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ilham20
"So? How does it feel to be a Ravenclaw?"
Late at night, inside Tom's translation shop, Tom was nodding off at his little desk when the door creaked open and jolted him awake.
He yawned, stretched, and looked toward the slightly ajar blue door. Without missing a beat, he spoke to the person outside.
"Absolutely terrible!"
Jerry squeezed through the gap, his face full of pure irritation. "Seven flights of stairs! I climbed seven entire flights! Do you have any idea what it feels like to look up and still not see the top after dragging yourself up for ages?"
If the stairs had led to the Great Hall or something interesting, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. But Jerry knew perfectly well that the Great Hall was on the first floor and the kitchens were in the dungeons. Meanwhile, the Ravenclaw dorms sat at the very top of the tallest tower in the castle—one in the sky, the other underground.
And on top of that, he knew exactly what waited at the summit: the Ravenclaw common room.
Even in the magical world, a dorm was still just a dorm. With that in mind, Jerry had even less motivation to climb.
Listening to Jerry's complaints, Tom couldn't help but recall the time he and Jerry had chased a rain cloud across the entire United States just to plant an apple tree. Back then, they could run for hours without feeling tired. Now Jerry was exhausted from climbing a few flights of stairs. The cartoon logic of their stamina really was something else.
Though, to be fair, I'm the same way.
While Tom was lost in nostalgia, Jerry kept grumbling. "And that stupid door to the common room! It makes you answer a question to get in! Do you know what it said after I answered? It told me it didn't understand foreign languages! Can you believe that?!"
Honestly, the moment that door claimed it couldn't understand "foreign languages," Jerry finally understood how important it was to be able to speak human words. But for some ridiculous reason, in this world he could only speak normally when he was around Tom. The rest of the time he was stuck making squeaking noises. It made no sense.
This was a world full of magic. Why the hell didn't mice have the right to talk?!
The more Jerry thought about it, the angrier he got—especially when he remembered what the door knocker had said afterward. "And the worst part? It didn't even try to learn! It just said, 'I'm just a door knocker. I don't need to learn about the unknown.'"
What, so a mouse's life doesn't count? I'm a Ravenclaw too! Why am I the only one who can't answer the damn question?!
Tom listened to the nonstop rant and felt a sudden wave of relief that he hadn't chosen Ravenclaw or Gryffindor during the Sorting. Ravenclaw wanted answers to riddles, and Gryffindor wanted passwords. If those doors only accepted human speech like Jerry claimed, both he and Jerry would've been locked out.
He glanced at Jerry with a hint of pity. This is only the beginning. Once Jerry realized that casting spells also required incantations—and that those spells didn't understand their "mother tongue" either—he was going to lose it even harder.
As for whether Tom should tell him he could just write the answers and spells instead…
Tom smirked to himself. Good brothers suffer together. He'd stepped in every pitfall himself—Jerry could enjoy the full experience too.
What about "share the good times"? Tom figured he could take the small losses. The good stuff? He'd keep that for himself.
"? What the hell are you plotting now?"
Jerry narrowed his eyes. Most people wouldn't have noticed the scheming look on Tom's face, but Jerry had known him for years. He could spot when that cat was up to no good from a mile away.
"Nothing. You know me. What kind of bad thoughts could an adorable little cat possibly have~?"
Tom waved his paws innocently, but when he saw Jerry still staring at him suspiciously, he quickly changed the subject. "So you came all the way here in the middle of the night just to complain about how much Ravenclaw sucks?"
"Not entirely," Jerry said dismissively, refusing to let Tom dodge. "And don't try to change the topic!"
Seeing his attempt fail, Tom sighed and raised his paws in surrender. "Fine, fine. I was just thinking—even if the door knocker doesn't understand spoken language, it probably recognizes writing. You could try writing your answers next time."
He tilted his head. "But you didn't come here just for that, did you? If you're hoping to use this place as a shortcut, I've got bad news. This room was made by Dumbledore. Probably to stop students from sneaking between houses. Everyone who comes in has to leave through the same door they entered."
"What?! That's not fair—"
Jerry's face instantly crumpled into pure despair. It wasn't that he couldn't climb the stairs, but at this rate he was going to go from cute mouse to shredded muscle mouse in record time. The workout equipment his big cousin had given him back in the day wasn't even this brutal. He came here to learn magic, not to become a buff rodent!
"Relax. Muscle magic is still magic~"
Tom grinned, clearly reading Jerry's thoughts.
Truthfully, Tom already had solutions for most of Jerry's problems. He could even let Jerry use the shop as a shortcut if he wanted—just a matter of giving him a bit more access. But when they didn't have a shared goal, Tom and Jerry were natural enemies. That was just how things worked between them.
(And honestly? Tom enjoyed it that way.)
Back when they still had to put on a show for their owner, they'd held back a little when trying to sabotage each other. But now?
Tom found watching Jerry suffer about as satisfying as biting into a perfectly chilled watermelon on a scorching summer day.
If Jerry had asked for help—if he'd swallowed his pride and admitted he needed it—Tom might have thrown him a bone. But Tom knew his old rival far too well. Jerry would rather suffer in silence than ask for help.
Besides, it's not like this is actually bad for him.
Tom didn't bother hiding the amused look on his face this time.
And just like Tom expected, Jerry knew the cat probably had workarounds. With Tom's personality—lazy enough to lie down instead of sit—he would've already figured out several ways to make his life easier.
But Jerry refused to ask directly. If worst comes to worst, I'll just hitch a ride with someone.
He met Tom's smug expression with a meaningful smile of his own.
"Fine. Since you can't be a shortcut, I'm leaving. See you tomorrow!"
Jerry waved, hopped down from the chair, and scurried toward the door he'd come through. Before leaving, he gave the other doors one last stubborn push—just in case. They didn't budge. Satisfied (or rather, defeated), he took off before Tom could catch him scheming.
(…So what the hell was that smile about?)
After Jerry left, Tom replayed that meaningful grin in his head and felt an uneasy prickle. He had to admit—when it came to brains, Jerry usually had the edge. Tom had only ever stayed ahead through raw power and knowing when to quit before Jerry's protagonist luck kicked in.
But now…
Whatever. He can run, but he can't hide forever. I'll catch him eventually.
Shaking off the thought, Tom headed for the Hufflepuff door. He'd already wasted enough time waiting for Jerry. A perfectly good night's sleep was calling his name.
Meanwhile, Jerry had just stepped out of the Ravenclaw common room when a sudden realization hit him.
(Wait—how could I forget about this?!)
He reached into his fur and pulled out a worn, black diary.
(I was gonna show this weird thing to that cat… but nah. I'll wait until he's in a better mood.)
A mischievous grin spread across his face as he thought about tomorrow.
That cat's gonna lose his mind when he sees me. Though… Ginny probably won't get jealous, right? …Right?
Just thinking about his current owner's temper made Jerry shrink a little.
"Oh? Something interesting? Mind if I take a look?"
A calm but strangely persuasive voice spoke behind him. Jerry turned around and found himself face-to-face with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—the man who called himself Percival.
Jerry shook his head, trying to shake off the subtle pull in that voice, then gave the man a wary look.
(Professor? What are you doing here so late?)
The moment the words left his mouth, he remembered—Tom wasn't around. He was speaking in mouse language again. This man probably couldn't understand him.
He started reaching for his little whiteboard to write instead.
"I came looking for you."
Grindelwald watched Jerry with open curiosity, his gaze briefly lingering on the black diary in the mouse's paws. "Nothing serious. I just wanted to see what makes you and that cat so special."
Jerry's expression grew guarded. Grindelwald quickly added, "Don't worry, I don't mean any harm. I simply want to observe you both—especially you."
(Observe what?)
"To see if you have the potential and ability to become my successor."
Grindelwald met Jerry's eyes directly, no attempt to hide his intentions.
(Successor?)
Jerry blinked, his little brain spinning.
(Not interested. I'm good the way I am.)
He was too smart for that. Even if there were benefits—and he seriously doubted there were—this guy was clearly the villain type. Becoming his successor would basically make Jerry the next big bad. And once that happened, not only Tom, but Jerry's entire family back home would come after him.
He still wanted to beat Tom fair and square. He wasn't about to throw that away for some shady offer.
"Even if it meant you could finally win against that cat?"
Grindelwald smiled.
(Nope. Villain stuff? Hard pass. If you're looking for a successor, go find that cat. He'd be way better at it than me.)
Jerry rejected the offer outright. He knew the difference between short-term satisfaction and long-term consequences.
"If this were the old me, you might've been right," Grindelwald said with a quiet laugh. "But I've learned from my mistakes. I won't make the same foolish choices again."
He thought back to everything he'd learned while imprisoned in Nurmengard—especially the terrifying power of those two mushrooms that had finally arrived in the Muggle world. Looking at his past ambitions now, he could only shake his head at how naive he'd once been.
Wizard supremacy over Muggles? The idea seemed ridiculous in hindsight. Most wizards these days were either half-blood or Muggle-born. How exactly were they supposed to rule over Muggles like livestock? They'd rebel instantly.
And the Ministry? Those idiots could barely manage the wizarding world. Putting them in charge of Muggles would be a disaster.
Grindelwald had spent years in prison thinking about how to change the current state of the wizarding world without hiding anymore. But his power and influence had never been enough to support such a crazy plan.
He had been ready to give up—to simply live out the rest of his days in Nurmengard—when Dumbledore suddenly appeared and offered him something new. A hope. A way to change the wizarding world's future.
A cat who could turn the impossible into reality.
Grindelwald's eyes gleamed with renewed purpose.
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