A/N: This is my first fic! Love it, hate it, but just review!

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 crisp leaves and moist earth beneath his boots, with 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 the forest. 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. They couldn't be dead.

Muggle women pushed open their curtains to glare 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 warty witches. Grinning pumpkins leered from every direction. 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.

Abruptly, he could see darkness at the end of the lane. He lengthened his stride. The blood pounded in his head, and his heart grew cold.

He stood at the neatly clipped hedge. The gate was painted a gleaming white; Hagrid could see it well in the darkness. James had taken pride in this cottage, and cared for it with love. He had wanted a nice place for his family to live. The cottage looked the same as ever; cozy, and larger than the others on the street. He remembered how much happiness the dark wooden walls once contained.

He finally allowed his black eyes to rest on the right half of the house. The sight made him inhale sharply. It was completely demolished. Rubble lay scattered on the ground around it and he could still see dust rising from the remains. He hurried forward through the gate. Before he realized it, he was at the front door, which was hanging by its hinges.

Dust filled the air of the entrance hall. A photograph of the Potters hung on the wall to his left; it showed James smiling proudly down at baby Harry in his arms. He beamed up at Hagrid occasionally, but James couldn't tear his eyes away from his son 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 audibly. Harry slept peacefully, his closed eyelids concealing green eyes, identical to his mother's. 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 forgotten rubbish. Hagrid felt a crack form across his mind, spreading and branching. He collapsed to his knees with a colossal thud and gathered the limp form in his arms, wailing loudly. He held James and rocked on his heels, gasping for breath, his chest aching with the strain of pulling in air.

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 he was nothing in comparison to Dumbledore. 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 soared into his shattered mind. Hagrid hauled himself to his feet, gently laying James' body on the floor. The thought that their bodies should be together drove him blindly forward. He climbed the stairs and rounded the corner, searching the darkness through his tears.

He found Lily in the nursery, the moonlight reflecting off her auburn hair. The door was hanging by its hinges. The roof was obliterated; he could see the moon and the houses down the lane. Fallen debris concealed part of her body. He dug through it and lifted her into 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, to imagine the green flash of magic that ended their lives and froze them in time.

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 that 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 of 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 Harry's forehead with the motion. On his forehead there was an angry red slash, in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Harry woke up. He looked up at the person holding him and, recognizing Hagrid's face, slowly inspected the room around him. The sight must have frightened him, for he began to whimper. The two orphans cried together then; the giant man and the tiny infant. Everything had changed now, for the both of them.

Hagrid eventually forced himself away from the house. He 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. Turning, he saw a light slowly descending from the sky. It was a motorcycle. It landed gracefully beside him, the engine purring. The helmetless driver 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. And Sirius Black, proud and refined, collapsed on the pavement, and let out a sound like a wounded dog. Harry woke with a sigh.

Sirius started at the sound. "Harry?" he whispered incredulously. He gently took the baby from Hagrid's arms and held him with rapture. "How is this possible?" he asked, rubbing Harry's back to comfort him. The joy on his face was indescribable.

"I don't 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. "May I take Harry with me? I'll take care of him. I am his godfather." His eyes were clouded as he clutched his best friend's son to his breast.

"I can', I'm sorry, Sirius. Dumbledore's orders."

"But-" he began to protest. His eyes darted around, and his arms clutched Harry closer. But then, his face suddenly cleared, as if thinking better of an escape. "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 the last words.

"Really? Ah, yer don' know how much easier tha' makes my job."

Sirius pulled out his wand, conjured blankets, and tucked them into the sidecar of the bike. He then arranged Harry into it lovingly. Sirius stared into his godson's striking eyes for a moment.

"Take care of him, Hagrid." Sirius was suddenly solemn, his composure returned.

"I will. Don' worry." He smothered Sirius in his 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 once, but Sirius had already disappeared.

Harry lived in Hagrid's tiny hut for a single day. He played with Fang and napped in the sunlight streaming in over Hagrid's armchair, 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.

That night, Hagrid soared through the sky to the little town in Surrey. Dumbledore and McGonagall were waiting for him on the dark street. Soon baby Harry was lying fitfully on his aunt's doorstep, waiting to begin his new life.

Hagrid cried as he flew away from Privet Drive that night. He promised himself that he would be there for 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 keep his word.