Bab 153: Salamander, Dragon Egg and Mrs. Parkinson
While the salamanders happily hopped around in the fireplace, Anthony asked Professor Kettleburn for advice on how to raise salamanders in the office without turning the room into an oven.
"It's just a variation of the Warming Charm, Professor Anthony. You need to learn some tips on firewood selection," Kettleburn explained, before Anthony, feigning curiosity, inquired about how high the maximum flame temperature could reach.
He noticed Snape glancing at him and the old professor in the rocking chair several times, as if he wanted to comment on topics like flame temperature control. But Flint was hesitantly talking about potentially playing Quidditch, then mentioned that many pure-blood families had extended offers to him, and perhaps he would accept one of them. Snape, meanwhile, just listened with a stern expression.
Professor Kettleburn eagerly demonstrated his fire-lighting tricks and invited Anthony to try. Tentatively, Anthony lit a fire, and Kettleburn used a fire poker to poke at the salamander in the fireplace before casually tossing it into Anthony's fire.
"A little colder... yes, that's good," the old professor squinted at the salamander in the flames, which was rapidly changing color. "Wait, it's too hot! Too hot!"
As soon as he spoke, another salamander jumped out of the flames. Anthony quickly reduced the heat, concerned that a whole nest of salamanders would soon populate the professor's fireplace.
Kettleburn picked up the second salamander and examined it. "It's fine. Severus, do you need it?"
Snape turned his head, appraising the salamander briefly before saying, "It's too small. There's better quality salamander blood in Diagon Alley."
"Alright," Kettleburn replied, tossing the salamander into a jar, stuffing a flame in with it, and handing it to Anthony without explanation. "It's yours."
Anthony hesitated but accepted the warm jar, inside of which the small salamander clung to the wall, staring blankly outside.
Though Professor Kettleburn seemed to have more to say, Anthony felt it was time to leave when Snape finished the career consultation. It was nearing dinnertime, and students were already spilling out of classrooms. He could hear the sphinx by the door asking passing students if they wanted to try a riddle, but they all politely declined.
Before departing, Anthony made sure to leave his coat—just in case Mr. Flint, with his average D in Charms, forgot how to pronounce "Reparo." Even though Snape thought Flint was as strong as a bull and as burly as an orangutan, he still couldn't recall how to cast "Scourgify." Anthony placed the robe next to the barrel just in case.
He left Professor Kettleburn's office alongside Snape, carrying a large bundle of dead branches and leaves along with the salamander in his bag. Snape was headed to dinner in the Great Hall, while Anthony made his way to Hagrid's cabin to give him a quick lesson on fire-starting.
Afterward, they might enjoy a meal of hunter's chicken stew—Kettleburn had provided some rosemary leaves, and Hagrid had quite a few chickens. Anthony had seen the rest of the necessary side dishes in Hagrid's cupboard, enough to have a nice meal and perhaps share a few drinks.
...
"How have you been, Professor Snape?" Anthony asked, breaking the silence.
Snape glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, clearly uninterested in engaging. He didn't bother answering. The two walked in silence for a while, attracting glances from students, who whispered among themselves. Anthony overheard one saying in surprise, "Snape actually asked Anthony to help him carry firewood!"
Anthony was sure Snape heard it too, because the corners of Snape's mouth twisted, as if he were debating whether to belittle the student's intelligence, take away house points, or both.
In the end, Snape chose to mock Anthony: "Professor Anthony, it seems your students think you're a house-elf."
Anthony responded calmly, "I suppose they're just concerned for me, walking with a vampire. No need to hold it against them, Professor Snape."
It seemed Snape was about to make a remark about Anthony's dangerous identity as a necromancer, but just then, an owl swooped in through the window, flying over the heads of the students, and landed on Snape's shoulder, drawing curious looks. Snape's expression soured further. He quickly untied the letter from the owl's leg, glanced at it, and stuffed it into his pocket.
The owl circled him expectantly, but when no owl treats were forthcoming, it perched irritably on an empty torch holder, eyeing Anthony with its large, round eyes.
"All I've got are corn kernels and nuts," Anthony said.
