Harry has a different reaction to his near death experience at age nearly seven and become a right little Machiavellian Prince and, as his relatives tell everyone he's a hooligan, he starts bringing their falsehoods to life.
I don't own or derive any material benefit out of Harry Potter or Stargate. This story is not a crossover, though it will feature a certain general from Texas.
Not being American, I know nothing about San Antonio and may get things wrong, a lot. The school is real; the events portrayed are not. Harry has his own views about religion. He's 7, so may not be correct. That doesn't mean he'll change his views. He is rather stubborn.
Harry got up and got ready for the day. Today was Wednesday 23rd December 1987. He had to write to Hermione today. He went down stairs and made everyone a full English breakfast. He could do it in his sleep, so he was working on his letter.
George took in the full English breakfast with its fried egg, a couple of slices bacon and a couple of sausages and fried bread and grabbed the sauce he used for a steak and added that. He tasted it. It was surprisingly well cooked. Fred and Claudette came and joined them. They too hit the sauce. Harry wished for his good old tomato sauce.
"Well, son," Fred said. "You weren't lying about your culinary skills."
"It's very nice, James," Claudette added. "We usually have some cereal, waffles and pancakes. This makes a pleasant change, since I'm not cooking it."
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I should have asked what you liked. I just assumed you'd like what English people like."
"Did you have a reason for wanting to do this?" George asked.
"I need to send a letter to England to my friend Hermione telling her where I am and saying that I'm sorry I won't be starting her school in January."
"Why don't you work on your letter and I'll arrange for its transport," George offered.
"That'd be brilliant, granddad," Harry beamed. George smiled, touched by the granddad. The adults let James go to his room and write his letter.
"I don't like what his says about James," Fred says.
"Up before the rest of us and cooking a perfect meal. He's a born chef, but what happened to him when he made a mistake. Those Dursleys sounds absolutely horrible. We got James out just in time," Claudette declared.
"All James knows is that we've adopted him. He doesn't know we're his cousins," Fred said.
"Yes, something is most definitely off," George agreed.
Harry was upstairs writing his letter.
Dearest Hermione,
It's 23 December 1987 in San Antonio Texas. That family holiday I said I was going on was the Dursleys getting rid of me. I'm an American, now. My name is now James Hammond. Do tell the others. I am telling you because you're the oldest of us and best explainer. I've put my new address at the top of this letter. Say hi to Susan and sorry I won't be going to school with you.
It is strange. The family that have adopted me are my relatives. I don't know, if they know. I'm not saying anything in case they send me back. My mother's mother had an older sister who went to the USA after the war and had a son named George. He's a USAF Colonel and very nice. He's my cousin, but I think of him as my granddad. My new dad is his son Fred and my new mum is Claudette. They tried but failed to have kids.
Made me think of what said that squibs have trouble having babies. Did you get Sirius to find about your dad and the Dagworth-Grangers? I think you should. Claudette is the daughter of Claude and Juliette Graingon or Graignon. They sound French and could be your relatives, too. Please ask your dad about them and visit if you can. Ask them if they have a daughter. Make them write her, if she is. It's the right thing to do.
I made my new family breakfast this morning. Full English, the works. Big mistake. Americans don't eat English food. I didn't know. They were nice about it.
On my flight out, I nice lady called Karen looked after me most of the time. Not all the time. Please ask Sirius to check her out.
Write me, please.
James Hammond
Harry placed that inside an envelope and went to find George. George insisted in reading it. George didn't know who Sirius was. He'd ask James later. He could ask a friend in intelligence to look up this Karen, investigate any link between the Grangers and Dagworth-Grangers. He didn't know what squibs were. He couldn't exactly ask her daughter-in-law. If she and her parents were estranged, Claudette was unlikely to say. He'd never asked Fred about it either. George finished reading and folded up the letter and put it in the enveloped, which had Hermione's address on it. George noted it down.
"Well squirt, want to see the base, we can post it there?" George asked.
Harry wasn't sure he liked being called squirt. It beat boy or freak hands down, though.
"Sure, gramps." George looked like he was chewing something unpleasant. Harry nodded vigorously. The journey took half an hour. The base post office was very busy. It was like Moses and the Red Sea. People let George and his new grandson walk to the front of the queue and buy a stamp and post the letter. Harry was very thankful. George had a chat with his friend in Intelligence and took Harry on a tour of the base. Harry was quite talkative asking about the aircraft and the squadron or group.
"My teacher at school mixes us up to see who works best with others. Do you do the same with your pilots?"
"We assign wingmen early and you generally stay together throughout your time in the USAF."
