Chapter Sixteen:
Closing the Circle
September 1, 2031
***
"Firs' years over 'ere!" called a gruff voice. "Ev'ryone 'ere? Righ', then. Folla me!"
Hagrid led the first-year students off the moonlit platform at Hogsmeade station and onto a descending path. Almost instantly they were wrapped in darkness, surrounded on all sides by dense trees. The only light came from the lantern Hagrid held out before him. This enabled him to see where to lead, but the students could scarcely discern any of the light, or the path it illuminated, past the bulk of Hagrid's broad back. Nevertheless, their eyes adjusted to the darkness rapidly, enabling them to see their path well enough; still, they trod with care through their unfamiliar surroundings, grateful to let Hagrid lead the way.
For his part, Hagrid stepped easily and swiftly, having trod the path so often as to know it as well as the four corners of his cabin. But overconfidence proved his undoing. A vole darted across his path without warning. In his eagerness to avoid squashing the tiny creature with his enormous feet, he attempted to use his momentum to leap forward and over the animal. However, as very little about Hagrid was suited for graceful leaping, the result was that he lost his balance and fell face forward with a wheezing grunt, his impact shaking leaves from the overhead branches as his lantern thudded to the ground and went out.
As Hagrid rose slowly, spitting dirt, a small, dark-haired boy appeared at his side.
"Are you okay, Hagrid?"
"Nuthin' teh worry 'bout, lad," Hagrid said, heaving himself up with a great whistling of breath. He placed a hand to his back, kneading the flesh with his mallet-like fist.
"You are hurt," the boy said with growing alarm.
"Nah," Hagrid scoffed, wiping dirt from his leather breeches. "Jus' ol' age. Been thinkin' 'bout retirin' after this year. Reckin it's past time."
The boy stared up at Hagrid in the darkness. It was true that there was an abundance of gray in Hagrid's once jet-black hair and beard, clearly discernable even in the lightless murk. But he was still not convinced.
"You don't look old enough to retire."
"Oh?" returned Hagrid, combing bits of leaves out of his beard with his fingers. "An' how old d'you reckin I am, then?"
The boy screwed up his face as he pondered the question.
"Erm...fifty?"
Hagrid threw back his shaggy head and laughed. The boy thought for a moment that he was being made fun of, but a quick glance at Hagrid's eyes revealed no derision, only genuine amusement.
"Lad," Hagrid said, wiping away a tear with the heel of his immense hand, "I'd give me weight in wizard gold t' be fifty again! Give up? A'righ', then. I'm a hunnerd 'n two!"
"You don't look it," the boy said honestly.
"Well, tha's yer wizardin' blood, innit?" Hagrid picked up the fallen lantern as he spoke, seemingly unconcerned at the abscnce of light. "Wizards live powerful long lives, lots longer'n Muggles. 'Course, stric'ly speakin', I'm on'y half a wizard."
"Really?" the boy said in surprise. "Which half?"
Hagrid stared open-mouthed for a moment, then bellowed with renewed laughter.
" 'At's a good'n, 'at is! 'Afta tell the lads at the Three Broomsticks, an' Madam Rosmerta, too! Ah, lad, yer a treasure, an' tha's a fact! I think you 'n me er gunna git 'long righ' fine!"
"Can we get a move on up there?" came an annoyed drawl from somewhere in the mass of milling students. Hagrid craned his neck for a moment, then scowled.
"You keep yer robes on, young Malfoy! I din' take no guff from yer dad ner gran'dad, an' I'll not take none from you!"
So saying, Hagrid straightened his shoulders as best he could (still favoring his back) and set off again down the path with a sureness as if the lamp swinging in his hand were still lighted.
The dark-haired boy remained at his side, jogging to match Hagrid's long, easy strides.
"Who was that boy?" he asked, nodding toward the students behind them.
"Dunno 'is firs' name," Hagrid said with undisguised rancor, "but 'e's a Malfoy, an' no mistakin' it. Got the same look as 'is dad. An' speakin' o' which, you seem ter know me righ' 'nuff. Lemme guess -- yer mum er yer dad wen' teh Hogwarts."
"Both," the boy said. "My dad told me all about you. Care of Magical Creatures was his favorite class."
"Tha' so?" Hagrid said, a satisfied look spreading over his face. "An' who's yer dad, then?"
"Andrew McKinnon."
"I rec'lect Andrew!" Hagrid said cheerfully. "Gryffindor -- class o' sixteen -- er was it seventeen? Loved all sorts o' animals, 'e did! Partic'larly fond o' hippogriffs, as I recall. How 'bout you, lad? What sort o' animals d' you like?"
"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "I've never seen any really interesting animals. But Dad says you'll show me creatures I've never seen or even read about!"
