A/N: This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 2, Round 10
House: Gryffindor
Position: Year 3
Category: Short
Prompt: 5. [Emotion] Relief
Word count: 1991 words (according to Google docs)
Betas: A huge thank you to Sarah (marauding-mischief78), Jenny (Claude Amelia Song), and CK (Theoretical-Optimist) for beta'ing :D
Other notes: As it is my very last entry, I'd like to take now to thank absolutely everyone I've met in this competition. Thank you to the judges for all the hard work you've put into reading our stories each week, to the moderators for always being there for everyone and organising everything, and to my lovely teammates for their support and friendship. As cheesy as this is, this is dedicated to all of you :) Go Gryffindor!
To fit in with the theme (and well, to be honest, because my mind is blank and no plots are coming), I figured I'd go with a bittersweet story. I know Hagrid's dialogue might be a bit try-hard, but I do thank swissmiss and her article on HP InkPot for helping me get as close as possible. I tried to base it on canon as much as possible, using the wiki information and books to help me. For easy reference: Hagrid could lift his father when he was six and put him on the dressing table (he's about eight in the first scene), he was a Gryffindor, his father died when he was in his second year, and he was expelled in his third. He got his accent from where he grew up, so presumably, his father was the same (especially since his mother left him when he was three so wasn't around as much to influence the accent). This story takes place during Hagrid's time at Hogwarts for the most of it.
I also don't know if Septimus Weasley (Ron et co's grandfather) was in the same year, but he was the first Gryffindor to come to mind. I stand by the idea of relief being the best emotion because honestly, it's that one step above happiness :D
I hope you like this story, and thank you for reading! Xx
Relief
Relief was the best emotion in the world. It was a feeling better than happiness, better than excitement. It meant that the bad times were over and everything would be okay, and for as long as Rubeus could remember, it was.
"Where is it? It can' have jus' disappeared!"
Rubeus stood on his toes and peered over the top of the fridge. Even though he couldn't see anything, he still felt around the dusty surface, hoping that somehow his teddy bear, Norbert, would be there.
"Well, where was the last place yeh had 'im?" his father asked.
He pouted. "If I knew tha', I'd know where he was."
"I can bet yeh two Sickles that yeh bear is where yeh last played with 'im."
Rubeus clenched his fists by his side, not liking the way his father was smiling. It wasn't funny! What if he never found him again? What if he had accidentally thrown him out?
"Did yeh check yer room?"
"Yes."
His father shook his head, his black eyes twinkling. "So if I go up there righ' now, I won' find 'im?"
Rubeus chewed his lip. Maybe… maybe he hadn't looked hard enough? As his father started heading towards his bedroom, he hurried to block the doorway.
"No! I've already searched me room."
"Are yeh sure?"
Why wasn't his father taking this seriously? He should be searching the house, not places he'd already been!
When the man tried to edge out of the room, Rubeus stomped his foot and lifted his father onto the kitchen table so he couldn't move. Then, running out of the room, he headed straight for his bedroom himself.
Standing by his bed, he looked around the room, his heart pounding. There were only books, and one rather large sock, on his bookshelf, and clothes cluttered his wardrobe. He bent down to peer underneath his bed, but he could only see the other toys he had shoved underneath it earlier that morning.
The corners of his eyes began to sting; part of him had hoped that maybe his father was right and Norbert was in his room.
Sighing, he sat down on the edge of one of the beds. The springs squeaked under his weight, yet as he moved around, he heard another squeaking.
Jumping up, he felt around the sheets for the source. His hand enclosed around something furry, and with his heart still pounding, he pulled it out.
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as he saw that it was Norbert. Sniffling, he pulled the bear close to his chest, squeezing it tightly.
"Did yeh find 'im?" his father called.
The feeling of relief dissipated, and soon Rubeus' heart was pounding again. He had told his father that Norbert wouldn't be in his room, and yet he was. Would he be angry that he hadn't looked properly? Should he hide Norbert and pretend he hadn't found him after all?
"Rubeus?"
Still clutching Norbert, Rubeus sighed and trudged back into the kitchen.
"Ah, so the mysterious Norbert has returned from his adventure," his father said.
Rubeus nodded, bracing himself for the tongue lashing that was about to come. Not only had he not listened to his father, but he had placed the man on the table, where he was now still sitting.
To his astonishment, however, his father's face broke into a grin, and soon he was laughing. "Yeh put me… on the table… silly beggar..."
Rubeus relaxed and a smile lit up his own face; he had his bear, and his father wasn't mad. Everything was okay.
Rubeus held tightly onto his father's hand, his eyes glued to the steaming scarlet engine a few metres away. The carriages looked tiny, and the doors even tinier. His father had assured him that Hogwarts was large enough for him, but what if he couldn't even fit on the train to get there?
"Have yeh got everythin'?"
He looked down at his father. When he saw that the man's smile was a little strained, he quickly let go of his hand and allowed him to shake the blood back into it.
"Sorry."
"Not ter worry," his father said, grinning up at him. "This is an excitin' day fer yeh and all."
Rubeus tried to return the smile, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. He glanced at all the people around him, his cheeks burning as they all averted their eyes.
"Are ye sure yeh don' want me ter stay home?" Rubeus asked, turning back to his father.
His father clapped him on the shoulder—or rather, his elbow—and shook his head. Tears were swimming in his eyes as he nodded towards the Hogwarts Express. "Go on, off yeh go. Make yeh father proud."
Rubeus wavered on the spot, his heart pounding, but nodded. Bending down, he gave his father a hug, letting go only when he heard the man give a little squeak. Then, clutching onto his trunk, he straightened his back and headed towards the train.
