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Moonlight quietly fell on the corridor. Anthony took a deep breath of fresh air and looked back at Quirrell climbing up the rope. Quirrell's robes had been cleaned but his forehead and turban still bore mud—he insisted on not using Scourgify on his head.
Anthony completely understood, just somewhat surprised Quirrell also had this feeling... Except for specific spells, most magic didn't care what body part it hit—to them, head and foot had equal importance.
He was working hard to learn viewing problems like a wizard, but his Muggle brain often had deeply ingrained thinking patterns—for example, pointing a wand at the head was more dangerous than pointing at the foot.
"Quite a long night... Let's go back," Anthony said quietly and restrained himself from coveting others' souls. Unlike the Basilisk, humans were outside his touching range—not because he didn't want to eat something more delicious, purely for himself.
Out of fear of losing control, he never allowed himself to spy on living souls, so normally couldn't perceive any souls at all. Like he once told Skeleton Cat, he always tightly closed his eyes and held his breath, refused those tempting foods... Because humans shouldn't eat humans.
Though bland as unsalted meat, the Basilisk's soul still made him feel quite satisfied. He needed somewhere to digest properly and urgently wanted to return to his office.
He hoped when returning to his office, his cat would already be there. He needed it—needed to introduce the Wraith Mouse to it and also needed it to remind himself he was human.
Quirrell said, "Are—are you all right, Professor Anthony?"
Anthony gripped his wand tightly. Light trembled at his wand tip but was quite stable.
Moonlight was bright and they didn't need magic to illuminate the path, but Anthony relied on it to remind himself—he must never slide into Necromancy's abyss...
"Pro—Professor Anthony?" Professor Quirrell stammered questioningly and reached out as if wanting to push him.
Anthony immediately knocked his hand away, then realized what he'd just done. He closed his eyes and confirmed his condition was acceptable.
"Sorry," Anthony shook his head and smiled. "I think I'm a bit frightened."
Quirrell looked at him with concealed worry. Anthony knew why.
After swallowing the Basilisk, he had almost no body temperature left.
The cold wind brushed lightly and brought soft hooting from the distant Owlery. Anthony asked, "What about you, Professor Quirrell? Are you all right?"
He remembered Professor Quirrell was extremely nervous before facing the Basilisk, so nervous he found it strange... But he had no energy to explore these now... His head was dizzy, uncomfortably stuffed...
"I—I'm fine," Quirrell said. "I guess this is—is a good ending." He laughed nervously.
Anthony couldn't help smiling and said affirmatively, "Yes, this is a good ending."
The Basilisk was dealt with, Quirrell was fine, he had an extra pet... Also, Snape got a dead Basilisk. Everyone was quite satisfied.
Before opening the office door, Anthony reminded, "Hospital Wing, Professor Quirrell. We're employees and have the right to use these... employee benefits..." He shook his head, too lazy to manage Quirrell anymore. "See you tomorrow."
"See—see you tomorrow," Quirrell said. "Also, tha—thank you."
Under the waxing moon's radiance, his face was exceptionally pale.
Finally, Anthony stepped through the office door. The room's light was warm and peaceful and the window reflected the somewhat messy desk, just like he saw every time he returned.
He breathed slightly easier, locked the door, and collapsed on the floor—didn't even bother moving himself to the bedroom.
He was dizzy, floating, like drunk... He seemed to spread himself out and liberated from the cramped shell... He wound past the Daily Prophet tossed by the desk, climbed onto his desk, and comfortably flowed into the porcelain cup with a bit of tea left...
Suddenly, everything overturned.
He floated in a black river... No, he was part of this river. Like his countless nightmares, he drifted silently and dissolved in these flowing solids. Waves surged but here was dead silent.
He just drifted like this, drifted, heart incomparably peaceful, and knew the end would have a waterfall. Below the waterfall, everything was unknown, but he would always reach there. In fact, part of him had already flowed down because he was the river—he filled the river and the river also filled him...
Then the scene changed again.
He was no longer the pitch-black river but in a clear clean lake. The girl he pushed to shore lay unconscious and the person originally standing on shore watching her struggle now watched his struggle instead.
But he didn't know why he couldn't float up—he shouldn't be unable to float, he learned swimming and also learned correct rescue methods...
White light filled his vision.
Then he realized this was because his friend was grinning and waving a mirror at his eyes. Seeing he discovered it, his friend proudly showed him the mirror taken from Mom's makeup bag. For fun—they claimed to test reflection the teacher taught in class—they seriously drew angles and held mirrors standing at different distances.
A small pebble appeared by his friend's feet. His friend laughed playfully and waved the mirror... The water surface sparkled, the sun was warm... Anthony dropped the cardboard in his hand and ran to the lakeside... He reached out and only regretted his height wasn't enough, his arms weren't long enough, he couldn't catch... He loudly called for help and shouted, but no one heard...
Suddenly, a crying man collapsed before him.
Anthony recognized him. This was Mr. Wright who handled various scattered community affairs or something like that. Anthony didn't know what role Mr. Wright actually played in the community.
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