When Hagrid announced he wanted to find packaging worthy of The Monster Book of Monsters, Anthony was rescuing his teacup from its gnashing jaws.
The monster book had originally wanted to challenge Dragon Temperatures: From Cold-Blooded to Burned (a prominent warning written on the spine: "Handle with care, do not shake violently"), but the Hungarian Horntail on the cover crouched dangerously at the book's corner. Between its exposed teeth, a ball of fire glowed, ready to strike.
Anthony quickly shoved the teacup between the monster book's wide-open pages. Separated them. This move undoubtedly increased the monster book's interest in him—his hand bones now creaked under its gnawing.
"I suggest you at least tie it up," he said. Looked at the Christmas wrapping paper Hagrid held up—Anthony also had plenty of leftover colored paper and ribbons. Struggled to pull his hand out. "I don't think Professor Kettleburn wants his wooden leg shortened. Especially not by a retirement gift."
Hagrid said dismissively: "You're exaggerating, Henry." He stuck his finger into the book. Made it gag.
When the fierce monster book tried to bite him, it looked like a puppy whose teeth hadn't grown in yet, acting cute. Hagrid laughed: "See?" Then the book snapped shut angrily. "Ha ha, trying to prove you've got a bit of strength, little guy?"
Hagrid pulled his hand out. Not a mark on it. He shoved the monster book under his bed to weigh it down: "Perfect. I'll give Professor Kettleburn a surprise."
Anthony said: "You might as well give him your dragon egg. I guarantee he'd like that too."
"No way, that's mine," Hagrid muttered. Removed the coat blocking the fireplace. Revealed that black, ugly thing among the firewood. It now looked like a large stone covered in coal ash.
Anthony asked worriedly: "Are you sure that's a dragon egg, Hagrid?"
"Of course. I read books." Hagrid patted the tall stack of books by his bedside.
They swayed with his movement. Crashed to the floor with clatters. One book even fell into the fireplace—"Ow!" Hagrid shouted. Reached to pull it out—the dragon egg wobbled. Sparked from the sudden cold air rushing in. Splattered on nearby books. So Anthony and Hagrid watched the book rapidly burn into flying black ash.
Anthony said: "All right. I suppose that really is a dragon egg."
"Yes. Norwegian Ridgeback," Hagrid said almost proudly. "Very rare."
But Anthony reminded him. Since the school housed an elderly professor expert in magical creatures, he needed to hide his dragon egg better. Ensure more people wouldn't discover it.
Under Anthony's questioning, he admitted he'd been putting Anthony off. He still hadn't confessed to Dumbledore about the dragon egg in his room.
Hagrid said shamefully: "I... I don't dare, Henry. Dumbledore's a great man. He provided housing for Aragog. But he'd definitely make me send the egg away—" Anthony glanced at Hagrid. Swallowed his response. "—and he'd definitely be very disappointed in me. Very, very disappointed!"
Anthony still thought Dumbledore probably already knew. Since Hagrid hadn't woken to find a citation stuck on his fireplace, presumably the Headmaster didn't much mind his gamekeeper cultivating small breeding hobbies.
"But Hagrid, this year's Care of Magical Creatures final practical exam is arranged right by the Forbidden Forest," Anthony said. "By then, Professor Kettleburn will definitely come."
"Can't they change locations?" Hagrid said. He stared at the dragon egg. Black eyes reflected the roaring fire. Pondered a while. Then suddenly turned to Anthony.
Looking at his eyes, Anthony felt doom's gaze.
"No, Hagrid," he said warningly.
But Hagrid said: "Can I borrow your fireplace, Henry?"
"No."
"Please, for your godson? He'll like brandy just like you."
"No. Ten thousand nos," Anthony said. Watched the hopeful light in Hagrid's eyes extinguish. Added: "Unless you can get the Headmaster's permission."
Hagrid said dejectedly: "I'll think of another way."
Anthony sat with him a while. Couldn't bear this heavy atmosphere. Volunteered: "I can ask Professor Kettleburn if there's any way to make dragon eggs less conspicuous. He definitely won't suspect I want to raise dragons."
Hagrid looked up gratefully: "Wonderful, Henry. Do you mind if I name your godson after you?"
"Please absolutely don't," Anthony said sincerely.
Professor Kettleburn's office was on the fourth floor. Without much help from Nearly Headless Nick, stepping into that corridor, Anthony could identify which office belonged to the Care of Magical Creatures professor. A sphinx statue stood beside a door. Watched Anthony from afar.
He approached. Saw a line carved on the wooden door beside the sphinx: "THE ANSWER IS ONE HUNDRED!" The all-caps words were casually painted in red. Several underlines beneath.
As Anthony examined the door, the sphinx opened its mouth. Asked in a deep voice: "I am certain, yet unknown. Some seek refuge from me in fear, others fear me. What am I, hidden in shadows, all paths leading to me?"
Anthony stood at the door pondering.
"One hundred," he said hesitantly.
The sphinx looked impatient: "Why does everyone say that? No. It's not."
"You just changed the question," Anthony pointed out. "Then, for the second question, the answer is because the door beside you tells us so."
The statue rolled its eyes. Tried to see the door behind it. Anthony kindly read: "The answer is one hundred."
"The answer is you shouldn't cheat!" the sphinx said in a deep, hoarse voice. "Answer my riddle, or become fragments."
Just then, the door shuddered. A loud bang came from inside. Anthony could vaguely hear Professor Kettleburn shouting something.
