Title: Second Chances
Summary: Petunia’s dead and Minerva’s not taking any chances this time. She’s placing Harry with someone who won’t risk loosing a child a second time.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate SG-1 or Harry Potter.
Warnings: Implied child neglect and verbal abuse with some definite hints at rough treatment bordering on physical abuse. Basically, everything implied in the books, just more of it. (You know, trust issues aside, I still can’t figure out how Harry came out as normal as he did.)
Pairings: Petunia/Vernon mentioned.
Timeline: Sometime between the movie and the first episode of the Stargate series. The HP timeline is screwed all to hell.
Author’s Notes: Oddly enough, this was inspired by a story with a Jack/Harry pairing and my inability to see the relationship working because Jack would see Harry as a kid. The vague car crash idea from Curious Little Seer got moved into this.
Second Chances
Jack looked from the woman taking up half his loveseat, to the kid curled up next to her, and back at the woman. Then he looked at the kid again.
In the past year, he had lost Charlie, gone on and returned from an assignment that would make half the people at NASA pass out from excitement if he could ever tell them, and been handed divorce papers from his wife. He was not ready to take on raising a kid. Hell, he didn’t trust himself with a kid; he had lost his own. What made this McGonagall woman think he could be trusted with any kid, let alone a five year old who was traumatized by watching his aunt and cousin bleed out on the side of the road while he was trapped in the backseat of a car?
“Colonel O’Neill, you—”
“It’s Jack these days; I’m retired.”
“Jack,” Mrs. McGonagall corrected. She smiled stiffly at him, and Jack could tell it was an expression she didn’t use all that often. The way the kid was staring at the woman’s face in complete and utter disbelief reinforced that image. “You are the only person left with any blood ties to Harry’s mother who is also in the position to raise a child like Harry. You can keep him safe.”
And that set off almost every parent alarm Jack had. It wasn’t the woman’s voice or the way she had stressed safe; it was the way Harry was backing away from the woman and eyeing the front door like he was trying to figure out if he could make it out of the house before anyone caught him. Making a spilt second decision, Jack patted the couch cushion next to him, the one farthest from McGonagall. The couch was farther from the door, but Jack was betting the kid just wanted away from the scary woman.
He was right. Harry instantly jumped off the loveseat and darted towards the couch, wasting absolutely no time looking back as he climbed up. Jack moved slightly to provide a better shield when the kid tried to hide behind him. Harry smiled his thanks, a tiny nervous little smile, and Jack smiled back at him. It wasn’t until he reached out absently to ruffle the kid’s hair that he realized he was well and truly screwed.
“Now I have to insist you become his guardian,” Mrs. McGonagall said sadly. She held a hand up when Jack spun around to face her, already opening his mouth to protest. “You’re the first adult he’s shown any sign of trusting since the accident. I have no idea what Petunia Dursley said to him before she died, nor do I know what her husband said to him at the hospital, but whatever they said, their words have impacted him greatly. He hasn’t spoken; he hasn’t asked any questions or indicated he cares about of the choices we’ve had to make on his behalf; and he hasn’t done anything to show he was even the slightest bit curious about where he is going to be placed.”
She leaned forward, her face set in a pleading expression. “Colonel O’Neill, you must understand, until just now Harry’s been completely passive about everything.”
Jack looked down at Harry, and Harry stared up at him. One of the papers McGonagall had handed him at the beginning of this meeting said the boy was turning six this summer, but with the baggy clothes he was wearing and his small frame, Harry looked like a small four year old. Harry’s run to the couch moved his shirt, and Jack could see a set of stitches on Harry’s right shoulder and a fading bruise on his left arm that was definitely from someone grabbing him too tightly. The stitches most likely came from the wreck, but the handprint shaped bruise was too old. A very nasty suspicion began forming in Jack’s mind about why Harry was no longer living with this Dursley guy.
“Give me a pen.” Jack took the ballpoint pen from McGonagall and started signing and initialing in all the places McGonagall indicated. His hand wavered over the last empty line for a moment, then he sat back against the couch, pulling the papers onto his lap.
Something stunk. And it wasn’t the two month old pizza he had found at the back of the fridge earlier.
Jack knew adoptions and child placements took more than this. Social workers did not just show up at your house with a stack of papers, ask you to sign them, and hand you the kid. It pissed Jack off he hadn’t noticed sooner.
