Eshu's Daughter

Ch. 3 The Other Side of London

Professor McGonagall sailed ahead of the families like a clipper, with witches and wizards in their funny robes falling to either side in her wake. She moved so purposefully that Kit had trouble identifying the various shops they passed. Of course that might have had as much to do with the bizarre items in the shop windows as with the professor's long strides.

"We will begin our tour with Gringotts Wizarding Bank," Professor McGonagall called over her shoulder.

She led Kit and the other families toward a tall white building at the end of the cobbled street. Stone columns framed a pair of massive bronze doors gleaming richly in the afternoon light.

A child stood by one of the doors in a scarlet and gold uniform. As they drew closer, Kit noticed the large head, the awkward, squat body. No child had ever had such long fingers, wickedly sharp nails, or such cold, emotionless black eyes. Eyes that watched Kit with shrewd, calculating formality and made her shiver. It can't be human. The thing inclined its head and gave what might have passed for a smile. The row of razored teeth it bared reminded her of a shark smiling at its dinner.

Kit's mom panicked and began to drag her back toward the street, catching Kit off-balance. She stumbled, falling against her mom and then hitting the ground with a painful smack. Kit closed her eyes, humiliated, knowing everyone was probably staring at her and wondering if she was retarded or something. Her mother's shrill voice broke into her thoughts, "Kit! Are you all right?" Just ignore her, this is all her fault. Kit sighed and opened her eyes to find her dad offering his hand, she allowed him to pull her up, keeping her eyes fixed on one of the doors so she wouldn't have to look at anyone. Too bad she didn't know how to make herself invisible, there was probably some sort of spell.

"Please don't be alarmed," Professor McGonagall said, ignoring Kit's tussle with the cobblestones. "There are many creatures in the magical world that may at first seem frightening. No harm will come to you or your children during our tour. This is Bladgar. He's a goblin." The professor pointed toward the grinning creature, which gave a low bow to the hesitant crowd. Don't goblins eat children? Maybe her mom had the right idea, staying as far back from the goblin as she could.

"Gringotts is run and staffed by goblins. They are very clever creatures, excellent mathematicians and the best guards any bank could employ. Valuables stored at Gringotts are more secure than a non-magical bank could ever make them." As she spoke Professor McGonagall led them through a second set of doors, this time silver, and into an immense marble-lined hall. Goblins surrounded them on all sides, sitting behind long counters, adding up large stacks of gold coins, assisting other witches and wizards.

"We have begun our tour here," Professor McGonagall continued, "because this will likely be your first stop on any visit to Diagon Alley. You may exchange British currency at Gringotts for the wizarding currency that is used in Diagon Alley and the magical world."

Another goblin, dressed in the same livery as the first, approached Professor McGonagall with a wide silver tray. Small piles of gold, silver and bronze coins were heaped on it. "Thank you, Griphook," the professor said, bending to select one coin from each stack.

"Wizarding money consists of gold Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts." Professor McGonagall held up each of the coins in turn as she spoke. "There are seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. The current exchange rate is five pounds to a Galleon." She placed the coins back onto the tray and Griphook carried it away.

"You may choose to exchange money here at the bank on each of your trips to Diagon Alley or you may set up an account for your children. If you set up an account, your wizarding money will be stored here in the bank's vaults. Any of the teller-goblins," she motioned toward a row of goblins seated behind the longest counter, "can help you with the exchange process."

"Are there any questions?" the professor asked looking at them expectantly. Most of the families were huddled close together drawing away from the goblins surrounding them. Faced with such unfriendly looking creatures no one seemed willing to speak up. Except, of course, for Colin and his brother, who had both begun pelting their father with questions in identical excited whispers.

