Puffskeins, hmm? Mo tugged on the bright pink shirt he'd somehow managed to scavenge from the bottom of his trunk (comfortable with his masculinity, thanks) and made faces. Tame. Boring.

It was like they were all too old and weary to handle anything more dangerous. Bummer.

"I think they're pretty much completely tame, sir. They'll let you do whatever... manhandle, throw them, cuddle them, use them as a replacement Quaffle. Not fussed at all by it."