CHAPTER 24: ANCHOR


The sun was low in the sky and people were hurrying back to their homes as Sparhawk and the headmaster left the hospital. Dumbledore turned to the boy, his face a jumble of shadows in the fading light. "The day is nearly done, young Sparhawk, and night is not the time for these things. Let us return to the school. We shall visit the specs maker on the morrow."

Dumbledore took Sparhawk back to Hogwarts through the Floo, which wasn't any more pleasant the second time through. Once there, he handed him over to Hagrid, telling him to keep the boy company. Apparently, he had business to attend to. Sparhawk wanted to visit Adelaide, see how she was doing, but Dumbledore vanished before he could grab him and Hagrid was being Dumbledore's man through and through.

And so they sat, sipping tea in Hagrid's cabin, the big man looking uneasy, hand constantly fidgeting with his beard. Sparhawk for his part, just stared, his green eyes giving away nothing. Then, all of a sudden, the big man burst into tears, sobbing and sniffling and bawling about how he was so sorry and shouldn't have left him alone. Sparhawk, who really wasn't all that great at this sort of thing, awkwardly patted his thigh, which was as high as he could comfortably get.

When Hagrid had finally calmed down enough, he asked, "What have you got to be sorry for? What was that about leaving me alone, Hagrid?"

"Yeh don't remember?"

"I don't."

"But...I even got you a gift, an owl, beautiful little critter..."

"No, Hagrid. I mean I can't remember. I woke up a couple of weeks ago at a hospital with my memories gone. Since then, I've been named Sparhawk by the authorities and I didn't even know I was called Harry Potter until a couple of death eaters attacked me and my parent."

"Yer parent?" Hagrid asked, quite confused, "yeh mean the Dursleys?"

"Who are the Dursleys?"

"They're yer aunt and yer uncle. Horrible folks. Kept you in the dark about you being a wizard and even lied to you about yer parents. Then they tried to keep yeh from Hogwarts and that was the last straw, I guess. Anyway, when you weren't replying to your Hogwarts letter, Dumbledore sent me to give it to you personally. It being your eleventh birthday, I got yeh a cake and all."

"My birthday?"

"Yea. The 31st o' July. Then, the next day, I took you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies and that's where I got you that snowy owl for yer Birthday. Anyway, we finished your shopping, and since " Here the big man noticeably reddened, "I thought I'd be visiting the Leaky Cauldron a bit, I thought I'd go ahead and send you home on the train by yourself. Only you went missing. I didn't even know about it till Dumbledore told me the day before yesterday. If I'd known, I'd have come looking for you myself, Harry."

"It's Sparhawk."

"What?"

"My name. It's Sparhawk"

"But yer Harry James Potter."

"That was my name." Sparhawk agreed, "But I don't remember ever being called that. And I like Sparhawk a lot better and will answer to that."

"So, you're Sparhawk now?"

"I'm always Sparhawk"


After Hagrid had been sufficiently schooled regarding his name, Sparhawk decided to probe a bit about the life and times of his now-dead host. It would, after all, seem somewhat suspicious if he continued to evince not much interest in his lost memories besides electronics and history and it wasn't like he was entirely incurious. And seeing as there was no time to start like the present, he started by quizzing Hagrid.

"So, Harry James Potter, was that what they called me?"

"Oftentimes they called you the boy who lived, on account of yer defeating You-now-who when you were a babe."

"Who now?"

"You know who."

"No, I don't"

"Well...uh..um...Vol...d'...mort." whispered Hagrid, "You oughtn't to speak his name... It brings bad luck."

Sparhawk shrugged. "If you say so. But, can you tell me more, about me, my family?"

Hagrid seemed to brighten up considerably, "O'course Harry!"

He cleared his throat. "It's Sparhawk."


Sparhawk sat, quietly digesting the information Hagrid had given him as the half-giant sat across, his eyes far away, reminiscing the past. Apparently, he was or had been, Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. His father had been from a prestigious bloodline, which seemed to be a matter of some import in the wizarding community, while his mother had been the first witch, pardon, magical in her's. They had fallen in love at school and gotten married straight out. At around this time, a rather opinionated wizard whose name seemed to be generally avoided had taken up the issue of blood purity with some fervor and had started getting his point across by murdering half-bloods and muggle-borns, the local parlance for mixed children and people like his mother. His parents had taken umbrage at that and decided to fight on the side against him. For some reason or the other, the aforementioned wizard, who Hagrid referred to using the ridiculous moniker You-know-who, had taken serious offense at that and had decided to have a little chat with them. Then, during that little altercation, his parents had been quite definitively murdered and he'd somehow murdered the evil wizard right back, and then he'd been left at the doorstep of his aunt and uncle who'd taken him in. And apparently, they'd been pretty horrid to him.