"Stay close to me, Devon," one of the women hissed quietly at her son. He was a rather short, plain-looking boy dressed in a nasty maroon suit. He stared coolly back at Kit's curious gaze, the edge of his lip curling unpleasantly. Kit recognized him as one of the boys that had sneered at her earlier. There was a white splotch on one corner of his lapel and his mud brown hair stuck up over one ear. Don't know why you're looking so smug, Kit thought, at least I'm not wearing my breakfast. Kit smiled sweetly at him and was rewarded with a scowl.

Professor McGonagall led the group back outside the bank. There was more than one relieved sigh as the bright sunshine of Diagon Alley surrounded them again. Spencer, however, stared over his shoulder at Bladgar as they exited, his eyes curious.

They continued down the street, visiting various shops and meeting the proprietors. Kit and the other children stared at large brass telescopes, were instructed on how to select the proper parchment and quills, and were bored silly with a discussion on the merits of various cauldron types. By the time the group exited Flourish and Blotts Bookshop, Kit's brain had shut down. Like an overstuffed potato sack, there just wasn't room for one more bit of information.

As the tour was winding down Professor McGonagall reminded them that each of the children could bring an owl, a cat or a toad with them to Hogwarts. She was quick to add that animals were entirely optional, however, after Devon's mother began muttering about familiars.

"On September first you will take the school train from King's Cross Station to Hogwarts." With a wave of the professor's wand tiny envelopes appeared, hovering in front of each of the students. Kit seized hers quickly. Despite everything they had experienced today, seeing magic actually used was still unsettling. Colin stood goggling at his for a full minute before finally reaching for it.

"You will find your tickets for the Hogwart's Express inside these envelopes. Please make sure that you do not mislay them between now and September first. You cannot get onto the platform without them. The train leaves from Platform nine and three-quarters promptly at eleven." Several of the children stared. Kit heard one of the women whisper to her husband, "Platform what?"

"You must arrive at the station no later than 10:00 am. You are to wait near the ticket counter where a Hogwarts representative will meet you and guide students onto the train."

Professor McGonagall gestured toward one of the squat buildings nearby. "You will recall from our earlier visit that you may send letters and parcels from the Diagon Alley Post Office. You may also, of course, use a private delivery owl if you purchase one, and the Hogwarts school owls are always available for any correspondence your children may wish to send you. You should contact myself or the school with any questions you think of after you leave today."

Kit rubbed her fingers across the envelope she had tucked into her pocket while Professor McGonagall continued, "As I stated this morning, those who desire to do so may shop for their school supplies now. The rest of you are welcome to come back at your leisure. I must remind you before you go that our laws are very strict with regard to sharing information about the magical community with non-magic people."

"By allowing your students to attend Hogwarts," she looked at them gravely, "both you and they are subject to those laws. You may not discuss Hogwarts or the magical world, its practices or existence with anyone outside your immediate family that is not also a part of the magical community."

Professor McGonagall shifted her gaze to the shorter members of the group. "Our world must remain a secret, even from your closest friends. Do you all understand?" The children nodded. Just as Kit was reflecting that she had no one to tell anyway, Spencer caught her eye and put a silencing finger to his lips, trying to look stern. Kit bit her tongue, trying not to giggle as the professor concluded the tour, gave them a thin-lipped smile and thanked them politely for attending.

The group slowly began to disperse. Some families returned to The Leaky Cauldron while others set out to explore the various stores surrounding them. Kit, pulling her hand free from her mother's, moved determinedly toward Professor McGonagall.

"Excuse me," she said, "you mentioned that we can bring a pet to Hogwarts."

The professor nodded, her expression curious.

"Can we bring an animal besides the three you mentioned?"

The professor raised an eyebrow. "Well yes, within reason," she said. "There are a few students at Hogwarts with animals other than the ones I listed. We did not visit the Magical Menagerie, but if you ask the proprietress she can tell you which animals are permitted."

"Thank you!" Kit's heart leapt. If her parents agreed, she'd be able to select almost any pet she wanted. She turned back to her parents, looking at them hopefully. "Please say I can have a pet. I promise, I'll be very responsible," she begged. "Please."

