[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/nMlpUT0.png[/img][/center]

Mike shook his head, [color=eeba33]"Nah, dunno what it is, could be his Kneazle blood or my Gran's cat-food, but he's been a kitten since I bought him."[/color] Probably a mix of the two, Mercury was only a quarter Kneazle, and Mike's Russian grandma had a family recipe that extended their pets' lives by varying amounts. Supposedly the woman had a 300-year old owl who had belonged to her own grandmother. Their fondness for pets was the only thing they talked about, every other month he'd write to her about Mercy and she'd send a package around with enough cat-food to last him for the next couple months and a letter about her owl Stani.

Mike inspected Oliver's bird curiously, [color=eeba33]"What about this guy?"[/color] He asked, holding his finger out in front of Oliver's shoulder so the bird could perch there if she wanted. [color=eeba33]"I can never tell with birds, they grow up so fast and then look the same for the rest of their lives."[/color] Or maybe he just wasn't very observant with them, birds didn't exactly hold his interest, especially something as monochrome and ominous as a raven, even if he did see the bird all the time given it's home in the Hufflepuff's rooms.

[@Classpet]