The Scottish round-faced fat hen was called Al.
He landed in Carter Manor with a thud, shook out his feathers, and stared at the Garfield he knew with familiarity.
"Long time no see, round face." Garfield greeted him warmly.
The hen puffed up, eyes narrowing, looking exactly like someone to whom Garfield owed a substantial sum of money.
"Cuckoo, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck!"
Garfield stared blankly. "…Are you saying that I used to write books and never update them on time?"
Al shook his head violently and jabbed a claw at the letter clenched in his beak.
"Cuckoo."
"It's not my fault." Garfield sighed.
"You know how hard it is to deliver mail to me. When I'm not on Earth, it's perfectly normal that you can't find me."
"Don't tell me you actually flew halfway around the world."
Al looked at him with naked disgust. "Cuckoo, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck!"
"Great speech," Garfield nodded thoughtfully.
Then he pointed at himself. "By the way, I've heard Scottish round-faced fat chickens make excellent soup."
As a certified messenger of the wizarding world, Al possessed an intelligence far beyond that of ordinary poultry.
He instantly understood the threat.
Without another word, he dropped the letter at Garfield's feet, flapped his wings furiously, and shot back toward the barn.
"Hmph," Garfield muttered. "You still fly fast."
Garfield bent down and examined the envelope.
Brand new and official seal. The ink was barely dry.
That was quick, he thought.
After a careful inspection, he confirmed there were no curses, no tracking spells, and no traces of black magic. Satisfied, he opened the letter.
Greetings,
Your Majesty, King Garfield I. Welcome home.
On behalf of the British Ministry of Magic, we sincerely hope to establish a long-term and stable diplomatic relationship with you.
We would be honored if you could dispatch a representative or attend in person for a formal discussion at the Ministry.
With respect,
Albus Dumbledore
Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Foreign Minister, a department head.
Albus always had extra tricks up his sleeve. The man would squeeze every possible diplomatic advantage out of any meeting.
"I really don't want to deal with him." Garfield muttered. "I'd much prefer a kindly old gentleman."
Besides, meeting Albus almost certainly meant discussing Grindelwald. And Garfield still felt awkward about the… basket he'd made for himself back then.
Still…
"I'll make time." He decided.
Garfield opened his magic pocket and poured out the spoils he had acquired. Gold, artifacts, ill-gotten gains.
He cast his familiar Cat-Claw Gold Smelting Spell, now refined through countless repetitions.
Several exhausting days later, the work was done.
Completely drained, Garfield returned to Peggy's room in Carter Manor, curled himself into a familiar corner, and fell asleep in a neat orange ball.
"Huhuhu… zzz…"
Even his grunts rose and fell rhythmically.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
The old servants of Carter Manor exchanged uneasy glances. "…Did you hear that?"
"It sounded like purring."
"That's impossible. We haven't seen that orange cat in seven years."
"Exactly. Baobuqi already became fertilizer for the flowers outside."
"…Still, something feels off."
"Wait, look. Carl is here."
Carl Garfield's first knight and the oldest hound of Carter Manor walked into the hall.
His status was unique, higher than any ordinary servant.
He was over ten years old now. By a dog's reckoning, that made him ancient.
His fur had gone gray, his face sagged with age, yet his eyes still shone with an inexplicable clarity.
Carl sniffed the air. Fresh and royal.
The king had returned.
He lifted his head and looked toward the staircase. The climb would be difficult, but still within his strength.
"Woof. Woof. Woof."
Carl barked softly a few times, gathering his courage.
Come on, Carl, he told himself. His Majesty has returned. A knight does not hesitate.
With great effort, the old hound began climbing the stairs.
"Oh my God…" The servants of Carter Manor halted.
"What is Carl doing?"
"He's so old, what if he falls?"
"Don't just stare! Go inform the housekeeper and the master. You two, stay here and watch him!"
The eldest servant gave the orders. No one dared take this lightly. If anything happened to Carl, none of them could bear the responsibility.
With the careful support of two servants, Carl finally reached the door to Peggy's room. His breathing was heavy, each grunt filled with stubborn determination.
He scratched at the door excitedly.
The servants understood at once and opened it.
The room was quiet, filled only with the soft, rhythmic sound of snoring. Following the sound, they saw…
An orange ball curled neatly atop Peggy's bed.
Carl's tail trembled. He walked to the bedside, intending to nudge Garfield awake, but then he stopped.
A knight does not disturb his king.
Instead, Carl leapt onto the bed, settled beside him, and sat silently on guard.
The two servants had worked in Carter Manor for decades. They had seen Garfield before, long ago.
Now, after seven years, they were seeing him again. "Oh my God… It's that orange cat."
"Miss Peggy and the master have talked about him for seven years."
"He really came back."
"It's unbelievable." Their voices were hushed.
Carl's ears twitched.
He shot them a sharp glare, the servants immediately fell silent.
Not long after, the housekeeper arrived followed closely by Old James Carter.
The moment James heard the familiar yet distant snoring, his steps slowed. Then he saw the orange shape on the bed.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
"You're back." He said softly.
"I thought I wouldn't live to see you again, Garfield."
Turning to the housekeeper, he spoke firmly. "Go bring Peggy home."
"Then arrange food for twenty people, extra meat. Tell the chef to prepare a banquet. We'll begin when he wakes."
The butler bowed. As an old hand of the Carter family, he knew the deeper truth behind this orange cat and understood exactly what his master meant.
"Yes, sir."
He ushered the two stunned servants out of the room and immediately began issuing orders.
Everything moved swiftly.
Old James Carter remained. He walked quietly to the sofa and sat down beside Carl, waiting.
The sun drifted westward.
The moon rose without sound.
Peggy was brought home in a rush. At first she was confused, until she heard the snoring.
Then she ran as fast a she could.
Pushing past everyone, she greeted her grandfather in passing, ignored Carl's bewildered stare, and threw her arms around the sleeping orange cat.
"Garfield you're back!"
She rubbed her face against him again and again.
Rub, rub, rub.
Garfield squinted one eye open.
He looked at Peggy now grown, still holding him tightly and let out a long, confused sound.
"Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream