A knock came at the door to Hagrid's Hideaway and the half-giant opened one side of his massive red dutch doors with a beaming smile and an ecstatic glint in his eye as he looked down at none other than Minerva McGonagall, in all her stern and stoic glory.

"Minerva!" his growl of a voice bellowed as he stepped aside and held a hand out into his new home,  "Come in! Come in! Hurry up," He shut the door after she entered and then hopped into his home after her, gesturing to the rustic mixture of tree bark and stone glowing with the orange and green hue of his fireplace and various fireflies skulking in his ceiling, "Have a look about--still cleaning up a bit," he lifted a hand towards his giant-sized couch as he seemed to try and walk towards the kitchen, "You can push Peyge and Hoss aside--er the little hogs on the couch,"

Then he stopped walking to the kitchen and turned to look at the stern witch again, "Unless you want somethin' to drink?"

He waited as the memories of his years after Hogwarts flooded his thoughts, and his journeys and adventures with Grawp. He hadn't seen many of his friends or comrades for a long time and, now that he had seem so many familiar faces and met so many new and excited students and kind people in the course of two months, he heaved a heavy sigh, "Oh I've missed you, an' Hogwarts, and everyone," he looked around his new home as if he were looking for something and then gave a congested sniff, "It ain't the same, no--but that's no bad thing."

Then he looked at the witch again and gave a modest smile, "Been a bit too excited to really call it home yet, you know?" then again, he added, "Didya want a drink?"

Minerva McGonagall had owled in advance, three hours in advance, to be exact, to inform the inhabitants of Hogwarts castle that she would be making the short trek from her abode in Hogsmeade to the grand school. As Headmistress, she had always despised when people showed up unannounced. As if her post weren’t busy enough without the added stress of random witches and wizards showing up at the gate, demanding to see her for trivial reasons. That’s why she had sent ahead a letter to the Headmaster. He was busy with this or that, and she was sure he truly was. With the added stress of a Tetrawizard Tournament on his hands, Hershel Reid was bound to be a very busy man indeed.

She was, however, not there to see the Headmaster of the school. Today was not a day for School Governor business, nor was it a day for important work. All that could wait until tomorrow. If Minerva had learned one thing from being retired, it was that things could certainly be put off for more important affairs. She had quickly waved away the wizard that had come to fetch her at the gate, for who knew the school and its grounds than Minerva McGonagall? It was a sobering thought, but then a smile caught on the elder witch’s thin-lipped mouth and she realized that there was at least one person that knew the environs of Hogwarts much better than she did: Rubeus Hagrid.

Hagrid was an old friend, a bit touched sometimes, but who’s opinion Minerva revered and respected. The two had been together for many years, side by side, protecting the school and its inhabitants. McGonagall leaned heavily on her walking stick as she fell into the land of dreams and memories. The reason she carried the walking cane today was from her attempt to save Hagrid from an unfair and unjust Dolores Umbridge. Sure, she had gotten better for a while, but the residual effects were evident.

Minerva sucked in a great breath of air as Hagrid’s new home came into view. It was truly magnificent and she wondered briefly how Hagrid could have created such a wonderful home without the aid of magic, then she snorted at her own oversight. Hagrid had never truly relinquished his hold on magic, evident in his feminine pink umbrella always attached to his side. When she reached the heavy doors, Minerva rapped hard upon their surface with the top of her staff. She was truly sorry she hadn’t had a chance to visit him before now, but between their busy schedules, there just wasn’t time.

When Hagrid ushered her into his home, Minerva had to try very hard to keep her face impassive. Very few people could elicit a smile from the stern witch, but there was something about Rubeus Hagrid that made her feel like a youthful witch again. She hobbled into the home and made her way over to the enormous couch, complete with flying pigs. “Hagrid, pigs?” she asked, waving her staff at the beasts to usurp them from the upholstery. She sat upon the edge of the couch; the sheer size making her feel as if a shrinking spell had been placed upon her.

When Hagrid, in all his excited fervor, asked her for a drink, Minerva couldn’t help but smile. She remembered all the years of Hagrid offering her food and drink, and knowing full well that his food could easily bludgeon a hippogriff. “Maybe just a spot of tea,” She said, well aware that the half-giant would also probably bring out a tray of his homemade goodies.

