It was a dark, cold Halloween night. Dark clouds were gathering in the sky and a ghostly grey mist blanketed the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest stood a small stone cabin, home to Hogwarts’s gatekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. A lone candle shimmered inside the cabin, burning steadily. Hagrid stared into it from the shadows while awaiting word from his master. His orders were simple: once he received word that the Potters were dead, he was to strike down the great Albus Dumbledore and help his master take over the school.

Hagrid was a patient and simple fellow. He had spent the last decades waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike back at Dumbledore, gaining his trust while undermining his plans. Revenge was the only thing that kept him sane. Revenge for that fateful day when they wrongly accused him of opening the Chamber of Secrets.

Dumbledore knew who opened it, but did nothing.

He did nothing to defend Hagrid, robbing him of his education. He watched as they snapped his wand.

He watched as they banished him from Hogwarts and spread lies in that newspaper of theirs.

For years Hagrid survived on mere scraps as nobody would hire him. He was shunned everywhere he went, and eventually he took refuge in the Forbidden Forest, in the solace of his only true friend: Aragog. It was there where his master had found him one day and gave him a new chance.

A chance to live.

A chance for revenge.

He was taught in the way of the Dark Arts and other obscure magic he could only dream of while in Hogwarts, for his master owned an enormous collection of rare books and illegal artifacts.

Slowly, but surely, Rubeus Hagrid regained his health and grew to become one of the most powerful and trusted members of his master’s inner circle. Few knew of his allegiance, fewer still knew about his extensive relationship with his true master.

Not even Severus Snape, the supposed spy in Dumbledore’s ranks, knew anything about Hagrid.

But Hagrid knew. He knew where that despicable man’s true loyalties lay and wasted no time in informing his master. It was thanks to Hagrid that false information was being fed to the order, and it was thanks to him that they knew Snape was not to be trusted. The man would pay dearly, but for now, he had his uses, and his master had allowed him to play pretend.

And so, Hagrid waited patiently, for he knew his master would prevail. Indeed, it wasn’t very long before he heard the crunching of gravel outside his hut.

With a pinch of his fingers, Hagrid extinguished the candle, plunging the cabin into complete darkness, and carefully peered out his window. A figure was fast approaching, but he could not make out who it was through the thick fog. Instead, he reloaded his heavy crossbow and waited next to the door.

A series of loud knocks reverberated on his door. Whoever was outside, they were in a hurry.

Hagrid slowly opened the door, just about revealing his face. He was expecting one of his master’s servants but it never hurt to be careful.

“Good evening Hagrid, apologies for my late intrusion, but this is urgent.”

It was the old fool, Dumbledore.

Hagrid’s grip tightened on his crossbow, and he was a hair width away from shooting the man.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir!” he exclaimed loudly instead, expertly slipping back into his friendly giant persona. “Wha’ can I do for ye?”

“There’s been a terrible incident.” Dumbledore shook his head. “The Potters… they’ve just been attacked.”

Hagrid tensed.

“Are they —”

“Their son lives.” Dumbledore interrupted. “It’s why I’m here my dear friend. There isn’t much time so answers will have to come later I’m afraid. Right now, I need you to pick up the boy from Godric’s Hollow and bring him to his blood relatives at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging where I’ll be waiting.”

Hagrid’s eyes widened in shock. This couldn’t be happening. His master couldn’t be dead. The bloodtraitor Potter and his mudblood wife couldn’t have destroyed him. Dumbledore had to be lying.

“James an’ Lily, are they…” Hagrid began, fighting back his tears.

“I do not know what happened them, but the wards fell and there has been a great magical explosion at the property. It’s only a matter of time before the muggles or the ministry gets wind of it.”

“What about You Know Who, sir?”

“Alas, I do not know that either.” Dumbledore sighed. “However, you must go now.” Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny golden watch. “This portkey will take you there. Sirius will no doubt be arriving soon, if he is not there already. It is imperative that you do not let him get the boy, no matter what. Do whatever is necessary.”

“I won’t fail you, sir.”

He took one last look around the grounds and the forest, hoping that his master or one of his servants would appear. Only when it became painfully clear that it would not happen, did he reluctantly take the pocket watch. As soon as his fingers made contact with it, he disappeared with a loud pop.

Only to immediately reappear in Godric’s Hollow, some six hundred miles away to the south in the west country. The stench of burning wood and magical residue immediately assaulted his nose. Before him stood the remains of a large burnt-out cottage that belonged to the Potters. Sickly green flames danced across its roof, or at least what remained of it, burning ever strongly. A fierce fight must have taken place here. Hagrid took out his pink umbrella, which served as a powerful wand; a gift from his master, since he wasn’t legally allowed to own a wand. The front door of the cottage was blown open, barely hanging on its hinges. Inside the main hall at the bottom of the stairs, lay the lifeless corpse of James Potter. The pathetic worm didn’t even have a wand on him.

Hagrid snorted in disgust and stepped over him, carefully moving up the stairs. With each step he took, the floors of the house shuddered ever more, straining under his weight. Small flames burned freely around him, but he ignored them. Even if the house collapsed on him, he was confident that he could hold down the rubble. A baby’s faint cry echoed across the otherwise silent house and Hagrid hurriedly entered into the bedroom.

