"Now, Gus, I know you didn't want to come with, but you really should have. It's hard to find the wand when the wizard isn't present, I just hope you haven't offended it."
"Mum, you can't offend wands. And if you could, I would either way. They don't like Squibs, I bet. No one does."
"Oh come off it! You're not a Squib!"
"I can't perform magic, and I didn't get a letter from Hogwarts. I'm. A. Squib."
"How many times do I have to tell you, Gussy? It must have gotten lost in the mail! Owls mess up sometimes!"
"Not a Hogwarts owl. Niobe says that they're more reliable that her pet one is."
"Speaking of pets..."
"We were speaking of Squibs."
"I bought you one!"
"You bought me a Squib?"
"No, Gus, I bought you a pet! A cat!"
"A cat? Can they carry letters too?"
"Well, no, but owls are incredibly expensive, and..."
"And you know I wont need one when I attend the muggle school down in the village."
"No! We just aren't as able this year to make ends meet, so much."
"We're better off than we were when you bought Niobe her owl."
"Come off it, we aren't, and you have no idea how good off we are or aren't!"
"Papa isn't as quiet as he thinks he is when he mutters."
"Come now, you'll like this kitten! She's very smart, from what Merotilna, from Diagon Alley, you remember her, told me."
As if on cue, the door opened. It was a rather beaten door, cedar wood, and towards the top someone had taped a piece of parchment against it that said, 'Argus.'
Argus had heard somewhere that the stripes on animals were so that they blended in amongst the trees and each other, but he thought the small kitten's stripes only served to make her stand out against his room. She looked up at him, watching him watch her. All the cats he'd ever known had enjoyed staring contests. This cat, however, did not seem up for it. Perhaps because she was so young, it was her attention span at work. She blinked at him, twice, slowly. It seemed the natural thing to do, so he blinked back. He didn't care if his hysterical mother was beaming on the other side of the door, he was too busy studying the yellow quality of the kitten's lamp-like eyes. She seemed to be equally as fascinated with the shade of blue in the confines of his own.
"I'm going to name him Noris," he announced to the door.
"It's a girl-cat," came the now quivering voice of the witch behind the door.
"I'm going to name her Mrs. Noris."
"That's a lovely name."
"Yeah. Thanks for the cat, mum. She's really nice."
"I knew you'd love her, Gus."
"No you didn't," he muttered bitterly under his breath, "You knew she was cheap, and you knew I was a Squib, not worth an owl." The cat took a few ginger steps forward and nudged the door closed with her head, with some effort.
"It's just as well," he said, his voice, still quiet, now soft, "I think you're better than an owl. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Noris. I'm Mr. Filch."