He was too focused on the train's narrow doors, however, that he didn't notice the red-head heading his way until it was too late. A small bump against his chest sent the boy reeling backwards into a trolley.
"Sorry!" Rubeus said, rushing over to the boy.
The boy waved his hand, brushing off his robes. "My fault; was too busy trying to get away from my moth—"
The boy finally looked up, his blue eyes going wide as he took in Rubeus' sheer size. Rubeus considered turning around and running back to his father, but the red-head soon cracked a grin and stuck out his hand.
"I'm Septimus, Septimus Weasley."
Rubeus looked at the boy's hand. Most people never stayed in his presence long enough to ask for his name.
"Rubeus Hagrid," he said, taking it.
"You've got quite a strong grip there, mate."
He quickly let go, his cheeks growing hot. "Oh, er, I'm big boned." Septimus tilted his head, and he added, "Well, tha' and, er, me mother was a giantess."
Septimus was silent for a moment, and Rubeus held his breath.
Soon, the same, large toothy grin lit up his face. "Wicked!"
Rubeus blinked, not sure he had heard correctly. He let his breath out only when the boy then nodded towards the train and said, "C'mon, let's get a compartment before they all fill up."
The feeling of relief continued as he took Septimus' trunk and, with just a little wiggling, squeezed through the door and onto the train. Everything was going to be okay.
"Relax, mate, you're going to pass."
Rubeus spared Septimus a small smile, but it didn't stop his hand from shaking. Potions was his worst class. When he wasn't busy trying to hold onto the fiddly, small phials, his mind often wandered to how he could smuggle as many beetles as possible into his pockets so that they weren't crushed up into ingredients. Really, it was a miracle he had made it into his second year at all.
He wouldn't disappoint his father, though, and with a deep breath, he tossed six snake fangs into his cauldron. Blue smoke wafted from the surface, and he choked back a cough.
"Ten minutes left," Professor Slughorn called from the front of the classroom.
Sweat covered Rubeus' forehead as he fumbled with a phial of dried Billywig Stings. It knocked against his cauldron, almost smashing the glass in his fist. With a trembling hand, he carefully placed a few of them into his cauldron and hoped it would be enough for a pass.
"Mr Hagrid, could you come up here, please?"
The entire contents of the phial spilt into his potion, and as it began to foam up, he walked over to the Professor.
Professor Slughorn was not alone. Rubeus' Head of House, Professor Dumbledore, was standing next to the man's desk, his blue eyes holding nothing but concern.
Rubeus gulped as he approached them, glancing quickly over at his bubbling cauldron. Had he already messed up his potion enough that they were going to fail him before time was up?
"Yes, sir?"
The two professors shared a look that set his stomach churning. It was worse than he thought. Was he going to be expelled for being a bad student?
Professor Dumbledore was the first to answer, and he gave him a small smile. "You're not in any trouble, Mr Hagrid. I just—I'd like it if you'd come with me to Professor Dippet's office for a moment."
His stomach tightened as he looked back over at his cauldron. A pale blue cloud was now hovering over the surface as goo oozed over the rim, hissing as it dripped onto the desk.
He gulped again. "But wha' 'bout the exam?"
This time, Professor Slughorn cleared his throat. He stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "Don't you worry a thing about any of your exams. You're doing well; I'll sort out your marks. You go on with Professor Dumbledore, alright?"
Rubeus let out his breath, and all his worry went with it. "Yes, sir."
As he followed Professor Dumbledore out of the room, he resisted doing a little jig. He hadn't failed! He no longer cared why the Headmaster wanted to see him; everything was okay, and he could now write to his father to say that he had passed.
"Do you have anything else to say for yourself?"
Rubeus shook his head, his mind numb. Oh, there was plenty he wanted to say, but neither Professor Dippet nor the members of the school board would listen. They had already decided he was guilty of opening the Chamber of Secrets, of causing that poor girl's death.
"Very well. Rubeus Hagrid, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your wand, please."
With a trembling hand, Rubeus dropped his wand into the Ministry worker's outstretched hand.
Snap!
Just like that, his wand was now in two pieces and tossed to the floor.
"Professor Dumbledore will escort you to your dormitory to gather your belongings," the wizard said. "We are sorry it has come to this."
Rubeus bent down and picked up his wand—or what was left of it—allowing his tears to fall freely. He didn't care that his nose was running, or that his hiccoughs echoed across the Great Hall.
"Come, Rubeus, it'll be okay," Professor Dumbledore said.
He nodded and allowed the man to guide him up to the Gryffindor common room where most of his trunk was already packed. All that was left to do was to fetch a few bits and pieces from his bedside table and his time at Hogwarts would officially be over.
"I have spoken with the board, and they have agreed to allow you to remain here on school grounds given your home circumstances," Professor Dumbledore said.
Rubeus sat down on his bed—the only non-four-poster in the room—his shoulders still heaving up and down. He picked up the wooden-framed photograph on his bedside table.
Perhaps he was still in shock, or perhaps he just didn't care anymore, but he couldn't help the relief flooding through him as he stared into his father's smiling face. The man had always been proud of him for getting into Hogwarts, for trying his hardest to be a good student. He could only imagine how his father's heart would've broken if he had lived to see him get expelled.
But he hadn't seen it. He hadn't seen his wand get snapped. He hadn't heard the Ministry worker forbid him from practising magic ever again, or say how much of a disappointment he was to the school community. He had died the year before, forever proud of his half-giant son.
Rubeus clung to this knowledge and the relief it brought as his tears soaked the bed sheets.
Yes, relief was the best emotion, because it meant the worst was over, and somehow, somehow everything would be okay.