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When everyone's stomachs were stuffed with chips and pork chops, Anthony had learned the entire story from beginning to end from the kitchen house-elves.
Including how the Weasley brothers used an abandoned bathroom for "inventions and creations," and how they'd received help from house-elves while sneaking into the kitchen, finding a magical room.
"We use it to store miscellaneous items," the house-elf said, tennis ball-like eyes shining with pride. "For hundreds of years, we've placed items forgotten by their masters or that shouldn't appear in the school inside. If the owner truly wants to find it back, they can recover it when wandering melancholically. Of course, a bit of luck is needed too."
"You're doing experiments in a storage room?" Anthony frowned. This didn't sound very safe.
When the house-elf proudly told Anthony they were discussing a room called the "Room of Requirement," the Weasley twins collapsed defeatedly on the table, playing dead.
"I shouldn't have come for this meal," Fred said. "Don't tell anyone, Professor. We can... give you a discount."
"Twenty percent off," George said.
Anthony remained noncommittal.
Fred raised the stakes. "Forty percent off."
George raised them. "Fifty percent off."
Fred stared wide-eyed at George. "Can't go cheaper! Any cheaper and we lose money!"
George said through gritted teeth, "Don't stop me. Today, even if I lose money, I'll let our dearest Professor Anthony enjoy the best price!"
Anthony laughed and raised his hand. "Don't worry. I'm not your Head of House. Private student transactions aren't my concern. Just make sure you guarantee your own and your classmates' safety... don't sell dangerous contraband, and don't do experiments in the storage room, all right?"
"Of course not!" the Weasley brothers promised. "We're just selling Chocolate Frog cards. Besides, that room is very safe. When we use it, it's not a storage room."
They told Anthony the magical room was called the "Room of Requirement" because it did its utmost to fulfill explorers' requests. It could completely transform into the most well-protected laboratory people could imagine.
"I think it's probably the most magical place in the entire castle," Fred said. "The first time we encountered it, we were hiding from Filch. It just suddenly appeared."
George added, "It looked like a broom cupboard then."
Anthony asked curiously, "Can the brooms inside be brought out?"
"If someone else put them in, probably yes," Fred said thoughtfully. "If the room transfigured them, then no."
Anthony said with amusement, "Sounds like you've tried."
Lee Jordan said, "Professor, you don't know what they've tried to bring out."
"As soon as you dare say it, I'll fill your wardrobe with Pygmy Puffs," Fred threatened.
His friend quickly surrendered, while Anthony asked with a smile, "Where did you get Pygmy Puffs, Mr. Weasley?"
When Anthony handed an entire bag of Pygmy Puff eggs to Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows didn't move at all.
"Weasleys, isn't it?" she asked matter-of-factly. "How many points deducted?"
Anthony shook his head. "I didn't deduct points. They promised me they'd pass all subjects this term... uh, except History of Magic and Astronomy."
Professor McGonagall opened the bag to look. "I look forward to their Divination grades. Was Lee Jordan with them?"
"...Yes."
"I very much look forward to it," Professor McGonagall said.
In the blink of an eye, it was the weekend. Sunshine illuminated the entire Quidditch pitch. The stands were packed. Players made final preparations in the changing rooms. When Anthony emerged from his office, he happened to encounter Professor Quirrell also heading to watch the match.
"Professor Quirrell is also interested in Quidditch?" Anthony made small talk.
He found it hard to imagine Quirrell riding a broom in high spirits. This pale-faced wizard who seemed ready to faint at any moment—both his arms weren't as thick as a single broomstick.
Quirrell steadied his turban, saying frantically, "Yes, I—I'm interested."
"Which team do you support?" Anthony chatted as they descended the stairs side by side. Quirrell was a Ravenclaw graduate, so asking about his supported team shouldn't be a problem.
Quirrell was silent for a while, then answered in a trembling whisper, "Gry—Gryffindor."
"Ah, me too," Anthony said cheerfully. "I heard Gryffindor is the strongest Quidditch house team. Though Slytherin's playing style... I've heard about it too. I hope Gryffindor can beat them fair and square."
"Yes, yes," Quirrell said.
Upon reaching the pitch, Quirrell parted ways with him.
Anthony didn't bother searching for Professor McGonagall, who'd invited him. He just tried to find an empty seat. She'd told him in advance she needed to supervise the match commentator Jordan at the commentary box, "in case he says something strange again."
"Of course, I'm not saying his words don't have their own logic," Professor McGonagall had said when Anthony asked why she didn't change commentators. "Just sometimes too subjective. And students like him."
Anthony suspected she actually quite liked him too.
"Over here, Henry!" Hagrid waved at him from the highest row of the stands.
Anthony nodded at him and squeezed through the crowd with difficulty. On the last few steps, Hagrid pulled him up. "Oh, thank you. More people than I imagined."
"This is Gryffindor! Every Gryffindor versus Slytherin match has the most spectators," Hagrid said proudly. "I originally planned to watch from the hut, but thought you might need a commentator. Gryffindor matches are always the highest level, not to mention Harry's playing this time, right?"
He directed that last sentence to those beside him.
Only then did Anthony discover Hagrid was surrounded by a group of Gryffindor first-years: red-haired Ron, Seamus who'd copied essays with Ron, Hermione bundled up tightly, Neville clutching a toad and smiling at him, and a student he didn't recognize, squeezed together with them holding a very large sheet.
Anthony looked twice at that dirty sheet. He'd heard students discussing in class, thinking people needed to follow Harry Potter with mattresses to prevent him from falling to his death. Could someone really be putting this into practice?
"Harry! Harry's coming out!" the student holding the sheet shouted, suddenly shaking it open, nearly hitting Neville's face. Ron quickly grabbed the other end, holding it high.
Anthony stepped back slightly and saw it bore huge words reading "Potter for Victory." There was also a Gryffindor lion, looking majestically outside the banner. Cold wind made the banner flutter.
"They made it themselves?" Anthony asked Hagrid quietly.
"Of course. They're Harry's friends," Hagrid said, watching the small red-robed Seeker walk onto the Quidditch pitch. He pumped his fist hard. "Go, Harry! Show those scoundrels what you're made of!"
Anthony saw the small-framed player glance this way, showing his friends a huge smile.
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