บท 160: Vacant Professorships, Canned Cats, Kale, and Stubborn Wraiths
"'Get Hogwarts in the right direction'..." Anthony read aloud. "Alright then." He speared a grilled mushroom with his fork, adding an extra sprinkle of black pepper.
Professor Burbage glanced over at Professor Sprout's newspaper and remarked, "This happens every year. I suppose that means you turned down our dear Minister, too, Henry?"
"He invited everyone?" Anthony asked, surprised.
"Probably," replied Professor Sprout, "but I imagine he only really got frustrated with Charity."
"As if he could actually keep me from joining the Muggle Affairs Conciliation Committee." Professor Charity Burbage, an expert in Muggle Studies with a rather long title, spread a thick layer of butter on her bread and took a decisive bite.
Professor Sprout said with a touch of worry, "I think he might actually manage it, Charity. He is the Minister, after all."
Professor Burbage replied lightly, "Then we'll just change the Minister." She laughed when she saw Professor Sprout's expression, but then choked and coughed, reaching for her pumpkin juice. "Just joking," she said, laughing again.
Since most students still had exams, they didn't seem to be enjoying Hogwarts' hearty breakfast as much as usual.
Students chatted in hushed tones, the buzz of conversation echoing through the hall. Many yawned as they shoveled bits of potato into their mouths with their eyes half-closed or absentmindedly stirred their porridge while muttering the key points of their coursework. Professor Burbage's sudden coughing fit startled a student who had been reading 'Parting Through the Fog to See the Future' at the breakfast table, stopping her just as she nearly put a strip of bacon up her nose.
"Who would you want as a replacement?" Anthony asked, "And... does the magical world have a red-versus-blue rivalry?"
"What? No, no," said Professor Burbage. "I was really joking. But if it had to be someone else, it would probably be Ms. Umbridge. Goodness, I can't imagine her as anything but Senior Deputy Minister."
"She could always become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts," Professor Flitwick, standing on his tiptoes to reach the marmalade jar, said with a chuckle. "There just happens to be a vacancy, and that would allow the Ministry to bring in all those 'much-needed reforms' or something like that."
"Oh, please, no," Professor Sprout interjected, handing the marmalade jar to Flitwick. "Minerva mentioned that we've reached out to several experienced Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, and they've shown genuine interest in the role. I heard Albus even contacted the headmaster at Ilvermorny, hoping to find someone from there."
"That does sound promising," Professor Burbage said thoughtfully. "By the way, has the Philosopher's Stone been removed from the school?"
"Yes, it has," replied Professor Flitwick, clinking his little silver spoon against his cup. "Only Albus knows where it's gone now."
"If I were Nicolas Flamel, I'd make fifty identical scrap stones," Professor Burbage mused, "then lock each one up in Gringotts with maximum security. That way, any would-be thief would have to face the goblins for a useless stone."
Professor Flitwick considered this. "It wouldn't be easy to forge the Philosopher's Stone, I imagine. One could tell it's fake as soon as they find it doesn't produce gold. Verifying the Elixir of Life, though...well, that would take some time—probably a lifetime."
---
After breakfast, Anthony returned to his office. He hadn't slept much the previous night, having finished grading all the exams, though he saved the score calculations for this morning.
Despite having prepared himself while grading, Anthony carefully reviewed the results to ensure he didn't mistake any "O" (Outstanding) for a "zero." The fourth-year pass rate was around 80 percent—pass, not distinction—while the third-year pass rate was at 86 percent, with a slightly smaller variance in individual scores for each year.
But as he recorded the results in his lesson plans, Anthony noticed an interesting trend: students who participated in practical activities had higher average scores.
Anthony carefully considered the results, confirming that he hadn't covered any extra material during the practical activities. As he had told the students, his purpose was simply to let them experience the Muggle world and learn how to interact with Muggles without startling them—in other words, to act naturally.
He flipped through each student's test paper, examining them one by one. The students who had received pocket money from him generally had a better grasp of the conversion between pennies and pounds, and those genuinely interested in adopting pets seemed more knowledgeable about Muggle gadgets.
One of the essays by Midgen stood out: "Muggles can fully utilize their inventions for cooking without magical assistance," she wrote. "Additionally, their stoves typically use gas, and their ovens usually run on electricity rather than wood. It's important to teach a cat not to climb into the oven or stand on the stove, and owners must ensure their pet is safe before using such appliances. Unattended stoves or ovens pose a danger to Muggles—and their cats."
She continued, explaining instant canning: "When Muggles need to store food for long periods or are looking for a quick, no-prep meal, they often turn to cans. Depending on the design, Muggle cans open in various ways, but those requiring a can opener are especially noteworthy. Their can openers are not the automatic ones we see in the magical kitchens but are manual."
After discussing instant canning, she noted, "Can lids need to be handled carefully as they can cause cuts. Tin-plated cans of pet food are also common, so families with cats often prepare a separate bowl for their pet and pour the food into it instead of letting it eat directly from the can." She added a small parenthetical question at the end, "(Professor Anthony, can Muggle cats eat magical cat food? Do magical cats also eat canned food? I've never heard of a cat with a cut tongue.)"
Other students, however, seemed to have spent too much time studying Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"The Muggle-Repelling Charm is a wizarding adaptation of the Confundus Charm. It is relatively mild and makes nearby Muggles feel they've forgotten something, prompting them to leave the area." A large ink blot here suggested the student had struggled to write more on Muggle-related topics.
Finally, the student followed with a short paragraph of argument: "I don't know if Muggles would find this spell really gentle. I wouldn't want someone adding unfinished tasks to my mind. Even if I actually had something to do, I wouldn't want to be suddenly reminded of it just because I went somewhere."