The owl hooted indignantly, but Snape waved it away, his brows furrowing deeply, his face dark as a thundercloud.
Anthony asked, "What's wrong?"
Without a word, Snape strode toward the stairs and descended rapidly. Perhaps something had gone wrong in the dungeons. Maybe the letter was informing him that his entire stock of demulcents had been stolen.
Anthony shrugged and didn't follow.
…
Thanks to Professor Kettleburn's advice, Anthony no longer had to worry about Hagrid fainting from the heat. Hagrid's future dragon was now safely housed in a large copper kettle with a leaky bottom that rattled when shaken. Occasionally, the firelight would flicker through the holes at the bottom of the pot, casting strange, glowing patterns like a makeshift lantern.
Hagrid beamed with pride as he set the copper kettle on the table, frequently opening the lid to peek inside. The window was finally open, and Fang stuck his head through it, wagging his tail eagerly. Though he tried to lick Hagrid's face, all he could manage was a nudge to Hagrid's waist. The heat had been unbearable, so Fang had been chained outside for days, serving as Hagrid's watch dog to deter anyone from venturing into the Forbidden Forest.
"Now, where's my teapot warmer?" Hagrid mumbled, standing up to search for something suitable to cover his "little baby." He frowned at the tea stains on the thick, patchwork cozy and decided he'd knit a new one himself out of wool.
Anthony said, "There's nothing wrong with letting him learn to drink tea from an early age."
"No, Henry," Hagrid replied, shaking his head. "You're better than me in most things, but when it comes to raising dragons, you're not as good as me. You shouldn't feed a fire dragon tea."
"What will happen?" Anthony asked curiously.
Hagrid said seriously, "The fire it breathes will smell like burnt tea stems and could clog its nostrils. That'll make most dragons feel inferior!"
"Okay, that sounds serious," Anthony said, stifling a laugh. "Dragon mental health and all that."
...
Hagrid was delighted to have the salamander in the jar, but his full attention was on the dragon egg, which demanded all his focus. He placed the jar on the fireplace and stared at it admiringly for a while.
"It can grow quite big," he said. "When it hatches, those two little guys will be perfect companions."
He explained to Anthony that salamanders were practical magical creatures. Just place them in a flame, and that fire will be hard to extinguish. Many restaurants even kept salamanders in their stoves, letting them crawl around to maintain a steady simmer.
Together, they simmered a pot of hunter's chicken stew in the salamander's fire and shared a few cups of what would be future rations for Hagrid's dragon.
...
When Anthony returned to the castle, it was already dark. The dark blue sky pressed against the mountains in the distance, and the layered woods appeared as black silhouettes. The sound of the giant squid splashing in the lake echoed from the other side. Some students had gathered on the shore, chatting and laughing as they tossed bits of bread to feed the squid.
On his way back to the office, Anthony overheard a conversation between two younger students and quickly realized why Snape had left so abruptly earlier.
"Mrs. Parkinson came to school."
"I heard she gave Pansy a really hard time," one girl said. "Like, she did something super embarrassing. I hope it was swearing."
Her friend chimed in, "But Pansy's fine. I mean, if you ignore the fact that she's always hanging around Malfoy and looking down her nose at people, she's tolerable."
"I don't like the way she talks," the first girl replied. "You know, all that 'Mudblood this, pureblood that' nonsense. Makes me want to roll my eyes."
"But you wouldn't want to hex her," another student said. "Look at Malfoy. If the whole 'We Pureblood' club went to Azkaban, Pansy would probably be the last one standing."
...
By the time Anthony reached his office on the second floor, he felt like he already knew more than half the story from the students' gossip. Even though most of the students were having dinner in the Great Hall, news like this always spread at lightning speed through Hogwarts. In just a few hours, it could blow from the dungeons to Ravenclaw Tower, then to Gryffindor Tower, and eventually even reach the Owlery.
It sounds like Mrs. Parkinson exchanged letters with a certain—or certain—school governor and his wife, and then appeared in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts one fine afternoon. Meanwhile, Anthony was discussing with Professor Kettleburn the rosemary in the firewood, and whether a little bay leaf and cinnamon should also be added. After the afternoon conversation, Mrs. Parkinson clearly did not receive a satisfactory answer from the Headmaster, so she waited outside the Head of Slytherin's office for a while.
