Stargate Reclamation (Harry Potter/Stargate)

It had been a long, tense ten minutes since Hagrid had introduced himself. Harry stood frozen with his back against the metal fence, gripping his bag of money with tight white knuckles, and not saying a word as he watched the giant's every move. Hagrid had spent the time going around the alley, collecting the trio of unconscious men — Dave, Jerry, and Fred — and then taken them over to one of the larger bins, opening the lid to begin dumping them inside one by one.

"Yeh really did a number on this one, didn't yeh, Harry," said Hagrid, sounding impressed as he dropped blue shirted Jerry inside. There was a massive, purple and black bruise spreading across Jerry's face from where Harry had hit him with the metal bin lid.

With the three men stashed into the bin, Hagrid brushed his hands on his black overcoat, then reached into one of the pockets. Harry tensed, readying his telekinesis and preparing for a weapon of some kind to be taken out, but then Hagrid pulled out an umbrella. It was much too small for his giant size, leaving Harry confused until Hagrid tapped each man once on the head with the tip. A small flash of light came into existence each time, lasting barely a second before disappearing.

"Right, tha' should do it," mumbled Hagrid.

"What did you just do to them?" asked Harry, speaking for the first time since realising the man in front of him was a wizard.

"Nothin' much," said Hagrid. "Jus' made 'em forget what's happened, that's all."

"You wiped their memories?" Harry half stated, half shouted.

Harry now looked at the small umbrella as if it was a weapon a million times deadlier than the gun Dave had aimed at him before. Harry's mind was one of, if not the most important things about him — his smarts and knowledge was invaluable. He dreaded to think that this giant, or any witch or wizard, could take that away from him.

"Not really, more like confused 'em." Hagrid scratched his chin, suddenly looking quite sheepish. "I never could do them memory charms … can't even remember the spell meself. Confusin' muggles is much easier — though, it has been a while since I las' did it — should be alrigh'. It can't end up worse than the las' time — poor lad thought he was a chicken fer a week … couldn't stop clucking…"

As funny as the thought of Dave and Jerry clucking was, Harry's concerns about getting his memory messed with weren't diminished one bit.

"Anyway, where was I?" continued Hagrid. "Ah, yes — almost forgot." Hagrid began digging around his pockets again, his arms disappearing up their elbows. Harry was less worried about whatever the giant was searching for this time; it couldn't be anything worse than that innocent looking, but severely dangerous umbrella. Sticking out his mouth in concentration, Hagrid rummaged around. "Where is the damn thing? Not tha' — maybe in there, no — oh, been lookin' fer that — ah! Here it is!"

Hagrid pulled out what looked like a brown ball of fur, but then two eyes opened, and a pair of wings stretched; it was a living, breathing owl, and it looked none too pleased about its living conditions, glaring up at Hagrid and then relentlessly nipping at his fingers.

"Stop that, you little bugger," said Hagrid sternly, flicking the owl so hard it flopped backwards, dazed and staring at the sky. From another pocket, Hagrid pulled out a sheet of parchment and quill, and began scribbling a message. Hagrid mumbled to himself as he wrote.

"Dear Mr Dumbledore. Found Harry, he's safe. Taking him back home now. It's very late, will sort the rest tomorrow. Hope you're well. Hagrid."

Hagrid passed the letter to the recovered owl, who took it and sent the giant a venomous look before flapping its wings and vanishing into the night.

"Right, come on, Harry. Best be on our way," said Hagrid, already taking steps down the alley, making the ground quake. How this giant had ever managed to sneak up on him, Harry wondered.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," stated Harry.

Hagrid stopped mid-step, spinning around and just now noticing that Harry hadn't been following. "What? Why not?"

Harry sent the giant a look of disbelief. "Why not? Why would I? I don't know you!"

"But I'm Hagrid! Didn't yeh hear—"

"Of course, I heard you," Harry interrupted hotly. "But what difference does it make? So what if you apparently knew my parents. I don't know you — you're a stranger to me. Why should I follow you anywhere?" Frustration leaked into Harry's voice, coming from his tiredness. "You haven't even told me why you're here!"

Hagrid perked up, going from hurt at Harry's words to confident. "Professor Dumbledore sent me to find yeh."

The alley fell silent. Harry waited for Hagrid to elaborate, whilst the giant stood there smiling, acting as if mentioning the name Dumbledore explained everything, clearing up Harry's concerns. It did the opposite; Harry questioned why Dumbledore would send someone now, after ten years of leaving him to the Dursley's abuse.

