Lungs full of air, a small blond haired figure began to scream.

“DAAAAAAADDYYYYYYY!”

Every muscle in Edward Pratt’s body tensed as Charlie Pratt tugged on his father’s last twitching nerve with a yell to rival a crazed banshee for the gazillionth time that morning. Edward contemplated murder for the gazillionth time that afternoon. He was an auror, Charlie was small and not well known, and Ed could get away with it if he was smart.

“Charlie,” the auror hissed, evidently straining not to yell himself. “be quiet or Daddy will silence ye for a week.” The look in Pratt’s eyes was murderous, his body bent down to make eye contact with the small toddler in the pushchair.

The young lad’s eyes widened as he stared at his father. Ed, satisfied that for a moment he could turn back to face the till point, waiting in the queue while holding up the owl cage. Inside the cage sat Krabby, the old Pratt family owl, slumped against the bars and looking very peaky. That was what happened when a toddler force fed his miniature model Quidditch team to the owl sat on the window sill.

The queue moved forwards slightly and Eddie glanced down to the pushchair to see an empty seat and no blond haired boy.
“Charlie?!”

"What is with this frocking line?"

It almost made you want to steal and not case the joint off the knowledge of jewel encrusted shelled tortoise fire crab whatzits had come in. Dotty was hurting bad for funds and drunk or sober she knew getting a massive reptile out of a shop required exit strategy. It wasn't as if a flying squirrel could drag out a reptile but that would have been a more discreet version of surveillance. She thought of that too late now being in line with the whoevers getting pets groomed and odd creatures bizarred, whatever that meant, and she was stuck near the back with a bag of Rodent Nuts. Actual legumes and not the first image that popped into her mind but even she wanted to snack in her animal form sometimes.

"Guhhh...!" Her head was thrown back, face smothered in the bag of nuts as if it was a kill pillow, the sound unappreciative to a witch with three eyed frogs. Dotty ingored the diss missive look and cast her eyes about the same stretch of shop for the umpteenth time.

However this time there was a change, namely something short and blond transfixed by a cage of rats skipping rope with their long tails, right next to a bargain bin of owl treats. And that, little guy, is the important life lesson about the inevitability of death. Dotty didn't actually say that but she grinned wildly all the same.

"Hey there little guy!" She crouched down to his eye level. Dotty liked kids, in the sense of whatever kids were doing she the immature dropout witch was likely to do as well. Plus to check if they were babies with candy. "You like those skipping rats, don't yah?"

In a matter of seconds every terrible thing that could possibly happen to Charlie Pratt ran through his father’s head. Each idea possibly made more graphic by Ed’s profession as an auror. This was exactly why hexing the kid to his pushchair was not as terrible an idea as his ex-wife had made out. Ed’s back had been turned for a mere moment and the blond haired terror was nowhere to be seen.

“Charlie?” The auror’s voice had gained volume as his panicked gaze shot around the store, his body twisting 360° on the heel of his boot. Would the accio spell work on a toddler? He’d never even considered that idea until now. Yet instead the owl was dropped into the pushchair, the space was abandoned in the queue and Eddie marched through the store after the toddler that apparently had the ability to toddle far too fast.

Fortunately a mop of messy blond hair was spotted down an aisle. Unfortunately there was a taller figure next to the auror’s son dressed in what was most decided an appalling jumper. Feet pounded down the aisle and a large hand grabbed the smaller hand of the boy that was busy poking his fingers into a cage full of rats.

“What the hell have I said about running off, lad?” The auror reprimanded the child, bending down once more to make eye contact with his spawn. After a moment, the green gaze travelled up to a face framed by scraggly unkempt hair.

“Who the ‘eck are you?”

Sadly, the kid had no candy. What depraved parenting had he been victim to? You always got a treat from the store if you screamed loud enough, or fought your sister for hers.

Dotty leaned back, still in a half crouch but edged taller thanks to her thick soled shoes. Her hand fished in the pocket of her vomited yellow and other colors hoodie with all the squiggly doodles on it, searching for a candy bar. She really wanted one now after all this thought on candy but she didn't have one on her, which sucked.

There was a shout and jostle of line ahead and an oldish blond guy (well, oldish for a twenty something) came down hollering at the kid, a quick reprimand, before shifting his shifty gaze to Dotty.

Presumably the kid's dad, they had the same skin tone. "This thing yours?" She made a noise between a scoff and a snort. "I'm the chick who was watching your kid, unlike some other people." She giggled at the stroller. "You let the owl ride around and leave the kid free range, what kind of father are you?" Not that her upbringing demonstrated any positive parenting but Dotty could tell bad parenting from just plain silly.