"What would we do with a pet during your school breaks?" her dad said gently. "Just because you'll be away at school for most of the year–" he paused for a moment to clear his throat and his voice was gruff when he continued, "doesn't change the fact that we can't cart an animal all over the globe."

"I'll get something small then! Please, Dad," Kit said searching her mind frantically for a way to convince him. "I bet all the other kids will have animals with them. I'll really stand out if I don't have one. And besides I'll need a friend while I'm at school. I won't get lonely if I have a pet with me." Kit wondered anxiously if that last had been a bit much. She didn't want them changing their minds again about letting her attend Hogwarts.

Her mom sounded tired when she interjected, "Oh, just let her get a pet, Michael. We'll deal with any problems when they come up." She glanced resentfully at the many people now crowding the street. "I'm sure this lot have some way of getting an animal past the Ministry of Agriculture."

Her dad looked like he wanted to argue, but he merely nodded. "Nothing too big, Kit," he said, frowning. "And nothing dangerous either. We are not keeping a tiger cub or whatever the magical equivalent of that is." Kit beamed and took her mother's hand, dragging her down the road toward the bank.

After exchanging some money at Gringott's the three of them wandered around Diagon Alley picking out Kit's school supplies. They selected several large rolls of parchment, a box of striped quills and a bottle of shimmery blue ink that smelled like blueberries. Kit also found a packet of personalized stationary to write her parents while she was at school; each cream-colored page was embossed with a rearing unicorn and a large letter K at the top. She was especially fond of the little gold unicorn seals that came with the set; tiny golden sparks shot from unicorns' horns.

Her schoolbooks were easily selected, along with a set of basic potions ingredients and a modest pewter cauldron. Soon Kit had almost everything her supply list had mentioned, as well as a few extras, including a pair of color-changing earmuffs and a book entitled An Introduction to the Magical World. "What every Muggle-born witch and wizard needs to know" the book jacket promised. All she needed now was a wand.

Ollivander's Wand Shop was dim and dusty inside. An old man sat behind the shop counter polishing a wand with a ratty looking cloth. After one last swipe he set the wand on top of small pile near his elbow. His strange silver eyes flicked to Kit's parents as the three of them entered the shop, considered them for a moment, and then quickly moving on to Kit.

"Ahhh," he breathed in a thin, creaky voice, "here for your first wand I believe. Your family has never been in my shop before." Certainty underlined each word. He stepped out from behind the counter, hands tapping together. "But no matter, we'll find you the perfect wand."

Kit's mom stood beside her, feet planted slightly apart as the old man approached them. Kit half expected her to snarl at him, a mother lion protecting her cub. Near the shop door her dad stood watching . At least he didn't seem ready to pounce on the poor shopkeeper.

"I am Mr. Ollivander," the man said, looking at them expectantly.

"Michael and Emma Ellsington, this is our daughter, Kristin," her dad said curtly.

Mr. Ollivander's eyes widened and his voice was curious when he asked, "Forgive me, but your accent, you're American?" Even Kit could hear the underlying question in that. Who on earth traveled an ocean just to buy a wand? She supposed there must be other wand shops, although judging by the number of boxes piled up to the roof, Mr. Ollivander was prepared in case they all went out of business tomorrow.

Kit's dad moved forward, his body so rigid every inch proclaimed him a military officer. "We live in England at the moment. Kit will be attending Hogwarts." His voice was dismissive, but Kit recognized a note of challenge in it.

She jumped in quickly, "We're buying my school supplies and we were told to come to you for a wand." She smiled, hesitant but hopeful.

Mr. Ollivander smiled back, the merest lift of his lips and a shifting of wrinkles. "Well this is the right place for that. We have thousands of wands, each unique. Which is your wand hand, hmmm? Right I'd guess." Kit nodded and the old man whipped out a long tape measure. "Extend your arm, please. I'll just need to get a few measurements."

