Hagrid looked at the remains of the crumpled houses, feeling the dreadful case of déjà vu. His heart was like a lead balloon about to pop in the pit of his stomach as hot, salty tears slowly worked their way out of his black eyes and down his large face. There was a tightness across his chest that made it hard for him to breathe but none of that was anywhere near as bad as the crushing unbearable hopelessness that was crashing down on him as his heart broke.

They were so naive both times before to think that they had won, that things would change and they wouldn't have to fight again. The first time, Hagrid hadn't let himself believe that Voldemort was gone but the second time he let himself believe. He allowed himself to be just as disillusioned into thinking that it was over just like everyone else. Maybe it was because he had thought that by the time something else went wrong in the wizarding world, he would be dead. They most definitely had never thought that it would happen so soon. The deep wounds of the last war had yet to heal and by the looks of things never would.

Hagrid watched as the wind gently blew a few leaves across the rubble and ruffled his long mane of hair. He was frozen by the scene not just because of how terrible it was but because he had seen the same thing, thirty-two years before. Exactly thirty-two years, right down to the day. This time, however, was so much worse.

Maybe it was because Hagrid had known them so long or maybe it was because of her, the Black Lady. Maybe she was sending a message that only Hagrid could understand. A message saying that she wasn't going to make dumb mistakes like Voldemort, she was going to hit where it hurt.

He could see that it had already started; people were calling her She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named or The Black Lady, which seemed more popular. If Harry had tried to make people understand anything it was that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Hagrid's large body was wracked with sobs as he thought of Harry. Harry, who had done so much, to end up like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. The Black Lady had done what Voldemort couldn't; she did the worst that she could. She took what they depended on most, the heroes.

Hagrid shook his head and started on what Professor McGonagall sent him here to do. He had to find them.

Ron was by far the easiest because of his mop of flaming red hair that stood out among the wreckage. There was a large gash on his forehead that was seeping blood but other than that, he looked fine.

That was the hardest part of wizard murders for Hagrid; they never looked like they should be dead. He gently closed Ron's brown eyes as he swept the lanky body into his arms. Ron looked so young and that made Hagrid think of the little boy he had met so many years ago. The youngest of six boys who was desperate to find something he was good at, something that made him special. Something that would make him better than his older brothers because they had all found their niche except for him. Hagrid couldn't help but laugh at the thought, Ron had ended up the most famous of them all which was saying something considering how much power the Weasley name came with.

He gently laid Ron's limp body down on the grass of the garden that surrounded the houses. Not wanting to find the body that he knew wouldn't be far from Ron's, Hagrid went farther into the wreckage. He rooted around without much organization, thankful for the full moon's light.

Something golden glinted brightly in the moonlight catching Hagrid's eye. He stepped closer and saw Hermione Granger-Weasley. Her brown hair, that wasn't as bushy as it had been when she first learned that she was a witch, fell in a halo around her head. A look of complete determination was set on her face as her final look. Hagrid thought it oddly fitting; she had always been so determined to prove that no one was better just because of genetics. She basically wrote the Code of Wizardry so that everyone had as equal rights as she could without stepping on millions of toes. Hagrid closed her eyes as he laid her down next to Ron. He had known from the first time he saw the two of them together that they were meant for each other. There had always been something in the way that they looked at each other, the way they argued, all of it said that hovering just under the surface was a connection so tight that you could walk across it.

Turning back to the ruins, Hagrid took a deep breath and tried to keep himself together. He couldn't let himself break because he couldn't let the muggles find them. He stepped back into the partially caved in joint entryway of the Potter and Weasley homes. A shock of ink black hair stood out against the debris. Hagrid couldn't leave him once he knew where he was, it just didn't seem right. His assumption that their bodies wouldn't be far apart had been right, the imprint of Ron's long frame was just a few feet away. As he moved the piece of drywall that was covering him, it hit Hagrid.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was dead. His eyes saw the man who saved the wizarding world but his mind only saw the little baby that he had found so many years before, in the same wreckage. Harry's bright green eyes were flat, no longer holding any of the light that they had. His lightning bolt shaped scar blared out of the gray haze like a beacon, trying to give its last bit of hope. Then the hope was snuffed because as Hagrid drew Harry up into his arms, he knew that this wouldn't be like the last time he carried Harry. It was so similar yet Hagrid knew that there wasn't any plan. Harry wasn't going to get up and make everything right again.

He laid Harry down beside Ron and Hermione's bodies. He looked down at the three known by so many as the Golden Trio thanks to the Quibbler and Luna. The sobs came faster and harder, they just looked so small. Harry didn't look the person who saved the entire wizarding world but he never had. None of them did, then again what do you expect when children become your heroes.

Carefully, he moved back through the crumpled mess, moving pieces of house and trying to keep what little bit of himself he still had. He moved slowly up the stairs, taking every step easily so as not to test the remnants of the house with his full weight. At the top of the stairs was a wall that had collapsed. A long band of red hair stuck out from the bottom of the pile and Hagrid found himself praying that it was Ginny. He didn't want to find anyone else, not like that, not because he wanted Ginny to be there. His heart sank further as he moved the pile. Six year old Rose Weasley's eyes wore closed making it look like she really was just sleeping. She had been the perfect blend of her parents, Hermione's intelligence with Ron's easy-going attitude.

Hagrid walked back through after setting Rosie down and came upon the place where Lily's bedroom had been. The four year old was lying in between her mother and Ron and Hermione's son Hugo. Lily, the only girl who was loud and feisty enough to compare to both her mother and namesake. She laid there with her dark brown eyes closed and Hagrid couldn't help but think that she looked like the princess who was under a curse and waiting for true love's first kiss. She loved muggle fairytales and that had always been her favorite, the story of Sleeping Beauty. He set them down beside their parents and was turning back around to go and get Ginny's body when he heard a small voice cry out weakly.

"Help!" He turned and ran towards the sound. He ran back through the house to the part that was nothing more than a pile of sticks. The pale skin of James stood out like a lighthouse among the haze of disaster. His small body was trapped under what looked like a piece of his own house.

"Help, Al! You've got to help Al!" He pleaded and Hagrid realized that the thing pinning James to the ground wasn't house at all, it was his little brother Albus.

Hagrid quickly hefted both boys into his arms as James went into a violent coughing fit. When he finally rested his head on Hagrid's forearm, his ink black hair had shifted so that his forehead was bare. The mark on his forehead made Hagrid stop dead in his tracks as he realized what happened. He laid Albus down and James sat beside the motorbike.

"Wait, right 'ere." He told the seven year old as he walked away.

Hagrid knew that he had to get James somewhere safe but he couldn't leave Ginny and the little kids like that. He quickly gathered them up in his arms and started back towards the clearing.

"Uncle Ron?" He heard James's small voice say. Oh Merlin. He didn't want James to find out like this. He looked up and saw someone sitting up. Hagrid quickened his pace and then stopped in shock.

It was Ron and he was alive! The man pulled his nephew into a hug just as James passed out.

A/N: Hi everyone! For those of you who are subscribers, I'm really sorry that this isn't the newest chapter of Jase Potter and the Phoenix Syndrome. I was going back through my stories on and I realized that for as much as I loved this story, I could do much better with it. So I've embarked on a rewrite! This is the prologue and you can expect the first chapter within the next few days.

I would love to thank my wonderful beta, softballpitcher for all her help on this chapter. :)

If you like the story enough to favorite or put on alert please review!

Thanks!

-Prim