Hut-on-the-Rock (SNIPPET)
fromSorted into Her
Rubeus was confused. He had his orders, and they were, if he was honest with himself, rather prestigious.
They were also turning out to be confusing. And making him uneasy.
Gathering the special package from the goblins was fine, and a source of great pride for someone who'd been mostly mocked, insulted and spit upon his entire existence among the witches and wizards of Britain. He was encouraged *ahem* to not spend more time than he had to out amongst the Muggles, where he'd draw unwanted attention, which made this outing even more special.
Rescuing little Harry from the Dursleys was fun, no doubt about it. Even Rubeus, who'd learned to think of himself as "dim," should have predicted the fallout from that, however.
All non-giant kids looked tiny to Rubeus, so he hadn't jumped to the conclusion that Harry Potter was particularly small. Thinking back, though, he was - plumb underfed, in fact.
The little boy had poured out his heart to Rubeus, emboldened by his presence. Rubeus had been tempted to curse the Dursleys - maybe give one of them a pig's tail - probably the boy, who'd made fists and started to approach Harry until he saw the expression on their visitor's face. He settled for silencing them, which had the added effect of making them all, even the idiot boy, sit back down and eventually give up on shouting and screaming at Harry.
It all came out. Years of starvation, being bundled into a cupboard with a single blanket on a hard, cold floor. Harry had, apparently, found a torn and tattered bit of camping foam in a rubbish bin a couple of years ago, but that was the only improvement in his condition. Getting the back of Vernon's hand until he learned how to dodge and judge his distance from the brutal man. Learning to live with broken bones and massive bruises from the fat thug of a boy and his thug friends. They reminded Rubeus of nothing so much as the Slytherin gangs that Dippet had tolerated because he wanted to pacify the reactionary purebloods on the Hogwarts Board of governors.
His aunt, pinching the boy until he cried, then pinching him more and forcing him to scrub floors and work a dangerous range when he was barely past being a toddler. While the Dursleys looked furious, there was also fear in their eyes. Clearly, they hadn't expected the little boy to remember his mistreatment in such detail. Then again, it was clear he'd never had paper and pencil, books, anything, really, to occupy his time but morning-to-night chores and brooding.
Okay, Rubeus was dim, but even a dim bulb gives off some light.
The concept of school before going to a magical academy was foreign to wizarding Britain, and giants had no schools, but he had a vague notion of how they worked. He'd been dealing with Muggleborns for almost half a century, after all, When Harry described how he was harshly punished for doing well at school, that had just made Rubeus even angrier, and he glared especially hard at all three Dursleys in turn. But he had an uneasy feeling when he discovered that whatever teachers or Healers the Muggle school had that had noticed Harry was always favouring a limb of some sort and sometimes had bruises just below his collar tended to disappear, and never had their reports acted upon. A couple of occasions when Harry was so injured he'd needed the A&E - a Muggle emergency healing facility, apparently - and the hospitals had informed the police, both the hospital records and the police report had also disappeared.
He was starting to have a very uncomfortable feeling. The great man that he was, Albus Dumbledore had his detractors. Many people, not just the Death Eaters, had suggested he was past his prime not just as a wizard, but mentally. Rubeus knew personally he was still extremely powerful. If a half-giant could sense your magic, you were strong by definition. And he'd seen Dumbledore be quite wily, within recent memory. But he remembered Old Binns before he died. He was sharp as a tack when it came to remembering what Gorethews had said to Selwyn's Regent in 1521, but couldn't remember the names of any of his students, nor which course he was teaching.
He shook his head. Ye'r comparin' Dumbledore ter Binns, Mr 'agrid? he thought. That was scarcely gratitude. But, another part of his mind said, what if it ain' a matter of gratitude, but just facin'' facks?
Surely not everything he'd been instructed to do was "mission critical" as the Muggleborns sometimes put it. He resolved to tell Harry as much as possible about the world he'd clearly known nothing about. The Dursleys had slandered and insulted James and Lily, and that was an injustice his heart would not tolerate. From how to get to the Express to how the Pureboods would react, and especially the children of the Death Eaters, he was going to answer any and all questions. That resolution quieted his conscience. A bit.
He cancelled the Silencing Charm on Petunia. "Tunier, you be'er lissen' up. Dunno who's been viddlin' wi' ter Muggle Aurors an' 'ealers, but it stops now. If yer don' wan' ter spend yer toime in no Muggle gaols, you best 'eed m' words."
Met with nothing but inarticulate screeching, he re-Silenced her. He slowly moved his glare from one Dursley to the next. Even the bully finally seemed to see a bit of sense.
The boy slept cuddled next to him, paid for a copy of the Daily Prophet, and in the morning, they left without saying a word to the Dursleys. He was tempted to tow the boat the Dursleys had arrived on the island with behind his scow, but decided keeping confidential for Harry's sake was a higher priority than venting his spleen on them. He'd warned them, that was enough.
He felt a little guilt. He'd be deceiving Dumbledore by omission, after all. But he felt a great deal guiltier over what had become of little Harry. And just like that, a stratagem occurred to Rubeus.
He wasn't normally one for them. Crack some heads, use the crossbow, that was his style. It's why the Acromantula respected him. But if he was going to meddle in the affairs of wizards, he'd best adopt their ways. When he took Harry to Diagon, he'd be on the lookout for Professors McGonagall and Sprout and Flitwick. Pass Harry off to them, go do his business at Gringotts, and head to the Leaky Cauldron. He internally debated telling McGonagall that, strictly speaking, he wasn't meant to pass Harry off, and that he'd appreciate her not bringing it up unless the Headmaster asked. That felt about right.
That way, Harry'd learn more than he could teach him, and McGonagall or whoever would eventually be seen as the cause of that.
