165
Wesley the Weasel
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You cautiously reach out a hand to pet the weasel, who allows you to pat him gently on the head.

"Ah, you like my pet weasel do you? You like to pat him? Good: Wesley could do with a little affection now and again, couldn't you Wesley hmmm? You see Arthur," Slumblebore explains as you pat away, "Wesley was not always a weasel. He was not always called Wesley either. Let me explain.

"Wesley used to be a real boy just like you Arthur. Then one day in an ill-tempered dispute with a fellow student about who had the fastest broomstick, he was transformed by magic into the weasel you see before you. Unfortunately the spell was permanent."

Wesley listens to all this intently, and he leaps onto Slumblebore's desk, chattering his teeth in rage and frustration.

"As Wesley was an orphan I realised that the kindest thing to do would be to adopt him as my pet. My tailor on Hippotomews specially made his red waistcoat and matching hat. And I decided to give him his new name: Wesley, because Wesley the Weasel has a rather pleasing ring to it, don't you think? His boy name before that was Gary, which would never do. Or possibly it was Barry.

"Ever since then he has lived with me. We get along famously although I must admit that his table manners are not all that they might be - he has an unfortunate habit of defecating in the raisins."

Wesley hangs his head, shamefacedly.

"You can easily tell which is which though," says Slumblebore brightening. "The raisins have a smooth feel, whereas the droppings are more squishy. Unless Wesley has constipation - in which case they are crunchy.

"Why do I tell you all this Arthur? Because I want you to know that for all my students I will always be there for them. I will always be there for you, when you need help the most. Always, Arthur, always. Metaphorically. Just like I was for Barry. Or was it Larry.