After handing the reply to the owl, the family gathered once more to continue celebrating Luna's birthday.
They had done all they could. Whatever happened next was now in the hands of fate.
Yet after the brief excitement passed, the focus of the celebration quietly shifted—from Luna to Tom.
Xenophilius, Pandora, and even Luna herself kept glancing at him. Their curious looks made Tom's fur bristle and his cushion feel like a bed of nails.
"Meow!"
(Happy birthday—I'm outta here!)
Unable to endure the atmosphere any longer, Tom yowled and bolted from the dining room.
For the next few days, the Lovegood family continued to watch him with interest. Xenophilius still schemed about how to make him the next cover feature of The Quibbler. Still, Tom's daily routine eventually returned to normal.
Everything seemed to rewind to the days before Luna's birthday—before the acceptance letter had ever arrived.
But what had to come would come.
After receiving such a reply, Albus Dumbledore could hardly ignore a young wizard's unusual plight, nor could he allow a potential student to lose their chance at enrollment. And so, though the term was still weeks away, the Headmaster of Hogwarts paid the Lovegood family a personal visit.
Knock-knock-knock—
On a mild, sunny afternoon—around three o'clock—Tom lay sprawled across Luna's windowsill, lazily soaking up the warmth. Polite rapping drifted up from downstairs.
"Coming!" Pandora called toward the door, then shouted upstairs, "Philius, get the door!"
At his wife's urging, Xenophilius hurried down from his manuscript-strewn attic and opened the door.
"Hello, how may I—Professor Dumbledore?!"
Outside stood an elderly wizard with a silver beard and crescent-shaped spectacles perched upon his nose. Any irritation Xenophilius felt at having his writing interrupted vanished instantly.
"By Merlin! What brings you here? Is something urgent? Don't tell me Hogwarts has decided to adopt The Quibbler as required reading!"
His eyes lit up with excitement.
"If that's the case, I'll arrange a special print run at once—no delays to the children's studies!"
"Ah, Mr. Lovegood," Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile, shaking his head.
"I have read your magazine. Its content—and its perspective—are certainly refreshing. Including the article suggesting that I might be going senile."
He chuckled softly.
"Forgive me. We elders do grow muddled now and then. As for The Quibbler becoming a textbook, that decision rests with the teaching staff. So far, no such proposal has reached my desk."
"(;′⌒`) I see…"
Xenophilius looked crestfallen for a moment but quickly recovered. He was used to disappointment after all these years.
"Then, Professor, what brings you here?"
"It concerns young Tom," Dumbledore said.
"Your reply mentioned that he had suffered… an accident that might affect his enrollment. I wished to see the situation for myself."
Even as he spoke, Dumbledore considered the possibilities.
Bitten by a werewolf? Unlikely. The magical world has been quiet, and the Daily Prophet would have been shouting headlines if one had appeared in St. Catchpole.
An Obscurus? No. They only form in young witches or wizards who repress their magic—and the Lovegood family would never allow that.
He followed Xenophilius upstairs to the dining room, his thoughts turning over endlessly, yet no reasonable conclusion presented itself.
"Professor, please make yourself comfortable. I'll fetch Tom," Pandora said warmly, setting a plate of homemade biscuits and a steaming cup of black tea on the table.
"If you'd care to sample my baking."
"Of course, Mrs. Lovegood. It would be my pleasure."
Dumbledore accepted a biscuit, setting his speculations aside.
"Delicious."
Pandora smiled and headed upstairs to Tom's room.
Tom, meanwhile, had heard every footstep. He knew Albus Dumbledore had arrived—and why. Facing a legend of this world left him deeply uneasy. Even when Pandora entered the room, he kept his head buried beneath his forepaws, feigning sleep on the windowsill.
In the end, Pandora reached down, grasped him by the scruff of his neck, and carried the limp, blue British Shorthair downstairs.
"Mrs. Lovegood, this is…?" Dumbledore asked politely.
Seeing Pandora return with a cat instead of "Tom," his brow furrowed.
"And young Tom…?"
"I'm sorry, Professor—about Tom…" Pandora sighed, gently jiggling the ball of fur that was trying very hard to disappear into itself.
"This is him."
Dumbledore froze.
Even a wizard who had seen centuries of wonders could not fully conceal his shock.
At a glance, he could tell this was no Animagus like Minerva McGonagall, but an entirely ordinary cat.
Yet how could this be?
The Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance never made mistakes. If "Tom Lovegood" had been enrolled, then Hogwarts had accepted him.
But admitting an actual cat…
In all the centuries of Hogwarts' history, such a dilemma had never arisen.
Good thing I learned a little feline from Minerva, he thought.
Composing himself, Dumbledore tried cautiously, "Meow?"
(Are you Tom Lovegood?)
Cornered—and secretly thrilled by the prospect of Hogwarts—Tom lifted his head and stopped struggling.
"Meow~"
(Yes. And please speak English—I can understand you. Your accent is dreadful.)
…Dreadful accent?
Momentarily nonplussed, the old wizard soon regained his composure.
"So," Dumbledore said, blue eyes sharp yet kind behind his half-moon spectacles, "are you truly just a cat, or are you a wizard?"
Tom hesitated.
In his memories, he had once been human. Yet after death and rebirth as a cat, perhaps his soul had fused with this form. By that logic, his true nature was now feline.
After a moment's thought, he nodded firmly.
Dumbledore felt a familiar headache forming.
He had hoped Tom might be a boy afflicted by Dark Magic—troublesome, perhaps, but solvable, as in the case of Remus Lupin.
But enrolling an actual cat…
After a long pause and a thoughtful drumming of fingers on the table, Dumbledore exhaled slowly. In the end, he chose to trust the enchanted artifacts that had guided Hogwarts for over a millennium.
"Very well."
His gaze steadied as he addressed the cat with full formality.
"Then, Mr. Tom Lovegood, will you enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and become one of its students?"
"(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ Meow!"
Tom answered immediately, his tail-tip twitching with excitement.
His abilities were already unusual—but this was magic. The dream of every childhood.
After all, who hadn't once dreamed of an owl delivering that letter?
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