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With his mind at ease, Anthony spent a considerable amount of time in his office reading Secrets of Time and forgot all about lunch. If not for Professor Burbage's sudden visit, he might have forgotten even more.
"Charity?" Anthony pulled the door open, letting her in. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing major. Just remembered I should give you this." Professor Burbage handed over a piece of parchment, nodding towards the cat curled on the cat tree, one eye half-open. The cat yawned, turned its face away, and settled back to sleep against the wall.
"What's this? A list?"
"Yes," Professor Burbage said. "I forgot to tell you. Professors need to submit the list of students taking the exam to the Wizarding Examinations Authority in advance. I ran into Professor Marchbanks just after leaving Madam Bones's office. She reminded me the Authority hadn't yet received the Muggle Studies list, which jogged my memory. Here, you need to sign to confirm, then owl it to this address. They'll send a confirmation letter back once they receive it."
As she spoke, she settled into the chair opposite Anthony's desk and took off her hat. "Anything to eat? Biscuits?"
Anthony got up and retrieved a nearly-empty jar of coconut ice from a decorative cabinet. "Here."
Professor Burbage unscrewed the lid, frowned at the misshapen squares, picked one out critically, and began to eat. "Not terribly fresh," she remarked.
Anthony kept his head bowed over the student list. "It's not even a year old yet," he defended. He glanced up, anticipating her next comment, and added, "But I was planning to buy some new sweets. If it hadn't poured all day, you'd be eating the freshest Sugar Quills right now."
"Don't get Honeydukes' Sucking Sugar Quills, Henry. Their Fudge Quills are far nicer," Professor Burbage advised. "They just don't look as much like real quills. But we're professors. We don't need to pretend we're taking notes while pondering deep thoughts."
"Alright," Anthony said.
Something about Professor Burbage seemed different. He glanced at her a few more times while reviewing the list before he realized what it was: her hair. The strands that usually fell across her forehead and around her ears were all pulled back, secured in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. It made her frame seem even more slight and her bright, intelligent eyes appear even larger in her pale face.
"You can't imagine what I was doing today," Professor Burbage complained around a mouthful of coconut ice.
"Mhm."
"A few drunks broke into the Ministry, lying on the floor protesting the Muggle Protection Act. The Hit Wizards from the Law Enforcement Patrol tried to kick them out. So this bunch of sots started cursing the Ministry as 'witch-hunting lackeys' and tried to Apparate away. I arrived just in time to see them Splinch. The Atrium had everything. Eyebrows. Hair. Chunks of meat. Half a leg…"
Anthony finished signing, folded the list, and set it aside. He'd take it to the owlery after dinner.
Professor Burbage continued, "A while later, I was still in Madam Bones's office when a pack of reporters came knocking. They wanted to ask if the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement intended to authorize her highly-trained Hit Wizards—who should be protecting the wizarding world—to attempt to murder witches and wizards for the sake of Muggles. I'd turned down the Muggle Studies Society's afternoon symposium for my discussion with Madam Bones, only to waste my time explaining to a bunch of agenda-driven fools—and a few genuine idiots—that the Muggle Protection Act isn't about infringing on magical rights, let alone some Muggle conspiracy or a civilized witch hunt! Merlin, I'm a witch myself!"
"Arthur mentioned something similar to me," Anthony said. "Some people are rather unhappy about the Statute of Secrecy. It's made his work difficult lately."
"Don't need to tell me who's behind it," Professor Burbage snorted. "I know the names by heart. What have you been doing today, Henry?" She abruptly changed the subject.
"Me?" Anthony glanced at the book by his hand. "Just enjoying my weekend."
Professor Burbage raised her eyebrows. "You haven't been reading this whole time, have you? What is it? Secrets of Time?" She shook her head. "You should get out more, Henry."
"In this weather?"
"You haven't left your rooms since this morning, have you?" Professor Burbage said knowingly. "The rain stopped by noon. Any plans for tonight?"
Anthony doubted she'd approve of him continuing with his book, but he only had about fifty pages left. Before he could come up with a reply, his hesitation gave him away.
"Excellent. No plans." She put her hat back on, pushed the coconut ice aside, and stood up briskly. "Fancy a decent dinner?"
Anthony sighed with a smile and rose as well. "Alright. Where? The Great Hall?"
"No. The symposium dinner should be starting soon." Professor Burbage checked her watch. "With luck, we might still get the last of the blueberry cake."
…
After two Portkeys, Professor Burbage led Anthony to the back of a rubbish truck. She tapped the lock with her wand. "I swear some people are more rubbish than I am."
CLUNK. The lock clicked open. The truck's rear doors swung open, revealing a rusted metal hopper. Professor Burbage stepped onto it and motioned for Anthony to do the same.
"This is novel," Anthony muttered. Professor Burbage just smiled.
The moment they were both on, the hopper began to rise—up—up—Anthony felt like a bin being tipped over, followed by a sensation of weightlessness. He was dizzy, unsure if he'd actually been dumped out.
The next second, however, his feet landed on solid metal plating. They seemed to be inside the rubbish truck. No windows. Just magical, floating orbs of light illuminating white-painted metal walls.
Professor Burbage stood beside him, shaking hands with a short, round-bellied wizard. "Knew you'd be late, Woodchuck. Woodchuck, this is Henry Anthony. Henry, William Woodchuck." She gestured to a long-haired wizard nearby. "And this is the other William. William Walker. Evelyn, you've met." Evelyn, a witch with light brown hair, hugged Professor Burbage warmly.
"Yes, on your reports," Evelyn said, nodding to Professor Burbage before turning to Anthony and offering her hand. "But I don't believe I've introduced myself. Evelyn Avery."
Anthony shook it. "I've read your book, Madam Avery."
"Call me Evelyn, if you don't mind me calling you Henry," Evelyn said. Anthony remembered seeing the author's name and wondering if she was connected to the pure-blood Avery family, but he didn't think it was his place to ask.
Just then, the compartment shuddered. With a groan of metal, they began to move.
"Oh—" Anthony said softly.
"You didn't think this was the symposium venue, did you, Henry?" Professor Burbage laughed. "We're on the express train to the meeting."
"The express rubbish truck," Woodchuck clarified.
"No," Anthony said. "I just feel like a prisoner. Or someone who's been kidnapped. I have no idea where I'm going."
Walker explained, "The castle has Anti-Apparition wards and isn't connected to the Floo Network. Furthermore, Madam Durand, the owner, prefers to ensure no one knows its exact location."
…
After they disembarked, Anthony saw the rubbish truck was pulled by seven stout little horses. Once the witches and wizards were out, the horses stood watching them, occasionally shaking their heads and flicking their ears, making the bells on their necks jingle. Behind them was a small stream serving as a moat, with a few unclaimed fishing rods scattered on the lawn. At the end of the lawn stood a small castle with tightly shut iron gates, surrounded by dark, twisted trees.
Amidst the jingling bells, the gates slowly swung open. Anthony followed Professor Burbage through a corridor hung with plastic bags and tin cans and into the main hall.
"Wow," Anthony said.
It was the most bizarre decor he had ever seen. The grand hall, with its ornate floor tiles, was chaotically filled with motorcycles of various makes, their handlebars entwined with wreaths woven from yellow and green electrical wires. A spiral staircase was piled high with ticket machines and arcade cabinets. A traffic light stood where a grandfather clock should have been. The corridors leading off to the sides were sealed with concrete and sprayed with illegible graffiti.
"Madam Durand is… eccentric," Professor Burbage told Anthony. "But she's the Muggle Studies Society's biggest patron. Provides untold funds to Societies in different countries every year. The Durand family has always been known for its wealth, they've just kept a low profile for generations. Few have ever been as openly supportive of a particular ideology as Madam Durand."
In a corner, Anthony spotted a miniature brass Statue of Liberty holding an ice cream cone, next to a replica of Duchamp's Fountain. Judging by the color of the ice cream, it was probably strawberry.
"No one knows where the Durand money comes from. Some say there's a gold mine under her castle. Others say her ancestors had dealings with Goblins and extracted treasures from those tight-fisted creatures, which is why they've always hidden the castle's location," Professor Burbage said. "Come on, let's get some dessert."
So Anthony and Professor Burbage squeezed between the tires of two motorcycles, skirted a television set in a glass display case, and arrived at two long tables laden with food. The nearest table held rows of gleaming goblets. Whenever someone took one, a new goblet would magically appear on the white tablecloth, automatically filling with either a dark or pale yellow liquid.
The wall behind the tables was plastered with black-and-white printouts of Harlequin's Carnival. Menus streamed continuously from a fax machine. Witches and wizards kept greeting Professor Burbage, asking how she was and why she hadn't been at the afternoon symposium. Behind them, Evelyn and Walker were arguing.
"Dessert won't be up for a bit," Woodchuck said cheerfully. "Stop arguing, Evelyn. Try the sliders and the octopus salad."
Just then, a woman approached, holding a goblet aloft. She wore a leather jacket, jeans, a huge hat adorned with feathers, and had a lip piercing.
"Oh, you're here!" she announced loudly. "Walker! Loved your report this afternoon about Muggles destroying wizardkind! I'll definitely—hic—spice up your research grant! A thousand Galleons!"
"Thank you, Madam Durand," Walker said quickly.
Professor Burbage gave a quiet snort beside Anthony.
"No, on second thought… make it five hundred," Madam Durand said, squinting slightly. "Onwards together! We can shake the wizarding world, Muggle-ists! To quote Grindelwald—For the Greater Good! Cheers!"
"Cheers!" the witches and wizards around her chorused, raising their glasses. Walker hastily grabbed a goblet and echoed, "Cheers!"
"Woodchuck, eat up," Madam Durand continued. "Charity, didn't see you this afternoon. No matter. Never understood your reports anyway. Nice necklace, Evelyn."
"Thank you, Madam Durand," Evelyn said politely.
"You're new, aren't you?" Madam Durand said to Anthony. "Never seen you before. Were you at the afternoon symposium?"
"No, Madam Durand," Anthony said.
"Professor Anthony teaches Muggle Studies at Hogwarts," Woodchuck supplied.
"Oh, they fired you after all, Charity?" Madam Durand said. "Don't be disheartened. Muggles have better schools—hic—you could try for a teaching post there."
"No, no," Anthony said. "Charity is still a professor at Hogwarts. And I know you're busy, Charity, but don't you dare think about resigning. I couldn't handle everything on my own."
"I think you're doing quite well," Professor Burbage said.
"Hogwarts hired two Muggle Studies professors?" Madam Durand said, astonished. "Not bad. I thought British wizards were all stubborn old fossils. You're much better than Durmstrang. I think—hic—Durmstrang will definitely be eclipsed by Hogwarts. Future historians will look at the Triwizard Tournament records and wonder how Durmstrang's name ever stood beside Hogwarts's. I like your shoes. Good taste."
"Er… thank you," Anthony said.
"Alright, welcome. What was your name again? Oh, right. Welcome, Henry." Madam Durand raised her goblet again. "Welcome to the most stylish, most rebellious organization in the wizarding world! Let the cry of Muggle-ism echo through our world, resonate in the hearts of every youth yearning for a new life! War on the old guard! Cheers!"
Her gaze burned into him. Anthony had no choice but to pick up a nearby goblet and clink it lightly against hers. "Cheers."
He took a sip. It was cola.
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