As a fat orange cat, Garfield had his priorities straight.
Food came first.
Sunlight was a close second.
And the soft embrace of Peggy's bed? That was pure bliss.
It hadn't been long since he left Old James Carter's study, and he'd already forgotten about Dumbledore and his mysterious wife, 'Gal Prince' or whatever her name was.
Important things were happening, like patrolling the grounds, nibbling on breakfast leftovers, and arguing with the occasional, overdramatic Pandora.
Ah yes. The golden days of a cat's life.
Patrol the territory.
Eat the food.
Bask in the sun.
Nap in Peggy's bed.
Argue with a floating fairy girl living in your head.
But Garfield had no idea, his first real adventure was about to begin.
It was one of those dull, wet mornings. Rain slammed against the windows in sheets.
Garfield, as always, claimed the third portion of breakfast from the silver tray carried by the maid.
He wolfed it down, licking the plate clean before reclining like a Roman emperor at the foot of the stairs.
He casually picked his teeth with a claw. "Hmph. Chef's cooking slipped again. Meow."
A sparkle of light, and Pandora materialized, seated cross-legged on top of his head, her translucent form bouncing slightly with the motion.
"Stop it. You're just a greedy furball." She said, yawning.
"You're lucky anyone cooks for you at all. You want the chef to serve you like a guest of honor? Dream on."
Garfield gave her a sideways glare. "I am the king of Carter Manor."
"Garfield the First. If my food isn't perfect, I'll have Jerry sneak some mouse poop into the chef's stew later. Meow."
Pandora blinked. "Your tenth Jerry was eaten by the owl yesterday."
"Oh." Garfield shrugged. "Then I'll find Jerry No. 11. Plenty of rats where that came from."
"You heartless fur-lump. The mouse gave its life for you."
"If it got eaten, it means it wasn't fast enough. Nature is cruel." He yawned. "Anyway, I'm not talking to you anymore. Time to recharge."
Pandora tilted her head. "Recharge? You're a single cat. What are you recharging for?"
"For the next meal." Garfield said with regal authority.
"…You're hopeless." She muttered.
And with that, the girl flickered and vanished, leaving Garfield to curl up on the carpet with a satisfied purr.
Huu huu huu.
His grunts were soft and rhythmic.
Outside, rain continued to fall. It tapped the roof tiles and gushed through the gutters. The air was thick and gray, perfect weather to sleep through.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
But far from the manor house, something unusual stirred.
At the tall wrought-iron gates of Carter Manor, the air shimmered as if someone had dropped a pebble into the fabric of reality.
A figure appeared, middle-aged, European, well-dressed.
He had sharp features, a bristling moustache, and wore a neatly fitted gray suit. A gold pocket watch gleamed on his chest.
He looked up at the rain and sighed.
"Ah. Of course. It would rain today." He murmured.
"Good thing I came prepared."
With a flick of his wrist, a black umbrella popped into existence. He opened it smoothly, then reached for the gate and let himself in without hesitation.
As he strolled along the gravel path toward the manor house, the hound at the front porch, Carl, lifted his head, took one look, and promptly lay back down.
"Hello, Carl." The man said with a nod.
"Woof." Carl replied politely.
Inside the house, not a single servant stopped the man. No one questioned his presence. It was as if the manor itself recognized him.
He moved with ease through hallways and past portraits until he reached a heavy oak door.
He raised his hand and knocked, three crisp raps.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in already, Dumbledore." A voice from within responded at once.
The man sighed dramatically. "Honestly, James, a little courtesy wouldn't kill you."
"You'd rather I teleported you straight into my study like a burglar?"
"That would be an exciting change of pace." Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye as he stepped inside, rain still dripping from the edge of his umbrella.
Old James Carter sat behind a vast mahogany desk, spectacles low on his nose and a pipe resting beside him.
"You're late." James said.
"School business. And the Ministry breathing down my neck again."
James grunted. "I heard. It wasn't your fault."
Dumbledore's smile faded. "It was. I let him go."
A heavy silence followed. James didn't press.
Instead, he opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the desk.
"Here. One ticket to New York. The identity papers are inside."
Dumbledore reached for it, but instead of opening the envelope, he placed his hand into his robes and said gently. "There's no need. I trust you, James."
"Still don't like paperwork, huh?" James raised an eyebrow.
Dumbledore gave the study a once-over and clicked his tongue in amusement.
"I don't doubt your work, James." Brushing a few raindrops off his sleeve.
"But it's not every day I can slip away like this. Let's not waste time. Where's that orange cat you mentioned?"
James Carter raised a brow. "So eager?"
"And here I thought you'd at least pretend to enjoy the hospitality. I brewed the good tea and even had toffee set aside."
Dumbledore paused, visibly torn. "Toffee, you say?"
"With just the right touch of honey."
"Well… I suppose the cat can wait a few minutes."
He sat, shedding his cloak with a flourish as James poured the tea.
The older man added fresh milk and two sugar cubes, stirring slowly with a silver spoon. A fragrant sweetness wafted from the cup.
Without waiting for it to cool, Dumbledore took a cautious sip. "Mmm... Century-old tea leaves, farm-fresh milk, sugar cubes kissed with honey and let me guess… vanilla essence?"
James smirked. "Still got that nose, I see."
"I'd recognize your tea blend anywhere." Dumbledore said, relaxing into his chair.
"James Carter, you may be a terrifyingly wealthy old fox, but your taste in tea? Impeccable."
James chuckled. "So that's why you still call me a friend?"
"Well, that… and the sweets." Dumbledore admitted, plucking a wrapped candy from the tray and unwrapping it.
He popped it into his mouth with a content sigh. "You always knew how to bribe me."
James leaned back, arms crossed. "Don't forget how we met."
"That little teahouse my family ran… You were a skinny boy in patched robes, and I still caught you charming your way into a month of free drinks."
"That." Dumbledore said with mock indignation. "Was a simple illusion spell. Hardly cheating. Besides, I was charming."
"You were shameless."
Dumbledore grinned. "And you still let me come back."
"Only because my father thought you were some foreign prince in disguise."
"Ah, good times." He glanced at the dwindling tea. "But I suppose playtime is over."
"Already?" James asked, disappointed. "I thought you'd stay for another cup."
Dumbledore sighed and checked his pocket watch. "Trouble waits for no man… or cat."
"Then come." James said, standing. "Let's go visit Peggy's orange terror."
"Garfield, wasn't it?" Dumbledore mused.
James shook his head fondly. "It's like a spoiled brat in fur. But he's clever, and stubborn… like my granddaughter."
As they walked down the hall, Dumbledore added thoughtfully, "Speaking of which, your granddaughter's quite special."
"Bright eyes with quick wit. If she's willing, I wouldn't mind taking her as an apprentice someday."
"She's still young." James said, his tone measured.
"Of course." Dumbledore nodded. "No rush. These things can't be forced."
They stopped at the door to Peggy's room. Behind it, the quiet murmur of rain continued, and from within, the gentle sound of a cat's snoring could be heard.
James looked at his old friend. "Ready to meet your greatest challenge yet?"
"An orange cat?" Dumbledore raised a brow.
"No…" James said dryly.
"An orange cat with an ego."
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
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