually pay any attention to what Hagrid was saying. It took him a minute or so to recover, his mouth hung open.

"What do you mean, lied? And… why would his education be any of your business?" he hissed. Obviously, he figured he couldn't force the man out, and screaming would only get his neighbors around, something he did not wish it AT ALL.

"It has to be someone's business," started Hagrid, eying the man before him with fury, although his words didn't give any of it away, "and since you people seem to have – not so politely, I might add – declined on the responsibility, you should know some aren't ready to make the same mistake."

Harry took a step back, admiring the scene: this was the highest of tension that Privet Drive had witnessed (including the night when the Tevenele's older daughter ran away pregnant with her boyfriend, screaming to the world how dumb and narrow-minded her father was), he was sure of it. Petunia and Vernon looked at each other, and then locked eyes with their nephew. He was sure they weren't pleased with this disturbance in their quiet little life. They weren't accustomed to being harassed in their territory. They had never looked at him like this, and he had earned some terrifying 'looks' over the years. Hagrid noticed and simply whistled, drawing the Dursleys' attention back to his immense figure.

"I don't seem to think we took any errors while raising this prat," said Vernon in defiance, gathering his guts. "If anything, we did as much as we could, considering he was dumped at our front st..."

"I'd be very, very cautious with my next words if I were you," interrupted the giant in return. This time he wasn't interested in hiding his anger: Harry didn't really mind about his uncle's harsh words. He discarded them as easily as kicking a leaf to the air. The only thing that mattered, the one thing he was glad about, was that Rubeous' stare wasn't addressed at him, or he would've started running for his life now. The Dursleys weren't as smart, apparently.

"You'd be even more cautious," he added, "considering I was the one who brought him to you." He rolled the ring in his middle finger with his thumb, tentatively, ignoring Harry's bewilderment to this statement. It made sense, though, that if the giant had rescued him, it would be him to make the 'delivery' back then… he returned his attention to Rubeous' speech, trying not to imagine his reception at that house around a decade ago.

"I, for one, was completely against the idea of Harry being raised by people as limited and stupid as you are." Either the insults weren't kicking in or Vernon, Petunia and Dudley were far too terrified to make any retorts. "If I knew back then… if anyone knew back then… I'm sure things would've turned out differently and probably for the best."

Vernon mustered an answer, again interrupted. Hagrid's voice was a bit louder than it was before.

"I suppose you didn't pay any heed to the letter attached to Harry's blankets ten years ago. I don't suppose you spared a glance further than you needed to it. You were inattentive and irresponsible when a life other than yours was concerned. I'm here today to make sure this will not happen again. And mark my words: you… will not… wish me to come back here."

He punctuated that sentence in such a way that the floor itself seemed to tremble. Dudley forgot all his excuses for trying to look courageous and dashed for his bedroom crying. Petunia made a move as to protect his escape, but stood by her husband as soon as the boy was rushing clumsily upstairs. Harry wanted to laugh, but couldn't put together a smile: he was still deeply familiarized with what could happen if he did.

Hagrid had touched the Dursleys' Achilles' heel, though: the boy knew they wouldn't want another visit like this. If the giant never came back, it wouldn't be soon enough, if their wishes meant anything.

"Are you… are you one of them, then?"

It was aunt Petunia who spoke this time.

Silence held her words: uncle Vernon looked at his wife as if she had blasphemed, eying Hagrid and the boy beside him afterwards in amazement. Rude amazement. He was putting the pieces together. He remembered the few stories Petunia refused to repeat about her sister. It couldn't be…

Harry knew exactly what she meant by that. He also realized the question was rhetorical in essence just as much: she knew the answer very well, she had to. This angered him beyond restrictions: so it was all true. His parents, their deaths. She knew. She had always known. And never said a damn thing about it.

"How could you?" he caught himself asking, his fist tight as a stone. She didn't seem shook by his answer, even though her body shivered (probably out of disgust).

"How could I not? It was our decision to make, our house." At this, she locked eyes with Hagrid, almost menacingly. "And YOU all, who deem yourselves so important, left him with us. US! So you're better off leaving my house right now! Let us be!"

Rubeous was a bit surprised by her bravery, Somehow, the valiant genes that Lilian possessed didn't seem to be completely lost in her sister.

"You're tough, I'll give you that. Tougher than that excuse for a husband of yours," he said, pointing at Vernon's angered, purple face. "But you're in no position for demands. If you know… who I am, as you said it, you know I'm not easily pushed around."

When his last word crossed the gap between them, the hearth suddenly sparked ablaze.

Much happened in a fraction of seconds. Petunia shrieked, taking two steps back, her hands covering her scream. And Vernon, afraid but gathering every last drop of courage he still had, motioned for a cabinet not far from where he stood. He retrieved an old and battered shotgun from it, the one he constantly boasted about. Too many times Harry wondered how it was that Dudley, a moron as he could be, never managed to cause an accident with that weapon, accessible as it always was. True, it was loaded with salt pellets, but still…

A mad smile filled Vernon's face. Harry tried to say something but Rubeous stopped him, standing between the gun and the boy. During that entire day he hadn't looked as calm as now.

"Now," started Vernon, the cold sweat added to that caused by the newfound heat from the flames in a summer day, "now you will leave this house and you won't come back. I don't want to hear any bullshit about this idiot's future ever again. He'll do as we say," said his uncle, flipping angrily the slide back and forth as he stared furiously at Harry, but aimed for Hagrid in center chest, "and head where we want him to."

"I'm afraid this will not suffice for me," was Rubeous' response.

There they stood, in that terrifying display. Seconds turned into minutes as uncle Vernon's head played with the possibilities. He could always claim the lunatic broke into their house and tried to steal from them. It was more than enough justification to fill him with some salt loads. And that knucklehead of his nephew ought to play along, unless he wanted some of ol' Vernon's aim to himself. He decided for it, thinking faster than he was used to.

"Petunia, get the police. If he tries anything I'll shoot him."

"You will not shoot me. And you," said Hagrid, staring at Harry's petrified aunt, "sure enough, will not call the cops."

"O-ho! We won't now? Why is that?" bellowed Vernon, leveling the shotgun to his shoulder. Hagrid merely laughed. It did nothing to soothe Dursley's mood.

"Well, we can always count on your fear of scandals, can't we? You will not put yourself to the trouble of explaining to your entire street what was it that was so appealing in your house that caused a man like me to rob it. Besides, you call them, they arrest me, I escape, I come back… not that it wouldn't be somewhat fun, but I'm tired and simply not up to it. Besides… you don't have the guts to shoot me… fatty."

Right there Harry knew that Rubeous had crossed the line. Not that his uncle wasn't an outright coward sometimes (and sure enough, a portrait of Dudley's future belly), but to have it thrown in his face was something he would not ignore. Harry screamed and tried to push Hagrid out of the way, but it wasn't enough: Vernon had pulled the trigger already.

And all that was heard was a sound 'click'.

No gun blast, no shot.

"Oh, yeah," continued the giant, in a swift movement taking the shotgun into his own hands, to Vernon's desperation. Hagrid seemed to find it all too amusing. "Even if you did have the courage… I took the liberty of messing up with the trigger's hammer. This stupid thing won't shoot again," he said, tossing it by the couch. The flames died out in the hearth almost at the same time. Hagrid rested his hands on the pockets before continuing. Both Vernon and Petunia seemed too nervous to react anymore. They didn't even want to discuss how exactly the giant tampered with the weapon without touching it. Complacently, they heard:

"I consider myself patient, Dursleys. But make no mistake, I have my limits. As of now you're done mistreating Harry. You have a lot to make up for."

"What do you…?"

"I am not finished! He has made a choice of secondary school, one that, I'm sure, would be endorsed by his parents. Far from any filthy one you might have considered for him. He must be at King's Cross station by the first day of September, as the day begins… midnight, I mean, so he can make his way to that school. He will have a choice of returning home for Christmas, although I'm pretty sure will prefer not to. Until then, and for the remaining time he shall spend with you from now on, he is to be treated with respect and dignity."

"Or…?" defied Vernon, still shaking a bit.

"And here I was thinking you wouldn't be dumb enough to ask, Dursley."

He was at least smart enough not to wait for an answer. "Now," said Rubeous finally, reaching for the doorknob, "Harry, I need a quick word with you. And remember Vernon… I will be watching. Goodbye," he added, closing the door behind them, leaving a very distressed couple to their thoughts, their son making his way downstairs as he heard the click of the door.

"That was incredible," said Harry. He was more grateful for Hagrid's welfare than for the lesson he taught his relatives.

"Nothing to it. Just remember, King's Cross, September 1st. I'll be waiting for you at Hogwarts." He extended his hand quite formally, but his eyes betrayed him… Harry knew this was a sad depart for him as well, somehow.

"I'll be there. And Rubeous… thank you. This has been the best birthday ever. The only one I can call a birthday, really."

Those words tore the giant. He maintained his composure, however. "You're welcome. It was a nice break from routine, alright. I'll be seeing you, Harry."

"Yeah… see you."

The boy watched as the giant made his way down Privet Drive. Maybe it was a trick of light, maybe it wasn't, but as he reached the corner he vanished completely from sight. Harry stood there, looking at the now empty horizon. The same horizon that had challenged so many times before to follow his own steps into the unknown.

"I guess that 'someday' came after all."

He entered the house quietly. His relatives were all gone, probably to their bedrooms, and the weapon was nowhere to be seen. He considered this a gift, in fact. Maybe it had been far too much for them to confront anymore that night. Harry noticed, relieved, that his uniform and other purchases were still untouched. He took everything back to his little 'sanctuary', using whatever room he had left to accommodate it all.

Completely peaceful, and happier than he had ever been, Harry closed his eyes to a dreamless sleep. Though not before admiring his gleaming dagger once more and looking up to where the stars should be, somewhere above the house, far across the universe. He thought of his parents. He heard them in his head…

Happy birthday, Harry.

PERSONAL NOTES: I'm still feeling a bit unsure about these dialogues. You know that feeling you have when you think you left something important behind (like going to work without your pants… not that I ever did that, of course)? Anyway, I kind of liked the overall feeling to it, and I hope it reflects on your reading. If it doesn't, feel free to talk about it and make suggestions too.

To AchillesMonkey, thanks for the heads-up on my mistake. And believe me or not, the idea for the scissors came to me because I was thinking exactly along these lines… I mean, how ridiculous would it be for Voldemort or someone else to go all "kneel before me!" with that thing in the hand… I'm still thinking about assigning it to someone, though… then again, who could it be? Thanks for the support, and as for the reviews, I'm quite content with those I got so far, :)

To Barefoot Bohemian, thanks for the kind words, I'll try and keep the rate of updates for as long as I can (muses do have the tendency of coming and going as they see fit, the wild ones). Hey… it kind of hit me now. You sign "BB", that by coincidence are the same initials for "Breaking Benjamin", the band whose song inspired the name of this chapter. And that's for you kids to see that staying in front of a computer for too long gets you to see things…

I really need to get some sleep.

Hope to hear from you soon.