The Past…
All Hagrid ever did, it seemed to himself, was cry and blubber and weep. He was always too late to matter whenever it mattered most.
And he was never the one to pay the most. Instead, the price was always paid by a good friend.
Myrtle. Aragog. James, Lily, Cedric, Sirius, Charity.
Now, Harry.
The moment he watched Harry willingly die, with a look of such ambivalent resignation, Hagrid fell apart.
He howled, at Voldemort for daring to murder that gentle, sweet boy, his good friend.
He bellowed at the damned Death Eaters for cheering on such a tragedy, as if it were a quidditch match and not a cowardly murder.
He wailed at himself for not being enough. For failing Harry, when it mattered most, like he'd failed all of his good friends.
He almost fell, like Harry did, but those enchanted chains were the only things that kept him standing. He tried to move, to reach, to do something , but those damnable chains yanked him right back.
Bloody MacNair, couldn't stop gloating about his "so-special" chains, boosted further by his Lord.
Just for a half-breed monster, like him. Leaving Hagrid stuck in place on a leash, flailing and floundering all around. About as useful as a bowtruckle with a beater bat, he was.
Proving his point, when it mattered, Hagrid didn't.
All he could do was cry and blubber and weep. All he could ever do was cry and blubber and weep.
It was the same when he was expelled. When he lost his Da. When he lost his Mum.
He cried and blubbered and weeped.
It was the same during the first Blood War. It was the same when he found James and Lily, when he delivered Baby Harry to Dumbledore, to those wretched Dursleys.
He cried and blubbered and weeped, and then cried and blubbered and weeped some more.
When he had to give up Norberta. When his expulsion was reversed and his wand were restored.
Crying and blubbering and weeping.
When Cedric Diggory was murdered for being in the wrong place at the right time.
When Sirius Black was murdered, for trying to be in right place at the wrong time.
When Albus Dumbledore was murdered, for believing in the wrong person at the wrong time.
More crying, more blubbering, more weeping.
Hagrid was never the right person or in the right place. All he ever did was get there too late to help but right on time to witness.
All he ever did was cry and blubber and weep.
It was maddening. It was agonizing, it was devastating.
He had believed the moment when he ran toward the tower only to find the Headmaster strewn on the rubble, eyes open but lacking their permanent sparkle, was the worst.
He was so very wrong.
Life was so very wrong, without Harry in it.
Hagrid still remembered that moment when he had first met Harry. He was just a wee baby then. Lily offered to let him hold him. At first, Hagrid was just so afraid; he knew just how strong he was, what his hands do to things a lot more sturdy than a baby.
But Lily just smiled, shaking her head with that brilliantly knowing look of hers.
She held Harry to him again. "I trust you,"
Hagrid could only blink at her.
And then both Harry and Lily simply looked at him with their matching emerald gazes filled with the blessed warmth of a spring day, synchronized raised brows as if to say "well?"
Hagrid had nothing more to say after that. He cried and blubbered and weeped, but they both just smiled at him knowingly.
Hagrid was so surprised. But he really should've known better.
Even though Harry was the spitting image of his Da, his compassion, his heart was all sweet Spring Lily. It literally shined out of his eyes, like it was too much for his little body to hope to contain.
From that moment, Harry Potter became more than just a student or a friend's child or a hero or even destiny's child to Hagrid. Simply what Harry always was, is and always will be was a good friend.
He had never felt so full.
Now, he had never felt so empty.
When they handed him Harry to carry back, he almost collapsed at the sight of his good friend.
The wounds, the disgrace. What made it worse was the gleeful smirks on the face of those who obviously did this. So proud to be less than the lowest feral beasts of the Forest. It horrified and disgusted him.
All Hagrid could do was hold Harry close to him, those sweet spring eyes no longer warm but vacant. Empty. Lifeless. Like him.
Just like them both.
Hagrid stood there, listening to that damn snake face demon brag about happily killing his good friend, and felt the first stirring of something beyond decimating grief.
