Disclaimer – JKR owns the world and all the characters from the books. I'm just building a few castles in her sandbox.

Chapter 5

Over the course of the next two weeks, Malcolm found himself revising his opinion of Hagrid. Professor Hagrid. The man looked like he needed his own postal district, and he talked like a bit player from some wonky Victorian melodrama, but he actually knew his creatures.

Of course, Malcolm reflected, it was probably a little easier to handle what most people considered monsters if you were as big as a house.

Hagrid's hut looked messy and unkempt, but he actually knew where everything was. Malcolm was also surprised at how efficiently the man used the byproducts of his charges to take care of his responsibilities. He spent most of an afternoon in the unicorn glade, after Hagrid had asked him some embarrassing personal to questions to ensure they would tolerate Malcolm's presence, using a magnifying glass and tweezers to gather stray unicorn hairs from the vegetation. Not only did the hairs make bandage bindings that prevented infection, but the best samples were purchased by Ollivander for wand cores. Hagrid usually spent this money at the apothecary to purchase medicines and potion ingredients to care for his charges. He even had a small cauldron concealed in a back nook of his kitchen.

"Don't like ter bother Professor Snape fer simple things I can brew fer myself," he explained ducking his head. Hagrid seemed a little embarrassed by that, like he was doing something he shouldn't have been, but Malcolm didn't press. He was treated fairly and Hagrid never hesitated to explain what they needed to do and why. The man seemed to enjoy teaching so much that he couldn't help it, like it was a sacred vocation. Malcolm recalled the sour-faced tutor employed at the embassy and shuddered. Compared to her, chipping a tooth on a rock cake and getting slobbered on by an enormous boar hound was nothing.

As awkward and unfamiliar as he found the work, Malcolm was surprised to find that he enjoyed it. He couldn't remember ever getting to spend a lot of time in the country, and the Forbidden Forest was always showing him new sights, sounds, and smells every day. His boss was also a natural teacher, who enjoyed talking about his charges so much that Malcolm was disappointed to learn that Care of Magical Creatures was not offered to first year students.

"Not that you'll have a lot of trouble when ye do take it, Malcolm, yer a natural, you are," Hagrid reassured him. Malcolm hadn't been trying to wind him up, but letting Hagrid know he was looking forward to his class had pleased the man to no end. It also led to him working with some of the more… exotic of the man's charges. Surprisingly enough, there were some things Malcolm was a great help with. Smaller fingers meant for smaller knots and neater bandages when one of the thestrals scraped its hind leg. Hagrid looked a little surprised when he asked if Malcolm could see the bizarre horse-like creature okay. When Malcolm nodded, Hagrid made a sad face that was equally confusing.

"So ye've had some healer training then?" Hagrid asked as he finished.

"I took a first aid course. Nigel said it could prove handy… er," Malcolm closed his mouth and looked away.

"Ah. Well," Hagrid looked uncomfortable. "Th' really interesting thing about thestrals is that most people can't see em' at all."

"They're invisible?" Malcolm asked in confusion.

"Sort of. Well, ye can only see a thestral if you've seen someone, er, pass away, like."

Malcolm nodded. "I suppose I'm triply qualified then," he said bitterly.

Hagrid's eyes widened, and Malcolm was embarrassed to see tears start to well up in the beetle-black orbs.

Malcolm shrugged. "Before I got my letter, my father and I were at the British Embassy in Yemen. There was a car bomb," he stopped when Hagrid frowned in confusion. "A muggle explosive device. A very powerful one. When it went off it killed my father and about half the protective detail. I was lucky to escape with a couple of scrapes and bruises. Nigel, he…" Malcolm swallowed. "Anyway, they pretty much died right in front of me, so I suppose that qualifies me."

Hagrid didn't say anything, but managed to pat Malcolm's shoulder awkwardly, but without his usual jarring force.

It was halfway through his second week at Hogwarts and Malcolm was just settling down to sleep when there was a loud knock at his door.

"Er, hello?" was his articulate reply. He rubbed at his eyes, grainy from reading ahead for his classes.

"Malcolm, lad, I could use yer help," Hagrid's deep bass voice was distinctive, even through the door, but he sounded strange, almost… anxious?

Malcolm pulled his boots back on and pulled the door open.

The gigantic professor filled the corridor, but seemed somehow diminished. He had an anxious expression on his face was twisting his hands together as rain dripped off his hair and his coat.

"What's wrong?" Malcolm asked.

"It's the Ember, she's gone inter labor, but it's way too soon. Madame Pomfrey is at Diagon Alley picking up medical supplies and I need some help. Ye've got good hands, Malcolm, and I'm afraid were going tae lose th' whole litter."

Ember was a Firehound, or Hellhound as they were also known, a rare species of fire-breathing canine that had been been sent to Hogwarts from some place in Europe called Durmstrang. Hagrid had been particularly proud of her, and the rare species exchange program he and Dumbledore had set up with some other schools that had magical creature preserves. The professor seemed to have a positive mania for anything that breathed fire. They'd checked on her only a day earlier, and while she was obviously carrying a litter, she hadn't been in any visible distress.

Malcolm pulled a ratty old jumper out of his wardrobe and yanked it over his head. It was dark out and rainy, and the nights were already starting to chill. "Where is she?" he asked.

Hagrid nodded and led him out into the night.

When the dawn slowly warmed the sky, Malcolm flexed his frozen fingers and sighed. Hagrid shook his head and snapped out of his reverie.

"Ye did all ye could, lad. Weren't nothing tae be done fer it." Despite his words, Hargid's face was still etched with grief.

Malcolm wasn't sure what had triggered the early labor. Ember had a very difficult time, and in the end, the Firehound seemed to just run out of energy. He wondered if the early labor had killed her, or if there was something else wrong and she'd merely been trying to give her puppies at least a slim chance at life. In the end, her breathing had gone harsh and then her eyes glazed over and the warmth that she'd been radiating all night had suddenly cut off.

Every puppy that had emerged had done so cold and limp. Despite everything he and Hagrid tried, none of them responded or showed any sign of life. Malcolm had spent the night, with Hagrid's instructions, trying to ease the tiny offspring out, but nothing seemed to make a difference. Each one was unmoving. Dead as their mother. He actually had his hand inside, hoping the last one would revive, when Ember gave up the fight.

He shuddered and felt a prickling at his eyes as tears of frustration and rage threatened to spill. He'd spent all bloody night and it hadn't made any difference.

We went very still as he felt something move against his fingertips.

"Hagrid!"

"I'm sorry I drug ye out here lad, I shouldna' a… didn't make no difference. I…"

"Hagrid, I feel something moving. Can you, well, push a bit?"

Hagrid's eyes went wide and he complied. After a few hectic moments Malcolm had the last puppy in his hands. It lay as still and silent as its mother and he wondered if he'd imagined the movement he'd felt earlier. He opened his mouth to speak and a scrap of pink tongue appeared at the end of the tiny muzzle.

"Hagrid!" he said as he laid a trembling forefinger against the puppy's flank. A thready pulse raced under the wet skin and he felt warmth begin to radiate from the tiny body.

An enormous wet sniff was his only reply and he saw Hagrid barely able to hold back tears. "Poor little thing. Lost 'is mother, just like 'arry," he said, his voice trailing off. He shook himself. "We'll need tae feed it up or it won't have a chance. Hold 'im close, Malcolm and I'll get some warm milk from th' house elves. Going tae have ter mix it with lamp oil, about four parts ter one, tae get 'im tae take it. I'll be right back, jes' keep 'im warm, lad." Hagrid left the enclosure at a dead run, his footfalls shaking drops from the trees.

Malcolm returned his attention to the pup as the crashing noises receded. He could feel the small body start to shake, and it cringed as a fat drop of water struck its shoulder. The sleek coat was still damp, and that couldn't be helping, so he cradled the small body against his stomach as he pulled the jumper over his head. He awkwardly got it wrapped around the newborn and used a rough sleeve to wipe it clean. The fur fluffed up a bit, and proved to be as fine as silk. Malcolm bundled it up in the jumper and leaned back against a tree, barely noticing the wet bark soaking through his tee-shirt. The mass in his arms was starting to radiate gentle warmth, making him stare down at it. He left the newborn's face uncovered to make sure it didn't smother, and he swore he saw the eyelid twitch a moment, revealing a brilliant green glow, before the head eased back. Malcolm panicked for a moment, but the slow steady breaths continued.

Hagrid returned to find Malcolm almost asleep against the tree. At first, they couldn't get the puppy to try the greasy mixture of milk and oil he brought in the mug. Finally, Malcolm dipped his finger in the mess and began rubbing the tip over the tiny muzzle. After a moment, he felt the rough tongue move against his finger and the puppy seemed to rouse. He repeated this until the hellhound was actively sucking Hagrid's formula off the end of Malcolm's finger. The sun was well up before their patient seemed to tire and drifted off to sleep with an almost inaudible burp.

Hargid let out a pleased rumble and Malcolm looked up at his boss, wincing as his neck muscles let him know just how annoyed they were.

"Ye look pretty well knackered, Malcolm. Get back on up tae th' castle an' get some sleep. Madame Pomfrey'll hex me if she sees ye in this state."

Malcolm blinked and handed Hagrid the bundle. He awkwardly climbed to his feet, feeling pins and needles throughout his legs. He started stumbling toward the castle, wondering if he'd missed lunch, when Hagrid's voice stopped him.

"Malcolm," he rumbled, looking down at the black head sticking out of the rolled up jumper, "lil' feller wouldn't ha' made it if it hadn't been fer ye. Thank ye."

Malcolm nodded and smiled. He turned and walked through the warm sunshine to the castle.