Snow fell in the afternoon, just as expected. Dark clouds pressed down, and a biting wind wailed and shrieked against the library windows. Every lamp inside was lit, and the hearth in the common area blazed fiercely.
Anthony settled into the plush sofa with his notebook and two grim tomes on flesh magic, leaning over the small round table. The fire dancing a few feet away warmed his shoes and trouser legs. The worse the weather, the more he loved the library. The soft crackle of burning logs mingled with the rustle of turning pages and the scritch-scratch of quills on parchment. It formed a kind of warm, eternal sanctuary, a solid barrier against the howling wind and the long winter outside. Somehow, the gentle, rustling sounds of the library were a promise that the blizzard and the darkness outside would ultimately fail.
He spent the whole afternoon there. Half his time went to studying flesh magic, the other half to a small book on dragon behavior. He carefully compared the black-and-white illustrations to his memories of Norbert. By the time night fell, he'd decided to give Norbert a large block of applewood soaked in brandy for Christmas.
Anthony closed the book. He'd almost forgotten dinner. Again. He stood up just as Professor Sprout and Snape walked into the library.
Professor Sprout looked cheerful. She nodded at a few passing students. Under her patched witch's hat, her nose, cheeks, and ears were flushed pink from the cold outside.
Snape was his usual gloomy self. Students gave him a wide berth, clutching their books or bags tight, trying desperately not to be noticed.
"Good suggestion, Severus. I really should plant some Alihotsy," Professor Sprout was saying. "Silvanus's Niffler would be delighted… Ah, Henry! Good evening. I didn't see you at dinner."
"I was just heading to the Great Hall," Anthony said, gesturing with his notebook. "Spent the whole afternoon in here."
"Fried fish and steak tonight," Professor Sprout informed him. "The fish is cooked in butter with black pepper. Quite good."
"I'm looking forward to it," Anthony said. "Oh, Pomona, did you find that procurement list?"
"Oh," Professor Sprout said. "No, but I can remember a few titles. It would be lovely if you could check if Flourish and Blotts has the 'Magical Plants and Their Properties Around the World' series… I think I already have the 'Mediterranean Magical Aquatic Plants and Their Properties', so I don't need that one… Then there's 'The Complete Guide to Carnivorous Trees and Grasses,' the 'Supplement on Hallucinogenic Plants of Africa and Asia,' 'An Atlas of Fungi'…"
"Hold on, Pomona," Anthony said with a laugh. He reopened his notebook to the last page. "'Magical Plants and Their Properties Around the World,' excluding the Mediterranean one… What else?"
"Ah, yes," Professor Sprout said, slowing her speech. "'The Complete Guide to Carnivorous Trees and Grasses.' The ones in Greenhouse Two haven't been looking well lately… Probably moving too much and eating too little."
Anthony wasn't sure if he should feel sympathy for the carnivorous cushions. "Hmm…"
While Professor Sprout listed titles, Snape caught a student sneaking a sugar quill into the library.
He docked Hufflepuff three points. Madam Pince pointed furiously at the framed notice above the entrance. "If you are incapable of reading, you have no business in this library! Rule one hundred and seven: No food of any kind, perishable or otherwise, is to be brought into the library!"
Anthony looked up. "Kevin?"
"Professor—er, Professor Anthony," Kevin Jones, the Hufflepuff first-year, whispered. He was clutching a scroll of parchment, from which the ends of a few quills peeked out.
Kevin glanced at Snape, then said to Professor Sprout with a guilty look, "I'm sorry, Professor Sprout. I wasn't going to eat it in here. I just forgot it wasn't a normal quill, forgot to take it out."
The skeptical expressions on Snape and Madam Pince's faces made it clear they found this explanation completely unacceptable.
Professor Sprout smiled kindly at Kevin. "No harm done, it happens to the best of us. I forget things sometimes. Hand the delicious quill to Madam Pince. There we go. Now, off you go to whatever you were doing."
Kevin brightened. "Yes, Professor Sprout! Have a pleasant evening! Goodbye, Professor Anthony!" He flicked another glance at Snape and added politely, "Goodbye, Professor Snape, Madam Pince."
"Goodbye," Anthony said, watching Kevin disappear behind the tall rows of bookshelves.
Kevin was still wearing his trainers. A Tyrannosaurus rex sticker was plastered on the side of his right shoe. The dinosaur bounced along with his steps, jaws wide as if threatening all the books he passed.
"This year's Hufflepuff first-years," Professor Sprout remarked. "You know him, Henry?"
Anthony nodded, jotting down the last title Professor Sprout had mentioned. "We're neighbors."