When he heard Neville's sheer defiance, his rallying cry to stand up for Harry once more that was more than answered by the roar of his fellow students, he felt it even more.
When Neville slayed that evil serpent before turning his attention to the Death Eaters, invigorating the rest of the rebels, that feeling within only grew.
The Death Eaters seemed taken aback by the defiant fervor of the Hogwarts defenders. They appeared to be slightly shaken.
But it only further galvanized Hagrid.
He felt a firestorm igniting within. A wildly raw flame flaring to light, rippling beneath his surface.
One of Voldemort's thugs, a Selwyn, or someone even less important, perhaps, thought he could change things, demoralize the suddenly antagonistic crowd, by further desecrating Harry's body. He rapidly fired hexes toward Harry, the body pulsing with blood and scars with every hit.
A few of his compatriots felt the need to join him.
"Is this your bloody chosen one?!" He screamed at those who dared to resist his Master. "Is this your Boy Who Lived!" He cackled with glee at every flinch, pleading lament and agonized reaction of Harry's friends, especially his closest.
Hagrid included, who fought his chains with all he was, all to no avail.
It didn't work as intended, though. It only infuriated the defenders further.
At that moment, Hagrid heard a sound that resembled one he heard before, deep in the wilds of Wales one summer. A beautiful noise. A terrible noise. His eyes widened.
Hagrid frantically sought the source of that sound of terrible beauty. Shocked when he saw it was Hermione, sweet Hermione, who had somehow unleashed a terribly beautiful scream that sounded a lot more like a Welsh Green dragoness than a teenage witch, before unfurling a surge of wild magic that caused the little gang to scatter in fear but not before some were hit head on, never to move again.
She roared again, then charged toward Harry, her follow up spell work during her blitz forward was all ruthlessly vindictive with a double helping of vicious creativity as well. The thugs were no match, falling with agonized wails that provoked a dark smile of vicarious satisfaction to form on Hagrid's face.
Hagrid saw some of their surviving compatriots rallying to turn toward her and that was it. A booming tumultuous roar exploded from him now, absolutely silencing both sides, but Hagrid paid them no mind.
For the first time, Hagrid enthusiastically embraced his Giant blood. It gave him the strength to absolutely shatter those "so-special" chains like they were made of parchment.
With a rush, Hagrid appeared in front of Harry, shielding him from the fiendish thug in a blink, and rumbled warningly. The thug goggled for a bit then snarled. He raised his wand, the telltale green glow already forming on the tip.
Hagrid grabbed the thug's arm, yanking that thug into the air like a raggedy doll. His fierce grip crumbled the thug's arm like kindling. He glared at the thug, who could only cry and blubber and weep.
With a roar, Hagrid reared back and smashed his titanic fist into the face of the thug. As his large knuckles utterly pulverized every bone in the thug's face, one that dared look upon Harry with contempt, Hagrid felt nothing but a savage joy dancing in tune with a fiery wrath that will happily burn down everyone deemed enemy this day.
The sheer force of that sent most of the thug's broken body tumbling lifelessly through the air before crashing into a gaggle of his inbred cousins. The thug's arm remained in Hagrid's vise like grasp, blood dripping from the torn socket.
Hagrid was known as a gentle giant to those who knew him, but there was nothing gentle about the look on his face.
Some on both sides recoiled, believing he'd lost it, his giant half, triggering his berserker rage making him a danger to alll. But a few knew better, knew his rage was all too human, because it all too shared.
Hagrid felt Hermione's steady hand on his bloodied wrist. They nodded at one another before he looked up again at the staring crowds on both sides.
"Never," he roared, eyes ablaze with that rampaging berserker's fury, yet harnessed and tempered by an overflowing broken hearted grief into a deadly purposeful focus. "ever insult Harry Potter, in front of me!"
