An hour later, Elizabeth had given them a tour of the house, pointing out a playroom that Harry could use while they were there, including a crib in the corner that he could nap in. She showed them where to find food and where Hagrid himself could nap. She explained that she needed to return to St. Mungo's for an afternoon shift, but she would return before they had to leave.
Hagrid had appeared uncomfortable at being left alone in the house with Harry. Dumbledore had confirmed his suspicion that someone had tried to kill Harry and Hagrid was worried that they would try again. Hagrid had no means to defend them. Elizabeth lessened but didn't quite dispel his worries by saying that Dumbledore had already prepared the house with the best charms and spells at his disposal. Short of being Unplottable, no one would be able to locate the two of them.
Hagrid was now alone with Harry. He was sitting on the floor of the nursery, watching Harry play with the toys scattered across the floor. He had immediately latched on to a little toy broomstick that could fly him around the room, at a safe distance above the floor. As Hagrid watched him, he remembered seeing something very similar that morning when he had pulled Harry out of the wrecked Potter house. Was it just that morning that everything had happened? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Harry continued to zoom around on his broomstick, occasionally bumping into Hagrid's massive frame. Hagrid just laughed it off and Harry usually laughed as well and went off again. Hagrid was quite sure that if he removed every other toy from the room, Harry would still be absolutely smitten with the broomstick.
As Harry continued playing, worry started setting in again on Hagrid, not worry about their location being found and someone coming to murder them. No, he was worried about caring for Harry. Hagrid had no children, though he sometimes considered the beasts he cared for his children. But young thestrals and hippogriffs required significantly different care than a human child. For one of the few times in his life, Hagrid felt out of his league. Elizabeth had told him how to change dirty diapers, what kind of food to feed him, approximately what time he should take a nap, and a variety of other tidbits that Hagrid had intently listened to, but now that he was alone with Harry, he found he severely was lacking in confidence in caring for him.
Satisfied that Harry was content for the moment and that there was nothing in the room that he could possibly get into trouble with, Hagrid heaved himself to his feet and started to leave the room. The slight whooshing noise that the broomstick had been making suddenly stopped and Hagrid turned to see Harry had come to a complete stop when he saw that his companion was leaving. Hagrid encouraged him to continue playing, saying he was going to be right back. Harry decided it was time to discard the broomstick and instead started playing peek-a-boo with teddy bear he had been given to play with earlier.
Hagrid quietly left the room, leaving the door cracked behind him as he left. He didn't know why he left the room except that he partly wanted to stretch his legs, but he also couldn't bear to keep watching Harry play. Every time Harry's face was towards him, Hagrid couldn't help but trace the scar with his eyes. And every time he did, he felt incredible remorse and guilt. Granted, there was nothing he could have done to save the Potters, he hadn't even known it was happening at the time, but he still felt like he should have done something. Now a little boy, barely able to comprehend what had happened to him, was orphaned forever.
Something Elizabeth had said earlier, just before leaving, resurfaced in his mind: It's a little unusual that he hasn't asked for his parents. I wonder if even some small part of him understands what happened. Poor Harry. Poor Harry, indeed! Did his one-year-old mind understand that his parents were never coming back? That he was all alone in the world? Well, not alone completely. He did still have Sirius, his godfather.
Hagrid had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. What had been the examination room when he arrived had transformed into a very simple lounge. On a side table were a couple of copies of the Daily Prophet. Hagrid leaned over to pick them up, hoping that one of them at least would shed some light on the events in the wizarding world. The top copy was over two weeks old. Hagrid had already read that one. Sorting through the pile he found another from ten days past, one from eight days, one from three days past and the last from the previous morning. Hagrid had read all except the last and so he pulled it out of the stack before setting the others aside.
The headline, emblazoned across the front page, declared that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been sighted. Hagrid quickly read through the article, rather alarmed that, not only had he been sighted, but he had been sighted not twenty miles north of London. Most of the article was rubbish, exaggerated eyewitness accounts from the couple of wizards that had spotted him, speculation on where he was going, opinions on what his followers were up to; basically a lot of nonsense that was made up or embellished in order to sell copies. The rest of the newspaper wasn't any more informative. With the events at the Potter cottage very late the previous evening, Hagrid was quite anxious to read the current day's newspaper, knowing without a doubt that more information could be had from it. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found.
As if the very act of desiring to see it was enough, a rolled up newspaper shot out of the fireplace and neatly onto the side table where the other newspapers had been. Now that it was here, Hagrid was afraid to open it. What news would it really contain? With trembling fingers, he picked it up and untied the string around it.
