#hagrid

[sahind]

HBO'S HARRY POTTER and the Philosopher's Stone (2026-)

[trappezoider]

Thank you, professor.

[karlrincon]

Rest in peace to an absolute treasure, Dame Maggie Smith.

They’ve been reunited 🤍

[madocasmagic]

"I've always wanted to see an interaction between Hagrid and Snape at school. So I made this drawing.

I need to pay this month’s bills, so I’m opening commissions 2/5

Please Dm

[vanitasphantom]

Look I'm probably gonna get hate but whatever I won't let yall slander my boy Harry, I am so tired of people acting like Harry Potter was some kind of ungrateful brat for not naming his kid after Remus. Let’s actually look at the facts instead of the "found family" headcanons, because the reality is that Albus Severus makes total sense, and the hate is based on a version of Lupin that didn't actually exist for Harry.

​1. The "Uncle Moony" Delusion

​First of all, let’s talk about the people who shame Harry for knowing him only as "Professor Lupin." He was his professor! People act like Remus was this doting "Uncle Moony" who sent Harry birthday cards for twelve years. He didn't.

​Twelve Years of Silence: Where was Remus from ages 1 to 12? He knew Harry was at the Dursleys. He knew Harry was James’s son. Even if Dumbledore forbid him from visiting, he never even sent a letter.

​Professional Boundaries: In Prisoner of Azkaban, Remus is strictly professional. He doesn't even tell Harry he knew James and Lily until the very end of the year. Harry calling him "Professor" isn't an insult it’s a reflection of the actual relationship they had—which was mentor and student, not uncle and nephew.

​2. The Logistics of "Taking Harry In"

​The "Remus should have raised him" crowd is ignoring the absolute nightmare of his life at that time.

​People forget that before the Wolfsbane Potion was widely available/affordable, Remus was a literal danger to everyone around him once a month. How is a lone, impoverished werewolf supposed to raise the "Chosen One" while turning into a mindless monster every 28 days?

​No Support System This was before he met Tonks. He had no money, no steady job because of the stigma, and no partner to help. If he had taken Harry, who would have watched the toddler during the full moon? It wasn't feasible, and Remus knew that. He chose to stay away to "protect" Harry, but you can't blame Harry for not being "close enough" to a man who prioritized his own shame over reaching out.

​3. The "Legacy" Argument is Weak

​Why would Harry name his son Remus when Teddy Lupin exists? Teddy is Remus's literal son and Harry’s godson. Naming a Potter kid "Remus" would be so weirdly redundant. It’s like Harry is saying, "Hey Teddy, I know your dad was your dad, but I'm going to take his name for my kid too."

​By naming his son Albus Severus, Harry is honoring the two men(who did what they could to protect him) who had no one else to carry on their names. Dumbledore’s family was gone; Snape died alone. Harry was the only one who could give them that immortality.

​4. The Ginny Erasure

​And I am so done with the "Ginny had no say" nonsense. George is older. George already had a son named Fred. The "primary" Weasley tribute was already taken.

​Ginny’s brothers were already filling up the family tree with Molly, Lucy, Fred and Arthur.

​Does anyone actually think Ginny Weasley—the girl who survived a possession, fought in the Department of Mysteries, and is one of the fiercest characters in the book—would just sit there and nod if she hated the names? She clearly agreed that Harry’s need to heal from his trauma and honor those specific sacrifices was important. Don't disrespect my girl Ginny like that again she will beat Harry ass if she want to

And ​At the end of the day, Harry didn't owe Remus a namesake. Remus was a great teacher, but he was a distant, ghost-like figure in Harry's childhood. Harry chose to honor the people who shaped the "Great Game" that allowed him to survive, and he did it with Ginny’s full support. People need to stop projecting a relationship onto Remus that he never actually worked to build with Harry.

[sparkle-twinkle]

The goal is to be as happy as Rubeus Hagrid (Nick Frost) in the snow

[ruzz9]

Unintended Witness

Summary: Hagrid was only looking for one of his usual strange creatures, now lost somewhere in the castle... but what he found behind Snape's door wasn’t his mooncalf — it was something scandalously more untimely than he ever could’ve expected.

