"Oh," Snape said, his tone loaded with meaning.
Malfoy asked in a low voice, "Tell me, Severus, is this part of Dumbledore's plan?"
Snape pondered for a moment. "Hard to say. But, Lucius, allow me to offer you a small piece of advice. If I were you, I would be… more careful lately."
Malfoy's figure seemed to tense, his pale fingers gripping his own wrist.
"More careful!" A trace of irritation and blame crept into his voice. "If I needed to be more careful, I shouldn't have agreed to apply for that Azkaban visitation permit for you! Even if the Auror Office is too busy these days to notice some… trivialities, the Hit Wizards might still catch wind of something."
"Don't speak as if I'm the only one who wants to stop hearing that rat squeak, Lucius. You know why you agreed," Snape said, unmoved. "I'm merely suggesting you maintain your pristine identity. Do I need to remind you how much Fudge relies on your donations?"
"You say it so easily," Malfoy said coldly. "Of course, Dumbledore vouched for you. You truly have nothing to worry about. You're the good professor by Dumbledore's side, privy to all his plans…"
"Lucius, you aren't naïve enough to believe Dumbledore truly trusts me, are you?" Snape said. "You've surely heard he still refuses to grant me the Defence Against the Dark Arts post? Draco must have mentioned the prejudice and pressure against Slytherin as well… Of course, I'm not saying my little confessional speech was entirely useless, but everyone knows what Dumbledore is like."
Anthony glanced to his side in surprise. There was only darkness there. He could no longer see Dumbledore at all.
"But—"
"I have always been very careful," Snape cut Malfoy off. "You know I wouldn't have told anyone about Dumbledore and Black, Lucius."
Malfoy fell silent. The night wind howled past them. The sign hanging outside the nearest shop creaked and groaned. Anthony heard the boar's head outside the distant Hog's Head Inn let out a loud, snorting grunt.
"Incidentally," Snape said, pausing meaningfully. He only received a scoff from Malfoy in response. "If you still have contact with other… acquaintances, and wish to warn them, there's no need to mention my name."
Malfoy said softly, "So, Black really this afternoon…" He seemed convinced by Snape now, the annoyance fading from his tone.
"I said, Dumbledore doesn't fully trust me. But you know Dumbledore's style. We can't rule out the possibility Black is pretending." Snape added with a cold sneer, "Not that I have higher expectations for his intellect… If you have no further business, I must take my leave. Good night."
Anthony saw Snape's hood dip slightly, as if nodding to Malfoy. Without waiting for a reply, Snape spun on the spot and vanished with a soft crack.
Malfoy stood alone for a moment. He reached up, pulling his hood lower, and Disapparated as well.
"I think we should be leaving too, Henry." Dumbledore's voice suddenly came from beside Anthony. "I suggest you hold onto my arm."
Anthony turned. The air seemed to ripple, and Dumbledore appeared abruptly on the street. A wave of warmth washed over Anthony. Dumbledore had simultaneously lifted the Disillusionment Charm.
"I'd almost thought you'd left, sir," Anthony said, placing his hand on Dumbledore's proffered arm. "Where to?"
"Diagon Alley. I believe Severus will meet us there," Dumbledore said lightly. "I was indeed away for a moment, but we can discuss that later. Ready? Good. Three, two, one—"
The ground beneath Anthony's feet spun violently. The familiar, squeezing sensation of being forced through a tight rubber tube returned, but it felt longer than ever before. Just as Anthony began to wonder if he'd been flattened, his feet finally hit solid ground. Freezing air rushed into his nostrils, inflating him like a balloon.
He opened his eyes to the familiar streetlamps and cobblestones of Diagon Alley. The shops lining the street were closed, but a few small lights still glowed in their windows, casting an unreal halo over the merchandise quietly awaiting buyers.
"Oh, right," Anthony said, straightening up and releasing his grip on Dumbledore's lean, strong arm. Apparating directly from Hogsmeade to Diagon Alley, of course. He should have guessed.
"Saving a bit of time," Dumbledore explained.
Pop. A black-clad figure appeared beside them.
"Good to see you again, Severus," Dumbledore said.
Snape's face was dark. "You heard, Dumbledore. Merely an irresponsible man enjoying his newfound freedom. Nothing to do with the Dark Lord. Or did you wish for me to visit a few more people?" His hood was down now. His eyes narrowed unpleasantly, surveying the surroundings with caution.
"No, Severus. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it truly has nothing to do with our old friends," Dumbledore said. "However, while you and Lucius were having your little… friendly chat, I took a stroll around Hogsmeade. You know, Severus, Hogsmeade has some very famous sights. Among them is the Shrieking Shack…"
"Believe me, I remember the shack," Snape said impatiently. "If you aren't going to tell me directly, I would be more than happy to return to the castle, Dumbledore. As you well know, I do have many things to do."
