16th December, 1891 — Professor Foxwood’s Office
Basil Foxwood

The end of term was nigh – not that Christmas meant much to Aubrey save being shipped back and forth between Urquart’s house and the school again, in the eternal purgatory that was his life – but even if he had not been keeping track of the date, he could have guessed.

There was just the feeling of it in the air, like you could sniff it out. The children got restless, boisterous, more nightmarish than usual. They didn’t do their homework, they made a mess, they ate more candy than usual, and the spoilt ones wrote long, whiny letters home to demand particular gifts.

Aubrey, thirteen years past hoping for a Christmas miracle, had to seek a little peace and quiet elsewhere in the castle. He had traipsed to one of his favoured spots – there was plenty of reading material, no children, and only the professor’s talking to himself to disturb the silence. It was, quite frankly, free entertainment.

So Aubrey – having made the arduous journey towards Foxwood’s door in the after-dinner rush hour and sorely hoping the professor was back at his desk now, in the time it had taken him – rammed his body sidelong into the base of the closed door a few times in the manner of knocking. (He had just eaten a few potatoes for dinner and was too stuffed, presently, to squeeze himself through the reasonable crack under the door as he could sometimes manage, if he held his breath.)

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Formerly known as Davis, Elijah Urquart's pet hedgehog.

Basil was in the home stretch before the holidays. He had just wrapped up his latest, nine-month research escapade and was quite pleased to finally be submitting it to Transfiguration Today. With his hair askew and a quill in his mouth, the excited professor snapped a few books closed and shoved them aside on his nightmare of a desk.

It was December 16th, only a few more days until the term fully ended and his purgatory of social events began. Most of his classes were wrapping up their final assignments, which meant he’d have quite a bit of grading to do over the next few weeks, and the pile of papers he was due to hand back was growing ever more steadily.

Somewhere amidst the chaos was a plate he’d snagged from an early trip to the kitchens around lunch. Basil knew this close to his submission there was very little he was likely to venture out of his domain for and food was not the priory at the moment. He’d taken a few bites out of the scones and all that was left of the pumpkin pasty was crumbs, so Basil was primarily running on caffeine and sugar. Somewhere nearby a pot of tea and an enchanted teacup floated always just within reach.

Muttering to himself, Basil grabbed the quill from between his teeth and scribbled something. “That ought to bring the right kind of attention,” he assured himself, lost in thought. A sudden thump! thump! sound on his door brought the professor out of his reveries then and he blinked himself back to reality. What an odd sound for a knock. Setting his quill aside, Basil went to open the door.

At first inspection he saw nobody standing there in the hall. How strange. He peered about, looking left and right, and was about to close the door when he spotted a round little someone by his foot. Basil couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, hello my good chap!” he greeted the hedgehog familiarly. “I was rather hoping you’d stop by today.”

Moving aside, Basil ushered him in. “Come in, come in,” he allowed, leaving the door ajar. “There’s a scone on the desk, feel free to help yourself.”

Picking up his quill again, Basil continued his scribbling. “Tonight, my dear little friend, is a night of triumph!”

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Aubrey Davis

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Aubrey did not plan to make a scene when Foxwood came to the door, so only presented himself there patiently until the Professor cottoned on – and thence greeted him with a great deal more dignity than Aubrey ever remembered getting elsewhere. (Even the nicest children had a habit of manhandling him, see.)

Indeed, if the office furniture had not been made of towering peaks of table legs and whatnot, Aubrey might have been able to imagine for a moment that this was entirely ordinary, that he was ordinary, that Foxwood was his friend.

So he scuffled across the floor to the desk as invited, and – well aware that the professor could pick him up, if he waited, but nevertheless stubbornly independent of nature – Aubrey dug in his claws and heaved himself up the wooden desk-leg, using his front teeth for a climbing pickaxe. There was a scone at the top, after all, and he ought to earn the dessert with a little exertion first.

Once Aubrey had finally kicked his hind legs over the edge and found himself on a flat surface again, he paused, splayed out to rest for a moment, but peering over at the professor inquiringly. Some triumph, was it? He waited calmly where he was, certain Foxwood would need no further encouragement to continue; he had an odd habit of making the air suffer a constant stream of his thoughts and feelings when he was alone, and was clearly bursting to tonight.

