Hogwarts was nearly overwhelming. It was like 1994 all over again, but without the impending threat that was some dark power-hungry hocruxed present that was Tom Riddle, Hagrid was mixed with a daunting sense of confusion, excitement, and familiarity. Despite his old hut being gone and replaced by a new "hospital hut" that the school healer lived in, Hagrid still felt like he was returning back to an old home--he just hoped the school would be as welcoming.

To shake off all his nerves, Hagrid had some fun with gambling before school began, winning over a neat little contraption that he stored aware in a large, gray, and fuzzy suitcase--to keep it safe and because Godric knows how the thing worked. The half-giant could easily muck around with the thing until he figured out how it worked, like Sirius' motorbike, but he decided, that while making his syllabus, it might be best to have a second opinion on the whole matter.

And so Hagrid was tucked away in a secluded and large table-cubby thing at the Hogshead, fresh from the barber's with a nice long mustache and flayed beard, hanging over the front of his crimson tunic, buckled around his waist, while he sat in his long leather coat and drummed his fingertips on the table with a wide smile pinching at his large cheeks. He was giddy and fidgety until his "second opinion" finally arrived.

Young, Asian, and disciplined was the witch--impossible to miss in the Hogshead. A few shady figures cast a mischievous glare in the woman's direction, but the looks instantly subsided as Hagrid stood up from his table, to his full height, and happily waved a hand at her. Everyone immediately lost interest in the arrival.

Once she arrived over he happily let her slide into her seat at the large table he picked as he sat down beside her, and hoisted the suitcase onto the table. "Glad you made it," he said slowly, cautiously hiding his glee behind his rough deep voice. He then put his hands on the case sitting on the table, a very large suitcase that could only be suitably and casually carried by the large man at the table.

"Er, I was wondering if you could help me with something, being from America an' all." he opened the case to reveal an enlarged, wide, and rather flat typewriter-esque device.  The keys were easily fitted to the large fingertips of Hagrid, and had more keys, buttons, and knobs decorating its sides than any muggle could imagine. And, as if one couldn't already tell it was crafted by a witch or wizard, it had a roll of parchment snugly installed beneath the keys, with the first foot of it hanging off the back of the typewriter, with a syllabus for his fourth year students already printed on it.

Hagrid lifted up a tray on the back of the typewriter, positioning the syllabus so it was more easily viewed by his seatmate, "Won it in a bet, weren't worth the coins on the table," he added with a roll of his eyes as he re-adjusted the parchment again, "but I got it all fixed up an' mounted an' got it its own suitcase," his smile pinched his cheeks again as he slid the device over to Miss Yang, so she could see it better (because it clearly wasn't big enough,) "--played with a nice breed crocodile fer a week to get it up an' working," Hagrid drummed his fingertips on the table again, in a moment of silence as he wound the parchment out a little more, and then brushed his sleeve on the device a little, hoping that she thought he was being meticulous, rather than trying to have her focus on his class schedule, "Guy who got it workin' fer me did some fancy things with it--but 'aven't exactly learned it yet, an' was hoping to get my syllabus ready fer the kids--er students," Hagrid finally wound his thick fingers together and, "Was hopin' that, you know, being from America and all, you could help?"

The large giant tried to tame his expression as he began to twiddle his thumbs and wait for a reply.

Two weeks in after Salem’s arrival, Bai had, in typical, Bai Li fashion, already found a routine to fall back on in their new location—wake up, work, go out, and then work again—which she liked to think (quietly) spoke volumes well about her ability to adapt. It was a routine that was quite similar to (if not exactly the same as) the one she had had back at the Institute, and it pleased her to know that an entirely different culture proved to have no bearing on her ability to function yet again.

Because function meant stability, which meant reliability, which implied usefulness—competence—in return. And she was nothing if not competent. So when she departed for Hogsmeade, particularly The Hogshead, Bai arrived in typical, Bai Li fashion—which was to say, dark hair perfectly coiffed, robes impeccably clean, and even a stance that implied ownership of the ground she walked on, if not the entire town itself. The skulking figures received little more than a cursory glance.

That was, quite naturally, because she had zeroed in on the half-giant tucked away in the corner, and the hand that had waved specifically at her.

He was even larger up close.

When he fell silent, Bai shifted a direct, watchful gaze from the typewriter onto its owner’s hopeful-looking face, and back onto the. . . contraption once again. Ever so slightly, she smiled. “Help with what, specifically?” she asked, letting her approval show to put him at ease. Nervousness—if he was—was all well and good, but it had the potential to be detrimental when one was trying to be constructive. “How to use this-” she tapped it lightly, “-or help with your syllabi? –Which seems in order, I might add. It is exactly what I would plan for my own class.”

