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Even after attending numerous wizarding gatherings, this one still ranked among the strangest Anthony had ever experienced.
Everyone seemed to have a lot to say about Muggles, pulling him into discussions about how the International Statute of Secrecy should be revised to handle complex situations ("If a wizard tells a Muggle about magic without actually demonstrating it, should that still count as a violation?") or whether the Muggle Protection Act should cover non-magical injuries ("If a wizard kills someone with a knife, that shouldn't be treated as a magic vs. non-magic conflict!").
Professor Burbage and Walker were locked in a debate about whether Muggles should govern wizards. Walker argued that all rational people should push for the Ministry to become just another ordinary department within the British Muggle government, merging magical and Muggle Britain into one. Professor Burbage was adamant that such a move would only cause massive, unnecessary upheaval for both societies. Mrs. Dolan, her expression severe, stalked around the hall, grilling everyone she met on whether they could identify the brand and year of the cola they were drinking.
"Are you this year's professor?" She yanked Anthony out of a heated discussion about why refrigerators weren't a controlled magical item.
"Eh? Yes."
"Splendid," Mrs. Dolan said. "Because—hic—I am very dissatisfied with last year's Muggle Studies results at Hogwarts."
"Last year's pass rate was quite high," Anthony said.
Mrs. Dolan waved a dismissive hand. "Ha, pass rates! Who cares about pass rates! I want to know—hic—why fewer students earned their Muggle Studies certificates than their Charms certificates?"
"Possibly… because Charms is a core subject, and Muggle Studies is an elective?"
Mrs. Dolan's voice shot up an octave. "Exactly! That's the problem! Why is Muggle Studies an elective?! It should be the most important subject! As important as clean lavatories!"
Anthony chose his words carefully. "That seems… somewhat reasonable."
"Wrong! It's very reasonable! Clean—hic—lavatories are crucial! A lavatory is the most important thing in a school. Well, maybe not as important as a roof, but still very important. Think about it! What would a school be without lavatories? That's what a magical school without Muggle Studies would become!" Mrs. Dolan declared. "If you can get—hic—every Hogwarts fifth-year to earn a Muggle Studies certificate, I'll give you a thousand Galleons. What do you say?"
"Then, I believe I've already saved you a thousand Galleons in advance."
Mrs. Dolan seemed not to hear him at all. "Excellent! It's settled then. Until next time, Henry."
"Goodbye."
"Charity, hey, Charity, my dear! Listen up, if you can get every Hogwarts student—hic—to earn a Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.—"
Anthony watched Mrs. Dolan stride purposefully towards Professor Burbage, the feather on her hat bobbing as she disappeared into the crowd. He turned and grabbed another slice of cake.
Every dish at the banquet was impeccable. Mrs. Dolan's taste in food was surprisingly excellent. Especially the blueberry cake Professor Burbage had recommended—it could make even the fussiest tongue melt in its sweet-and-sour, delicate mousse. Under such circumstances, whatever Mrs. Dolan's views on Muggle Studies at Hogwarts might be, Anthony was happy to treat them as amusing background noise.
If he could have gotten the roast chicken wings they'd missed ("My joy for the week is halved," Woodchuck had lamented), Anthony suspected he wouldn't have minded sitting next to Umbridge.
When he mentioned this, Professor Burbage laughed. "But I'm afraid dear Dolores would mind. She loathes Muggles."
Anthony's gaze shifted from the paper bag of sweets to her face. "What?"
They were walking back to Hogwarts. The sky was completely dark now, the air carrying the scent of damp earth after the rain. An intermittent evening breeze was just strong enough to sway the branches slightly, shaking water droplets from the leaves.
The Portkey only delivered them near Hogsmeade. The rest of the journey was on foot. Just before Honeydukes closed, Anthony had pushed the door open and grabbed handfuls of the "Season's Bestsellers." For seven Galleons and eleven Sickles, he'd gotten three or four Liquorice Wands, a small bag of Raspberry-Flavoured Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a few Chocolate Balls packed with Fizzing Whizzbees, and a "Bug Bonanza Party Pack" containing Fudge Flies, Sucking Spider Legs, and Jelly Slugs. Even now, Anthony didn't understand why wizards were so keen on making sweets into shapes no child should be encouraged to eat.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed," Professor Burbage said. "It's hardly a secret. She's probably the most Muggle-hating person you'll find in this world—no, she's not a Death Eater. Before he was transferred out of London, Mad-Eye checked her background a hundred times."
"I thought she just liked making everyone miserable. Hmm, Mad-Eye…" He remembered hearing the name. "He's an Auror, right?"
"Yes. One of the best," Professor Burbage said. "Alastor Moody. A master at catching dark wizards. People who don't like him sometimes call him 'the Hound.' Umbridge despises him, so she seized the first chance to convince the Minister to have him transferred far away. To be honest, he can be a bit frightening at times, but he also makes people feel very safe. If he'd been here then, he certainly wouldn't have thrown you into Azkaban like those second-rate Aurors did."
"Uh…"
Professor Burbage seemed to misinterpret Anthony's expression. "Yes, I know you might have privately studied some… dark magic. But that's not the point. If a wizard hasn't received a proper magical education, it can indeed be difficult for them to distinguish between dark magic and a simple jinx."
Well, if the Ministry had sent a top-tier Auror to deal with Anthony… If that Auror knew a wizard had taught himself Necromancy without any formal education… If he knew someone had broken out of Azkaban… If he knew Anthony had even used Necromancy at Hogwarts… If he knew Anthony had disrupted the plan to capture Voldemort, allowing him to escape the trap… If he knew Anthony had returned to Azkaban, terrified the Dementors there, and incidentally sent a soul that was supposed to be imprisoned for life straight to its death…
Anthony decided he would avoid meeting this Mr. Moody at all costs.
"Besides, studying dark magic and becoming a dark wizard are two different things—there's always been some disagreement within the Auror Office on that point, but that's not important. What's important is that Albus vouched for you. And he said he believed you'd be a good Muggle Studies professor." Professor Burbage smiled at Anthony. "I think he was right."
Anthony couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you, Charity."
"You're welcome," Professor Burbage said. "As long as you take over the sixth and seventh years as soon as possible. Mrs. Dolan is very impressed with you—wonderful—I'm sure you'll manage to get everyone their Muggle Studies certificates."
Anthony said, "I'm sure I'll manage to become a mermaid."
"What?"
Anthony shot back, "Which do you think is more likely, Charity?"
Professor Burbage laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night, startling a few birds from a bush. They flapped their wings and settled on a higher branch. Passing the oak tree and rounding a few bends, they could see the towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, its countless windows glowing with light.
…
Dinner at Hogwarts had long since ended. Only a few scattered students hurried through the halls, moving from one corridor to another staircase. After saying goodbye to Professor Burbage, Anthony went to his office to fetch the student list and sent it off via the Owlery. He had just descended the stairs back into the corridor when he heard footsteps. Three figures rounded the corner ahead of him.
"I'm starving," Ron said. "Good thing Sirius packed you so many snacks, Harry."
"You shouldn't make snacks your dinner," Hermione said suspiciously. "Haven't you eaten? Where have you been?"
"We went to see Hagrid," Harry said.
Ron added, "You know, he's been all mysterious lately… Speaking of which, where did you go, Hermione? We wanted to ask you to come along."
"Oh, is he alright?" Hermione avoided Ron's question. "I hope he's preparing properly for his Chimaera Husbandry Qualification Exam. Is he studying?"
"Um… well…" Harry said slowly.
"Forget the exam, Hermione!" Ron lowered his voice. "Do you know what he's doing? He's building a zoo! Him, Professor Flitwick, and that Care of Magical Creatures professor… what's his name again?"
"Professor Kettleburn," Anthony said.
All three of them spun around to look at him.
"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I promise," Anthony said, catching up to them. "Hagrid told you about the zoo?"
Ron hesitated for a moment before apparently deciding he could be trusted.
"He even gave us a tour," Ron said. "Hermione, you have to come next time. I've never seen so many magical creatures living together in my life. Professor Kettleburn has a whole pack of Crups that follow you around the zoo; there's a creature called a Puffskein you have to look really closely to find; and there's this horse Harry and I couldn't see that Hagrid keeps—"
"We saw this really weird frog-thing that killed a bunch of crows," Harry said. "Oh, and those creatures that are half-bird, half-horse—they were sleeping when we were there—"
"And the Kelpie! We saw it chasing a—what was that thing called again, Harry?"
"I don't remember either," Harry said. "But Ron's right, Hermione, you really should see it."
"Hmm… I've never been that keen on zoos," Hermione said. "My parents took me a few times, but they quickly realized I preferred libraries and bookshops."
"My aunt and uncle took my cousin and me to a regular zoo once—it's nothing like what Hagrid's building," Harry said. "If you'd seen it today… Where did you go, Hermione? We asked Neville and Dean, but they hadn't seen you. Parvati and Lavender were gone too."
"I have my own things to do, of course!" Hermione said stiffly, though her cheeks flushed. "We were at a club meeting…"
"Huh? What club?" Ron said, confused. "The Long-Finned Tuna Club's meeting ended ages ago."
Hermione mumbled, "Just… a club…"
"You didn't go to that Lockhart club again, did you, Hermione?" Ron exclaimed.
"What if I did?" Hermione said crossly.
"Sounds nice," Anthony said. "Did you have a good time today, Miss Granger?"
"Oh, it was alright. And of course, I did have dinner. Roast beef and mashed potatoes. Treacle tart for dessert. Delicious." She glared at Harry and Ron. Harry shrugged at her. "But we didn't get to hear Professor Lockhart tell one of his adventure stories. He was supposed to tell us what kind of tents and sleeping bags to pack for adventures in different places, but he got interrupted—"
"Thank Merlin," Ron muttered.
Hermione shot him a furious look, but before she could say anything, they all heard voices coming from up ahead.
"You're too kind, Minerva," a voice was saying. "We're all quite familiar with Hogwarts, aren't we, Bozo? You really needn't see us out. I'm sure Gilderoy would have loved to chat a while longer… It was a wonderful conversation. I'm sure I can write a lovely piece—really, I already have several captivating openings, just need to choose between them—"
"It is nearly curfew," Professor McGonagall's voice cut in, icy.
A moment later, Anthony saw the speakers. Rita Skeeter, clad in an orange-yellow robe with matching bright yellow nail polish, rounded the corner from the other end of the corridor. A photographer lugging a large camera trailed behind her. Professor McGonagall walked stiffly beside them, her face a mask of tight disapproval.
"Curfew! We're not students anymore, are we, Bozo? Though we still care deeply for Hogwarts, Minerva. The ancient castle… so hard to get back in once you've graduated… It's very fortunate to become a professor, but what sort of person does become one, beyond just being fortunate… Would you like to tell me what you think of Gilderoy—oh, Harry!"
Rita's eyes lit up the moment she spotted Harry at the other end of the corridor. A Quick-Quotes Quill zoomed into her hand at an astonishing speed.
"Harry," she said, beaming. "My, what a surprise. Do you have a moment for a quick chat? How are you enjoying life at Hogwarts?"
Professor McGonagall said sharply, "I'm afraid today's interview quota has been fulfilled. What are you still doing here, Mr. Potter? Are you unaware that curfew is approaching?"
"Just a few words—quickly, Bozo, get the camera—Harry, don't worry, it won't take a moment—"
Harry frowned in distaste. "No, thanks." He tried to step around Rita, but she deftly blocked his path.
"Looking to cook up more lies about Harry?" Hermione said loudly. "Wasn't the rubbish you wrote about Professor Lockhart enough for you? You don't care what's true and what's false, as long as it gets attention and people talking!"
Rita turned her gaze to Hermione, looking her up and down.
"Oh, it's you," she said coldly. "Let me tell you what's true. The truth is you have no idea what you're talking about. You just think you sound clever. Now then, Harry—" Her smile snapped back into place. "Tell me about life at Hogwarts. Bozo!"
She pulled Harry in front of the camera. The portly photographer had already raised the bulky device.
"Unhand him!" Professor McGonagall barked, striding forward and yanking Harry to her side. Rita nearly stumbled from the force.
Ron and Hermione hurried over too.
"You were only authorized to interview Professor Lockhart! I will not have you harassing my students!" Professor McGonagall declared.
Chaos. A click. Black smoke billowed. Anthony reached out and slapped his hand over the camera lens.
"This film might still be salvageable," he said to the startled photographer behind the camera. "I think I covered it pretty thoroughly."
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