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Anthony returned to his office, placing his lesson plans on the desk. He walked into his bedroom and found the Transfiguration materials Professor McGonagall had given him in the bedside table drawer. In the slightly swaying ceiling lamp above, he saw the head of a Wraith Mouse peeking out.
"Morning, Mouse," Anthony said. He was quite used to spotting his pets in all sorts of places by now.
The mouse squeaked once and pulled its head back in. Anthony opened the wardrobe and, as expected, found a dozing Wraith Chicken nestled among his shirts. He closed the wardrobe door, gathered the materials, and returned to his office, burying his nose in the notes on what to watch for when turning an owl into a small telescope.
"Even after a successful transformation, one must take care not to hold the telescope backwards during inspection…" An illustration here demonstrated the correct posture. "This is not only the proper way to use a telescope, but also to avoid having one's eyes pecked out should the transfiguration fail."
Anthony flipped through more pages. He saw other transfiguration exercises: turning a rabbit into a pillow, a squirrel into a hairbrush. He looked around the office. No owl. No rabbit or squirrel either. Just a ginger cat curled up asleep to his left. Anthony set down the notes and reached out to stroke the cat. Still dreaming, the cat deftly grabbed his hand and chomped down.
"Hey!" Anthony protested.
The cat opened its bright yellow eyes and gave him a look, reluctantly releasing his hand. Anthony pulled Roger the Snake from a drawer and dangled it before the now-awake cat. It didn't seem to have fully forgiven him. It lay on the desk, lazily batting at Roger the Snake a few times with its paw, then stood up, stretched, and jumped off the table with an air of complete disinterest. It started sharpening its claws on his chair leg.
Its front claws were just about to hook into the seat when Anthony suddenly remembered. "Oh, right. Professor Lockhart mentioned he heard you throwing a tantrum."
The cat remained utterly focused on the chair, claws scraping rhythmically, producing a grating scritch-scritch-scratch sound.
Anthony watched it for a moment, then sighed. He stood up and walked over to the cupboard. The moment he used a Levitation Charm to bring down the few bottles of white wine, the cat's movements abruptly slowed.
Anthony glanced over his shoulder. The cat instantly resumed its vicious assault on the chair, scraping out every awful noise it could muster.
He grinned, uncorked a bottle, and crouched down, pouring a small amount into the cat's dish. "Come on, Cat."
The cat kept both front paws on the chair, turning its head to give him a long, scrutinizing look.
"Don't be cross, alright?" Anthony said. "Come here, kitty. I'm sorry."
The ginger cat hesitated for a second. It gave the long-suffering chair a final, dismissive look, then trotted quickly over to Anthony, lowering its head to sniff the white wine in the bowl, almost burying its nose in it. Anthony glanced up to confirm the door was locked, then transformed it back into its Skeleton Cat form.
Beneath its fur, the cat had maintained some semblance of dignity. Now, as a skeleton, the two raging orbs of Soul Fire in its eye sockets gave away exactly how eager it was. The white wine in the bowl ignited almost instantly. The cat lowered its pale jawbone and sharp teeth into the flames with evident relish.
When Anthony placed his hand on its spinal column, the Skeleton Cat arched its back slightly, gave its tail a flick, and made no further attempt to bite him.
Anthony smiled. "Alright. Truce?"
The Skeleton Cat ignored him.
"Truce it is," Anthony declared, satisfied, and sat down beside the cat's fiery dish.
After a while, he said, "You know, Cat, I don't think Madam Umbridge seems like the type who enjoys undead pets."
The Skeleton Cat finally turned its skull towards him.
Anthony absently ran his fingers along its bones. "I heard she's already using a Chimera to threaten Professor Kettleburn… Oh, Hagrid!" He suddenly remembered Hagrid should still be preparing for his Chimera breeding license assessment, and he was already beginning to suspect Umbridge would have something to say about that too.
"I'm planning to visit Hagrid this afternoon. After lunch," Anthony said. He wasn't overly keen on Hagrid's rock cakes dipped in stew just yet. "Want to come?"
The Skeleton Cat turned back with complete disinterest, immersing more of its bones into the fiery bowl. Its Soul Fire burned steadily, savoring the white wine.
Anthony conceded, "Thought so. Fang's a good dog, Cat. Don't scare him."
By afternoon, the weather was still utterly miserable. The sky pressed down with iron-grey clouds. A bitingly cold wind whistled from every corner. Everything was a dull, dreary grey, as if threatening to snow again. Hardly anyone was strolling outside the castle. Only groups of students returning from the greenhouses hurried past, their steps more urgent than usual. The prospect of a soft armchair by a crackling fire felt more tempting than ever.
Anthony made his way down the path towards Hagrid's hut. The snow that had blanketed the pumpkin patch was gone, leaving only dark brown earth exposed under the weak daylight. Between the dark mass of the Forbidden Forest and the bare patch of land stood Hagrid's little wooden house, glowing with cozy firelight and a thin wisp of chimney smoke.
As he got closer, he could hear the heavy thump, thump, thump of Hagrid's footsteps pacing inside, accompanied by the intermittent sound of drawers opening and closing. Hagrid seemed to be searching for something. Fang started barking excitedly as Anthony approached, and the noises from inside the hut ceased.
Anthony knocked.
"Who's there?" Hagrid's gruff voice called out. "Harry? Henry?" The door creaked open, revealing his bushy, bearded face.
Anthony smiled at him. "Just me." Fang squeezed his head past Hagrid, snuffling and trying to leap up to lick Anthony. Hagrid hauled him back.
"Oh, Henry," Hagrid said, sounding relieved. "Back, Fang, back!" He pulled the door open wider.
Anthony squeezed inside. "Expecting someone?" he asked curiously.
"No, no…" Hagrid said. "Just thought… maybe…"
"Who were you expecting?" Anthony pressed. "Mr. Potter?—Fang!" The large black boarhound had launched itself at him, nearly giving him a face-wash with slobber. Anthony braced under Fang's weight, scratching its head while trying to guide its front paws back to the floor.
Hagrid boomed, "'Course not, Harry's got classes!" He grabbed Fang by the collar and hauled the dog away.
"So who, then?" Anthony was even more intrigued now.
He moved over to the table and cabinet, looking at the scattered parchments and several open books. Most parchments were blank; a few had "Hogwarts Zoo" or "Hogwarts Magical Zoo" scrawled on them. The rest were mostly adorned with large, impressive ink blots.
"Waitin' on Professor Kettleburn. Sent him an owl," Hagrid said, clattering about making tea. "Or Harry, Ron, and Hermione, if they didn't have classes after all. You must've heard already. Professor McGonagall agreed to our zoo idea. Said we ought to write up a plan, though. Or a scheme. Or a report. Or a proposal. Somethin' like that." He scratched his head vigorously. "Haven't a clue what to write."
He turned, eyeing Anthony hopefully. "Henry, you wouldn't know how to write one, would you?"
"I don't," Anthony said quickly. He'd never once considered how to open a zoo.
"Right," Hagrid said, deflated, setting a chipped teacup before Anthony. "I'll just keep thinkin', then…"
"What exactly do you need to think about?" Anthony asked, taking a sip. The tea was strong enough to strip paint.
"The name!" Hagrid said earnestly. "Henry, which is better? 'Magical Zoo,' 'Hogwarts Magical Zoo,' or 'A Super-Magical Magical Zoo'?"
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