   

"Ur..." Hagrid wasn't sure how to respond at the other witch's perceptiveness. He wasn't terribly sly or intelligent, especially not with conversations, but with Miss Yang being rather kind with him he decided he could concede to her, "Both?" His beetle black eyes moved from the parchment, to the typewriter contraption, and then back to the Asian professor as she continued to compliment the syllabus.

"Really?" his voice growled happily. If the giant could bob up and down in his seat without breaking anything, or sending the small witch, flying he would have.

Then he gestured to do the syllabus again, with an excited husk to his voice, "Should I have the younger students learn about how to raise water demons then? Oh! And then the older years can learn how to handle 'em." He was smiling, far too excited now, "Oh I bet they'd have some times with that, yeah?" His casual affection towards danger now showing through, Hagrid felt positively excited about classes now, "I haven't really given much a thought to what sort o' creatures to let 'em handle otherwise."

At that sudden burst of enthusiasm, Bai only smiled, a serene curve taking to her lips. Normally the petite professor barely tolerated such a thing from students, and even less from her own colleagues; she was a believer in standards and appearances, firmly of the opinion that it was up to the latter to set an example for the former to follow.

But, when the outburst was one of positive emotion rather than negative (and by way of a compliment from her, no less), an exception could always be made—especially when she shared a similar fondness for dangerous creatures herself.

“Such projects are a fine idea,” she agreed as she looked over the syllabus thoughtfully. There was no better way to teach than to allow hands-on experience, really. “In Salem, I worked with the riding instructor to allow select students to help tend some of the horses for extra credit. In tandem with our Herbology professor, there were projects to maintain terrariums. I have also had juniors and seniors—sixth and seventh years,” she smoothly corrected herself, “to produce and raise ashwinders...”

A small, almost secretive smile unfurled. “Water demons would have been another.” It was only regrettable that she would have found herself tweaking the assignment for a few key reasons—one being that because they were really more of pests than a form of population control outside water than anything else, she would have needed a good reason to have younger students raising them without hassle. However, “Having older students learn how to handle them is something to consider, yes. It’s quite likely they would encounter such after they graduate, if they haven’t already.”

And making it a project would be one way to ensure they did not forget their lessons.

“I do, however, have some suggestions…” Her voice trailed off delicately. “Some creatures, as I’m sure you know, cannot be utilized for lessons because they are either too dangerous, or simply cannot be brought in regardless of rating. I have, however, learned to compensate in… other ways.”

She looked up at him then, head tilted slightly to the side as if debating whether to continue. Dark, almond-shaped eyes gave Hagrid a look that could, perhaps, be mistaken for described as guileless curiosity under a generous light. “Have you ever considered using reanimated models?”

   

It took Hagrid a moment to actually process what the woman meant by 'reanimated,' although he didn't process it at all. Instead he just voiced his concerns out loud with a doubtful hush, "Reanimated like necromancy--or," then his voice fell into a more reassured and strong gruff, "you mean charms and enchantments?"

"It ain't the real thing, how're they gonna learn?" He furrowed a single fuzzy brow as he looked down at Bai Li Yang, "Can't baby 'em about creatures."

He wasn't as eloquent as the Salem witch, but he could do his best to try and explain things,  "It's a different mentality, interactin' with the real thing now," he let his voice linger for a moment, "They won't know what to do when they meet something real. They need to be handled with responsibility." He shrugged, "If they're old enough to take a bludger to the gut, they can handle tha' real thing."

“And I agree,” she cut in smoothly, unfazed by his disagreement, “completely.” It was not a difficult concession to make; reanimated models still were a far cry from living ones, and the difference between them was even more vast when the former was kept in poor condition, or hadn’t even been made well at all. A standard one was superior to a crafted one—muscle retained memory, after all—but the construction of such was still a tedious, complicated process; you had to find an acceptable cadaver to make one out of in the first place.

The Egyptians had it down to an art, but their results did break so easily.

“However, the models I use are quite different,” Bai continued, and carefully set her suitcase  on the table. It was a sleek, inch-thick thing, a curious charcoal gray that looked like leather to the casual observer but felt like suede to the touch; it was covered in a thin layer of fine hairs. It bristled now, when her hand hovered above it, but quickly settled down when she gently touched it.

Like a Monster Book, it required touch to soothe. Unlike a Monster Book, it required just a touch and was keyed to hers. Softly purring, the suitcase “bared” its “teeth”—a series of locks and dials. Eventually, it surrendered the huddled form of a bat; with her gloved hands Bai scooped it out. A wordless Vivere had it shuddering to life, and within moments a specimen of Rousettus aegyptiacus peered up at them silently.