"Why would he do that?" asked Harry. "How did you even find me?"

Harry had been keeping an eye out for suspicious people watching him, and besides the looks he got for carrying an owl around the city for most of the day, he hadn't noticed anyone. But he must have missed someone, because how else would Hagrid know he was in this alley?

"Well, that's my doing, really," said Hagrid. He went back into his pocket but this time found what he looking for almost immediately. It was a couple of yellowish envelopes with very familiar purple wax seals on the back. "I wanted to make sure yeh got yer Hogwarts letter. Went to Dumbledore to ask him to send another, you know, jus' in case yeh didn't get the first one, but he told me not to worry. Good man that Dumbledore, a good man. Eventually, he said he'd send another, but the address on this one was different."

Harry could see the emerald lettering on the front of one envelope; it said his name, but the address was that of Little Whinging's train station instead of the cupboard under the stairs. Checking the other one, this was more recent as it had the address of the alley they were in. Harry realised in that moment that the wizards didn't need to spy on him if they could always find out where he was by way of writing a letter. It would be pointless to run from Hagrid — as his instincts increasingly told him to — because the giant would easily find him again. There was no escape.

"Yeh scared us teh death," continued Hagrid loudly, unaware of Harry's turmoil. "What would make yeh want to do somethin' so stupid as to run away from yer home?"

Stupid?! It was stupid of him to run away from the place he was constantly abused, thought Harry incredulously. He very nearly snapped at Hagrid, but stopped himself upon seeing the genuine concern on the giant's face. The giant seemed like a nice guy who wore his heart on his sleeve. Harry didn't think he knew anything about the abuse, but could the same be said of Dumbledore.

"I had my reasons," said Harry. Choosing to say nothing about the abuse until he found out more about Dumbledore, and why the man was so involved in his life.

Although Hagrid looked like he wanted to press for more, he didn't. "Well, whatever yer reasons are, we'll sort 'em out later. We need to get yeh back. The streets aren't safe."

"I'm never going back there, Hagrid. I never want to see that place — or those people — ever again." Harry had only just escaped from the Dursleys; he was never going back to that life. Hagrid would have to force him, and Harry would put up one heck of fight, be sure of that.

Truly flabbergasted, Hagrid could only open and close his mouth, his mind struggling for what to say in response to Harry's vehement refusal. Or it might have been because the giant hadn't envisioned the night going this way.

"Wha … What do yeh mean?" Hagrid eventually said. "They're yer family!"

Harry's mouth spoke before his brain could stop it. "The Dursleys — family?! Don't make me laugh! Those horrible people were never my family." Harry went into his own pockets and pulled out his creased Hogwarts letter. "Tell me, Hagrid — why until yesterday when I received this letter, did I have no idea that I was a wizard! What sort of family keeps that a secret?"

Every ounce of bewilderment on Hagrid's face died an ugly death, replaced by brow furrowing fury. "Yeh — yeh didn't know — about magic? About our world, yer parent's world?" At Harry's shake of the head, Hagrid grew angrier, raising his head and screaming to the night sky. "DURSLEY!"

The shout was so loud that Harry thought the Dursleys might well have been able to hear it all the way from Privet Drive. The volume caused some groaning from the bin in which the trio of men were stashed, but they remained unconscious.

"Yeh mean to tell me tha' yeh know nothing?" said Hagrid furiously. "What about the letter Professor Dumbledore left yeh? Didn't yeh read it?"

Harry thought hard for moment. "If you mean the letter from when I was left at the Dursleys, then no, I didn't read it. My uncle burned it."

"Tha' foul, troll smellin', good fer nothin' muggle! I knew he was the wors' sort! But to never even tell yeh!" Hagrid took some deep, thunderous breaths to try and calm himself down. "Tha' means yeh don't know about Hogwarts, do yeh? Yer parents enrolled yeh when you were jus' a baby – oh, yer parents – surely yeh know about yer mum and dad?!"

"No, I don't" Harry lied.

If Harry was to go by everything the Dursley's had told him about his parents, then he was telling the truth, but luckily Harry had his own memories, even as inaccessible as they were. He tried to think back to his parents for a moment, but stopped once his mind redirected him to the night they were killed, as always happened. Despite this, Harry knew that his parents loved him, that's what was important, and he'd recently learned that they were magical too.

"Yeh don't know … yeh don't know …" Hagrid repeated, running his fingers through his thick beard. "This changes' things … What to do … Need to tell Dumbledore – Gah! That was me last owl!"

