Fagrid (A Hagrid x Reader fic)

Chapter 6: Petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid

Your dreams swirl in desolation - constantly shifting in and out of each other, morphing into psychedelic messes, and you are unable to discern a single thought. Through the mess, you start to hear a whisper. You attempt to lean closer, a difficult action in a non-tangible space. Even so, the whisper grows louder, until you are just able to make out the raspy tone.

"It is time. Wake my children."

A gasp escapes you as your dreams fade, and a recognizable scene fills their place. Hagrid's hut from chapter 5.

"Y/N!" Hagrid cries, scooping you into his arms.

"H-Hagrid?! What happened, where were we?" You slide your arms around the familiar nook of his neck, it fills you with the comfort you long missed.

"Tha author fo'got 'bout us." He huffed.

"The author? You mean J.K.Rowling? Is she the one who trapped us in that weird place?"

"Tha' tory wench? No. I mea' the fanfic author. I'v seen it 'appen 'nce b'fore. The aut'or fo'gets and we stop 'xisting til' 'ey come back. I'd say we' been gon' 'bout 'hree years."

"THREE YEARS?" The events from the previous chapter start rushing back to you, "Hagrid, we have to stop Harry! He's building his arm as we speak!" You start to rush towards the door, but Hagrid grabs you by the wrist.

"...Y/N. Ther' somethi' I nee' to tell ya. I 'ad a lotta time to reflec' in the nothin'. I 'ad som' realiza'ions. I don' know 'ow to tell ya this..." You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Is Hagrid breaking up with you? "I'm transgenda'! I wanna be call 'ergrid from now on."

"Hergrid..." your fingers interlock with hers, "Thank you for telling me. I respect your newfound identity and pronouns as any reasonable person would and will call you by your chosen name without making a shitty meltdown essay on twitter about it." You stare directly into the metaphysical camera.

You look back at your new bearded lady with glee, "Let's go kick some Potter ass, baby!" You and Hergrid leave the hut hand-in-hand.

***

The two of you march down the corridors of Hogwarts, though they are strangely devoid of students. Now that you think about it, you haven't seen a single person since your run in with Harry. Even the ghosts and painting subjects have seemed to vanish. A chill runs down your spine, forcing you to stop in your tracks. What if Harry had gotten to them first? Have you already lost? You shake your head; no, you still have to try.

You attempt to move forward, but your legs, suddenly made of concrete, refuse to budge. Hergrid had stopped too, concern painted across her face. A giantess hand lands on your shoulder, gripping tightly.

"Ar' ya alrigh'?" Not even her sexy Markiplier-esque voice can soothe your nerves. You attempt to respond, but your voice dies in your throat.

"What are you two doing here?" A new voice calls. You swing your head towards the new speaker, to see a student standing behind you with her arms crossed. It's Offensive Racial Stereotype Cho Chang!

"Miss Chang," You squeak out, "Where is everyone?"

"At the party..." Cho says impatiently.

"Oh, right. The party. Which one was it again?"

"Did you already forget, Professor? It's all anyone has been talking about for months! Jackson Wang is throwing a party in the grand hall. Everyone is there right now."

"Everyone?" The most powerful witches and wizards all in one room, most with a grudge against Harry. This is perfect, you think.

"Yeah, everyone but you. And the dirty groundskeeper over there, but I don't think she was invited. Come on, I'll show you the way, it's my turn to be a convenient plot device anyway." Cho motions for you two to follow her, as she leads you in the direction of the great hall.