Everyone is familiar with the story of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. We all know how he came to vanquish the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and how he gave birth to several children whom bore the names of his most cherished friends and family, but little is known about Harry James Potter's lastborn son, Remus Rubeus Potter. This is the story of the child's namesake, Rubeus Hagrid, as he prepares his final will and testament.

Hagrid was so very tired and so very sore as he reclined in a rocking chair next to the fire of his cabin, waiting for his next class to start in a few hours. It has been cold and wet for so long, the nice weather was a welcome change of pace as the grounds of Hogwarts began to turn green and grow. Summer was almost upon them, and term was coming to a close, and Hagrid couldn't help but feel that all the years behind him had slipped by in a blaze of happiness, teaching, and excitement as he shared his passion for Magical Creatures with his students. Of course, as he did whenever he thought about the past, he also thought about his friends, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, along with their whole network of fiends, all of whom had grown so much since Hagrid first welcomed them to Hogwarts.

"Think I'll put on some tea," Hagrid grunted as he gingerly stood, using his walking stick that was more of a large tree than a cane. He stumped across the floor of his small cabin and set about preparing a pot of tea to set above the blazing fire in the hearth. As he struggled to work his thick, arthritic fingers, Hagrid remembered the times leading up to that moment, and he smiled.

He had been there when Harry Potter saved the wizarding world from Voldemort's clutches and once more brought peace and prosperity for all wizarding kind. It had seemed so long ago that Hagrid could barely remember the details, but a few moments returned to him in clarity. The dozens of parties that had sprung up after Voldemort's defeat, the heart wrenching mass funeral for all those who had died in the battle of Hogwarts, and the tender moments he had spent with his young comrades as they recovered from their traumatic roles in the war.

"Musta bin rough for 'em," Hagrid mused to himself, "so young and yet so pressured. Can't've bin healthy…"

But even so, his young wizarding friends had grown into fine adults, regardless of their shaky start in life. All three of them had become wonderful wizards that were respected in their fields and they wore their past experiences like a ladder, rather than just dead weight, a little something to give them a boost. Needless to say, the thought of those three brought a tear to Hagrid's eye, and it made him so proud that he could call them friends.

"Seems like on'y yesterday they was helpin me find a home fer Norbert," Hagrid said, looking out the window at the cloudy day. He managed to get the tea pot straightened out and he sat back down at his table, in the large, sturdy rocking chair that had been a gift from Hermione, who had magically grown and reinforced the wood. It was easily one of the best gifts he'd received, right next to the one he'd gotten from Harry several years prior.

"You sure it's bin fixed," Hagrid asked nervously as he and Harry walked down Diagon Alley together.

"Of course, Hagrid," Harry said happily, "I've gotten all the official paperwork approved, I made the appointment, I even gave you a note from the Minister of Magic saying it was alright, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then it's fine, really, your name was cleared years ago, they had no reason to take your wand from you, and now they've even offered to pay for the replacement! So don't worry so much Hagrid."

Hagrid looked down at Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, though he wasn't much of a boy anymore. He had grown into a fine man, and he wore a pair of circle glasses, just as he had during his youth. He was dressed in a long coat with a lot of buttons and his hair was slicked back. He had a fine growth of facial hair and he looked so mature and professional. Even so, Hagrid could still see the faint traces of the boy within the adult's features.

"Sorry," Hagrid said, "I's not tha' I don' trust yeh, Harry, I just-"

"I get it," Harry said quietly, "not eager to toe the line of the law after they threw you into Azkaban… I understand, but believe me when I say they'd have to go through me before they tried to chuck you back in there, that I promise you. As the head of the Auror's Office, I can personally guarantee you that I would keep you out of there, erm, provided you didn't, you know, break the law too severely."

"Now tha' yeh mention it, Harry, I did get a visit from the Department o' the Disposal o' Magical Creatures, issued me a warnin' and whatnot, yeh think you could smooth tha' over too?"

"Not sure about that Hagrid," Harry laughed, "what was it about?"

"I was on'y jokin', Harry, I've learnt me lesson. Have a bit more faith in me, eh?"

"Sorry Hagrid," Harry said, "I guess old habits really do die hard. I thought you might've gotten your hands on another dragon egg or something."

"Nah," Hagrid said, "I on'y wish…"

The shop they were searching for came into view and Harry pulled open the door and let Hagrid go in first, a fitting twist, seeing as Hagrid had escorted him there so long ago, back when he was first purchasing his own wand. Harry waited for Hagrid to bow his head and lumber past him before he glanced up at the sign that read 'Ollivander's Fine Wands' and followed him into the wand store.

