Remus wakes up to a parcel at the end of his bed. A wiggling parcel. With airholes. Warily, he unties the ribbon on the top, pulling back his hands swiftly when the box moves; he's known Hagrid far too long to open boxes unaware. A wet black nose pokes out of the box, nudging the lid aside, as Remus watches. He smiles as a small black puppy with scruffy, lopsided ears scrabbles its way ...