Did that imply Hagrid usually carried more than one around with him, like a wizard's version of a telephone?

Harry yawned loudly whilst watching Hagrid try to figure out what to do. As fun and enlightening as this had been, Harry really wanted to find somewhere to sleep. Telling Hagrid this got him a frustrating response.

"I can't jus' let yeh go off on yer own, Harry. It's not safe!"

"I can take care of myself just fine," countered Harry briskly, gesturing to the bin-load of his would-be muggers, Dave's quite snores coming from within.

"Blimey, Harry. Muggles — they were jus' muggles. It's magical folk you need to be worried about! Merlin knows there's a lot tha' would do anythin' to get their hands on you!"

Harry eyes suddenly narrowed. "What do you mean by that, Hagrid? Who would want to get me?"

"That's not important right now." Hagrid waved it off quickly, but Harry disagreed. Before he could press for more, Hagrid continued, taking them away from the topic. "Besides, I'm supposed to take yeh to get yer school supplies."

Hagrid was clearly working under the assumption that Harry was going to be attending Hogwarts, as if he'd already sent back his affirmation. He had not — Harry didn't even know where his barn owl friend was at the moment. But with what he'd learned about Dumbledore's involvement in his life, Harry didn't think he'd get much of a choice about whether or not to attend the magic school; even with his powers — what use would they be in the face of fully trained witches and wizards?

"This night's not gone how it should've," bemoaned Hagrid, looking as tired as Harry felt. "We'll sort it out in the mornin'."

"I'm not going back to the Dursleys, Hagrid," reminded Harry, ready to resist.

"I won't force yeh to, Harry," said Hagrid. "The Cauldron can't be that far. Hopefully, Tom has some rooms free fer tonight…"

Harry had little time to think about what this 'Cauldron' was when Hagrid told him to follow, waiting this time for Harry to do so before going too far. This was a kidnapping, or it felt a lot like one to Harry. This might be his last chance to run, but how far would he get before Hagrid found him again with one of those letters? On the other hand, he could go with Hagrid, who might take him to the magic alley he'd had been searching for; Hagrid did say something about taking him shopping. Weighing the options, Harry walked after Hagrid, placing a minuscule amount of trust in the nice seeming giant.

Just before walking back into the darkest part of the alley, something caught Harry's eye. Dave's gun was sticking out from beneath a pile of rubbish, and making sure that Hagrid wasn't watching, he picked it up with his telekinesis and put it in his bag. Compared to Hagrid's memory wiping umbrella, the revolver was unimpressive, but Dave had proven that the weapon was functional, and Harry felt a lot safer following Hagrid with it than without.

"Stick close, Harry," instructed Hagrid when the reemerged on the street. There were a few people about, but none of them looked like witches or wizards. If they were, they clearly hadn't seen the likes of Hagrid before, because most of them took one look at the giant and decided the best thing to do was walk the opposite direction.

"Do you know where we're going?" asked Harry a little while later, after Hagrid had taken them down the same street for the third time.

"Aye," replied Hagrid, though his words were made less believable by how he was standing on his tip-toes, looking down the street for something; a sign perhaps.

In the meantime, Harry asked questions about various things, but stayed away from topics like the Dursleys and Dumbledore; the former because he didn't want to think about his stupid relatives, and the latter because Hagrid seemed to worship Dumbledore, meaning anything the man said about the headmaster would need to be taken with a pinch of salt. So far, Harry had learned that Hagrid was actually a half-giant on his mother's side of the family. His father was a normal wizard, and a brave one at that if going by how massive Hagrid described his mother was. A brave man indeed.

Turning left down another street, Harry asked another question that popped to his mind. "Did you go to Hogwarts, Hagrid?"

"I did," answered Hagrid rather shortly.

Harry tilted his head to the side. "What made you want to work there after you graduated?"

"Ah, well — you see," stammered Hagrid, avoiding Harry's eyes. "I didn' actually graduate… Got to meh third year and was expelled, sadly. Wand snapped an' everythin'. But got teh keep the parts."

Harry glanced at Hagrid's umbrella, having a feeling that he knew where those wand parts had gone. "But you used magic on those guys back in the alley."

Hagrid quickly looked around, checking that no one heard Harry say that. "I'd appreciate it if yeh didn't tell anyone abou' that. Professor Dumbledore let me use magic to help find yeh, but probably shudn't have done that."

