Why Don't You Eat Dried Fish, Cat?

Not far from Lynn's home was a narrow alley. On his first day moving here, while taking out the trash, he discovered a group of stray cats gathered there.

Partly to keep himself busy, partly out of pity for them, Lynn brought small treats every few days to feed them. Even if Hermione never said a word, he would have kept coming anyway.

Pulling a dried fish from the bag, he tore it into strips and scattered them before the stray cats to prevent any fighting.

The big cats and kittens ate happily. Lynn watched for a while, then got hungry himself. He fished out another dried fish from the bag, ready to taste it.

But just then, he felt something staring at him from a shadowy corner.

The sun had fully sunk below the horizon. The night sky held no stars, and the moonlight was dim.

The alley's towering walls blocked the glow of the streetlights outside, sending a chill creeping through Lynn's heart.

Summoning his courage, he walked into the shadows, still holding the uneaten dried fish in his hand.

The creature watching him from the dark was also a cat.

A beautiful tabby cat.

It showed no sign of being a stray. Its fur was clean and neat, with markings around its eyes like a pair of glasses. It stood upright on all fours, exuding an air of authority despite being a cat.

The tabby cat looked up at Lynn, nodded slightly in a very human way, as if about to make some grand move.

But the next moment, its body froze.

"Why aren't you eating the dried fish? Scared of the strays? That won't do—a cat's gotta act like a cat."

Lynn ruffled the tabby cat's head, then mischievously pinched its ear.

The tabby cat seemed never to have anticipated such a situation. It stood there, completely stunned.

Lynn thought the cat looked a bit silly, so he dangled the dried fish in front of its eyes.

"Want some dried fish?"

"Dried fish~ Tasty dried fish~"

Tabby Cat: ...

"Kitty kitty kitty, why won't you eat the dried fish? Kitty kitty kitty..."

The tabby cat finally seemed to snap out of its shock. Its body underwent a miraculous transformation!

Fur receded, body expanded. In the blink of an eye, an old woman appeared before him—wearing a pointed hat, a pair of prominent square glasses, and oddly styled clothes.

"...Kitty kitty kitty, holy crap!"

Startled by the sudden change, Lynn even blurted out his native tongue.

He fell flat on his backside, hands bracing against the ground, scrambling backward in panic.

The elderly witch standing upright had a slightly darkened face, though it wasn't very noticeable in the night.

"Lynn Belloc, there's no need to be so alarmed." Professor McGonagall, who had just transformed from a cat, cleared her throat.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You may call me Professor McGonagall."

Lynn seemed frozen in shock. His back against the wall, nowhere left to retreat, eyes wide, mouth agape, he stared blankly at the cat-turned-human Professor McGonagall, unable to speak for a long time.

The stray cats in the alley had long since fled from the commotion. The night was silent. Professor McGonagall looked at the dumbfounded Lynn, her irritation fading. Forcing a kind smile onto her usually stern face, she spoke.

"Would you care to invite me inside for a seat?"

At Lynn's home.

Professor McGonagall sat on the sofa, while Lynn busily served her tea and water.

He hadn't been frozen in terror earlier—he'd been frozen in astonishment.

Who would have thought he hadn't traveled back in time, but had arrived in the wizarding world of Harry Potter?

Well, Lynn admitted that after the shock wore off, he was indeed scared.

Because he had just—seemingly, probably, maybe—patted the head of Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress, the Gryffindor lioness, the famously strict Professor McGonagall... as a cat?

And kept asking her why she wouldn't eat dried fish.

Lynn wanted to die. The embarrassment was so intense he could dig out a Hogwarts Castle with his toes.

So now, Lynn could only ease his awkwardness with excessive hospitality.

"Professor, please have some water. Hot water is very good for you."

"These are some snacks I've been saving. Please, you must try them."

"Wait! I almost forgot—don't drink the water yet. There's mung bean soup on the stove! That'll quench your thirst better!"

Professor McGonagall had just lifted her teacup, only to set it back down with a face full of exasperation.

"Mr. Belloc, could you please sit down quietly and listen to me first?"

Lynn gave an awkward smile, rubbed his hands together, and obediently sat on the sofa.

Seeing that he had finally stopped, Professor McGonagall began to explain her purpose.

"As you can see, Mr. Belloc, I am a witch, from the finest and only magical school in Britain—Hogwarts. Before I arrived, an owl should have delivered a letter to you."

Lynn pulled out the letter he'd found at his doorstep when he came back earlier. "This?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Yes. It should have reached you properly. I'm not sure what went wrong with that owl."

"It doesn't matter, though. What's important is the acceptance letter inside."

Lynn tore open the envelope and saw the Hogwarts crest printed on the letter, signed with Professor McGonagall's name.

At the same time, a flat, emotionless voice rang out in his mind:

Host detected as accepted by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. System activation conditions met.

Lynn's expression twisted into something strange.

Today had thrown far too many surprises at him. He'd been in this world for over a decade and never once imagined there was a system hiding inside him.

But then again, since something as bizarre as transmigrating into a magical world had already happened, a system showing up didn't seem all that shocking.

He'd run into so much weirdness by now that he was starting to go numb. At this rate, he'd probably warp into some odd shape before long.

Professor McGonagall didn't notice anything off about Lynn. If anything, his reaction struck her as perfectly normal—for a Muggle, being accepted into a school of magic was indeed an unbelievable thing.

"Mr. Belloc, I believe you understand the situation now. So, are you willing to attend Hogwarts for seven years of magical study?"

Even though the question didn't really have a "no" option, Professor McGonagall still asked him seriously.

The system in his head had gone silent after that one sentence. Lynn ignored it for now—he'd deal with Professor McGonagall first.

No surprises there. Lynn wasn't about to turn down the chance to learn magic, something countless people dreamed of.

"I'd be delighted, Professor McGonagall."

A faint smile crossed Professor McGonagall's face, but then she glanced around the room as if noticing something, and frowned.

"Where is your family? They need to be informed as well."

Lynn shrugged. "I'm an orphan. My parents died when I was very young. My guardian is my foster father."

Professor McGonagall's expression grew heavy.

"I'm sorry to bring up painful memories, child, but we must obtain your guardian's consent."

Lynn wasn't troubled at all. He answered readily.

"It's fine, Professor. He's not in London right now, but we can give him a call."

He picked up the phone receiver from the coffee table and looked at Professor McGonagall, silently asking if that was acceptable.

Though she didn't know much about Muggle contraptions, Professor McGonagall clearly understood what a phone was—after all, the public entrance to the Ministry of Magic was a telephone booth.

She nodded to signal it was fine, and Lynn dialed.

A steady male voice answered on the other end.

"Something?"

"I'm going to a magic school in two months. It'll be about seven years. The professor's sitting right next to me. You need to know about the enrollment." Lynn cut straight to the point, no fluff.

A few seconds of silence on the other end.

"Alright. I understand."

"I need your consent."

"You have it."

"Okay, that's all. Talk later."

"Mm."

The call ended. It hadn't lasted thirty seconds.

This time, it was Professor McGonagall's turn to be stunned.

She'd been a professor for quite a while—visited at least a hundred Muggle-born students' homes—but she'd never seen a parent accept the magical world so easily and trust them with their child without a second thought.

Lynn wasn't surprised at all.

After all, he'd handpicked his foster father. A little unspoken understanding was only natural.

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