"Ah, Hagrid, good to see you," said the young man behind the counter, whom Hagrid figured must have been a relative of Ollivander's from his hauntingly pale eyes and his mysterious presence. He was rather thin and gangly looking, he had large, thick spectacles and curly hair that was so blonde it might have been white.

"Good to see yeh, Mister…"

"Ollivander," said the young man, "but my friends simply call me Gerry. Please, come in, I've been expecting you."

Hagrid stepped carefully into the shop, his first visit to the wand store still fresh in his mind, even after so long. Harry stepped forward and brandished several papers before the young wandmaker, who took them all from the Auror and flicked through them quickly.

"Everything seems to be in order," he muttered to himself, handing the papers back to Harry, "I'll go fetch it now."

The young man turned about and headed up the stairs of the shop, into the shadowy, shelf filled storerooms, laden with wands galore and a rather frightening amount of dust. Hagrid and Harry waited for what seemed like an hour before they began to hear curious noises from the top of the stairwell. They seemed to be slow, careful steps, followed by strange thuds and furious mutterings.

"I am plenty strong enough for this, Gerry," said a raspy voice, "I owe it to the poor lad after I testified at his trial."

From around the corner, at the top of the stairs, came two figures. One was bent, wizened and incredibly old, and the other was his red faced descendant, who looked rather unhappy about his relative's moving about and walking.

"I could have given it to him," Gerry said, slowly but carefully helping his grandfather down the stairs.

"No," Ollivander wheezed as he took the steps, "I will… be the one to… do this."

"Ollivander," Hagrid whispered, "yeh look mighty young fer yer age, sir."

"You as well, Hagrid," the old, wizened wandmaker replied, "your heritage does you much credit, aside from a little grey you look much the same as you did years ago."

"Thank'ee sir," Hagrid said with a small smile.

"Now, I understand that you are here today to retrieve a wand," Ollivander said quietly, huffing as he leaned upon both his grandson and a heavy metal cane, "but I am afraid I cannot sell you one."

For a moment, Hagrid looked devastated, and Harry was about to curse out the wandmaker when he smiled, a twinkle lighting his opalescent eyes.

"I cannot sell you a wand, because you will be getting one free of charge. I was the one who provided key evidence that caused you to be expelled. You must forgive me, Hagrid, but when asked for my professional opinion, I had to give it."

Hagrid stepped forward, and after a moment, he held out his arms and pulled the old wandmaker into a gentle hug that he returned as best as his old, tired muscles could.

"No harm done," Hagrid said, "with Harry's help, and yers, it seems things are finally comin' full circle."

"Well, yes, I believe that they are indeed coming full circle," Ollivcander said, reaching behind him and pulling out a long, thin box. Hagrid stared at the box and noted how perfect it looked. It was a ruddy orange color, like faded parchment and it almost appeared red in places. The box, however, was clean and seemingly brand new.

"I began work on this as soon as I heard Harry was taking care of your criminal record for you," Ollivander said, "this is likely the last wand I will ever make, one last hurrah, if you will. I am glad that I got to do this for you before I leave this world."

Ollivander stuck out a veiny hand, revealing liver spots and large, knobby knuckles which Hagrid ignored as he took the old wandmaker's hand.

"I'm honored," Hagrid said, "deeply, sir, I won't let 'em take this one from me, that I promise. I'll keep it 'nd frame it on me wall."

"No, no, no, Hagrid," Ollivander said, "you must use it. Go ahead, show us what you have!"

Hagrid reached in and pulled out the wand, gazing at it like it was the first time he'd ever seen one.

"Eighteen inches," Ollivander whispered, "stiff as a log, and as strong as one, too. It has a phoenix tail core, the very last one I collected before Dumbledore's death, and the flight of his companion, Fawkes."

"So now," Harry said thoughtfully, "the cores of our wands are the same."

"The same," Hagrid asked, "how?"

"Fawkes' feathers make up the core of Mr. Potter's wand as well," Ollivander said, "your wands are now brothers, linked by a very archaic and cryptic form of magic."

"Me an' Harry," Hagrid asked, looking at his friend, who smiled at him.

"Yup, me and you, Hagrid," Harry commented, "just like the first time we came to Diagon Alley… I guess things really have come full circle."

