A/N: Inspired by this, another short piece concerning the events at Godric's Hollow.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hagrid, and all their associates are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow.
Amid the Wreckage
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"Merlin help 'em," Hagrid groaned, averting his eyes from the terrible sights that lay sprawled among the debris of the little house at Godric's Hollow. "An' Merlin help Harry. Poor li'l tyke!"
The baby's thin, wailing cries scaled upward into a shriek at the sound of Hagrid's deep voice, but he dared not rush as he cleared away the debris; whatever was holding them up off of the little one could give way at any moment. "Hol' on, Harry. I'll get yeh out jus' as soon as I can. Hol' on now..."
Heaving a large chunk of masonry out of the way, he froze, horrified, as part of the pile collapsed in on itself and the child's cries were abruptly cut off. "Harry?!"
A few agonizing heartbeats passed before the high-pitched wailing resumed, more indignant than ever. "Thank Merlin!"
Finally, tossing bricks over his shoulder like pebbles, Hagrid spotted a flicker of movement. Shoveling plaster fragments out of his way with his hands, he crouched down and came face to dusty, tear-streaked face with Harry Potter, who peered out from between the bars of his wrecked crib, sniffling miserably.
"Ah, there yeh are," Hagrid said softly, slipping two fingers between the bars. The child grabbed them awkwardly, his hands almost too small to find a grip, and stared at the huge, hairy man with fascination, tears momentarily forgotten.
"Shhh. There, now. It'll be all righ'." The half-giant managed a smile. "Tha's righ', no more tears, now. Jus' lemme get the rest o' this stuff off of yeh."
Hagrid reclaimed his fingers, took a moment to find a good grip on the partially-intact section of wall that had dropped over the crib, and lifted it out of the way, dropping it with a thud. A cloud of plaster dust flew up, covering everything in the vicinity, and Harry coughed and began to cry again as he was enveloped in the thick powdery stuff.
Reaching into the small space within the rubble where the child had been miraculously sheltered, Hagrid scooped him up with infinite gentleness in the big hands that could subdue a Thestral by main force.
"Hallo, Harry," he murmured, cradling the tiny trembling body against his huge shoulder. "Are yeh all righ'? Everythin' in one piece?" He looked the little boy over, frowning as he caught sight of the strange mark across his forehead; he'd never seen anything like it before. But that would be something for Professor Dumbledore to sort out.
For now, Hagrid turned and carried the baby out of the ruins, sat down on a large tree stump in the yard, and held him close.
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He wanted Mother. He had been frightened, and whenever he was frightened, Mother would appear to make everything all right. But this time Mother did not come; and so Harry clung close to the first person he had seen since the shouts and the green lights and everything fell down, comforted by the deep rumbling voice and the enormous hands that wrapped him in a soft blanket and stroked his wildly disheveled black hair.
Resting his head trustingly on Hagrid's shoulder, he sucked his tiny fingers and stared at the place where his house had been, uncomprehending; wondering only where Mother had gone...and why the hair on the big man's face was all wet.