"Another pint o' mulled mead, I think, Rosmerta," called Hagrid cheerily from his booth. Madam Rosmerta looked up from where she stood behind the bar and gave him a stern look.

"I think you may have had enough, Rubeus," she said, in a disapproving, yet fond, voice.

"Right yeh are," said Hagrid, as this was the third time he'd asked, each time eliciting the same response. He stood up. "Reckon it's abou' time to pay a visit to the Hog's Head, then, don' you?"

Madam Rosmerta tutted, but was helpless to stop him leaving, what with him being two of three times the size of her. Hagrid wasn't likely to cause any trouble anyway.

He stumbled out of the door and found himself in the street, not knowing which way to go. Was the Hog's Head to the left or the right? He'd visited it many times before but he was drunk, and it was dark, and Hagrid had his suspicions that someone had flipped the world back to front. Feeling along the walls of buildings, he wandered around the town, mumbling directions to himself. Late-night towngoers and passers-by were not oblivious to the tipsy half-giant shuffling by, but most of them paid him no attention – there were far stranger things in Hogsmeade.

Hagrid eventually made it to the Hog's Head, and after a loop around the village in the cold air he'd sobered up, but only slightly.

"'Lo, Aberforth," he greeted the barman, who gave him a surly nod in response and lifted a dust-coated glass, serving Hagrid his usual.

The Hog's Head was unusually busy that night, and there was very little room to sit down. However, Hagrid's immense size provided a little bit of leverage in that department. People tended to move out of the way as he neared. The only ones who didn't were usually more intimidating creatures than he: goblins and hags and mummies and minotaurs.

And one scruffy-looking man with a three-headed puppy on a lead and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He remained firmly rooted to his seat, staring hard at a glass and a bottle of wine. At short intervals, he would lift the bottle to fill the glass. He'd then lift the glass and drain it, and replace it on the table. He'd take a break, staring, then repeat the process. One of the puppy's heads was sniffing the bottom of the seat. Another was looking around the bar, straining to break free from the little chain that tied it to the leg of the table. The third was taking a nap. Curious, Hagrid approached the table and knelt down to pet the animal.

"Oh, he's a beauty, aren' yeh, little fella?"

"Eh?" said the man, startled, looking to where Hagrid was kneeling. "Oh, yes. I suppose he is. D'you want him?" The man was Irish, and didn't seem to care much for the dog. In fact, he seemed eager to be rid of it. Hagrid stood up, blocking most of the light. The man stared up at him, taking his cigarette from his mouth and clumsily stubbing it out on the table.

"Wan' him?" said Hagrid. "Wha' d'yeh mean wan' him?

"Well, you can have him if you like," said the man, blinking as though trying to get his eyes adjusted to the new darkness, although this was somewhat of a delayed reaction.

"How much d'yeh wan' for him?" asked Hagrid, taking this as an invitation to sit down.

"Want for what?" asked the man.

"For the dog," said Hagrid, then, "Wha's his name?"

"Name?" said the man. "Eh? Oh. Bernard. Bernard Black." He held out a hand. Hagrid took it in his. They shook.

"What abou' the dog?" asked Hagrid.

"Yeah, he's there too," said Bernard disdainfully, looking down at the creature, one of whose heads was gnawing on his shoe.

"No, I mean, wha's the little fella's name?"

"I don't know," said Bernard. "What's your name?"

"Rubeus Hagrid," said Hagrid, "keeper of grounds and keys at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" said Bernard. "What's that? What?" He shouted the last word, looking around in a panic as though he'd heard a gunshot.

"Wha'?" Hagrid repeated, following Bernard's eye line.

"Oh," said Bernard, "nothing. What were you saying, now, Bernard?"

"No, I'm Hagrid," said Hagrid.

"Ah, yes," said Bernard. "And you were interested in buying a warthog from me? I'm… really sorry." He hiccupped. "I don't have a warthog at this present time. Would you like a…" He paused, and looked down at his dog. "I could give you a dog, would you like one of those?"

"I would," said Hagrid eagerly.

"Would what?"

"Like a dog."

"So would I but I don't think we can spilt this one three ways."

"Oh," said Hagrid, disappointed. There was a sad, heavy pause, as they both looked into their drinks. Hagrid thought about the dog, and about how much he'd like it, and about how a third of it wouldn't really be sufficient. Then he came up with a plan. "How abou' I take the whole dog off yer hands?" he suggested hopefully.

"Oh, no. No, no… no, no, no," said Bernard, tripping over the words. "No. He is… he is not in my hands, he is at my feet."

"Oh," said Hagrid, disappointed once more.