“Why does Harry need protection?” Jack asked. McGonagall stiffened slightly, prompting him to add, “You said I could keep him safe, and you’re worried about me being the only connection he has left to his mother’s family who can protect him. You aren’t telling me everything. If Harry and I are going to be living together for the next few years, we deserve to know exactly what we’re in for.”
McGonagall pursed her lips to suppress a smile and shook her head. “Albus warned me it wouldn’t be this easy,” she muttered softly. “I understand your work has given you a chance to appreciate and experience things most muggles don’t,” she continued in a normal voice, “so please be patient while I explain what makes Harry so special.”
Jack smiled stiffly at the woman and wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders when the boy snuggled closer and shot McGonagall a frightened look. “As long as you explain what muggle means, I can manage that.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jack leaned against the door to his small guest bedroom and watched Harry sleep. McGonagall had left about an hour ago, and Jack’s head was still reeling from everything the woman had said. Magic was real, his little cousin was responsible for taking out the biggest magical badass in a hundred years, and did he mention magic was real? That was the biggest shocker, for both him and Harry. It had taken McGonagall transforming into cat in front of them and back again before they had been willing to believe her, and it was still a little hard for Jack to wrap his mind around. Even though he still didn’t quite believe, he had asked McGonagall to cast a charm or seven on his gun case and gun, before making sure Harry was still in the living room and hiding the thing again. With all the danger Harry was in from these Deathy guys, Jack didn’t feel safe getting rid of it, but he didn’t like having it in the house with a kid either. Charming everything so only Jack could unlock the case and pick up the gun had been McGonagall’s idea of a compromise.
Harry looked so small curled up in the center of the bed in the bare room. There hadn’t been much in there to begin with--a bed and an old beat up dresser--and McGonagall hadn’t brought much with her besides Harry. It had been a kick to the stomach when he had helped the kid unpack his tiny bag and found out Harry didn’t have any toys or even an old, raggedy stuffed animal with him. Jack understood a kid having second hand clothes if the family had fallen on hard times or couldn’t afford new ones, but he had never seen a kid who didn’t have a favorite toy before. Hell, Harry’s hug had practically cut off the circulation to his legs when the boy had seen the bed. Jack got the feeling there was a lot Harry had never had before. If Jack ever met this Albus person who had left Harry with his aunt, Albus was going to be in a world of hurt, old man or not.
Leaving the door open and the hall light on, Jack went back downstairs. He needed a pad of paper and a beer. He needed to make a list of stuff to buy, with a stuffed animal and paint for Harry’s room at the top. Maybe a dog eventually, every kid had to have a dog. He’d have to see how Harry reacted to one first. Charlie had hated cats with a passion at that age…
“It’s official,” Jack muttered as he popped the cap off his beer, “I have finally completely and utterly lost my mind.”
Jack looked from the woman taking up half his loveseat, to the kid curled up next to her, and back at the woman. Then he looked at the kid again.
In the past year, he had lost Charlie, gone on and returned from an assignment that would make half the people at NASA pass out from excitement if he could ever tell them, and been handed divorce papers from his wife. He was not ready to take on raising a kid. Hell, he didn’t trust himself with a kid; he had lost his own. What made this McGonagall woman think he could be trusted with any kid, let alone a five year old who was traumatized by watching his aunt and cousin bleed out on the side of the road while he was trapped in the backseat of a car?
“Colonel O’Neill, you—”
“It’s Jack these days; I’m retired.”
“Jack,” Mrs. McGonagall corrected. She smiled stiffly at him, and Jack could tell it was an expression she didn’t use all that often. The way the kid was staring at the woman’s face in complete and utter disbelief reinforced that image. “You are the only person left with any blood ties to Harry’s mother who is also in the position to raise a child like Harry. You can keep him safe.”
And that set off almost every parent alarm Jack had. It wasn’t the woman’s voice or the way she had stressed safe; it was the way Harry was backing away from the woman and eyeing the front door like he was trying to figure out if he could make it out of the house before anyone caught him. Making a spilt second decision, Jack patted the couch cushion next to him, the one farthest from McGonagall. The couch was farther from the door, but Jack was betting the kid just wanted away from the scary woman.
He was right. Harry instantly jumped off the loveseat and darted towards the couch, wasting absolutely no time looking back as he climbed up. Jack moved slightly to provide a better shield when the kid tried to hide behind him. Harry smiled his thanks, a tiny nervous little smile, and Jack smiled back at him. It wasn’t until he reached out absently to ruffle the kid’s hair that he realized he was well and truly screwed.