"Oh, I see," Professor Sprout said, understanding dawning. "Jones is an outgoing, kind-hearted boy. I can imagine him trying to befriend the neighbors. They must have been so surprised to find out you're a Hogwarts professor."
Anthony chuckled. "Yes." He recalled how the Joneses had complained about Snape's cold demeanor and couldn't help but look at the man. Snape caught his gaze instantly, his own eyes cold and piercing.
Anthony wondered if Snape had also noticed the starkly different atmospheres between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. If Kevin, a Muggle-born, had somehow been Sorted into Slytherin, his school life would be nothing like this. He probably wouldn't be greeting professors so cheerfully.
"Something on your mind, Professor Anthony?" Snape asked.
"Nothing," Anthony shrugged. He looked back at his list. "Decided which books you want, Professor Snape?"
"No," Snape said simply. From his tone, Anthony heard the unspoken addition: 'And don't ask again.' Clearly, Snape's earlier comments hadn't meant he actually wanted to buy books through Anthony's shop assistant friend. He'd just wanted to embarrass Lockhart.
"But Severus," Professor Sprout said, "you just mentioned that three or four papers Damocles cited are in those hard-to-find collections."
"I doubt Flourish and Blotts—" Snape began.
"You must try, Severus!" Professor Sprout urged.
Anthony added, "You'd be surprised what oddities Flourish and Blotts has in storage, Professor Snape."
Professor Sprout encouraged him. "It never hurts to ask."
Snape hesitated. Then he stepped forward, gesturing for Anthony to hand him the pen.
Anthony watched, slightly surprised, as Snape swiftly wrote down several absurdly long titles. He was genuinely taken aback to see Snape using a biro with apparent familiarity. When the ink clogged, Snape shook it impatiently instead of re-dipping the tip in an inkwell like most wizards would.
"These three," Snape said.
Anthony glanced at the list. He didn't attempt to pronounce the string of words that seemed to be the reports and papers of some Potions symposium from some year. He closed his notebook and nodded to Professor Sprout and Snape. "Alright. I'll let you know next week if Flourish and Blotts can find them. But for now, I really should go. I might still catch some of that butter-fried fish."
Professor Sprout's eyes widened. "Oh, goodness, yes! Off you go, Henry. My apologies."
After bidding them goodbye, Anthony hurried towards the Great Hall. He heard Professor Sprout behind him, gently chiding Snape to be more civil to colleagues. Snape caught a couple sharing a Chocolate Frog in the library and docked Gryffindor ten points.
…
The corridors were full of students leaving the Great Hall. Each one was well-fed, faces glowing, laughing and chatting loudly with friends. Anthony nodded to those who greeted him, weaving through a sea of black robes until he reached the Hall, filled with the rich scent of food.
The mostly empty House tables were still laden with gleaming silver platters of ridiculously abundant food. The Hall blazed with light. The few students still seated were finishing off the remains on the plates, talking all the while, filling the Hall with a low, contented hum.
The staff table was empty, but Anthony was just in time to snag a portion of fried fish and heap four spoonfuls of mashed potatoes onto his plate. Professor Sprout was right—this was the best fried fish he'd had since arriving at Hogwarts. The house-elves must have worked hard.
He couldn't help but think of Wormtail's body, moved by Dobby. From what the house-elf had said, Anthony suspected the location was the Room of Requirement.
He took a bite of mashed potato, firmly pushing the memories of Azkaban to the very bottom of his mind. He was determined to just enjoy his dinner.
…
Anthony was drinking his pumpkin juice when he saw Professor McGonagall enter the Hall. She sidestepped a few students hurriedly wiping their mouths, scanned the room, and walked towards the staff table.
"Minerva," Anthony greeted her. He watched her pull out the chair next to him and sit down, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you alright? Have you eaten?"
"Not yet," Professor McGonagall said. She leaned back slightly, allowing herself to rest against the chair back. "I've arranged a burial plot for Peter Pettigrew. Near his mother's."
Anthony poured her a glass of pumpkin juice. "Will he… have a funeral?"
"I don't know," Professor McGonagall said. She sat up straighter, eyeing the food before her. "Has the Ministry owled you yet, Henry? The fish looks good."
"The fish is good," Anthony confirmed, and only then did her question register. "No, they haven't. Why?"
"They've sent me at least three letters. I imagine Albus has received more," Professor McGonagall said, taking a portion of fish for herself. "Owls flying back and forth with letters. They've even drawn the attention of several Muggles. Good heavens, they don't seem to care about the Statute of Secrecy at all!"
Anthony remembered the Ministry's spectacular feat of flooding his room with owls. "I know, Minerva," he said sympathetically. "They've never been particularly rigorous about that."
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