Unable to pay tribute
The crumpled body of the man who had given him so much lay unceremoniously at the foot of the astronomy tower. Harry bent over him, his loud, racking sobs audible to all in the courtyard. The whole square was packed tightly with bodies, all the staff and students of Hogwarts were present, well all the ones that mattered, yet despite the few hundred people all was quiet apart from that boy's tears. Shock. Dumbledore was not supposed to have a finite end. He had been at Hogwarts for as long as anyone there could remember. Current student's grandparents had told them tales of the slightly quaint headmaster. He was so very old, no one really knew how much, and everyone assumed that he would just continue to get older, without ever seeming to age. It was commonly accepted that like time itself, he would never cease to be, only endure. Albus Dumbledore was by definition Hogwarts' headmaster and how could Hogwarts exist now that he was dead?
Hagrid could not stand the eerie quiet, but it was not just that, the stillness of everyone seemed to suffocate him. He wanted to go over and lift the man into his arms but he felt it was not his place. The stillness made him feel as if everyone was restlessly waiting with baited breath, half expecting their beloved headmaster to jump up laughing at his own elaborate ruse, but he knew that would never happen. And then from besides him movement. Madame Pomfrey raised her arm above her head, wand extended: the tip glowed with a small light. The students surrounded them followed suit and like a breeze rippling through grass the whole courtyard held their wands aloft, lighting a mark of respect for their beloved headmaster.
But Hagrid was unable to pay tribute.
His arm hung useless at his side. It was not that Hagrid did not want to, when he thought of what that amazing man had done for him, paying tribute was the least he could do. That amazing man who had never treated Hagrid differently for being half giant. That amazing man who had seen Hagrid's potential and encouraged him. That amazing man who had tried to shield Hagrid from the law when he had broken it and had softened the blow tenfold. That amazing man who had broken the law himself so that Hagrid had at least a piece of his wand forever with him. That amazing man who had given Hagrid a job and a home. That amazing man who had trusted Hagrid when no one else did. That amazing man who had placed so much confidence and responsibility in Hagrid's hands and had done so with utter faith. That amazing man who had trusted Hagrid with his life and now there was no life for Hagrid to be trusted with. That amazing man was dead.
Hagrid imagined how the tribute must look from on high: imagined what Fawkes was seeing as he flew above signing his lament. Dozens and dozens of pricks of light, like a mirror imagine of the night sky above. Dozens and dozens but one too few. Hagrid did not have a wand, only an umbrella, which he was eternally grateful to Dumbledore for, but he would not raise his umbrella and risk exposing Dumbledore, not even in death. And besides an umbrella was not a wand.
And so his arms stayed down at his sides, one clenched into a fist, the other wrapped tightly around his umbrella. A hollow gnawing feeling settled over the half giant, who finally allowed himself to cry as Fawkes's last high, mournful note rang out over the night sky. And for once the gentle giant cried silently instead of his usual racking sobs. A single fat tear rolled down his cheek and was swallowed into his beard. It was shortly followed by dozens and dozens more, but one too few, for Hagrid would never shed enough tears for the man who had done so much for him.
This was how he stood during the silent vigil. Tears running down his face, hand clutching an umbrella and unable to pay tribute to a man so loved.