Capítulo 145: Dumbledore’s attitude and Quirrell’s lack of reply
After Madam Pomfrey had driven the shouting Pansy out, Roger finally fell asleep under the effects of the potion, though his brow remained furrowed, partly from the pain and partly from worry.
Anthony had assured him that Tracey wouldn't be expelled—joking that if Malfoy hadn't been expelled, Tracey wouldn't be either—but Roger was still concerned about his sister. In the end, Anthony had to shove a Chocolate Frog into Roger's mouth (Madam Pomfrey had confirmed chocolate wouldn't weaken the potion and had even checked its expiration date) to stop his anxious chatter.
"Let the professors handle this," Anthony said. "Even Mr. Filch can't decide if a student will be expelled. Your job is to take care of yourself. As far as I know, Headmaster Dumbledore has never expelled a student."
Roger, chewing on the chocolate, mumbled, "But the Parkinson family is a pure-blood family."
Anthony replied, "And this is Hogwarts."
…
Despite his reassurance, Anthony still went straight to the Headmaster's office after leaving the hospital wing. Standing on the spiral staircase, he was surprised to find the door to the office slightly ajar. Faint voices floated out—Dumbledore was already speaking with someone.
"Of course, this is a good idea," Dumbledore's cheerful voice drifted through the door. "Although it may be a bit of an overestimation, I hope people will welcome me... at least not throw rotten tomatoes at my head. They'd stand out more on white hair than on red, I imagine."
Anthony knocked on the door.
"Come in, Henry," Dumbledore called, as though he already knew who was at the door.
Anthony entered. The familiar buzzing instruments and Fawkes, the bright-eyed phoenix perched nearby, greeted him, but there was also a boy with messy hair standing at the other end of Dumbledore's desk. The boy looked at him with both confusion and surprise. A tattered wizard's hat sat on a shelf behind the desk—Anthony had never noticed it there before.
"What news have you brought me, Henry?" Dumbledore asked, observing Anthony's expression. "Ah, not news you'd prefer, I imagine." He raised a hand to signal Anthony not to speak just yet. "But—let's take things one step at a time. Do you have any thoughts on opening a call for expressions of interest in our courses, Henry?"
"What's a call for expressions of interest?" Anthony asked.
"A course call for expressions of interest," Dumbledore repeated patiently. "It's something I mentioned this morning—though, selfishly, I must admit it didn't seem to work. Professor Anthony doesn't even know what I'm talking about." His last words were aimed at the boy, who chuckled.
"There's a notice on the bulletin board asking if we'd like to offer another course at Hogwarts," the boy, who Anthony realized was Harry Potter, explained. "Something like 'Non-Human Languages Course,' or something like that. I can't remember exactly."
Anthony asked, "And are you going to teach Parseltongue, Professor Potter?"
"No, no," Dumbledore interjected with a smile, amused by Anthony's raised eyebrows. "It's me. I'll be teaching Mermish. Considering we live beside the Black Lake, I believe it has some practical value."
Anthony asked, surprised, "There are merpeople in the Black Lake?" He had never seen any during his walks.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "But I must warn you, Henry, they may not be quite what you expect."
Anthony swore Dumbledore had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he spoke. Professor McGonagall must have told him the story of the unicorn incident.
"What do you think, Henry?" Dumbledore asked. "What do you see for the future of this course?"
Anthony shrugged. "I'm not sure, well, will it be added to the O.W.L.s exam?"
"Good question. I don't think so—it would be difficult to find an examiner fluent in Mermish. I know those who speak it, and they're usually too lazy to take on such tasks," Dumbledore mused. "But you have a point. Rather than making it a full course, perhaps we could turn it into a club. I have an old friend who's quite good at starting clubs—he might be willing to lend a hand."
Anthony smiled. "No exams but taught by Dumbledore himself? In that case, I suggest you find a larger classroom, Professor."
Harry nodded enthusiastically. "A big, big classroom."
"Oh, don't worry about that," Dumbledore said casually. "Any other concerns?"
...
After Harry left, Anthony suddenly remembered something. "Does this mean you'll be at Hogwarts more often, sir?"
"If you consider being here for an hour or two a week as regular, then yes, Henry," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eye. "But that would mean I'm already here regularly."
Anthony couldn't help but offer a slight complaint. "Not when I'm looking for you."
Dumbledore smiled. "At Hogwarts, those who ask for help will always receive it," he said, his tone meaningful. "I think you'll find I'm always there when you truly need me."
Anthony shook his head, not wanting to linger on the point. "Sir, the reason I came to see you is that there's been another incident in Slytherin, another accident."
Dumbledore's expression grew serious.
"It's not as severe as the Malfoy and Longbottom situation," Anthony explained. "It's of a different nature, but it comes from within Slytherin House. Miss Davis poured a bottle of Bubotuber pus on Miss Parkinson's face and neck—whether it was meant as a threat, deterrent, or retaliation, I don't know."
"How did you handle it, Henry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"I sent Miss Parkinson to Madam Pomfrey—her injuries shouldn't be a concern. Roger Davis apologized to Parkinson for his sister's actions, and Parkinson also apologized to Roger for her custom-made Slytherin banner," Anthony replied.
Dumbledore's expression did not relax. In fact, behind his crescent-shaped glasses, his gentle blue eyes seemed even more concerned.
"So, how can I assist with this matter?" Dumbledore asked.
"Parkinson mentioned that she had written home, and Mr. Davis seemed very worried about the news, even though I assured him that Miss Davis wouldn't be expelled," Anthony explained. "I just thought you should know about this sooner rather than later."
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, thank you very much for informing me, Henry. I will be prepared. And rest assured, Miss Davis will not be expelled—not while I am Headmaster." He gave Anthony a reassuring smile. "I've always believed that no child should ever be given up on, especially not a student like Miss Davis."
Anthony hesitated. "'Any' is a very absolute word... I'm not trying to contradict you, sir, but I imagine you'll face a lot of resistance."
"Likely more than you can imagine, Henry," Dumbledore said quietly, "but people soon find that I'm quite a stubborn old madman to deal with."
...
"Besides this issue, is there anything else you want to discuss?" Dumbledore asked, smiling. "Since you've mentioned I'm often absent when you need me?"
Anthony thought for a moment. "There is one more thing I'd like to ask about."
"What is it, Henry?" Dumbledore asked encouragingly.
"I'm not sure if it's a result of bias or just the nature of the House, but Slytherin seems, a little out of place," Anthony said, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, I know they're very active in competitions like the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup, but they don't seem to have much non-confrontational interaction with the other Houses."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that's not just your imagination, Henry. It stems from certain issues in the history of magic." He looked at Anthony, sensing more hesitation. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Anthony hesitated again, then said, "Well... perhaps we could start by having someone as Head of House who encourages more non-confrontational conversations with others?"
Faced with the new professor's (hired through questionable connections) questions about personnel matters, Dumbledore appeared particularly cheerful.
"I understand what you mean, Henry," he said brightly. "And I must say, your criticism of Severus is valid. But appointing a Head of House is not so simple, even for a Headmaster. Especially in a house like Slytherin. Power shouldn't be arbitrary—did you know Hogwarts has a Board of Governors?"
"I didn't know," Anthony admitted.
"In addition to the tradition that the Head of House is always a graduate of the house if I were to appoint, say, Minerva, assuming she somehow became a Slytherin graduate, as Head of Slytherin, Henry, you'd see in tomorrow's Daily Prophet that the Board had dismissed the Headmaster of Hogwarts and declared—let's assume—Severus as the new Headmaster."
"But you are a difficult old madman to deal with," Anthony smiled.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, yes. Don't remind me of that, Henry. Don't tempt me."
Fawkes ruffled his wings and let out a soft trill.
...
After leaving the Headmaster's office, it was already dinnertime. Anthony waited outside the castle for a while, but no owl—especially one that disliked his cat—delivered Professor Quirrell's reply. He looked towards the Forbidden Forest, where the wind stirred the leaves, making them ripple like the waves on the Black Lake. Determined, Anthony decided to find Quirrell himself.
If it weren't for the rumors about a conflict between Quirrell and Snape at the dinner table, Anthony might have fully believed that Quirrell had come to Hogwarts with ill intent.
"Severus looked terrible," Professor Sprout told him. "They say Quirinus fainted during class, and Severus offered to take over, but Quirinus woke up quickly. He returned to the classroom just as Severus was deducting points, and Quirinus apparently objected, saying he didn't think Mr. Potter deserved such harsh treatment." Hearing that Harry had been present during the lesson, Anthony thought Snape's point deduction couldn't have been a coincidence. "...Quirinus then awarded points to Gryffindor for Harry's responses."
Professor Burbage exclaimed in disbelief, "What, he really did that?"
"I know," Professor Sprout replied as she served herself some mashed potatoes. "But that's what all the students are saying. They seem to think Quirinus is a fair professor." She added with a bemused smile, "From the way the Gryffindors talk, you'd think they were describing Minerva or Albus."
"That's not easy to achieve," Professor Burbage remarked. "When Quirinus was teaching Muggle Studies, there weren't any complaints about him. But when I took over and changed the textbooks, there were quite a few objections."
Professor Sprout sighed. "Poor fellow. If he hadn't been so frightened by vampires, I think he would have done even better. I remember him in Ravenclaw, always so studious and steady. A quiet, diligent student. Even when he first became a professor, he was much more nervous than you two were." She smiled at Anthony and Burbage. "But he handled it well."
Professor Burbage raised an eyebrow as she sliced into her steak. "Pomona, I've spoken to you about the Muggle Studies textbook and the O.W.L.s pass rate, haven't I? You know why I came here."
"I meant that he took his teaching seriously," Professor Sprout explained. She was a forgiving professor, valuing a good attitude and willing to overlook flaws that needed improvement.
Professor Burbage nodded. "Well, I suppose he does like Hogwarts."
For a moment, Anthony wasn't sure if he had misjudged Professor Quirrell. Quirrell had been teaching Muggle Studies for years—longer than Anthony—and had never harmed a unicorn. If—even if—Quirrell had harmed a unicorn this time, could it be that he was hiding something? Could there be a secret behind this?
In the depths of his mind, a small, malicious voice whispered slyly: "It's because of your cat. Your cat scratched him, and the wound was too severe. If he hadn't been hurt so badly, do you think he would have dared touch a unicorn? And here you are, preparing to righteously question him. Was it not your own selfishness that brought a dangerous and illegal magical pet to Hogwarts?"
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