“Want rat!” Came the quiet response from the small toddler on the floor as he turned from his worried father to the rat’s cage next to them.

For a moment Ed stared at the young witch with his plain, auror expression, concealing the surprise at her comments. This only lasted a few seconds before he shrugged.

“Yeah, this thing’s mine.” Ed muttered, bending down and wrapping his arms around Charlie before lifting the fidgeting toddler up with a heave. With Charlie resting against Ed’s hip, he regarded the scrawny teenager once more. “Usually keep him chained up, see. I must have made the mistake of not locking them tight enough today.” It wasn’t worth arguing with a complete and scraggly looking stranger about his ability to be a decent father. Ed knew he was. He just couldn’t help that his spawn occasionally became demented and tried running away to-

“Rat!” The small child was pointing at the cage, trying to squirm free from his father’s clutches. “Rat! Rat! My rat!”

“No,” Eddie decided to correct his son, or act as if he was at least. “That’s a girl.”

"You chain him huh? Hardcore. We had neighbors that tried to tether their toddler with one of those monkey vest backpack leash things. He gnawed through the leash." To think that the father was being sarcastic was lost on Dotty.

At least the kid was an actual kid. Good lungs on him and vocal range to get what he was after. "Why don't you get him a pet rat? Featherbag in there looks to be on his last hoot." Dotty was much more sympathetic towards a rat than an owl. She despised owls. "He's cute. Cuter than you, mother must have been the looker."

"The hey--? Are you innituating? Innuendo-ing?" Damnit, what was that word? "I am not a rat! And I am not skipping in a cage."

It had been a quiet and sad day for Auror trainee Kirby Smurthwaite after the most expected departure of her pet cat 'Googles'. Googles had not only been Kirby's friend but also her pet through her whole magical life so far and now she was dead and buried. Kirby knew that it was time to search for her new pet and she also knew an owl would be much more use to her life now as she needed to keep contact with her acquaintances.

She gradually strolled into the menagerie her ginger locks behind her and instantly fell in love. Not with a human but a small white screech owl that sat in a small cage to the rear of the store she smiled instantly wanting the owl before noticing a familiar face. A guy she knew by sight but not by name who worked with her. "Oh Edward Hi!" she smiled in greeting heading to the back of the store to purchase the owl.

“Hey now!” Eddie responded, faking offence at her retort. So Charlie had definitely not toddled towards young Miss Brains had he? Maybe all youths were this dim-witted nowadays. Merlin knew the auror trainees were certainly their own brand of special. They were rules by hormones, tiredness and cognitive issues, Pratt was convinced. But that made it all the more fun to wind them up as a sport. “I said you weren’t a rat, lass. It’s me lad that got confused.”

“But…calling him cuter than me? Maybe he’s a good judge of character.”  The auror shrugged.

"Oh Edward Hi!"

Ed’s head span around to see how was greeting him so perkily. His brow creased. He recognised the face, the hair but a name wasn’t coming to him. Well, not her real name anyway.

“Perky…” He began, using the only name he’d ever bothered to use for her. As with most trainees, Eddie didn’t take the time to learn names. He had nicknames. “Ye don’t address a superior like that, lass. Even out of work.” The northern accent took on a stern tone as Eddie mildly reprimanded the young trainee. Not even his mates in the office called him Edward. No one called him Edward.

Kirby had always been taught back when she lived in the country of Ireland to refer to people as there full name as clearly she had never forgotten. She smiled kindly towards the man nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement as she brushed her ginger locks from within her face so she could see him better. "I'm sorry s...sir i guess old habits never fade!" she chipped her Irish accent fluent as she spoke before purchasing the owl of her choice. She gained the cage before heading over to where he was standing.

"Ahem," A sickly sweet introduction was followed by an equally sickly sweet smile. Rita Skeeter's gold teeth glinted as she bared her fangs to all that were in the vicinity. Her quick quotes quill was frantically scratching away at a roll of parchment that - every so often - rolled itself up carefully but quickly at the bottom, both to prevent any of its precious cargo from being damaged and from being read by eager eyes.

Rita focussed her attention on the young witch who had found the scarpering scamp. "Quincy St.James - that's the mother. You may have heard of her, or at least her family name. Well-to-do, upper-class. Most of the females in their family are socialites, but she's training to be a healer at St. Mungo's. An absolute beauty. She's popped out four sprogs in the mean time of course-" she flashed a sly glance at Edward Pratt, then smirked at the girl. "-they've been very busy since they left school." Holding her perfectly painted red talons up to her mouth, she mimicked suppressing a girly giggle.

