Chapter 2: Domestication

Despite the wariness that should always be maintained upon such encounters, foxlet gliders appear, if nothing else, to be relatively harmless in their juvenile state. Of an approachable countenance, coupled with their diminutive size and the general impression of dainty fragility, in the early fourteenth century immature offspring bred in captivity were often kept alongside kneazles and crups as domestic pets. Given their greater expense and the relative rareness of their availability, however, such acquisitions were in possession of those of wealthier class. Many of the peasantry or even middling class saw little of such creatures in their households.

However, though possession of the foxlet gliders in the past is nothing of particular note, it should be recalled that such practices ceased before the instillation of precautionary measures for potentially dangerous magical creatures.

Stepping out into the crisp morning air, Harry took a deep breath. It wasn't cold enough for that breath to plume in much more than a faint haze before his face when he released it but it wouldn't be far off before the air chilled enough that it thickly cloud. Instead, an invigorating cleanliness flooded his lungs, chasing away the last of the grogginess from his eyes. He set off at a brisk pace across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut.

"Harry, mate, slow down." The sound of Ron's voice called after him, a near whine as though questioning what fates would possibly land him with such a disagreeable friend as to set a rapid pace so early in the morning. He was a late sleeper, was Ron, and it was barely seven o'clock, the sun only just climbed over the horizon. Maybe in another time Harry would have been grumbling alongside his friend.

Not now, though. Harry didn't sleep all that well anymore nowadays.

"On the contrary, Ron," Hermione's voice followed seconds later. "It's you who should speed up. We can't be late to class on the first day. We have a -"

"Reputation to uphold, I know," Ron sighed. "Although, if I was sticking to my reputation, I would be late."

Harry smiled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The banter of his friends continued behind him, with Hermione reprimanding Ron for his layabout behaviour while Ron scolded her in turn with the reminder that "term had only just started" and "there would be time for obsessive study habits when NEWTs finally came around". That, at least, Harry could agree with, even if he did simultaneously agree with Hermione's sentiment. They did have a reputation to uphold, as eighth years if nothing else. As war veterans on top of that.

Harry had tried to escape such expectations. He really had. It was one of the main reasons he'd decided to return to Hogwarts to complete his studies. He was not particularly academically inclined - he never had been in anything besides Defence Against the Dark Arts - but it was that or face the real world. The world who saw his as a hero, as their Saviour.

Harry felt he'd had enough of being a saviour. He was even questioning his consideration of becoming an Auror, something he'd yet to voice to his friends. He was just... done. Done with all of the fighting.

So Harry came to Hogwarts. Hermione was always going to return to pass her NEWTs , even though both Harry and Ron had professed on numerous occasions how she was so smart that she should just be given her marks straight off the bat. Ron, still inclined towards becoming an Auror himself, had grumbled and complained but had eventually followed with the admission that he didn't want to jump straight into training all by himself.

Harry found he'd missed Hogwarts. He'd missed the isolation of the high-Scotland location, the slow pace, the mild ambiance of the scenery that seemed magical itself even without visual evidence of such. Even the memory of the war, of the battle that had raged upon the grounds themselves, seemed to have faded somewhat. Harry was surprised at that; he'd thought that the sight of the simple castle would rebirth painful memories, would invoke a repeat performance of what had happened with the thestrals the previous night.

It hadn't. Hogwarts was just... Hogwarts. It had been repaired over the months since the war had ended, was returned to the picture-perfect scene it had once been. The same school, the same castle, the same home that Harry had known for years. He found that such a realisation seemed to expel even the negative thoughts that accompanied unfavourable memories. If anything had changed it was the people, the students and the professors. They were the ones who remembered, who had changed. They were the ones who needed Harry to be the hero.

Even after only a night of it, Harry found that striding into the wide, open and utterly empty grounds was liberating. It was an escape.

Following Harry's lead, they descended towards Hagrid's cabin at a consistently quick step, trekking the same path they had for so many years. That was comforting too, at least to Harry, just as was the little stone cabin, the smoke puffing from its chimney, the vegetable patch spread before it and the neat little fencing that Harry knew had been felled in the war yet had been replaced as though it was never gone. He stepped up to Hagrid's door and pounded a fist against the hardwood. It always needed a solid knock; the wood was that thick, that sturdy. Funny, how even the door reminded Harry of Hagrid himself.

