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Leaving Umbridge's office, Anthony was filled with confusion, and even a bit of anger at himself for it. He felt he should have understood what she was getting at. Instead, he'd just wasted a good half hour in that stuffy office, none the wiser about her insinuating words and sickly-sweet threats. To shake off the frustration, he yanked open his desk drawer, deciding to spend some quality time with the much more agreeable company of old parchments.
A few days later, Umbridge had finished her little chats with all the professors.
Anthony heard she'd nearly sacked Trelawney. They'd had a proper scene on some staircase until, in a burst of flame, Fawkes appeared out of nowhere and dropped a letter from Dumbledore. Umbridge had stalked off looking murderous after reading it ("Not that she ever looks not murderous," Professor Burbage had remarked tartly), leaving behind a hysterical Trelawney, a flustered McGonagall trying to console her, and a breathless Flitwick who'd just arrived.
Professor Kettleburn had been practically giddy waiting for his own dismissal notice, but it never came. Meanwhile, rumor among the staff was that Lockhart had come close. Maybe Dumbledore's letter protecting Trelawney covered him too. Or maybe his charm and—dare one think it—actual skill in Defense Against the Dark Arts had smoothed over past grievances. Of course, no one was tactless enough to ask him.
Anthony heard all this later. While the drama unfolded, he was neck-deep in notes on flesh magic, learning.
If Hagrid's note hadn't disrupted his study schedule, he might have figured out how to make Kettleburn's prosthetic behave like the real thing before Umbridge found another way to fire people. The note read:
Zoo's nearly done. Got something to show you. Come over tonight if you like.
Hagrid
It jolted Anthony right out of his peaceful study rhythm. He didn't wait for nightfall. By mid-afternoon, he was striding towards Hagrid's hut, barely registering the knee-high grass, the splashes of yellow and purple wildflowers, or the squirrels scattering through the rustling undergrowth.
"Hagrid?" He knocked. "Hagrid, you in?"
A bark answered from behind the door, then fell silent. Heavy footsteps. The door creaked open.
"Blimey, Henry!" Hagrid looked surprised. "What brings you?"
"You invited me," Anthony said. "The note? You said the zoo was almost ready—"
"Shh!" Hagrid hissed violently, looking left and right. "Inside, inside… It's a secret, Henry…"
Anthony followed him in. "What did you want to show me, Hagrid?"
The room was exactly as he remembered. A warm breeze through the half-open window made the dangling cured hams sway gently. The slightly warped wooden chairs stood by the fireplace. A massive iron kettle bubbled on the stove. A yellowish lump of dough sat on the counter.
Hagrid was wearing an apron dusted with flour. Fang trotted over happily, sniffing at Anthony's open palm with a wet nose while his tail beat a frantic rhythm in the air. Hagrid grabbed his collar and pulled him back, gesturing for Anthony to take a seat before washing his hands at the sink.
"Just gimme a mo. I'm bakin' rock cakes!" He plonked a mug of tea in front of Anthony and announced proudly, "You can have as many as you like later!"
"Oh… brilliant," Anthony said, resolving to be long gone before those rock cakes saw the light of day.
Hagrid hummed, clattering about for a while before finally shoving all the doughy lumps into the oven. He untied his apron, shoved his massive hands under the tap, and asked loudly over the rush of water, "So, wanna see the zoo then, Henry?"
"No, I came because your note told me to," Anthony raised his voice to match. "You said you had something to show me."
"Oh, that!" Hagrid said, realization dawning. "But I told you to come at night. They're more interestin' after dark…"
"Who?" Anthony asked.
Hagrid turned off the tap. He suddenly looked a bit nervous.
"Y'see, the zoo's almost ready…" He wrung his huge hands. "They agreed to let Fluffy guard the back gate, but that leaves the front gate a bit short on security…"
"A name, Hagrid. Give me its—or their—name. What will be our lovely zoo's front gate guardian?"
"Haven't named 'em yet," Hagrid said. "But I asked you here so you could pick one."
"What?"
"Pick one. As a gift, if you like it…" Hagrid fidgeted. "Thought you might. It can live with its mates in the zoo. You'd just visit now and then. Wouldn't be any trouble."
Anthony asked warily, "It's not a dragon egg, is it?"
"What? No," Hagrid said. "I'm not the sort to go 'round givin' out dragon eggs. Suppose I haven't given you much, have I? Mostly just caused you bother." He chuckled ("Don't mention it," Anthony smiled back). "Anyway, best show you first… Professor Kettleburn and Flitwick thought it was a grand idea…"
He bent to peer into the oven, tossed Fang half a ham, and then led Anthony back outside.
They headed straight for the Forbidden Forest—Anthony made sure Umbridge was nowhere in sight—crossing the lush lawn, then a muddy path. The trees grew denser, their shapes more twisted. The air grew colder. A few lonely birdcalls echoed through the woods. Anthony stumbled after Hagrid, regretting not telling McGonagall where he was going.
"You're keeping them next to the Acromantulas?" Anthony gasped, emerging from a patch of prickly bushes.
"Nah, next to the Chimaera enclosure," Hagrid said matter-of-factly. "Aragog says he's allergic to these things. Says they eat the little spiders."
They walked on. The crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot only made the woods feel quieter. Sunlight couldn't pierce the thick canopy overhead, leaving the forest in deep gloom. Hagrid's lantern swung, creaking, making shadows dance around them.
Suddenly, Hagrid stopped.
"Here we are," he said, hoisting the lantern high. "See, that hut's for the Chimaera. Professor Kettleburn said they're best kept here for now… Never mind them… Here. This is what I wanted to show you."
In the lantern's glow, Anthony saw the paddock ahead was packed with strange magical creatures. They were furry. Huge and round, a good five or six feet tall. Like giant, shaggy balls.
And they were barking.
One ball shoved its nose through the bottom of the fencing, sniffing towards their shoes. Its nose was long and pointed, covered in dense, bristly fur. Suddenly, a long tongue shot out. It dug powerfully into the dirt, burrowed, snatched up what looked like worms or grubs, and snapped back into its mouth. The furry ball grunted in satisfaction. Then it barked again.
"What d'you think of 'Furry-nosed Hounds'?" Hagrid suggested. "Or 'Fluff-balls'? 'Worm-Gobblers'? 'Long-Tongue Fluffies'?"
"All have merit," Anthony said, watching one fluffy ball roll clumsily over another to reach a different part of the fence.
Hagrid beamed. "They're great, aren't they? Took me a fair bit of work to breed 'em…"
"You bred them, Hagrid?" Anthony said. "That's… impressive! What made you think to breed these…" He gestured vaguely at the paddock, unsure how to point out these creatures were slightly less traditionally intimidating than Hagrid's usual taste.
"Oh, they're dead cute, aren't they? Knew you'd like 'em!" Hagrid said proudly.
"Really, they're… something else," Anthony agreed. "By the way… is privately breeding magical creatures even legal?"
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