Mr. Ollivander prattled on as he measured Kit's arm, her hand, from her shoulder to elbow. He spoke at length about the various woods he used, the magical cores of each of the wands, how long the shop had been in business. He was so involved in detailing his craft he measured Kit's hand twice more and never seemed to notice.

Finally he hurried away down one of the long aisles, humming as he plucked box after box from the towering stacks. His arms were completely hidden under a pile of boxes when he returned, silver eyes just visible over the top. Setting the lot down on the counter amidst a scattered pile of wood shavings, he sorted through them, considering, lingering over some, quickly passing others, fingers wriggling like excited caterpillars.

"Which one, which one ... ah yes, we'll try this one first," he muttered softly to himself. He selected a box wrapped in so much dust it resembled a fuzzy gray brick. Shaking the box so that it sent up a cloud of dust, he lifted the lid carefully and plucked a beautifully carved wand from the red satin lining. It glowed an orangey-yellow in the dim light, swirls of color blending together like melted ice cream.

Hearing a huff from beside her, Kit looked up to find her mom glaring at the dust still hovering thickly in the air. She practically trembled with the need to clean up the mess the shopkeeper was making. Kit imagined Mr. Ollivander, old as he was, would probably keel over from shock if her mom actually started wiping down the counter.

"Why don't you give this a wave," Mr. Ollivander said, drawing Kit's attention back to him as he presented the wand with a flourish. "Yew, nine and three-quarters inches, with a dragon heartstring core, very flexible." He sounded like a proud father listing the vital statistics of his child.

Kit cradled the wand loosely for a moment, staring at it, then grasped the handle with more confidence. A warm tingle raced up her arm, making her stomach quiver. She didn't have to be told what to do. With a tiny swish she flicked the wand tip forward as though casting a fishing line. Yellow sparks shot from the end, formed themselves into a small hawk and then shattered. The brief flare of light illuminated the shop like a flashbulb before ebbing back into nothingness.

Kit's mom gasped, taking several hurried steps backward to cling to her husband. Her fingers were white where they gripped his arm and he looked at Kit as though she'd become a stranger, his eyes blank and empty.

"Dad, are you ok?" Kit asked, alarmed by the look in his eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you." Her heart ached painfully, shattered by their apparent fear. The blank look left her dad's face, replaced by love and a great deal of uncertainty.

"It's alright, Kit," he said in a dry, raspy voice, "it was just a bit of a shock." He laughed, but it was a short, bitter sound. "Don't know why we still would be after all that's happened, but well–"

Mr. Ollivander stepped forward, concern in every wrinkle. "There is a chair," he said gesturing to a pile of sticks that even an optimist wouldn't have risked sitting on. "Kristin is the first in your family with magic?" he asked gently. Her father made a noncommittal sound that could have meant anything.

"We hadn't any idea. And then that letter came, and here we are. And everything is so ... well, un-nerving," her mother said, looking embarrassed, but regaining her composure.

Mr. Ollivander pursed his lips, gave a sympathetic 'tut' and turned back to Kit. His eyes lightened with interest as they rested on her. "Perhaps you could try waving that wand again?" he said with an odd note in his voice.

With a nervous smile and a slight fluttering in her chest, Kit flicked the wand tip forward. Just as before, yellow sparks shot from the end and formed themselves into the hawk. Only this time the hawk's wings flapped, sending out more sparks as it soared upward, propelling itself into the ceiling. With a soundless explosion the hawk shattered, sparks raining down like a shower of gold.

Surprise arched Mr. Ollivander's brows upward, drawing his many wrinkles tight. Kit glanced at her parents. They seemed to be over their first shock, although they were trying to edge away from the sparks falling around them.

A scrabbling noise drew Kit's attention back to the counter and Mr. Ollivander, sorting through the boxes. He pulled another box out from among its fellows, this one bright and shiny black, no trace of dust marring its surface. Opening the box he revealed another wand, this one a light-colored wood and quite a bit longer than the one Kit held. Taking out the wand Mr. Ollivander turned back to her.

"If you could just try this one for me," he said, holding it out. Kit tightened her grip on the first wand, not wanting to hand it back. Mr. Ollivander was waiting, however, so Kit reluctantly switched wands. He did not put the other wand away, just held it and watched.

The new wand's handle felt smooth and cool in her palm. No tingle – nothing. Under Mr. Ollivander's expectant gaze, Kit raised the wand and flicked the tip forward, uncertain what to expect. Tiny silver sparks, more like sand particles than anything else, fluttered from the end and vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.

A perplexed frown settled between Mr. Ollivander's bushy brows. "Hmm," he muttered. He took back the new wand and tucked the first into his pocket before selecting another box. He presented yet another wand to Kit and watched her closely as she flicked it. Again tiny sparks flew out and disappeared almost immediately. "Quite remarkable," he said, very low. Mr. Ollivander stared at Kit, seeming distracted.

"It is clear that the first wand favors you," he said, almost reluctant. He pulled the wand out of his pocket and rubbed it absently, as one would stroke a pet. "I remember the dragon quite well that this wand core came from," he said abruptly, returning the wand to its case and holding it out to Kit. "He was a great black brute, larger than any dragon I'd ever seen. I still have the singe marks on my work robes from where he tried to roast me when I attempted to place a charm on him. Never had such trouble getting a wand core. I could only get the one; if I'd remained near him any longer I would not be standing here now."

Kit wondered if she should apologize for her wand, for the trouble it had given him. He had certainly been less chatty since she'd first tried it. But why would he have brought the wand out if he wasn't willing to sell it? Mr. Ollivander's pale silver eyes, locked on her face once more, stilled the apology in her throat. "That will be seven Galleons, three Sickles," he said, moving back behind the counter.

Her parents paid Mr. Ollivander and hustled Kit to the door. Despite their denials, Kit knew the shop made them nervous. Mr. Ollivander had lapsed into silence again and was staring out the window, seeming to have forgotten them. Once they were outside the store, however, Kit felt the old man's eyes following her until she disappeared around the corner.

Now that Kit had everything she needed, she was anxious to visit the Magical Menagerie, despite her parents obvious reluctance. They found the tiny shop at the opposite end of Diagon Alley, jammed tight between two larger buildings. Every kind of cage and crate seemed to be spilling from the shop and onto the street in front.

Her parents looked tired and Kit could tell they were ready to go home. "You go ahead into the shop, while your mother and I wait out here," her dad said, tipping some gold coins into Kit's free hand while he juggled their purchases.

Her dad looked significantly at her mom and Kit knew they'd be talking about her the second she was out of earshot. Through every single shop, and even while Kit was being fitted for her robes, her mom hadn't let go of Kit's hand. She didn't seem any more willing to do so now.

"For goodness sakes, Emma, let her go," her dad sighed. "We'll be right here. Kit's not going to disappear on you." He squeezed her mom's arm reassuringly.

Her mom hesitantly loosened her grip and Kit slipped inside the shop. She flexed her fingers, trying to return some feeling to them. "I know this is hard darling..." Kit heard her dad saying before his voice was drowned out by the noise of the shop.

Countless cages and crates crowded the aisles, stacked one on top of the other, rising right up to the ceiling. Kit gaped at some of the unusual creatures, shocked to find things she'd never imagined. There was a large wire mesh cage filled with small custard-colored balls of fur that looked startlingly like Tribbles. And a glass fish tank at her feet packed with silver-green lizards that seemed to grow smaller as she bent to look at them.

The reflection of a fireplace in the glass caught Kit's attention, and her jaw dropped as she thought she saw one of the logs squirm. Moving closer, Kit peered into the flames and was relieved to find that the squirming was the result of a dozen or so lizards scampering over the wood. Salamanders! She looked up from the fire and found herself staring back at a particularly large, bow-legged ginger cat perched on the mantel.

