Every so often, Mr. Hagrid would ask the owners of the Magical Menagerie if he could bring his little boy in to help. "Little Rubeus," he'd go on, "is just fascinated with all the beasties I tell him about."They'd agreed, and hadn't thought anything of it until they'd actually seen the boy.
'Little' Rubeus Hagrid was nothing of the sort, marching down Diagon Alley's cobblestone way holding his father's hand. He was nearly double his father's size, and for a boy of only six, he looked to have quite a bit of meat on him.
The moment he'd laid eyes on the Menagerie, a spectacular smile had spread across his face.
The owners were skeptical, but they couldn't deny that Rubeus was a wonderful assistant, always diligent and ready to do whatever he was asked. "Feed the jarveys? No problem, sir."He would scamper off and do just what he was asked, lingering just for a moment to pet and play with the various creatures that sat in their respective cages.
One day he'd happened upon a phoenix they'd recently had shipped in.
"What's that?" Rubeus had asked, staring in rapture at the magnificent golden bird which, oddly enough, regarded him with much the same interest.
"That, my boy," Mr. Hagrid had said, "is a phoenix. Very, very rare, come from the Far East, they do. This one is 'Ptolemy'. Grand name for a bird of his stature."
Rubeus had watched the bird, and his father had left him to do just that until it was time for them to go home. The two had Apparated back to Ottery St. Catchpole, Rubeus clinging to his father's shoulder as they made their way home.
"Dad," Rubeus asked that night, do you think we can have a feenix?"
Mr. Hagrid tucked in his boy's covers and his usual smile faltered. "Maybe someday, my boy. But they're awfully expensive, and we just don't have the Galleons. But I'll get you something just as good."
The boy had been crestfallen initially, but the prospect of receiving pets of his very own had made him quite optimistic. He went to bed with a enormous smile plastered upon his face and a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them clutched in his hands.
The next night, over dinner (Mr. Hagrid was no good at cooking, unless it was rock cakes, so they usually bought food from a local shop), Rubeus told his father that he wanted to have a collection.
"Of what?"Mr. Hagrid asked inquisitively.
"Of pets!"He clapped his hands excitedly. "Kneazles an' ashwinders an' erumpents an' dragons - don't forget the dragons an' - "
Mr. Hagrid held up a hand to stop him. Rubeus fell silent. Mr Hagrid smiled and simply said, "I'll get you as many pets as you'd like, Rubeus."
It came to pass that Mr. Hagrid set up a little shack in the backyard where Rubeus could keep and care for his various pets. It was a small wooden affair with shelves for cages and chickenwire strewn about every this way and that.
The first pets were the kneazles, a whole litter of them, which Hagrid kept in his room. Next came an ill-behaved crup and a swarm of pixies, half of whom went loose as soon as the Knuts had been traded. He'd happened upon a nest of salamanders, too, though when he tried to get them into their cages, they ended up setting the shack on fire. After that it was agreed that perhaps a limit upon the number of pets Rubeus could keep was probably in order.
Not long after, he went to Hogwarts, and was promptly put into Gryffindor. Mr. Hagrid had been a Hufflepuff, and though he was dismayed to learn that his son hadn't been made a Badger, he had no arguments with having a Lion in the family.
Rubeus Hagrid made his first real friend at Hogwarts, as many young wizards and witches seem to do, right after the Sorting.
Artimus Zoof had always been a bit of a nutter, or at least so-said his ex-girlfriend, Enid Smeek. He'd been in Hagrid's year at Hogwarts - another Gryffindor - and it hadn't been long after their first Care of Magical Creatures class that they'd become friends.
"Crikey, I'd love to get meself a hippogriff," the wiry-haired Artie had said.
"You, too?" Hagrid had asked, incredulously.
And just like that, the two had formed an unstoppable duo. The enormous Hagrid, whom nearly everyone suspected had just a bit of giant blood in his veins, and the miniscule, but not at all outspoken Artie Zoof, whom everyone thought a quack.
Neither of them really minded. Though Rubeus did get into his fair share of trouble.
Rubeus had managed to pawn the werewolf tykes off onto Artie, who'd snuck them out under a newly-bought Invisibility Cloak into the Forbidden Forest, before the Headmaster could find them, though rumors had spread nonetheless. And Arty had known about Aragog the whole time, ever since Hagrid had brought the sickly-white egg into their Common Room.
"Hagrid, what's that?"
Hagrid's jolly face had crinkled into a smile.
