Written for Battlefield Wars(Characters: Albus Dumbledore, Rubeus Hagrid, Prompts: Spectacles (word), Sunburnt Orange (color), Hand-held mirror (object), The Poor Ghost by Christina Rossetti (poem), "Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one come to you without leaving happier" Mother Teresa (quote))
Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own anything related to this.
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"Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend,
I loved you for life, but life has an end;
Thro' sickness I was ready to tend:
But death mars all, which we cannot mend."
-The Poor Ghost, by Christina Rossetti
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The tomb was white. It was the only grave on Hogwarts ground. It had been Dumbledore's wish to be buried at the school. No one had protested and the funeral had gone by with a heavy flood of tears. The tomb had been sealed and there was a feeling of closure that just didn't seem right.
Dumbledore had always seemed to immortal. The thought of him dying was something Hagrid had never given thought to. It didn't seem real. It was like a bad dream that he'd wake up from any moment now.
However, Hagrid knew this wasn't a dream. Standing up the hill from the white tomb, the horizon a sunburnt orange as the day came to a close, the groundskeeper allowed a single tear to fall down his cheek in the memory of a man who had quickly become like a father to him.
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He knew he was different. After all, for a first year he was about the size of a fifteen year old. He easily could have passed for one. He'd never had a problem with his size before. But Hogwarts was different than home. His classmates were different than his family.
They taunted him for his size. For his unruly mess of hair. For anything and everything they could think of. He always ran off in tears, and they'd make fun of him even more.
"Why the tears young man?"
Hagrid looked up at the voice. Professor Dumbledore stood over him. A smile was on the man's face as he joined the student in sitting on the hill.
Hagrid whipped away the tears, turning away from him. "It's nothing."
"Nothing doesn't bring tears," Dumbledore said. He sat quietly for a moment, smiling out at the sight below them. The lake stretched out before them, glistening a dark shine against the bright blue sky. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."
"It's nothing," Hagrid lied. "I just… why am I different Professor?"
"Different?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as if unsure what the young student meant. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Hagrid trailed off, his eyes catching sight of some students playing off in the distance. "I'm bigger than anyone else."
"Is that all that's bothering you," still Dumbledore was smiling.
Hagrid turned towards the professor. "What do you mean that's all? Professor, I'm huge."
"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Dumbledore said. "Our differences are what make us unique. They are things to be celebrated."
"There's not much to celebrate," Hagrid muttered. He drew his legs close, frowning down at the lake.
He apparently took after his mother in size. She was a giantess, or so his father said. He didn't really remember her as she'd left when he was only three. But he had pictures so he knew just how big he could really get.
His father was short, and now Hagrid wished he could have taken after the man more. Maybe than he would be a normal size. Maybe than people wouldn't make fun of him. Maybe he'd have friends.
"I have to disagree," Dumbledore said. It took Hagrid a moment to backtrack the conversation and remember where they had left off. "Every difference we have from one another only helps to make us who we are. You're height doesn't make you a freak, or a monster, or whatever else you may have been telling yourself. It makes you who you are. And who you are is something to appreciate and praise."
Hagrid tried to take in what the professor said, but he just couldn't.
"Here," Dumbledore withdrew his wand. With a silent spell, he transfigured a stone into a hand-held mirror. "I want you to take this, and look into it. Tell me what you see."
Hagrid took it and frowned at the image. "A freak."
"No," Dumbledore spoke softly. "Tell me what you see."
Hagrid didn't really understand, but tried again. "Brown hair. Brown eyes. A big nose."
"Do you know what I see?" Dumbledore asked. He took the mirror, but kept it facing the young student. "I see a kind and gentle soul. A pure soul. Something that is rare to find. I see a young man with a bright future ahead of him. A young man who will go on to do great things for this world."
"I think you need to clean your mirror," said Hagrid.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I think the mirror is fine. I believe it is our way of seeing things that needs to be adjusted. Because if you could see what I see in you Rubeus, then you would know that what those kids say about you isn't true."
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He was twelve when his father passed away. For a week, no one made fun of him. It didn't make it hurt less though.
"Have you heard from your mother lately?" Dumbledore asked as he finished pouring the tear.
"Ya," Hagrid replied sadly. He thought of his half-brother and distant mother and doubted they really considered him family. "I'm heading there for the summer."
Dumbledore pushed his spectacles back into their proper place on the bridge of his nose. "You will be back for your third year."
"Of course," Hagrid smiled into his warm cup. "I would miss this place too much to leave."
"And Hogwarts would miss you," Dumbledore said.