… The Present:
It wasn't until they cleared the Forest proper that Harry could finally see Hogwarts, but wished he never did.
It took all he had to stay upright, if only barely. Distantly, he felt his legs almost wobble, his knees start to buckle, but he managed, straightening with a live wire's worth of overwrought turmoil lodged in his spine.
The castle was Harry's home; it was the place where he first learned to dream. Now, it looked like a nightmare come to life; scarred with ruptured gashes and scorched cracks marring it all.
Gods, there were even gaping holes in the tower walls. The old boathouse was reduced to rubble.
The Great Lady looked grievously wounded, about as done in as he was.
Harry fell to his knees, tears pouring down his face, a silent scream fixed frozen on his face.
It was like experiencing the wrecked cottage in Godric's Hollow all over again.
Except even more so.
Maybe because he didn't truly remember living there with his parents, it merely represented a life he could've had, should've lived.
But he had lived at the Castle. He had died at the Castle too.
This was way worse than Godric's Hollow, Harry decided.
Like seeing his mother lying dead, with their shared shade of shiny greens staring upward all empty next to his crib, worse.
Harry heard a stifled whimper; it took a moment for him to realize it was him. He could feel his heart break in his chest, shattering into bits of jagged dust.
Harry's mouth moved, swallowing, struggling to form words. "Wha- What happened here, Kreacher."
Kreacher looked at him kindly. "War happened, Young Master." They looked toward the broken castle again.
"But- but it looks…" Harry absently pointed at the desolation.
Kreacher sighed, eyes misters as he drew on the memory. "The defenders fought as hard as they could for as long as they would. But, they were forced to retreat. The Dark One's forces,"Kreacher grimaced, then spat on the ground. "Tried to take the castle for their Lord, but it seems they ran into something of a problem."
Kreacher grinned then with a savage joy not to dissimilar to Sirius whenever he recalled a good prank. "After the battle, the castle used the spent magic, the pain, the sacrifices. It sealed the wards to all who follow the Dark One."
Kreacher's grin turned sinister. "It took so many failures by the Dark One's various minions before they slinked away into the night, craven tails tucked between their legs." Kreacher nodded toward the castle, the formidable doors locked tight. "Hogwarts has been in lockdown ever since."
Harry looked at the Castle. "I see." He took in the area with Kreacher's word's helping him to contextualize what he's seeing.!)3 turned back then. "And what exactly happened to those failures, by the way?"
Kreacher's sly chuckle reminded Harry of Sirius once more. "Oh, young master, they are… around." He gestured at the grounds, where Harry could begin to make out some suspicious looking piles resembling ash, possibly bits of bone as well. His eyes widened. He looked back at Kreacher, whose vicious grin of confirmation would've been unsettling if Harry didn't ultimately feel the same.
Good riddance.
Kreacher paused thoughtfully. "If Kreacher recalls correctly, Young Master. The ones who survived their attempted trespass had their Magic forcibly stripped. That settled it."
Harry snorted. "Fitting." He looked toward the Castle again and bowed deeply. "Good one, dear lady." He felt the Castle's pride in response, Kreacher concurring both sentiments.
As he stood back up, Harry noticed an odd piece of metal sticking out of the ground. He furrowed his brow, curiosity getting the best of him. The moment he reached over and touched, it was all Harry could do to scream silently as some strange magic took him for a ride.
Somehow, he had been sucked back in the past, in vividly full 3D with surround sound. It was like a memory but not quite.
Harry saw Hagrid, then.
He saw his anguish, his regret. Saw him being held by some of the very chain he found a piece of. Saw the gentlest, kindest soul Harry ever known use his inhuman strength to shatter that chain, then do the same to any Death Eater who crossed his path.
Just to avenge Harry.
Rather, to protect Harry, even there was nothing left of him but an empty vacant shell.
Harry felt so cherished.
He saw Neville.
Saw him find himself, his purpose, his resolve. Saw Neville claim that Sword, and still find a moment to honor Harry as best as he could.
