OF BABIES, MOTORCYCLES, AND HALF-GIANTS
His feet hit the ground harder than he expected, and he wobbled a bit on his great feet for a moment before steadying himself and pulling his pink umbrella out of his jacket.
Hagrid didn't like asphalt. He preferred the feeling of crunching leaves and moist earth beneath his boots, with only the moon for light, instead of the glaring streetlamps that illuminated the path every few feet.
He wondered why he wasn't in tears over the news. He knew he was an emotional man, and he embraced it. It was the reason he could tame any creature, why he was so at home in nature. But tonight, the tears didn't come. He just felt numb. Even though the news had come straight from Dumbledore, he couldn't believe it. Not them. Not them.
Muggles pushed open their curtains as he passed. He distantly wondered if the "pop" from his Apparition had been too loud. He was out of practice.
All of the cottages were decorated with paper ghosts and ugly witches. The doors and hedges were adorned with creatures that looked like no magical beast Hagrid had ever seen. Any other night, he would have been filled with merriment over the Muggles' idea of magic. He was very fond of Muggles. But tonight he barely gave them a second thought.
He could see a darkness at the end of the lane. Darkness that had not been there only a few days before. He lengthened his stride as dread filled his heart.
He stood at the neatly clipped hedge. James had taken pride in this cottage, cared for it with love. He had wanted a nice place for his family to live. The gate was painted a gleaming white; Hagrid could see it well in the darkness. The cottage looked the same as ever; cozy, larger than the others on the street. He remembered how much happiness those dark wooden walls once contained.
He finally allowed his black eyes to rest on the right half of the house. It was completely demolished. Rubble lay scattered on the ground around it and he could still see dust rising steadily from the remains. Before he realized it, he was at the cottage door, which was hanging by its hinges. He had to be sure.
Dust filled the air in the little foyer. A picture of the Potters hung on the wall to the left; it showed James smiling proudly down at the son in his arms, his beautiful wife by his side. He beamed up at Hagrid occasionally, but James couldn't tear his eyes away from his family for very long. Lily's head rested on James' shoulder and her hand was clasped tightly in his. She reached out, stroked her sleeping son's dark hair, and sighed with contentment, the picture of bliss. Harry slept peacefully, his closed eyelids concealing those striking green eyes. They had been a happy family. Silent teardrops fell down Hagrid's face.
He tore himself away from the photograph. Turning to mount the stairs on his right, something caught his eye. It was dark and lay in a heap in the doorway to the sitting room at the end of the hall. He approached it carefully, gripping the pink umbrella in his hand tightly.
James.
It was a body. James' body, crumpled like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Hagrid collapsed to his knees with a colossal thud and gathered the limp body in his arms, wailing loudly, all of his suppressed emotion surging out. He held it and rocked back and forth, mad with grief.
It was true. It was all true. The Potters were dead. Dumbledore had been right. Of course he had. Hagrid knew he was a simple man, that his intellect was nothing in comparison to Dumbledore's. How could he have ever doubted his words? Shudders racked his body as he continued to weep. The man in his arms that had once been so full of life was really dead.
Where was Lily? The thought scorched his grieving mind. Hagrid hauled himself to his feet, gently laying James' body on the floor. Their bodies should be together. He climbed the stairs madly, searching the darkness through his tears.
He found her in the nursery, the moonlight reflecting off her dark-red hair. The door was hanging by its hinges as well. The room was obliterated; he could see the moon and the houses down the lane. Fallen boards concealed part of her rigid body. He threw them away and lifted her in his arms. Hagrid walked down the stairs, away from the ruined room, and laid her down next to her husband. They had the same expression imprinted on their faces: panic. It was distressing to see. They should have been peaceful. They deserved to be.
It dawned on him that they must have been protecting Harry. They would never have feared for their own lives. And with the thought of Harry, he remembered what else Dumbledore had said.
"Hagrid, they are dead. But I have reason to believe their son is not. You must go to Godric's Hollow and retrieve him. There is not much time."
And Dumbledore had left. Other things needed to be taken care of. He would be here eventually to retrieve the Potters' bodies. But Dumbledore had trusted him with this task, and he would not let him down.
In the nursery, he hauled the collapsed ceiling off the crib, which had completely concealed it from view. There lay Harry, completely still. He looked just like the picture on the wall, but for his tearstained face. He looked as if he had cried himself to sleep. Hagrid scooped him up and began to sob once more. Harry was an orphan now, just like him. A messy lock of hair fell away from his forehead with the motion. On Harry's forehead there was an angry red slash, in the shape of a lightning bolt.
The baby woke up. He looked up at the person holding him and, recognizing the face, slowly inspected the room around him. He began to whimper. The two orphans cried together; the giant man and the tiny infant. Everything had changed now, for the both of them.
Hagrid walked out onto the sidewalk, quietly closing the gate so as not to wake Harry, who had fallen asleep once more. Hagrid turned to face the lane. He needed to leave, before both the magical and Muggle authorities arrived.
A low rumbling sound broke the silence. Spinning around, he saw a light slowly descending from the sky. It was a motorcycle. It landed smoothly beside him, the engine purring. The rider wore no helmet. It was Sirius Black, James Potters' best friend and godfather of the boy in Hagrid's arms. He looked frantic, almost falling off the bike, with no trace of his normal sophistication.
Sirius searched Hagrid's face. "They really are dead, aren't they?" he said. His voice sounded hoarse. Hagrid only nodded.
Sirius Black, proud and refined, crumpled to the sidewalk, wailing with sorrow. Harry woke with a moan.
Sirius jumped up at the sound, his grief momentarily forgotten. "Harry?" he whispered incredulously. He snatched the baby from Hagrid's arms and held him with rapture. "How is this possible?" he asked, rubbing Harry's back to comfort him. Tears still streamed down his face.
"I don' know." Hagrid couldn't wrap his mind around it and he didn't try. Dumbledore would take care of it. "All righ', Sirius?" he asked gently
"I will be." There was something behind the words. Hagrid disregarded it. "Can I take Harry with me? I'll take care of him. I am his godfather." His eyes were pleading.
"I can', I'm sorry, Sirius. Dumbledore's orders."
"But," he began to protest, looking angry. However, his face quickly cleared, as if thinking better of it. "Fine, I understand. How are you getting him to Hogwarts?"
"Well, I was jus' goin' to…yer know, Apparate." Hagrid lifted his umbrella.
Sirius looked doubtful. "Take my bike. I won't be needing it now." Hagrid was too grateful to notice the menace in his last words.
"Really? Ah, yer don' know how much easier tha' makes my job." Sirius conjured blankets and tucked them into the sidecar of the bike, then arranged Harry into it lovingly. He stared into his godson's eyes for a moment.
"Take care of him, Hagrid." Sirius was suddenly solemn, his composure returned.
"I will. Don' worry." He embraced Sirius in his enormous arms for a moment before climbing onto the bike and kicking it to life. The engine growled as the bike soared into the sky. Hagrid looked back, but Sirius had already disappeared.
Harry lived in Hagrid's little hut for a single day. He played with Fang and napped in the sunlight streaming in over Hagrid's chair, unaware of the uproar he had caused outside of the hut's walls, unaware that it was the last peace he was to have for a long time.
Hagrid cried as he rode away from Privet Drive that night. He promised to himself that he would be there for little Harry Potter when the time came.
Ten years later, Hagrid stood in the pouring rain outside of a shack on a rock. He couldn't wait to fulfill his promise.
Of Babies, Motorcycles, and Half-Giants by mistyquest
Story Notes:
This is a Hagrid-centric!
Chapter Endnotes: Hope you enjoyed it! Review!