At the sound of Fang's barking met his knock and at the following, "Outta the way, yeh ruddy thing", Harry shared a smile over his shoulder with Ron and Hermione. The same. The very same. That little piece of perfect was comforting too as the door swung inwards a moment later.

Hagrid stood still nearly twice as tall as them all still, even Ron, despite the fact that Harry suspected they had all largely reached their peak heights. He was already dressed for the day, though such dress was hidden beneath a flowery apron that looked to be more of a muumuu than anything else for its size. Hagrid was beaming, cheeks rosy above his dark beard, when he turned his beetle-eyed gaze upon him.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione. Thanks so much fer coming on down this morning. I really appreciate it, I have teh say." And with a sweeping gesture, shuffling backwards and grabbing the back of Fangs collar as the bloodhound made a break for them, he waved them inside.

Harry smiled in return, though he couldn't help but glance around himself curiously and with just a little apprehension when he did step through the doorway. Hagrid had asked them to come and visit him that morning in their brief exchange of the night before, moments before Hagrid had been distracted by the first years under his care at the platform. His exact words were "I want to show you somethin', wondered if I migh' be able to get yer help with it". Coming from a Care of Magical Creatures professor – or more specifically from Hagrid – such words didn't bode particularly well. If Harry hadn't cared for Hagrid himself quite so fiercely, then...

The interior of the cottage was the same as it always had been, however. Large but modest when compared to Hagrid's physical size. The oversized furniture, the patchwork of blankets strewn across an enormous bed pushed along one wall, the home-made table with so many pockmarks it looked as though it had been the victim of a gunfire. Harry loved it. He loved the fact that it was all exactly the same, down to the warmly crackling fire spluttering in the hearth.

Harry clambered onto one of the dining chairs alongside Ron and Hermione. It was and always would be a bit of a struggle given they were just a little too tall. Hagrid followed them, releasing Fang who, naturally, sped immediately to Ron in a fit of slobbering to shower him with affection. Hagrid stopped only briefly along the way his own seat to heave his massive kettle from where it hung suspended over the fire and clunked his way towards the table.

"Tea, all o' yeh?" He asked, already reaching for the pail-sized mugs before they'd had a chance to reply. "Sorry yeh've had the come down before breakfast and all. I've got some biscuits here I cooked up yesterday morning if yeh'd –"

"No," they all hastened to deter Hagrid in unison. Harry winced slightly at the abruptness, but any slight Hagrid may have perceived was likely dissuaded by Hermione's soothing, "Thank you anyway, Hagrid, but we'll be heading up to breakfast as soon as we're finished. We won't be able to stay for long, you know."

Her tone was faintly on the chiding side, and Hagrid nodded his head vigorously as he finished with pouring milk into their tea. "O'course. Wouldn't want teh be late fer yeh first day o' classes, now, would yeh?"

Hermione turned a pointed "see? I'm not the only one who thinks as much" glance towards Harry and Ron as she accepted the mug Hagrid offered her. Ron actually looked a little sheepish in contrast to his earlier objections, but Harry simply ignored her. He loved Hermione but he wasn't the one who was dating her. He had no obligation to demonstrate shame for his less-than-perfect commitment to schooling.

Instead he turned towards Hagrid. "Yeah, that's right," he said offhandedly, taking a sip of his tea – his very strong, very hot tea that Harry immediately resolved to partake as little of as possible. How had he forgotten about the tea? "We probably can't stay for long, so we should probably get a move on. But," speaking up slightly to override Hagrid's nodding attempts to jump into the conversation, he smiled. "How've you been, Hagrid?"

Hagrid had evidently been on the verge of leaping enthusiastically into whatever he had called them down to discuss, but at Harry's words he quelled the urge. The smile he turned upon Harry was broad but soft and affectionate. Maybe even a little sad. "I've been alrigh'. Getting the house all sorted and everythin' again and… and all." Hagrid shrugged and seemed to forcibly shunt aside whatever touch of melancholy had attempted to settle upon him. His smile widened further. "And just gettin' ready fer the school year and all. Should be good, exciting, getting back into classes. I've got a couple o' real treats this year, though Professor McGonagall – sorry, Headmistress McGonagall – was a little reluctant to be letting me have some o' them." He gave a fond chuckle as though the thought of potentially dangerous creatures upon school grounds was less concerning than the idea of a quidditch match. "But I got a few in. Should be a righ' treat."

Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione once more, seeing the same dubiousness he felt thinly veiled upon their faces. He didn't want to have to step in and instil some sense upon Hagrid's actions, but felt duty bound, as friend, eighth year and feebly upstanding student, to do so. "I'll bet," he murmured, though he didn't think that Hagrid even heard him.

Instead, the half-giant turned his smile upon each of them in turn. "What about yeh all? Didn't hear much o' yeh over the break. How yeh holdin' up?"

"Fine," they all said in unison, and it held as much abruptness and guilt as their previously synchronised declination of Hagrid's proffered breakfast had. This time, Hagrid didn't seem as readily convinced, if the slight slipping of his smile was any indication.

They didn't want to talk about it. None of them wanted to talk about how they'd really been. How Ron had sunken into an unshakeable depression for a good month alongside most of the rest of his family after Fred's death, and that none of them – not Harry or Hermione either – were left anything but heartbroken by his death.

About how Hermione had only just managed to cease starting her mornings with a weeping session that was less open sobs and simply a cascade of silent tears that seemed simply unstoppable, or that she was far from being the only one. She at least managed to be productive and continue on with her morning while crying. George and Mrs Weasley hadn't managed quite as well.

Or of how Harry had developed something like insomniac tendencies, could rarely sleep more than a few hours a night if he managed to close his eyes for that long at all. About how he struggled with nightmares of Voldemort that had never afflicted him before the battle of Hogwarts, andhow he was haunted by the faces of the dead he couldn't save, that he had been to slow to prevent.

Too slow.

Harry didn't consider himself a saviour. Far from it, really. He had survived on pure luck more than anything else. Even his defeat of Voldemort had been a lucky succession of circumstances – that Draco Malfoy happened to have been the temporary owner of the Elder wand, that Harry happened to have managed to disarm him of his own wand and thence happened to have become the owner himself. All of it luck. It had been so close to being catastrophic. If only one thing had gone wrong…

But it hadn't. Harry had to keep reminding himself of that, over and over again. It had been a disaster, yes, but it could have been so much worse, too. So much worse. Reminding himself of that was more of a chanting mantra to Harry than any actual belief in his mental words – that it was over, that there was nothing more he could do about what had happened, that there was nothing more he could have done. If only he believed it himself.

They didn't talk about that. None of them spoke about it, not when Ron still seemed to fall into himself sometimes, removing himself entirely from those around him, or when Hermione woke afflicted by her morning grief. Not when his friends wandered down to the dining room of a morning and found Harry in exactly the same seat he'd been sitting in since he'd left. Harry didn't want to talk about it, not then and not now with Hagrid. So instead he attempted to draw a smile onto his face once more. It was a struggle he hoped Hagrid didn't perceive. "I spent most of the summer with Ron and his family actually. Their new place is coming along great, what with everyone chipping in."

"It's a bit bigger than the Burrow used to be," Ron added, and though he strove to impress some positivity into his words Harry heard the strain it took. He wasn't alone in missing the Burrow, was even less regretful than the rest of the Weasley family. No one spoke of it but the knew house just wasn't the same. Maybe it would grow on them but… it wasn't the same.

"Ah, that's good, then," Hagrid offered. "Be nice teh have a bit more space fer yeh all."

Ron nodded, seemed to take a heartening breath and make a more determined turn towards the positive. "Yeah, I reckon. I've done up my own room and everything this time. A bit bigger that one, too, and the roof isn't quite so low, so I'm happy."

"That's great, Ron," Hagrid beamed. Harry was almost convinced that the smile was entirely genuine when he turned towards Hermione. "And what about yeh, Hermione?"

Hermione fiddled with her mug for a moment before glancing towards Ron. "I was the same, really. Spent a bit of time at the Burrow, and… and went back home for a visit. Just to take a look around."

"Ah." Hagrid couldn't quite hide his awkwardness this time. "I'm sorry about that, Hermione. Must've been hard on yeh."

