It took Anthony a while to realize why he'd become the go-to professor for gossip: student rumors were chaotic, Madam Hooch was outside dealing with players stranded mid-match, Snape claimed he had "pressing work" before vanishing, and Professor Flitwick had left his office early to comfort students in the Ravenclaw common room.
Looking around Hogwarts, Anthony seemed to be the only idle professor.
Anthony cautiously opened his door. Peered left and right down the empty corridor. Turned back. Scooped up the cat playing with sofa tassels. Stuffed the now-awake mouse—sitting dazed in the corner—into his pocket.
"Come on. Let's take a walk," he said.
The mouse curiously pawed at his pocket. Poked its head out. Sniffed the air. Anthony rubbed its head with his fingertip. Carried the cat down the staff staircase. Strode through the noisy Great Hall. Tried not to look like he was fleeing the castle.
On this mild afternoon, everything outside thrived. Along the Black Lake path, up to the forest by the mountains, tiny yellow and blue flowers bloomed everywhere. Insects buzzed through lakeside grass. A few pet toads squatted nearby. Occasionally snapping up a meal. Anthony watched them. Couldn't tell them apart. Wondered if Neville's Trevor was among them.
Students returning from Hogsmeade walked the other path. Laughing loudly. Oblivious to the excited, secretive rumors swirling inside the castle. Anthony took the quiet route toward the far side of the Black Lake. Talked to the cat as he walked: "Did you scratch Professor Quirrell while I was away? That's not good. Now I don't dare let you out alone..."
The cat stared at him with yellow eyes. Finally bit his ear impatiently.
"Just told you to break that habit." Anthony tilted his head. Smiled. The cat hadn't bitten hard. Just rested its head against his neck. Soft. Ticklish.
Seeing no one around, Anthony set down the cat and mouse. Gazed at the vast lake. Walked slowly forward.
Even on a rare sunny day, when wind carried moisture across the Black Lake's shaded side, it felt cold and damp. Waves splashed against rocks. Sprayed the narrow path. Made it slippery. Probably why students usually gathered on the other side. Where warm sunlight made the cold water sparkle gold.
Just as he enjoyed the quiet, Anthony spotted three small figures ahead. Harry Potter's dejected voice drifted over: "...treating me like a monster."
"That's only because Parseltongue has historically been associated with Dark wizards," Ron said worriedly. "And honestly, it did sound like you wanted the snake to strangle Davies or something... Hey, we know you didn't mean it, okay? I'm just saying how it sounded."
Hermione said: "Harry, people will forget about this in two days. They'll move on to someone's new relationship. They always do."
"I know, it's just..." Harry said. Then saw the cat walking toward them. Tail high. Jumped onto the opposite railing. Passed the three Gryffindors with a "don't touch me" expression.
"Professor Anthony?" Hermione said. Turned toward where Anthony was approaching.
Anthony followed behind the mouse: "Good afternoon, Miss Granger. I'm guessing you're also out here for reasons that don't involve staying in the castle?"
The boy who spoke Parseltongue tossed a stone into the Black Lake: "Yeah, because I'm about to eat all my classmates."
"Quite an appetite you have." Anthony stopped beside him. Looked toward the tall castle and its distorted reflection in the water. "Want to talk about it, Mr. Potter?"
"Professor, I didn't!" Harry whipped around. His voice carried hurt and anger. "I had no idea what was happening! I mean, I know now that being able to talk to snakes is... abnormal, but I absolutely didn't tell that snake to attack Davies..."
Anthony raised his hand soothingly: "Potter, no one thinks you told the snake to attack Davies."
"No?" Harry's voice dropped. "You should see my classmates, Professor Anthony. Even Ron—" Ron protested loudly "I didn't!" but Harry continued, "—said I sounded like I was encouraging the snake to do something bad."
Anthony had to be fair: "Well... it did sound like that." He saw Harry's expression. Quickly added: "But look at what happened: the snake was attacking Mr. Davies, you spoke to the snake, the snake released Davies. I don't think it's difficult to conclude 'Potter told the snake to release Davies.'"
"See? What did I tell you?" Hermione said to Harry. Anthony guessed she'd said something similar before.
Harry said worriedly: "They think it was because Professor Flitwick did something."
"All right." Anthony said. "But either way, you didn't actually do anything wrong. Your classmates will figure out the truth eventually. Then you can tell them, 'What did I tell you?'"
Harry looked up at him briefly. Dropped his head again. Stared silently at the bottomless Black Lake.
