Chapter Text
When Hagrid met Harry for the first time, he wasn’t anything like Hagrid was expecting.
Harry was a short boy with hair more red than black, and eyes the vibrant shade of the killing curse. He wore his father's signature round glasses, and was as skinny as a toothpick. In the morning, Hagrid would end up taking the skinny, skinny boy to Diagon Alley for the first time. Harry didn’t know anything about magic, his parents, or his fame.
As it turns out, the Dursleys didn’t tell Harry anything about the magical community in Britain.
In fact, Harry didn’t even know who he got his lightning bolt shaped scar from. Harry was told that he got his scar from the car crash his parents died in, that his parents were supposedly drunkards, and that he was a freak. Harry had confided in Hagrid that from the first years of his life going all the way up to until he started school he thought his name was Freak. He had no clue why some random people on the street would bow to him and thank him out of nowhere. Harry didn’t know that he defeated You-Know-Who.
Hagrid was simultaneously confused because Harry was not at all what he was expecting, angry at the Dursleys for telling Harry lies, and relieved that Dumbledore chose him to be the one to teach Harry about the magical world.
“Harry, yer parents would’ve wanted you to go to Hogwarts; you’ve been signed up there ever since ye were born,” Hagrid said.
“Look Hagrid, Imma be honest with you, I’m like no cap, deadass ready to die. I don’t really give a shit about what my dead parents want; they ded, man! I just want to clap death’s cheeks and Yeet on out of there. Like is that really so much to ask for? I’m shook bruh, S-H-O-O-K,” Harry went off, not looking away from the small, lit up tablet he was furiously tapping at.
Hagrid understood none of what Harry just said.
“Uhhh… wut?” Hagrid intelligently asked. Harry just sighed and gave the half giant one of *those* looks.