Hagrid remembered the tears of joy and gratitude he had shed after that. The entire time he was out and about with Harry, he had been tearful. Still, Hagrid couldn't help it. His body was far bigger than a normal human's so his heart would be bigger than most human's too, right?

The tea kettle began to shriek and Hagrid struggled to get out of his chair again, taking the pot from the fire and pouring himself a large cup of steaming liquid, and adding copious amounts of honey and cream. Sure, it wasn't good for him, but Hagrid had the distinct feeling he didn't have much time, anyway. There it was again: Death. Hagrid's old friend had been in his head for some time now, especially when he had begun to feel an irreplaceable chill in his bones. Yes, Death would come for Hagrid soon, and he had to make arrangements for when that happened. With a sigh, Hagrid set his tea aside and strode over to Fang the boarhound's empty bed, bending down and rummaging through the bedding. Hagrid felt sadness tighten his chest as he thought about his favorite canine companion. Fang had been a good dog, and now he was resting by the pumpkin patch, right next to Aragog.

"Let's see, where'd I put yeh… there ya are."

Hagrid stood, clutching a long sheet of parchment that was scrawled upon all over the place. Hagrid's handwriting was never neat, but there, in big letters across the top were the words 'The Last Will and Testament of Rubeus Hagrid.' He strode back over to his table and thumped down a couple of rock cakes, an inkwell and an old battered quill. He sat himself down in his favorite chair and he stared at the long lines of neat, tidy writing that he had managed to trace to the best of his ability. It wouldn't do if Harry had to be called in to read Hagrid's Will.

"On'y one that never had a problem readin' my writin'," Hagrid laughed to himself as the sky outside turned darker and the afternoon slipped by.

After dabbing through another few lines, he sighed again and looked out his window. Soon enough, he would be back outside in the dreary mess that had taken over what was a lovely day. But it would be worth it to see the looks on his seventh year students' faces when he unveiled his newest creature for them to study: the Demiguise. The silver haired creatures could turn invisible, and as such, their fur was usually woven into cloaks of invisibility. Sure, his seventh year class only consisted of a few people, but those who did take the class in their seventh year were sure to share Hagrid's love of magical creatures, and his enthusiasm when it came to their study and care. Those that made the cut often got leading jobs in various departments dealing with magical creatures. Whether it was the Head of the Disposal of Magical Creatures, to the dragon tamers of the south, Hagrid's students all went on to make their Professor proud. More often than not, he received cards from them, showcasing creatures they had come into contact with, or countries they were visiting. It was nice that Hagrid was thought of, but Hagrid's favorite cards came from his friends, Harry, Ron and Hermione, all three of whom still kept in touch. It was heartwarming to receive letters about their lives, outlining their families and inviting him to Christmas and birthdays and just about every other event of their adulthood.

Hagrid grinned as he thought about how much things had changed. One second he's helping Harry Potter buy his school things, the next Harry is helping him buy his second wand.

"What a life," Hagrid said as he scribbled upon his Will. Hagrid was not a man of leisure, but after working as both the gamekeeper and a Professor for so many years, he had a large amount of unused finances. He could have bought a house, or just about anything he wanted, but he had no desire to purchase a new home. No, Hogwarts was home for Hagrid. It always had been, and it always would be.

'Tha's probably why me 'nd Harry always got on so well,' Hagrid thought to himself, 'we was both jus' outsiders, and then we came here 'nd…'

Hagrid let the thought trail away as he was seized by an intense chill, and the irresistible urge to rest his eyes, if only for a moment. Hagrid took a sip of his tea and set down his quill, content to doze in his chair until the bell to signal the start of the next lesson came.

But the bell rang, Hagrid's students assembled, and no Hagrid. They waited until finally someone took the initiative to open the door of his cabin and have a look inside. The young man, who came out pale faced and scared, turned to his fellow students.

"Professor Hagrid has passed away," he said solemnly. Everyone looked sad, though Hagrid was long gone by then. His last thoughts as he had dozed off being ones of the letter he had received from Harry earlier that week, a letter that lifted his heart and made him glad for the life he had lived.

Evening, my wonderful wizards, I present to you a small fic about the last moments of Hagrid, inspired by a post that really brought Hagrid's importance in Harry's life to light. I have a few ideas for the next chapters, likely a funeral of some sort, followed by Will itself. Rest in Peace, Rubeus Hagrid.

Also, credit to UnripeHamadryad of deviantart for the cover image, which was easily the best representation of Hagrid I could find! She is unnaturally gifted with portraits and her art is simply stunning, please go check out her profile at: