Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 16:3

"Hippogriffs got a long history in the magical world."

"Can he fly?"

"Not yet. Got 'is wings, but needs ter be steady on four legs firs'. Like Griffins, Hippogriffs are special. Sort of a mixed breed. Bit a' horse an' eagle...like a mongrel. Always had a fondness for mongrels, m'self," said Hagrid proudly. "They're right dangerous with that beak, though. An' when he's all grown up, he'll have talons that'll tear a troll into giblets. Could grab hold o' yeh and take yeh up ter the clouds without blinkin', this 'un could."

"Just like you're about to be taken away, Hagrid," Fred replied hesitantly. "D'you reckon Dumbledore would allow you to have a creature like this on school grounds?"

"I'm 'fraid yer right 'bout tha'," Hagrid said worriedly. "So I'd prefer if this remained a secret, a'right? Mind you don't go tellin' Professor Kettleburn 'bout it. He's never liked me too much. Thinks me a troublemaker." His frown lowered considerably. "He mustn' find out. I respect him, but Kettleburn's the one mindin' the magical creatures round 'ere. Ogg trusts me, though. Knows I always fancied the life o' a breeder. This 'un's wee, so he ain't learned his independence, like. But they can be proud, Hippogriffs. Can even be dangerous if yeh ain't gentle with 'em."

As he said this, Lee outstretched a hand. To their surprise, the Hippogriff rubbed its feathered head forcefully against Lee's fingers and leapt into his arms. Hagrid let out a bellow of laughter.

"Real dangerous, there."

"Well, he knows yer lot. Believes yeh won' mistreat 'im." Hagrid paused introspectively. "Trustin' beasts, at that age. If you wanna know the truth, I'm only carin' for 'im 'til he's old enough ter leave on his own. Eventually he'll grow up...an' realize there's better things out there in the world than me," Hagrid admitted with a sniff.

"He might come back when he's older," Angelina suggested.

"Yeah...could..." said Hagrid, mopping a tear that trickled down his cheek.

"It's nice of you to look after him, Hagrid," said George agreeably. "Seems at home here."

"I've always tried ter care fer things tha' couldn' do so themselves," said Hagrid thoughtfully, as his massive dog howled from the corner. "Pipe down, Fang." He tossed the soup-covered ladle at him and the dog erupted in barks, causing the Hippogriff to break free of Lee's grasp. On its attempted flight toward a bookshelf across the room, it tumbled to the floor and rolled to a stop at Hagrid's slushy boot.

"There, there..." he said, lifting the small beast to the table. "Yeh'll get yer wings soon enough."

"Didn't know you had a dog, Hagrid," said George observantly.

"Giant kitten, more like. Ogg swears he knew someone who had one o' them, in fact. Nah, he's a boarhound. Name's Fang."

"Oh, so this is Fang," Fred replied, recalling the ink dot they had seen on the Marauder's Map on more than one occasion. Hagrid looked confused. "Er...Bill...he thought you had a pet snake."

"Did once," Hagrid recalled fondly. "But her name was Molly."

"Like our mum!" said Fred delightedly.

George grunted. "Her name should be Fang."

"Disrespecting his mother. Why am I not surprised?" Angelina retorted, crossing her arms. "I'd bet she's a saint, having to put up with you all this time."

Fred shrugged. "She has her moments."

Lee moved to the table, where he picked dust bunnies off the Hippogriff's feathered back. "What are you going to name him?" he asked.

"Dunno, really," Hagrid wheezed.

"Grounders?" said Fred.

"Without-Wings?" George offered with a laugh.

"Oh, I like tha'," Hagrid replied, sitting up straight.

"What? Without-Wings?" asked Angelina reproachfully.

"Nah...Witherwings!"

The four of them looked dubious as they faced the Hippogriff, a huge smile breaking through the bristles of Hagrid's inky-black beard.

"Sounds about right," said Lee.

"Tha' it does," Hagrid agreed earnestly. "What d'ya say, Witherwings? Approve, do yeh?"

The young Hippogriff tottered across the table and gave what sounded like a shrill chirp of consent that pierced the overcrowded room. Fang whimpered, pawing at the door for escape, while the rest of them covered their ears and grinned. Soon the noise cleared and the pot of soup ceased its bubbling. Hagrid removed it from the fire and spooned a few slurps of the golden broth, before searching the hut for the letter that Professor Sprout's owl had delivered a week prior.

"There we are," he groaned, blowing away a few Hippogriff feathers before reading the note. "Snow collection fer firs' years, George Weasley an' Angelina Johnson. Right — we're gonna need some buckets. Got some round the back garden, I think. Should be on our way. Never a good idea servin' detention in the Forbidden Forest, 'specially at night."

Hagrid took hold of Fang's collar as he opened the door to his hut. "What d'ya do to get in trouble this time? Heard 'bout all that work yeh done with the house-elves. Thought tha' might've stopped yeh from causin' more trouble."

"Actually, they brought your name up last time we spoke with them, Hagrid," said Fred, as Fang fought to escape.

"Tha' right? Which one...an' wha'd they tell yeh?" he replied nervously.

"It was Dandy," said George.

"And Polly Anne," added Fred. "They told us that...well...back when you were a student at Hogwarts, you snuck somebody into the school using the kitchens." Hagrid gulped as Fred continued. "Dandy was so bothered by the mention of it, he practically bashed his brains into porridge."

"Hagrid, you brought someone here who didn't belong?" asked Angelina in a troubled voice.

"Tha's not entirely truthful," he bawled, his eyes darting back and forth. "She was already at Hogwarts...got her into Hufflepuff, is all. Didn't have too many friends, mind. She was there for me — my best friend in the whole world before...well...see what yeh need ter know is tha' sometimes friends grow apart. Yeh get older, and that. I'm surprised, actually. No one knows what we'd done. Not Dumbledore, not anyone. So...if yeh could keep tha' a secret — well...along with the other secret 'bout Witherwings — I'd be in yer debt." Hagrid stroked his beard contemplatively. "There're worse punishments than detention, let me tell yeh. Speakin' o' that...let's shove off, shall we?"