"Acromantula egg. Bloody difficult to get me hands on, but would'ya look at it!" He eyed it as though, rather than a sickly-white shell, it were purest gold. Zoof's face betrayed the briefest moment of fascination, before shock took hold.
"Are you mad? Those things are outlawed! You'll be expelled for sure this time!"
Hagrid looked absolutely torn. "He's not even born yet! An' the man I bought him from says his mum's gone! I couldn' leave him on his own like that!"
Try as he might, Arty could not feel pity for the pulsating sac in Hagrid's arms.
Then, of course, little Aragog had been accussed of killing all the Muggleborns, and Tom Riddle had placed all of the blame upon Hagrid. Rubeus had tried, of course, to appeal to Dumbledore, who was not yet Headmaster but merely Transfiguration Professor. Nevertheless, Headmaster Dippet had seen to it that Hagrid was expelled. His father had died not very long ago, and thus Hagrid had no place to go. Professor Dumbledore, great man, spoke with the Headmaster, however, and although they were most assuredly going to snap Hagrid's wand, he could remain at Hogwarts under the tutelage of Ogg, the groundskeeper.
Arty would visit with Hagrid, of course, but it was vastly different than sharing classes together. Occasionally Arty would help in the various tasks Hagrid had to perform - and eventually, when Ogg left altogether, Hagrid took up the post of groundskeeper.
Arty went right into the Ministry of Magic, almost as soon as he'd left Hogwarts. He'd been recommended - probably by Kettleburn - to Laslow Scrimgeour, whose brother Rufus worked somewhere in the Auror Office. Scrimgeour had thus seen to it that Zoof was made Head of the Beast Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He did well, too, though his exploits were hardly substantial enough to warrant anything but a fourth page article in the Daily Prophet.
Hagrid, meanwhile, remained at Hogwarts, because in truth, Hogwarts was the only home he'd ever really had, even moreso than Ottery St. Catchpole. His jobs were an assorted hodge-podge of labor that simply needed doing, whether it was helping Professor Sprout tend to the gardens, keeping the Forbidden Forest's multitude of critters at bay, or protecting helpless students from the walking flobberworm that was Argus Filch.
When Artimus Zoof appeared outside of Hagrid's hovel one day, he was greeted by a man whom he hardly recognized, heads taller than he'd been when they'd last seen one another. A massive beard had overtaken Hagrid's face like weeds in an untrimmed garden, and he was perhaps slightly more red in the face than he'd been years ago, but he was no doubt the very same Hagrid. After the greeting, and a spot of casual conversation, Hagrid invited Arty inside, offering tea, rock cakes, and perhaps a bit of Firewhiskey.
"'Fraid I can't be riskin' the Firewhiskey, Hagrid. I'm on Ministry business. Scrimgeour's got a guard manticore loose at Azkaban. Doesn't seem to know what to do about it,"he'd said, "so I recommended you to him."
"Me?" Rubeus had looked at him with the same incredulous look he'd given back when the two had met during a Care of Magical Creatures class. "Why would a Ministry bloke want someone like me meddlin'?"
"Well, not you alone. You obviously can't perform magic, so I'll be in charge of the wandwork. But given what I told him about you, he thinks you can make it more ... er ... amiable, especially given the fact that we're to be taking it in."
Zoof confessed that he knew damn well that the Ministry would no doubt execute the creature, even if they managed to safely capture it. "Doesn' matter,"Hagrid lied, for it mattered quite a lot to him, "I'll help s'best I can."
Hagrid led Arty off of the Hogwarts grounds and the two Apparated (Hagrid by Side-Along) to the Apparition-point just off of Azkaban Island proper. Hagrid could make out only the thick fog blanketing the landscape and nothing more.
Arty had registered as an Animagus over the past few years, and as Hagrid watched, he Transformed into a little red squirrel. Hagrid chuckled, initially amused, but felt a pang of enzy at his friend's magical accomplishments. Zoof ran off to find the Portkey that would take them to Azkaban Island.
The manticore was found only after an extensive search of the area. They'd found the creature hiding in a fissure just off the main island, in fact. It sat huddled in a corner, and despite it being obviously emaciated, Hagrid thought Arty might turn tail and flee. Its body was yellowy, four lionlike paws clicking and clacking as the long black claws hit the stone floor. A great long stinger curved over its head, ending in a wicked point that loomed threateningly over its humanlike (but not quite) head. It observed the visitors with obvious hunger, but did not move.
