Many students saw Pansy storm out from the second-floor corridor furiously. Some claimed she'd viciously mocked Professor Quirrell's turban and earned detention. Others said she went to protest to Anthony because he'd apparently taken Slytherin points again.
"Nobody combined the two rumors?" Anthony spread butter on his bread, puzzled. "Like, because Parkinson mocked Professor Quirrell's turban, Anthony took Slytherin points and assigned detention?"
At breakfast, Professor Sprout excitedly discussed student speculation with him. Some wondered why Pansy went to the second-floor corridor alone instead of clinging to Malfoy's side.
Professor Sprout repeated in surprise, "Parkinson mocked Professor Quirrell's turban?"
"No—probably not, I don't know," Anthony said. "I'm just saying that rumor might be closer to truth than the other two. You all know I assigned the detention. Why is everyone guessing Quirrell?"
"Because neither of you has given detention before," Professor Flitwick said, standing on his chair to spear a sausage. "Some probably guessed you, Professor Anthony, but you're already famous for taking points."
Professor Sprout said, "All sorts of stories. Some say she went to visit Moaning Myrtle, but Myrtle wasn't appreciative, so it angered her." She smiled tolerantly. "Term just started. Not much homework yet. So for students, any little thing is news."
"Speaking of which, is the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor Quidditch match the day after tomorrow?" Anthony suddenly remembered.
Professor Sprout nodded. "Yes. Coming, Henry?"
Anthony said, "If I'm free, definitely."
After last match, he'd practiced Levitation Charm aim for ages and experimented with transfiguring random objects into mattresses. He'd found a very old Quidditch regulation allowing him to forcibly stuff a whistle into Madam Hooch's mouth—he was a disinterested adult neutral spectator who could alert the referee in emergencies. Though this meant after the match he'd go to the Quidditch Court with the referee, but... that court had been abolished.
For "neutral spectator" status, this match he wouldn't sit with Hufflepuff students or support Gryffindor. Considering the remaining two houses' feelings toward him, he accepted Professor Flitwick's invitation and planned to sit beside him with a bunch of Ravenclaws to watch. Anthony looked forward to it somewhat.
Hopefully they'd provide clearer match commentary than Hagrid.
When Anthony left his office with his notebook, he happened to encounter Professor Quirrell next door leaving.
"P-Professor Anthony," Quirrell showed a nervous smile. "G-going to the l-library again?"
Anthony nodded. "Yes, looking for some materials. You, Professor Quirrell?"
Quirrell hesitated and said, "I'm—I'm going to the library too."
Anthony accompanied Professor Quirrell. Perhaps Quirrell really had hung his office full of garlic—the smell on him seemed stronger and stronger.
After greeting Madam Pince, they separated to find books. Anthony originally wanted to research how to transform wraiths into complete physical form, but helplessly discovered he seemed to have finished the Dark Arts books describing Necromancy and wraiths in the library.
If he hadn't been unable to find Dumbledore recently, Anthony would go straight to the Headmaster's office to ask his advice. After all, if a wraith completely transformed into physical form, at least appearance-wise it could be called quite perfect resurrection.
He sighed and decided to check the magical creatures area again. If someone was willing to sleep beside a sleeping Basilisk, at least that person wasn't him.
Then he smelled Professor Quirrell again.
Quirrell still stood between the magical creature bookshelves, trembling and muttering to himself. "Can't—I can't find—no, no—can't continue—" He let out a desperate sob.
Anthony immediately prepared to leave and give this poor man some peace, but Professor Quirrell had already noticed him. He straightened up, wiped away tears, and forced an odd smile. "P-Professor Anthony, what—what are you l-looking for?"
Anthony pretended not to see sweat rolling down from his turban and had to find a random excuse. "I'm looking for... um, Adorable Big Friends. But it doesn't seem to be here. I'll check the public area."
He was about to turn and leave.
Professor Quirrell's lips trembled and twisted. He said, "I—I borrowed it—" With a weak smile, "C-can give it to you—"
Anthony said in surprise, "You have it? Madam Pince said there's no borrowing record."
Quirrell flinched and nodded. "She—she wasn't—wasn't at the desk then."
Anthony couldn't bear to keep asking. Quirrell looked very weak.
"Then I'll go back to the office with you, Professor Quirrell," Anthony said. "Do you need me to get some potion from Madam Pomfrey?"
Quirrell shook his head silently, hunched over, and walked slowly out of the library with him. Anthony couldn't help saying, "Get some rest, Professor Quirrell."
Anthony entered his neighbor's office for the first time.
It really was hung full of garlic as student legends said, but what rumors didn't mention was his room was also filled with books and Dark Arts artifacts. Three walls were bookshelves. Several stacks of books that wouldn't fit were piled on the floor. Parchment scattered across the desk, drawn with many curse model sketches in black ink Anthony couldn't understand. Beside them were annotations in scrawled, trembling, barely legible writing.
Quirrell waved his wand. A bookshelf suddenly folded up, revealing the bedroom behind. He led Anthony inside—the bedroom had almost exactly the same decor as the office, except no garlic here, and a bed in the corner. Three walls also all bookshelves. Even though Anthony couldn't read the spine titles, he could sense their preciousness and danger from these tomes' binding and aura similar to the Restricted Section.
Anthony suspected Quirrell dressed plainly year-round, not even willing to change his turban, because he spent all his money buying books and researching magic.
"I—I'll look for it," Quirrell said, gesturing for Anthony to sit by the desk and wait. Back in familiar surroundings, he seemed much more comfortable.
"Of course, thank you, Professor Quirrell," Anthony said and casually glanced at the open book on the desk.
It was a large illustration, drawn with delicate strokes of a beautiful unicorn. Anthony smiled and looked at the book title in the upper right corner. Beneath Magic.
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