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Formerly known as Davis, Elijah Urquart's pet hedgehog.

Eccentric was a pretty good word to describe the sometimes harebrained transfiguration professor, though he resented the implication. This evening, much like many others when he was wrapping up a research endeavor, the word was particularly apt however. Muttering to himself, and to a hedgehog, were not traits that constituted soundness but Basil couldn’t be bothered with that as he pressed his tongue between his teeth and finished scribbling. “There,” he announced, laying down the quill. “My submission has done!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Basil ran a hand through his unkept hair and read over his work. “After nine months of studying every transfiguration derivative hex or jinx you could imagine, I’ve finally collected all my findings and put together a brief history of the stuff over the last century.” Nodding to himself, Basil beamed. “My contact at Transfiguration Today has agreed to publish it in the new year, isn’t that grand?”

Standing abruptly, Basil took a sip of his tea and missed replacing it on the floating saucer entirely. The liquid jostled, some of it spilling onto the floor, before the cup adjusted and found its own place floating unobtrusively to the side. All he had left to do now was send an owl to the publisher with a copy of his essay and he was all set. It was a satisfying feeling, completing a work and being quite proud of its efforts. Basil couldn’t imagine his life without these little highs. The very thought put him on edge, to think that Atticus could take it all away so very abruptly. Pushing the thought away, he decided he’d send an owl in the morning.

In his distraction, Basil had hardly noticed his companion make his way up the side of the desk. Slightly surprised he’d managed it so quickly, Basil pushed the plate with half a scone on it closer to the creature. “I ought to give you co-authored credit on this one,” he teased lightly. “You’ve been with me through the thick of it.”

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Aubrey Davis

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   Aubrey Davis

Still breathing exhaustedly from heaving himself all the way up, Aubrey merely regarded the professor for a while. His submission was done, he said; Aubrey didn’t catch all the transfiguration gibberish to do with it – he tried to learn useful bits and pieces from Foxwood, he did, for obvious reasons, but some of it still went over his head – but he thought, with his one-year-of-Hogwarts-schooling as a boy and no opportunity for reading Transfiguration periodicals, he had scraped together the gist.

Aubrey couldn’t beam back, of course – and for all the Professor was an eminent scholar, he wasn’t always the most observant, was he? A little too eccentric, a little lost in his own head, to quite notice a rare object of Transfiguration right before his face.

But maybe he should cut him some slack, when the Professor couldn’t even keep hold of his teacup. Aubrey couldn’t help himself: he let out a snuffle-snort in something like hedgehog amusement. And then Foxwood pushed the scone at him and gave him half the credit for his efforts in the same moment, which was ludicrous and delightful in equal measure. To accept that honour, Aubrey puffed his body up in sardonic pride, knowingly held Foxwood’s gaze for a moment, and then lurched forwards to take a deliberate, satisfied bite of scone. I understand you, you big intelligent oaf, see? Aubrey swallowed, licked his mouth, stepped very carefully closer to the corner of the parchment as if to take a look at Foxwood’s newly-finished submission. They should bloody well publish me in Transfiguration Today.

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   Basil Foxwood

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Formerly known as Davis, Elijah Urquart's pet hedgehog.

Watching the hedgehog for a moment, Basil could have sworn the little creature understood him. It seemed so enraptured in his transfiguration conversation. (He preened a little at the thought because, really, who wouldn’t be?!) See, just there! It had shuffled a little and appeared to be reading the paper! Basil squinted at the hedgehog for a moment and a crazy thought floated towards him out of the blue.

“Hmm…” the professor mused to himself. Pushing back away from the desk, Basil pulled his wand out of his waistcoat pocket. He gave it a small wave and then pointed it directly at the hedgehog. Nothing happened, save for a few crumbs rolling over on the plate. Basil tried again, this time muttering “Reparifarge,” under his breath. A slight gust brushed over the creature, ruffling its…needles (?) and pushing some papers onto the floor. Basil straightened. Well, it would appear the hedgehog was not, in fact, a failed transfiguration. Feeling slightly silly for even considering it, Basil moved to pick up the papers that had fallen.

