Not far from Leo Turner's house stretched a quiet, narrow alley. On his very first day after moving in, while tossing out the trash, he discovered its hidden secret a whole gathering of stray cats that seemed to treat the alley as their kingdom.
Out of equal parts pity and curiosity, Leo began visiting them every few days. He would bring snacks or scraps, and without fail, even if Hermione hadn't reminded him, he always came.
This evening was no different. He pulled a packet of dried fish from his bag, tore the strips apart, and scattered them across the cobblestones. The scrappy little army of cats rushed forward, mewling and jostling, tails twitching as they devoured the feast.
Leo crouched, watching them with a quiet smile. The sight of their joy brought him a strange sense of comfort. After a moment, though, temptation got the better of him. He slipped a dried fish into his hand, turning it over curiously. "How bad could this taste, anyway?" he muttered, half-amused at himself.
Just as he lifted it to his mouth, a prickle ran down his spine. Someone or something was watching him.
The sun had long dipped below the horizon. The night was starless, and the moonlight weak. The alley walls loomed high, swallowing what little glow the streetlamps offered. A chill crawled through the air.
Clutching the unbitten strip of fish, Leo gathered his nerve and stepped deeper into the shadowed corner.
There eyes gleamed back at him.
It was a cat. But not like the others.
A tabby, its fur sleek and pristine, with an uncanny ring-like pattern circling its eyes like a pair of spectacles etched into its face. Its posture was strikingly upright, its gaze sharp, almost regal. This was no ordinary stray.
The tabby inclined its head ever so slightly, a gesture far too deliberate for any common cat. Something important lingered in the air, something on the cusp of revealing itself.
But Leo, utterly missing the gravity of the moment, crouched down and chuckled.
"Why aren't you eating the dried fish? Scared of the scrappy lot over there? That won't do. You're a cat you've got to act like one."
Without hesitation, he reached out and patted the cat's head, even tugging playfully at its ears.
The tabby froze. Completely.
Leo grinned, amused at its dazed expression. "Silly thing," he said, dangling the fish in front of its nose. "Want some? Dried fish, delicious dried fish."
The tabby blinked.
Leo tilted his head. "Meow, meow, meow… why won't you eat the dried fish? Come on…"
The cat's body suddenly shuddered. In an instant, fur melted away, limbs stretched, and before Leo's eyes, the tabby became something wholly different a stern-looking woman in a pointed hat, square glasses perched firmly on her face.
"...Meow—holy cow!"
Leo yelped in shock, stumbling back and landing on the ground. His hands scrambled against the cobblestones as he scooted away, heart hammering.
The woman's expression was tight, her features drawn into the shadow of the alley. Her voice, however, rang steady.
"Leo Turner. You needn't be so alarmed."
The name echoed through the air, leaving Leo gaping.
She straightened, brushing her robes with a dignified air. "Let me introduce myself. I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You may call me Professor McGonagall."
Leo sat frozen, eyes wide, mouth open. He had no words. He had just petted the head of the Deputy Headmistress. Tugged her ears. And asked her Merlin help him why she wouldn't eat dried fish.
If there had been a way to dig a hole right then and vanish, he would have burrowed straight down to the center of the earth.
Professor McGonagall studied him, her sternness softening when she noticed his stunned silence. The stray cats had already scattered, leaving the alley oppressively quiet. She sighed, attempting a rare smile.
"Well then… are you not going to invite me inside?"
At Leo's house, things were no less surreal.
Professor McGonagall sat primly on the sofa, while Leo, flustered beyond reason, dashed about in service.
"Professor, here's some tea! Oh, wait don't drink that yet. I've got mung bean soup simmering; it's much better for thirst!"
She barely managed to place her untouched teacup back on the table before Leo was shoving snacks toward her with frantic cheer. "These are my favourites please, have some! They'll pair well with the soup."
Finally, McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Turner. Sit. Quietly."
Leo chuckled weakly, rubbing his hands before obeying like a scolded child.
The professor drew herself upright. "As you've just seen, I am a witch from Hogwarts, Britain's only and finest school of magic. You should already have received a letter."
Leo fished the envelope from his table, the same one he'd discovered on his doorstep earlier. He unfolded the parchment, revealing the Hogwarts crest and her signature.
As he did, a voice unlike any other suddenly whispered in his mind:
[Detected: host has been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. System activation conditions met.]
Leo froze, his mind reeling. Transmigration. Hogwarts. And now… a system? It was almost laughable. Or terrifying. He couldn't tell which.
McGonagall, oblivious to the storm inside him, continued with her usual composure. "Mr. Turner, do you understand the situation now? Are you prepared to spend seven years at Hogwarts to study magic?"
The choice was rhetorical, of course. No one refused Hogwarts. And certainly not Leo.
He swallowed, then nodded. "Yes, Professor. I'd be delighted."
For the first time that evening, her lips curved into a small, genuine smile. But it soon faded as she glanced around and asked, "And your family? They will need to be informed of this."
Leo's tone softened. "I'm an orphan, Professor. My parents passed when I was young. I live with my adoptive father now."
Her eyes dimmed with sympathy. "My apologies, child. Still, your guardian's consent will be necessary."
"Of course." Leo reached for the telephone on his table, holding it up for her approval. She gave a curt nod.
Dialing quickly, Leo leaned back. A steady male voice answered on the other end.
"Something wrong?"
"I've been invited to a school of magic. Seven years. My professor is sitting beside me. You need to give consent for my enrollment," Leo explained bluntly.
A pause. Then: "I understand."
"You consent?"
"I consent."
"That's all, then."
"Hm."
The call ended. Less than thirty seconds in total.
McGonagall sat speechless. In all her years of visiting Muggle-born families, she had never encountered a guardian so… accepting. Almost unnervingly so.
Leo, however, only smiled faintly to himself. He had chosen his adoptive father carefully and tonight, that choice had proven wise.