George went back to his Intelligence friend.
"I made some calls, George. The airline said that a Karen Lever was supposed to have accompanied an American minor James Hammond on the trip, but hadn't showed up. No-one was with him. The Grangers are related to the Dagworth-Grangers. Some kind of estrangement happened about 30 years ago. The Graignons and the Grangers are related. They haven't spoken in years, either. You daughter-in-law is definitely the daughter of Claude and Juliette Graignon. The typo must be deliberate."
"Thanks for your help, Yonit."
"James, were you accompanied?"
"Yes. Most of the time. I didn't imagine it. Perhaps she was a ghost. Is Karen Lever alive?"
"It's said children are able to see ghosts. I'll get the airline to look into it." Yonit smiled at George. The airline got back to them half-an-hour later. Karen Lever had died at 9:30 am GMT the previous morning. Yonit looked at James. "What do you think of seeing your first ghost, James?"
"That ghost was helpful and nice. You said the airline told you that she wasn't on board. I know she was. I don't know why I could see her or why you believe that I did."
"Obvious to you, but not to many, I'd wager," Yonit said.
Harry crossed his arms in front of him. "No has told me that ghosts don't exist, if that's what you mean."
"Ghosts don't exist," Yonit said, sternly.
"Too late," Harry said, throwing his arms wide. "That plane has flown."
As George was driving Harry back to the house he said, "No telling the others about your ghost. Fred and Claudette are normal people. You'd only worry them. It'll be our secret. James, one day I'll tell about my people from the future adventure, if you'll tell me your secret."
"Okay," Harry mumbled. He had no intention of every spilling the beans as they literally were magic. George seemed happy enough. Harry thought as the truck drove on that Sirius would try to apparate to see him, once he worked out that he'd seen a ghost and one that had stayed with him most of the day. Harry had read ghost stories and ghosts didn't do that. They either stayed in one place or did a task and then vanished. Karen hadn't vanished. Harry thought he might have been scared, if she had. That evening he delved in his trunks until he found something on ghosts. He concluded that there was something off about his encounter. He would need a place to do magic. Claudette had mentioned a creek about half a mile away, still on the property, though. Harry wondered, if he dared do a summoning spell. Muggle stories told of successful summonings that brought what was wanted and some nasty uninvited guests who tagged along. He packed things away and remembered the concealing spell.
The morning of Christmas Eve was always a busy time in the Granger household. Mr Granger was old school, which meant a goose at Christmas, not turkey. Every year meant a mad dash to the local market for a goose. Mrs Granger bought the other vegetables at the same time. That left Hermione to clear up and clean up. Since she was usually wrapped up with a book that usually meant trouble for her. Her mother called her Hermione Jean Granger and her father called her 'your mother's child'. Hermione knew she was in the dog house. This morning was no different. Her parents were out of the house and she'd found a book, The Wind in the Willows. Hermione heard the letterbox. That was impossible. Everyone in the Granger address book and had long since sent and received cards and gifts. Hermione saw the letter from James. Her book, forgotten, Hermione ripped open the letter. James had been adopted by a family in the United States of America. James was gone, just like that. She read the letter and at the end thought, well I never and he calls me bossy.
"James Evans," Hermione said. Moments later, Sirius Orion Black apparated into her front room.
"Hello, Hermione. I put a taboo on that name. Are you ready for Yule?"
"Not the way the Blacks do it?"
"No matter. What's up?"
"It's James. He's been adopted by a family in the US, name of the Hammonds. James got accompanied by an air hostess. He thinks there was something wrong. She's called Karen Lever. He asks about the Dagworth-Grangers, again. He wants me to check out the Graignon in France to see if they are related to me and his adoptive mother."
"Doesn't want much does he?"
"This letter has come from the US in a day. That's impossible, Sirius."
"With magic, almost nothing is impossible."
"This has a muggle stamp and something to do with the US military."
"I'll go check on James. I'll look into the other things. There's an old obscure law that allows the family of a squib take any magical offspring off them. We've already checked and your father is the brother of the current Lord, Hector. We aren't going to push it. Hector's happiest with a cauldron making a potion. We don't want him taking an interest in you."
Sirius apparated away. Sirius found himself chatting with the ghost of Karen Lever. She wasn't too helpful. She looked after James Hammond, because she'd been asked to. Her living replacement, and she teared up, wasn't too well-trained. She'd train her and then move on.
The French Ministry had adopted the British custom of Elevenses and had Wine and Cheese. Most days it started at 11 and went til 1 in the afternoon. At Christmas it stopped when the officials broke for holidays. Sirius portkeyed across and spoke with his opposite number, a Giles Delacour. Sirius took one of the Black Chateau bottles of wine; always a choice gift.
