For Every Action...

Erwin Dyer sat facing the fireplace, a worn leather armchair cradling his stooped and elderly frame. Waiting. Erwin had grown accustomed to waiting for things; most recently, he'd waited to know why he had been chosen to watch out for the empty house on his right. He'd waited to know what it all meant, and waited as he helplessly watched a young mother die, her house in ruins. Now, he waited for a seven-foot man to destroy his fireplace.

Erwin had never really known why Albus had suggested this house in Godric's Hollow. The omniscient wizard had approached Erwin during his retirement party. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had convinced him with well-thought-out reasons: It was a stable home in the wizarding part of the town, and would allow him relaxation after a hectic career at the Goblin Liaison office. Albus always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone, but tonight Erwin had learned the fallacy of that belief. His plan failed Erwin's neighbors, and stripped many of the ideal that Dumbledore could protect them from anything.

The repetition of his thoughts formed a question-filled lullaby, and his eyelids grew heavy. Sleepless paranoia must have allowed his eyes to droop at the most inopportune moment, and the results had been disatrous. His guilty thoughts were jarred as the stone frame of his fireplace cracked and Hagrid fell violently to the floor. The smooth mantle was now cracked in multiple places. Hagrid turned to inspect the damage in his wake and gave Erwin a sheepish grin.

"Oh, er, sorry 'bout that."

Erwin muttered a quick "Reparo!" under his breath, waving his wand in a wide arc to accommodate the destruction.

"See Hagrid? Easily mended." Unfortunately, there were some things magic could not repair. Any hints of a smile, sheepish or otherwise, had ceased to exist on either man's face. "Terrible times, Hagrid," soothed Erwin, patting the towering man's elbow in substitution for the shoulder he couldn't reach. A great sob erupted from within Hagrid's barrel chest.

"Shall we be goin' ter see the Potters', then?" came a strangled cry. Hagrid knelt low to clear the threshold. Preparing to follow in the footsteps of a man Erwin could now only see from mid-torso and below, he heard the roaring rush of flames from a recently repaired fireplace.

"Hagrid, don't wait for me, there's someone on Floo. Be careful!" Hagrid acknowledged the delay and struggled down narrow stairs sideways. Emerging from Erwin's front door, he began the walk that would lead to what he feared would be a hole in place of a home. He followed a path of his own discretion to a place where smoke twined with golden leaves under a silvery moon. Sighing with resignation, he ventured onward. Slowly, the remnants of the house came into view.

Pieces if its frame were still intact, but almost all of the wood siding had been torn away, leaving the partially exposed skeleton half buried in rubble. Hagrid's broad shoulders shook unsteadily upon his discovery, but he had to continue for Professor Dumbledore. Tenderly, as much as one half-giant overcome with grief can, he picked his way through the charred remains of the Potters' home. He fervently hoped the charms protected him from falling debris as well as magic.

The door had been blown off its hinges, although the frame was still intact. Not wanting to cause the house further damage, he opted to enter through a large hole in the wall. How Dumbledore thought any human could survive this destruction was a mystery in a night already thick with them. Stepping aside, he was taken aback at the condition of the house. Cooking utensils and dinnerware littered the entryway and the dining-room table jaggedly split through a wall. He was startled when he saw an entire area, albeit a very small area, almost untouched. A rocker sat in a far corner of the house underneath a framed picture of the family. The intensity of the explosion forced it onto its side, but neither item was singed enough to cause significant damage. Soon he found that this was not the only area of the house calmer than its surroundings.

What appeared to be an upstairs bedroom had now settled precariously in the center of the Potters' living room. The decor was so violently intermixed that neither room was easy to distinguish from the other. The main indication of a bedroom was a crib, looking almost as if there hadn't been an explosion at all. Hagrid shuddered as he glimpsed a human foot. This was it. Time to account for the bodies.

Moving gently towards the foot, Hagrid began to see its twin and the limbs that were connected. He could only see up to the knee from his vantage point, but they laid protectively close the crib. Knowing the face that would greet him, he moved closer, dodging the crib. There, illuminated by the silvery beams of a full moon, was Lily, green eyes glazed over in the wake of death. Pale skin, now rendered translucent, was surprisingly unmarred in the midst of such violence. Her red hair half covered a face contorted in fear, but something resilient remained. Before his hands began to shake with sadness, Hagrid gently closed her eyes. The lids were cold, stiffened by the chill of the night. Hagrid wanted to lie down and cry at that instant, but had to find James. He knew Lily wouldn't have survived an attack by Voldemort, for she was a Muggle-born, not even worthy of life to the Dark wizard. If Dumbledore sought survivors of this tragedy, it would surely be James. He was noble; he would fight to the end, if that was what it had come to. He searched the house with eyes fogged by tears, but couldn't find the young man. Maybe he got away, thought Hagrid. But, no, he couldn't have. James would never run if Lily and Harry remained.

Hagrid hung his head and returned to the crib. He dreaded having to close the lids of a child, a baby not yet old enough to fend for himself. He closed his misty black eyes and prepared himself for the body of a baby, still in death. Grudgingly, he lowered his head and fully opened his eyes. A string of curses arrived on the back of Hagrid's tongue, but he choked them back. His awe was so profound that he dropped to his knees, still taking in his discovery with his mouth agape.

Harry Potter was asleep on his back, and could have been dead were it not for his chest, which was steadily rising and falling. If Harry was breathing, he was alive! Hagrid reached down to feel beneath his callused hands the discernible sign of life. Harry stirred at Hagrid's touch, and opened striking green eyes, the same color and shape as the ones Hagrid had so recently seen frozen in death. Again, Hagrid's stomach plummeted as he focused on a point just above the boy's eyes, right in the center of his forehead.

