Hagrid gently rocked in the wooden chair by the fireplace, his large hands curled around the tiny bundle in his arms. Elara, now somewhere over a year old, gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes, her short blonde curls bouncing with every inquisitive tilt of her head. The warmth of the hearth crackled softly, filling the small, modest hut where they had spent so many quiet months together. The room smelled of fresh pine and the faint sweetness of the wildflowers Hagrid had picked earlier in the day, arranging them clumsily in a jar. He'd done it for her, though she was far too young to notice such things.

"Yer a good one, aren't yeh?" Hagrid murmured with a fond smile, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. "Bright as a daisy, you are. Just like yer mum and dad, I reckon."

The little girl let out a soft giggle, her hands clutching the edge of his patched coat in her small hand. She babbled nonsensically, her voice a melody that had become the background of Hagrid's days and the comfort of his nights.

"Yer quite the chatterbox today, eh?" Hagrid rumbled, his voice warm, though it held an undercurrent of sorrow. He brushed a finger gently against her cheek, marveling again at how someone so small could hold so much of his heart. Yet Hagrid had known from the moment Dumbledore had left her in his care that she was different—special, in ways that no one could have foreseen.

She responded with another delighted giggle, reaching for the small wooden figurine he'd carved—a simple bear with lopsided ears. Hagrid handed it to her, watching as she turned it over in her hands with wide-eyed wonder. "Made that for ye. Bit rough 'round the edges, like meself, but it's yours."

She didn't understand, of course. She was too young to grasp most words, but that didn't stop Hagrid from talking to her as if she could. He needed to say these things aloud, even if they were more for himself than for her. She clutched the wooden bear to her chest fondly and for a moment Hagrid wondered if she understood more than he thought.

"Dumbledore'll be here soon," he said quietly, his throat tightening as he spoke the words. He glanced toward the door, where the casted shadows of the setting sun marked the passage of time. "He's got a family for ye. A good one. You'll be safe there, Elara. Safer than I can make ya."

She wriggled in his lap, her little legs kicking as she pressed the bear to her cheek. She had no idea what was coming. No idea that this was their last evening together, that the man she trusted so completely was about to hand her to strangers.

Dumbledore had finally found a family, one that could keep her safe. A family who would protect her and make sure she never knew the dangers of the magical world—of Voldemort, of the Order, of the prophecy that hung over her head like a stormcloud. She would never know, becausetheywould never know.

Hagrid swallowed hard, his free hand clutching the armrest of his chair. How was he supposed to let her go? She was his family now, the closest thing he'd ever had to a child of his own.

But the hardest part, the one Hagrid hadn't anticipated, was the empty hole it would leave in his had cared for Elara a full year now, much longer than he or Dumbledore had planned. He'd grown so attached to this little girl. She was his. He'd kept her safe, tucked away from harm. He was the one who had sung her lullabies when she cried, who had held her close when the nights were long and dark. He was the one who'd heard her first words, who'd watched her take her first steps in the clearing behind his hut, the one who'd helped her discover the world, one tiny hand at a time.

Now, all of that was about to end.

Hagrid looked down at her, the familiar feeling of his love for her pressing down on his chest. "Don't you worry none," he said quietly, as if speaking to himself as much as to Elara. "Yer safe now. And when yer older, ye'll understand. I promise."

A knock at the door made him freeze. Elara blinked up at him, her big eyes reflecting the firelight. She tilted her head, as if sensing the change in him and her face crinkled with curiosity. Hagrid knew it was time. Dumbledore was here, and he had to let her go.

The door creaked open, and there was the familiar gleam of Dumbledore's spectacles in the light. He smiled kindly at Hagrid, but his eyes were sad, full of knowing.

"Ready, Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked, his voice calm and gentle, though it too held an undercurrent of sorrow.

Hagrid looked down at Elara, who was now playing with the bear, utterly unaware of the weight of the moment. A lump formed in Hagrid's throat as he struggled to keep his composure.

