A smooth silvery Slime

A smooth silvery creature, shaped like a dollop of cream, sat on your feet. As you look down, it seemed to look back despite its lack of features. Suddenly the room, which had been hushed for your summoning, erupted into noise filled with wonder and speculation about the creature you had just summoned. Startled, your familiar quailed and pressed itself close to you. Concerned, you bend down to comfort it and are surprised when it forms itself into a whip like tendril and launches itself up your sleeve. You shiver as its cool, smooth body climbs your arm and coils around your neck, quivering. You reach inside your hood and stroke the creature at your collar, murmuring soothing nothings.

"How curious." You glance up at the Wizened Wizard at those words. "I haven't seen one of those in quite some time. And certainly never as a familiar." He looks at you and sees your confusion. "It is something called a liquid metal slime. Fascinating creatures, really. But you had best step down now. Plenty of other students to go."

As soon as you step down from the dais, you quickly weave an illusion to hide yourself and not a moment to soon as a sorceress with an inquisitive air pushes her way through the crowd. You recognized the improbably busty human as Dolores Grizzim, a notorious gossip who's attentions you could do without. The flaxen blonde huffed when she didn't see you, than pulled a pair of spectacles of her cleavage. And promptly looked the wrong way after settling them on her button nose, courtesy of a small distraction spell you sent her way. You were more interested in your new familiar, than a noisy gossip.

You coax the silvery slime from around your neck and into you arms were it draped itself catlike. No sooner does the comparison cross your mind, when your familiar change into a perfect replica of your mother's cat in silver. Startled you stare down at your familiar, which looked back with it's now feline features. Inspiration strikes and you jostle your familiar. Startled it flaps new formed wings to regain its balance, taking the shape of a raven. "Quick aren't you. Well Quick," you name your familiar as you set it on the ground, where it takes the shape you prompt. That of a puppy sitting at the masters feet. "I think we'll get along just fine."