The first day of term was much less busy than usual for Aziraphale and Crowley, who found they had no lessons that morning. Crowley wanted to go back to bed, but Aziraphale decided they were going to Hagrid's. As well as wanting to make a friendly visit to their giant friend, he also wanted information on Dementors, and Sirius Black. Hagrid had been to Azkaban last year, so he felt that he would be the best person to get information from.

The air was pleasantly warm, and still smelling of summer as they walked down the lawn to Hagrid's hut. A few sixth years were spending their first free period relaxing by the lake, feeding sausages from breakfast to the giant squid. Hagrid was outside his hut, feeding his new roosters, which had been replaced during the holidays (according to Hagrid's letter, which had been mostly legible). He waved as Crowley and Aziraphale approached, the former yawning widely.

"Professor Fell, Professor Crowley," Hagrid greeted them, "how were your summers?"

"Dull," Crowley replied grumpily.

"How about yours?" Aziraphale cut in quickly, giving Crowley a warning look. Maybe it had been a mistake to force the demon to come with him.

Luckily Crowley cheered up a bit over a cup of tea, while Aziraphale made small-talk with Hagrid, trying to find a way to ask what he wanted.

"Well," Hagrid was saying, "this year'll be different won't it, what with those dementors an' all." He shuddered.

"They're not nice are they?" Aziraphale agreed, casually stirring his tea, "still, if they get Sirius Black back in Azkaban it will be worth it I suppose."

"I'm not sure about that," Hagrid said grimly, "Don't think I'd wish those things on anyone, even Sirius Black. They suck the happiness out of a place, feed off it."

"Azkaban must be awful."

"Most go mad within a few days," Hagrid stared into his mug as if he were talking to the tea inside, "there's no escapin', too much despair."

"But Black did escape," Aziraphale felt he was getting close now, maybe Hagrid could offer some clue as to how Sirius Black had done it.

"Well, he's the first," Hagrid said, "and the last. Security'll get even tighter, once they get him back."

"How do you think he did it?"

"Dunno. Nobody knows, not even Dumbledore seems to have any idea. Some reckon his master helped him," Hagrid's voice had lowered to a gruff whisper. There was fear in his eyes, which had lost their merry sparkle.

Aziraphale didn't even feel disappointed in the lack of information. His stomach had turned to ice at the scared expression on Hagrid's face. If the dementors could do that to Hagrid…

He changed the subject.

"Quidditch season starting soon?"

"Yeah," Hagrid replied after only a second's hesitation, looking relieved, "Reckon this'll be the year that Gryffindor take the Quidditch cup."

…

They left Hagrid's hut soon after, after a conversation about the upcoming Quidditch matches which even Crowley joined in. However, the prospect of the dementors still hung over them, and Aziraphale thought about them with growing dread; he could now easily understand even better why Dumbledore didn't want those things at a school.

Crowley nudged him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Look."

Lupin was strolling down the lawn, in the opposite direction to them, heading for the Forbidden Forest. He hurried over, smiling in greeting.

"Hello," Aziraphale said, "visiting Hagrid too?"

"Yes, he's keeping some Hippogriffs for me to show to the fourth years tomorrow," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the trees, "down by the forest. I thought I'd see how they were getting on. They can take a while to acclimatise you know. Though I'm sure Hagrid's doing a good job with them, he knows a lot about magical creatures."

"Hippogriffs?" Crowley sounded interested.

Aziraphale looked at him in confusion.

"You leave your books lying around," he said, "and I get bored waiting for you to pick out which scarf you want to wear."

Lupin looked between the two, bemused, before recovering himself.

"You're welcome to come and see them, if you have time that is."

"We'd love too," Aziraphale said. This was the first time Crowley had admitted to taking an interest in one of his books and he wasn't going to waste the occasion.

The hippogriffs were large, feathered and distinctly lethal looking. Aziraphale gulped, on seeing their sharp beaks and menacing golden eyes. Crowley looked fascinated, despite trying to hide it. Aziraphale supposed he had seen much worse in hell. He rarely asked the demon exactly what it was like down there, and Crowley rarely asked him much about heaven. It was easier to pretend both places didn't exist. Lupin was already striding forward, bowing low in front of one of the beasts and looking it carefully in the eye as he waited for its response.

There was a moment of tension, in which both Aziraphale and Crowley watched the hippogriff intently. Then it bowed. Lupin looked round, patting the hippogriff on the neck.

