Sticky
As an electric engineering student with a very heavy physics background, I won't be fooling with time. There is no time travel in this story. The Stargate storyline comes linearly after the HP storyline. Creative license.
Until you show me a page from any Harry Potter book that says "Harry Potter was born on July 31st, 1981" or something alike it's not even AU/AR. Sir Nick's 500-year Deathday Party doesn't count. You honestly want me to believe me that a ghost took care to note the exact years? Anyway, I'm going to counter that with the 665-year old Flamel. He was not born in 1325. (He built a house in 1407 and in the 15th century, people didn't live 82 years.)
Just because the CoS DVD timeline says something, it's NOT CANON.
Tapsyhapsy
Important Note: No cabbages were harmed during the making of this chapter.
Warning: Use of the f-word.Four times.
When Your Parents Told You Not to Stick Your Nose into Someone Else's Business, They Meant It
Sam got up from her computer desk and considered her findings. She could go tell Daniel and Teal'c. The problem was that she didn't have anything major to link her to the NID or prove that she was compromised. She should just confront her alone. Hell, she was an Air Force Major, not some sissy.
The corridors of the SGC were empty. Most of the staff was on a leave, celebrating the end of another planet threatening crisis. She stopped by the gateroom. The giant superconductive naquadah ring looked so beautiful. Someone said beauty always carried dangers. They were right… now the Colonel's life hung on the balance, and they were in trouble with the base commander.
Sergeant 'Chevron Locked' Harriman looked up from the gate diagnostic programme. "Ma'am?"
"Nothing Sergeant, just admiring the view," she answered with a strained smile.
"The Colonel also comes here often. He says it makes him at peace," answered the technician guessing what she was thinking. "We all wish we could help him," he added softly. "SG-2 is still on K'Tau trying to contact the Asgard."
Sam didn't know that but it didn't surprise her either. Her Colonel was very popular with the base staff and most of the people would have gone through anything to save him. Of course, 'no one is left behind,' but it was slightly different at this base. They have been through so many crises threatening the entirety of the planet and all were classified – the base staff had no one to confide in but each other. The SGC was like one big family, all caring for most people deeply. And SG-1 was the 'favourite child.' The one that always got into trouble, but the parents could not help loving.
She sighed and decided to get going. The gate diagnostic (she couldn't help but glance at it) was all green and it ended. True, she could continue to gaze at the gate, but it would get her no closer to her aim: finding out the mystery of Hermione Elizabeth Jane Granger Weir.
Taking the stairs at the end of the control room, she trekked up a storey to the base commander's office. To her surprise, Dr Weir was standing in the briefing room and staring at the Stargate, just like she did a couple of minutes ago. The woman suddenly noticed her presence and whirled around. Sam was shocked to see her tear-stained face and ruined make-up.
"Major Carter, what can I do for you?" she asked, hastily digging into her pocket most likely to get a handkerchief. Finding one, she quickly wiped her face clean and continued to look at Sam with haunted eyes, almost causing her to reconsider this whole confrontation thing. But this further intrigued her.
Was she being blackmailed by the rouge NID? That made no sense because in that case she wouldn't have restrained Daniel into the base, keeping him out of their clutches. Was she trying to protect him with her actions, just as she said? Why the tears then?
"Major Carter?" Weir asked again. Sam snapped out of her thoughts.
"Oh, I wanted to discuss something with you, Doctor," she paused, "Granger."
The woman stiffened at the name, but it wasn't fear in her eyes. There was shock, and something else… Sam couldn't decide whether it was pain or hatred it disappeared so quickly. Weir really was a diplomat through and through.
"Hermione Granger is dead as far as I'm concerned," she answered in a voice colder than ice. Sam stopped herself just before flinching. "Is that the thing you wanted to discuss?" her voice could have frozen the Sahara itself, the other woman thought nervously. Maybe she should have asked Teal'c to accompany her. The Jaffa could be really scary even without trying. Or maybe she could have used a more subtle approach.
She gathered her courage. "No, actually I wanted to talk about your non-existent school too. But the real thing is about Daniel. Why did you do restrict him to the base? I hardly believe it was for his own protection."
"The school is classified information. I don't know where you got it, but you shouldn't have been able to access it. And about your so-called Daniel, did you not notice the difference in his behaviour and appearance?" Weir asked.
Sam thought for a second. Daniel was the same. Talking a lot, talking fast. Change in his appearance? Apart from another haircut, there was nothing different. And Weir hadn't been here for long, how could she notice any differences?
"I'm talking about the scar on his forehead," the woman added in a mocking voice as she sat down to the head seat of the briefing table. "Surely you've noticed that lighting shaped scar on his forehead? With all you experiences in charades don't you suspect something's off with the sudden appearance of such an old-looking scar?"
"Do you think he's an impostor?" Sam laughed. "Come on, that scar must be from the battle with Anubis." Daniel was the same old as always. They'd been on the same team for more than eight years, she'd notice.
"Oh really…" Weir answered in the same mocking tone she used earlier. "That's why it didn't bleed and is perfectly healed, that's why it looks just like the one…" she paused and her voice softened, "an old friend of mine used to have."
"You're saying that someone is impersonating Daniel from your past?" Sam asked incredulously.
Unfortunately this made the base commander blow up, almost literally. She jumped up from the seat she was lounging in and advanced on Sam. "No! Those bastards think they can reach me even here, but I'm going to show them that if they want to smear Harry's memory, they are going to pay BIG TIME!" She almost screamed the last two words. "Big time," she whispered, almost collapsing but grabbed another chair to support herself.
"But it takes really advanced technology to perfectly imitate a person, and even better to change slight differences about them," Sam tried to reason with her clearly upset commander. It all made sense now… How she snapped at Daniel after seeing that scar… even the tears. Most of the pieces of the puzzle were in place. She had to admit, impersonation might be a possibility, but who could get their hands on that kind of technology? At least this solved her problem. These emotions were just too real, Dr Elizabeth Weir (whatever inconsistencies might be in her background) was not compromised.
"Make no mistake," Weir replied, sounding tired from her earlier outburst. "They are powerful, and if they want to stretch their claws, they can reach far." She sat down to the chair she used to support herself and buried her face in her hands. "Hermione… Hermione couldn't escape them. She couldn't bear what they did to her… and Harry… she lost too much."
This revelation came out of the blue and surprised Sam. On the other hand… it made little sense. Some pieces were still missing, but most of those would be supplied by duplicate-Daniel. She cleared her throat to catch Weir's attention. "Yes?"
"How do you think they are impersonating him? And do you have any guessed to the culprit's identity?" Sam was all business. After all, she had a base to look after until the Colonel made it out of coma.
"The culprits are way beyond your reach, Major," she answered with a small, bitter laugh. "Beyond mine, too. This will have to go through the President's office, I'm afraid."
"But how are they doing it?" Sam insisted.
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me. I've seen much that 'no one would believe' in the eight years I spent at the SGC," the major pointed out.
Weir looked up and sighed. "Sit down Major. This will be a long explanation."
When she sat down facing her commander, Weir started speaking. "Most likely I should just start by saying magic exist." She held up a hand to stop Sam from interrupting. "I told you it's an incredible story. Non-existant Hogwarts 'School for the Gifted' is in reality Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the best magical school in the United Kingdom. America has its own."
"Magic? You must be joking!" Sam blurted out because she just could not help herself. Aliens were okay, because people, no matter how deep down, always knew that the universe was just too big to be alone… but magic? Then Weir sincere gaze made that line of thoughts go further… because no matter how deep down, people always though that some kind of magic also existed. Children couldn't even be put off from the idea. Might it be that they were just more aware of their surroundings than adults just as she was more aware about aliens than they were? She looked up at Weir again. "Okay, continue."
"To cut the long story shorter, there are lots of way to use magic, and disguise is one of them. There is a so-called Polyjuice potion that only needs a strand of hair or piece of nail from the original person to work then it makes the one drinking it a perfect replica. This one needs an hourly dose to work. There are also less perfect means, but still able too fool almost anyone."