“Now I have to insist you become his guardian,” Mrs. McGonagall said sadly. She held a hand up when Jack spun around to face her, already opening his mouth to protest. “You’re the first adult he’s shown any sign of trusting since the accident. I have no idea what Petunia Dursley said to him before she died, nor do I know what her husband said to him at the hospital, but whatever they said, their words have impacted him greatly. He hasn’t spoken; he hasn’t asked any questions or indicated he cares about of the choices we’ve had to make on his behalf; and he hasn’t done anything to show he was even the slightest bit curious about where he is going to be placed.”
She leaned forward, her face set in a pleading expression. “Colonel O’Neill, you must understand, until just now Harry’s been completely passive about everything.”
Jack looked down at Harry, and Harry stared up at him. One of the papers McGonagall had handed him at the beginning of this meeting said the boy was turning six this summer, but with the baggy clothes he was wearing and his small frame, Harry looked like a small four year old. Harry’s run to the couch moved his shirt, and Jack could see a set of stitches on Harry’s right shoulder and a fading bruise on his left arm that was definitely from someone grabbing him too tightly. The stitches most likely came from the wreck, but the handprint shaped bruise was too old. A very nasty suspicion began forming in Jack’s mind about why Harry was no longer living with this Dursley guy.
“Give me a pen.” Jack took the ballpoint pen from McGonagall and started signing and initialing in all the places McGonagall indicated. His hand wavered over the last empty line for a moment, then he sat back against the couch, pulling the papers onto his lap.
Something stunk. And it wasn’t the two month old pizza he had found at the back of the fridge earlier.
Jack knew adoptions and child placements took more than this. Social workers did not just show up at your house with a stack of papers, ask you to sign them, and hand you the kid. It pissed Jack off he hadn’t noticed sooner.
“Why does Harry need protection?” Jack asked. McGonagall stiffened slightly, prompting him to add, “You said I could keep him safe, and you’re worried about me being the only connection he has left to his mother’s family who can protect him. You aren’t telling me everything. If Harry and I are going to be living together for the next few years, we deserve to know exactly what we’re in for.”
McGonagall pursed her lips to suppress a smile and shook her head. “Albus warned me it wouldn’t be this easy,” she muttered softly. “I understand your work has given you a chance to appreciate and experience things most muggles don’t,” she continued in a normal voice, “so please be patient while I explain what makes Harry so special.”
Jack smiled stiffly at the woman and wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders when the boy snuggled closer and shot McGonagall a frightened look. “As long as you explain what muggle means, I can manage that.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jack leaned against the door to his small guest bedroom and watched Harry sleep. McGonagall had left about an hour ago, and Jack’s head was still reeling from everything the woman had said. Magic was real, his little cousin was responsible for taking out the biggest magical badass in a hundred years, and did he mention magic was real? That was the biggest shocker, for both him and Harry. It had taken McGonagall transforming into cat in front of them and back again before they had been willing to believe her, and it was still a little hard for Jack to wrap his mind around. Even though he still didn’t quite believe, he had asked McGonagall to cast a charm or seven on his gun case and gun, before making sure Harry was still in the living room and hiding the thing again. With all the danger Harry was in from these Deathy guys, Jack didn’t feel safe getting rid of it, but he didn’t like having it in the house with a kid either. Charming everything so only Jack could unlock the case and pick up the gun had been McGonagall’s idea of a compromise.
Harry looked so small curled up in the center of the bed in the bare room. There hadn’t been much in there to begin with--a bed and an old beat up dresser--and McGonagall hadn’t brought much with her besides Harry. It had been a kick to the stomach when he had helped the kid unpack his tiny bag and found out Harry didn’t have any toys or even an old, raggedy stuffed animal with him. Jack understood a kid having second hand clothes if the family had fallen on hard times or couldn’t afford new ones, but he had never seen a kid who didn’t have a favorite toy before. Hell, Harry’s hug had practically cut off the circulation to his legs when the boy had seen the bed. Jack got the feeling there was a lot Harry had never had before. If Jack ever met this Albus person who had left Harry with his aunt, Albus was going to be in a world of hurt, old man or not.
Leaving the door open and the hall light on, Jack went back downstairs. He needed a pad of paper and a beer. He needed to make a list of stuff to buy, with a stuffed animal and paint for Harry’s room at the top. Maybe a dog eventually, every kid had to have a dog. He’d have to see how Harry reacted to one first. Charlie had hated cats with a passion at that age…
“It’s official,” Jack muttered as he popped the cap off his beer, “I have finally completely and utterly lost my mind.”
Tags: au, gen, hp, sg1