Part I & Part II

A/N: Just a short little piece I had fun writing from Hagrid’s point of view. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Warnings: None

1,3k words

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The night had grown thick over Hogwarts. A damp wind slipped through the cracks in the castle stone, and the torches flickered with a faint, complaining hiss. Outside, the howls of some distant creature drifted through the trees, but inside the castle, all was silent… except for Hagrid’s heavy footsteps.

He had been wandering for hours — through corridors, corners, broom closets, and empty classrooms. Moony didn’t usually wander off this far. She was playful, yes, a little slippery at times, but she always came back when she was hungry or cold. This time, she hadn’t.

“Where’ve you gone off to, little one…?” Hagrid murmured to himself, pausing at the base of a spiral staircase.

By now, he had only one place left to check: the dungeons.

With a lantern swinging from his hand, he descended the stone steps slowly, his boots echoing down the damp hallway. He knew it was late. And that not everyone would be thrilled to see him roaming around down here.

He passed the Potions classroom door. Nothing. The air smelled of damp stone and old brews. No trace of Moony.

Until he stopped in front of a tall door made of dark wood: Professor Snape’s chambers.

Hagrid hesitated. Maybe it was overkill, but… what if the little one had slipped inside, drawn by a scent or the warmth?

He knocked gently at first. Waited. Nothing.

He knocked again, more firmly. Still nothing.

With a sigh, he raised his fist once more and gave a third knock, not quite realizing the strength behind it. The wood groaned faintly under the impact.

Finally, the door creaked open with a dry whisper. Just enough to let out a sliver of warm light from within… and reveal half of Professor Snape’s face.

“What in Merlin’s name do you want?” Snape muttered, voice rough with sleep, though clearly trying not to speak too loudly.

“Sorry, Professor,” Hagrid said quietly, inadvertently lifting the lantern and shining it right into Snape’s face.

Snape flinched, eyes narrowing instantly with irritation as if the light had physically struck him.

“Oh— sorry… didn’t mean to,” Hagrid muttered, lowering the lantern at once.

Snape didn’t answer, but his expression was all the response Hagrid needed.

“I’m lookin’ for Moony. My mooncalf. She went missin’ earlier today, and I’ve been searchin’ the castle ever since. I thought maybe... well, maybe she wandered in here without you noticin’.”

Snape stared at him with that trademark look of impatient skepticism, eyes half-lidded. His dark hair hung loose and slightly mussed, shadowing his face. He clearly had no interest in entertaining such an idea.

“A mooncalf,” he repeated, as though the word itself tasted offensive.

“Yes, sir. Small, grey, round eyes. Sweet as can be. She likes warm corners to curl up in…”

Snape narrowed the door slightly, as if that alone might end the conversation. But Hagrid, moved by concern more than manners, instinctively placed a large hand against the wood. With almost no effort, he nudged it open just a bit farther.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said earnestly. “Just a quick look, in case she’s here…”

But what he saw as he peeked inside stopped him cold.

The room was dimly lit by a single candle. The air was warm, touched by a soft, unfamiliar scent. And on the large bed, tangled in rumpled sheets, a woman lay sleeping on her side — pale, peaceful, barely covered, her breathing slow and deep.

Hagrid froze, blinking. A fierce blush rose up his neck, and he stumbled back at once, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Oh— Merlin! I’m so sorry, Professor... I didn’t know you were… occupied,” he stammered, eyes fixed firmly to the floor as if that might undo what he’d seen.

The door shut immediately, not slammed, but pushed with that slow, chilling finality that spoke of restrained fury.

When it opened again, just a crack — just enough for Snape’s face to appear in the narrow slit — his eyes burned with silent outrage. Yet he still spoke, in that low, blade-sharp voice of his:

“Listen carefully, Hagrid,” he said, each word crisp and precise. “There is no creature here. No mooncalf. No furred thing, no slimy thing, and absolutely nothing that belongs to you.”

Hagrid opened his mouth, but no words came. He simply nodded, slowly, still red as a beetroot.

