At the dining table, Garfield's ears twitched.
He frowned.
Dumbledore?
Impossible. The old bee had only just sent a letter, there was no way he could already be here.
Garfield inhaled slowly, scenting the air.
Something was wrong.
This man did not smell like Albus Dumbledore.
Old James Carter, unaware of Garfield's suspicion, smiled faintly and gestured for the visitor to sit.
"Aberforth," He said, "What brings you here?"
Aberforth.
Albus Dumbledore's younger brother. The resemblance was striking, nine parts out of ten.
Yet where Albus carried an air of lazy wisdom, Aberforth's eyes held guarded hostility and old pain.
Garfield said nothing.
Aberforth greeted James with a brief embrace, nodded to Peggy, then sat across from Garfield. His eyes lingered on the orange cat, and a small smile appeared.
"Hello," He said. "The magical cat, Garfield. I've been waiting a long time to meet you."
So he had come for him after all.
Garfield tilted his head slightly. "If I'm not mistaken," He said calmly, "You're here because of Grindelwald… and Ariana."
Aberforth did not deny it. He nodded once.
"Yes. I came for the murderer."
He paused. "As for my sister~"
"Don't." Garfield interrupted gently, raising a paw.
"The dead do not belong to the living world. Those so-called ghosts of Hogwarts spirits are exceptions born of regret or accidents."
"Disturbing the dead is never a kindness. Resurrection is not a gift. You know that."
Aberforth's shoulders trembled. Tears welled in his eyes.
"I know." He said hoarsely. "I just… miss her."
That answer caught Garfield off guard.
Aberforth had always blamed Albus and Grindelwald for Ariana's death, even knowing it was an accident. That hatred had defined him for years.
Old James Carter remained silent, listening.
Over the past few years, Grindelwald's increasingly extreme actions had exposed many old secrets. Aberforth himself had been one of James's sources.
A poor man, James thought.
In this world, weakness was a sin that was always punished.
James glanced at Peggy, then briefly thought of the school Dumbledore had once proposed its four crests… lion, snake, eagle, badger.
Turning back, he spoke calmly. "Aberforth, missing the dead is human. Choosing not to disturb their rest is the right decision."
"Now, tell us what you intend to do about Grindelwald."
Aberforth hesitated. According to everything he knew, Grindelwald regarded Garfield as a mentor.
He had searched for him repeatedly, even crossing the ocean.
If Aberforth hadn't understood Garfield's habits well enough to place detection magic around Carter Manor, his arrival would never have been discovered so quickly.
Faced with Garfield's direct gaze, Aberforth answered honestly.
"Revenge." He said. "That's what I want."
Garfield nodded. "That's normal."
Then he asked quietly, "How?"
"Will you capture Grindelwald and hand him over for trial?"
"Or will you invoke the ancient laws of the extraordinary world, binding yourselves in a one-on-one duel to the death?"
"Is there a difference?" Aberforth frowned.
"Of course." Garfield replied.
"In the first case, Grindelwald answers to the law."
"In the second." He continued evenly, "You answer to fate. And you may not survive long enough to regret it."
While Aberforth weighed the pros and cons in silence, Garfield made the sensible choice.
He ate.
Western cuisine, Garfield thought, was unnecessarily complicated.
The first dish the appetizer—was more of an announcement than a meal. Cold or hot, sweet-leaning, and laughably small. Barely enough to wake an orange cat's appetite.
The second course confused him even more. Soup first?
In other cuisines, soup came last, warm and comforting. These creamy Western soups, while acceptable, were still inferior to a proper West Lake beef soup.
Then came the fish.
Garfield noted clearly lacked courage. No carp, no fine bones, only obedient fish that didn't fight back. And the sauce… a dry-fried pepper or a properly boiled fish would have been far superior.
Then came the main course.
Meat.
Steak. Lamb chops. Thick cuts, rich and fragrant.
Garfield approved wholeheartedly.
He stuffed his mouth without restraint.
Vegetables and desserts followed, mere snacks, useful only for scraping grease from the stomach.
Finally, tea.
The stage of digestion and conversation.
By the time the servants cleared the table, Garfield's eating had reached a mythic level. Food meant for twenty people had vanished, fifteen portions eaten by Garfield alone.
Leaning back in his chair, belly round and proud, Garfield let out a satisfied sigh.
This, he thought, is how an orange cat should live.
Wake up. Eat. Be held by a grown girl who freely smooths his fur.
Aberforth had eaten too, more than usual, under Garfield's overwhelming influence but nowhere near as much.
Food dulled the sharp edges of thought, yet his brow remained furrowed.
Cradled in Peggy's arms, Garfield glanced at him.
"You're thinking yourself into knots," Garfield said lazily. "If you don't have an answer now, come back when you do."
Aberforth looked up.
The first option, legal judgment, depended on institutions that Grindelwald could bend or break.
The second was an ancient life-and-death pact required power Aberforth wasn't sure he possessed.
And his brother…
Albus would never kill Grindelwald. That much, Aberforth knew in his bones.
Silence stretched.
"…Can I take you as my teacher?"
Garfield straightened instantly, ears lifting. "What?"
"Are you trying to inherit my ant money? I'll have you know, you can't do that unless you're family."
Aberforth blinked. "…Ant money?"
Garfield waved a paw dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Why do you want me as your teacher?"
"To gain the power to defeat Grindelwald."
Garfield studied him carefully. After a moment, he muttered, "Ah… right."
Reaching into his pocket, Garfield pulled out something he had nearly forgotten…
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream