Halloween

H

But that's not the way it went.

He realized upon the moment he had arrived that it was a mistake. He could feel the fleeting October in the air; cold but not freezing. The fire-colored leaves, muted in the darkness, whispered, because there is no other word to describe the sound of the wind softly tickling the trees, so that it makes a sound, so slight, like the barely audible whispered prayers of a monk at a temple.

There was an unusual crescent moon, small but very bright, like a little steadily waxing candle. The light was just enough to see by. The clouds were of the pensive kind; if thoughts could be personified that is how they would look. Dark, swirling, constantly moving. Impressive shadowed ships in the sky, drifting by lazily.

The clouds parted for an instant, and the moonlight spilled onto what was supposed to be a house. But Hagrid had never seen anything look less like a house, and more like skeleton. It was the great hulking carcass of something once living, once large, like a dead elephant. The weak light fell through the great emptiness. All that remained were three walls

The only part that seemed to be standing was the kitchen, and the bedrooms. The windows were shattered in both. The wind blew again, and Hagrid felt it lift his hair and beard, and heard it whistle through the hollow house.

He was too stunned to move.

"This is it," he said, his body shaking, no fear, but shock. A hollow feeling he had never felt, hopelessness was now rising through his chest. They were dead inside the house.

They were all dead.

Except Harry.

Hagrid could hear the boy's faint ethereal crying from somewhere within the torn walls. The womb still carrying the child while the rest of the body was destroyed. Hagrid felt a shiver that wasn't a result of the wind. He was afraid, for the first time.

They said the Dark Lord's power had been vanquished. But Hagrid knew he wasn't dead. Evil like that doesn't die... evil like that could still be lurking somewhere, perhaps in the trees. No longer corporeal, but vaporous, amorphous. An otherworldly being. Gone, but not dead. Hagrid glanced behind him, as though he expected Voldemort's face to be poking from around the trunk of the tree. Could Voldemort still be in the house?

He walked up the pathway that led to the house, the flowers still alive, fresh, and the hedges neatly trimmed. The world around the Potters didn't know that they had ceased to exist. The door was gone, just as the wall was. Blasted away. Timber crunched under his feet as he crossed the threshold into the dark living room, beams of feeble moonlight shining on the carpet, covered in pieces of the roof. He saw cracked timber across the leather couches. Something glinted in the dark. Hagrid realized it was the glass from the coffee table, burst into a thousand gleaming shards.

He could hear Harry's cries more loudly now, as he stepped from the mausoleum of the living room into the kitchen...which was still intact, but it would have been better, in Hagrid's opinion, if it was gone too. Signs of life abruptly ended were everywhere. There was a pot on the stove still, dishes in the sink. The apples in the bowl on the table were still fresh and unblemished.

There was something lying on the floor, in front of the sink. Hagrid saw, with a cold sensation running down his back, that it was James. He lay there, unmarred, but unmistakably dead. The moonlight streamed through the broken windows and fell about his face and chest. His face was in an expression of utter surprise, like most victims of Avada Kedavra. The flowered curtains flapped in the breeze. His body was still alive enough, barely dead. Not a bloated rotting thing, but a mocking mannequin of real life.

The wand was still clutched in his hand.

Hagrid's mouth was hanging open in horror. He quickly shut it, and moved from the kitchen down the hall.

The hall was pitch black. He half-expected to stumble across another body lying in here, but to his fortune, the hall was empty. Harry's crying was only down the hall. He looked in the first bedroom. There was no sign of life inside. Just a bed, still made from the morning.

He tentatively pushed open the door with a creak, which revealed another display of death. It was Harry's room indeed, the walls painted like clouds on a blue sky, the carpet soft, toys lying strewn anywhere but the toy box.

Lily, he thought with finality. There she is.

And there she was.

Red hair spilled around her head, her face was twisted in grief, in consternation, lying to the side, her profile only visible. Her wand had rolled out of her hand, and lay just out of her reach. She was strikingly pale in the moonlight, the life simply drained away from her. Dead like James.

There was Harry, in his crib, sitting up, drawn into himself sobbing fearfully. He was sitting amongst the blankets, utterly terrified, and alone.

" 'Arry, come 'ere..." Hagrid lifted him gently out of the crib. Harry must have been glad to see anyone, because he slowly began to stop screaming. Hagrid lifted the little wool blanket out of the crib and wrapped it around him. Harry's sobs still hadn't lessened, but at least he must have known he was safe.

Hagrid walked briskly down the hallway, eyes averted as he entered the kitchen, looking anywhere but at James. He burst through the living room, and ran out into the chilly air, never so glad to be outside in his life. He breathed deeply, considering what to do next. He had Harry, Harry was alive, he wouldn't have to go back into that gruesome... crypt. That was what it was now. A darkened catacomb which held the bodies of the dead.

Had the Potters known Voldemort would be here tonight?

What could they have done?

Hagrid felt tears on his cheeks. He was crying, but over which part of that macabre spectacle he had just endured, he couldn't be sure. Maybe he was crying for Harry, and the jarring look of him sitting alive in the dead house, wondering where his parents were, why no one had responded to his cries, not knowing he had just ended a reign of terror...and saved the world.

Hagrid let out a loud sob, which startled Harry, who began to cry plaintively.

They're dead and he doesn't even know it.

Hagrid wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. Upon Hagrid's stopping, Harry quieted as well, and a ringing silence fell. Hagrid could hear the blood rushing in his ears. It was growling now, a low roaring noise.

But it wasn't blood. It was a sound emanating from somewhere above him, this low rushing roar. It began to grow steadily louder.

Then he saw it. A large flying object, silhouetted against the clouds. It was a motorcycle. The figure's cloak was swirling behind him in the breeze.

It was Sirius Black.

With a rumble and a thud the bike landed in front of Hagrid.

Sirius leapt off the bike with a graceless stumble. He ran to Hagrid, his face stricken and red from the wind. His hair was tangled into a black mop. He reached out with fingerless gloved hands,

"H-Hagrid... let me-" He stopped as he stared over Hagrid's shoulder at the wreckage. His mouth fell open a fraction, and his dark eyes flitted frantically over the ruin. His hands furled and unfurled in a tense fury.

"So that's it, isn't it?" he asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "It's really happened."

"Yeh don' wanna go in there," said Hagrid thickly, shaking his head slowly. "It's 'orrible," he added quietly.

Sirius was silent.

"They're dead?" said Sirius, after a moment of deliberation. "Both of them...James didn't..."

"No," muttered Hagrid. "Dead. Both of 'em."

Sirius bit his lip and swallowed, grim comprehension fighting his optimism. The whole thing had a bleary, oneiric realism to it. It was the rushed realization after a nightmare. This was reality, and it had seeped slowly from the dimension of dreams, crossed the threshold into a living nightmare. This was waking in a coffin, trapped, knowing you had to face the inevitable that this was the end. An unfathomable quagmire of human fatality. They would be dead; Sirius had known. But so soon? He had no idea that when he had left their house hours ago, that he would be here, and Voldemort would be dead. It had happened so fast and sudden. He had never quite grasped the fact that one's head could reel, until this moment. His mind was reeling, and none of it made a bit of sense.

He realized his hand was shaking uncontrollably. He balled it into a fist, fingernails sinking into leather.

"Harry's the only one left," said Sirius, looking at Harry suddenly, as if he hadn't noticed his presence prior to this statement.

"Took 'im outta the nursery. Cryin' for his mum and dad. Don' know how long 'e'd bin there before I came."

Was there anything I could have done? Sirius thought, his eyes blearing with tears. "What if I had never left--James could have gotten Lily and Harry out the back...I could have taken Voldemort-" Hagrid winced, but didn't dare say anything. "...just long enough for them to escape." Tears began to run down Sirius' cheeks slowly. He wiped them away with a careless brush of his hand, then ran his fingers through his hair. "I still can't believe this has happened."

"I don' think there was nothin' anyone... coulda done," said Hagrid gruffly, willing himself not to begin crying again. He patted Sirius on the back roughly, causing him to stumble forward. "Not even Dumbledore, I 'spect. Don' beat yourself up over it, Sirius. When You-Know-Who wants someone gone...there it'nt much that could be done."

Sirius ran a hand over Harry's forehead, and gasped. Harry, who was nonchalantly chewing his finger stared at him.

"Hagrid! Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"This." He lifted back Harry's fine dark hair, revealing a small thin lightening-bolt-shaped mark, apparently still fresh.

"Blimey!" exclaimed Hagrid breathlessly. "That must've bin where You-Know-Who...tried ter curse 'im."

"So it must be true then," said Sirius. "He killed Voldemort."

"Must've. He in'nt 'round here."

"But how could he have not killed him?" said Sirius, his brow wrinkling.

"I think that's what everyone wants ter know. His power broke, they're sayin'."

"Why tonight, though?" Sirius pressed on. "How could they have found them...so..." He paused for a moment, and his eyes glazed over, unfocused. Then they narrowed in a fury. But it was an ephemeral look, gone as quickly as it had come.

This unnerved Hagrid, but he didn't say anything as Sirius nodded resolutely.

"Give Harry to me, Hagrid."

Hagrid was taken aback by this sudden forwardness. "Can' do it, Sirius. Got orders from Dumbledore and all."

"I could take him and raise him," said Sirius slowly. "I want to do that. Hagrid, please."

"No, he's supposed ter go an' live with 'is aunt and uncle. That's what Dumbledore wants. Suppose he has a good reason fer it."

"But that doesn't make sense! They're Muggles, Hagrid. How can Harry go live with Muggles when I'm here to take him?"

"Dumbledore 'has 'is reasons, like I said, Sirius. Now, I can't give him to you." His voice was slow, and patient, but firm.

"But I'm his godfather!" yelled Sirius, trying vainly to elucidate the point. Harry began to cry.

Hagrid began to sing softly to Harry.

"At least let me hold him," said Sirius quietly. "Just let me hold him before he leaves."

Hagrid stopped singing, and looked torn for a moment, wondering whether Sirius would grab Harry and make for his bike. Somewhat reluctantly he handed a wailing Harry to Sirius.

Sirius' hard expression softened the moment Harry was in his arms.

"Hey, Harry... it's me, it's just me...oh..." Sirius swayed slowly back and forth with Harry's little head resting on his shoulder, whispering comforting words to the child. Harry's sobs began to quiet. "That's right, little man, don't cry."

He stood there for few moments, holding Harry tightly. Hagrid couldn't even bear to part them. He closed his eyes, and tried not to focus on the situation.

"I gotta take him, Sirius. Dumbledore'll be waitin'."

Sirius closed his eyes and sighed. "Well, if you won't let me have him, please...take my bike. It's the least I can do." He gave Harry a kiss on the head, and handed him quickly back to Hagrid, because if he didn't do it quickly, he supposed he never would.

"Your bike?"

"Yes, I want to do everything I can. Take it, Hagrid. I won't take no for an answer."

Hagrid eyed Sirius warily. The wind had returned. It blew lightly at Sirius' hair, lifting only the tiniest stray hairs, and drying what was left of his tears.

"But don' you need it?" Hagrid asked curiously.

"No. I won't anymore. Not after tonight."

And before Hagrid could say anymore, Sirius had Disapparated.