According to student reports, she spent most of her time standing there like a statue, with only Draco Malfoy receiving a cordial greeting and Blaise Zabini getting a nod. However, the Head of Slytherin was clearly busy, so Mrs. Parkinson summoned an owl—the students weren't even sure how she did it—and delivered a neatly written, long letter to the esteemed Professor Snape (so said the students who saw her writing in the hallway).
From another group of students' accounts, an owl had been trying to get close to Professor Kettleburn's window that afternoon, but was driven away by something inside. Anthony suspected this might have something to do with Professor Kettleburn's past experience: he once helped a beleaguered botanical garden avoid harassment from the Ministry of Magic's letters.
At this point, the stories become confusing.
In some versions, Snape appeared in the corridor, had a pleasant conversation with Mrs. Parkinson (with some suggestive, gossipy glances involved), and told her that her daughter hadn't done well in Potions. Although Pansy was only in her first year, he could already predict she wouldn't achieve her O.W.L. in Potions.
In this version, Mrs. Parkinson comes across as a larger version of Pansy, and Snape acts like a larger version of Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Parkinson told Snape in a sweet voice that she trusted his teaching 100%, and that there was no issue with how he was instructing. Then she called her daughter over and scolded her sharply.
In other versions, the story is entirely different. Pansy arrived before Snape did and threw herself into her mother's arms, squealing. Her mother treated her like a puppy that had been out playing in the mud. She was angry, helpless, and full of contempt for her daughter's intelligence, only speaking to Snape once he arrived, paying no attention to Pansy's shouting.
In this version, the conversation between Mrs. Parkinson and Snape is described as "chilling." Pansy had told her mother that she'd lied, and Mrs. Parkinson said she believed Pansy was lying now. Snape sarcastically asked if they needed to bring in the Divination or Arithmancy professor to help with their family trust issues.
"Lied about what?" students asked.
"It sounds like it's about whether Pansy was injured playing Quidditch," said one student. "Does that even need asking? Of course not, unless a Bludger flew into her dormitory in the middle of the night and broke her nose."
A meaner student added, "Maybe her nose would look better if it was smashed."
…
While rumors swirled around the school, Anthony had already learned the specifics—though the source of the story was somewhat surprising: Madam Pomfrey.
Tracey Davis had visited the hospital wing late at night and asked if there was any special medicine available. Under Madam Pomfrey's questioning, Tracey recounted what had happened that afternoon.
As soon as Mrs. Parkinson had sent the owl away, Pansy, who had been playing with the owl in the shed, knew her mother was coming. She rushed to the Slytherin common room and confessed to her mother that she had made everything up in her letter, claiming she was simply homesick and wanted to see her family.
Her mother immediately picked up on her nervous tone and pointed out that Pansy had a habit of pinching her hands whenever she lied. When Snape arrived, Mrs. Parkinson ignored Pansy entirely, instead asking Snape about Tracey Davis and whether he had noticed that the noble Parkinson family was doing its part for Slytherin but wasn't receiving the respect they deserved.
Throughout this, Pansy insisted that she wasn't injured and wasn't under any threat. She explained that she had only written about Tracey because it seemed like a reasonable name to use. She even detailed how long she had spent concocting the name, her voice trembling as she spoke.
Pansy was too nervous to notice that Tracey was standing nearby, waiting for Mrs. Parkinson's questioning. However, despite her tears and frustration, Pansy refused to admit that Tracey had poured the bottle of pus. Mrs. Parkinson, clearly exasperated with her daughter, complained that it was "very annoying to have such a child." Pansy, humiliated, ran back to her dormitory in tears.
"She misspoke," Tracey told Madam Pomfrey. "She told her mother that yes, Davis was a bastard, but he was still human."
"I don't think she meant to say it that way," Madam Pomfrey told Anthony. "I know how children can be. When they're angry, they say all sorts of things, throwing cups against the wall. But this time, the cup hit Mrs. Parkinson."
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone