HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO J. K. ROWLING


When Harry opened the door, he was met by darkness. A movement of his wand made the lamps turn on and finally see the inside of the hut.

The first blow he got was the smell. Not that it was unpleasant. It was just familiar. The smell of soil, tea, herbs, somehow even Fang's, after so long after his demise. The hut had been closed for a bit, so there also was a bit of a moldy scent floating in the air. Nothing that couldn't be solved by opening the windows and letting fresh air in.

The second one, after the smell turned the cabin into a time machine which brought him back to his school years, was when he looked around and saw the place exactly the way Hagrid had left it. A little mug on the table, with a coffee which had ran cold. Books about creatures which could have easily come from nightmares in every corner, some open. The bedsheets not very well arranged, like he woke up in the morning not feeling like making it and recurred to the quickest solution.

Harry walked around the hut and observed every item, every object. Back when him, Hermione and Ron visited him every time they could, he used to look around and observe all the bizarre things Hagrid kept in his house—it was fascinating to him, of course, being a boy who grew up with muggles, thinking that dragons, hippogriffs and giants were just fantasy. Now that he could nose around freely, he realized how little he knew of the wonders Hagrid kept in his house. All the strange knick-knack. Things many people would have found garbage but anyone who knew Hagrid, his taste for the peculiar, the unique, found nice.

Apparently there was a letter. A kind of testament, written shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. After seeing death from close, he probably realized he had things he wanted to leave tied, just in case Voldemort returned once again or someone else took his place or, why not?, something like this happened again. His writing wasn't the best, but, for what could be understood from it, he authorized Harry, Ron and Hermione to take what they wanted from his house and keep it as a memento of him. He hadn't talked about the subject with his brother and sister-in-law, but he would let them take everything. He didn't need objects to remember Hagrid. He couldn't have kept them. It felt like stealing from him. He couldn't even touch anything in that room without feeling he was going to upset him...Silly, wasn't it?

He stopped to watch a little something he kept near the bed. A photograph, of him and his little friends—and they were little indeed: this was their first year in Hogwarts. The photo was probably taken around Christmas, seeing how everything was snowy. The three of them were looking up at Hagrid, and he smiled at each one of them, his hands on Harry's and Hermione's shoulders.

He didn't dare to grab this picture, either. So he looked at it for very long, until he almost memorized every posture, every smile and gesture. Then, he sat on the place Hagrid used to sit in, and looked around him. Like, after watching the picture for so long, he almost saw it in front of himself.

He was seeing Hagrid standing there, serving them tea he prepared in his fire. Talking to them about everything happening in Hogwarts, past or present, even things he shouldn't tell him. "Should not have said that, should not have said that..." Showing him the things he was enthusiastic about. That time with Norbert popped into his mind authomatically. It made him smile.

And that was the third blow, the one which made tears start flowing.

Because he remembered all the things he wouldn't experience any more, what the new students of Hogwarts were going to miss.

When Dumbledore died, it felt weird strange to be in Hogwarts without him. But now that it was Hagrid the one who wasn't there...It felt wrong on a different level. There is no Hogwarts without you. He meant it when he said it. Who would greet and say goodbye to the students on the train? Who could the children come to to tell them about their problems with the teachers? Was there anyone in the whole world as enthusiastic about magical creatures as he was, who could teach the children to drop their prejudice about them?

But...he turned his eyes to the moving photograph and couldn't help a little smile growing, showered in tears.

Someone once said don't be sad because it's over, be happy because it happened.

He would never forget Hagrid was the one who rescued him from the ruins of his house after his parents were killed, and, later, from the Dursleys. The one who told him he was a wizard and helped him understand the magical world. The one who gave him his first owl, lovely Hedwig, and the first birthday cake he ever received in his life.

He would never, ever forget him.

Yes. He was so happy he came into his life and changed it forever, just as he was glad his children had the chance to meet him.


THE END


In loving memory of Robbie Coltrane (1950-2022)