Harry felt so respected.
Then, he saw Hermione.
She was breathtaking, mesmerizing, but hurting. It was her but more so. She was more than just a warrior witch, she was those stories of old, like a Valkyrie or an archangel even. Harry could only watch as she ripped through hoards of dark wizards trying to get to him, his body at least.
It was all so very Hermione, so brilliant, so powerful, so beautiful, yet so sad. She was just… so. Harry felt so… adored, might be the word.
Harry couldn't tear his eyes away.
He really missed her. He missed them all. Harry could only close his eyes, his heart and soul just wrecked.
Finally, mercifully, the surprise experience abruptly ended. Harry quickly dropped the broken piece like it were scalding, he stumbled back, collapsing into a heap on the grounds, shaking like a leaf. He could barely breathe, barely think.
Kreacher tried to reach him, but Harry gestured for him for some space, needing to get himself together. His eyes danced all over, he was sucking down air like a drowning victim.
That was different. it felt like a more aggressive Pensieve experience, or when Riddle's diary had shared a memory with him.
But was it real? Part of him hoped not.
Finally, after remastering himself, Harry turned to Kreacher, wanting to, needing to speak. To say something. Anything.
Kreacher's face shone with such naked concern. "Young Master?"
Harry looked away for a beat. "I'm- I'm fine." Both could hear the lie for what it was, but let it go. "I'm okay, for now."
Harry looked up at the castle once more, feeling those vivid memories again. He stared at those spots, now seeing the stories behind some of the castle's wounds and tears. He released a shuddering breath.
At Kreacher's narrowed glance, Harry felt a small chuckle bubble free. He so looked like Hermione just then. Ironically, it helped. "Yeah, yeah." Harry sighed, deciding to stop deflecting. "I'll- I'll be okay, in a bit."
Kreacher nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. "That will do, young master." A slight smile flickered across his face.
Harry dipped his head appreciatively. He looked around the grounds again. Then looked away and sighed, knowing what he needed to ask but dreading it all the same. Harry steeled himself then turned toward Kreacher.
Kreacher looked back with a tilted head. "Young master?"
"Kreacher. I- I- I have to know." Harry swallowed. "I- How… How many did we.."
Kreacher let go a slow breath, as if keeping himself in the here and now. He looked at Harry with such a solaced solemnity. "Too many, young master."
Harry gulped again. He gritted his teeth, feeling an angry, frustrated tear rolling down his cheek. He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate, choking on his words. "They- why- just kids. Why- we- they- who- they fought-"
"They did what they could, young Master. For what they, we, believed in, what you believed in. We could do no less." Kreacher seemed solemnly proud. His contentment was palpable, it touched Harry, reassured him some.
Harry's voice lowered. "Then-at the center, it- it really was- Dumble- Dumbledore's Army-"
"Potter's Army, Master Harry." Kreachers pride shines even brighter then, reminding Harry of some of the war veterans he'd seen around Surrey, whenever they remembered their comrades. "We be Potter's Army, now."
Harry nodded absently. He raised the broken link in his reddened palm, realizing the truth. "So, then, that vision…"
Kreacher peered at him. "Vision, young master?"
Harry shook his head, still staring at the chain link. "It's nothing, Kreacher." Harry exhaled, dropping his hand. "It'll keep for a bit."
Kreacher nodded dubiously. "If young master is sure."
Kreacher's demeanor pulled a small grin from Harry. "For now, friend."
Kreacher seemed to accept that with grace. "What are we to do now, Young Master?"
At the question, Harry looked away from Kreacher, back toward fair Hogwarts. "There's-" He shook his head "I- I Can't just-" Harry clenched his jaw. "I owe them, Kreacher. I thought I could- could maybe walk away, but this-", Harry gestured weakly, seemingly reaching helplessly toward something he just couldn't grasp, then swallowed. "I owe them all. I wasn't there- they were- All of this, misery and pain and suffering. That day, too many days." His arm thudded uselessly to his side.
