Amid applause, whistles and cheers, Anthony saw Dumbledore smile with relief. The young Seeker was surrounded by his teammates and friends, held the Golden Snitch high, and grinned widely. That flapping golden little thing was perfectly docile in his hand. Snape slowly descended and spat hatefully on the ground.
Dumbledore stood up and walked toward the stands below. Anthony struggled through celebrating spectators beside him, passed through gloomy Slytherins, and called, "Headmaster, wait—"
Dumbledore turned around somewhat surprised. "Henry? What is it?"
"I wanted to know if you've been free recently. I need your help," Anthony said, catching up with Dumbledore and walking back to the castle with him. He needed Dumbledore's wisdom to research the Wraith Chicken's relocation. "I sent you a letter, but no reply—"
Dumbledore said, "I apologize. Fawkes must have burned it. The Ministry and school governors sent some letters that angered him. Before I discovered it, he'd already made my fireplace burn brightly for me."
"I hope this didn't cause you too much trouble, Professor."
"Not at all," Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling with cheerful light. "Nobody mentioned those letters. I still don't know what they wrote. And truly important matters—like you, Henry—will appear before me themselves." He glanced at the sky. "Unless you want to invite me on a seaside vacation, we can go to my office now. I have at least two hours of free time... I hope you don't mind me enjoying afternoon tea while talking with you? Don't mind? Excellent."
Ten minutes later, Anthony was already sitting in that comfortable chair in Dumbledore's office.
He held a cup of plain black tea and watched Dumbledore toss a lemon slice into his teacup and add seven teaspoons of honey. The spoon clinked pleasantly against the cup wall. Fawkes stood on the Headmaster's cabinet, preened his feathers, beautiful enough to make Anthony dizzy.
"Tell me about that letter Fawkes burned," Dumbledore said, pushing a stack of biscuits toward him. "What can I do for you, Henry?"
"Um... I have a pet," Anthony said, dipping the biscuit into his tea. The biscuit gave off a familiar aroma. This must be Professor Sprout's Christmas gift to Dumbledore.
"I noticed," Dumbledore said gently. "It looks no different from a real cat now. What are you worried about?"
Anthony shook his head. "Not the cat. Precisely speaking, I have two pets. Besides the cat, I also raise a chicken."
"Ah, excellent choice," Dumbledore commented. "If not for Fawkes, I'd very much want a chicken too."
Fawkes raised his head from his feathers and made a soft call.
Anthony said, "But it's a Wraith Chicken. It can fly, crow, tilt its head to look at people, and it's better than a live chicken because it doesn't need food and doesn't shed. The only problem is it can't leave its summoning place, and it's transparent."
Dumbledore pondered. "I see... You want to bring it over, right?"
"Right," Anthony said. "On the other hand, I think disguising a wraith might be an interesting project for you too. Remember that resurrection research? Wraiths are very similar to souls—not exactly the same, but very close—if someone wanted resurrection, they might want to create their own body. That's what I plan to do for the chicken."
He spread open his notebook and showed Dumbledore. The left side was thoughts on resurrection, the right side was the Wraith Chicken's disguise plan. Among various colored notes, a "just make one" hastily written in dark blue ink was circled and connected by an arrow crossing the entire page linking both topics.
"I researched a lot. Plenty involves soul research, but pitifully little about bodies," Anthony said, gesturing at his notes. "Stealing souls back from death is just the first step. To truly resurrect, a body is essential. People seem stuck at the first step with no time to think what to do after the soul returns. I didn't find suitable books in the library, so..."
Three underlined lines in the notebook: "Soul, body, put together."
Dumbledore set down his teacup and gazed at Anthony through half-moon spectacles. "You truly understand what you're saying, right? You're not just proposing to snatch souls from death's hands, Henry. Now you want to monopolize creation belonging to life too."
Anthony thought for a moment. "No, I didn't think of that. I just want to make a chicken... I can't use a real chicken because of rejection reactions and such, and wraiths aren't real souls."
"Wraiths aren't real souls?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"No," Anthony said with certainty. "It's not a chicken that truly existed once, but closer to... how to say, a spiritual entity composed of all chickens that existed in the community. Maybe one chicken wanted a beautiful red comb, another wanted impressive tail feathers, another wanted to fly, but anyway they all wanted to be lively chickens, thus my pet. So at least from this angle, I'm not snatching souls from death."
He summarized, "Rather than saying I raise a chicken, better to say I raise a flock of chickens' wishes."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. I'm starting to wonder what wishes I'll leave after death." He sighed. "But please don't tire of an old man's warning, Henry. As far as I know, bodies are no simpler than souls. Life is as stingy as death."
"Seems I'm the exceptionally lucky one," Anthony said. "Death has been quite generous to me." Sometimes too generous.
Dumbledore said quietly, "You truly are."
"Then if I hope life is equally generous to me, is that somewhat greedy?"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly. "Ah, greed. Few can escape its curse... especially involving life and death... I must remain honest, Henry. I'm not very optimistic about your relationship with life. But I always welcome the next miracle."
Even though he vaguely felt it himself, Anthony was still somewhat surprised by Dumbledore's certain tone. His confusion must have shown in his expression, because Dumbledore laughed.
The Headmaster pointed at the beautiful large bird overhead. "Phoenix, Henry, is pure life. I'm very, very pleased you like Fawkes so much—even though he doesn't like you at all."
Anthony sighed gloomily. "You don't need to say it so hurtfully."
He really did like phoenixes. If he didn't already have the Wraith Chicken, he'd really want a phoenix.
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