"And I don't understand—let's say a Muggle is in a crisis. How could he be running somewhere and then suddenly remember he needs to buy dinner for the day after tomorrow? It's not like he'd be thinking, 'I'm being chased by a wolf, and there's a castle ahead of me, but wait, I've got to go buy some kale first.'"
Anthony stared at the student's crossed-out "and" in the sentence. He could just make out that it originally said, "and the kale tastes really bad."
After a moment's hesitation, he changed the failing grade to a passing one. At least this student showed a strong sense of empathy for Muggles, and his questions were genuinely interesting.
Also, kale really doesn't taste good. If the question had been "List things you wouldn't serve a Muggle," Anthony might have given this answer full marks…at least in his mind, if not actually noted on the lesson plan.
…
Once he finished tallying the results, Anthony leaned back in his chair to rest. For him, the first school year of teaching officially ended at that moment. He raised the lesson plan, looking out at the sunshine streaming through the window for a while.
At the beginning of the school year, it had been a brand new notebook—neat, clean, and empty. Now, it was filled with his lesson preparation notes.
At the front was the course schedule. In the lesson preparation notes at the back, several pages recorded questions raised by students, and the pages that had been turned so frequently that the corners were a little worn contained knowledge points he'd compiled for the third and fourth years of Muggle Studies. There were notes from his discussions with Professor Burbage written messily, and tables filled with registered students' adoption intentions and various assessment results.
If he picked it up and shook it, letters from parents, various application forms, documents he had prepared, book lists from colleagues, notes from students, and Hagrid's dragon-care borrowing list would all likely tumble out. Anthony took out the borrowing list and placed it at the bottom of the drawer.
"I think I did a pretty good job as a professor," Anthony said to the cat. "Maybe not as good as I was as a cashier, but at least I gave it my best."
The cat looked at him haughtily, jumped onto the top platform of its climbing frame, and looked down at him. It had managed to pile a case of white wine there. Anthony always felt that one day he'd be hit on the head by twelve bottles.
"I miss the Wraith Chicken," Anthony mused, looking up at the cat climbing frame. "It would definitely push all your wine down, and then you'd know why a climbing frame isn't meant to be a storage rack."
The cat lay atop its white-wine stash, wagging its tail leisurely, squinting its eyes, and letting out a soft meow.
Anthony held out his hand. "Come here, good kitty."
But the cat just looked at him briefly, then turned its head away, disinterested. Anthony called to it a few more times but received no response, so he let it be.
"All right, you stay there. I'm going to take a walk." He stood up and put on his coat. "I have a hunch that I'll be very busy this afternoon... and for the next few days."
As he put his wand into his robe pocket, he took out the Wraith Rat. The mouse was napping and was suddenly startled awake by the poke of his wand.
"Want to take a walk?" Anthony asked the mouse.
The mouse jumped from his hand to the table, found a cozy spot between the pen holder and the teacup, and promptly fell asleep again.
…
The surface of the Black Lake sparkled with golden light under the sun, almost dazzling his eyes. A few students who had finished all their exams were lying on the lawn, enjoying the breeze, while others were reviewing by quizzing each other outdoors. But most were still in the castle library or common rooms, hunched over textbooks. Various insects buzzed around the flowers and plants, which the students swatted away impatiently.
Anthony walked along the shore of the Black Lake, lost in thought, pondering something not as warm and bright as the sunshine.
He had recently noticed that his necromancy was in a rather peculiar state. For reasons unknown, it suddenly seemed less eager to devour souls.
Anthony speculated that perhaps this was because the basilisk was, in fact, an extraordinarily large soul, or perhaps because Voldemort's soul was particularly unpleasant. He wasn't certain which theory was closer to the truth, nor could he decide which one he preferred.
Another discovery was that, after his connection with the wraith rat had strengthened, it was now able to escape from Hogwarts. He discussed the matter with Dumbledore, but even the Headmaster could only make educated guesses through the fog of magic.
Dumbledore suggested that Quirrell's incomplete curse had altered something in the wraith rat, though it was also possible the rat's newfound freedom was simply because it wanted to protect Anthony at that time.
"The determination to protect someone… if strong enough, it can create miracles. Love." When Dumbledore said "love," he was as serious as if they weren't talking about a dead mouse. He sighed softly. "I think Voldemort may not yet understand this."
Anthony asked, puzzled, "Love freed the mouse from the restrictions of Hogwarts? But whether or not it escaped at that time had no impact on the curse. That doesn't make sense."
Dumbledore smiled, "Then perhaps it's because Quirrell crafted his curse so… coincidentally." He continued, "'Expel you from the land of the living.' Your rat was expelled, Henry, but it relies on you to remain in this world—it is your summons… I remember you said that a wraith cannot truly die?"
"That's right because wraiths don't truly live," Anthony replied. "My rat isn't the shadow of any real rat, and my chicken isn't a reflection of any actual chicken. They're all—as I've said before—collections of intent."
"I doubt that Quirrell could successfully banish an intent, even if it were just the wish of the castle mice. Intent is one of the most stubborn forces in the world," Dumbledore said. "You know, every Headmaster and caretaker who's ever tried has failed miserably in attempting to rid the castle of Peeves."
Several portraits of past headmasters, who had been pretending to sleep on the wall, suddenly began to cough loudly, as if Dumbledore had just swept a handful of ashes into their nostrils with a feather duster.
Dumbledore introduced cheerfully: "This is Professor Eupracia Moore. She once tried to lock Peeves in a bell jar, but the end result was that Peeves gained the right to haunt the boys' bathroom. I was quite shocked when I went to take a shower."
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง