Hope
We're back to happy feels again, yay! I've always liked Hagrid (we totally share a birthday – true story) so I was excited to get the chance to write for him. Additionally, there's almost nothing known about his dad (including his first name), so I got to play with both 'creating' a character and working with a very well developed one. The time frame here is before Rubeus receives his Hogwarts letter, so keep that in mind. Onward, I say!
Lawrence peacefully sat at his enormous kitchen table, occasionally taking small sips from the mug of tea resting before him. The barely breaking sunshine of what appeared to be an ideal summer day attempted to fill the room with light, reflecting brightly off the various pots and pans hanging about the walls and ceiling. He knew it wouldn't be long before he'd need to get to the garden; he left it untended a day longer than normal in his recent bout of unnatural tiredness, but the task could no longer be put off in the plants were expected to be utilized. He particularly wanted to be up and about before Rubeus came down – if he noticed how strangely off his father felt, he would certainly insist that the wizard rest while he did the more wearisome work. He was a sweet boy, Rubeus was, but Lawrence needed the distraction. Sitting about would leave far too much time for excessive contemplation.
As though channeling his thoughts, the sounds of creaking bed frames and hard footsteps echoed through the ceiling, convincing Lawrence to rise to his feet. He set about preparing a small breakfast for himself, knowing that Rubeus would be best if left to make his own meal. Lawrence never seemed able to prepare enough for his pre-adolescent child; he ate more in one sitting than Lawrence did in an entire day. He was more than able to care for himself, however, so the wizard didn't worry. Besides, he'd ask for the help if he required it.
By the time Lawrence finished, Rubeus entered the kitchen, ducking automatically to avoid hitting the door frame. They'd raised it three times in the last year, but just as soon as it was finished, the boy launched up another foot. Lawrence took it all in stride; he was a half-giant and inevitably would continue to increase in size the older he became. No point worrying over it until there was something to actually be done. Smiling up at his blurry eyed son, he drained the last of his tea and made for the door.
"Come join me once you've finished," he called, knowing Rubeus would understand. The eleven year old grunted sleepily in reply, rummaging through the cupboards in search of sustenance. Chuckling to himself, Lawrence snatched his wide brimmed hat from the awaiting hook and wandered down the hill to his extensive garden. He paused in the shed to collect the appropriate supplies before dropping the wards and entering the enclosure. He decided that his most precious plants, the ones he sold to eager potions masters as invaluable for their various uses, ought to be cared for first. They could not afford to be spoiled; one wrong move – excessive watering, too much sun, any number of easily avoided mistreatments – and their magical properties would falter. Besides, Rubeus was capable of caring for the rest.
As he carefully kneeled at the first stalk's side, his mind wandered back to his thoughts over his tea. It was nearly into August, and he knew that if it didn't come soon, it might not come at all. There shouldn't have been any reason to worry – the Hagrid line held strong magic, and even the boy's mother was gifted, though certainly not in the same way as human wizards – but Lawrence could not stop himself He'd told Rubeus of Hogwarts a fair number of times, never revealing very many specifics, and he was almost certain his son didn't have a clue (or a care, to be perfectly, painfully honest) whether or not he would attend. It seemed that he expected to be simply told if and when he would go to Great Britain's most famed magical institution, and would go on with his life as usual regardless. It was a wise mentality, Lawrence conceded, but he felt a rush of disheartened sadness at the very fact that there was doubt. Rubeus had talent – he'd seen it himself on numerous occasions – and deserved to become a student just as much as anyone else. It seemed incredibly unfair that there was even a hint at doubt due to his heritage.
Rubeus took his time coming down that morning. Lawrence had already made his way through the exotic species before his echoing footfalls slightly shook the moist ground below his boots. He raised his head, smudging a line of dirt across his cheek as he wiped the sweat away, and froze, taking his son in. His enormous hands held a thick parchment envelope, an incredulous expression on his young face. Lawrence tossed his spade aside and instantly strode forward.
"Is that…?" he asked, unable to form the words in the fear that he was wrong. Rubeus wordlessly passed the envelope over, allowing Lawrence to savagely tear it open to peer at its contents. He needed only to read the letter's first line to feel the sting of tears come to his eyes.
"Da?" Rubeus asked tentatively, bushy eyebrows raised high on his forehead in confusion and alarm. Choking out a strangled laugh, he clasped his small hand on the boy's gigantic arm in reassurance.
"The garden will wait – we've got to be getting to Diagon Alley. Loads of supplies to buy and not nearly enough time; the Hogwarts Express expects you on September 1st."
He slowly took in the tiny wizard's words, sudden realization making his face turn ecstatic. Letting out an enthusiastic whoop, he grabbed his father and nearly carried him back to the house. Lawrence let him, savoring the release of his constrained emotions at the thought of his son, his darling boy, going to Hogwarts.
Waving his son farewell, watching the scarlet steam engine carry him away into the wilds of Scotland, was the single most wonderfully bittersweet sight Lawrence had ever witnessed. He was unspeakably proud; Rubeus was his entire life, the reason he woke each morning and the cause of his smile as he closed his eyes each night, and he had been given the opportunity to develop his skills. He would make friends, learn spells, get into trouble, break rules, grow up. It made every difficult day worth the effort, knowing his son would be trained to be a wizard. He remained long after the train drifted from sight, the lingering smile telling more of his thoughts than any spoken words ever could.