Chapter 124: The Staff Lounge and Strange Dreams
Professor Flitwick soon caught wind of a rumor that a genius in his house had managed to levitate a small cake without using a wand.
"It's unbelievable!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "It's just Filch, but none of them even suspected Professor Anthony!"
Professor Sprout, amused, remarked, "To be fair, Filius, you have to consider the image Henry has in the minds of the students."
So far, it seemed that her house had been the least affected by Anthony's occasional whims. Her students were among the least interested in exploring absurd notions like "The possibility of using fried sausages as wands." To them, sausages were sausages, and wands were wands. If Ollivanders ever started selling sausages, then perhaps they'd reconsider.
"Of course, a twenty-seven-year-old Muggle Studies professor who hasn't learned to Apparate," Anthony added with a wry smile. "Thank you, Pomona."
Professor Burbage laughed and handed Anthony a fistful of iced mouse candies, cleverly steering the conversation in a new direction. "It seems that when we're not around, you're not too concerned about school rules."
"What, there are school rules?" Anthony feigned surprise. "I thought the professors just made them up on the fly."
While having afternoon tea at Hagrid's cabin, the youngest Weasley had tried to confirm with Anthony whether there was a rule prohibiting taking library books out of the castle.
After confirming that the book in question was merely a public-area Quidditch book, library regular Anthony told him that absolutely, the rule stood ("Just think about it—what would Hagrid do if he couldn't borrow books from the library?"), and was rewarded with a tale of how a professor had once confiscated books on the eve of a Quidditch match and docked five points from a house.
Initially, Hermione had tried to conceal the identity of the point-deducting parties, but Harry Potter's expression had already given away half the story, and when Ron blurted out, "Those Slytherins just love playing dirty tricks," the identity of the other party was fully revealed.
"Some rules were indeed made up on the spot," Professor Flitwick mused. "I remember the last Head of Ravenclaw forbidding anyone to put a shoe on their head unless they called it a hat."
Professor Burbage looked puzzled. "What?"
"You should be able to find it in the library archives," Professor Flitwick said. "The Board of Governors even approved it."
Anthony, his teeth chattering from the iced mouse candy, shrugged. "Why not? I can't see any reason against it, other than the possible waste of ink."
…
Professor Sprout, her tone more serious, asked about the dead unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. "What happened to that poor creature, Henry?"
"I don't know," Anthony admitted. "I'm just as confused as you are."
For Anthony, trusting the entire school wasn't difficult, but if he had to suspect someone of killing the unicorn, he'd rather prioritize his colleagues over the students.
Of course, strength played a role, but on the other hand, he couldn't help but feel that if the murderer was willing to bear the curse of the unicorn just to scrub toilets under Filch's supervision, even in the wizarding world, the situation seemed absurd.
After hearing that a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest had been killed by something unknown, leaving two little unicorns behind, Professor Burbage shook her head and said, "There are too many strange things in the Forbidden Forest. Nothing surprises me anymore."
Professor Flitwick then explained to her what unicorn blood could do: "Extension of life, unconditional extension of life. The price? The curse of the unicorn—a half-dead existence," he said, raising his voice. "Greed, Professor Anthony. This must have been done by an intelligent creature!"
"I agree," Anthony said, "but that only makes it more unsettling."
Professor Sprout nodded grimly. "This is murder." She held her cup, counting the days. "Oh my, I was supposed to go to the Forbidden Forest to pick herbs that day, but I ended up delivering fresh vegetables to Quirinus instead." She added more milk to her tea, her expression stern, as if angry at herself. Even when Anthony mentioned his plans to take students to visit the botanical garden she had recommended, she barely reacted.
…
Perhaps because the trace of undead magic on the unicorn's body was too familiar, Anthony didn't have his usual recurring nightmare that night. Instead, he had a very strange dream.
He and Hagrid encountered a winged unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid shouted, "You don't belong in the Forbidden Forest!" The unicorn flapped its wings to fly away, but it was carrying a supermarket shopping bag containing Professor Trelawney, Snape, and Filch.
Anthony, dressed in a cashier's uniform, chased after it, shouting, "Sir, wait a minute, you didn't get your change!" Then he pulled the skeleton cat from his pocket and threw it at the unicorn. The cat swiped its claws, and the unicorn fell to the ground, silver-white blood spilling everywhere.
Professor Trelawney burst out of the shopping bag, kicking and screaming about blood and doom, her lower body that of a gray donkey. Filch rattled off a list of school rules Anthony had broken and charitably offered that all he had to do was clean Myrtle's bathroom. Snape, with a smug expression, remarked that the unicorn's body contained valuable potion ingredients. He picked up a silver knife meant for potion preparation and made to cut the unicorn's corpse.
But as the knife fell, the unicorn's body transformed into Professor Quirrell, and Snape's silver blade struck him instead. The trees of the Forbidden Forest turned into a crowd of students who surrounded Anthony, their voices merging like a choir to describe how Snape had scratched Quirrell's face in his pursuit of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
Anthony woke up to the deafening chorus of students. He stood up and looked around. The curtains were drawn properly, and the cat and mouse were curled up together, asleep in a ball on an old pillow provided by the house-elf. As he sat up, the pillow's tassels swayed slightly.
He sat on the bed for a while, then put on his coat and quietly walked out of his office. The castle was dark and deserted.
A portrait stirred and called out, "Who goes there?"
Anthony didn't answer, continuing to wander aimlessly through the castle under the Disillusionment Charm. From a window, he could see the crescent moon hanging low over the Forbidden Forest, a few stars dotting the sky. He stared at them for a while, but found no signs of fate.
"If this dream is trying to tell me something, it had better be clearer," Anthony muttered. "My third eye is tightly shut."
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