"I believe you, Potter," Anthony said gently. "Unless you give me a reason not to, I'm going to follow the simplest logical path here. Davies is a smart student. When he wakes up, I'm sure he'll thank you too."
He didn't mention that Davies probably hadn't even heard Harry speaking to the snake. When you stopped remembering the evil hissing, it all became very clear.
Harry managed a weak smile: "Thank you, Professor."
When Anthony returned from his walk, he ran into Professor McGonagall on the staff staircase. He chatted with her about how Potter seemed to be under suspicion from his classmates—Anthony found it hard to understand why anyone would suspect Harry, as he had no motive to harm Roger—and McGonagall told him she'd already notified Dumbledore. The Headmaster would return as soon as possible.
Though from the letter, Dumbledore apparently didn't understand why Harry was a Parselmouth either ("Albus doesn't recall any blood connection between the Potter family and Slytherin"), McGonagall believed he could at least calm the swirling rumors.
"The Headmaster's away from school again?" Anthony asked.
McGonagall nodded: "Yes. I really should suggest he attend every Quidditch match... Durmstrang proposed opening Dark Arts research exchanges. Albus had a meeting today." Her emphasis fell unconsciously on "had," making Anthony look at her twice.
"Weren't there meetings before?" Anthony asked.
McGonagall said: "Don't try to guess Albus's schedule, Henry. You'll find he's never at school, yet always at school."
But by dinner, Dumbledore still hadn't appeared. Professor Flitwick and Snape also didn't attend dinner in the Great Hall. Thanks to McGonagall's stern expression and students at various tables occasionally checking professors' faces while whispering, Anthony didn't lose his appetite for fried chicken legs from overly curious inquiries.
Even Filch asked Anthony in a low voice when Potter would be expelled. Before Anthony could speak, McGonagall made it very clear to Filch that even if she herself were expelled, she wouldn't allow a student to be forced to leave school over "utter nonsense." She kindly suggested Filch drop the subject.
Filch wasn't the only one who thought Harry would be expelled. At least Professor Trelawney stood on his side.
"I saw a giant serpent coiled around each of our heads," she said mysteriously. "The Grim follows one person closely, coming to the school... It's a boy. I saw it. He's a boy."
"Try this carrot, Sybill," Professor Sprout said kindly.
Anthony noticed Harry and his friends weren't at the Gryffindor table.
As he left, Anthony heard some Hufflepuff students discussing the matter. They thought Harry hadn't come to dinner because he was plotting to send other Quidditch team players to the Hospital Wing one by one, so Gryffindor could win the Quidditch Cup. Thousands of snakes would soon pour from the Slytherin dungeons. Each one big enough to swallow a Flint whole.
"Slytherin cheated their way to a draw. Potter must be furious," one said.
"But what did Davies do?" someone countered. "Potter should've had the snake attack Flint."
"Do the math. If Ravenclaw wins, it's bad for Gryffindor," said the student who'd brought Quidditch Cup calculations into the Parseltongue discussion.
Another person leaned in: "Maybe Potter wanted the snake to attack Flint. Maybe that's what he told the snake, so it released Davies. If not for Professor Flitwick's spell, we might be attending Flint's funeral."
Someone else said: "I don't think Flint's funeral would invite us." The topic quickly shifted from Harry Potter's Parseltongue to Slytherin pure-blood family funerals.
Anthony was trying to find the tracking collar he'd made for his cat when someone knocked on his office door.
"Come in!" he called. Flicked his wand to open the door.
To his surprise, Harry Potter stood outside. Anthony checked the time: over an hour until curfew.
"Mr. Potter?"
Harry stared at the striped teapot and stacked parchments on Anthony's desk. Said somewhat uncomfortably: "Professor Anthony, Professor Dumbledore isn't at school, Professor McGonagall is supervising detention... um... Neville suggested I talk to you, and Hermione made me promise I'd come..."
Anthony quickly ushered him in.
"Sit, Potter." He pushed a chair toward Harry. "Um... milk, pumpkin juice, or hot chocolate?" He hadn't expected this at all—what had he done to become a substitute for Dumbledore or McGonagall?
"No need, Professor." Harry said. Stood as relaxed as possible in the office. "I just—could I—do you know the password to the Headmaster's office?"
Anthony said: "If Professor Dumbledore isn't at school, I doubt visiting the Headmaster's office will actually help you."
"I..." Harry hesitated. "I heard the Sorting Hat is in the Headmaster's office."
Anthony thought back. He'd visited the Headmaster's office several times. Each time either dealing with headache-inducing matters or completely distracted by Fawkes's dazzling presence. Couldn't remember if there was a hat there at all.
He asked: "What do you want with the Sorting Hat?" He poured two cups of tea from the teapot. Put one by Harry's hand. Picked up the other and took a sip. Harry hesitated. Finally picked up the teacup. Took a small sip. Slowly sat down.
"I just want to find it," Harry said stubbornly.
"And then?" Anthony asked. Smiled slightly. "Re-sort yourself because you heard other houses have a better chance at the Quidditch Cup?"
Harry laughed. He said: "As long as we work hard, we have a chance at this year's Quidditch Cup."
"Then what are you worried about?" Anthony said. "Sounds like you're quite satisfied with Gryffindor life."
Harry said: "That's exactly why I'm satisfied! Hermione told me that Slytherin's founder was a very famous Parselmouth. He was called the Serpent Speaker... so Slytherin's symbol is a snake..."
"Just because you and Slytherin's founder both speak the same foreign language, you suspect you should've been sorted into his house?" Anthony said. "Relax. I see no logical connection there, Potter."
"People say—I heard—Parseltongue is a Dark wizard's mark, and Hagrid said all wizards who went bad came from Slytherin. So as long as I wasn't sorted into Slytherin, that means I won't go bad in the future, right?" He looked at Anthony hopefully. Expected confirmation.
Now it was Anthony's turn to hesitate. Facing this anxious first-year Gryffindor, he didn't want to launch into a long speech about how the future depends on your choices, how it's hard to define good and bad, how you shouldn't judge good and evil by house.
So Anthony simply said: "Why would you go bad?"
"I don't know. Because I'm already a bad person?" Harry shrugged. Anthony guessed he'd heard things like "Potter only defeated the Dark Lord because he's a bigger Dark Lord." When Anthony studied recent magical history, these conspiracy theories appeared in various pamphlets.
"No one is born bad," Anthony assured him with his twenty-plus years of life experience. "And although I'm not your subject professor, from what I've heard, all your professors think you're a humble, studious, kind, good student."
He saw Harry's delighted but disbelieving expression. Recalled: "In Flying class, didn't you help Mr. Longbottom get his Remembrall back? Your Head of House, Professor McGonagall, was very proud of that. Professor Sprout says you complete your essays very carefully. Professor Flitwick has praised you privately many times. Not to mention Hagrid..."
Harry said: "Actually that was all Hermione... Hermione helped us—Ron and me—check our essays, and she's always the first to complete tasks in class. She's already studied all the questions professors ask..."
Anthony smiled: "See, now I can tell people too. Harry Potter is someone who praises his friends without hesitation."
Just as Harry and Anthony were enjoying Professor Sprout's cookies ("Normally I wouldn't recommend too many midnight snacks, Mr. Potter"), a silly owl crashed into the window that house-elves had polished especially clean. The cat shot out of the bedroom. Jumped onto the windowsill in a few bounds. Swished its tail. Eyed the barn owl predatorily.
He carefully opened the window. Scooped the owl inside. Just as he reached to remove the note from its leg, the creature pecked his hand. The cat immediately pounced to pin it down.
"No." Anthony said disapprovingly. Forcibly lifted the cat's paw. Took down the note. He hadn't even settled accounts for it attacking Professor Quirrell yet.
The moment the cat released it, the owl flapped up. Bounced between the desk and chandelier. Flew circles around Harry.
Harry laughed. Dodged the enthusiastic owl: "Hey, what are you doing?"
Anthony unfolded the note. Glanced at it. Finally understood why the owl wouldn't let him take the letter.
"For you, Potter."
"Me?" Harry asked puzzled. "That's not my owl."
"Your owl probably had other business." Anthony said.
Harry took the small piece of parchment. It was from Hagrid. Inviting Harry to his hut for a chat. Anthony could see this wasn't the news Harry hoped for. Disappointment flashed across his face. He looked down again. Then tucked the note in his pocket.
"Hagrid must be very worried about you," Anthony said. Checked the time again. "But don't go tonight. Tomorrow, Potter. It's almost curfew."
Harry nodded. Anthony stood: "Come on. I'll walk you back to Gryffindor Tower."
"No, no need." Harry quickly refused. "I know the way."
Anthony shook his head: "It's fine. I was just going out to check for students wandering after hours..." He pulled a small box of cookies from his drawer. Pushed it over. Originally meant for students after exams. "Here. Take this. A reward for saving Davies. Not much, but they taste good."
Harry's face reddened. He said somewhat embarrassed: "Even without me, Professor Flitwick..."
"Professor Flitwick having a solution doesn't mean you don't deserve a reward," Anthony said firmly. "All right. Neither of us wants to meet an angry Mrs. Norris, right?"
"Can't we really go to the Headmaster's office, Professor? Just a few minutes. I promise I won't go past curfew... well, not by much." Walking on the ancient stone floor with Anthony, Harry couldn't help bringing it up again.
Firelight illuminated the long corridor. With curfew approaching, the few students around hurried past. Even when they encountered Harry, they just gave him a strange look before rushing on with their books. A knight on a small horse in a portrait wanted to duel Harry the Parselmouth. Anthony politely declined.
Anthony asked puzzled: "Why are you so determined to confirm your house, Potter?"
"I... I don't want to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin or anything..." Harry said. Obviously knew this sounded foolish. "I don't want any connection to Slytherin."
"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Anthony asked.
Harry couldn't help frowning. He complained: "Slytherin is the house that produces Dark wizards. Malfoy always acts superior. Look how he treats Ron, Hermione, and Neville... He goes out of his way to oppose me! And Crabbe and Goyle—they're stupid and mean, helping Malfoy bully classmates."
He took a breath. Continued counting: "Nobody likes Snape. Snape doesn't like anyone either. But he practically hates me! And Voldemort—he killed my parents—he was from Slytherin too."
"Whoa, whoa." Anthony said. "Sounds like you have a grudge against Slytherin."
Harry said: "So, Professor, do you understand? I don't want any connection—even the slightest—to Slytherin!"
"All right, Mr. Potter." Anthony said. "Though I'm concerned your family tree can't be traced back that far, there are a few things I think you should understand."
"First, although natural Parselmouths usually rely on family bloodline inheritance, Slytherin isn't the only documented Parselmouth. If I remember correctly, Herpo the Foul was also a Parselmouth... Well, you can choose whose great-grandson you'd rather be. Or find other Parselmouths."
"Second, even if you really are Slytherin's great-great-great-great-great-grandson, that doesn't mean you share his personality or future fate. Third..." He said seriously, "I know Slytherin has some problems, but they're your classmates. Just don't hate someone simply because they're in Slytherin, okay? Fourth, we can hardly know what happened a thousand years ago. Maybe when Salazar Slytherin founded the house, the students were as enthusiastic and kind as you."
He stated this hypothesis he found unlikely. Couldn't help recalling the basilisk he'd killed. That obviously man-made tunnel required Parseltongue to open. Slytherin himself was a Parselmouth. If it wasn't Potter's ancestors who did it, then Slytherin was highly suspect—on the other hand, maybe Potter's ancestors and Slytherin were the same person.
He found it hard to understand why anyone would think keeping a basilisk at school was a good idea. Then again, he didn't really understand why Hagrid thought letting Acromantulas breed in the Forbidden Forest was a good idea either. But Hogwarts apparently approved.
Perhaps in that distant era, people enjoyed keeping a cute, not-at-all-fluffy big snake. In the age before the Hogwarts Express, maybe students rode basilisks to school.
"I have my doubts," Harry muttered. But seemed more relaxed.
At the Fat Lady's portrait, they saw several couples talking quietly before curfew. Seeing Harry's small figure appear in the corridor, they all startled. Hurriedly said goodnight and left. A couple in the corner was kissing passionately. The girl with disheveled hair only noticed everyone leaving when her classmate reminded her. Blushed. Kissed her boyfriend. Rushed through the portrait hole.
A senior who'd been arguing with his girlfriend—from his intended direction, not a Gryffindor—was trying to make up. Punched the wall in frustration. Said provocatively to Harry: "Hey, Potter! Can you say some more of that hiss-hiss? Do I sound like it, future Dark Lord?"
"Not at all," Harry said loudly. "If I were a snake, I'd pass out hearing such terrible pronunciation."
"Which house are you in?" Anthony asked.
The other person finally noticed a professor behind them. Shrank toward the shadows. Said: "Ravenclaw, uh... Professor?"
For a moment, Anthony heard a small voice in his head. Mimicking Snape: "Ravenclaw pitifully loses five points for not remembering the professor's name." He shook his head. Dismissed this absurd deduction reason. Said to Harry: "Want to demonstrate, Potter?"
"Professor Anthony?" Harry asked questioningly.
"This Ravenclaw gentleman is curious about Parseltongue pronunciation... Honestly, I'm curious too." Anthony smiled. "If you're willing to teach him, I think he'd be happy to learn. Just say 'release him.'"
"Release him," Harry said.
Anthony shook his head: "No, that's English."
"Hiss-hiss release him."
Anthony couldn't help laughing: "That's still English, Mr. Potter. I'm afraid you can't be a snake."
"Release hiss-hiss him—I can't." Harry said frustrated. "Maybe I can only speak Parseltongue when facing an actual snake."
Anthony looked around. Spotted a hair tie someone had dropped in the corner. He picked up the red tie. Concentrated on trying to transfigure it into a snake.
"Well, this'll have to do, Potter," Anthony said. "Forgive me. My Transfiguration really isn't very good."
He wrapped the snake—still with yellow butterfly patterns—around his arm. Harry and the senior Ravenclaw both laughed. Harry said: "Hiss-hiss-hiss-hiss."
Once again, he sounded utterly evil. As if urging the small-eyed snake looking at him gently to sink its cloth fangs into Anthony's finger. The Ravenclaw's face paled. Stepped back.
"That was Parseltongue," Anthony said. "What did you just say, Potter? I honestly didn't understand. Please translate."
"Hiss-hiss—sorry." Harry closed his eyes. Shook his head. "I just said it looks much better than the one at the Slytherin match."
"Ah, thank you for the compliment," Anthony said. Turned to the Ravenclaw: "Did you learn it?"
"No, no," the senior Ravenclaw said. Several students wanting to return to Gryffindor passed them. Also stood outside the portrait watching Harry teach Parseltongue. The Weasley twins had already started trying.
The Fat Lady said disapprovingly: "Are you going in or not?"
"Wait hiss-hiss-hiss a moment," Fred said. Bobbed his head.
"Let's not start with long sentences, Potter," Anthony said. "Try that phrase again. Something simpler. 'Release him.'"
"Hiss-hiss," Harry said.
The phrase still sounded sinister and evil. But Anthony said firmly: "That's right. That's exactly what I heard at the pitch today. Exactly the same."
"I think every sentence sounds the same," the Ravenclaw muttered.
"Maybe because you weren't studying seriously?" Anthony said. Smiled down at Harry. "I think Potter was telling the snake to release Davies. Well done, Mr. Potter. Glad you've mastered a rare foreign language."
"But it's not just a foreign language, Professor Anthony!" a student called. "Historically, all Parselmouths have been Dark wizards!"
"Really?" Anthony asked. Watched Harry nod dejectedly. "Then we might be witnessing history: a Parselmouth who isn't a Dark wizard."
Honestly, as a Dark wizard himself, Anthony saw no connection between Parseltongue and Dark wizards.
When Harry anxiously told him speaking Parseltongue meant he might be a Dark wizard, Anthony couldn't help wondering if Parseltongue was like necromancy. After all, he hadn't thought playing with bones meant he was a Dark wizard either. But unless there was some definition like "magic that lets people communicate with snakes is Dark magic," he didn't understand what was wrong with chatting with non-human creatures.
"But regardless, at least in this case..." Anthony said, "I heard Potter say 'release him.'"
"No, it was 'release hiss-hiss him,'" George corrected.
Fred was sticking out his tongue imitating a snake. Hearing this, immediately withdrew his arm from Lee Jordan's shoulder: "I hiss-hiss understood."
Amid the Fat Lady's annoyed complaints, Gryffindor students climbed through the hole one by one. Anthony reminded the still-dazed Ravenclaw student about curfew. The other person glanced at Harry. Left without a word.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. Looked around. Said quietly, "But I didn't say 'release him' at the time."
Anthony said surprised: "You didn't?" He remembered Harry telling him that before.
Harry said: "At first I did. But later it was 'please release him' and 'thank you.'"
"Oh." Anthony thought about it. Smiled. "I admit I wasn't studying very seriously either." He nudged Harry. "Go on. Don't worry about your foreign language talent, polite Mr. Potter. Right now, eighty or ninety percent of what you're dealing with is because people can't understand what you're saying... just like me."
"All right, Professor," Harry said. Climbed through the open portrait.
Anthony looked at the transfigured hair tie snake—he'd forgotten to have students take this lost item back to the common room—and said: "Release hiss-hiss me."
Then he realized that according to Professor McGonagall's Wulfric theory, this thing was essentially still a hair tie. Whether he said it right or not, it wouldn't actually release him.