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He couldn't look when they snapped his wand. Hagrid was only thirteen – not that he looked it – but they glared at him like he was a monster. He knew he was some kind of monster – he'd been told this for long enough to believe it – but he knew he wasn't the monster they saw him as. He didn't let that creature lose. Didn't do any of the things Riddle accused him of. He didn't kill Myrtle.
But who were they going to believe? The half giant or the Prefect.
They gave him his wand back, snapped in two and unusable. It was like an extra insult as they told him he would never be allowed to do magic again. As if it weren't bad enough, he realized he was expelled from Hogwarts. He could have taken everything if he just knew he could return to the castle. Return to his home.
The one silver lining was that his father didn't have to see his son become such a disappointment. Hagrid was at least thankful for that one condolence.
"I am sorry," Dumbledore's voice was followed by a hand on Hagrid's shoulder. The two looked eye to eye and Hagrid realized just how tall he had gotten. He'd only get taller.
"It's not your fault," Hagrid shrugged. He didn't want to look at the Professor right now. He didn't want to see the disappointment and hatred that would no doubt be there.
"It's not yours either," Dumbledore said with a sad smile. "I know you didn't do this."
"Everyone else does," Hagrid said harshly. "So why don't you."
"Because, I know you. You are one of the kindest, most gentle people I have meet in many years. I know you are not capable of committing a crime such as this."
"Thank you," Hagrid said, a smile tugging onto his lips for the first time in weeks.
"Where are you planning on going now?"
Hagrid shrugged. "I don't know."
"There's always your mother."
"Ya," the smile was now gone from Hagrid's lips. "There's always her."
"You don't sound too thrilled." Dumbledore looked at him with a frown. The boy didn't answer, only looked down. It was the signal the Professor needed. "I talked to Headmaster Dippet. It seems we are in need for a groundskeeper. It won't give much in salary, but it will offer work. And a place to stay. If you'll take it."
A shine went into Hagrid's eyes. "At Hogwarts?
"Of course," Dumbledore smiled openly.
"Won't you get in trouble?" Hagrid didn't want that. He didn't want to be a burden to Dumbledore or Dippet. "I mean, I'm not allowed to do magic. And I'm expelled. Won't they complain about me being there?"
"You will not be in classes, nor will you be needing to perform magic for the job." Dumbledore answered. "At least not in the ways they will know and disapprove of. And the request to hire you has already gone through and been accepted. All that's left is for you to accept the offer."
"Of course." Hagrid didn't take a second thought, he just took the offer.
He embraced the professor, and tried not to cry into the man's robes. He hadn't cried when they snapped his wand. Nor when they told him he wouldn't be allowed to perform magic. He had nearly cried when he learned that Hogwarts' was taken from him. There was not stopping the tears now. He melted into the professor as he hugged him back.
Over and over Hagrid thanked him for the offer. Thanked him for returning his home to him.
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The legacy Dumbledore left behind was one of love and understanding. There were very few people who could talk to the man and leave still bitter. Hagrid was the prime example of that. He had come to Hogwarts in tears of being different. His life had fallen apart and been pieced back together at that school. Dumbledore had been there through it all, giving words of comfort and support to the young man. He had believed in Hagrid when no one else did.
And now that man was gone. He still couldn't believe it. Nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed real.
A soft rain began to fall around him. Hagrid pulled out his pink umbrella and stared at the sky, wondering if he would need it. The sky was fading into a night blue, and the rain didn't look too bad. He was going to put the umbrella away, but kept it out.
He didn't understand how the professor had done it. But he'd fixed Hagrid's wand. It was kept secret, hidden inside the tattered umbrella, and Merlin knew the trouble they would get into should it be found, but it was fixed when it shouldn't have been. He was told he'd never be allowed to do magic again. But he could, and he had to thank Dumbledore for that. The Headmaster had taken to teaching Hagrid during their free time, of course in secret for fear of getting caught. But he continued to teach Hagrid the necessary things, and while the game keeper may not be able to perform magic flawlessly, he knew enough to get by.
He had everything to thank to Dumbledore. Had it not been for the man, Hagrid would have been out on his own at thirteen with no family and no way to care for himself. Instead, Hagrid had a home. He had a family. More important, he had a surrogate father.
Turning from his view of the grave, he caught sight of his house at the edge of the forest. It was still slightly charred from where Bellatrix Lestrange had set it on fire. It was nothing too damaging. The light rain began to pick up as Hagrid moved towards his home.
It wasn't right for Dumbledore to have died the way he did. But even in death, Hagrid knew that the man was loved by all of those he had helped over the years.
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