Dumbledore thoughtfully looked sideways from the latest copy of The Daily Prophet into his teacup as Hagrid set the pot down. The most recent addition to the residents of Hagrid's hut was gleefully swinging in a makeshift crib made of tied up leather. "I've grown acustomed to your love of stray pets, Hagrid; but I believe the limit is found right about here."
"Well, sir, it's just temporary. Y'see, the boy's mother was so insistent that I take care of him and all, I could hardly refuse. I mean, if we'd all look after each other rather than ourselves, things would be a lot brighter, times being what they are and all."
"Indeed. I don't suppose you've seen the latest news, have you, my friend? Tell me, does this woman look familiar at all?" Dumbledore set the paper down and pointed to the cover page. There was another murder by Dark Forces Unknown, the victim found in a dark corner of Knockturn Alley. The picture clearly displayed, over and over, a scene of the local aurors hovering over the slight figure of a young woman lying crumpled in the alley – the victim of the most dreaded of curses. What little of Hagrid's features that could be seen turned an ashen white when the aurors moved aside and the picture displayed the poor, desperate woman he encountered the other day, who trusted to him the most precious thing in her world.
Dumbledore's features softened to the most gentlest of mentors. "Most unfortunate. So young a woman, and so vile a deed. We will need to find the young lad's family."
Hagrid suddenly rose up to his full height; the timbers under his feet groaning for the strain. "There's no need for that. I'll see to the lad m'self."
"Hagrid, I know how you are and how you feel. However, Hogwarts is no place for a child. He will grow up alone and isolated, unable to play with other children and too young to relate to the students. He will get under foot, in the way, and into trouble. He's much better off with relatives."
Dumbledore suddenly stopped as Hagrid stiffened against him, perhaps for the first time in his life. "Beggin' yer pardon, headmaster, but I don't think you know what you think – I really don't. The lady insisted, see? She pleaded for me to take care of her boy, and she made me promise to do it personally. Now, a promise is a promise, especially to a dead soul, so I've got no choice but to care for the boy m'self, no matter what anybody says. Besides, if the boy had kin who were any good, wouldn't she've taken him to them first?"
"Perhaps she had no choice; in any case, I seem to have no choice either." Hagrid anticipated a number of options, ranging from rebuke to his dismissal. Dumbledore, however, simply settled into his usual benign self. "I'll assign a house-elf to assist you in some of the more tedious tasks so that your work doesn't suffer. When the need arises, we will find a room in the castle for him. Of course, if we do find the child's family and they meet with your approval, I will expect some amount of co-operation."
Taken as he was by Dumbledore's attitude, Hagrid could only stutter. "Well, um, er, of course! If the lad's got family what will care for him proper like, I've got nothing against that."
It was many months before the woman's identity was discovered. By that time, Voldemort was dead, the famous Harry Potter had his scar, and any trace of the infant's family had long since gone cold. Meanwhile, Hagrid was still Hagrid, an elf named Willy was an eager caretaker, and Eric Sable was steadily becoming a fixture at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.