This is a double drabble of 200 words, the fourth in the series of Hagrid drabbles.
Characters: Rubeus Hagrid, Ogg
Hagrid spread grease on the axle, then lifted the corner of the carriage with one hand as he spun the wheel with the other. Twice a year, he washed the carriages, greased the wheels, and conditioned the harnesses. This June, he tried to do it mechanically, without thinking; it was just another task among many.
This year, if things were different, he would have been on one of these carriages for the last time. This would have been his final Leaving Feast, if he had made it past OWLs to NEWT-level classes. He thought he would have done well enough in Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, his best and favourite classes.
Thinking about it made his heart beat funny and his stomach do flip-flops. He couldn’t wish to be among the laughing, chattering seventh-years. He couldn’t miss the camaraderie they’d shared over the last four years. He couldn’t share their hope for a future, family, career, legacy …
“Good job wi’ them Thestrals,” Ogg said, coming out of the paddock. “Don’ know how yeh do it, Hagrid. Yer a nat’ral. Kettleburn says he ain’t seen naught like it.”
Hagrid lowered the carriage. This was his future. Not so bad, really.