Monsieur Delacour was a plump jovial wizard, even more jovial with the amount of wine he'd consumed that morning. He had needed to do some business with his British counterpart and was delighted when Sirius appeared. Sirius had not expected to have to do any work, that morning. He did the bits of business Giles put before him. Sirius did reduce the number of internships with Gringotts to 1. He explained relations with the goblins were never good, but the Goblins were likely to be appeased at the thought of having the best the French could send. Sirius took a gulp of his very good wine and hoped this French intern would not start another Goblin War. The previous three had in 1492, 1512 and 1544. Sirius asked if Claude and Juliette Graignon would be attending any soirees over the Yule festivities. Delacour had replied, "tres certainment." Sirius had asked them about any children. Delacour had explained that they had no wizarding children. Sadly, they'd had a squib daughter. Most regrettable. They'd invited a cousin over, Hector Dagworth-Granger. Sadly, he was too busy with his potions too attend.
Hermione's parents had returned with the Christmas goodies and were shocked to find the house cleaned up.
"What's up, Hermione?" her mother asked.
"It's James. He's been adopted by a family in the United States and we his friends didn't have a clue and nor did he. Sirius came by. He said that we are related to Hector Dagworth-Granger." Her father spluttered his drink over the tablecloth.
"Yes," he said, through gritted teeth. "I am quite aware that Hector is a relation."
"Does he have a telephone?"
"No, Hermione, does not."
"Perhaps we could borrow an owl off Lord Black?" Her father gave Hermione a very dark look.
"James asks if Claude and Juliette Graignon are related to us?"
"Yes, Hermione they are our relations, too. Why does James ask this?" Hermione's father was getting irritated, now.
"Oh, he just wants me to go across to France to tell them to write to their daughter, because it is the right thing to do."
"And he wants this, why?" Hermione's father's voice had an icy tone to it that Hermione had never heard before.
"BECAUSE Claudette is his new mother," Hermione almost fled.
"That's sweet," her father said.
Just before their evening meal, Sirius Black showed up. He smelt of wine. Hermione's mother almost threw him out. Sirius wasn't drunk. He chatted with Hermione. He got to the part about French interns and Hermione stopped him. The look she gave Sirius reminded him of the looks his mother used to give him, only worse.
"French interns at Gringotts caused three Goblin Wars in 1492, 1512 and 1542. Translate Dealing with the Goblins of Gringotts into French and give a copy to your French counterpart. I think it's a bad idea just showing up at James'. It might be something that Amelia Bones should take the lead on."
Sirius thought Hermione made excellent suggestions. He ran into his grandfather, who wanted to know what he'd done. He then gave Sirius a look just like the one Hermione had given him. Sirius explained what Hermione had said. Arcturus told him to go do it. When Sirius returned half and hour later, Arcturus drew him into the Study.
"You've got some brains after all. I'm going to hold a Boxing Day Feast. We used to do that. I'm reviving it. It will cement the Potter-Black Alliance. We'll invite the children. I'll send Black Owls to all. I'll include Dagworth-Granger and Delacour, his family and the Graignons. Yes, I'll include the Grangers. They'll be under my protection. The Grangers knew the Potters. Their stories; Those can be their contribution to the Alliance and their reason for being present. Come my grandson, we have preparations to make."
Harry was getting up for another day in the United States of America. He'd liked his first day. Second day he explored down by the creek. There were shrubs that concealed somewhere he could make his den. That's what he'd tell his new parents. In reality, it would be his place to do magic. That it was Christmas Eve didn't really mean anything to Harry. Back at the Dursleys it meant he had extra work to do. Here he had far less to do. Harry had heard kids who had been adopted discussing their 'tactics'. Apparently, it paid to tell the marks, what ever they were, that you loved them, early. It made them all mushy.
At lunch Harry said, "Thanks for adopting me. It was a bit of a surprise. I think I'm supposed to tell you that I love you and you'll go all mushy. I would, but I don't remember what love is. I certainly do like all of you and I like it here."
"That's very nice of you, honey." Claudette said. "We all like you, too, James. Fred and I were hoping to love you right away, but it'll take time, I think." Fred was nodding. George looked like he was thinking. Things were not looking good for cousin Petunia. More evidence of abuse.
