Are You My Mother?
By the time Rubeus Hagrid had reached Privet Drive, he'd convinced himself fully to take up the role of adopting little Harry Potter.
See, he figured that his hut was small but little Harry would be just fine without a proper bedroom for a few years and by that time, he'd have built an extension to his home. Hagrid was great with his hands, really, and it would be no problem at all for him to fashion a little cradle, and soon after a sizable bed to last him, with a small bed-table, and perhaps a desk for when he started school. As for clothes, Hagrid was quite skilled in knitting, and he supposed that what little pay he had could suffice for undergarments and the like (he'd figure it all out on the way).
It also helped that Hagrid was a decent cook (if he should say so for himself!) and there was always more than enough at the Great Hall, so between both, little Harry would certainly never starve. And really, who wouldn't want to grow up in Hogwarts! Safest place in the wizarding world, and humming with the magic embedded in all magical creatures. There couldn't be a happier place for the boy!
Hagrid even thought about getting the lad a puppy of his own – that was always something special, a boy and his dog. A real big protector sort so there could be two eyes watching little Harry – as one never knew what was on the edge of the Forbidden Forest (but certainly nothing he couldn't handle!) Hagrid could see it well in his mind, keeping with his gamekeeping duties with Harry's little legs tight around his neck, small fists in his hair, gurgling happily, just as little Harry let out a sweet sound from his safe encasing and Hagrid thought surely it was a sign.
But Headmaster Dumbledore's stern eyes answered the question dancing on the tip of his tongue and he heaved a great sigh, but submitted, knowing Albus Dumbledore knew what was best. Yes, Albus Dumbledore always had his reasons.