💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎
🔥 30→2ch | 60→5ch | 100→8ch | 200→15ch | 400→25ch
⏰ Resets Monday!
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By the time he returned to the castle, it was dinner time. Hagrid and Fang went back to their hut ("Next time, Henry, next time we'll go to the bookshop!"). Anthony trudged heavily to the Great Hall for dinner.
What dampened his mood wasn't just the unicorn's death. Also the Acromantulas' identification... The killer was human. This meant either a dangerous person had secretly infiltrated Hogwarts, or this person was his student. Colleague.
Either way meant someone was coming to disturb the stable school life he'd finally gradually adapted to. Grown to like.
The hall was full of warm fragrance. Silver plates piled with potatoes and fried sausages. Plates decorated with sugar-frosted violets. Weather gradually warming. Crystal-clear bowls mixed with salad. Even students who hated vegetables most would take a spoonful. Glass stands stacked with small cakes. Beside them a large bowl of chocolate ice cream steaming with cold.
Anthony passed the four house hourglasses—excellent, no changes—passed students hotly discussing recent British Quidditch League ("Puddlemere has the world's best Chasers!" a Gryffindor shouted loudly, nearly flinging salad dressing on Anthony). Stopped two careless buyers trading History of Magic essays in front of a professor. Witnessed a prank.
"Careful, Mr. Thomas," Anthony kindly reminded. He was very fortunate to just see one Weasley twin grinning while picking up a teapot. Poured Thomas some water.
"Professor Anthony?" Thomas looked up surprised. Looked at Anthony beside him. Then at the staff table. "You... cough cough cough..."
He choked on bacon until his face turned red. Absentmindedly grabbed the teacup at hand. Raised it to his mouth—
"No, wait..."
Under watching students' expectant gazes, the teacup immediately bit Thomas's nose unceremoniously.
"Ow!" Thomas pulled the cup's handle. Stretched his nose long. "Fred! George!"
The Weasley twins were watching him with interest from the crowd.
"Here," Fred said cheerfully.
"What do you want?" George looked around. "Oh my, Alfie, your nose ring is quite special."
He reached out to scratch the cup's bottom. The teacup immediately released Thomas's nose. Fell on the table clanging and rolling twice. Shrank up ticklishly.
Thomas picked up the teacup. Turned it over to look. Said irritably, "Yeah, look carefully. Isn't this Zonko's logo?" He rubbed his nose. The tip now shone bright red. "That bite was quite firm!"
"You shouldn't have pulled," the student beside him said. Also leaned over to look at the cup. "I say, this is really good!"
Watching his sparkling eyes, Anthony predicted the next few weeks he'd encounter lots of students with bright red nose tips in corridors.
"That's why I told you to be careful, Mr. Thomas," he said. Couldn't help smiling too.
Because most professors went to Professor McGonagall's lecture banquet, the staff table was empty. Dumbledore was as always busy. His seat stood in the middle like a monument. Across Professor Flitwick's high chair, caretaker Argus Filch sat gloomily in his seat. Nodded distantly at Anthony. Mrs. Norris sat at his feet. Gaze following several owls flying in. Meowed longingly.
Anthony considered. Carried his plate to sit beside Filch. Filch startled. Hand holding fork with thick knuckles trembled. The plate made a harsh groaning sound.
"Good evening, Professor Anthony," Filch said. He bulged his bulb-like eyes somewhat flustered. Suspiciously stole glances at Anthony.
Anthony nodded. "Good evening, Mr. Filch."
"What was that?" Filch asked gleefully. Roughly nodded toward the noisy Gryffindor table. His tone full of cheerful malice.
Anthony said perfunctorily, "Nothing."
He'd looked. Not anything dangerous. Not worth throwing several people to scrub toilets for this. Even though before class everyone told him the Weasley twins were quite troublesome, through this school year's interaction—and of course, some correspondence with Mr. Weasley—Anthony had gained considerable confidence in these brothers.
On the other hand, he and Filch always had some... ha, educational philosophy differences. Both knew this well. Ever since Anthony politely interrupted Filch's eloquent discussion about Muggle torture, they'd had no more communication.
Their cats also didn't get along.
Once when Anthony walked with his cat, they encountered Mrs. Norris. That dull-colored thing arched its body. Lowered its tail. All its fur stood up. The ginger cat haughtily rubbed Anthony's calf. When Anthony bent to scratch its head, it comfortably narrowed its eyes. Indifferently watched Mrs. Norris run along the wall in a flash.
But Anthony didn't sit over today to make trouble for Filch. They were far from mutual hatred. No need to use the long table to display their rift.
Anthony actively chose a relatively safe topic. "Today's fried sausages are more burnt than usual, aren't they?"
Filch frowned. Said cautiously, "Quite right, Professor."
"I didn't expect so many people would go hear Minerva's lecture," Anthony said. Watched students below wave roasted lamb ribs. Made dueling gestures.
Filch's cheeks twitched. Showed a terrible expression. Watched these students who'd grown bolder because professors left school. Right under their noses, a lower-year Ravenclaw was stabbing a fried sausage with a fork. Used its slightly yellowed, crispy burnt end to point at the cherry cake before him. Waved and shook. "Wingard—Dimleviosa."
His mouth gaped in surprise when the cake actually floated up. Could practically stuff the delicate little cake before him in one bite.
The student beside him stared at this beautiful kitchen-elf creation swaying in midair. Then looked at the mountain of fried sausages before him. Also cautiously forked one.
Anthony stared expressionlessly at the lettuce and bacon on his plate. Pretended everyone should hold their wand under the table with their right hand while eating.
While the student chanted, he couldn't help pulling out his wand. From under the staff table aimed at that cake. Also quietly recited the Levitation Charm.
Filch twitched his nose. Twisted his mouth corner to remind him, "Professor Anthony, no magic allowed in castle halls and corridors."
"Sorry," Anthony said. Controlled the cake to gently land on the student's plate. Then neatly withdrew his wand. Began concentrating on cutting bacon.
At this time, the Ravenclaw table already had everyone holding a fried sausage.
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