"HIS NAME'S BUBBLES!" yelled Bernard suddenly, and with vehemence.

"Wha'?" said Hagrid, startled.

"Oh, no, pardon me," said Bernard, massaging his temples. "That was… that was the fish." He reached slowly into his pocket and lifted out a limp, lifeless goldfish. Hagrid looked at it in horror. "I think he's sleeping," mumbled Bernard, poking it. "C'mon little fishie. Wake up. Someone wants to see you."

"No, no, I'm here abou' the dog," said Hagrid.

"Oh yes," said Bernard, tossing the fish over his shoulder. "And how much… how much are you willing to give to me… in the way of… money, and such?"

"Er, oh, I dunno," said Hagrid, scratching his head as he thought about it. "Er, how much have I go'?" ("I dunno," sniggered Bernard.) He reached into his pockets and pulled out handfuls of gold, which he'd won in various card games and which he always carried with him to pubs, just in case. "I'd say abou', oh, I dunno, say, twen'y-five Galleons?"

"What?" Bernard slammed a fist on the table. "That's outrageous! I'm not… I'm not paying that much money for… for a whole dog, let alone a – a third of a dog. I don't…" He held his arms out in the direction of the dog helplessly. "I don't even want the thing in the first place."

"Oh righ'," said Hagrid, and resumed thought again. "I could give yeh this money, though," he suggested, pushing the money towards Bernard, "and you could give me the dog for tha'."

"Oh, yes," mumbled Bernard, pulling the gold towards him, then bending down to lift the puppy up from the floor. The creature wriggled and one of its heads gnawed on his fingers. "Here." He held the dog across the table so that Hagrid could reach it. "Touch that. Touch it." Hagrid did. He petted each of the dog's heads in turn. "You like that?" asked Bernard. "That's…" He hiccupped again. "That's real dog, that is."

"Can I take him now?" asked Hagrid, whose eyes were filling up with tears, so overcome with emotion was he. Here was a tiny puppy with its whole life ahead, and he would have the joy of bringing it up and teaching it the ways of the magical world.

"Yes," said Bernard, dumping him on the table. "Now, just, where did I put him?" He turned around in his seat, narrowing his eyes, looking across the dull bar, searching for something he'd dropped.

"Where did yeh pu' wha'?" asked Hagrid, burying in face in the puppy's fur as it bit his nose.

"The fish! Oh, Manny, will you pay attention!" yelled Bernard, turning around and slamming his fist on the table, glaring at Hagrid. "Oh, Manny, you're huge," he added. "What's wrong?"

"Nuthin'," shrugged Hagrid. "Who's Manny then?"

"I don't know," said Bernard, shrugging and making a facial expression that suggested anyone having the name 'Manny' was surely absurd. "Maybe the dog?"

"Is tha' his name?" asked Hagrid.

"No," said Bernard. "Listen, do you want this dog or not?"

"I've already go' him, haven' I?" asked Hagrid, puzzled.

"Oh yes," said Bernard. "Very good. Hooray!" he cried enthusiastically, throwing his arms in the air and causing his chair to topple backwards.

"Oh no!" Hagrid stood up, dog under one arm, and hurried around to the other side of the table to make sure Bernard was okay. "Yeh alrigh'?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," said Bernard, taking the hand Hagrid offered him in order to prop himself up. "Where did I put my cigarette?" He felt about the floor for it, and then, when he couldn't find it, pulled another one from his pocket, and lit it, and sat smoking it on the pub floor, leaning on the overturned chair.

"Well, I best be off," said Hagrid, indicating the puppy under his arm and kissing each of its three noses. "Got to make a bed for this little thing tonigh, don' I?" Bernard shrugged, as though he didn't know and couldn't care. Hagrid nodded to him genially, then turned to go, but, "Hang on a minu'," he said, turning back. "Black? Yeh wouldn' be anythin' ter Sirius Black, now, would yeh?" he asked in a hushed voice, knowing that Sirius didn't have the best name among the wizarding community at the time. Bernard shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not," he said nonchalantly. "The point is that…" He took another drag of his cigarette. "Er, the point is… Well, I forget what it is, but you get the idea. You could probably just make it up."

"'Course," said Hagrid, as though people often suggested this.

"Yeah," shrugged Bernard, "no point in worrying about it now. It's dead and gone! Dead and gone!"

"Exactly," agreed Hagrid, and stumbled out of the bar, taking the dog with him.

Bernard sat for a while longer, until he'd finished his cigarette, then looked around him in some confusion. "Hang on a minute!" he cried, though no-one paid him any attention. "Wait, wait, wait! Someone's stolen Fluffy!"