Francesca Fallow, 1971. A herd of hippogriffs grazed peacefully in the adjacent field, their young frolicking in the long grass. Verity giggled as one fell face-first into the muck. She ran to catch up with her mother, who was striding down the long driveway - a sense of purpose in every step. They passed the stables and made straight for the house. It was an ancient, red brick building, held together by love, patience, and lots of spell-work. Paint flaked off of the blue stable door as her mother rapped on it. Several locks clicked and popped, but the door remained shut. Behind it, they could hear a cacophony of muffled curses, squeaks, and pleas. "Oof – Wilf! - Will ya – UGH – hold STILL – Wilf, please! Just one minute! Let me – get – AHA!" The top of the door swung back to reveal a puff of blonde, squiggly hair...and a niffler trying to make a run for it. "Fran, dear? Is that you?" "Hiya! Do you – want – me to get – mum - for you?" Wrestling the mole-like creature in her arms, Fran looked positively desperate. "Don't worry, you take Wilf back inside; I'm sure we'll be able to find her." With a grateful nod, the girl adjusted the creature in her arms and high-tailed it out of the boot room.