"Tha' I will," Hagrid said. "You mark me, young McKinnon, if yer anythin' like yer dad, you'll be spendin' lots o' yer free time down a' my cabin. An' you be sure teh drop in anytime, y'hear? My door's always open t' a McKinnon."
"Thanks," the boy said with a smile. "Only, if it comes to that, I'm not exactly a McKinnon. I mean, I am, but that's not my name."
"No?" said Hagrid curiously. "Are yer adopted, then?"
"No. My dad wanted me to have my mum's last name. To honor her dad, my granddad. I never knew him, though. He died a long time ago."
"Sorry teh hear tha'," Hagrid said with unfeigned compassion. "An' who's yer mum -- I mean, what was 'er name when she was a' school?"
"Jaime Potter."
Hagrid stopped as if he had hit a wall -- and the students behind him thought they had as they piled into his broad torso en masse.
"Sorry!" Hagrid called back. As he set off again, Hagrid gave the boy a strange look as he asked, "An' what's yer name, lad?" But even as he spoke, Hagrid knew there could be only one answer.
"Harry. Harry Potter. After my granddad."
Nothing more was said until the party reached the shore of the lake, emerging from the shadow of the trees into the brilliant light of a full moon. Hagrid instructed the students to enter the waiting boats. "No more'n four ter a boat, y'hear?" He himself lifted Harry into the nearest boat, and as he did so he got a close look at the dark-haired boy in the resplendent moonlight. Bright green eyes stared back at him, wide with a wonder Hagrid had seen before and remembered well.
"Hagrid," Harry said hesitantly as the giant set him in the boat, "is it true that you saved my granddad after his parents were killed?"
"Tha' I did," Hagrid said heavily, feeling a weight on his chest like a block of stone. "Tell yeh all 'bout it sometime. Now, off yeh go!"
"Did you know Voldemort, too?"
"Er, uh, yeh, kinda," Hagrid said uneasily. "An' don' say the name! Blimey, yer jus' like yer gran'dad!"
"Am I really?" Harry said eagerly, his eyes alight.
Hagrid climbed into his boat, and the small flotilla set off across the lake toward the looming spires and turrets of Hogwarts castle.
"I reckin," Hagrid muttered into his beard, "maybe I'll hol' off retirin' fer, oh, 'bout seven years er so."
He lifted his beetle-black eyes to the night sky, the stars blurring slightly from the tears suddenly dampening his cheeks.
"I'll watch after 'im fer yeh, Harry. But if 'e's anythin' like you, 'e'll be okay. Yessir, I reckin 'e'll do jus' fine!"
And the boats sailed under the arch and into the nurturing bosom of Hogwarts.
The End.
***
Author's Note:And so the circle closes. In the words of Gandalf (who may be a distant ancestor of Dumbledore), this story "Begins at an ending, and ends at a beginning." It just didn't seem right to leave the wizarding world without Harry Potter. Now, thanks to Jaime, Harry lives again. (He even has a Malfoy to plague him, as his granddad did. At least life at Hogwarts won't be boring.)
Note to all R/Hr shippers: This is the only such story I will ever write. My point has been made that I do not hate Ron. In fact, many of my upcoming stories will find Ron being downright heroic. I will always portray him as a good and loyal friend to Harry and Hermione -- who, henceforth and forever after, will be a couple in every story I write. Or should I say the couple!
Thanks to all who took the time to review, with a special note to SapphireWolf:
The answer to your question is found in Chapter 9. Voldemort accuses Harry of bluffing in his boast to have killed Lucius -- and Harry does not refute that claim. For Voldy is RIGHT -- Harry was too good and noble to kill an adversary in cold blood, no matter his Ministry sanction. Only when he knew he was dying did he take that last, hard road, since to leave Voldemort alive to threaten his wife and daughter was unthinkable. And without Harry to testify against him, Lucius walked free -- AGAIN! (If Barty Crouch Jr. hadn't had his soul sucked out, he would be positively LIVID!)
Maybe I was too subtle on that point. Hindsight being 20-20, I could as easily have used Draco as Lucius in Chapter 15. Still, it's good to know that some readers do take the time to examine such details minutely. I always work to assure that no smallest detail is overlooked, and reviewers like SapphireWolf prove that the effort is justified. And if something does slip by, let me know and I'll change it. After all, I don't have JK's editors to watch my backside. That's what reviews are for!
I hope some of you will tune in next time when the good ship Harry/Hermione resumes its journey under full sail. (Alas, the Ron/Hermione has gone the way of the Titanic. Does that make Ron Leonardo DiCaprio?)
And under threat of bodily harm from Fae Princess, I promise that Harry will NEVER DIE AGAIN! Of course, some other people might take the Dirt Nap in future. Only time, and my Muse, will tell. Until then, thanks for reading.
Note From Fae: And with that, I say Goodnight. See you in Stoneheart's next posted story! REVIEW!