"How does this Polyjuice potion work?" Sam asked. Once a scientist, always a scientist. She wanted to know. "Does it need magic to be prepared?"
"I honestly don't know how it works. Magical folk are quite content that something works and never ask whys if they can. And it needs lots of magical ingredients that Muggles – non-magical people – can't even see."
"So I take it these magical folk are hiding from us… Muggles?"
"Yes. They mainly use the fact that Muggles are hesitant to believe magic exists and dismiss strange things as figments of their imagination. They have their own sub-society, complete with villages, magical districts and government," Weir elaborated.
"You seem to know an awful lot about this. Are you one of this magical folk?"
"They're called witches and wizards. The wand-waving kind," the woman answered after a pregnant pause avoiding Sam's original question. Teal'c would have raised an eyebrow if he was there. Then she continued. "I was the magical advisor to President Patrick Martin. Very few people in the Muggle government know about magic, in fact only the President and some high ranking Congress members. There is something called the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692, stating how the magical governments should keep the Muggles unaware of magic. I'm currently breaking it, but since the Federal Magical Congress isn't keeping their end of the bargain... well, let's say I don't particularly care about it."
"There is a bargain about the SGC?" Sam asked wide-eyed. It was a thing the magic existed, but that they existed parallel to the normal world and even made bargains about it?
"Yes. The SGC is to keep one hundred percent wizard and witch free while under serious magical protection. It was part of an agreement between the Secretary of Magic and President Martin, concerning the armed forces," Weir answered. The Major could very well imagine her as brokering that agreement being the diplomat she was. "But since it's most likely not a Muggle using magical means to impersonate Daniel, the Magical Congress can be held responsible. We're supposed to have wards that prevent infiltration through their means." She stood up. "Major, this is all I can tell you. Now, I have to phone the President again, hopefully he'll be available this time."
Sam was left alone to ponder on just what implications magic could have on their lives.
Daniel stood above the prone form of Jack O'Neill, beads of sweat on his brow. It seemed that all his magic wasn't able to heal whatever had taken his friend away. His eyes opened and he withdrew his hand from over his forehead.
He decided on a more direct approach and pointed a finger towards the Colonel.
"Legilimens," he whispered.
A microsecond later he was thrown violently against the wall.
Teal'c had been watching Daniel very carefully. While he did think Weir's actions were strange, he had also noticed that Daniel had changed as well. There was something different, almost intangible, but present never-the-less.
That feeling grew when Daniel began putting his hands over O'Neil's forehead. That was when Teal'c saw something that completely baffled him. Daniel had pointed a finger and O'Neil and spoke something in latin. 'Legal Mind?' Teal'c didn't know what it meant, but as soon as Daniel had been thrown across the room, he knew something very very strange was going on.
Teal'c pushed the red alarm button next to the door and pulled out his zat. Immediately, armed guards began to arrive. After taking on look at the large jaffa pointing a weapon at a body on the floor, they followed suit. Soon there were five more weapons pointed towards Daniel. Dr. Weir and Sam arrived only moments later.
"What's going on here?" Weir demanded.
"I believe Daniel Jackson just attempted an attack on Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c stated evenly.
"What exactly happened?" Sam asked.
"It was strange. Daniel pointed his finger at O'Neill and said 'Legal minds.'"
"Legal minds?" Weir made the connection in her head automatically. Roughly translated 'Legilimens' could be taken as that. "Clear the room, people. Only SG-1 stays."
The armed guards who had arrived hesitated for only a moment before they began backing out of the room. They didn't understand what was going on, but they rarely did – especially where SG-1 was concerned. When they had gone, Teal'c went and locked the door.
"Does this make any sense to you?" Sam asked Dr. Weir.
"Unfortunately, yes. Legilimens is a spell incantation used to read memories, images, and feelings from other people's minds. Whoever sent Daniel is obviously trying to get their hands on the ancient knowledge Colonel O'Neill has stuck in his mind."
If Sam hadn't fully been on board before, she was now. Daniel was acting strange, and it couldn't be a coincidence.
