Elation at the thought of going to see her new baby niffler was slightly stifled by the baby niffler name, and Tilda wrinkled her nose. She’d surely she’d heard that name incorrectly… “Phil?” She echoed, blinking in confusion. Who named their pet Phil, unless it was a nickname for something? “What an odd name for a baby niffler,” She quietly mused to herself, now completely consumed with coming up with a better name for her own niffler. Perhaps, she thought ruefully as she thought back to the Pumpkin Races, not something that people might mistake for a rather brazen nickname should she need to call it out in public.

Eugene’s following questions completely derailed her train of thought. “Eaten?” And suddenly her stomach grumbled quite loudly, as if on cue. Tilda had to blink rapidly to clear the sudden dizziness. “Ah, I actually haven’t.” She replied, before adding: “Haven’t done either.” She had a feeling she should do at least one of these things.

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