Harry clenched his teeth, fiercely grimacing. "I can't walk away, not just yet." He turned to Kreacher. "I have to know something-" he swallowed.
"What is it, young master?"
Harry gulped, then braced himself. "Hagrid, Neville… Hermione-" Harrry had to close his eyes as the memories tried to wash over him again but he held on, barely. "Are they- did they…"
Kreacher reached out and touched Harry's shoulder. "They survived that day, master Harry, they did." Harry almost collapsed with relief, it felt like Kreacher's hand was the only thing keeping him upright.
Kreacher's grip tightened, reinforced with some soothing magic to help calm Harry some. "Mr Hagrid was the closest. He gave everything he had. To help the retreat." Kreacher blinked away a single tear. "The Dark One's beastmaster, he- he cursed-"
Harry grasped that broken chain link, willing himself to see, to be there. He watched Hagrid's battle cry, watched him smashing enemies to protect innocents. Watched him move at uncanny speeds to avoid or deflect curses. Watched him rip up stone barehanded to negate unforgivables from hitting students or himself.
Harry saw a group of death eaters, led by that fiendish MacNair, to curse Hagrid in his blind spot.
Harry felt his pain, his flesh torn open and ripped apart. Harry watched him bleed, watched him stagger, watched him turn to face then head on. He roared at them, refusing to falter, refusing to fall.
Before Harry could see the end, he felt Kreacher's magic help free him from the vision. He shook his head, cradling his face in his hands. "Kreacher," Harry couldn't bear to lift his head yet. "Is Hagrid- Did Hagrid-?"
Kreacher sighed, rubbing Harry's tense shoulders. "He did make it, Young Master. It was a close thing. And it was only due to his brother's-"
Harry's head snapped up. "Brother? You mean Grawp?"
Kreacher exhaled. "Yes, young master. That is him. He- he gave his life so that his brother, the students, the elves could get clear."
Both intuitively bowed their heads then, a mutually agreed upon moment of silence.
"They each had their own painful struggles, their own harrowing brushes. Their own brave moments." Kreacher looked away briefly, before turning back towards him. "Their own stories to tell, when you next see them, Kreacher believes."
Harry dipped his head at Kreacher in thanks. Kreacher nodded back nobly. Harry looked back toward the castle.
"You know something, Kreacher?" Harry pointed at Hogwarts. "This is the first place I knowingly called home?" Kreacher looked at him, somewhat unsettled. Harry chuckled sadly. "Yeah, I know. Well- the people I lived with- was forced to live with- my relatives. Let's just say I had a lot in common with the more mistreated house elves and leave it at that."
At Kreacher's appalled anger, Harry sighed. "So, this place became a refuge for me. Where I could start to learn to be me, what that might be." He exhaled. "It was home of sorts, Kreacher." He gestured to the damage, "now look at her. It breaks my heart."
Harry paused, gathering himself, needing to get this out. "Nev, he always undersold himself, but he was always so brave, so steadfast. So there. He came to the ministry with us without blinking. Just to help me. Despite believing he'd confront Voldemort, or the monsters who ruined his parents with a ill-matched wand." He thought to that moment in the vision, watching Neville stand tall before everyone. "Now everyone can see what I saw in him. He really came into his own." Harry chuckled proudly. "Fighting, leading, with the courageous strength of a Iion and the fierce loyalty of a badger, he did."
Harry shook his head clear, looking back at the chain link. "Hagrid was- was- he was my first friend. The first person in memory to get me a birthday gift, to even wish me a happy birthday. To see him driven- driven- to that… for me?" Harry gulped. "Hermione too. She was- was just so potent, primal. Brilliant as usual, but not herself, but was herself. I saw her. Really saw her. She was so much… and for me? Just me?" Harry held his head in his hands. "I don't know what to say."
