He was easily the tallest one in the crowd, with his wild hair making him look fierce. He didn't care, not really. Nothing much mattered anymore. He had no mom…no, she had left a long time ago. He had no dad…he had just died. He had no friends…not many people wanted to associate with him, because of what he was. He didn't care about that, either…though most twelve year-olds would. He agreed with what his dad had said. "If they don't like you because of what you are instead of liking you for who you are, they're not worth you time." His dad had been a smart bloke, very wise and kind. The world had lost something when he died, though not many people noticed. This 'crowd' as he had called it was nothing more than a small gathering. His dad had had few friends, but the ones he did have were loyal. They were the best folks in the world.
'Hello, Hagrid," someone said quietly above him. "May I sit down?" Hagrid shrugged. He really didn't care. He had no family anymore…no one who loved him. It didn't matter if someone sat down. When had it ever?
"Sure," he said. He felt whoever it was sit down next to him.
"I'm sorry, Hagrid. You're father was a wonderful man…it's a hard loss, for us all," the man, Hagrid realized it was a man now, said quietly. Hagrid nodded glumly. It was a hard loss, but for him especially. His father had always loved him, always cared for him, always accepted him as he was. Not many people did that…no, very few accepted him…and even fewer liked him. It was a hard lot for a twelve-year old, but Hagrid was used to it by now. He had lived with it his whole life. "If you need to talk, Hagrid, I'm here," the man said. Hagrid didn't say anything. When would the guy understand that he just wanted to be left alone? He didn't want someone taking pity on him out of loyalty to his dad. He still had more respect for himself than that, because his dad had had more respect for him than that. The man still didn't leave. "Hagrid, I would like to sit with you during the funeral," he said. Hagrid said nothing. He wanted to be left alone. Maybe if he was quiet this guy would understand that. Maybe if he ignored him the man would leave him alone. It didn't work, the guy just sat there. Hagrid knew his dad would be ashamed of how rude he was being. He knew that his dad had raised him better than that, so he answered.
"Mmmm," was all he said, though. It was non-committal. The guy could take it however he wanted, though Hagrid hoped he got the hint. Hagrid had yet to look up from his tennis-shoes (a man's size seventeen already). He didn't want to look up towards the front of the church…he didn't want to see the coffin. That would make it final…make it real. He didn't want it to be real…he wanted to hold on to that futile hope that his dad would come back, that this was all a bad dream and he would wake up to his father calling him. He didn't accept it…not yet, not until his dad was buried. Maybe not even then. His dad was all he had in the world, with him gone…he had nothing. He was still young, and as much as he tried to hide it, he did need someone to care for him. His rough features made him look as if he didn't need someone to care, it hid the kind and needy person inside. He needed acceptance, just like everyone else did. His tough skin was only a physical characteristic…his soul was soft and his heart was bared to anyone who took time to look. His dad always did…his father had understood the person behind the wild exterior. He needed that acceptance, and subconsciously craved it now that it was gone. As long as he had had that-as long as he had had his dad-he didn't care what other's thought about him. He had known that at least one person would always accept him, but now he didn't have that assurance. Even his dad's friends were giving him a wide berth, giving their condolences from afar with a scared look on their face. They thought he was dangerous, like many others. His dad had understood, but no one else really did. They didn't cry for his loss, they didn't think he felt it. He did, and it hurt horribly. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he remembered his dad and him talking one day, many years ago. He had been five.
"Hagrid! Hagrid! Put it down!" his father called, running over to his son, who was already almost taller that he was. He was picking up a young tree by the roots, not meaning to hurt it, just unaware of his strength.
"But I jus' wanted to look at it, dad," Hagrid said, still holding the tree. His father smiled down at him.
"Yeah, but you'll kill the tree that-a way," he said, pointing at the roots. Hagrid looked down and quickly let go of the tree. He looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry, dad…I didn't mean to," he said, looking up at his father. His dad smiled at him, patting his shoulder.
"I know, son, I know. You're just strong, that's all," he said, and they continued their walk.
"None of the other kids say that, dad. They say I'm mean and scary…they say I'm a monster, sometimes…I'm not, am I?" Hagrid asked, looking at his dad worriedly. He was such a kind, gentle, soft-hearted boy for his size. He didn't want to hurt anyone and hated that people were scared of him. It hurt him when other kids screamed when they saw him.
"Yes, but they just don't understand you, son. They would like you if they got to know you," he said, squeezing his son's hand.
"But they don'. I don' have any friends," Hagrid said, tears welling in his eyes. His father turned and looked him right in the eye.
"It's simply because they don't try to know you, son…that's all. You're not a monster, but a kind boy. You're wonderful and the best son any man could ask for, okay? If they don't like you, they don't need you as their friend, huh? If they don't even talk to you, you're too good for them, okay? Don't forget that," he said. Then smiling, he tapped his sons shoulder. "You're it!' he said, before running away quickly. Hagrid laughed and started running after his dad, trying to catch him.
The twelve year-old Hagrid felt tears fall from his eyes. He didn't even try to stop them. He remembered their many games of tag, the few times they wrestled, the many card games they'd played. He smiled through his tears as he remembered all the laughs he and his father had shared. They had been friends…Hagrid would even say his dad was his best friend.
Every night, before he went to bed, his dad would read him a story. Hagrid was a bit old for it now, but they still did it. His father enjoyed it and Hagrid loved spending time with his dad. They would always talk and laugh. Many of the stories his dad choose carefully. Hagrid's favorite had always been the Ugly Duckling. His father thought it was good he'd liked it. He cried a bit harder thinking about his father kissing his forehead and murmering, "I love you, son," before he went to sleep. It was a ritual his father loved to do. He'd found a way to do it even when Hagrid was ten and thought he was above such things. He'd come in after Hagrid was asleep-or he thought Hagrid was asleep-and do it anyway. Hagrid never stopped him. His father's smile at he stood watching him always let him know that his dad liked it. If his dad liked it, Hagrid was fine with it.
"Hagrid, we need to go to the front," the person next to him said. He felt a hand slip under his elbow and help him up. Whoever this person was, he was kind. He decided to look up. He almost gasped as he looked into the sad face of his Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore. He'd always like Dumbledore the best. "Come on," the man said quietly, leading Hagrid down the center walk way and to his seat. Hagrid sat, finally looking at the coffin. It was then that the awful reality hit. His father, his father, was gone. Dead. Hagrid would never see him again. He broke down right there and sobbed, not caring about the whispers going around or the glances. It was his dad after all.
A man in black stood up and started a speck, but Hagrid ignored it. He'd never seen the man before. The man had no idea who his father was. He was watching the coffin through his tears, knowing his dad was there. Suddenly, people were standing up all around him. He glanced up to see Dumbledore smiling sadly down at him.
"It's time to go, Hagrid," he said. Hagrid nodded and stood up shakily. But he didn't leave. He looked at Dumbledore.
"Can I see him…on last time?" he asked quietly. Dumbledore looked at him, and there was no twinkle in his somber blue eyes.
"Of course, Hagrid…take all the time you need," he said. Hagrid nodded, unable to say anything through the tears that clogged his throat. He walked slowly up to the coffin, gasping for breath through his tears. He wiped his eyes and looked into the still, lifeless face of his father. He stood there, looking, watching. Everyone was looking at him, but he didn't care. He didn't even notice. He was looking at his dad…and he was saying goodbye.