A Morning of Chaos

Humming a tune softly to herself, Cyrna searched the kitchen for the milk and finally spotted it in a large jug by an open window. She went to grab it, and was about to pour it into a bowl of flour for her pancakes when, from the corner of her eye, she saw something white hurtling towards her.

With a shriek, she jumped to the side, her elbow colliding hard against the edge of the counter. Cursing loudly, she felt her arm go numb and watched in dismay as the jug of milk crashed onto the ground.

She spun towards the kitten she had just saved. "You!"

It was a foot away, lapping the milk off the kitchen tiles. Hearing her voice, it peered curiously at her.

Her irritation slowly ebbed. It was unfairly—she had to stress again—cute for a creature that had, singlehandedly, woken her up at dawn, set her recovery back, and had injured her elbow. She picked him up by the scruff and informed it, "You might not be a black cat, but you're bad luck."

The kitten mewed in her hold and licked the drop of milk that had splashed onto her face. "Stop that!" she scolded, even as she squished the bundle of fur against her. "Look at what you've done!"

She shifted her hold, forcing it to face the mess, and the kitten, in response, simply jumped out of her hold to lap up the rest of the milk.

Cyrna settled onto the ground to watch it, arching a brow when it padded back to her once it had its fill. It jumped into her lap, and she had to refrain from squealing with glee. "As if you deserve pats," she said half-heartedly, running her hands through the softest fur ever.

One of its blue eyes blinked opened then closed. The kitten nuzzled deeper into her lap.

Cyrna only knew that time had indeed passed when she heard a gasp. Looking up, she saw that Perenelle was hiding a smile. Nicolas took one look at the scene and broke into a guffaw. "Well, your strays seem to be getting along."

"Oh hush," said Perenelle.

"I reckon you've got a real talent for breaking things, don't you?" Nicolas said with a hint of exasperation. With a flick of his wand, the mess vanished, and her clothes were magically dried as well.

Cyrna blushed. "Sorry."

"I feel the same for myself—" Nicolas began, but he cleared his throat as Perenelle gave him a disapproving look. "Ah, no need to say a word, Perenelle. I'll just head to the dining room."

When he was gone, Perenelle turned back to Cyrna with a large smile. "Don't worry, dear. Oh! This is simply the most entertaining day we've had in so many years!" Perenelle came over and gave the kitten an affectionate look. "This little one's a little rascal—always making a mess of things whenever I try to feed it." She seemed thoughtful. "Hasn't let me touch it either."

Cyrna felt awfully skeptical about that with her lapful of cat.

Perenelle laughed. "Well, you'll feel like you're running into a wall if you try to figure out why a cat does what it does. Anyways, it seems to like you, so why not keep it around? Spoil them, and they will be your greatest friend—especially when you're sad. Treat them with respect, and they will be a fiercely loyal defender in times of trouble."

"That… was not subtle." Perenelle was definitely telling her to take the kitten as her familiar.

The woman blinked innocently. "Did I imply something? Oh dear, with my age, I must have forgotten."

The kitten woke up with a cute little yawn, and Perenelle laughed when she saw that Cyrna's eyes were glued on the cat. With a happy whistle, Perenelle walked out the kitchens.

"I hate you, you know," Cyrna said miserably to the kitten whose pupils had narrowed into slits, purring in contentment.

Leaping onto her shoulders, it draped itself across them. Cyrna giggled when the languid sweep of its tail waved softly against her face. Unable to resist, Cyrna reached over and tickled the bottom of its ears, watching in secret delight as it flicked its ears and gave a little sneeze.

Eyes clear with accusation peered at her, and Cyrna's heart was stolen. "You're unfairly adorable," she told it.

It meowed.

"We'll need a name for you. Cat, Kitty—"

It hissed.

"Don't be fussy. Even if my naming skills are shit, you're not any less cute for it," she told it, and she swore that if cats could look unimpressed, then that was exactly what it was doing. Cyrna heaved a sigh. Maybe she should give it more effort? Holding the cat in front of her, she examined it closely and was surprised when it didn't struggle in her hold. Its eyes shone with intelligence; according to Perenelle, it was quite cold to people; it could be nasty too. Cyrna thought it was almost a bit pretentious. And right now, the arched look it was giving her reminded her so much of—

Snape. One of her favourite characters from the books. But it wasn't like she could name her cat so blatantly after a professor that might teach her if she got into Hogwarts. She thought for a moment. "How about Prince?"

She was sure Snape would just write it off as a coincidence if he ever learnt of its name.

The kitten cocked its head as if thinking. After a while, it flicked its tail and gave a lofty nod of approval. Then, it wiggled out of her hold and dashed towards the dining room where the Flamels had gathered for breakfast. When it reached the tall wooden doors, the kitten scratched it once, giving Cyrna an imperious look.

Once she opened it, the kitten fluffed out its tail and strolled in, head held high. Cyrna hid her smile as she followed it in.

Stepping past the grand mahogany doors, Cyrna took in the sight of Perenelle, who greeted her with a gentle smile, and Nicolas, whose smirk was touched with good humour. The sunlight streaming through the arched windows bathed the room in a warm, inviting glow, and as she walked towards them with her new companion leading the way, she allowed a small, genuine smile to spread across her lips.