The novel was Harry being taken to a Midnight Mass. Claudette was a Catholic. So was George. Fred wasn't. Harry didn't know what he was and thought it would be rude to ask. Harry believed religion was something very personal. He decided that he preferred his services in English. He could learn Church Latin and he did have an old Jerusalem Bible that Petunia had picked up for him. It had all sorts of things the modern Catholics no longer considered even Apocryphal like the Books of Enoch. Harry liked reading about the mighty Nephilim and their role as Watchers. Harry didn't know those books had been withdrawn. The service over, Harry turned to his new family, he could thank God for them, and said,
"Merry Christmas to my new family. The first of many."
Three 'Merry Christmases, James, followed suite. At least, Harry thought on the ride home, he hadn't stormed out. He'd been five and he'd not eaten for a week. He had not been to Church since. He kept coming back to that. At home, he got ready for bed and slept til 7, when he got up and made breakfast - omelettes and pancakes (just in case), he prepared the vegetables and put the turkey in the oven. He could do this in his sleep. This was just as well. He put the omelettes to keep warm and the pancakes, too. He ate and went back to bed. He got up again at 10 and went to check on the meal. He pulled the turkey out and basted it again and added the stuffing. He started the vegetables. Claudette just let him get on with it. Harry went to shower and brush his teeth. Harry liked to blanche the vegetables. He thought it kept their flavour better. It locked in their flavour. Parsnips and Brussel sprouts, he realised, meant his family were trying to give him a traditional English Christmas. There was no bread sauce and apparently Cranberry sauce had not made it across the ocean. Harry found some bread and started cutting it up. He was interrupted by George asking him,
"Come into the lounge, James. We're going to open presents." This was new. Harry never got to open presents at the Dursleys. He went into the lounge and sat down. He was admiring the decorated Christmas tree, when Claudette asked him,
"How many Christmas meals have you prepared, James?"
"This will be my third. Last year's was pretty darn amazing. Not that I got to eat any of it."
"We'll be an extra three. Will that cause a problem?" Harry laughed. Vernon and Dudley ate enough for 5. He'd done enough for 7. He said so.
"Did you like the omelettes?"
"Yes, they were very good," Fred acknowledged. About 11, the Carter's arrived. Introductions were made. Jacob Carter was a 'Loutenant' Colonel. His son Mark was 16 and his daughter Samantha was 19 in a few days. She was in College. Harry wondered why Samantha was wearing pig tails. Something was off, but Harry didn't know what. Presents were exchanged. Periodically, Claudette and Harry went out to check on the meal. Harry added the trimmings. Claudette watched. Harry was enjoying himself.
The seven sat down for lunch at 1. George carved the turkey. Everyone had plenty. The bread sauce was a hit. Mark and Samantha were next to each other. Harry was worried they were going to throw food over each other and him as he was opposite Mark. Harry had some wine and felt a little loose tongued. George was after something.
"I'm sorry Jacob, but could you swap places with your son. I'm worried they are about to start a food fight. My new family went out of their way to give me a full English Christmas dinner and I cooked it for them. I don't think a food fight is appropriate."
Jacob rolled his eyes, but swapped places. "James, a certain person told me you had an eventful flight."
"He's a bit of a joker, isn't he?" Harry asked.
"You got me, George, you got me good." Jacob laughed. George chuckled.
"Is there any sauce, we should have?" Samantha asked.
"Cranberry sauce. It's not available, so no big deal."
"I think blueberry would go well with turkey," Samantha declared.
"Why don't you find out?" Harry egged her on. Samantha ran off to the kitchen and came back with some blueberry. She tried a bit and didn't like it. Her brother laughed.
Jacob intervened, "We usually eat turkey at thanksgiving."
"I don't know what that is, but this is only my third full day as an American."
"Are you always this anal?" Samantha said, trying to goad him.
"You remind me of a friend of mine. I was going to start her school next term, but I got adopted instead. She's 8 going on 18. You're 18 going on 8."
"My mother died a few years ago."
"I lost mine a long time ago. I decided to be all I could be, for her and my dad. Is this how you think your mother would want you to be?"
Sam ate in silence after that. "Did this kid really think he was better than her? Did he think he was perfect?" She must have said that out load, because James answered her.
"How can I be better than you? We've only just met. Of course, I'm not perfect."
Christmas pudding and brandy sauce didn't go down quite as well. Harry knew there was nothing wrong with the way he had prepared it. It wasn't too everyone's taste.
Fred cornered Harry just as the Carter's were leaving.
"That was very rude, James. You should not have said those things to Sam."
"What is she studying?"
"Astrophysics on an Air Force scholarship. She is the only girl doing the course."
