He had just about managed to convince them of his capabilities of walking when they figured out that magic worked after all, and talk turned to transfiguration. Tyb arched his back in disapproval of that idea, not trusting any of them not to see him left with a cat head or tail eternally, and instead padded over to the woman, who seemed sensible enough that he'd forgo his dignity and be carried, if it came to it. If all else failed, the life of a cat wouldn't be so bad, would it? He wouldn't be much of a quidditch player, but at least he'd never have to get a real job, either. He could still see Elsie, even, he supposed, picturing himself laying inconveniently across an open book in her lap and being petted between the ears. He'd make a good cat, really. One might say Tybalt would make the prince of cats.
Even a future as a cat depended on them all getting out of here, though.
Even a future as a cat depended on them all getting out of here, though.
The following 4 users Like Tybalt Kirke's post:
Acacia Darlington, Bella Scrimgeour, Elsie Kirke, Philip Calendar
Acacia Darlington, Bella Scrimgeour, Elsie Kirke, Philip Calendar