Closing the Circle
September 1, 2031
"Firs' years over 'ere!" called a gruff voice. "Ev'ryone 'ere? Righ', then. Folla me!"
Hagrid led the first-year students off the moonlit platform at Hogsmeade station and onto a descending path. Almost instantly they were wrapped in darkness, surrounded on all sides by dense trees. The only light came from the lantern Hagrid held out before him. This enabled him to see where to lead, but the students could scarcely discern any of the light, or the path it illuminated, past the bulk of Hagrid's broad back. Nevertheless, their eyes adjusted to the darkness rapidly, enabling them to see their path well enough; still, they trod with care through their unfamiliar surroundings, grateful to let Hagrid lead the way.
For his part, Hagrid stepped easily and swiftly, having trod the path so often as to know it as well as the four corners of his cabin. But overconfidence proved his undoing. A vole darted across his path without warning. In his eagerness to avoid squashing the tiny creature with his enormous feet, he attempted to use his momentum to leap forward and over the animal. However, as very little about Hagrid was suited for graceful leaping, the result was that he lost his balance and fell face forward with a wheezing grunt, his impact shaking leaves from the overhead branches as his lantern thudded to the ground and went out.
As Hagrid rose slowly, spitting dirt, a small, dark-haired boy appeared at his side.
"Are you okay, Hagrid?"
"Nuthin' teh worry 'bout, lad," Hagrid said, heaving himself up with a great whistling of breath. He placed a hand to his back, kneading the flesh with his mallet-like fist.
"You are hurt," the boy said with growing alarm.
"Nah," Hagrid scoffed, wiping dirt from his leather breeches. "Jus' ol' age. Been thinkin' 'bout retirin' after this year. Reckin it's past time."
The boy stared up at Hagrid in the darkness. It was true that there was an abundance of gray in Hagrid's once jet-black hair and beard, clearly discernable even in the lightless murk. But he was still not convinced.
"You don't look old enough to retire."
"Oh?" returned Hagrid, combing bits of leaves out of his beard with his fingers. "An' how old d'you reckin I am, then?"
The boy screwed up his face as he pondered the question.
"Erm...fifty?"
Hagrid threw back his shaggy head and laughed. The boy thought for a moment that he was being made fun of, but a quick glance at Hagrid's eyes revealed no derision, only genuine amusement.
"Lad," Hagrid said, wiping away a tear with the heel of his immense hand, "I'd give me weight in wizard gold t' be fifty again! Give up? A'righ', then. I'm a hunnerd 'n two!"
"You don't look it," the boy said honestly.
"Well, tha's yer wizardin' blood, innit?" Hagrid picked up the fallen lantern as he spoke, seemingly unconcerned at the abscnce of light. "Wizards live powerful long lives, lots longer'n Muggles. 'Course, stric'ly speakin', I'm on'y half a wizard."
"Really?" the boy said in surprise. "Which half?"
Hagrid stared open-mouthed for a moment, then bellowed with renewed laughter.
" 'At's a good'n, 'at is! 'Afta tell the lads at the Three Broomsticks, an' Madam Rosmerta, too! Ah, lad, yer a treasure, an' tha's a fact! I think you 'n me er gunna git 'long righ' fine!"
"Can we get a move on up there?" came an annoyed drawl from somewhere in the mass of milling students. Hagrid craned his neck for a moment, then scowled.
"You keep yer robes on, young Malfoy! I din' take no guff from yer dad ner gran'dad, an' I'll not take none from you!"
So saying, Hagrid straightened his shoulders as best he could (still favoring his back) and set off again down the path with a sureness as if the lamp swinging in his hand were still lighted.
The dark-haired boy remained at his side, jogging to match Hagrid's long, easy strides.
"Who was that boy?" he asked, nodding toward the students behind them.
"Dunno 'is firs' name," Hagrid said with undisguised rancor, "but 'e's a Malfoy, an' no mistakin' it. Got the same look as 'is dad. An' speakin' o' which, you seem ter know me righ' 'nuff. Lemme guess -- yer mum er yer dad wen' teh Hogwarts."
"Both," the boy said. "My dad told me all about you. Care of Magical Creatures was his favorite class."
"Tha' so?" Hagrid said, a satisfied look spreading over his face. "An' who's yer dad, then?"
"Andrew McKinnon."
"I rec'lect Andrew!" Hagrid said cheerfully. "Gryffindor -- class o' sixteen -- er was it seventeen? Loved all sorts o' animals, 'e did! Partic'larly fond o' hippogriffs, as I recall. How 'bout you, lad? What sort o' animals d' you like?"
"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "I've never seen any really interesting animals. But Dad says you'll show me creatures I've never seen or even read about!"