Hagrid spoke to it, and in only minutes had made it quite amiable. Arty lingered at the edge of the cave, but Hagrid slowly approached it, managing at last to lay a hand upon its haunches. They spoke of wizards and witches and elves and goblins, and the affairs of the magical world. The manticore spoke of mistreatment, and of his cruel masters who whipped him and mistreated him and made him stand at Azkaban's gates night and day.
"And the heathens hardly give me proper sustenance! Just rotted gruel and the leftover cadavers from those nasty Dementors. Hardly a diet for a beast of my caliber!" He looked sickened by the very prospect. So did Arty. Hagrid thought he might retch.
Arty Zoof turned about looking pale and beckoned for Hagrid, seemingly terrified of approaching the beast. Arty was going to return to Azkaban Island where an escort of goblins awaited, having offered their services in securing the beast for the price of a bit of gold, using equpment generally reserved for capturing the Gringotts dragons who guarded the deepest vaults.
"Wouldn'ta thought the goblins would be keen on helpin' wizard folk, at any rate,"replied Hagrid, watching the prowling manticore out of the corner of his eye.
Arty shrugged, then seemed to grow darkly serious. "Can't say they've got much reason to. Aren't many of us left now who can see eye-to-eye with 'em. S'far as I know, you're the only wizard I know what can see the good in the most vicious monsters. You and Dumbledore."
Hagrid was momentarily befuddled, before he embraced Artie around the middle, tears threatening to stream from his eyes. It occurred to him that Zoof, too, had never seen Hagrid as anything but the wizard he was, but Hagrid didn't think himself nearly articulate enough to say it outright.
Arty stumbled out of the monstrous hug, looking slightly ruffled. "Take care, Rubeus. I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Aragog'". He brushed off his robes and Transformed, scurrying away from Hagrid's booted feet.
There was a tremendous roar, and Hagrid realized that he had forgotten the manticore. He turned about and saw it diving through the air, right at Zoof. The manticore landed not feet from where Hagrid stood and it eyed the squirrel now racing up the fissure wall with hunger. Its great stinger lashed out and struck the squirrel right in the middle, and with one deft motion plucked it from the wall and right into the manticore's mouth.
Hagrid stood watching the ravenous beast lick its lip, and then, with a cry, pulled the umbrella from his coat pocket. The manticore began to croon very softly, and Hagrid knew that a squirrel could hardly satiate such an enormous beast. He turned quickly and Apparated outside Hogwart's gates. It hadn't taken long to explain what had happened to Dumbledore, and the Headmaster, great man, had assured him that it would all be okay, just as he had when Hagrid had been expelled from Hogwarts. He tried not to remember that that hadn't ended very well, even with Dumbledore's help.
The Wizengamot, however, was quite lenient with Hagrid. "The hapless manticore," Albus Dumbledore had explained, "was acting only upon its own uncontrollable instincts. It killed and - " here Dumbledore grimaced " - consumed Mr. Artimus Zoof. Rubeus surely would not have made use of Apparition unless he were presented no other alternative." When the Wizengamot began pressing Hagrid about the manticore's whereabouts, he told them that he figured it had gone off.
The Minister had not liked it much, but the Wizengamot itself had been convinced. The entire ordeal was therefore immediately forgotten.
Hagrid returned to Hogwarts, realizing for the very first time that he could see the thestrals. Beautiful creatures, he thought, marvelous, wondering beasts. Black and emaciated-looking animals, winged and dark but oddly would have loved them, Hagrid thought, but then he remembered that if Arty were there, the thestrals would have remained invisible, and he promptly tried not to think about that anymore.
For a time, Rubeus Hagrid was sullen, spending long hours in his hut pondering the cruel motives of Death, and how it had stolen both his father and friend from his clutches. Neither the star-gazing centaurs (or Firenze, rather, for the rest were far from pleasant) nor the Headmaster's assurances seemed able to help him, but after a time he was the jovial Rubeus Hagrid of old once more. Life was normal again (or as normal as it could be for a half-giant living in a hut by the Forbidden Forest). He laughed and drank and remembered old times, and once in a while did favors for Dumbledore.
He certainly missed Artimus Zoof. He wouldn't have a friend like Arty until he met Harry Potter many years later, and that friendship was hardly the same sort of thing.
Yes, he missed Arty Zoof terribly.
But he never did tell the Ministry where the manticore was hiding.
And every once in a while, when he alone and had only a cuppa to keep him company, he wondered whether the poor beastie who'd killed his friend was finally eating right.