Not that it sounded like that to Sparhawk. They had taken in one, not of their own, and given him food and shelter. That itself was more than he could've expected back in his times. But then again, current society seemed to treasure its children, as a collective, more. So it well could've been abuse by today's standards. And it spoke volumes about them. He was glad to be away.

Wizards, it seemed, entered school when they were eleven years of age, which seemed a bit late to Sparhawk. Around that age, by account of old, forgotten magic, they got a letter addressed to them from Hogwarts inviting them to attend. They were free to refuse and go to one of the other magic schools or be homeschooled, but that was apparently very rare. Hogwarts even had a bit of a fund for the ones who couldn't afford their own tuition. How noble.

Anyhow, he'd had some problems with receiving his letter, courtesy of the Dursleys and so Hagrid had come to check on him and deliver it personally. Once there, the big man had lost it when he'd seen how Harry had been treated and kept from the truth of his parents and his heritage and after a brief altercation, had delivered his letter and given him an impromptu birthday party of sorts. Then they'd gone to Diagon Alley where they'd gotten some gold, while Hagrid ran some sort of errand for Dumbledore, and brought Harry's things the first time around. Hagrid had also gotten him a large, snowy owl, whereabouts unknown. And then he'd put him on the train home. But he'd gone missing and now he'd turned up. Story of his life.

But this filled some gaps up nicely. Sparhawk remembered the dead man in the room he'd woken up in. The room in which young Harry James Potter, who'd had his whole life ahead of him had ceased to exist. Odds were good that man had been a Death Eater. In fact, going by the late leader's reputation, the cult seemed to have a taste for murdering children. And that left a sour taste in Sparhawk's mouth. He was no longer a church knight, Champion of the Pandion Order, with all the powers it entailed. But he had time. And magic. And when the time was right, the Death Eaters would have a reckoning.

For now, though, he sat in the companionable silence that often accompanies such conversations. The brief lull before the awkwardness starts to set in. His eyes roved over the room, taking in the oversized furniture, the sleeping boarhound by the fire, the tea kettle boiling. ANd something caught his eye. It was a moving picture. Now, to a boy like himself who had been to the movies, what an experience that had been, this wasn't anything too magical, but the thing was that it was a moving picture on a newspaper. And he was pretty sure the muggle world didn't have that. He grabbed the page and stared at it, the place in the picture rather familiar. In fact, he had been there that very day. It was Gringotts.

'GRINGOTTS BREAK IN-LATEST' the headlines screamed. 'Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day." But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.'

The burglary had happened on the day he had been there. Hagrid had noticed him reading the paper and asked, "Anything the matter, Harry?" He turned the paper around to show him the article.

Now, a man such as Sparhawk, being in his line of work, dealing with the forces of the dark and all that opposed the Highfather had to be good at reading faces. Such skills were not necessary when dealing with Hagrid. The man was an open book. All at once, Sparhawk could see that he was trying desperately to hide something, what he couldn't guess, and the "Oh, what a coincidence, eh? Same day as we were there. Huh!" was as fake as it could be.

Sparhawk's interest was piqued. "Same day" he agreed and saw Hagrid fidget.

"Yeah! But it ain't got nothing to do with us, Harry. Coincidence is all!"

Sparhawk didn't bother to correct that. "Yes. We were there to get some gold, right?"

Hagrid nodded.

"And you were there on an errand for Dumbledore."

Hagrid froze for a moment, before trying his best to look bewildered. "Errand for Dumbledore...uh...oh, yeah! The Headmaster wanted me to get him some socks. Yeah. Needed to get some money for that."

Sparhawk could have pressed more, but at that moment, a silver bird of some sort burst through the window and spoke in Dumbledore's voice, summoning them to his office.


He wondered about all this and where Adelaide was and why Dumbledore wanted to see him. They walked for what seemed like an eternity through the winding stairways of the school and arrived before a gargoyle. Hagrid sidled up to it and said, "Lollipops" and it moved aside to reveal a rotating stairway that took them up to a door. Hagrid knocked and the Headmaster's voice came from within, "Come in Hagrid." How had he known?