"And I found a Boggart," Dumbledore said.
"Splendid, Dumbledore," Snape said. "I can't wait to hear that all of this is Potter's ravings after seeing a Boggart."
Anthony frowned. "I thought that Boggart was Professor Lupin's."
Dumbledore continued, "It was dead. It looked as though something had savagely mauled it. I followed the signs of the struggle. I found a full set of broomstick maintenance tools, a large bag of sweets, a bundle of fine quills, a sack of joke toys, and four sandwiches."
For a moment, Anthony didn't know what to say.
"So?" Snape said icily. "Black killed the Boggart and escaped?"
"Hmm… Let us hope Tom is indeed not sleeping," Dumbledore said, leading the way towards The Leaky Cauldron. "We still have some questions regarding chips and lettuce to resolve."
"Sirius Black?" Tom said. "Yes, he was in Diagon Alley this afternoon."
Anthony sat at his familiar spot at the bar, flanked by Dumbledore and Snape. Minutes earlier, Tom had emerged slowly from his little back room, lamp in hand, grumbling as he opened the tavern door in response to their knocking. With a merchant's eye, he had almost forcibly ensured everyone ordered something.
Anthony took a small sip of brandy. "Come on, Tom. You must know more."
Tom looked at him, then glanced at Dumbledore and Snape as if for confirmation. Dumbledore was lightly sniffing his mead, smiling and nodding at Tom. Snape stood to the side, staring coldly at the small plate of oatcakes set before him on the bar.
"Alright, alright," Tom said. "You know that new fast-food place that opened nearby? Opened not long ago, sells sandwiches and fish and chips and the like. Business is booming, almost giving Florean Fortescue's ice cream a run for its money… Anyway, this afternoon, Black was walking out of the fast-food place, eating chips. People didn't recognize him at first, honestly. He looks much healthier than in the papers. Then he suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, stared at his chips, and shouted. Gave everyone a fright."
"What did he shout?" Dumbledore asked with concern.
"'This isn't real,' or something like that," Tom said. "Some say Black even grabbed a passerby, pointed at the chips in his hand, and asked them if it was real. They got quite a scare. Poor fellow. I suppose Azkaban drove him mad after all."
Anthony asked, "And then?"
"He stood there in the street for a while—scared several people off, they all ran in here—then, according to those who saw, he took a few deep breaths and left," Tom said. "The ground was covered in chips he'd dropped. The fast-food shop staff rushed out to clean up, but quite a few customers left. Bad luck for the shop this afternoon. They could have sold more."
"Left?" Anthony said. "Went where?"
"How should I know?" Tom said. "Went back, I suppose. Another one, Henry?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks," Anthony said, puzzled. "That's strange."
After thanking Tom, Dumbledore left The Leaky Cauldron with Snape. Anthony lingered behind to order a few bottles of brandy from Tom, intending them as a Christmas gift for Norbert. When he pushed open the tavern door, he found Dumbledore and Snape standing outside the newly opened fast-food shop, studying its sign.
Anthony hurried over. "Anything noteworthy?"
"The items left in the Shrieking Shack lead me to believe Sirius originally intended to return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, still examining the shop closely. "What fear stopped him? What did he think wasn't real? What did he see?"
Snape said sarcastically, "Fried potato sticks?"
"No, I think not," Dumbledore said seriously. "If I recall correctly, Sirius was very fond of chips. Especially with black pepper." He began waving his wand, inspecting the ground outside the shop entrance. "No obvious traces of Dark Magic."
Snape stood with his arms crossed. "Marvellous. Try this: he heard it's now illegal to put black pepper on chips and realized he was headed straight back to Azkaban."
Anthony walked into the alley beside the fast-food shop. It was a place the streetlights didn't reach. Fish bones and various bits of litter seemed scattered between the paving stones. A row of bins stood neatly against the wall, awaiting the unified Vanishing Charm come sunrise.
"Such a law would be a nightmare," Dumbledore said. "Can you think of any potions that might induce hallucinations, Severus?"
Several feline creatures were rummaging in the bins, clanging the metal sides. They looked up warily as Anthony approached, leaped out of the bins, arched their backs with threatening hisses, their surprisingly large ears flattened. Their eyes glowed with an eerie green light in the darkness.
"Kneazles?" Anthony said softly, raising his hands. "Shh, it's alright. I'm just looking, okay?"
The nearest Kneazle let out a sharp yowl and vanished like the wind. The remaining ones, with bits of fried fish in their mouths, disappeared silently into the dark.
"For dipping chips, Dumbledore?" Snape said coldly. "I nearly thought the most common review of potions wasn't 'foul-tasting' or 'foul-smelling' anymore."
Anthony lit the tip of his wand. In the white glow of the Lumos charm, he studied the alley. The Kneazles had forgotten to replace the bin lids when they left, so he walked over.
Dumbledore was saying, "But there are indeed some colourless, odourless potions…"
"Sir," Anthony said.
"Just to be certain, are there any ingredients in the nutritional potion Sirius is taking that might…" Dumbledore was still discussing with Snape.
"Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape," Anthony raised his voice. "I suspect I know what he saw."
He was staring into the bin.
Dumbledore and Snape strode over quickly, joining him in looking down at the bin's contents. Among the scattered sauce packets, stray breadcrumbs, and leftover chips, the most abundant item of refuse was crumpled, grease-stained fast-food wrapping paper: outdated newspapers.
In the light of Anthony's wand, these papers cast jagged shadows on the bin's inner walls. Pictures moved within them, figures walking about, flashing pretty smiles while displaying merchandise beside them.
Sandwiched between You Should Know These Nimbus 2001 Modification Ideas and Undersecretary Umbridge States Black Magic Item Searches Are Progressing Orderly, were several copies of The Fate of Peter Pettigrew: Life Imprisonment in Azkaban.
A New Year's Letter to Readers
Happy Lunar New Year, everyone!
I spent the day's spare time organizing the outline. Hoping to keep pushing forward with updates in the new year.
There's so much I want to say, but when it comes to typing it out, I write and delete, write and delete. A kind of information-age speechlessness, I suppose.
Thank you all for being willing, across the vastness of the internet, to spend your time reading this rough little fanfiction of mine.
When I first started writing it, I had just graduated, stuck in that frustrating period of collecting rejection letters. Time zones separated me from friends and family back home. The future was uncertain, deadlines loomed, I sent out piles of emails, wrote various cover letters, attended all sorts of interviews, only to be rejected every single time in the end. Constant self-scrutiny of my resume… I spent whole days lying in my little room. The biggest physical exertion of the day was going to the supermarket for groceries and cooking at home.
Then I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to hide in some virtual world. Harry Potter has always been my Neverland. So when I opened my laptop and declared out loud, "I want to write about someone who inexplicably gets a job and is actually pretty happy doing it," Hogwarts jumped into my mind.
Yes, that's how the Muggle Studies Professor position appeared in this fanfic. The original idea was just that simple: a story about an ordinary person whose life is disrupted by magic, who keeps falling in love with their own life—supermarket cashier, Muggle Studies Professor, or any possible profession (the various muggles encountered in practice activities)—a story about constantly, constantly, constantly falling in love with this world teeming with living people, magical or not.
And falling in love with the world of Harry Potter is the easiest thing in the world.
I am immensely grateful to all the readers who have accompanied this unfinished fanfic as it grew longer over these past months. Without you, I wouldn't dare believe I could have written for this long.
Salmon bows, accompanied by the Skeleton Cat, the Wraith Chicken, the Wraith Mouse, and the unknown Patronus, the big black bear.
—
P.S. For a while, I struggled a lot with the idea of profiting from fanfiction. To be honest, I still struggle with it now, and I foresee many more rounds of self-debate ahead.
I can say very frankly that when I first started writing, I never even imagined I'd reach the point of signing a contract and putting chapters behind a paywall. So when I received my first payment from it, I suddenly didn't know what to do with the money.
I originally planned to talk about this when the whole book was finished, but then I thought: how dare I assume what I write in the future will still satisfy all of you (or even myself)?
So, even if it might come across as overly sentimental, I still want to tell you all:
I used the earnings from this story (and perhaps a bit of my salary) to fulfill a wish I wrote on a childhood bucket list. At the age when I hid under the covers, reading Harry Potter by flashlight (and I believe I'm definitely not the only reader who did this), I made a wish. Now, with your help, that wish has been realized.
These certificates belong to you all, too.
—
Edit: Woke up to see the reaction… Just donated 50,000 according to that old wish list! Whether there will be donations in the future is hard to say; maybe I'll use it to fulfill other wishes on the list, lol.
Posted it just to share the happiness with fellow readers!
I'm not a serious charity worker. Giving money to me is less effective than giving directly to proper public welfare platforms. Recommending a few educational aid platforms I personally think are decent (hope there are no landmines…):
Shijia Yi (Ten Plus One) Student Aid: Targeted sponsorship. Ten sponsors form a WeChat group, sending 300-500 yuan monthly to the sponsored child (30-50 yuan per person). The group includes volunteers and the child's homeroom teacher, who periodically report on the student's progress. The student joins the group themself when they're older.
One Village One School: Focuses on one-on-one sponsorship (though their official website currently may not have students needing help), but they also run other related projects. Annual financial briefings can be found on their site.
Puhua One-on-One: Also focuses on one-on-one sponsorship, emphasizing direct contact between sponsor and sponsored. They have channels for donating funds as well as physical items. Not too long ago, they opened up a relatively non-specific public donation channel. Similarly, less formal briefings can be found on their official website.
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