She took a momentary step backwards and bent her head close to the quill. In a hushed tone she addressed it as a friend would when telling another of some juicy gossip, " 'Quincy St.James, once highly desired socialite, now wilting nursemaid to four equally adorable but demanding children, is distraught that ruggedly handsome but pitifully dim ex-husband lost their second-youngest child on what can only be described as the most basic of parenting tasks: a trip to the pet shop.' I trust you can finish the rest?" The quill whizzed up in the air performing spiralled acrobatics before continuing it's excited scribbles on the parchment.

"Your kid never was referring to me, he meant the actual rats!" Dotty shook the cage they were in, causing the rats to stop skipping. She was adamant about this point. Ever since she had seen the kid his primarily interest had been to climb up into the cage to skip with the rats, or however that exact childhood dream/pet want occurred. "You're the one going around putting the confusing judgemental thoughts into his head Mr. Chump."

Dotty didn't pay attention to the underling bat at the appearance of Old-Gossip-Lady she took an interest in the story. "Hah. He don't seem posh at all. What else is there to say about grumpy old chump here?" She gestured to Pratt, adjusting the hold on her bag of animal snacks.

The look Ed gave the ginger trainee was that of mild confusion. What old habits? Hogwarts always taught you to address those above you in the correct way. Never had he called a professor by their first name. Everything was surnames. Everything was polite and done the correct way. It was bad enough bumping into someone from work when he was out with his family but to have her address him so…strangely?

"Ahem," an elderly witch cleared her throat beside them and Pratt turned his head as he obviously required some attention. One may have almost certainly heard the inward groan Ed’s vocal chords most certainly produced when his eyes met those of Rita Skeeter. A journalist was certainly not an auror’s best friend. A journalist was to be avoided at all times. And this journalist was no ordinary journalist. She was the worst.

The witch who undoubtedly wore a wig began spinning some rubbish about Quincy being some upper class socialite and Ed’s eyes spotted the quill dancing in the air, scribbling upon the little notebook that hovered beside Skeeter.

“Nothing.” The auror stated sternly in response to the young witch’s question. Next his attention was on Skeeter.
“That’s what makes the news these days? You’re really struggling that much? I’m sure my trip to the shops will make the headlines. Everyone loves reading such exciting articles in the prophet, Skeeter.”

Rita chuckled at the girl's astute observation. "He's not posh, darling. Far from it, in fact. Almost a pauper in comparison to his estranged ex-wife." Rita was interrupted by Eddie, gruffly confirming that there was nothing else to tell.

"Oh, sweetheart," she cooed, placing a well-manicured hand on his lower arm and squeezing it gently, "This isn't for the Prophet." she shook her head as though affirming that she spoke the truth. "It's for Witch Weekly. The readers of my column have become quite taken with you and your little..." her eyes wandered to Pratt's brat, "...plight." She gave him a sympathetic smile, before turning her head back to the girl as though speaking to her aside.

"His wife had an affair, you know. With his best friend. Most unfortunate." She gave a gentle tut as she shook her head. "Most unfortunate...but then, from looking at their past, one can hardly blame her; three young children and a husband who preferred to be in the company of criminals? No wonder she fell into the arms of the devilishly handsome Healer."

The fiery red head glared across the room in the direction of the rude and arrogant blonde reporter. She scowled unamused as she stared blankly into space. "You have no right to be prying into people's business other then your own!" She sneered over to the reporter as her Irish accent fluenty shone through in her speech. "As you have no right prying on Mr. Pratt's past, so why don't you scurry away and find your story some place else?" She questioned clearly annoyed as she stood beside him.

"Ooooooooo!" Trashiness as good as bad television. "Though he doesn't look like the sort to accompany criminals either. Not scruffy enough." She did mental arithmetic of the kids. The little candy-less rat-lover, the owl in the stroller, and the last was invisible or existed elsewhere. "He can barely keep his hands on two, he must be whipped by three."

"Hey," Dotty called back to the interjectee. "....Matchstick head! Let's not use words we can't take back!" She had taken offensive at the word 'scurry' something the old if remarkably well preserved lady looked like she couldn't do without popping a joint. Dotty was also getting a craving for acorns, which wasn't a good sign given the length of time since her last transformation. It was a feeling like having an overfilled bladder only not a bladder but an urge to shrink into something small and fuzzy.