They entered and found Adelaide seated across from Dumbledore in his throne-like chair. A bird with plumage of bright orange and red, shimmering so that it almost seemed to be a burning flame, lounged on a perch, preening itself. At the sight of him, Adelaide got up and gave him a little hug. "Dumbledore told me you got something special. Want to show me?" she asked. He grinned and got out his wand, the sapphire catching the flickering firelight and lighting up in mesmerizing patterns. Adelaide's breath hitched. "Oh, that's beautiful!"

Turning to the headmaster, she asked in a worried voice, "Are you sure it's alright for a boy of his age to have something that valuable/ I mean it looks like sapphire or something. Can't we get him a cheaper model until he's a bit older?"

Before Sparhawk could protest, Dumbledore smiled and said, "I wholeheartedly agree that anything valuable in the house better be kept out of reach of children, but Adelaide, it is the wand that chooses the wizard. Sparhawk was quite a tough nut to crack for Ollivander. This was the only wand that chose him. So this it will have to be. And if you're worried about it getting stolen at school, it's not that simple. A wand is something...essential, almost a part of most wizards. They're encouraged to have it on hand at all times. Even while they're sleeping, the wand isn't more than an arm's reach away. A wizard child is not allowed to cast magic away from school until they come of age, which is about seventeen. But even still, they keep hold of their wands at home. It nurtures the bond, helping it become a part of them, or so I believe. So we could lock it up at the end of the day in a warded box, but I think that would negatively affect Ha...Sparhawk's growth."

Adelaide chuckled weakly." Well, when you put it like that, I can't exactly argue, can I? But back to what we were discussing, I think we should ask Sparhawk."

"Ask me what?"

Dumbledore came around his desk to stand beside Adelaide. "Har.." he winced, then amended, "Sparhawk. Even after Voldemort was killed, some of his followers managed to evade the law and they were still at large. Either as upstanding citizens of the wizarding society or as wanted posters in the Auror Office. There was every danger they would come after you. But your mother had placed a protection on you, a protection that would fully awaken were a blood relative to take you in. A blood ward of so I placed you with the Dursleys. And they took you in and the wards rose. And they protected you for the last ten years. But somehow, by chance or malice, they failed and you were kidnapped by a death eater (that confirmed it). But miraculously, I suspect still due to your mother's protection, you managed to escape from him although it damaged your memory. Now, I cannot guarantee that more death eaters will not try where he has failed. In fact, it is a given. And So, you need protection. And I can give that. I can make you safe, by reconstructing the wards over Number 4, Privet Drive. It would not be as good as the one Lily's sacrifice wrought, but it would still be formidable and a deterrent for all but the most powerful."

"But the Dursleys were not kind to you. In fact, they treated you in a manner most despicable. I can make them fall in line, ensure you will be treated respectably enough, but I do not think they will give you their love. Maybe in the far future, but not now. And a child can not flourish without love. So, if you wish, you can stay with Mrs Baker. We can move you elsewhere, away from Privet Drive, and I can put up powerful wards and charms that will still repel most, but it would not be as strong as the protection I could craft from bonds of the blood. You would be at risk."

"And if I stay with Addy," he asked softly, "wouldn't it put her at risk? Wouldn't she be a target for the Death Eaters too?"

Adelaide kneeled, coming down to eye level with him, "Oh Sparhawk, I don't care about that! Now that they know, I'm in danger whether you stay with me or not. That's how it is to cultists like them. If you want to go to your relatives, I understand Sparhawk. After all you'll be much safer there. But I don't want you thinking that you'll put me in danger. I'm a grown woman and I can fend for myself. All I care about is do you you want to stay with me or go to the Dursleys?"

Ever since he'd woken up here, he hadn't really had any ties. He'd floated like a feather on the wind and humans really weren't meant to be like that. But now, there was someone. In truth, she wasn't exactly a parent, Sparhawk was much too old for that, not that she would know, but she was something. Family, if you had to put a word to it. And he felt something change in him, some part of him that had been watching all this as if it were something surreal suddenly quieted down and everything seemed all too real and present. He felt grounded. "Well, Addy, I guess you were right. I'll be the one who stays."


A/N: And that's that. As you see, I have to move certain events around. As always read and review. And since the sorting is going to come up in a few chapters, what house do you think Sparhawk should be in?

As always read and review.