A lightning-bolt shaped laceration emanated red blood. Rusty stains on his tiny knuckles evidenced the pain it had caused the child. Hagrid could not understand why a wizard corrupt as Voldemort would kill Lily and James, yet let their son survive with a mysterious wound. Perhaps that question would be answered when they understood the absence of the great Dark wizard that had left countless babies dead in his path. Harry was surely lucky, but the sparing of his life could not have been an accident. Innocent children do not repel feared wizards. Harry reached upward to rub his wound and spoke.

"Mama." Hagrid fell backwards in shock and scarcely avoided destroying a fragile wall. He couldn't bear to face the toddler, but came back into the little boy's view after his cries bore heavily on Hagrid's soul. He felt so helpless, unable and unwilling to communicate that Harry's mother couldn't hold him ever again, not that he could understand it.

"Oh, Harry," he whispered. "We've all done yeh wrong tonight." Harry chewed on a balled fist and took in Hagrid's face. Knowing he had to return Harry even if unable to find James, he leaned into the crib and easily lifted the baby. Harry made a face as he touched Hagrid's coarse beard, but gave a faint giggle and tugged a handful of hair. Hagrid did not feel the pricks of pain. He cradled Harry, such a light load, yet the most important one Hagrid remembered carrying.

He prepared to exit the house, but paused as he heard maniacal shouts from just outside the weakened walls.

"Who the bloody hell is there?"

Hagrid couldn't fathom Erwin having such an uncontrolled reaction, and could not identify the foreign voice's owner. The sound of human weight over fallen wood beams and plaster was coming from the doorway. Warily, Hagrid peered around the corner. Startled at the presence of a disheveled man within the entryway, he cursed, but the man was unaware of Hagrid's entrance.

"James!" the new man cried. "James! What have I done?" He was lifting a heavy support beam off the ground, causing himself harm in the process. After much strain, he cleared the weight and began to shovel broken bits of wall away with his bloody hands. Finally, another man was uncovered. James had waited within the tomb of his own house before this man discovered him. The man knelt and cradled James' head in his own lap. "James, I'll never forgive myself. I've killed you, Lily, Harry- James, look what I've done to my own godson! We thought we were so clever, but look at what it's done!"

It finally dawned on Hagrid that this man, sobbing inconsolably in the midst of such destruction, was none other than Sirius Black. His one-way conversation with James gave Hagrid the impression that he was admitting to giving the Potters' location away, as much as he, Hagrid, refused to believe it. "I'll never forgive myself, Prongs, not for as long as I live...." Sirius' last sentence was spoken with such softness that Hagrid wasn't quite certain he had heard it right. He told himself Prongs must have been a nickname James had earned in life, and was now called even in death.

Hagrid wasn't quite sure what to do. His eyes again felt the sharp sting of tears at the dire situation. Such a large part of Hagrid wanted to believe that Sirius was innocent, that his sorrow was truly because his brother had perished with such thoughtlessness. These tears were true, and Hagrid felt the weight of hopeless lamentations tugging within his chest. And yet, a musing began to manifest his feelings of pity with increasing suspicion. Doubt tainted what had once been faith, and Hagrid detested the person that could allow a child to be orphaned.

Narrowing his eyes, he took a step towards the oblivious Sirius and held Harry tighter. Hagrid was about to speak when Harry did so first. "Paffoo," he cried, flailing his arms. Sirius looked up with a start. Hagrid saw that his eyes were inflamed and bloodshot from his long cry, and with those eyes he gazed up at Harry with pity. Sirius opened his mouth to speak but couldn't, jaw flapping as he took in the open wound on his godson's forehead. Taking great care, he lowered the cold body of James Potter to the floor and labored over debris to reach the duo.

For the first time that night Sirius acknowledged Hagrid, yet only with a glance. When he spoke to the man, he did so with his eyes trained on Harry.

"Hagrid, you must give him to me. He's my godson, James and Lily expect..." he paused to realize his flaw in tense, "expected me to take care of him if something happened. Lily, she- she didn't make it, did she?" he asked, knowing Hagrid's answer. Hagrid shook his head with a defeated sigh. "Then it is my duty to take Harry now." Sirius reached up take Harry, but Hagrid pulled away, refusing to surrender his charge.

"Hagrid, this isn't for you to decide! You can't take Harry, it's my job. I have to take care of him! I've done enough tonight, I'm not about to give my godson up to you, you're not even a wizard!" Sirius' words were pleading, and his disrespect toward Hagrid very thinly masked his anger and loss.

Hagrid winced at the insult and began to open a dam of tears, but replaced his pain with anger. "Professor Dumbledore told me ter find the survivors, Sirius Black. I'm bringin' this lad back ter him, and yeh ain't goin' ter stop me!" Now both men were red-faced and fully prepared to fight if it wasn't for the presence of Harry. He pacified the situation just enough to prevent physical harm to either man. "Professor Dumbledore said not to talk ter no one, and that means you. Even if I was to give yeh Harry, yeh seem right guilty to me. If yer the one that did this, I'll-"

"Hagrid, how could I have done this?" Sirius's arms waved wildly around above his head, indicating the devastation. "He was my best friend, Hagrid, and Lily was practically a sister! You think I did this?"

"I heard what yeh said before, 'bout this bein' yer fault. How else d'yeh want to explain this?"

"Hagrid, you're being unreasonable. I have no other choice, but I'm not sorry." He drew his wand. "Stupefy!" A thin red jet of light sped in Hagrid's direction, but surprisingly halted and rebounded in a mass of sparkling gold stars.

"Bloody hell," they said in unison. Hagrid seemed particularly amazed at the reaction, eyes following the sparkling shower as it radiated around him. Sirius knew a chance when he saw one and lunged.