The lemur is perfectly content to be a lemur, having no memory of being a shoe and having no brain function high enough to question its sudden and inexplicable existence. Its huge eyes take in the surroundings, Charles and Severus, but most of all: pie. It decides it needs to sit half on the pie, actually, while it nibbles. Okay.

Severus leans back and successfully does not laugh. He's tempted.

"I don't completely know how lemurs act," he drawls. "I think it's probably going to end up an sedately idealized cat-monkey."