“Strictly speaking, it is not necromancy,” she said quietly, stroking the bat’s head with a gentle thumb. Most noticeably, it didn’t respond, only continuing to merely stare. “Because its body remembers what it used to perform, it will perform almost all actions, albeit without results such as bodily fluids. What the spell accomplishes is… a rewind-” Her lips twisted slightly at the Muggle term. “-Of its past actions.”

Which was why the business of such manufacture was so often a hit or miss. Useful but temporary, it skirted—barely—around the label of necromancy, which was intended to be permanent. However, to make the construction useful depended on the handling of the subject in question antemortem. More often than not the models were made from old, ill, or dying specimens, which often limited the range of actions their potential ‘rewind’ would perform.

When the bat reached out to clasp an invisible branch that wasn’t there, there was a faint whiff of formaldehyde.

“For species such as dragons-” Eyeing Hagrid, she placed a slight emphasis on the word, “-they are incredibly useful. Almost all existing models perform the acts that they are known for—breathing fire, flight, etcetera—because they rely on magic, rather than the laws of physics.” That one was uttered with a faint curl of the lip. Although Muggleborn and well-taught in advanced mathematics and the sciences, Bai did not place much stock in them. In the Wizarding world they could be used to explain much, but not everything. A great deal of it was easily nullified by magic and the principles of Arithmancy, Artificing, and the discoveries of philosophers, anyway.

At Hagrid, she continued to smile serenely. “The same goes for chimaeras, too, and manticores as well. With the older students I have no such compunctions about introducing them to live ones, but with younger children? It pays to be a little more cautious, unfortunately.”

Before the bat could fall from her hold, she ended the spell; it stiffened, and then gently slumped over the curve of her fingers, as if having fallen asleep. Almost solicitously she tucked in its wings, and calmly offered it for his inspection.

Hagrid suspiciously watched Bai Li Yang as she continued to explain her position, and then provide an example of what she was talking about, in the form of a little bat. The half-giant gave a noticeable mumble of doubt, but at the mention of dragons and chimeras his grumbling seemed to be subdued for a minute as he combed a finger through his thick beard. Perhaps he was not as eloquent as Miss Yang, but Rubeus Hagrid did his best to explain his point.

"Ah, but personality is as important as the physical stuff," he began with his grumbling voice, "The kids need to learn to build relationships with creatures just as much as they should learn behavior." He tapped a button on the typewriter before his beetle black eyes settled back down on the small Asian woman.

"They can't do tha' when they work on somethin' without a good hold on reality," he added with emphasis, as he shrugged his broad and large shoulders, "It'll just slow down their development in the subject if ya' hold their hand like that when they're young."

"So maybe somethin' like tha's great for practice or introductions purposes," his voice grew softer and had a more diplomatic grizzly growl to it than before, "but they should understand creatures as they live and as they die and pass onto other things... I mean." The giant hesitated as he surveyed the pub and then let his gaze fall back onto Bai Li Yang, and with a breath of excitement he ended with, "I guess there's those seminar things we were told about."

As he spoke, Bai had listened, gaze inscrutable but intent. There was value to what he said, she knew.

“I could not possibly,” she demurred at the suggestion, ducking her head gracefully. The bat disappeared without another word. “If I could find the time…” But she couldn’t—not without detracting what she spent on the paperwork Salem’s students and headmaster generated on a daily basis and the time she set aside for herself. She gave the giant man a helpless shrug, and smiled sweetly. “And should I choose, what would I cover? The tengu of Japan, the manananggal of the Philippines, the leyak of Bali?”

The last one in particular brought amusement to her lips. Filing for a license to import a leyak… her workload might well border on horrific, even by her standards. “I think it would best serve as a regular lesson, albeit one tailored for the upcoming holiday—Halloween. And…” She craned her head to gain a better look at the syllabus. “Serve as a topic for Ethical and Moral Treatment as well.” The smile she gave him was perfectly serene. “The children may like that.”

Then, as she paused for a heartbeat too long, it faded.

“I do agree with you,” she said, solemn as she lowered her voice as well. “Hand… holding… is not conducive, certainly not in the long term. However, unless they have already chosen or are old enough to choose a particular career where such exposure would only be beneficent, I believe that perhaps practices and introductions are what should be given. No doubt that there will be those they will encounter no matter what they do or do not choose-” such as dementors, werewolves, and runespoors, “but there are creatures with whom a personal introduction would not be… wise.”

The look in her eyes flickered ever so slightly—it was personal experience that she was speaking from, not not only a teacher’s concern—until that, too, faded and another smile took its place. “But that, I think, is where we may agree to disagree.”