Anthony dismissed class with a smile and told students to think carefully. Next class, they'd give him their choices.
"Remember to discuss with your families too," he instructed. "I'll send your guardians a letter. Only when they reply with consent can you participate."
Before he'd fully left the corridor, he heard tables scraping in the classroom behind him. Everyone was asking friends which project they planned to choose. The torches in the corridor flickered from the commotion.
Anthony smiled and headed to his office to drop something off before going to the library to file records.
Though Professor McGonagall had already agreed and he'd prepared for ages, there was still so much to do: notify parents, arrange safety measures, inform venue managers of approximate numbers, coordinate visit times, confirm they could buy adjacent train seats, and so on.
"You're just making work for yourself," Professor Burbage had said disapprovingly when first hearing his plan.
Anthony nodded. "Like Pomona teaching four theory Herbology classes in a row, or like you deciding to have upper years try cooking shepherd's pie."
Professor Burbage thought about it and smiled helplessly. "All right, every professor probably makes some trouble for themselves."
After drafting the parent letter and student guidelines, Anthony stretched and decided to find a book from the shelf to relax.
He opened his notebook and realized he'd accumulated so many projects: tracking the Basilisk's whereabouts, disguising the chicken, and Dumbledore's research assignment—"What might someone wanting resurrection do?"
However, whichever he wanted to research today, this afternoon he'd clearly be haunting the Restricted Section. Even when first joining the school, he'd warned himself countless times not to show curiosity beyond his responsibilities—he was curious what was in the third-floor corridor, but never investigated, never even approached—now he increasingly resembled a Dark wizard with ulterior motives infiltrating the school.
Look at his borrowing list. Someone ignorant of the truth would think he wanted to resurrect a monster. Someone as wise as the Ministry would think he wanted to kill everyone at school.
Anthony was somewhat surprised yet pleased to encounter Professor Quirrell by the magical creatures shelf in the Restricted Section.
"Happy New Year, Professor Quirrell," he greeted.
Quirrell looked at him nervously. "H-Happy New Year, Professor Anthony." His hands were behind his back. Anthony couldn't see what book he was reading.
Anthony gestured for him not to mind and browsed the shelf titles while chatting. "Thanks for the book you sent. It helped me a lot."
The biggest help was making a bear appear in his kitchen.
"My pl-pleasure," Quirrell said. "Thank you for the c-calming tea and cufflinks."
Anthony said sincerely, "Nothing compared to your help, Professor Quirrell."
He found a book called Where Large Magical Creatures Are and pulled it from the shelf. If a Basilisk's eyes were described by Myrtle as "frighteningly huge," one could safely assume it was indeed a large magical creature.
Quirrell watched him take the book, expression odd. He asked, "Does your r-research require m-magical creatures?"
Anthony thought carefully. He really hadn't considered magical creatures' applications in resurrection.
"Not currently, but that's a good direction. Let me think... phoenixes?" Anthony suddenly stood up from the shelf. "Right, phoenixes! Thank you, Professor Quirrell!"
Quirrell stammered, "N-no need to th-thank me."
Anthony wrote "Fawkes" in his notes and reminded himself to consult Dumbledore, Hogwarts's phoenix expert.
How had he not thought of it? This creature that rose from ashes was practically synonymous with "resurrection," constantly experiencing death yet constantly reappearing in the world intact.
Of course, Anthony didn't expect to actually study Fawkes. He just hoped for some inspiration. Did phoenixes not have souls? Death just let them come and go—incredible that they didn't become some undead great bird.
Not only didn't they become undead great birds, phoenixes became warriors of life instead.
That scarlet-gold bird didn't seem to like Anthony much. The few times he attended meetings in the Headmaster's office, Fawkes stood on its perch far away, bending its elegant long neck to doze.
Though Dumbledore once noticed the longing in his eyes, smiled, and let him approach.
"Fawkes doesn't peck people," Dumbledore said. "At least not much. Sometimes when it just wakes up, it finds my beard tempting."
The phoenix seemed to know what Dumbledore was saying. It lifted its head from under its wing and watched Dumbledore quietly.
"All right, all right, I'd made it angry then," Dumbledore admitted.
Anthony found the information he wanted in Where Large Magical Creatures Are.
The book said that as Hagrid's handling showed, this monster born from rooster eggs and hatched by toads greatly feared rooster crows—crowing was lethal to it. But if it fell into long sleep, it didn't need food and wouldn't die from rooster crows.
"Records show a Basilisk rarely enters deep sleep naturally," the book stated. "On the other hand, a sleeping Basilisk is no different from a hibernating snake—aggression greatly reduced, little danger to wizards."
The text referenced another source supposedly recording predecessors' experiences breeding these creatures in more detail, and how they were defeated by magical creatures and killed by the monsters they raised.
Anthony looked at the title. Adorable Big Friends.
He wondered if anyone had ever given Hagrid this book for Christmas.
However, using the variant Summoning Charm the Flourish and Blotts clerk taught him, neither the Restricted Section nor public areas seemed to have this dangerous book with a bedtime-story-like title.
Once again, Madam Pince remembered the library should have this book.
"I'll catch that thief," she said fiercely, feather duster angrily sweeping the shelves. "Stealing books! I tell you, Professor Anthony, this thief is in trouble. This person definitely doesn't have Restricted Section access... Filch told me many students were wandering the castle at night during Christmas... maybe that's when, while dutiful old Filch couldn't be everywhere..."
She muttered to herself, thinking. Anthony wished her luck and quietly left.
This Christmas holiday, he'd let at least three couples go before going home. But he didn't think they'd come to the Restricted Section for dates... hopefully.
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