Hermione shrugged, her attempted smile wavering just slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it was. The neighbourhood looks all the same, and even Mrs Sanders from next door recognised me when I stopped by. She waved at me." Hermione paused, and such a reality evidently seemed to sadden more than bolster her. "I went in and had a look around – the renters have checked out and everything, so it was empty. All exactly the same as it was, but… the house just isn't the same without mum and dad in it…"

She trailed off for a moment and the heavy mood – the one they had all been resolutely denying the descent into – weighed upon them further. Ron wrapped a tentative and then suddenly sure arm around her shoulders that Hermione seemed to appreciate like a crutch, leaning into him for a moment as she stared at her mug. Seconds later, however, she appeared to make the concerted effort to shrug it off. Taking a heartening swig of tea that Harry was impressed to see she hardly grimaced at, Hermione continued. "But I've made plans to go to Australia. See what I can do about the Memory Charm I put on them and possibly reversing it."

"That's… that's great, Hermione!" Hagrid exclaimed with enthusiasm perhaps a little excessive, as though attempting to make up for the abrupt melancholy. Or maybe it really was warranted. Harry had known for weeks now of Hermione's intentions. He'd had time to acclimatise with the sheet largess of what she was hoping to achieve. Maybe he had been just as enthusiastic and admiring as Hagrid was initially. "Ah, that'd be great! When do yeh plan on goin' down under?"

Hermione's smile came a little more easily this time, though she still looked a little daunted, just as she did every time conversation of her parents and their Obliviate arose. "I'm hoping to make a trip in the Christmas break. I've had a bit of a scout around over the break – nothing much, not to actually talk to them or anything, but just to see how they were getting along –"

"Yeh, went to Australia over the break?"

"Yes, just for a couple of days."

"Nice down there?"

"I thought so."

"They've got a whole range o' magical creatures down there that aren't found anywhere else in the world, yeh know. Always wanted teh see bunyips in the wild instead o' in a zoo." Hagrid seemed to momentarily lose himself in wistfulness. "Love teh see them…"

"Well, you're more than welcome to come along with me, if you'd like, Hagrid," Hermione offered. "Ron's probably going to come –"

"Of course I'm coming," Ron immediately agreed.

"And maybe Harry if he'd like to –"

"Of course I'd like to," Harry similarly agreed.

Hermione smiled at them both gratefully before turning back to Hagrid. "We've already got a bit of a party coming along. One more addition to the international portkey won't be all that much more expensive."

"Yeah, you should come along, Hagrid," Ron pressed. "Maybe you could bring a drop bear or two back with you."

Hagrid was nodding at Hermione and grinning like a child in a candy shop, but at Ron's words he turned towards him with a reproving frown. "Now Ron, I thought we talked about drop bears in fourth year."

Ron smirked. "Yeah, I remember, I just –"

"No such thing as drop bears."

"Yeah, I remember, Hagrid, I only –"

"And if yeh keep sayin' they exist, people start teh believe they're true. They're koala's, Ron. Koala's."

"Yeah, Ron, they're koala's." Harry grinned, jostling Ron with his elbow. Ron only rolled his eyes and smirked back at him. At once, everything seemed to ease from the sorrowful mood that had briefly afflicted them.

"Shove off, Harry."

"Although, maybe koala's themselves are sort of a little magical," Harry continued. "Maybe you're justified in your viewpoint. We'll make a magical creatures enthusiast of you yet, Ron."

"Har Har, you're hilarious."

"I'm serious. Goodbye Auror career, hello zookeeping. I think you'd be more than capable, what with how much Fang seems to love you."

"On that note, though, Hagrid," Hermione interrupted their teasing and Ron's spluttering yet grinning objections to draw Hagrid's attention once more. "What was it you wanted us to come down here for? We assumed it was probably something about a magical creature?"

At Hermione's reminder, Hagrid started into standing in a screeching drag of his chair across the stone floor until he towered over them. "O' course! Yes, I wanted teh ask yeh all fer a favour with somethin'." Turning, he skirted around the table and crossed the room to his bedside. "So, I've got these lil' creatures that I'll be havin' my sixth years take a look at this year. Just lil' tods the lot o' them, and not all that much trouble, but the problem's that they need someone teh bond with. Someone's."

"Tods?" Ron asked.

"Bond?" Hermione said right on his tail.

"And what do you mean by 'someone's'?" Harry added, leaning sideways slightly in his seat to see what Hagrid was leaning over.