"Tha' I will," Hagrid said. "You mark me, young McKinnon, if yer anythin' like yer dad, you'll be spendin' lots o' yer free time down a' my cabin. An' you be sure teh drop in anytime, y'hear? My door's always open t' a McKinnon."
"Thanks," the boy said with a smile. "Only, if it comes to that, I'm not exactly a McKinnon. I mean, I am, but that's not my name."
"No?" said Hagrid curiously. "Are yer adopted, then?"
"No. My dad wanted me to have my mum's last name. To honor her dad, my granddad. I never knew him, though. He died a long time ago."
"Sorry teh hear tha'," Hagrid said with unfeigned compassion. "An' who's yer mum -- I mean, what was 'er name when she was a' school?"
"Jaime Potter."
Hagrid stopped as if he had hit a wall -- and the students behind him thought they had as they piled into his broad torso en masse.
"Sorry!" Hagrid called back. As he set off again, Hagrid gave the boy a strange look as he asked, "An' what's yer name, lad?" But even as he spoke, Hagrid knew there could be only one answer.
"Harry. Harry Potter. After my granddad."
Nothing more was said until the party reached the shore of the lake, emerging from the shadow of the trees into the brilliant light of a full moon. Hagrid instructed the students to enter the waiting boats. "No more'n four ter a boat, y'hear?" He himself lifted Harry into the nearest boat, and as he did so he got a close look at the dark-haired boy in the resplendent moonlight. Bright green eyes stared back at him, wide with a wonder Hagrid had seen before and remembered well.
"Hagrid," Harry said hesitantly as the giant set him in the boat, "is it true that you saved my granddad after his parents were killed?"
"Tha' I did," Hagrid said heavily, feeling a weight on his chest like a block of stone. "Tell yeh all 'bout it sometime. Now, off yeh go!"
"Did you know Voldemort, too?"
"Er, uh, yeh, kinda," Hagrid said uneasily. "An' don' say the name! Blimey, yer jus' like yer gran'dad!"
"Am I really?" Harry said eagerly, his eyes alight.
Hagrid climbed into his boat, and the small flotilla set off across the lake toward the looming spires and turrets of Hogwarts castle.
"I reckin," Hagrid muttered into his beard, "maybe I'll hol' off retirin' fer, oh, 'bout seven years er so."
He lifted his beetle-black eyes to the night sky, the stars blurring slightly from the tears suddenly dampening his cheeks.
"I'll watch after 'im fer yeh, Harry. But if 'e's anythin' like you, 'e'll be okay. Yessir, I reckin 'e'll do jus' fine!"
And the boats sailed under the arch and into the nurturing bosom of Hogwarts.
The End.
Author's Note:And so the circle closes. In the words of Gandalf (who may be a distant ancestor of Dumbledore), this story "Begins at an ending, and ends at a beginning." It just didn't seem right to leave the wizarding world without Harry Potter. Now, thanks to Jaime, Harry lives again. (He even has a Malfoy to plague him, as his granddad did. At least life at Hogwarts won't be boring.)
Note to all R/Hr shippers: This is the only such story I will ever write. My point has been made that I do not hate Ron. In fact, many of my upcoming stories will find Ron being downright heroic. I will always portray him as a good and loyal friend to Harry and Hermione -- who, henceforth and forever after, will be a couple in every story I write. Or should I say the couple!
Thanks to all who took the time to review, with a special note to SapphireWolf:
The answer to your question is found in Chapter 9. Voldemort accuses Harry of bluffing in his boast to have killed Lucius -- and Harry does not refute that claim. For Voldy is RIGHT -- Harry was too good and noble to kill an adversary in cold blood, no matter his Ministry sanction. Only when he knew he was dying did he take that last, hard road, since to leave Voldemort alive to threaten his wife and daughter was unthinkable. And without Harry to testify against him, Lucius walked free -- AGAIN! (If Barty Crouch Jr. hadn't had his soul sucked out, he would be positively LIVID!)
Maybe I was too subtle on that point. Hindsight being 20-20, I could as easily have used Draco as Lucius in Chapter 15. Still, it's good to know that some readers do take the time to examine such details minutely. I always work to assure that no smallest detail is overlooked, and reviewers like SapphireWolf prove that the effort is justified. And if something does slip by, let me know and I'll change it. After all, I don't have JK's editors to watch my backside. That's what reviews are for!
I hope some of you will tune in next time when the good ship Harry/Hermione resumes its journey under full sail. (Alas, the Ron/Hermione has gone the way of the Titanic. Does that make Ron Leonardo DiCaprio?)
And under threat of bodily harm from Fae Princess, I promise that Harry will NEVER DIE AGAIN! Of course, some other people might take the Dirt Nap in future. Only time, and my Muse, will tell. Until then, thanks for reading.
Note From Fae: And with that, I say Goodnight. See you in Stoneheart's next posted story! REVIEW!