"This is Buckbeak."

He gestured for them to introduce themselves to the hippogriffs too. Crowley at once made his way over to a terrifying creature with ebony wings spread out warningly. Crowley bowed, and so, surprisingly, did the hippogriff. Aziraphale reluctantly stepped forward too. He had read many books about magical creatures, and even met a few hippogriffs in his lifetime. This would be fine.

He bowed to a gleaming bronze hippogriff, which looked to him, the friendliest. Its sharp eyes seemed to bore into him as he bowed low. Fortunately for him, it too bowed, with only a second's hesitation, and Aziraphale reached out to pat its shining neck, surprised to feel warmth and soft feathers beneath his fingers.

"So," he asked, still stroking the hippogriff gently, "are you planning to show these to the third years?"

"Not today," Lupin said, "their first lesson and all. I was planning to look at boggarts, since they have already learnt about them in Defence Against the Dark Arts, so they'll know what they're doing."

"Have you found a boggart then?" Crowley asked, from where his hippogriff was trying to remove his sunglasses. Aziraphale was surprised the hippogriff had trusted Crowley with them on. He was surprised that the demon was trusting the hippogriff to be so close to his face. Crowley didn't like horses.

"We couldn't get one for a practical demonstration," he added, "we could only teach the theory."

"Which really isn't the same," Crowley frowned, and Lupin nodded in agreement.

"Students need to know how to defend themselves in practice," he said.

"Except with something like werewolves," Aziraphale commented.

"I don't know," Crowley grinned, "it might be fun."

Lupin was silent. Aziraphale looked over in concern. He was white as a sheet, staring hard at the ground.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," Lupin looked up with a smile that was more of a grimace, "shall we go back to the castle?"

As they walked to the castle, Lupin seemed his old self again, but Aziraphale got the feeling he'd hit a nerve. What about werewolves had upset Lupin so much? Perhaps a member of his family had been killed by a werewolf in the war. They had taken Voldemort's side, and some, like Fenrir Greyback, had been particularly ruthless. Aziraphale made a note not to mention it again.

Crowley had hardly noticed Lupin's white face. He was thinking about the hippogriffs. Crowley had heard of them, back in the 1500s, whilst working in the court of Henry the eighth. That had not been a good year. Marrying off that poor German princess to Henry the eighth. He had read a poem about the hippogriff, and at the time, it had cheered him up, if only because it was so ridiculous. Somehow, meeting one, it felt special. They reached the castle soon enough, and parted ways with Lupin, heading off to the staff room.

…

Professor McGonagall was the only one in there, and she looked very disgruntled. She was muttering as she cleared papers off a table.

"A Grimm, ridiculous. And with that man after him, probably feeling terrified. Dementors everywhere, what happened on the train…"

She trailed off, seeing Aziraphale and Crowley in the doorway.

"A Grimm?" Aziraphale asked then, as McGonagall gave him a murderous look, "Sorry, I couldn't help over hearing."

Professor McGonagall sighed, looking tired and stressed, not angry.

"It's Professor Trelawny," she explained, looking as though she would love to use some particularly colourful language to describe her colleague, "she likes to, predict death omens, when she gets a new class," she sighed again, "and today, she decided, to see a Grimm, in Harry's teacup. I just don't know why she thinks the poor boy deserves to feel any more on edge than he already does. What with these dementors around, and Sirius Black on the loose."

"Professor Trelawny?" Crowley had honestly forgotten she existed. She never left her tower, except to visit the kitchen, where there was a decent supply of cooking sherry. Even Crowley would never stoop that low.

"What was she thinking, frightening Harry like that?" Aziraphale asked, "he doesn't need everyone waiting for him to drop dead, especially after last year."

Last year most of the school had been terrified of Harry, thinking he was the heir of Slytherin, this year, everyone was going to think he was destined to die. Crowley wondered if they should see if Harry was alright, or if that would be a bit odd. He decided that in his next class with the third year, he would remind them that everyone was going to die eventually, Harry wasn't special. That would be helpful. Probably.

"I have no idea," McGonagall shook her head in exasperation, "she's very…dramatic."

She could say that again.

"Anyway," the professor added, "Dumbledore wanted to see you two in his office."

Sorry, quite a short chapter this week, but I have big plans for next week, I promise. Hope everyone is still reading!