He gave a rumbling purr before leaning his huge fluffy head against her hair, demanding attention. She reached up and rubbed behind his ears as she looked around the rest of the shop in amazement. While there were animals everywhere, she had yet to see a shopkeeper. Was that rabbit over there ... purple?

The cat leaped to the ground and padded farther back into the store. Turning his head he yowled at Kit as though encouraging her to follow. Intrigued, she trailed behind the cat's bushy orange tail past crates of jeweled turtles; wet, lumpy, toads; and a strange Jack Russell Terrier with a forked tail.

The farther back in the store they moved, the less noisy it became. Many of the crates Kit passed now were empty, waiting for new residents. The cat finally stopped in front of a small wooden crate sitting by itself against the back wall. The door of the crate was fitted with iron bars, and no less than three fat brass padlocks secured the door.

Kit bent down to peer into the crate cautiously, wondering what sort of creature required so many precautions. She blinked in shock when she realized a tiny, sweet-looking hedgehog was the only occupant.

Dropping to her knees she looked with interest at the spiky mass of quills, edging closer to the bars. The little creature snuffled a bit and also moved closer, its inquisitive black eyes seeming to consider her. The hedgehog had a cute teeny brown nose on the end of its long snout, and little pink paws peeked from beneath its body. Dark brown quills tipped with cream covered its back, making it look like a fanciful scrub brush. There was nothing menacing or in the least bit threatening about it.

The huge ginger cat had settled himself beside Kit on the floor, looking between her and the hedgehog expectantly. He moved very quickly, however, when the quiet was shattered by a loud shriek. The cat dashed toward a row of nearby crates and vanished as a woman wrapped in a green apron appeared in the back doorway.

"Oh, oh," the woman gasped clutching her heart and hanging onto a stack of crates which teetered precariously. "Please don't get any closer to that cage, dear."

Kit stood up slowly as the woman began to wring her hands and continued in a breathless voice, "I've never had such a start as when I saw you sitting there. If you'd tried to open it..." her voice dropped off in horror at the very idea.

"I have to get rid of that awful thing," the woman said to herself. There were actually tears in her eyes now. "I never should have taken the terrible creature. If I'd realized what it was ... Scared away half a dozen customers. Ruined my favorite peonies. Ate an entire shipment of Billywigs. Bit me when I finally got it down off the ceiling..." Her voice faded again as she glared at the padlocked crate.

Kit stared at the woman in disbelief. She was having a fit over a hedgehog? Clearly the woman was insane. "Ummm, it's only a hedgehog," Kit said hesitantly.

The shopkeeper rounded on her shouting, "That is no hedgehog! That abomination is a knarl and the most foul-tempered one it has ever been my misfortune to come across. I'll be taking it to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures tomorrow and not a moment too soon," she gave a shudder. "Makes me nervous just having it in the shop."

Kit gasped. "You're going to kill that poor little creature?" Even if the animal was as bad as the shopkeeper seemed to think, which Kit sincerely doubted, there had to be some other way of dealing with the situation. Release the hedgehog in the wild, give it to someone else, anything except kill it.

"That thing is a menace!" the woman insisted. She looked at Kit narrowly. "You're a Muggle-born, I suppose, and not a clue in the world about the dangers of some animals," she huffed.

"I know enough to realize that creature doesn't deserve to be killed!" Kit replied, her voice crackling with anger.

"I suppose you think you can handle a knarl? That it will be a sweet little pet?" the woman asked with a patronizing smirk, sarcasm coloring each word.

"I could certainly do a better job than you have," Kit said with a scathing look at the padlocked crate. "Just because you can't handle him is no reason to murder an innocent animal."

The shopkeeper's face had gone blotchy purple with rage. She whipped out a set of keys from her apron pocket and began undoing the locks on the hedgehog's crate. "We'll just see how well you deal with him, then," she snapped, yanking open the door and stepping back.