“Sorry ol’chap,” he said, by way of apology. (It felt awfully rude to just point his wand at the little sir and not say anything about it!) “Wishful thinking, I suppose.” Basil let out a small chuckle and replaced the papers on his desk. He tucked his wand over his ear and turned back to his work.

“I’ll send the owl tonight,” he declared, once again turning his attentions back to the task at hand. Pulling out a small piece of parchment, Basil scribbled a note on it. “That way...” he continued. “I can send the article off first thing!” Pleased, he set the quill aside and looked back once again at the hedgehog. “Fancy a trip to the owlery?” he asked it. “The scone will be here when we get back.”

Basil wasn’t sure what response he was expecting or why exactly he spoke to the hedgehog like it was a real person. He supposed it was for lack of human comfort in such matters. While he loved his students and had friendly enough relationships with some of the other staff, there wasn’t anyone Basil could really share his accomplishments with. Not like he could with Aubrey. There was Miss Ida Chang, he supposed. She was the closest thing he had to an academic enthusiast associate but she was also a seventh year student. Not a friend. Basil supposed it didn’t matter. He was perfectly fine on his own. Offering the small creature his palm, Basil waited to see if it would approach him.

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Aubrey Davis

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Aubrey wasn’t paying attention to the professor, too busy inspecting the paper (and the scone), until Foxwood was already pointing his wand his way. Aubrey tensed. Did he know?

There had been a student or two who had suspected something was odd about him, in Aubrey’s time. Sometimes he had wanted them to figure it out – sometimes he had tried to prove he was a man – and then sometimes he wondered whether he really wanted to ever be human again. The life of a pet hedgehog was no great wonder, but then, nor had the life of a footman been. At least now Aubrey didn’t have to wait upon people. Here, like this, occasionally people even waited upon him.

Aubrey, intensely still, held his breath, but the spell did not take effect. It probably wouldn’t – the magic the baby devil Urquart had used was perhaps not one fixed by an everyday incantation. And it had not been a failed spell, either. It had been depressingly definite. But maybe –

Oh, no, Foxwood had thought better of the theory, and had turned his attentions to sending off his research. Aubrey wrinkled his nose and gave a harumphing snort at the mention of owls – his nemeses, with their beady eyes and beaks – but if he had a Professor’s protection, he’d manage. And he would hardly turn down the company. (As long as he got his scone at the end of it, or he would have to repay the good gentleman for the reneged promise by chewing holes in his socks.)

Regally, Aubrey padded up to Foxwood’s palm – a better size for a chariot than some scrappy-handed student, to be sure – and brushed the side of his quills against Foxwood’s thumb as he passed, as a sign of... affection, maybe.

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Formerly known as Davis, Elijah Urquart's pet hedgehog.

Pleased when the little hedgehog accepted his request, Basil wondered momentarily again at the possibility of it perhaps being a real person trapped in that floofly little body. He was very likely off on a wild goose chase, but he made a mental note to return to it anyway. Perhaps in the new year he would devote some time to flipping through his texts for signs of human-to-animal transfiguration and common counter-spells.

For now, he tucked the little hedgehog gently into one of the pockets of his robe and threw in a piece of the scone for good measure. He was glad of the company, and whistled cheerfully to himself as he closed the door to the office and made his way out into the hall. Perhaps he’d think to get himself a pet in the new year too… No, Basil recoiled at the thought almost immediately. It was too much work to care for an animal. Besides, he always had this little guy when he most needed it. It would be a sad day when Mr. Urquhart graduated.

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Aubrey Davis

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Well, these clothes were of good quality, well-made and supremely soft to be in – he could always count on Foxwood to be well dressed, even if he was a scatterbrained, distractible mess of a person otherwise.

Still, Aubrey would take the thoughtful, whistling professor as his jailer anyday over bleeding Urquart. A scone and a comfortable pocket – what more could he ask for?

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   Basil Foxwood

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Formerly known as Davis, Elijah Urquart's pet hedgehog.