So, Dumbledore apparently had the power to give people permission to use magic when they weren't allowed to. It must've had something to do with one of the other positions he held, the ones listed after his name on the Hogwarts letter. Hagrid clammed up when Harry asked what he got expelled for, but he was clearly still angry about.

Harry's mind wandered as they continued to walk, now in silence after that sensitive topic. Was going to a magic school necessary to use magic? If Hagrid was banned after he got expelled, it sounded like that was the case. But how was this enforced? Hagrid could still use magic, and he wasn't acting like a man worried about being caught, but was that Dumbledore's doing? Would Harry be able to use magic if he didn't go to Hogwarts? Attendance became more mandatory with every bit of new information Harry learned.

"Here it is." Hagrid stopped suddenly.

They were in front of an abandoned looking building. It used to be a store of some kind, but the front windows were now boarded up, and the green paint had mostly peeled off. Hung above the door was a sign that said 'The Leaky Cauldron'. It didn't look very magical at all.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked Harry.

"Of course, it is," replied Hagrid happily, pushing open the door. "Come on."

It was even worse on the inside; it was dark and dingy. Harry looked around for the lights, but there were none. In fact, the place didn't seem to have any electricity at all. It was as if Harry had stepped backwards in time.

Walking through the small vestibule, Harry saw his first signs of life as they came out into a much larger room filled with messy tables and untucked chairs. A fireplace glowed at the far side of the room, and candles were dotted around, giving off more light than Harry thought they should be. Still, there was no signs of modern living.

"Hagrid!"

The shout came from a balding man behind the bar, who was busy cleaning a glass with a rag. Couldn't he use magic to do that? He put the glass down as Hagrid approached. Harry stayed at the back of the room, holding his bag, and the gun within, closer for comfort.

"What a pleasant surprise. Have a seat — the usual?" asked the barkeep.

"I shouldn't"—Hagrid glanced back at Harry, seeing if he would object—"oh, alright, why not. Thanks, Tom."

Tom disappeared behind the counter for a moment before popping back up with a giant tankard. He filled it with a thick green liquid that made Harry's stomach churn, but Hagrid enjoyed it, taking a big refreshing drink.

"Ah! That's the stuff."

"Long night, Hagrid?" enquired Tom, back to cleaning glasses.

"Somethin' like that." Hagrid glanced around at the tables, taking another sip. "Looks like you did as well."

"Indeed," sighed Tom, but with a smile. "It was a busy night. Most of the regulars were in. You know how rowdy that lot can get, but they're good for business. Damn near drank me out of Firewhisky."

From the look Tom sent Hagrid, and the way the half-giant chuckled into his drink, Harry had a feeling that Hagrid was one of these so-called regulars.

Taking one last massive gulp, Hagrid set down his empty tankard and wiped his mouth. "Anyway, Tom. I was hopin' yeh'd have some room available fer tonight."

"Too tired to make the trip back up to Hogwarts?" Tom laughed, then spun around to get a small key from a hook behind him. "You're in luck, my friend. Not many staying with me right now — the room should be made up and ready."

"Actually, I'll be needin' two rooms," corrected Hagrid.

When Tom gave him a puzzled look, Hagrid directed the attention to Harry, who had so far been able to quietly observe the exchange from a distance. Tom was surprised, having not noticed Harry standing there, but then he looked closer and gasped.

"Is that—" Tom interrupted himself, turning to Hagrid who nodded, before looking back at Harry. "By Merlin…"

The next thing Harry knew, Tom rounded the bar so fast that he might as well have vaulted over it. One of Harry's hands dove into his bag, fingers curling around his gun as a precaution, surprised by the behaviour.

"Bless my soul. Harry Potter, as I live and breathe!" exclaimed Tom, shaking Harry's free hand vigorously. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter, truly a pleasure!"

Harry nodded numbly, unsure of what else he could do, and fighting the urge to send the man away with telekinesis. How did this guy know him anyway, and why was he acting like this? Harry looked past Tom to Hagrid, but the half-giant was looking at the wall behind the bar as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"It's good to have you back, Mr Potter," finished Tom, though he'd yet to let go of Harry's hand.

After an awkward moment, Hagrid stood up and came over, saving Harry from the barkeep. "Reckon we should be gettin' to bed. Big day tomorrow — taking Harry shoppin' fer his school supplies."

Tom snapped back to reality, suddenly embarrassed. "Of course, of course. You must be so excited, Mr Potter. I remember my school days — what a wonderful time it was. Let me go get another key for you."

