Disclaimer: Cats and Harry Potter are not mine!

A cool breeze rushed through the junkyard, ruffling the fur of the inhabitants sleeping therein. The sunlight of early dawn reflected off a smashed windshield, causing a few irritable grumbles from what appeared to be a mass of furry flesh. This in fact was known as Rum Tum Tugger, cushioned by his adoring female fan club. The black figure shook its long -auburn mane, as he proceeded to stride jauntily down the piles of metal refuse he had been sleeping upon. Slowly, the other residents of the junkyard started to show signs of early morning activity, grooming their fur with quick strokes of their tongue, batting and nuzzling in post-dawn salutation. Graceful limbs stretched out as the population started to make their way down to the central area of the trash heap. As the outlines approached, many would be shocked to discover that these shapes became human in nature, although the fur found in profusions on their bodies said otherwise. Tails swishing to and fro, velvety ears perked forward in response to the ever changing spectrum of sound. Heads covered in fur, many having tabby, spotted or striped patterns running across their bodies made it difficult to say whether they were more human than cat, or more cat than anything else.

These unique individuals were known as the Jellicle Tribe, a band of cat-people unknown throughout most of the world except to those who have scoured the world multiple times, and have the uncanny knowledge of many strange but wonderful creatures. Considered Muses of the arts by those who have awareness of their existence, they are exquisite dancers and musicians, their voices like bells caroling on a crisp morning among the mountains. Invoking many of the traditions held up by cats, they employed effortless grace and feline charm into every movement they saw fit to make, for they were proud creatures, not easily swayed by the opinion of anyone else. These wondrous beings were led by the wisest of men, for he was not a man at all. His title was Old Deuteronomy, though no one truly knows of his first name, for it has been lost in the folds of time.

Old Deuteronomy is covered in matted gray fur; countless years have taken a toll on the old Jellicle's back, for he must walk hunched over, his steps tottering and slow. But if you look past the wrinkles swathing his face, you gaze into eyes that seem young, but eternally wise. They seem to twinkle with a child's mischief, but are clouded over with the cares and worries of many lifetimes, for it is unknown how old he really is. Each year, bathed in the light of the Jellicle Moon, he chose the one cat that travels to the Heaviside Layer, destined to be reborn, and come back to a different Jellicle life.

The ancient cat-man heaved his weary bones into a roughly constructed throne made from various bits of metal and wood found through-out the junkyard. Many Jellicles of various sizes and colors make their way up to their leader, fondly rubbing their head and pawing at the old, mangled coat adorning the patriarch of their clan. Standing at his right side was his son Munkustrap, a tall, imposing silver tabby, the future leader of the Jellicle Tribe. His fine, resonating voice rang out among the numbers of the assembled tribe.

"Jellicle Cats meet once a year, and now that the Jellicle leader is here," gesturing grandly at his father, "Jellicle Cats can now rejoice!" Paws were flung up in the air, celebrating the festivity that the Jellicle Moon bestowed. For each Jellicle Moon, a great Jellicle Ball was held, celebrating the gifts of music and dance. Each Jellicle was invited to contribute to the Ball, performing great feats of skillful dance steps, singing heart-wrenching melodies, or even, in one case, performing very peculiar feats of magic.