Kit knelt swiftly and picked up the hedgehog before the woman could reconsider. It was barely big enough to fill her cupped palms. The hedgehog snuggled into her hands and looked docilely up at the shopkeeper towering over them. Kit heard a strangled gasp and looked up in time to see the woman's face go rigid with shock.

"H-h-how did you...?" the woman stumbled in confusion. Her eyes sharpened on Kit, "You gave him some sort of potion. There's no other explanation."

"I did not," Kit said, irritated. "I'd only just arrived when you came out."

The woman seemed to dismiss her words and reached to take the hedgehog from her. It happened so quickly that Kit never even had a chance to cry out in surprise. The sweet little hedgehog became a whirl of snarling, gnashing teeth and claws. While it didn't so much as scratch Kit, it was clearly intent on doing damage to anyone else that tried to touch it. The shopkeeper drew back with a frightened squeal.

She looked at Kit fearfully. "That's impossible; this can't be happening. It took two fully trained creature-handlers to get him in that crate. They said they'd never seen a knarl as vicious. How can you be holding him if he's not drugged?"

The knarl, Kit realized now it couldn't possibly be a hedgehog, settled once again to nuzzling her fingers. It made a little humming sound of contentment and looked up at her with an innocent expression.

"Put it back in the crate," the woman said urgently, "before it gets loose again."

Kit couldn't look away from the knarl's cute little face. "No." Her voice was faint but it grew stronger with each word, "No, I won't let you kill him." Her heart gave a painful thump at the thought of the knarl being exterminated like some sort of cockroach.

"Be reasonable," the shopkeeper pleaded, "You saw how dangerous that animal is. He's only pretending to be nice to you now. Just put him back in the crate."

"I'll buy him," Kit said abruptly. "I won't put him back in that crate to be killed. But I will buy him." She looked up at the woman, "I'm very good with animals and he likes me. You'd still be getting rid of him," she added seeing the indecision on the woman's face.

"Look," Kit said, "I'm not putting him back in there no matter what you decide. At least this way, you'll get paid for getting rid of him."

The shopkeeper just looked at them, clearly trying find any way to avoid giving Kit the knarl. Kit could almost feel sorry for her. The woman really didn't have many options. If she tried to pick up the knarl again he'd attack her, she couldn't force Kit to put the animal back in its cage as long as Kit still held him, and she'd already glanced at the front of the shop to see that they were completely alone. Kit prayed her parents would stay outside for a little while longer.

"Alright," the woman agreed, shoulders slumping, "take him then. I won't charge you for him though. I couldn't sell that creature in good conscience." She backed away from them both.

Rummaging around in a bin near the counter the shopkeeper pulled out a small, fleece-lined, black pouch with long straps attached. "You can carry him in this," she said holding out the pouch. "It eats fruit and small insects," she added as an afterthought.

Kit slid the knarl into the sack without a single hiss or snap, and not one claw so much as grazed her. She tied the straps at her waist so that the pouch and its silent passenger rode low on one hip.

Laying a Galleon on the counter in return for the pouch Kit turned to leave the shop. She paused at the door, not wanting to say anything and yet needing to. "Thank you. You won't regret letting me keep him."

The shopkeeper watched them retreat through the door, her eyes still frightened. Kit had the unsettling thought that she feared Kit every bit as much as the knarl.

Her parents were still talking quietly when Kit stepped outside. They broke off, looking inquiringly at the black pouch. Kit opened it tentatively and showed them the knarl, now curled up fast asleep. She'd been afraid he'd begin snarling and snapping as soon as the sack was opened, and she sagged with relief.

Her mom smiled saying, "Oh, look at the cute little hedgehog." She sounded relieved. Kit supposed they'd been dreading what sort of magical creature she might return with. Certainly a hedgehog was nothing to worry about. With only the slightest pang of guilt Kit decided not to enlighten them.