"Thanks, Tom," said Hagrid as the barkeep hurried back to the bar. As Tom was looking, picking up one key before shaking his head and picking up another, Hagrid called out, remembering something he needed to do. "Have you by chance got an owl I could use?"

"Not at the moment, no. Sorry, Hagrid."

But as Tom finished speaking, there was a flutter of feathers and Harry's friend, the barn owl, landed on the table next to him. How did it even manage to get inside? Harry couldn't see any windows. It stared up at Harry, and he knew it was waiting to see if Harry had a letter to send yet.

"This one of yours, Tom?" asked Hagrid.

"It's the owl that brought my Hogwarts letter," explained Harry, speaking before Tom could.

Hagrid pulled out more parchment from his pockets and began scribbling another letter, but Harry was too distracted by Tom arriving back with a room key to see what was being written.

"Take this to Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid instructed, attaching the letter to the owl's leg. The owl looked at Harry, hooted once which Harry took to mean goodbye, and then left the way it got in.

"I'll be surprised if I get a reply tonight," stated Hagrid, and then he spoke to Tom. "How much do I owe yeh for the rooms?"

Tom waved it off. "Don't worry about it. Call it helping out a friend."

Harry assumed the generosity had more to do with Tom's strange behaviour towards him, especially with the less than subtle glances the balding man was shooting his way.

Hagrid said his thanks again and then directed Harry over to a staircase in the corner of the room. Harry was about to follow Hagrid up when Tom appeared in front of him again, still smiling widely.

"I just want to say thank you, Mr Potter," said Tom. "Thank you so much, for everything!"

Harry ran up the stairs, catching up with Hagrid as they came out into a very, very long corridor; Harry couldn't see either end, and it was lined with numbered doors on either side.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked as they walked along.

"You mean Tom? He's jus' a friendly guy," replied Hagrid.

"No, I meant—" But Hagrid's strides suddenly got longer, and Harry found himself needing to jog to keep up. "Hagrid — would you — please slow down!"

Hagrid did one better and stopped all together, almost causing Harry to go past him. But if Harry had thought Hagrid had stopped to speak, then he was wrong because the giant was fiddling with one of the small keys, trying to put it into a door.

"Yours is the one across," said Hagrid, dropping the second key into Harry's hands. The half-giant finally got his door open and was about to go inside when Harry called out.

"Hagrid!"

Sighing loudly, Hagrid noticeably deflated as he spun around.

"Why did Tom act like that? How does he know me?" Harry looked at Hagrid with pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know."

"It's because he does know you, Harry," said Hagrid, continuing before Harry could voice his obvious confusion. "Or, he knows of you, at least. Everyone does … Doubt there's a witch or wizard alive that doesn't know yer name … You're famous, Harry."

"But I don't understand," said Harry bitterly. "How can I be famous when I didn't even know about magic until yesterday?" Harry saw Hagrid's black eyes take on a tone of sadness and pity. "There's something you're not telling me, Hagrid."

"It's a long story … It has to do with yer parents, and Vol … Volde … and a very bad man." Hagrid shuddered, and started to breathe harder, like it was hard for him to say even that much. "I don't know if I'm the right person ter be tellin' yeh all this…"

"I need to know, Hagrid!" insisted Harry loudly. "What about my parents? What happened? Tell me how I can be famous in a world that I didn't know existed—"

"Because yer alive, Harry!" shouted Hagrid. The half-giant pointed at Harry's lightning bolt scar. "Yer famous because yeh've got that scar, and yer alive to talk abou' it!"

Harry was frozen by Hagrid's sudden snap, but he reached up to touch his scar, which had started to ache slightly. It was the one thing he had left of that night, except for the memory of his parents being killed. But how could a scar make him famous?

Hagrid calmed down and looked guilty, speaking again but softly this time. "I know yeh've got questions, Harry, and yeh've got the right to know what happened. But now's not the time. Get some rest — we'll talk tomorrow."

How was Harry supposed to get any sleep after this? He stood there, trapped inside his thoughts long after Hagrid had pushed him into what would be his room for the night. At some point, he made it over to the bed and laid down, still dressed in his oversized clothes.

He was apparently famous because some maniac killed his parents and tried to kill him too, but failed. A very bad man according to Hagrid, as if Harry didn't already know that. What he didn't know was why that made him famous. Whilst he tried to come up with possible theories, the softness of an actual bed lulled him to sleep, even as his scar began to hurt badly. Harry fell asleep, already knowing what nightmare he would be having that night.