"Yeah," he replied hoarsely. "I s'pose it's time."

Dumbledore stepped forward, and Hagrid stood up slowly, as though moving in slow motion. He held Elara close, feeling the warmth of her tiny body in his arms. He could hardly bear the thought of what he was about to do.

"Elara," he said, his voice cracking slightly. She looked up at him, her big blue-green eyes wide with trust and innocence. "Yer gonna go with this man now. He's gonna take real good care of you, you hear?"

"Elara," Dumbledore repeated thoughtfully. "It's a beautiful name, Hagrid."

Her small hand reached for Hagrid's cheek, her touch warm and soft. "I'll be right here, always," he promised, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more—her or himself. He glanced out the window, where the forest stretched endlessly. The same forest that had protected her as such a small baby."Yer strong," he murmured, his voice a thick whisper. "Stronger than you'll ever know. Don't matter where you go or who looks after ya. You've got somethin' in here—" He tapped her tiny chest gently. "Somethin' that'll carry ya through, no matter what."

But the words didn't help the ache in his chest. The fear, the sadness, the uncertainty of whether she would remember him, or if she'd even want to.

"I've watched over you," Hagrid continued, struggling to hold back his tears. "But now it's time for you to be safe... time to be with other folks who can look after you, 'cause I can't always keep you safe like I want to."

Dumbledore stepped forward again, "Hagrid," he said gently, placing a hand on the half-giant's shoulder. "You've given her so much. She'll carry that with her always."

Hagrid nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak. He looked down at Elara, who had started playing with the buttons on his coat, oblivious to the heaviness of moment. Looking up at him, the child didn't cry, but her eyes seemed to search his face, as though sensing something she couldn't quite understand. She reached her little arms out, but Hagrid couldn't bear to hold her any longer.

"Right, then," he finally managed, his voice cracking. He shifted her in his arms, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. "Be good, little one. Be happy. And don't forget ol' Hagrid, yeah?" He swallowed thickly.

He kissed the top of her head, the gesture as tender as it was heartbreaking. Then, with trembling hands, he passed her to Dumbledore,every movement feeling like a betrayal.

Elara squirmed, her tiny arms reaching instinctively back toward him."Papa?"she cooed softly, her voice so tiny, and yet it pierced him like a thousand needles.

Hagrid froze, his breath hitching in his chest. He hadn't taught her to call him that. She must have heard it somewhere, pieced it together from his stories, from the way he held her. But hearing it now, in this moment, nearly undid him as he realized that would be her last word to him before parting.

He turned away quickly, his broad shoulders trembling as he fought to hold himself together. Dumbledore's gaze lingered on him for a moment before waving his wand over Elara, guiding her into a restful sleep, her bear still wrapped close to her chest.

"Elara," Dumbledore muttered again, "A name to remember."

Hagrid stood in the doorway, watching until they disappeared down the path. Only then did he let the tears fall, silent and unrelenting, as the hut grew unbearably quiet around him. He clutched her mask in his pocket.

"I'll never forget ya, my daisy," Hagrid whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Not ever."

July 30th, 1980.

Hagrid pulled his oversized coat tighter around him as he trudged through the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. The early evening air was cool, carrying a breeze that ruffled his tangled hands fidgeted with the brim of his hat, pulling it off and then shoving it back on again. His heart felt like a caged dragon, thrashing and roaring in his chest, a mixture of both excitement and dread. Ten years. Ten long years since he'd last held the tiny girl in his arms, since he'd whispered promises he wasn't sure he could keep.

He paused under a streetlamp, wiping his sweaty palms on his coat."She won't remember me," he muttered to himself, though his voice cracked on the words. "How could she? She was just a baby. Too little to know what was happenin'... too little to understand."

But still, Hagrid couldn't help the flutter deep in his chest.. Could she have remembered? Even just a flicker of something—a feeling, a memory buried deep in her heart? Maybe...just maybe there'd be some spark of recognition. A smile, a glimmer in her eye that said,I know shook his head, scolding himself for the hope that clung stubbornly to his thoughts.