“Am I clear?” Snape added, even softer, each syllable sharpened by the effort to avoid waking the figure behind him.

“Y-yes, sir… I didn’t mean to… just thought maybe…”

“You thought wrong,” Snape cut in. “Good night.”

And the door closed with final, decisive quiet.

Hagrid stood there for a moment, facing the carved wood, mouth slightly open, hat in hand, heart thudding just a little faster than usual. That awkward, sinking feeling settled in — the one that comes when you’ve accidentally crossed into someone’s private world. He hadn’t meant to see anything. But he had.

“Moony… wherever yeh are, yeh better show up soon, before I stick my foot in it again,” he muttered, before turning away and walking off at a brisker pace, the lantern swinging gently at his side.

The morning had dawned damp, with a fine drizzle that felt more like mist than rain. The stone steps of the castle were slick, and the ground gave a soft crunch under Hagrid’s boots as he stood near the main entrance, his gaze lost in the distant trees.

In his hands, he held an old blanket—the same one he used to wrap Moony in when she was just a baby. His heart still felt a little tight, though he did his best to hide it.

Professor McGonagall’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Good morning, Rubeus.”

“Professor,” Hagrid replied, lifting his eyes with a gentle nod. “Lovely day for findin’ absolutely nothin’.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Still no sign of your creature?”

Hagrid sighed and rubbed his beard.

“Not a trace. Like the castle swallowed her whole. I’ve been all over Hogwarts… every corridor, every empty room. I even went up to the Astronomy Tower, the east wing, the greenhouses...even squeezed through that portrait corridor where they’re always grumblin’, you know the one?”

Minerva nodded patiently.

“Even went down into the dungeons… ended up knockin’ on Professor Snape’s chambers.”

She turned her head slightly, just enough to show interest.

“He didn’t answer at first, but I kept at it. And when he finally opened up… well, I think I might’ve caught him at a bad time. There was a woman with him. Sleepin’. A very beautiful woman, if I may say so.”

The effect was immediate.

“Excuse me?” McGonagall said, suddenly bolt upright, eyes wide behind her glasses.

Hagrid blinked.

“Yes… well,” he stammered, lowering his voice a little, “she was in his bed. Didn’t get a good look, of course, she was covered up… just saw her back. I didn’t mean to stare, no ma’am. I apologized straight away and left. I was just lookin’ for Moony.”

“A woman… in his chambers?” McGonagall repeated, and there was nothing theatrical in her disbelief—it was pure, stunned astonishment.

And now Hagrid did flush. Not like a child caught misbehaving, but like someone who just realized they might’ve said something they shouldn’t have.

“I didn’t mean... I wasn’t tryin’ to interrupt or... tell tales out of turn,” he said quickly. “It was just a glance, Professor. Don’t even know who she was. But yes… she was there.”

Minerva looked at him hard, as if weighing every word, or perhaps hoping one might prove false on its own.

“Are you absolutely certain of what you saw, Rubeus?”

He nodded, regretfully.

“I am, Professor.”

The silence that followed was thick. Wind whistled through the empty corridor. Then McGonagall slowly smoothed her cloak, as though restraining a stronger reaction.

“Thank you for telling me. I hope you find your creature soon.”

And without another word, she turned with measured grace and made her way back into the castle.

But Hagrid remained still, with the creeping feeling that he’d just stirred the waters of a very deep lake.

[la-reine326]

The fact that someone like JK Rowling created a character like Harry Potter completely baffles me

Harry Potter who was outraged when the magical community wouldn't accept a werewolf at Hogwarts

Harry Potter who regularly had tea with the half giant groundskeeper

Harry Potter who at 12 years old freed a house elf from his abusive master and then five years later insisted on giving that same house elf a proper burial

Harry has his flaws, but what always stood out to me about him was how tolerant and accepting he was. There were plenty of people he didn't like, but that was always because of who they were as a person. It's even made a point in the series that he maintained relationships with groups who were not usually friendly with wizards (probably because of past mistreatment) like ghosts and centaurs. So, how such a bigoted and close-minded person created him is beyond me.