💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎
🔥 30→2ch | 60→5ch | 100→8ch | 200→15ch | 400→25ch
⏰ Resets Monday!
------
Snow kept falling. Every time Anthony looked out the window, he watched snowflakes spiral down. The ground lay buried under thick white. The fir trees around the castle sagged under the weight, branches drooping low until snow slid off in heavy clumps, punching small craters into the drifts below. The Black Lake had frozen solid again. Snow piled so thick on top that you couldn't tell where lake ended and lawn began.
Fires roared in every castle fireplace, crackling and throwing light across the walls. But cold seeped through every crack in the stone. Drafts howled through the corridors. Students didn't linger there. Since inside felt as cold as outside, plenty of them just went out for snowball fights instead. Ears and noses turned bright red. Breath puffed out in white clouds. Some even forgot about class time.
Christmas drew closer. Students looked forward to the holiday. Nobody had the heart for lessons anymore.
Seeing everyone so distracted, Anthony simply organized a midterm test.
"I can guarantee this matches what you'll face at the end of term. Same difficulty." Anthony passed out parchment. "Oh, and the usual rule—don't compare answers with other classes ahead of time." He paused. "Like other quizzes, it won't count toward your final grade. But do well and there's a reward."
He'd shown this test to Professor Burbage beforehand. She'd assured him his scope and difficulty were spot-on.
"I've overseen the exam syllabus for nearly a decade," Professor Burbage had said with quiet pride. "If I'm wrong, I'll resign and go back to being an examiner. You can have Hogwarts, Henry. We'd work well together."
"What's the reward this time, Professor?" a student asked cheerfully. They'd all noticed the lectern held no snacks today.
Anthony smiled. "Secret. If you're lucky, you'll find out when you come back after Christmas."
"Is it a Christmas tree covered in Muggle presents?" someone guessed.
"I hope it's Muggle Christmas song records..."
"Father Christmas! I heard Muggles really believe in him!"
"An Eskimo house? Are we having class in an igloo, Professor?"
Anthony had to regretfully inform them he wouldn't say anything. Life needed a little surprise, especially around Christmas.
The students, appetites thoroughly whetted, could only focus on their papers. Since he'd started teaching, with a little help from Honeydukes, Anthony had built solid credit with the students. Every reward he'd promised, he'd delivered.
When Anthony brought the collected tests back to his office, curious students still clung to him, trying to pry something out.
Past "surprises" had always been ready. Even when he wouldn't tell them beforehand, Anthony would immediately produce little trinkets from under the lectern, outside the window, inside his hat—all sorts of unexpected places—and hand them over with a smile.
This was the first time Anthony hadn't told them what the reward actually was. They still hadn't guessed what it might be.
"I really can't say." Anthony raised his hands in surrender. "Can't confirm yet. Need to write a few reports before I can tell you the results. I can only say that based on how you've been in class, you should all like it quite a bit."
Cedric had a sudden thought. "Professor, are you giving us two hundred points? That would definitely need a report."
Anthony looked shocked. "No!" He stared at this wildly imaginative student. "Slytherin's already running low on points. If I give three houses two hundred points each, what happens to Slytherin?"
"Slytherin would hate Professor Anthony," a student nodded. "They've already been impressively diligent."
Though being called "diligent" might be an unconscious insult to proud Slytherin students, Anthony had to admit he was right. At least in Hufflepuff terms, the student was showing respect to Slytherin.
"All right, off you go. Doesn't your next class start soon? Not one correct guess." Anthony waved them away. "Hope your luck's better on the test than it was just now."
Cedric grinned. "I wasn't guessing."
"I know." Anthony looked helplessly at his top student. "Go on, you'll be late. Merry Christmas, Diggory."
His students waved at him. "Merry Christmas, Professor Anthony!"
One student shouted, "If the reward doesn't get approved, remember to give us Christmas presents!"
"Got it, got it. Merry Christmas! Hey, slow down, Peeves was—" A student slipped on ice disguised as stone tiles. "—up to something there."
The heavily bundled student was fine. A classmate pulled him up and they kept running down the corridor.
Anthony watched them go. He pulled out his key to unlock his door. Behind him, his office door suddenly creaked open. Professor Quirrell stood in the doorway, hand on the frame, looking at him. No telling how long he'd been listening behind the door.
"The students like you very much," Quirrell said.
Anthony studied him for a moment. Setting aside teaching ability—Professor Burbage's meaningful smile and head shake said enough about that—Quirrell had once been the Muggle Studies professor. Seeing the newly hired Anthony so popular must stir some feelings.
Anthony couldn't help noticing students didn't much like the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His stuttering, somewhat unhinged teaching style, his bizarre purple turban, and the persistent garlic smell clinging to him all prevented students from discovering his real talent.
What surprised Anthony was that even some professors seemed unaware of Quirrell's abilities. He'd had plenty of classmates like that in undergrad. They looked like weirdos but were actually brilliant, producing excellent work. They just couldn't present well. Their final grades often ended up merely "Acceptable."
"I'm pretty lucky," Anthony said consolingly. "I teach an elective. Students who take it are already interested. Plus Professor Burbage helps me, and I only handle two years. Lighter teaching load."
Quirrell shook his head. "You're very g-good. Professors and students all t-trust you."
"Ah, thanks." Anthony responded, bewildered.
Quirrell nodded. Quietly shut his door. Anthony stared at his office door—a portrait of garlic—for a moment. Shook his head. Went back to his own office.
Maybe Quirrell just wanted to express goodwill. Maybe he'd had a drink—who knew? Under all that garlic, Anthony doubted he could smell any amount of alcohol.
------
🔥 Want to read the next 30 chapters RIGHT NOW?
💎 Patreon members get instant access!
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 Join on -
✨patreon.com/GoldenLong