Right across the front page in large, bold letters was "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Has Been Vanquished At Last!" Hagrid gasped and almost dropped the newspaper in surprise. You-Know-Who is gone? Forever? It sounded much too good to be true. He read the rest of the front page and almost tore the paper in two trying to find the rest of the article. When he had finished, he collapsed onto a sofa, completely obliterating the frame and leaving him in an awkward position on the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to move. The Daily Prophet had brought both good news and terrible news.
The good news: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been destroyed. Quotes, facts, eyewitness reports—everything supported it and, for once, everything mentioned supported everything else mentioned. The terrible news: it had all happened in the Potter cottage. Opening to where the article continued, Hagrid had been surprised to see a large photo of the destroyed Potter home that took up an entire half a page. Several members of the Ministry of Magic were shown out front interrogating other wizards, Muggles and swapping notes with each other on what they had learned. A few were visible in the background, crawling over the wreckage, inspecting every last detail. The whole scene made Hagrid sick. Until that moment, he had never entertained the idea that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had personally been there. He had thought that Death Eaters had been sent to do the dirty work, but not him. A chill ran down his back. He had been there...only hours before Hagrid himself. Right in that very house.
Something Elizabeth had noticed that Dumbledore had confirmed earlier came back to him: Harry Potter, at this point in time, has the distinct honor of being the only person to ever survive Avada Kedavra. What possible threat could a child be to the greatest dark wizard of their time?
A giggle brought him back to his present surroundings. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Harry had crawled out of the nursery and down the hall to the lounge. He had pulled himself up to a sitting position and was looking at the mess on the floor and giggling, his chubby hands clapping gleefully. Hagrid couldn't help but smile at the boy; his laughter was quite infectious. Harry leaned forward, preparing to drop to all fours to crawl closer, but he leaned back, a yawn encompassing his entire body as his fists rubbed fiercely at his eyes. When the fit was passed, he looked at Hagrid, tiredly trying not to yawn again.
Elizabeth had said something about feeding him some lunch and then putting him down for an afternoon nap. It was probably close to that time, though Hagrid couldn't readily see a timepiece in the room. He heaved himself to his feet and reached down to pick Harry up. He looked embarrassedly at the sofa, broken on the ground. Sometime he forgot just how much bigger than a human he was. Unsure of what he should do with the mess, he opted, for the moment, to just leave it there while he attended to Harry.
::~*~::
An hour later, Harry was standing in his crib, eyeballing Hagrid warily across the room. Lunch had been an adventurous affair. Much of the food Elizabeth had pointed out for Harry had ended up anywhere but Harry's mouth. Hagrid already felt bad enough about the broken sofa; add to that the food-splattered kitchen and Hagrid was starting to think he was doomed to destroy much of the house.
Getting Harry changed into clean clothing had also been a grand adventure. Even now, as Hagrid stared back at Harry, he was quite positive that something wasn't right about his attire but he couldn't put his finger on it. He gave up after a couple of minutes, convinced that raising children would never be his lot in life.
Elizabeth had told him when the time came for a nap, to just put Harry in the crib and leave the room, saying he would probably cry himself to sleep, which was normal. However, when that time came and Hagrid started out of the room, Harry screwed up his eyes and started bawling so loud, Hagrid was sure the neighbors would come running. He had come back into the room and stood over the crib, waiting while Harry's eyes steadily grew heavier and heavier. When his eyes had been closed for a couple of minutes, Hagrid had turned away to leave, but once he had reached the door, the crying came again. Turning around, he saw that Harry was standing up in his crib, watching Hagrid leave, tears streaming down his young face. Hagrid hadn't the heart to just leave him there, so he closed the door in front of him and sat down on the floor, across the nursery from Harry. The two locked eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, surprisingly, Harry was still standing at the side of the crib, staring at Hagrid, probably to reassure himself that the big man wasn't going to leave him again. He had yawned quite a few times, rubbed his eyes a few times, but he refused to lay down again. It had been a quarter-to-three when Hagrid had brought Harry into the nursery for his nap and he estimated now that at least thirty minutes had gone by. As tired as the boy was, he was stubbornly refusing to give in to nap time now.
As he continued to watch Harry, Hagrid could feel his own eyes growing heavy. Wait a sec'nd! I'm not the one in need of a nap! He struggled to keep his eyes open, but every time he focused them on Harry, the boy gave a rather empathic yawn and it just made Hagrid even more tired. Within a few more minutes, all thought of Harry had drifted from his mind as he surrendered himself to sleep.