Inside was a mess. The roof and half the walls were missing and all the furniture lay broken and splintered across the room. Everything was destroyed beyond repair. Everything except the crib holding the baby that remained in pristine condition.

A powerful explosion must have torn through the room. But how? What happened? A set of burnt robes lay on the floor in front of the crib and Hagrid’s eyes went wide.

They were his master’s!

He scrambled to pick them up, relieved that there was no body underneath… Not even a pile of ashes on the floor.

What dark magic could have done this? Hagrid wondered when he felt something sharp jab at his ribs.

His master’s wand!

He quickly pocketed it and turned to the baby boy in the crib. There was no time to dwell on any of this. He was on a mission.

“So, you are the reason for my master’s downfall.” Hagrid said to the boy, his voice becoming dark. “You are lucky I’m not going to kill you right here and now, but you will get what you deserve just like the rest of your pathetic family.”

The little boy eyed him curiously with his ruby green eyes. There, on the boy’s forehead, was a strange mark, shaped like a lightning bolt. Hagrid had never seen anything like it before but knew that it had to be curse scar, it had to be. He carefully touched it and felt dark magic oozing out from it straight away. It was then that the boy began to wail and wave his hands around violently.

Hagrid snorted, yanking the crying baby out of the crib and quickly made his way out of the ruined cottage. He was relieved when he stepped out with the boy, unscathed. He stopped to take a breath and gather his thoughts when he heard a distant rumbling sound. It was like a muggle car or motorbike. It sounded like as if it was coming from above. Indeed, up in the sky, a huge yellow motorcycle was now flying towards him. It descended with a loud roar amidst a puff of smoke in the middle of the garden.

A man quickly leapt out from behind the wheels, not even bothering to shut the engine off. Hagrid gripped his umbrella with one hand, ready to defend himself if necessary.

“Hagrid!” It was none other than Sirius Black, and he looked livid. He was in his pajamas and his eyes were darting back and forth between Hagrid and the burning house behind them.

“Black.” Hagrid spat, taking a step back.

“What happened? Lily and James, are they —?”

“Dead.” Hagrid in an emotionless voice.

“No! It can’t be. It just —” Sirius ran past Hagrid towards the house, only to stop just before the door.

“Harry...” Sirius whispered, turning around. “You have him. Quickly, give him here.” Sirius urged.

“No.” Hagrid said coldly.

“What do you mean no? We have to get him out of here, it’s not safe!” Sirius yelled, advancing on the half giant.

“I said no, Black. Dumbledore told me to get him. He’s my responsibility!” Hagrid puffed himself in an attempt to look more menacing. Sirius was beyond caring at this point.

“Like hell he is! I’m his godfather!”

Sirius was now inches away from Hagrid and little Harry, who was being held tightly between Hagrid’s large arms.

“I’m warning ye Black, step away from me. Dumbledore gets the boy. Now, where’s the rat?” Hagrid snapped.

“The rat? How do you — " Sirius began, but Hagrid wasn’t having any of it.

“Just answer the question!” he roared. “Where is Pettigrew?!”

Sirius’s eyes went wide at the mention of Pettigrew. Sensing that something was wrong, he reached for his wand. It all happened in a flash; Sirius stood no chance against the better prepared giant who already had him at wand point.

“Imperio!” Hagrid yelled.

Sirius’s eyes became dazed as his mind became foggy and he soon lost what little concentration he might have had. Hagrid smiled to himself.

That cowardly Pettigrew was probably still hiding around here somewhere. He was responsible for the downfall of their master.

“Find Pettigrew and kill him for betraying the Potters. When he is dead, you are to give yourself up to the ministry. You will also not remember any of this, only that you lent me your bike to deliver the boy.” Hagrid relayed his new orders to Sirius.

They locked eyes for a moment, and Hagrid wondered if he was strong enough to resist the Imperius. The Blacks were supposedly very powerful and well trained in the Dark Arts.

But Sirius wasn’t.

Hagrid watched in delight as Sirius simply ran past him and disappeared down the dark street, yelling frantically for Peter Pettigrew.

Wasting no time in taking Sirius’s motorbike for himself, Hagrid quickly flew off with it, just as the muggle police and firetrucks descended on the ruined property. Did Dumbledore expect this confrontation with Sirius? Hagrid wouldn’t put it past the manipulative old coot who seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone. After all, how was he to deliver the baby to the outskirts of London? The portkey he was given only worked one way, and Dumbledore did not know that he could apparate.

Deep down, Hagrid knew that his master was still alive, even if he himself not marked like the others. The horcruxes made sure that his soul would be anchored to this world forever. It was just going to be a matter of time until his return. Until then, he would lie low, bide his time and continue working for Dumbledore, just as Lord Voldemort would have wanted him to.

​

Note: Hagrid does not know that Voldemort is Tom Riddle.

Inspired by https://docs.google.com/document/d/1j1ywvDj7H_Geoo0M-NThPf8BUuoGm8q2mC1_CDHOjys/edit