Note: Luna, I wrote this thinking that you'd prompted me with "Squib" rather than "conspiracy," but I've decided not to try to rework the ficlet; I hope you don't mind.
Jabber (PG; Millicent, Original Kneazle, Mr Bulstrode; 225 words): Millicent's father is an uffish sort.
Jabberwocky is Millicent's Kneazle, and she loves him, even if his name was inspired by the poetry of a Squib. She's never read the actual poem from which her aunt took the name; her mother won't allow her to, but that doesn't matter: Millicent calls him "Jabber."
Jabber meows all the time. He meows for food in the morning. He meows if she's slow to play with him. He meows when he sees her aunt, whom he despises. He meows while chasing his toys. He meows. It's just what he does.
"Can't you make that creature be silent?" her father asks, one afternoon.
Millicent gathers Jabber up in her arms; she knows the expression on her father's face only too well. "He's mine."
Her father slaps her. "That's not what I asked. Get the stupid thing out of here!"
Trying not to cry, Millicent removes Jabber, who's still meowing, from the room.
"Don't worry, baby," she whispers, setting Jabber in the grass and sinking down after him. "I won't let him hurt you. I won't l—let . . . any—anyone hurt you."
It's stupid to cry, Millicent knows that. When you cry, people hurt you. She should stop. She would if she could.
"But you're not stupid, are you?" asks Millicent, as Jabber climbs into her lap and rolls around in it, purring. "You're my best f—friend."