Harry bit his lip, feeling it trembling in his mouth. He looked at the courtyard, where there were so many memories of her. Of them. He quivered then. "I could- I could see her, Kreacher. See Hermione, I mean, see some of them too."
At Kreacher's curious mien, Harry sighed. "Somehow, I saw- bits of that day- certain people, some happenings, like I was there…" Kreacher's eyes widened. Harry shrugged. "Yeah, that about covers it."
It felt like so much. Felt like too much.
Harry could only shake his head. "I owe them." His voice was stronger, laced with conviction. "I owe them everything they gave me and more." He clenched his fist, before laughing darkly. "I owe our enemies something too."
Harry stared up at once fair Hogwarts, glaring at the wreckage, the terrible bloody scenes still playing out before him in horrifyingly vivid technicolor, only just for him. He watched many fight. He watched many fall.
"The price of misplaced mercy." He shook, vibrating with a myriad of raw emotions storming within him. "No more second chances. This time, I'm going to finish the damn job. My job. So no one else has to, especially them."
Harry clasped his clenched fist with the other. "I can't keep losing, Kreacher. Not to these pillocks. Not any more, I bloody refuse." He scowled, pounding his fist in his palm. "I mean, I've lost so much. Hedwig, Dobby, My parents." He choked for a beat. "All 3 of them." He grimaced. "Even my birth home is a hovel, just like this one is right now." He gestured at the forlorn fortress.
He felt his clenched fists tighten, even more. His knuckles whitened, popping from the pressure.
He felt blood drip from his hands. The magic in it spreading toward the castle. An acknowledgment. The beginnings of a worthy offering as well.
Harry's eyes went hazy, tinged with desperation mixed with despair. "And yet still, My first friend and My best friend are out there. Still. And they fight, and they struggle, and they bleed and they kill. And They might… and- and- they might.." he shut his eyes, as if to drive away the possibility, before gritting his teeth with a savage expression.
"No, not again. Not this time."
Harry's eyes opened in a rush, ablaze with power as he lost control and his magic cut loose.
It was far more than he remembered it being.
Kreacher fought to stay close to Harry in the eye of the storm It seemed like a localized hurricane, or a maelstrom for one.
At that moment, Harry's strange new crow friend suddenly flew down, to land on his shoulder. Harry's Magic rapidly receded into his person, the surroundings calmed down as well. Harry tried to and look, only for the Crow to caw quite loudly at him then start grooming him in a soothingly familiar manner.
A very familiar manner.
It lasted for a minute, before Harry paused and turned to gaze at the crow.
Looking her right in the eyes. Then, he knew.
"Hedwig?"
Her caw was smug enough, but the "took you long enough" look was almost too much.
Harry playfully raised an eyebrow. "New look?" Hedwig narrowed her eyes, looking incredibly unimpressed, then whacked him upside the head with a wing. Harry could only laugh like a loon, happy tears streaming down his cheeks.
It took Harry awhile to calm himself again, but neither of his companions seemed to care in the slightest. He looked at his beloved familiar, reborn anew in beautiful black. She regarded him like she always did, with a sisterly warmth that rejuvenated his very soul. "Missed you too, girl." Her caw was just as emotive as her bark once was.
Harry looked at Hedwig, he looked at Kreacher again. Then he looked at the Castle again, his resolve further strengthened. He looked back at his companions, feeling so fortunate for second chances, like he got a little bit of favor back. Time to make them count.
They move toward the castle as one. Given the way his day, his life has gone really, Harry was unsurprised when her magnificent doors swung free and she beckoned him forth with open arms. "Thank you, dear lady." He bowed deeply with much love and respect. He could feel her welcoming caress, so much like he imagined a fairy grandmother would be.
Harry smiled. "Well, enough brooding, I'm already late so let's get this thing started, shall we?" His eyes flashed. "I've just the idea, too."
At their mutually curious looks, Harry simply winked.
~~~~~