A Cat Between Worlds

Harry woke up the next morning to the sound of something thumping against his dormitory door. Thump. Thump. Thump. He sat up, grabbed his wand, and opened the door cautiously. A cat walked in. The cat. It trotted past him like it owned the place, leapt onto his bed, circled twice, and sat down with the air of someone who had paid rent. Harry blinked. “How did you get in here?” The cat blinked back, unimpressed. Before Harry could argue with it—because apparently that was his life now—there was a soft whump behind him. Harry turned. Nico di Angelo was lying on the floor. Face‑down. Again. Harry stared at him. “You have got to be kidding me.” Nico groaned into the carpet. “I hate magic.” “You are magic,” Harry said. “I hate that too.” The cat hopped off the bed, padded over, and sat on Nico’s back like it was clocking in for work. Nico didn’t even react. He just lay there, defeated, like this was his natural habitat. Harry crouched beside him. “Do you… need help?” “No,” Nico said, muffled by the floor. “You’re lying,” Harry said. The cat meowed in agreement. Nico finally pushed himself up, hair sticking out in every direction. He looked like a Victorian ghost who’d been dragged through a hedge. “I didn’t mean to come here,” he said. “I was trying to shadow‑travel to the dining pavilion.” Harry blinked. “That’s… not close.” “Tell that to him.” Nico pointed accusingly at the cat. The cat licked its paw, completely unbothered. Harry sat on the edge of the bed. “So he teleports you?” “No,” Nico said. “He redirects me.” “That sounds worse.” “It is.” The cat meowed proudly. Nico glared at it. “Stop interfering with my life.” The cat meowed louder. Harry watched them argue like this was a normal morning activity. “So… why is he doing this?” Nico threw his hands up. “I don’t know! He’s a minor god or a curse or a cosmic inconvenience—” The cat swatted Nico’s ankle. “—okay, fine, a major inconvenience.” Harry tried not to laugh. “He seems to like you.” “He’s ruining my life.” The cat meowed again, softer this time, and nudged Nico’s hand. Nico froze. Harry raised an eyebrow. “He’s… comforting you?” “No,” Nico said immediately. The cat nudged him again. Harry smiled. “He is.” Nico looked betrayed. “Why is this happening to me?” Harry shrugged. “Maybe he thinks you need a friend.” Nico stared at him, startled, like no one had ever said that to him before. The cat meowed once—firm, decisive—and then hopped onto Harry’s bed again, curling up like it had accomplished something important. Nico sighed. “I need to leave before he drags me somewhere else.” Harry opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what—but Nico vanished in a swirl of shadows before he could. Harry stared at the empty space. The cat didn’t even look up. Harry sighed. “Right. Breakfast, then.” The cat meowed like it was coming too. Harry didn’t bother arguing. He was already losing to a cat.