He patted the envelope tucked into his pocket, her Hogwarts letter. It felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of the years they'd been apart. He'd delivered hundreds of these over the years, but none had ever felt as momentous as this one. He had rehearsed his introduction endlessly on the journey here, practicing in his gruff voice, but now, as the moment drew near, his words jumbled together in his mind."Elara, it's me, Hagrid. I knew yeh when yeh were just a baby."Every time he tried to picture her face—her reaction—it came up blank. Would she be happy to see him? Frightened? Would she even believe a word he said about her true heritage? What would she even look like?

Merlin,he would never forget her hair, the way her soft curls felt beneath his thumb, nor those eyes, the way they held the forest within them. But so many years had passed. He'd never forgive himself if he couldn't recognize her.

As he trudged along the cobblestone path, the final block came into view. The homes were tidy and uniform, each with neatly trimmed hedges and painted doors. He hesitated, standing under a flickering streetlamp, and he fumbled for the piece of parchment he'd scrawled her address on.

"Number 17," he muttered, squinting down the row of houses. His eyes landed on the little house tucked at the end of the street. Something about it felt... off. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

The windows were dark, but there was a faint flickering glow coming from inside. At first, he thought it was candlelight, but as he took another step closer, the glow grew brighter, dancing against the glass. A sharp smell wafted through the air, prickling his nose.
Smoke.

Smoke.

Hagrid froze.

"Wait—no," he whispered, his stomach twisting violently. The glow wasn't coming from inside the house. It was fromthe house itself.

The realization struck him like lightning and his heart followed in thunderclaps. His boots thudded against the pavement as he broke into a sprint, panic searing through his veins. "ELARA!" he bellowed, his voice echoing down the empty street.

The flames came into full view as he neared the house. They hungrily climbed the walls, licking at the roof and dancing wildly into the darkening sky. The heat was oppressive, even from several feet away. Without a second thought, Hagrid barreled through the gate, the wooden slats splintering under his weight. He charged toward the front door, which was already hanging ajar, engulfed in flames.

His heart pounded as he forced his way inside, the heat and smoke were suffocating, but Hagrid pushed forward, his eyes darting wildly around the room. "ELARA!" he roared again, his voice cracking with desperation. The sound was nearly drowned out by the crackle and roar of the fire. He coughed, squinting through the haze.

Then, a faint sound of someone gasping and coughing caught his attention. Hagrid stilled for a split second, his heart nearly stopping. Then he bolted toward the sound, ducking through a collapsing doorway. In the corner of the room, huddled under a table, was a small girl. Her face was streaked with soot and tears, as she lay barely conscious.

His heart twisted, a painful mixture of relief and despair, battling within him as he forced himself forward. "Hold on, I'm comin'!" Hagrid choked out, his voice trembling under the weight of the situation. Each step was a struggle, his massive form navigating through the smoldering wreckage as panic clawed at him. The acrid smoke burned his lungs, and the heat licked at his skin, but none of it mattered. His only thought was reaching her—saving her.

Then, as he rounded a section of crumbling wall, his gaze fell upon a sight that froze him in place. Just a few feet in front of her small, trembling form lay a man and a woman. They were still, unnaturally so, their bodies pinned beneath a collapsed section of the roof. The charred edges of their clothing seemed to meld with the ash-covered floor, and their faces—devoid of life—seemed frozen in a final moment of terror.

Her adoptive parents.
A sickening wave of realization crashed over him, knocking the air from his chest as if he'd been hit by a bludger.
They're gone.
The words echoed in his mind, a cruel, relentless refrain. His knees buckled slightly, and he grasped at the nearby rubble to steady himself. A raw, guttural sound escaped him—half-sob, half-roar—as he struggled to process what lay before him.

He'd seen death before, too much of it in his time, but this was different. These were the people he had entrusted her to. The people Dumbledore promised would keep her safe. The guilt was unbearable, wrapping so tightly around his chest he could hardly breathe. How had it come to this? What could have gone so wrong?

