"Surprised?" Dumbledore chuckled. "That's just how Mrs. Pomfrey is. In her eyes, a student's health and safety always come first."
Seeing the look of shock on Tom's furry little face, Dumbledore smiled warmly and continued, not even slightly offended by Pomfrey's earlier scolding:
"If a student's safety is at risk, forget me as the headmaster—even if the Secretary of Magic himself walked in, she'd scold him the same way."
"Meow." (So that's how it is.)
Tom nodded in understanding. Now that his curiosity had been satisfied, he quickly remembered why Dumbledore had come in the first place. He straightened up, his tiny cat-face turning serious as he looked at the headmaster.
(So… what's going on with my House placement? Are you just assigning me one directly, or will I not be placed at all? Don't tell me I actually have to re-enroll next year!)
He wasn't too worried, but if possible, Tom wanted to get into school sooner rather than later. The earlier he started learning proper spellcasting, the faster he'd fix his "can't-speak-an-incantation" problem.
At the very least, he could hurry up and learn non-verbal magic.
Actually… maybe I should just ask Dumbledore to help fix that problem for me. And as for payment…
Tom patted the enormous sack tied to his back.
Bringing his sister back should be enough to cover the bill, right? (￣ω￣)
Dumbledore, having no idea what Tom was plotting, kept smiling kindly. But after Pomfrey's warning, he didn't tease Tom too much. He simply assured him he had a way to handle the enrollment issue, then explained a few important things for the semester.
Seeing how anxious Tom looked, Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head.
"Don't worry. I told you—I'll make sure you end up in the House that suits you best."
(Then just tell me already! What's with all the suspense?)
"Well, since you're in such a hurry…"
Dumbledore paused dramatically. Under Tom's "I swear I will claw you" glare, the headmaster finally continued:
"Sorting is just a process. It's not some ancient sacred ritual. Turning it into a ceremony is mostly to help young wizards feel connected to their House.
"As for your House… once you've fully recovered, I'll host a private Sorting just for you."
(Can he… do that?)
"Of course. Hogwarts rules are actually very flexible. As long as you're not breaking them in front of a teacher, things usually stay pretty easygoing."
That's why the school made Filch the caretaker, Dumbledore added with a wink.
In his opinion, a brave and curious cat like Tom (specifically: a cat who dares to eat chocolate) was very likely to end up in Gryffindor. And considering a cat's natural tendencies, he wanted to make sure the boy—er, cat—didn't feel boxed in by rules while growing up.
(So the school rules are just decorations?)
"W-well… no! If you get caught, you'll still be punished!"
Seeing Tom about to press the issue, Dumbledore quickly stood up.
"All right, that's enough for now. Remember what I told you and keep the school guidelines in mind. For your Sorting, just come to my office once you're mostly recovered. I've got other matters to handle—I'll be on my way."
And before Tom could even lift a paw to stop him, Dumbledore practically sprinted out of the infirmary.
(´-﹏-`;) Hey! I still had so many questions! And I haven't even shown him this yet! Why'd he run off so fast?!
Still complaining internally, Tom pulled out a sack taller than he was. Once he loosened the knot, a girl's ghostly form floated out—bright and vivid in color, unlike ordinary spirits. But her face was puffed up like an angry pufferfish.
"Tom! Why didn't you let me come out and say hi to my brother!"
"Meow~"
"What was that?"
Clearly, Ariana could no longer understand cat speech like she did before.
Tom tapped his chin thoughtfully.
So she only understood me earlier because that space was special?
Or because I was a spirit too back then?
He wanted to test it, but seeing the girl's pouty, frustrated face, he decided to drop the idea for now. Besides—he was a cat. Thinking too hard was exhausting.
So instead, he grabbed a whiteboard and scribbled:
[It's not that I didn't want you to say hi. He literally didn't give me a chance! I couldn't just pull you out in the middle of his speech!]
Tom had planned to take care of business first, then bring Ariana out for the big reunion. How was he supposed to know Dumbledore would bolt like a startled pigeon the moment he finished talking?
"Huh… I guess that is what happened."
Even though she'd been stuffed into a sack somewhere against Tom's ribs, Ariana could still hear what was happening outside. She knew full well her brother had practically run out the door.
And so, her anger—meant for Tom—quietly fizzled out.
"Fine, fine. If it's my brother's fault, then I won't blame you.
"Tom, get well soon, okay? As soon as you're better, take me to see him!"
She looked at him with bright, excited eyes.
[Well… if you're in a hurry, I can take you right now.]
Tom suggested.
Truthfully, he was dying to know which House he'd be put in—and he really wanted to meet the Sorting Hat.
As for Dumbledore saying to wait until he'd recovered…
He seemed to forget something extremely important.
Tom's greatest ability wasn't magic—it was his absurdly tough, practically unkillable body. His healing factor was top-tier.
Sure, he had low poison resistance (a few chocolates almost killed him), but that aside, his recovery speed was incredible.
In fact, during the short time he'd been awake, his body had already fully healed.
"Are you sure? But my brother said—"
Ariana looked torn between excitement and worry. She wanted to see her brother more than anything, but she also didn't want to cause trouble for her friend.
[Relax. I'm completely fine now. Really.]
"Then… should we go now?"
Her eyes sparkled.
[Let's go!]
Tom hopped off the bed, grabbed the bedsheet, twisted it a few times, and threw it dramatically over himself.
[Disguise complete. Move out!]
"Oh—!"
And with that, one cat and one ghost slipped out of the infirmary under the cover of a bedsheet.
---
It had already been late at night when Tom woke up, and after everything that happened, it was now almost exactly midnight. The castle halls were empty, save for the occasional ghost drifting lazily through the air.
Good thing I'm not the Tom from the cartoons. If I were that Tom, forget staying here for six years—I'd be dead from fright in one second.
Just as he was feeling proud of himself—
CLANG! RATTLE-RATTLE-BANG!!
A deafening crash echoed from above.
"MEOW!!!"
Tom's entire body puffed up like a terrified pom-pom, and he let out the most tragic scream a cat had ever produced.