"I could have said it was the wine talking, but that wouldn't be entirely true. The way she looked, she could have been studying 'home economics'. She's a competitor to those men and they'll eat her alive the way she is right now. She'll have to prove that she is better than they are every day of her course. It probably eats at Mark that he cannot protect her. I've been the one everyone picked on. My refuge was the library. I'm too small for self-defence. Sam's just the right height and weight. She won't like fitting in by being one of the guys, but it's that or she washes out. Air Force wouldn't give her a scholarship, if they didn't think she was worth the investment, would they?"
"No, son, it wouldn't," Fred said. Sam gasped. They hadn't heard her come to say goodbye. The three went into the hallway to say their goodbyes. Sam hugged Harry, which got Jacob to raise an eyebrow.
George looked at them. "The Carters will be joining us again, tomorrow. We'll have soup, a fish course, prime rib of beef with seasonal vegetables, pumpkin pie and cheese and biscuits. Any lkhjgdrequests, James?"
"An extra stomach," James replied. They all laughed. "Any larger meals?"
"The Airforce throws an extra special meal at graduation. It's seven courses. Coffee at the end and a pate before or after the fish."
"Can I make notes? I'm always interested in expanding my range of recipes."
"Very well, James." This was going to be interesting.
Harry copied down information about each of the courses and how everything was prepared, cooked and served. When the Carters arrived, Harry noticed that Sam's pigtails had gone. She now sported a short haired style that suited her. At least, Harry thought so.
They sat down for lunch. Mark and Sam were separated, again. The conversation turned to fish. Claudette thought salmon an overdone fish course. Harry suggested trout. Claudette had a recipe her mother had cooked. She hadn't cooked it in a long time. There was a place not too far away at Canyon Tailrace where they could fish for trout.
Over in England, Hermione was getting ready for the evening with the Blacks. Her parents were struggling with the whole idea of going. Hermione told them to tell some stories about the Potters and they'd be fine. She was more worried about meeting her magical cousins and uncle. She knew James had asked her to do something for him, but Hermione wasn't sure she could do it, especially in French. She had written James' new address on a card, she was going to present. She would be wearing a shimmering silver dress that made he bushy air and big front teeth all the more pronounced. James was going to owe her big time.
Arriving at the party, there were introduction made to everyone. The Grangers told their stories about the Potters. 15 members of the Potter-Black alliance were present, beside the Delacours and Graignons. Mr Delacour received 'Dealing with the Goblins of Gringotts' in French from Sirius. It was as this transaction was being conducted that Mr Dagworth-Granger arrived. He'd been working on a potion. He did recognize his brother talking about the Potters. He noticed Hermione standing off to one side.
"Are you a squib, too?" Hector Dagworth-Granger asked.
"No, I'm a little witch," Hermione answered. "Will you be talking with your brother tonight, Uncle?"
"Why would I do that?"
"My parents knew the Potters. That's why Lord Black invited them tonight." Hermione moved back to where her parents were.
"I could take them away from them," Hector said.
"I suppose I could see that you kept your meetings, at least for a while, before I'd get interested in your potions and then neither of us would have a clue where we were supposed to be."
"That's our Hermione," her father said. "Always after new knowledge."
"That's to be encouraged," Hector agreed. "I shall send information about potions and a potions kit. I'll keep the exploding ones away from you, young lady."
"I should hope so. Blowing up my house, wouldn't go down well with the neighbours. Might give the Muggleworthy Excuse Committee a real headache." Hermione smiled.
Her father answered a question, "Yes, the Potters told us to move in the summer of '81. They thought they would soon die. It was for our protection and perhaps Hermione's."
"I called Harry Potter, a holy terror. Someone who shall remain nameless decided to get him a toy broom for his first year's birthday. He would never give me a moments peace. He'd take great delight in dive bombing me anywhere in their house." For some reason all eyes were on Sirius Black. Hermione was grateful for that.
She saw Susan and went to join her friends. She explained that James had been adopted by a family in the USA. Something he'd not known was going to happen. She told them he'd asked her to explain, because she was the best explainer. Susan said her Aunt was very cross because an adoption had occurred without her department being informed. She was going to demand answers from MACUSA. Hermione noticed that Sirius was angry about it, as well.
Hermione gulped a couple of time. Now was time to approach her cousins. She'd practiced her French.
"Hello, my cousins. I'm Hermione Granger, a witch. My friend James is a wizard and he's been adopted by a family called Hammond in the USA. His mother is Claudette Hammond nee Graignon. He says you should write to her, because it's the right thing to do." She handed them the card with James' address on it. They took the card and didn't destroy it.
Hermione went home wishing she could simply pick up the phone and speak with James. She counted the evening a win. She would have to see what developed, of course.