"Dr. Jackson has been compromised?" Teal'c asked as he resumed his position of guarding Daniel.
"It seems that way, Teal'c," Sam answered. "It's a strange story, but I have confidence in what Dr. Weir is telling us."
Teal'c raised his eyebrows, but stayed silent. It had been Daniel that suggested that Dr. Weir was compromised. It was also Daniel that had seemingly attacked Colonel O'Neill. He gripped his zat just a little harder.
There were a few moments of silence before Daniel began to stir. In that time, Weir did something she had never done before: picked up a sidearm from Sam. While she didn't trust herself to actually point it at Daniel – she was afraid that in her anger she would pull the trigger – it would help protect herself from someone magical, even though she had none.
"Well, that was interesting," Daniel said before shaking his head and standing up. It was at that point he actually noticed the weapons pointed towards him, and the look of anger on his team mates and 'commander's' faces. He frowned and stuttered, "Er, what's going on, guys?"
"You attacked Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c stated evenly. Sam and Weir shared a look. Whoever this 'Daniel' was, they were good. It must have taken them years of training to be able to impersonate someone this well.
Daniel was silent for a few minutes while he figured out what must have happened. The last thing he remembered was trying to help Jack, and then nothing. He had tried the Legilimency spell, and something must have gone wrong. He realized then how serious the problem was. There was no way he could just say that. Perhaps he could fall back on the old 'sudden reappearance of ancient knowledge' excuse? His thoughts were interrupted by Dr. Weir.
"Who are you exactly, because I don't think you're Daniel Jackson. What really happened up there with Anubis?"
That settled it for Daniel. If they were going to be bringing that up too, he no longer had a choice really. "I don't know exactly how it happened, but while I was on the ship with Teal'c and Bra'tac, a lot of the knowledge I had gained as an ascended came back to me. I was able to somehow – I don't know how to explain it, really. I was able to transport myself over to Anubis' ship and finally destroy him."
Sam wavered at this point. What Daniel was saying could possibly have happened, and the story Weir had told her was pretty fantastic. As a scientist, she went with what she knew, and she continued Daniel's explanation smoothly. "And with Colonel O'Neill, you thought you would be able to help him with this knowledge?"
"Yes, that's it exactly. Why don't you guys lower your weapons now and we can discuss this normally?"
Sam did just that, and Teal'c followed her lead, however Weir only tightened the grip on her own.
"You may be spinning a story that makes sense to these two, but I know that isn't the truth," Weir stated angrily.
"Why are you so sure of that, Dr. Weir? I know you're new here…" Daniel started to placate, but was interrupted by an even angrier Weir.
"Because of that damn scar on your forehead!" she bit out. "What did you think was going to happen? I would just see that scar, and know what was going on? That I would willingly help the world that I hate – that I swore I would never participate in again?"
Daniel had paled considerably, to the pleasure of Dr. Weir. Sam and Teal'c, however, were a much different story, and were beginning to consider the possibility that Weir had lost her mind. No one, unfortunately, was thinking very rationally.
"Where's a mirror," Daniel demanded just as much as asked.
"Why don't you just conjure one, you imbecile," Weir snarled. Daniel wasn't listening though, and had hurried to a medical cart to find a mirror. Locating one, he hesitantly took a look before dropping it immediately in disgust.
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, and Mother Fuck," Daniel swore. Sam and Teal'c were extremely surprised. They had never heard Daniel speak like that. The situation had just changed radically once again. But not as much as it would with Daniel's next statement and question. He turned towards them slowly.
"So now you know. The famous Harry Potter, now a muggle archaeologist. Now my question is: What are you going to do about it?"
"Harry Potter? You… are?" Weir staggered backwards and found the wall, which she leaned against thankfully. "Dumbledore… said… you died!" she struggled to complete the sentence.
"You seriously believe everything Albus my-dear-boy-manipulative-bastard Dumbledore says?" Daniel answered incredulous. It seems that in the twenty-odd years he hadn't been in the magical world, their common sense had not improved. Any.
"I saw the body," the woman countered softly as she struggled to stay upright even with her back to the ball. So tired. She really should have slept some when Walter sent her to bed, but Anubis was on the verge of attacking Earth at the time.
Sam and Teal'c felt somewhat left out of the conversation, because they didn't know what to make of it. They had actually more question than when this whole mess started. Was it that both Weir and Daniel were right or neither of them was right? Who was compromised by who and who was impersonating who? Had Daniel been always a different person and they never noticed it? Whoever the heck was Albus Daniel-hates-him Dumbledore?
Moreover, Sam couldn't help but wonder if 'Harry Potter' was the same 'Harry' Weir mentioned she lost. Or Hermione did. She felt a headache coming on. This was all too confusing.
A small silence descended over the room, only broken by the rhythmic beep of the monitors attached to Colonel Jonathon O'Neill. They all glanced over to his prone form, lying on the bed and wished he would be here and sort out this mess.
"So… you truly are Harry Potter?" asked Weir in a small voice.
It sounded so familiar, but Daniel couldn't place it anywhere. Those brown eyes were so hauntingly familiar. He'd never met her. She must have resembled someone… but who? Hermione, a part of his mind whispered. He'd blanched slightly and did what he always did to that part of his mind: stomp on it, squelch it, and bury it as deep as he could. The façade he developed over the years was the only thing that kept him from having a minor emotional breakdown. He so not wanted to go down that line of memories.
"I guess the scar is a dead-giveaway," he answered. Jack would have been proud of that comment. Sarcasm 101, taught by the best.
"Actually…" Weir answered. "No. It's not that hard to fake a scar with magic."
She had a point, Daniel had to admit.
"Err, hmm, well. You're right," he mumbled. "But hey, I have something better," he suddenly remembered. He took off his glasses and put them on the table then grimaced as he took out the coloured contacts. Vibrant green eyes stared at Elizabeth. "I'm told the colour is quite unique?"
He could not for his life guess what made her react so strongly. There was a whisper of "Harry?" and she fainted. Had they known each other? He couldn't remember her, but twenty-something years change people very much. Thankfully Teal'c was there and caught her before she hit the floor. The large Jaffa gently placed the woman on a bed and looked over to Daniel.
"DanielJackson, I believe you owe us an explanation?"
The archaeologist nodded absentmindedly as he continued to stare at the unconscious woman. Have they really known each other? Was she a witch? No, she had no magical aura. She didn't even have those minor magical flares that muggles gave out. He didn't get to know any muggles while he was still Harry Potter. Why was she so familiar? Daniel quickly decided to quit this line of thought before it brought up other painful memories. Like Herm… Stop it, Potter! he screamed at himself and took a mental double take. He was Potter no more.
He glared at Weir's form on the bed for making him remember so hard-fought memories. Or would have, he realised with a couple of blinks if Sam wasn't waving her hand in front of his face.
"Daniel… Harry?" she started but Daniel quickly interrupted.
"Daniel. Harry Potter is dead… well, not really, but I'm not Harry anymore," he interjected.
"Okay, Daniel, what the heck is going on?" she asked, a little put out. Daniel grimaced. A full-scale Doctor-Major Samantha Carter interrogation was not a good thing.
"MajorCarter, maybe we should inform DoctorLam to assure that no harm has come to DoctorWeir," Teal'c said and Daniel couldn't help but be grateful to him. Saved by the Jaffa.
"Yeah, we should," Sam agreed and moved to the phone while Teal'c unlocked and opened the door.
A couple of minutes of silence and a brisk doctor later, it was clear that Elizabeth Weir forgot about a couple of meals and nights of sleep because of Anubis' attack and was simply suffering for exhaustion and malnutrition.
Dr Lam left, but not without ordering SG-1 firmly to get some rest themselves, giving Sam and pointed glare and muttering 'commissary'. The blonde woman gulped and nodded. Dr Lam was almost as good as reading her as Janet was, or maybe she just read those little notes Janet loved to leave in personal files. 'Tends to forget to eat when stressed.' This was Sam. 'Tends to forget to sleep when stressed.' This was Daniel. She wondered what was in the Colonel's file. Surely there could be no such observation about Teal'c.