Hagrid didn't reply immediately to any of their queries. Instead, with the slowness of someone carrying something fragile, he rose from his crouch and turned towards them once more. In his arms was what appeared to be a basket, a cradle of sorts, shrouded in blankets. A big cradle, which wasn't altogether reassuring. Harry, Ron and Hermione hastened to clear the table as he approached them once more.

Settling the cradle upon the table, Hagrid rested a hand atop the blankets and turned towards them all with bright eyes. He appeared nothing if not a Muggle magician preparing to fling the draping blankets covering whatever hidden treasures had been placed underneath loose to reveal their absence beneath. He swept his gaze around them all and when he spoke it was in a deliberately hushed tone that from anyone else would have been a normal volume of speech. "Now, they might be a lil' hesitant teh poke their heads out and meet yeh – they tend teh be a bit on the sleepy side when they're just wakin' up, 'specially as they're not too good with the cold when they're lil'. But they're really not all that shy when they get teh know yeh."

"More's the problem, I'd wager," Ron muttered, but either Hagrid chose to ignore him or he was too engrossed in unfolding the blankets atop the basket as though it were a Christmas present. He looked just as excited as he would have had it truly been. More, even.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to look. He wasn't sure if he wanted to risk putting his face within striking distance of whatever creature Hagrid was choosing to show them. 'Little', Hagrid had said they were, but then he'd called Norbert the baby dragon little. He'd also said that McGonagall had been hesitant to allow him some of his requests that year, but even that wasn't altogether reassuring. Hagrid loved dangerous creatures, seemed to get his kicks out of caring for them, and the fondness he had turned upon the blanketed cradle was adoringly worrisome. That Ron and Hermione similarly took half a step back from the table suggested they thought the same as Harry.

Raising the blankets, Hagrid slid the cradle across the table towards them invitingly. Hesitantly, with sidelong stares exchanged with his friends, Harry leaned forwards slightly and peered inside.

And stared.

And…

"They're… small," Hermione said, her whispered words surprised.

"And… cute," Ron added, just as incredulous.

Harry blinked. He blinked in his own surprise and actually leaned forwards slightly further. Before him, in a tangle of white and grey and black fluff, were little creatures. Cute little creatures from what he could make out, just as Ron had said. He couldn't see all that much of them – just a wide, long, tampering ear twitching slightly, a small, pointed black nose, a little paw so small as to be no larger than a cats – but they were fluffy. And snuggling. And… and…

"They are cute," he found himself murmuring. Very surprisingly.

"They are at that, aren't they?"

At Hagrid's words, Harry drew his attention from… whatever they were towards him. Hagrid's eyes were crinkled with his smile so greatly that they were nearly hidden. He met Harry's eyes briefly before turning back down towards the tangle of fluffy fur and reaching out a stubby finger to stroke it. "Come on, yeh lot. Up and at 'em."

At his touch, the tangle twitched slightly and began to shiver with motion. Another paw poked out, a head turned so that two rather than one long, bat-like ear even larger than those of a house elf quivered in attentiveness. And slowly, the cluster began to rise to standing. And Harry thought that just this once Hagrid might have been correct in his adoration. They were truly very cute.

Wavering to standing, the three little creatures couldn't have been any larger than a kneazle. Smaller, even, and less sturdy, with the longer, finer limbs of the foxes they vaguely resembled. Long, fluffy fur shrouded them like duck down, from the almost constant pure white of one of them to the largely complete blackness of another and shades of grey in between. Pointed snouts tipped up from the mouth of the cradle, cavernous ears flicking forwards and wide black eyes that seemed to consume most of their little faces blinking hazily upwards. Harry actually heard an admittedly pathetic little "aw" sound from Ron as one of them, the blackest one, took a stumbling step forwards and nearly face-planted into the nest of blankets beneath them.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Hagrid crooned, the "aw" that Ron had uttered thick in his tone if unvoiced. For once Harry could actually agree with him.

"What are they, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, ever the questioner even if, Harry noticed, she didn't quite draw her gaze from the little creatures. "I've never seen anything like them before. Some sort of fox? They almost look like fennec foxes."

"They're Petaurus vulpes veraque's," Hagrid announced proudly, smiling down into the basket.

"What was that?" Ron asked blankly.

"Foxlet gliders."

"Oh!" Typically, it was Hermione who responded with anything more than further confusion. "I've heard of them!"

"Of course you have," Ron muttered.