Purely out of curiosity, Anthony told the sphinx: "I choose to become fragments."
"Oh, fine. Go in, 'Fragments,'" the sphinx said. The door opened.
Behind the door was a scene Anthony hadn't expected at all. Professor Kettleburn gripped an animal corpse in his hand. Thrust it at Snape's nose. Shouted loudly about something. Snape's brow furrowed tightly. Stood motionless watching the old professor.
"With all due respect, this is merely a Murtlap," Snape said.
Professor Kettleburn looked like he might explode. "Merely!" he shouted furiously. Glanced at the opening door. Saw Anthony standing outside.
"Come in, Professor Anthony," Professor Kettleburn hopped on one foot to Anthony's side. Grabbed his arm. Slammed the door shut. "Come in. You be the judge. He—" he pointed at Snape "—his student trampled a Murtlap to death in class. Shouldn't I assign detention?"
Anthony looked around. Professor Kettleburn glared at Snape furiously. Snape looked even more vampiric than usual.
"Um... sounds fair to me," Anthony said.
Snape said: "I only asked you to change the detention time, Professor Kettleburn. I don't think that's unreasonable?"
Professor Kettleburn said: "He's not going anywhere!"
Anthony glanced at Snape. Couldn't help asking: "Why, Professor Kettleburn?"
Professor Kettleburn glared at a corner of the office: "Because this fellow was bitten by the Murtlap!"
Only then did Anthony notice a barrel in that corner. The Slytherin Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint, sat red-faced, scrunched in the barrel. Surrounded by water vapor and steam. Seeing Anthony look over, he sank deeper into the barrel. Some water immediately overflowed the rim. Flowed along the cracks in Professor Kettleburn's office floorboards.
A Fire Salamander hissed. Dodged the spreading water. Jumped into Professor Kettleburn's fireplace. Like Hagrid's hut, a fire burned there too. But the office maintained a comfortable temperature.
Anthony took time to understand what happened from Professor Kettleburn's account. In yesterday's Care of Magical Creatures class, Flint angered a Murtlap. Got bitten hard. Then roared and trampled it to death. But that was a very decisive bite... In short, if the Quidditch captain decided to play Quidditch now, his broom would be ignited by his occasional sparks. Become a flying bundle of firewood.
According to Professor Kettleburn, this state would last about two days. He'd decided to provide Flint nothing but a barrel of water. To help him "learn a lesson." That's why Anthony saw a big guy here with wrinkled, waterlogged skin.
"But I have a career counseling appointment with Mr. Flint today," Snape said gloomily. "Unless you want me to conduct the consultation here, Professor Kettleburn—"
Before he finished, Professor Kettleburn interrupted.
"Of course, why not?" the old professor said loudly. Hopped on one leg to Flint's side. Pulled over a chair for himself. Stood a prosthetic arm on the ground. Hung a robe on it as a curtain.
"Please proceed," he said. Even tugged the robe for Snape. Indicated he wouldn't interfere. Only then did Anthony notice the professor's other wooden leg also stood by Flint's barrel. Another robe hung on it. Barely blocked the position between Flint and the door. That's why Anthony had overlooked this odd barrel.
Flint said quietly: "No, Professor Snape..."
But Snape said: "I don't have another two hours for you, Mr. Flint. I suggest you start talking now. What do you want to do in the future?"
Flint looked like he wanted to use the barrel as his coffin. Die on the spot. Anthony guessed being watched bathing by three professors wasn't a Hogwarts tradition. And in his experience, teenagers this age usually had quite strong self-esteem.
"Or we could wait until Mr. Flint dries out a bit?" Anthony suggested. Immediately received a grateful look. "Professor Kettleburn, can Mr. Flint come out temporarily?"
"What?" Professor Kettleburn asked, puzzled. Then looked at Flint. Suddenly understood. Laughed heartily. "I'm ninety-eight years old. Eighty of those years watching various magical creatures live. They can do anything in water. I'm used to it." He knocked his wooden leg with his good arm. "And you'd better be wise. Don't impulsively anger them. Animals defending themselves don't know mercy, Mr. Flint."
Anthony said: "I believe Mr. Flint already knows that, right?"
"But no," Professor Kettleburn said. Touched the Murtlap thrown on the desk. "Or rather, unless you want to show Professor Snape and Professor Anthony how you burn your school robes, you'd better not try. I promise, once you stand up, yesterday afternoon will repeat exactly. And this time I won't block it for you."
Snape said: "Stay soaked, Flint." He added coldly: "I assure you, you look no different from other specimens. Just less valuable."
Anthony couldn't help glancing at him. He didn't know Snape collected specimens in his office. Now he really did sound a bit like a vampire.
"What, Severus?" Professor Kettleburn exclaimed.
But Snape ignored them. He stared at Flint. Said: "What do you want to do in the future, Mr. Flint?"
Flint repeated: "Do what?"
Snape sighed impatiently. He said: "If you're asking me, Mr. Flint, I suggest you become a parrot."
Professor Kettleburn said: "Ha, I know! Animagus!" He told Flint: "Your Head of House suggests you develop your Transfiguration talent."
Flint said: "Um..." He looked confused.
Snape sneered: "Correct me if I'm wrong. Mr. Flint, your average Potions grade is A, Transfiguration is P, Herbology is P, Defense Against the Dark Arts is T, Astronomy is D, History of Magic is E—but that's because Professor Binns confused you with Miss Fawcett—Care of Magical Creatures is A..."
"Now it's P," Professor Kettleburn said.
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