Tears blurred his vision as he forced himself to look away from them, to focus on the tiny figure lying motionless just beyond the reach of the flames. His Elara. She was alive. Somehow, against all odds, she was alive. Relief surged through him, but it was a jagged, painful kind of relief, one laced with the knowledge that she would wake to a world where her parents were no longer in it.
Both sets of parents. She was orphaned yetagain.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words catching in his throat. His voice was barely audible over the crackling of the fire, but the weight of them bore down on him nonetheless. "I should've been here. I should've done more."

The smoke seemed to sting more sharply now, as if punishing him for his failure. But there was no time to linger in his grief. She needed him. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, he pushed forward, his massive hands reaching for her as the flames roared around them.

He scooped her up into his arms, holding her against his chest as though she were the most precious thing in the world. "It's all right, I've got yeh," he murmured, shielding her with his massive coat as he turned and bolted for the door.

The house groaned and shuddered, beams collapsing and sending showers of sparks raining down around them. Hagrid ducked his head, covering Elara with his body as he pushed through the debris.

They burst into the cool night air just as the remaining roof collapsed behind them in a shower of smoldering embers. Hagrid stumbled to his knees, still clutching Elara tightly to his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, but all he cared about was the small, trembling figure in his arms.

"It's all right now, Elara," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Yer safe. I've got yeh. I'll always have yeh."

Cradled in his arms, she looked up at him, her soot-streaked face etched with confusion. Her small brows furrowed, her lips parting as though she were searching for something just out of reach. And then, in her wide, shimmering eyes, he saw it—a flicker of recognition. A spark of something long buried but not fully forgotten.

Hagrid froze. The world around him seemed to still, the roar of the flames fading into a dull hum. As her gaze locked with his, time unraveled, pulling him backward in a wave of memory so vivid he could've sworn he was living it all over again:

He was there, in the Forbidden Forest, the damp moss soft beneath his boots. He could feel the weight of her tiny form as he lifted her for the first time, her warmth against his chest. He could hear the rustling of the creatures watching from the shadows, the low hum of the forest as though it were breathing along with them. And then, the moment—the mask slipping away, revealing those eyes.

Those eyes. Eyes that held the pulse of the forest itself, as if the very magic of the earth had taken root within her. The same eyes that now looked up at him, wide and full of a fragile, trembling recognition.

"Elara," he whispered, his voice breaking, the name barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

She blinked slowly, her tiny body trembling in his arms, and then, just as her eyes began to flutter closed into unconsciousness, her lips formed a single word.

"Papa?"

The sound shattered him. It hit like a spell, piercing through years of doubt and distance, wrapping around his heart and squeezing until he thought it might break. For a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't .The last word she spoke to him, and now, the first. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he clutched her tighter.

She remembers me,he thought, the words echoing like a prayer.

His gaze darted down, and there it was. The small wooden bear he had carved all those years ago, tied to her wrist with a singed ribbon. It was battered but intact, a fragile link to the past they shared. The simple sight of it undid him completely.

A sob tore from his chest, raw and unrestrained, as he buried his face in her hair, rocking her gently. The smoke swirled around them, the fire's heat pressing against his back, but none of it mattered. Not now.

"Oh, my daisy," he choked out, his voice trembling. "It's me. I'm here."

He smoothed her tangled hair with a shaking hand, his thumb brushing away the streaks of soot on her cheek. "I'll never leave yeh again. Never," he vowed, his voice breaking on the promise.

As the flames roared behind them, consuming the last remnants of the life she had known, Hagrid held her close, shielding her from the world that had already taken too much from her. His heart continued to break as regret loomed over him. He had let her go all those years ago, a sacrifice he bore knowing she would be safe. She wassupposedto besafe,not this. Not this horrific scene he had stumbled upon. He didn't know what or who had done this, or why it had happened, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the child in his arms.

"Elara," he whispered again, his tears falling freely now. "Yer safe now. Yer safe with me."