"I'm so, so sorry. I'm a bit allergic to cats; I really didn't mean to blow you away with magic on purpose."
Now, people like Ron, who have at least a basic grasp of common sense, might not have bought Tom's explanation. But Hagrid, being the honest soul he is, believed it wholeheartedly.
Thinking he had actually blasted Tom all the way back to the castle with a sneeze (which, technically, he had), Hagrid stood a few meters away, looking incredibly guilty. He kept his "tablecloth" over his nose and mouth as he offered Tom a sincere apology.
[It's fine. It wasn't entirely your fault.]
Tom waved a paw dismissively, acting the part of the bigger person—or cat.
He knew his own deal. While Hagrid's sneeze had definitely provided the propulsion, a normal cat wouldn't have flown that far unless they were as "unique" as Tom. Therefore, he wasn't going to hold a grudge.
[Also, just a heads-up: you might be allergic to other cats, but not necessarily to me. I'm not like other felines. You only sneezed just now because you thought you were going to be allergic.]
Tom held his head high. He was the world's most lovable cat—how could anyone be allergic to him? As a conceptually "ideal" cat, everything about him followed his own logic. If Hagrid believed he wasn't allergic, he wouldn't be.
"Really?!" Hagrid looked surprised, his eyes flickering with hesitation. Slowly, he lowered the cloth an inch. Then another.
When he realized nothing was happening, he pulled the tablecloth away entirely and took a cautious, deep breath. His nose didn't itch at all.
"Galloping gargoyles, I think you're right!" he muttered. He took a small step toward Tom. Still nothing. "That's amazing! It really stopped! But... how? Is it because you're a magical creature?"
[No, it's just because I'm a special existence.] Tom puffed out his chest proudly.
Hagrid blinked, looking at the extraordinary cat with a massive grin. "Oh, is that so? Well, you're definitely special. I've never seen a cat quite like you. You're a remarkable little fellow."
His eyes began to sparkle with a familiar longing. "You know, I've always loved magical creatures!" He sniffled, his tone turning regretful. "It's a shame about my lousy nose. I can never get too close to a Wampus cat. It's a real pity; I've always wanted to see those lovely creatures up close."
[Hey, don't lump me in with them! I am me, and other felines are... well, other felines!]
Tom cut him off quickly, fearing Hagrid might actually try to bring a Wampus cat home. He didn't know exactly what a Wampus was, but knowing Hagrid's taste, it probably wasn't "cuddly" or "docile."
"Oh, of course. You're right," Hagrid nodded fervently, not wanting Tom to misunderstand. "I wouldn't dream of comparing you to them. Honestly, just being able to be near you is enough for me."
While the phrasing was a bit weird, Tom found it quite flattering.
Hagrid rubbed his hands together, looking a bit sheepish. "Anyway, your name is Tom, right? Dumbledore told me about you—a cat starting school this year. I've been wanting to meet you since I heard. If you ever need help at Hogwarts, or if you want some rock cakes—though Harry says they're like stones—you're always welcome here. And if anyone... well, if anything makes you unhappy, you just tell me."
Hagrid's words were a bit vague, but Tom could read between the lines. The half-giant had likely faced prejudice himself and wanted to look out for another "non-human" student.
[Don't worry, I'm a Hufflepuff~] Tom's tail flicked. Besides, who could hate a cat as cute as him? (Slytherins notwithstanding). [But if you really want to help, why not invite us in for a seat!]
"Oh! Right! Where's my head gone?" Hagrid scrambled to push the wooden door open. "Come in, come in! Everyone, get inside where it's warm."
The interior was simple but cozy. Hams hung from the ceiling, a dusty rug covered the floor, and a massive bed sat in the corner with a patched-up quilt. There was no fireplace; the only source of heat was a large, rustic brazier in the center.
And then there was Fang, the massive boarhound.
He had been growling at the door, looking fierce, but the moment he saw Harry, he turned into a furry cannonball. He lunged forward, giving the "Boy Who Lived" a thorough face-washing with his tongue.
Then, Fang noticed Tom. Tom expected a "Spike-style" confrontation, but Fang just froze. His ears went back, and he let out a low whimper.
Tom didn't sense any aggression. Fang was just confused: Why is this cat walking on two legs?
As they watched, Fang tried to imitate him. He propped his front paws against Harry, wobbling precariously as he tried to stand upright. Unfortunately, being a purebred dog, his skeleton wasn't built for that. He crashed back to the floor after a few seconds.
Fang wasn't discouraged, though. He wagged his tail excitedly, crawled over to Tom's feet, and let out a friendly, curious bark.
"Fang, I told you... oh, you big softy!" Hagrid laughed as he saw the scene. He'd never seen Fang act so friendly toward a feline. He reached down to ruffle Fang's head. "You usually bark your head off at cats. Why are you being so polite today? Looks like he really likes you, Tom. Doesn't he, Fang?"
[Actually, I think he just wants to know how I walk on two legs.]
Tom's expression was a bit odd. To his ears, Fang was practically begging for lessons on how to stand up.
"Haha, Fang wants to walk on two legs? What a silly dog. Always has the strangest ideas." Hagrid began making tea. "Don't mind him; he'll lose interest in three minutes."
He poured the tea into cups that were just right for his giant hands but looked like giant soup bowls to everyone else.
[Maybe. But I think he just wants to be a bit closer to you.] Tom accepted his tea and a rock cake with a nod.
The moment Hagrid spoke, Fang stubbornly barked that he only wanted to learn to walk upright so he could be at eye level with Hagrid. Whether it was a sweet sentiment or just an excuse, Tom wasn't sure. He could understand what animals said, but he couldn't always tell what they were thinking.
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