She glanced at Daniel, who was still glaring at Weir.
"Did you know someone called Hermione Granger?" she asked softly remembering the woman's comment about Harry Potter. As Daniel's gaze turned to her, she instantly realised her mistake. The raw pain in his eyes – so green, so intense – shocked her.
"I… I don't… I don't want to talk about," stuttered the normally eloquent archaeologist/linguist. Sam's question triggered his escape reflex and normally he would have quickly found an excuse to leave and lock himself into his office. But now, he had magic. He concentrated on getting away, forgetting that apparition needed a destination, but his subconscious was quick to jump in and guide his magic to the place all of his troubles started: Hogwarts. More precisely, the person who caused all of his troubles: Albus Dumbledore.
Sam watched wide eyed as the place where Daniel stood before a moment ago was empty. There was nothing telltale to signal transportation – light, rings, etc – just a barely audible pop. One millisecond he was there, the other he was not.
With a small lag, her brain started to function again and the thought hit her. Hammond had been reassigned. Colonel O'Neill was out. Weir was out.
Who the heck was in command of the base?
She turned tails and broke into a run in the direction of that red telephone.
Daniel found himself rather surprised in the middle of the swirling apparition void. That did not last long, however. Before he had time to comprehend that he did not choose any destination, he was in a circular room.
Curse subconscious decisions.
Hogwarts headmaster's room.
"Who are you?" asked an irate voice, and Daniel noticed the wand trained on him by a wizened old man. Dumbledore aged somewhat in the previous twenty years.
"Now, now, you don't even recognise your dear boy, Professor?" The words were out before he could restrain himself. His inner self (as he referred to Harry Potter when he was forced to) was acting up today. No wonder, magic must have strengthened that locked-away part of him.
"Harry?" the headmaster asked his eyes blinking and his face becoming whiter. "That's impossible! You gave up your magic…"
"Well, I wanted it back. And now," Daniel pressed the last word. "Let's talk."
Dumbledore lowered the wand but did not tuck it away into one of his numerous pockets, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the archaeologist who'd been trained by three of the most paranoid (and best) SGC fighters.
"Harry, my boy," he started in a patronising voice. Daniel restrained himself and his magic from harming him. He didn't actually know what he wanted to talk about, or what the old man was talking about. It was his subconscious that chose this place after all. But it seemed that he had something to say.
"I just wanted the best for you when I said she died. I could not know that you'd give up your magic because of it… Nor would you wait to hear out my explanation then." He went silent, his eyes twinkling merrily, a sure sign that he was up to something.
It took about five seconds for Daniel to piece together that little piece of information. Dumbledore. Lied. About. Hermione. Being. Dead.
It took another tenth of a second for him to launch a full-scaled Legilimency attack. The headmaster's weak but intricate Occlumency had no chance against the onslaught of raw power – he was clearly not expecting that kind of attack.
The old man collapsed onto the floor when Daniel finally released him.
"So you walked into the ritual, that's what caused it to fail and that's why her magic was in the room, but not connected to her body – or the fake one. Then you went on to pretend that she died. Then you told her that I died. You told everyone that I died and Hermione is missing." He summarised his findings in a voice that could have frozen the Sun itself.
"She lost her magic, Harry. She wouldn't be any good for you anymore."
Daniel's eyes narrowed into slits and he was focused on the headmaster's face, keeping eye contact. The old coot actually believed that? He didn't notice the slight moving of the wand near the floor.
"I'll be back to take care of you, Old man. Of that you can be sure."
He disappeared with a small pop.
Daniel didn't advertise his return to the SGC. He decided that he had a more important thing to do than explain things to Sam and Teal'c, he could always apologise later. But he had to find Hermione. God, it tore his heart apart to think what Hermione must have felt with his death… if it was like anything he felt… He was on the edge of ending it all because he the pain and longing overwhelmed him.
He discarded the thoughts. Hermione was strong, she was always strong, she was his beacon, the rock he could always cling to. Hermione. Would. Not. Have. Done. Anything. Harry. Considered. Doing. He repeated that a couple of times, trying to convince himself too.
The government search program booted up and for the first time since he joined the Stargate programme, he blessed high-security clearance and access to a lot of information he would not see as a simple archaeologist. Okay, so she was British, which might make his job difficult, but not impossible.
He did not notice his office door opening or Sam stepping in, but his head snapped up as his name was called. "Daniel? You're back?"
"Yes," he answered pointedly curtly. He wanted to find her so much that it almost hurt. He did not care if she was a muggle. He would not have cared if she was a junkie, a beggar, a whore, a waif, a criminal, a murderer. Hell, if she was Goauld or NID, he'd bring her back. Who cared if she had magic or not? How dare Dumbledore decide what was good for him. It was his Hermione, his Hermione, more important than anything else in the world.
"I'm sorry that I mentioned Hermione Granger," Sam insisted on continuing the conversation.
"Sam, I'm trying to work here," he snapped at her. Then realised. She was talking about Hermione. "What do you know about Hermione?" he asked. Sam never even realised when he got up and grabbed her shoulders. But he was there, grasping them firmly. She did not expect this kind of reaction after the grief she saw earlier in the infirmary.
"Err, what do you want to know?" she asked weakly. This aggressiveness was so alien to her normally soft-spoken and anti-violence friend that she could not help being surprised at his nearly delirious attitude. And it scared her somewhat, quite frankly.
"Where is she? Is she alright? Does she still remember me? Does she still love me?" he blurted out the questions without even realising what he asked.
"Calm down," Sam finally snapped at him. Daniel blinked with those vivid green eyes – that would take some time getting used to – and realised that he was gripping her shoulders. That would leave bruises, she thought with a slight grimace.
"'M sorry," he answered meekly and released her. "But I really, really need to find her," he added in his best pleading voice.
"Your friend, Hermione Granger changed her name twenty years ago. She's fine and she still remembers you. I… don't know about her feelings," she continued with some hesitation. Sure she seemed very passionate about the memory, but that could mean lots of things.
"Do you know her new name?" Daniel asked, his earlier violent tone completely gone. He sounded like the time he lost Sha're.
"Dr Elizabeth Weir."
She blinked and looked at the spot his friend occupied a second ago. Daniel did it again. This magic thing could be dead useful against the Goauld, she mused and walked out of the door, with a small, but nevertheless present smile.
At least this time she knew where to find Daniel – the Infirmary. She needed to check on Colonel O'Neill anyway. Good thing General Hammond was coming back. Sam was pretty sure he could figure out these estranged lovers and maybe he could even contact the Asgard. Somehow. Until then she was in temporary command. Colonel Reynolds was one step higher in the chain of command (not to mention several other ranking officers) but the President appointed her. No one complained. Reynolds even congratulated her. The SGC was somewhat of a weird military installation.
Daniel appeared next to Elizabeth Weir's bed. He was getting dizzy with all these apparitions. There was something draining him as he apparated today, each and every time. Hogwarts, he could understand, but the SGC?
He looked at the woman in the bed. Hermione has grown up to be incredibly pretty, beautiful, even. She always joked that she was just a bushy haired bookworm, but Harry – he was Harry then – knew that secretly she though of herself as ugly. Why every woman had the misconception, he did not know. For him, she was the most beautiful girl in the world – make that the universe. Always.
Gingerly putting a hand on her forehead he blew a kiss to her furrowed brows.
He felt magic pouring out of him but it was strange. Daniel did not feel himself weakening or missing the power that was leaving him. It was never his. He realised with a sudden jolt that it must have been Hermione's that she sacrificed on that day.
Magic smiled. Or did the metaphysical equivalent of a smile. Finally, it managed to rejoin two of its favourite children. It and They have been through so many adventures and trials together. It enjoyed Their love; it was nurtured by Their love. Magic was very sad when They separated through the machinations of a third, but could not do a thing because the ancient laws demanded its inaction.
But now He wanted it back, and because He did not take it from Her by force, it was free to go back to Her too.
Its lost children were once again its children.