Hermione ignored him in favour of frowning thoughtfully up at Hagrid. "I've never seen one before, though, and not really read anything more of them other than that they do exist."

"They're very rare." Hagrid nodded with solemnity that was lost entirely by the smile that seemed unshakeably affixed to his face. "Originally from down south, they are, from southern Europe and north Africa or thereabouts. But they're numbers have been dying down over the past centuries because o' the cities growin' larger and such." He seemed genuinely saddened by the idea, and even his smile died slightly.

Only slightly, however, and only for a second before Hagrid was beaming once more. "Which is why it was so lucky for me to get my hands upon them. Just a couple of lil' tods; their mother weren't too hail when she had them, so their breeder was more than happy to give 'em to me to rear."

"Tods…" Ron murmured again. He hadn't looked away from the 'tods' for an instant.

"What can we do to help, then, Hagrid?" Harry offered. For once he didn't actually feel particularly hesitant to offer his help. The tods – what were they called? Foxlet gliders? – had begun a woozily stumble towards the edge of the basket, towards Harry, Ron and Hermione with eyes upturned. Wide and unblinkingly, almost captivatingly. "We'll do what we can of course –"

"With the time that we have available,' Hermione hastened to add. "We are in our final year, remember, Hagrid." There was faint admonishment in her tone, but she didn't seem particularly aversive to the prospect of offering help either. Not really, if the softening of her gaze as she turned her attention back down to the foxlets was any indication.

"O' course, o' course," Hagrid nodded. "Just as much as yeh can spare. Only…" He reached forwards and petted one of them, the little gray one, upon its head. The creature barely looked up at him. "The problem is that they need to bond with someone – someone's – otherwise they're be… ah… stunted emotionally, if yeh understand my meaning."

"Stunted," Harry asked.

"They need a pair o' witches or wizards or what have yeh teh act sort of as their parent figures. Otherwise they won't have the stability the be able to develop socially properly. Sort o' like… like if a kid was neglected or some such."

If Harry had possessed any urge to retract his offer of assistance, Hagrid's words would have smote them to the ground. It hit just a little too close to home for him and, though he could hardly claim that he had been 'stunted' – or at least he didn't think he'd been – Harry couldn't very well let such a thing happen to someone else. Or something else, as the case may be with the foxlets.

"What do we do with them?" He asked.

"You said bonding," Ron continued, frowning slightly. He'd finally managed to draw his gaze from the fluffy fox creatures. "You mean like, what, like with Familiars?"

Hagrid shook his head. "No, no, not like that. When they reach maturity they won't have quite as much dependence. Sort of like real children, I suppose." He smiled at them fondly, which only served to make Harry feel slightly awkward. At least he wasn't alone in his sentiment if Ron and Hermione's fidgeting alongside him was any indication.

"Why don't you just bond them then, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"I can't. Not the right fit."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I'm a half-giant and Ber – ah, foxlet gliders are bred to bond with witches and wizards. They wouldn't take to me." He shook his head a little sadly, continuing before Harry had more than a chance to consider either the regret or the half-spoken words he'd guiltily muted himself from speaking. "That and because they need two parents."

"So…" Ron and Hermione shared a glance and Harry tried not to feel too much like the third wheel. Again. "Could, say, two of us look after one? Or two?"

"Only one, most like," Hagrid shook his head. "They don't like teh share. And it would depend on if they could bond with yeh. Shall we give it a go? See whether they'll take to yeh?"

He stepped forwards, sliding the cradle towards them and it was only when Hermione held up her hands with a rapid request to "wait, wait, wait" that he stopped. Hagrid glanced up at her expectantly.

Hermione paused to turn her attention down towards the foxlets and Harry saw her expression visibly soften once more. She wasn't an animal person, Hermione, but then Harry fathomed that there would be few people in the world who wouldn't melt before the creatures. She seemed to have to physically shake herself loose from her staring. "I have to ask what's involved with this before we readily agree to anything. As I said, Hagrid, we are in our final year of school. We'll have a lot of studying to do and –"

"O' course," Hagrid hastened to agree, nodding his fervent understanding. "O' course, I entirely understand that. Yer study comes first. But it won't be much o' a trouble, I assure yeh. They just need the companionship, yeh understand?"

"Companionship. Right," Ron muttered sceptically. "And what does that involve?"

