A/N Thought up when reading some Harry and Lily fanfics and watching a great video about the night the Potters were killed. I had originally intended Sirius to find the body's and grab Harry, but then I remembered that it was indeed Hagrid that arrived on the scene first, and so I decided to keep within the original storyline. Not my best, but I hope you like it. Please review even if you don't like it!

I do not own Harry Potter, much to my dismay!

The crying could be hard for miles, he was sure of it. Smoke was rising above Godrics Hollow as Hagrid approached the ruin. It was in the early hours of the morning, and it seemed as though the surrounding muggles had yet to realise what had happened that fateful night. Looking up at the once magnificent house, Hagrid suppressed a shudder. He could hear the child, Harry, crying from what had once been an upstairs bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Hagrid walked toward the front door, which had been blasted from its hinges. The pram in the corner was almost completely intact, on its side as if it had simply fallen over in the wind.

The house seemed to be falling apart, and he knew that he had to be quick, but the sight of James Potters body sprawled out, on his back, in the hallway, stopped Hagrid dead in his tracks. He had been expecting it, of course, but it was still a shock. The young man's glasses were cracked and there was a trail of blood, almost dry now, that had trickled down from the corner of his mouth. It looked as though he had been thrown backwards by the force of the curse and hit his head. Hagrid sniffed loudly and wiped his nose. He bent down slowly and closed James hazel eyes. Hagrid stepped away from the body, careful not to disturb it, and begin climbing the stairs. The banister had been blown apart, and the stairs could barely stand Hagrid's weight. The photographs on the wall were hanging from their nails, having been put up the muggle way, the frames now empty of their occupants and the glass smashed.

After the shock of finding James's body in such a condition, Hagrid was apprehensive about walking into what was obviously the child's nursery. The room had been blown apart, there was a plague on the floor, smashed in the explosion, but the wording was still visible; 'Harry's Room'. The ceiling had been blasted off and Hagrid had to climb over the rubble of furniture in the door way. It seemed as though Lily Potter had attempted to barricade herself and her son inside the room.

And there he was. Small Harry Potter stood up in his crib in his pale blue pyjamas, holding onto the bars for dear life, his tear stained face red with a small trickle of blood dribbling down from his forehead. The room was unrecognisable as a nursery. Hagrid was about to step over the last pile of rubble in-between himself and the child, when realization dawned on him. The pile of rubble wasn't a pile of rubble at all. Lily Potter lay on her side in front of Harry's crib. It was obvious to Hagrid that she had been stood between her son and You-Know-You, to protect him. Hagrid bent down ungracefully to close Lily's eyes, like he had done for James. Unlike her husband, she showed no signs of being physically hurt.

A sob escaped Hagrid mouth as a tear dribbled down his cheek. He had known the couple whilst they were at school. Hagrid had already started work as gamekeeper at this point, but Lily was always kind to him, she would sometimes stop in for a cup of tea and a catch up, sensing his loneliness. James on the other hand, wasn't a forward with the gamekeeper, but would offer a smile and a wave if he caught sight of Hagrid.

'MUMA!'

Hagrid was brought back to the present with a jolt. Harry was still screaming, but instead of a steady wailing Hagrid noticed, for the first time, that the boy was actually screaming for his mother or father. It was hard to distinguish through the wails, but Hagrid could catch a few more 'Mumas' and 'Dada's' as he reached down into the crib. Harry hiccoughed from all the crying as Hagrid picked him up and hugged him to his chest.

'Shhhh its alrigh' Harry, its alrigh'.

Hagrid took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the blood off of the child's forehead. What Hagrid found underneath the blood puzzled him. A cut in the peculiar shape of a lightning bolt.

Harry's cries had calmed down now that he was being comforted, his hiccoughing becoming more regular. Hagrid dried his tear stained face and looked around, trying to find something familiar to the child that was still intact. All Hagrid could find was the small patchwork blanket that was folded over the end of Harry's crib. Hagrid wrapped the blanket around the small boy and nuzzled him closer, hoping to hide his mother body from his view. But Hagrid suspected that, young as the boy was, even he could sense that this was not a game, and that his mother wouldn't be getting up to soothe his cries.

Climbing back through the rubble, Hagrid reached the door way, taking one last look back into the room. Harry hiccoughed once again, his small hand clinging to Hagrid huge coat, his eyes fixed on his mothers form. Hagrid gave another sob before proceeding down the stairs. He couldn't bear to look back at James Potter's lifeless form, and hoped to spare Harry the sight of his dead father. Hagrid patted the child's hair affectionately, wiped a tear away off his own face, and strode out of Godrics Hollow and down the pathway, away from the horror scene behind him. He kept his gaze straight ahead, for he knew that if he looked down at the orphan in his arms, or back at the child's broken home, he wouldn't have been able to hold the tears back anymore.