When all was said and done, Danaë Corentin-Devereux, sole daughter of Celestine Devereux, Bastien Corentin, and Phillip Taylor, would never, under any circumstances stop pretending to hate her family's new dog Althea. She was loud, big, a bundle of 6-month-old goldendoodle that wouldn't stop moving because there was always something, something to do, something to crash, something that made her speed around the house at 10 pm. Althea licked peoples feet, got underfoot, put her paws on countertops and stole food (if anyone stated that Danaë occasionally gave her some of the aforementioned food she would resolutely deny it). And maybe, reluctantly, she loved the dog in her own strange little way, loved the little way she'd nudge her head under the covers at late hours of the night to become a (slightly bony) pillow, and gave out tiny licks on the sides of her family's face when they didn't pay attention to Althea for more than 3 minutes.

Nevertheless, this so-called problem was Althea's fault, for Danaë had been wrangled outside (read pushed out of the house) by her parents under the guise of buying dog food (which she very much knew was in the house, but she wasn't going to say anything).

So here she was. Meandering around Diagon Alley, window-shopping dress robes, perusing ice cream flavors (and ultimately buying none)

But alas, she tried (keyword tried) to maintain the pretense of being responsible, so, here she was in the Magical Menagerie, a place filled with gentle meows and chirps, interwoven with the mingling scent of hay and sugar and spices, trying to find more (unnecessary) pet food for it Althea.

Broken out of her musings by a baritone voice asking if she needed any help, her attention snapped to an elderly looking man dressed in a flannel shirt, glasses hanging off his nose, a man who looked every inch a grandfather. But in any case, Ernest Witticker's fashion sense was not what she dwelled upon.

"Uh- dog food, sir."

And wasn't that eloquent? Quite charming if she were to say so herself.

But he smiled kindly, gesturing at her to follow him.

"Dog food? Down this aisle Miss."

So she followed him, lagging at the gentle rumblings of cats as people scratched under their chins, owls hooting softly, toads croaking, mice squeaking, a true menagerie of animals.

But one animal stood out to her and she stopped.

Ferrets. Or rather, a ferret. Bobbing up and down and squeaking, silver fur glinting under the light above him.

"His name's Cygnus. He's been here for the past few weeks. You can hold him if you want."

Quite honestly, Danaë had somewhat forgotten the man existed for a few minutes, eyes solely focused on the ferret in front of her. And so she held her hands out, tucking the ferret close to her.

"Oh!" her voice exclaimed, gentler, softer even, barely touching a whisper, "Hello darling."

She couldn't stop herself from caressing the underside of Cygnus's chin, and then she knew. Knew that even out of the number of cats, over owls, even over the other ferrets that were clamoring for her attention, that she would choose Cygnus.

Because this ferret? This small silver animal that chose to take its place on her shoulder, already taking up a space in her heart? Cygnus was meant to be hers. Her hand lightly stroking the fur on Cygnus's back, the jingle of galleons and sickles reminded her of what she was doing. And the dog food could wait, she knew they had an extra bag in the back of a cabinet somewhere in the kitchen, that being kicked out was just an excuse for her parents to have an hour or two to themselves.

"How much is he?"

wordcount.
626 words

animal.
ferret

name.
cygnus

gender.
boy

dob.
1-12-22