"Just havin' them follow yeh round, mostly. Bring them down on the odd occasion when they're needed fer the sixth years' study. Not that most people wouldn't see them and get a good look at them anyways."

"Follow us around? To classes and stuff?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "That's a little unconventional."

"I don't think the professors would be too happy about that," Hermione frowned, concern starting to grow in her expression.

Hagrid hastened to allay her fears. "Not at all. Professor McGonagall has had a word the them all, said that there's teh be a few students that will have the lil' tods with them at times. No one had any complaints."

Frankly, Harry had to wonder at the supposed 'no complaints', but he didn't question it. If Hagrid said he'd been given approval, the least he could do was abide by that understanding. "Why did you ask us though, Hagrid? Wouldn't it make more sense for some magical creatures students to take them? Some of the sixth years who're studying them, maybe?"

"It would make more sense," Hermione agreed.

Hagrid shrugged, a little awkwardly in a way that immediately invoked Harry's wariness. "Yeah, maybe. But yeh see, Professor McGonagall and I, we thought it best if eighth years were the ones teh look after 'em."

"And why's that?" Ron asked. There was definite suspicion in his tone now.

"Because they have a chance o' getting' a lil' unruly when they're grow up a bit."

And there it was. Harry had been waiting for it. He was just surprised it had taken so long for Hagrid to admit it. "Unruly how?"

"Nothin' too bad," Hagrid waved aside, seemingly unconcerned. "Nothin' a couple o' eighth years can't handle. And when I was talkin' teh Professor McGonagall about it, I said that there would be none better than yeh three to look after 'em."

"Gee, thanks," Ron muttered, shaking his head.

"So?"

Harry glanced back up at Hagrid at his expectant word. Expectant in word and expression, his gaze shifting hopefully between them all. "Um…"

"We don't know anything about caring for them, Hagrid," Hermione reasoned. "We don't know anything about them at all –"

"Not all that much teh know," Hagrid shrugged. "They eat pretty much anythin', like bein' warm, and they'll be happy so long as they're with their bonded." He shrugged again. "There's a reason the tods were so often used as pets in the past, yeh know."

"Just the tods?" Harry asked. He hadn't missed the emphasis. "Not when they're adults."

"Some…times when they're adults," Hagrid picked at the blankets of the cradle once more, rocking it just enough that the foxlets tumbled over themselves to the floor in what was quite frankly a display of weaponised cuteness. A series of small little "eeeee-yap-yap-yap"s arose from them. Ron "aw"ed again seemingly without realising it. "As I said, they can sometimes get a bit unruly when they mature. It just makes it even more important that they get bonded."

Then, without another word, Hagrid fully slid the cradle across the table towards them. The foxlets stumbled into the blankets once more, only this time they clambered to standing more abruptly with eyes turned towards Harry, Ron and Hermione.

They stared, three pairs of eyes peering unblinkingly up at them and Harry found himself immobilised, drawn in and staring in return. Staring, until suddenly three pairs of eyes became three triplets of eyes.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

Ron physically jerked backwards, nearly tripping over the chair behind him. Harry found himself flinching backwards simultaneously, and even Hermione uttered a faint squawk of surprise. The foxlets continued to stare just as before, only this time with a third eerie, pale eyes – pale blue, all of them – beaming from the centre of each of their foreheads.

Harry turned raised eyebrows upon Hagrid. "They have three eyes?"

"O' course," Hagrid said, as if they should have been expecting it. "That's their magical eye, that is. Helps them see who they should bond with."

"Magical eye…" Harry murmured, turning back towards the foxlets. He was just in time to see one of them, the grey one, reach little black paws onto the edge of the basket and heave itself in a tumbling roll onto the edge of the table. A startled "yip!" erupted from it, and Harry didn't even realise he was darting a hand forwards until he found himself with a handful of fluff.

It really wasn't very big at all, he found, no larger than a small cat. That which Harry held appeared to have more patterns upon it than its fellows; largely grey, its fluffy tail – no, not tail, tails, for it seemed to have three – faded into black, paws of a similar shade and most of its snout as black as its eyes. Yet the belly that rolled towards Harry as it sprawled in his hands was pale white, and just above its eyes streaked a pair of parallel lines that looked almost like horns in their markings that curved over its head. Its little black-tufted ears twitched as they turned towards him, flicking as it turned its three-eyed gave up at him.

Harry couldn't look away.

He wasn't all that fond of animals himself. Other than Hedwig, Harry hadn't had a huge amount to do with them. Those he had interacted with were largely either snakes through a Parseltongue gift that he had discovered he no longer possessed, or magical creatures that seemed to mostly possess an intelligence akin to other animals.

This tod – the 'foxlet glider' as Hagrid had called it – felt different somehow. More intelligent, perhaps. Harry wasn't sure how he could tell, but there was something about its unwavering gaze that made him think that it was at least as smart as his old owl had been. Unconsciously, he found himself stretching a thumb over its belly and rubbing the downy fur in gentle rings. Two little paws – they really did seem almost like cat paws – reached with similar gentleness in return and locked around his thumb in something of an embrace. Harry felt himself smile.

"Ah, see, look at that. Perfect!"

Shaking himself from his stupor, Harry glanced up at Hagrid. Hagrid, who beamed down at him like a doting parent before turning a similarly doting gaze upon Ron and Hermione. Harry followed the line of his focus and saw each of them too in possession of one of the tods – the black one was reaching a flexing paw towards Ron where he crouched just slightly before it, stroking its pads against Ron's chest in an oddly affectionate manner, while Hermione appeared to have been lovingly assaulted by the little white one who had proceeded to curl itself to her chest and to utter a crooning little "yap-yap-yap". Hermione looked as though she would melt.

"Now all yeh have teh do is find someone else who'll bond with them with yeh," Hagrid continued.

Immediately their communal gazes turned upon him. Harry blinked. "What?"

"Can't we just…" Ron waved towards himself, to Hermione, even including Harry in the gesture. "I mean, we could just…"

"Do they really need more than one person looking after them?" Hermione asked. Harry didn't think it was a surprise at all that, despite her evident concern for the situation, she seemed to have already and whole-heartedly accepted that she was to be a carer for the foxlet in her arms.

Hagrid shook his head for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose it could be possible. But they've been found teh respond best teh havin' two. And half the reason I took them in was to try and make sure they wouldn't go Berserk. That happens to most Petuarus Vulpes Veraque these days."

"Berserk?" Ron asked, pausing in his prodding of the black foxlet's head to turn his horrified attention towards Hagrid. "What do you mean 'Berserk'?"

Hagrid waved away the concern once more, though Harry found himself exchanging a foreboding glance with his friends. "Just a bit of a problem with most maturing Foxlet Gliders these days. That's what we're hoping teh avoid. And I'm sure yeh three'll be able teh manage it." He gave them all a confident wink.

Harry stared at him. They he met Hermione's increasingly daunted gaze, then Ron's. Finally, he turned his stare down towards the tiny foxlet in his hands, wriggling just slightly so that it could drag his thumb towards its pointed little snout. It nuzzled his finger as though it were a pacifier. "Um…"

"So…" Ron murmured.

"We have to…"

"Um…"

"I think we need to go to the library," Hermione muttered. "I think it would probably be best that we learn as much about these creatures as possible."

For once, both Harry and Ron nodded readily. Help out Hagrid? For sure, they would do so in a heartbeat. Even if it meant landing themselves with cleaning out flobberworm mucus from their holding barrels or dodging the fiery attacks of blast-ended skrewts. But this? This was different entirely. They were being given sole responsibility for the admittedly adorable little creatures – Harry's was still attempting to suck on his thumb in a way that tickled more than anything else – and they knew very little about them. Very little, and Hagrid seemed to think that they wouldn't need to know all that much.

Harry happened to disagree with that sentiment. Having the foxlet with him the entire time? Having it bond with someone else too, someone Harry didn't have a clue as to nature of, and sharing that responsibility to a degree? How would he even convince someone else that they needed to help? Maybe he could just hold the foxlet before them, turn its slightly unnerving gaze towards them and they would melt just as much as Hermione, despite her objections, still evidently found herself. Or Ron, who seemed nearly incapable of shaking his attention from the black foxlet.

Or himself, Harry realised, for he couldn't seem to shake the resurfacing smile each time he turned his gaze upon the creature curled in his hands, even when considering their circumstances.

More than that, there was this little issue of the 'Berserk' that Hagrid had mentioned. Harry didn't know what it was, barely even knew what the word meant, but what little he did know wasn't reassuring.

"Yeah," he found himself saying. "I think we need to go to the library."