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Anthony and his cat walked by the Black Lake. The sun was out today, and everyone with free time had come out to enjoy this bit of winter sunshine.
After Halloween, the weather had turned very cold. The Black Lake was covered with ice, thickening a little more each day. At first only birds stood on it, then students ventured out, and now Anthony had even seen Fang jump onto it.
Hagrid, wrapped in his moleskin coat and pulling the big dog, waved at Anthony from a distance.
The mountains surrounding the school were covered in ice and snow, white peaks glittering in the sunlight. Madam Pomfrey's medicine cabinet was filled with Pepperup Potions. Students wrapped in winter robes had noses and ears flushed red from cold.
"Professor Anthony!" Mildred waved at him. She was a member of the perfect-score class and had earned quite a few points and treats from him.
She walked with several girls, carrying a small bag of colorful sweets—they'd apparently just returned from Hogsmeade.
Anthony smiled. "Hello there."
"Oh, is this the cat that doesn't like people?" Mildred crouched to look at the cat. "But it's really quite beautiful."
His cat had gained some reputation among students. Not comparable to Mrs. Norris, of course, but after it wandered out alone, many students knew of a particularly wary ginger cat that would run away whenever anyone approached.
The Weasley twins had even tracked this cat, chasing it all the way from the greenhouses to the castle's second floor. If they hadn't run into Professor Quirrell coming downstairs to his office, Anthony thought they might not have stopped in time and would have followed the cat through the pet passage he'd left.
The cat jumped into Anthony's arms, looking down at Mildred from its elevated position.
Mildred laughed. "Professor, where did you buy the cat?"
"Found it," Anthony said, rubbing the cat's head. The cat irritably shook its ears and burrowed its head into the robes.
Actually dug it up, but no need to tell students that.
"That's wonderful," Mildred said enviously. "I'd like a cat too."
Anthony knew her family circumstances were modest—she hadn't bought a pet. Clean, pretty pets in the Magical Menagerie were expensive, and quite a few Hogwarts students had no pets.
He had a sudden idea. "Would ones not sold in Diagon Alley work too?"
"Of course," Mildred said delightedly. "Professor, do you know someone who sells cats?"
Anthony shook his head. "No. Let me think... I can't say for certain yet. I need to talk with other professors first... but if you all keep performing this well, the feasibility should be quite high."
He wanted to take students to see the British Muggle world firsthand.
Rather than sitting in a classroom describing how the majority on the other side of the wall lived, better to experience it themselves. Near his former community happened to be a pet adoption agency with simple procedures, very suitable for serious, responsible students like Mildred who wanted pets.
Even without knowing what he meant, Mildred nodded vigorously. "I'll perform well."
Anthony smiled. "Just maintain your current state. I dare say you're at least an E. Put it this way—my quiz knowledge points cover the O.W.L. exam scope, even including N.E.W.T. content, just with simpler question formats."
He'd discussed Muggle Studies O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s with Professor Burbage.
Based on questions he'd seen in the archives, these exams stayed close to contemporary Muggle life, quite current... and as students turned in disastrous answers each year, exam difficulty had dropped repeatedly, simplified to a degree he found unbelievable.
He'd asked Professor Burbage who was responsible for exam questions, why test questions differed so much from the textbook (Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles). Professor Burbage told him these official exams had expert question-writing committees, with little connection to school professors.
Anthony asked if she knew who was on the Muggle Studies expert committee. He was truly curious what experts thought seeing the answers. Under late-20th-century questions, students earnestly answered about 18th-century Muggle life.
"I was the committee chair then," Professor Burbage said calmly. "So when I heard the Muggle Studies position opened up, I decided to come see."
After assuring the student of her grades, Anthony watched her walk away happily with friends.
"Hey, you!" He suddenly heard an angry roar like thunder. Turning, he saw Hagrid striding toward a group of younger students.
The children had been gathered in a circle on the Black Lake's ice, laughing continuously—Anthony had thought they were playing games.
Hagrid walked over furiously and pulled out a student from among them. "You little devils! Get back to the castle!"
Anthony recognized the student he'd pulled out. Neville Longbottom.
He'd been cursed, mucus flowing uncontrollably, hanging crystalline on his tear-reddened face in the cold weather.
"We were just reviewing class material. Right, Longbottom?" The leader of the group said dismissively with a laugh. "Since when does reviewing violate school rules?"
Hagrid said gruffly, "You lot, back to the castle. Don't make me carry you in. All right, Neville, don't cry. We'll find a solution."
"Fine, fine," the student sneered. "Only knows how to hide behind others, hmm? Longbottom? Showing some brains now? Even Peeves sometimes speaks truth. How did it go? Gryffindor, full of hot air; took in Longbottom, gasping for breath."
Neville sobbed breathlessly, suddenly wrenching free from Hagrid's large hand and charging at the student while wiping his nose.
His head slammed hard into the other's stomach, knocking the student onto the ice. The other clutched his stomach and got up, his fine robes smeared with Neville's tears and mucus.
"Your clothes are ruined, Draco," a nearby girl said with disgust.
The student called Draco muttered something through gritted teeth, wand slashing sharply downward. The ice beneath Neville suddenly vanished. He fell into the water with a splash.
"Good heavens! Neville!" Hagrid reached to pull him out, but after falling, Neville seemed unable to find where the hole was and didn't surface.
"He needs a good wash," the student said contemptuously. "Let's go. I need to change clothes."
Anthony had sprinted over the moment Neville fell. His cat ran faster, rushing to the ice hole and jumping in without hesitation.
He had Hagrid drive away nearby students, then pressed his hand on the ice, closed his eyes, sensing the bones in the lake... he could make it, definitely...
His cat dispersed in the water... detached limbs, cat head, cat paws, cat tail, searching and retrieving in different directions for the young Gryffindor.
Suddenly, the mass of necromantic magic belonging to his cat condensed together, fluctuating violently, as if struggling to pull something heavy.
"Here!" Anthony clenched his fist sharply.
The wraiths near the lake bottom were suddenly awakened, the entire ice surface glowing with ghostly fire. At his command, they frantically attacked the ice above the cat's head, instantly drilling through a hole.
The cat surfaced, pulling the unconscious Neville. Hagrid immediately scooped him up and ran toward the hospital wing. The cat climbed soaking onto shore, irritably trying to shake off the water.
Anthony withdrew his hand from the ice and slowly stood. Without his magic, the wraiths in the lake gradually dispersed. A fish swam up through the ice hole in confusion, then quickly dove back down, leaving only ripples spreading in circles.
He walked to shore. That group of students stood in shadows cast by bare branches, observing everything happening on the lake from a distance.
They looked up at Anthony.
"You—you—" Anthony scanned the line of faces. "Slytherin, twenty points from each of you. I need to speak with your Head of House."
They didn't know they'd nearly killed someone.
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