At the wave of McGonagall's staff the pigs fluttered and hopped off the couch and skulked onto the floor until they rolled over in front of the fireplace while one walked over and curiously sniffed the heel of the retired professor's shoe.

Hagrid had meandered off to the kitchen to pour a lukewarm stream of tea into one of his smallest cups and a mug for himself--some of the kids who had helped him with his home managed to leave a few normal-sized things lying about the house. He set the cups onto two separate trays and then reached over to grab some new treats he made, "And oh! You'll like this," he piled some twisted strands of fried meat onto two plates, filled two small bowls with  clumpy white sauce, and placed each on the separate platters before he made his way back over to the couch, "Grindylow fritters an' some tartar sauce--homemade, new thing," he chuckled as he carried the platters over to the table and placed one next to Minerva and one in his own lap.

"You found any crosswords that have you stumped?"

Minerva was temporarily preoccupied with the winged animals. It certainly gave a new meaning to the phrase ‘when pigs fly’. She flinched involuntarily when one of the beasts sniffed her shoe, like it was a piece of delicious bacon or something, well… probably not bacon, but something equally delicious and unrelated. Her lips smoothed into a thin line as she allowed her trademark stern expression to take over her features. “Hagrid,” She said in her authoritarian voice, “Where did they come from?” She asked, indicating the pigs.

Minerva always turned a blind eye to Hagrid’s less-than-legal experiments, but she was no longer the Headmistress of the school and wouldn’t be in any position to help him should he be reprimanded for his ‘harmless fun’. She recalled very clearly a time when his experiments landed his class in the Hospital Wing various times throughout the term. Those odd bang-ended scoots or whatever he called them. Thinking of how dangerous Hagrid’s ‘pets’ tended to be, Minerva shooed the pig away quickly, the last thing she needed was for the thing to snort and catch her robes on fire.

When Hagrid reentered the room, Minerva’s nose flared automatically. The smell that assaulted her senses was putrid and almost unbearable. She desperately wanted to ask the professor what exactly a grindylow fritter was, but she figured it was better not to ask. It would be safe to assume that it at least included grindylow, and tartar sauce. The look of disgust was evident on Minerva’s features, and she had to try very hard to wipe the look from her face. She certainly didn’t want to upset her friend.

She thought the best idea was for her to simply ignore the food in front of her and busy herself with the tea. Oh, Hagrid tried his best, but he simply did not understand that tea should be steaming, not tepid. She sipped at it in any case, considering it the lesser of two evils. In response to her friend’s jibe, Minerva actually contemplated the question. “Well, there was one in the Prophet last week, but it was a misprint.” She caught Hagrid’s eye as a small smile crept on her face. “What about you, Hagrid? Are you enjoying being back at Hogwarts?”

Hagrid smiled and idly hummed a fishing tune as he ignored McGonagall's question about the little winged critters as she sent one skipping around to the other side of the table. Then he gave a raspy chuckle at her as she replied to his jab, "'Course, of course," he continued humming as Minerva asked him another question about Hogwarts, but then his eyes fell to her plate of food and his smile fell away as worried eyes darted between the elder witch and the platter of fried food.

He let the question hang in the air as his humming died away and he looked between the witch and the food again. Did the elder witch not like seafood? Or fried snacks? Most of his kids loved it! ...well, the ones who had a proper appetite anyway. The little hog that had just been shooed to the other side of the table snorted its way around the other side of the table and hopped over Hagrid's legs. It lifted a sniffing snout to the untouched platter of food and Hagrid shot the thing a disapproving look as he pushed it aside with the ankle of his boot.

He looked at McGonagall again and then gave a nod as recalled her question, "Yeah, sure," he nodded to his surroundings, "Got this little home--lotsa students helped make--Salem has a half-giant too yannow," he sipped his tea as his eyes drew towards the fireplace, "Not as tall as me but good height. Good kid."

He put his mug down and then quickly chewed and gulped down one of the grindylow fritters, "Was scouring the forest the other day for predators an' found 'em," Hagrid looked at the stern witch and gestured towards the winged hogs cuddled next to the fireplace while one began to creep back towards Minerva's feet, "Their mum got caught and so I brought 'em back to school--Rare little squirts they are... er, Sky Demons," Hagrid quickly looked away from Minerva as he lifted his mug to his mouth and gulped some tea."

Then he lowered the cup and quickly added, "But they're babes! Harmless--and if trained right they'll be right and proper as Buckbeak I'm sure." A grin broke across Hagrid's lips as he looked down at the most curious of the flying pigs, now standing up against the couch and sniffing the elder witch's knee.

Minerva brought her eyes up from the critter and gazed around the abode, taking in the incredible detail. “You say the students did this? This is truly remarkable, Hagrid. And though I loved your old hut, I think this is an obvious improvement.” She was honestly happy to know that the students were banding together under one flag, so to speak. It was high time international witches and wizards started helping each other. The foolish ‘every man for himself’ mentality had caused the deaths of thousands of magical folk in the past and it made her heart soar to know that Hogwarts would be the home of where it all starts tumbling down.

It would be a long, delicate process to be sure, but one day there would be peace between people and things would get better. She tore her gaze back to the curious critter bouncing around her, and truly looked at them for the first time. She really hoped that the little Sky Demon would eat her food, that way she could get out of trying the terrible things, but it was not to be. As the critter started to sneak back over to Minerva, she picked up a strip of the fried meat and without thinking, dipped it in the clumpy sauce and stuck it in her mouth.

To be quite honest, Minerva likened the taste of the grindylow fritter to canned cat food, and she almost spit it back out. She had tried canned cat food only once, while on a reconnaissance mission for the Order and it couldn’t be helped, and she never wanted to taste the nasty stuff again. She chewed, her nostrils flaring, and swallowed, all while somehow maintaining her composure. She coughed into her hand and took another sip of the lukewarm tea.

“Sky Demons, you say? What exactly do they do?” She asked while scrutinizing the little one nuzzling her knee. They weren’t half bad, and they didn’t seem to smell as awful as most pigs do. She absentmindedly reached down and started scratching the critter behind the ear, much like she did her kneazle back home.

Hagrid's chest swelled with pride at Minerva's compliment, so much so he forgot about the fritters. The small hog jumped up on the couch with a flap of its wing and stepped int Minerva's lap as it tried to rub its nose at one of the fried grindylow bits. "Ya think?" He said as he admired the room, filled with the warm glow of the fireplace.

"Ah yes, a," Hagrid nodded around the room and pointed towards the fireplace and kitchen, "Jones, Dickenson, Steinbeck--Salem kids," he gestured his hand towrads something else in the room that was a result of some clever enchantment, " Gaubert's a Beauxbatons boy. A few fourth years--" he splayed his large hands over the couch and at the staircase, "Durmstrang and Hogwarts, Taylor, Foley, Cihala, and they had a habit of dragging along their friends," he finally clasped his hands together as he finished running through a few more names, not really paying attention to who Minerva may or may not know--or that she might even be following him at all. But he was proudd, and felt the need to list all of them, "Then Harcroft, Trumble, some others and a little half-mer first year..."

Hagrid this gave a snort of a snicker as he realized she really caused more of a ruckus than she did help, "well she sort of helped with chasin' things up trees," the half-giant shrugged his broad thick shoulders as he turned to face McGonagall, still unaware of the critter that had just climbed up on the couch and was still trying ton covertly  reach for a fritter.

At the witch's question Hagrid jumped from his prideful trance, "Oh the lil' ones?" he ran a hand down his beard as he looked at the sleeping creatures, "Play wit' clouds at this age--you wanna see?" the half-giant then suspiciously narrowed a disgruntled stare down at the one currently residing in McGonagall's lap.

Minerva listened as the half-giant listed off students, most of whom she had no clue about. She was secretly hoping that the sniffling piggy would devour the food so that Minerva didn’t have to be bothered with it anymore. She had already steeled her resolve and had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t eat another bite, no matter what it did to Hagrid’s feelings.

When the creature stepped into Minerva’s lap, she wasn’t exactly sure what to do. It was one thing to shoo them away with her cane, but quite another to usurp one from her lap. She was torn, on one hand, the pig was sniffling toward the plate of fritters, and that would help Minerva to rid herself of Hagrid’s treats. On the other hand… there was a pig with unknown magics sitting in her lap, flapping it’s stubby wings.

Minerva’s scowl deepened as she looked down upon the beast. “Now get down, you,” Minerva said, giving the piglet the stern look she usually reserved for disciplining students. “Go on,” she said, pushing the little beastie off her lap unto the floor, watching in awe as the pig’s wings caught and he glided smoothly to the ground. Minerva didn’t really want to know what the creatures could do, but it was like a car wreck. You really didn’t want to look, you knew it would be terrible, but you just couldn’t look away. The retired witch let out a long breath and said simply, “Show me,” and gripped her wand within her robes, just in case she needed to protect herself… or Hagrid.

Hagrid gave a short nod too the little hog before his voice beat into a rough chortle of a laugh as he pat a heavy hand against his leg as he looked at the pig that Minerva excused from her lap, "C'mere Corky." The little hug gave a hop and flapped its wings until it floated back down into Hagrid's lap with a loving squeal. It seemed to believe it was getting a treat until Hagrid rolled the pig over onto its back and tickled its belly.

The little creature waved its feet for a moment and gave a startling snort before it calmed and gave a few flaps of its wings. A steam began to waft from its feathers and twisted into the air above the witch and the half giant and until it was a light grey pillowy cloud that breathed off chilly wisps of air. Then, Hagrid patted Corky on the belly and let the pig roll onto its stomach as large frozen flakes of snow began to float down from the cloud above them.

With Hagrid's attention on the small snow cloud, the little piglet slipped off Hagrid's lap and began to guzzle up most of the fritters on McGonagall's plate with frightening ease, "And Tha's the gist of it, at this age. While they're young they fly around the sky a lot, but when they're older happens more at our level." A steady layer of snow began to cover the portion of the couch where the seasoned professors sat, and Hagrid gave a quick grumble as he saw Corky had finished off what was left of Minerva's fritters! With a flurry of snow Rubeus Hagrid shooed the pig off the couch again, letting it flutter down to his feet to roll around before he turned back to his friend, with a beard littered with white fluffs.

"A bit of fun, err, no one really has figure out why they do it like that o' course," he smiled as he gestured to the pile of young hogs by the fire, "Probably can figure out why if they can stay long enough."

Minerva’s knuckles whitened from the tight grip she held on her wand in anticipation. The little piglets could create a tornado for all Minerva knew and it might take some quick thinking to save the new hideaway from meeting the same end as Hagrid’s last home on the grounds. When the white snow started falling from the air, Minerva’s eyes widened in complete shock.

In Minerva’s many years at Hogwarts she had never seen the likes of the sky demons. True, there were some crazy weather disturbances over the dark forest, but Minerva never felt the urge to explore to figure it out. She had seen firsthand Hagrid’s idea of interesting creatures and she was secretly extremely uneasy about the forest in general.

She wiped the soft snow from her robes and lowered her wand, watching the pigs rolling around with a stern gaze. “Is this a personal project, Hagrid?” She asked quizzically, wondering if he had found a way to work the magnificent creatures into his curriculum. “Have you done any research? You’ve not found any mention of anything like these little ones?” Minerva would never admit it, but she found a secret liking for the porky little things. “Have you named them? Are you sure they aren’t dangerous?” Minerva didn’t even realize that she had been firing question after endless question at the man. She needed to remember that she wasn’t his supervisor anymore, she shouldn’t be so… bossy.

The sudden onslaught of questions caused Hagrid to pause and think about things he really hadn't thought much on yet, so he rubbed his beard and tried to respond to question after question, "Yes I've named 'em," He was about to point a large finger towards Corky when he suddenly had another question to answer, "Well sometimes they're mentioned in research but not mu--" And another question.

The half-giant sighed as he put his food down on the table in front of them. Then he sat back and watched the snow cloud dissipate as the heat from the fireplace began to melt the snow away. After years of knowing Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus decided to wait for the woman to finish before he finally answered her.

"Well..." he said with a low voice and a quick glance at the tired creatures, "They don't 'ave a mum no more, Minerva," his voice had smoothed on the verge of a whisper as he gave her a defeated shrug. He was sure he didn't need to elaborate what type of fate befell their mother in the Forbidden Forest.

"What else am I spose ta' do with 'em?" His tone hung morosely in the air as he watched the little ones sleep by the fire. Then the Corky stopped rolling and hopped up onto the couch, trying to dig himself a spot between Minerva, Rubeus, and the grindylow fritters.

Minerva let a sound escape her throat much like the croaking of a frog. It was, indeed, an attempt to quell the rising giggle that tempted to burst forth that only partially worked. Rubeus Hagrid was actually older than Minerva, though you’d never know by looking at the two of them. Hagrid had a boyish personality that bordered on adolescence at times, whereas Minerva showed all the wisdom of her years. She much preferred Hagrid’s particular brand on life. She tried to cover the awkward sound with a polite cough that she finished with a large gulp of tea, which she immediately regretted.

This was turning out to be a rather uncomfortable reunion. “For what it’s worth, Rubeus, I believe this could be your best idea yet,” A bit of encouragement between friends was always welcome, Minerva knew. And truly, between the dragon eggs, three headed dogs, and giant brother projects, Minerva wasn’t lying in the slightest bit. Though even she had to admit that Hagrid’s pet projects seemed to work out better than any of them had ever dared hope.

As the piggy continued its bout of annoyance, Minerva finally had enough, “All right you, that’s enough!” She said with a stern voice, pushing the pig from the couch. “Go on now,” She said, giving the pig the same look she’d given to unruly Gryffindor’s for many years. She watched, pleased as the pig returned to his brethren, obviously shamed. She turned her steely gaze to the half-giant, “Sometimes they just require a firm hand, Hagrid,” She said, knowing all too well that the giant of a man was truly soft and squishy on the inside.

Suddenly, Minerva said he had a great idea. 'Best' idea, even. "What?" came the half-giant's pleasantly surprised growl. "Really?"

But then the witch shooed the hog off the couch. Animals on the couch was never a concern for Rubeus. Since they were big enough for the creatures he never thought it was a problem... but the creature was being persistent.

"Well he's actually been acting a bit antsy since you walked in, Minerva," Hagrid scratched his head as he looked over towards the fireplace. Then he hesitantly added, "I think he likes you," the hog snuggled in with his pile of siblings, but he kept a sad droopy gaze steadied on both Hagrid and McGonagall.

Minerva turned her stern gaze back to the half giant. He had always been hard on himself, though with his sheer size, one wonders if it’s even possible to mature to adulthood without some issues with self-esteem. “Hagrid, when will you learn that you’re a truly magnificent wizard?” She asked, always to the point. Rubeus Hagrid had been at Hogwarts longer even than she, and he had proven his worth more times than she could count. He was in close confidence with Albus Dumbledore and she valued his opinion more than most any other.

Even with all the obstacles he had faced in his life, he had still managed to make a name for himself. He was a determined man, and even managed to scrape together a few NEWTs, which was probably more difficult than taming a dragon (and more fun, if one were to ask Hagrid). Minerva let out a small sigh and looked back to the piglets. “Hagrid, mothers should be more firm.” She said with a small grin, “You need to teach them how to behave, and you can’t do that if you baby them all the time,”

Minerva’s grin turned quickly into a look of puzzlement. Surely she had misheard the man? There was no way one of those creatures liked her. It was a pig, for Merlin’s sake! Deep within the corners of her mind, however, Minerva secretly liked the little critter just as much as it liked her. She was intrigued by the animal’s obvious intelligence and magical prowess.

The compliment startled Hagrid and hse folded his hands together and began to study the floor, "Ah, s'not something I think too much about..." After a moment his eyes landed back on the baby demon before he firmly squeezed his hands together and looked back towards the witch.

"I think maybe he'd enjoy yer company, Minerva," a curious glint shined in his hopeful dark eyes,  "Why not take him in? I mean you're only a Hogsmeade walk away, easy to visit too." He gave the woman a soft smile.

"Whad do ya' think?"