Covered by the Thestral's wing, Anthony found the journey much smoother. Rain drummed against the black wing overhead, making almost no sound. The Thestral's skeletal body pressed against him as it walked, thin skin stretched taut over its bony frame, bumping him with each swaying step. Wuwu trotted behind them, Hagrid's woolen hat clamped in its beak, looking delighted.
Near Professor Kettleburn's shed, the Thestral folded its wings, let out a strange, shrill cry, and vanished into the Forbidden Forest just as silently and swiftly as it had arrived. Like a shadow dissolving into darkness.
The shed was much larger than Anthony had imagined.
A long central walkway stretched ahead, flanked on both sides by enclosures of varying heights, marked by wooden railings. The lighting was dim, the air thick with the scent of magical creatures. Odd sounds drifted from various pens: scrabbling, clicking, soft hoots. Rain hammered against the skylights in the roof, making them tremble. Water dripped from a few gaps in the ceiling, splattering onto the dry, sandy floor, creating dark, spreading stains.
In one enclosure, several Nifflers were burrowing energetically through piles of hay. Hagrid pulled a bag of beer bottle caps from his pocket, shoved them into a nearby haystack, and tossed another bundle of hay to the Niffllers. As they tore it apart, Anthony glimpsed a few beautiful marbles bouncing on the ground. A second later, they were gone.
Next to the Nifflers, a Fire Crab was butting its shell irritably against the wooden boards. A Niffler, eyes full of longing, pressed its snout to a gap in the wood, staring at the glittering jewels on the crab's shell. It poked a paw through the gap, then turned to snatch a fallen golden teaspoon beside it. A Knarl huddled motionless in a corner of the same pen.
In another enclosure, several Crup puppies rushed to the fence, their front paws pushing against the gate, making it rattle. Their forked tails wagged furiously.
Anthony stared at the magical creatures. "Are these all for the students to learn about?"
"Oh, yes," Hagrid said. "Professor Kettleburn sorts the creatures he keeps into 'approachable' and 'do not approach'. These are the approachable ones. The really interesting ones, he doesn't let students near. Worries they might scare 'em… I checked that pen last week, so it's all fine."
Anthony was quite certain Professor Kettleburn's Chimera fell squarely into the 'do not approach' category.
Hagrid jangled a massive ring of keys, muttering as he sorted through them. "Broom shed… cabin door… no, not that one… right, approachable creatures! Hmm… Puffskeins and Flobberworms… Salamanders and Ashwinders… Murtlaps… Found it! Toolshed!"
He carefully pinched a key that looked comically small in his huge hand and unlocked a small door beside them. The wooden door was stuck. Hagrid frowned and yanked.
With an ominous splintering sound, Anthony watched in horror as the door reluctantly toppled inward. The last remaining hinge held on stubbornly, leaving the door dangling from the frame, swaying gently.
…
Hagrid plugged the ceiling gaps with large, gooey globs of something green. Anthony handled the door repair.
"Glad you're here, Henry," Hagrid said gratefully, climbing down the ladder. "This door's always breaking. Professor Kettleburn's fixed it a few times himself."
Anthony closed the door, opened it again, and examined it closely. "It might be because this spot gets damp."
"Could be," Hagrid agreed, tossing the last of the beef to the Crup pups. He checked his watch. "Blimey, we need to head back, Henry!"
Anthony looked up. "What's wrong?"
"I need to feed the little ones," Hagrid said, anxiety creeping into his voice. "They're at a crucial stage for growth!"
"Alright, let's go then," Anthony said, standing up from beside the door. "But, Hagrid, I have to remind you again. You really need to contact someone, anyone, to take them off your hands soon… or get a proper permit to raise Chimeras. Ask Professor Kettleburn."
"Right, right," Hagrid said dismissively, checking his watch again.
Anthony sighed. "Let's go."
…
To save time, they cut through the Forbidden Forest again. The rain had lightened considerably, falling more softly through the trees. Anthony didn't see a single creature the whole way.
"I remember the creatures in the forest sort of claim territories, right?" Anthony asked. "Whose territory are we in now?"
"Ah, well, that's a rough sort of way of putting it. Apart from actual nests, no place is completely off-limits to others passing through," Hagrid said, waving a massive arm to the left. "But generally speaking, the centaurs would say that way is theirs. If they're in a bad mood, anything wandering in might end up prey."
He gestured to the right. "Over there's the unicorns' area. But they let all creatures drink and bathe at their pool. And no hunting's allowed there." He thought for a moment. "I recall Aragog telling me a few Acromantulas caught a deer over there once. They got chased off by the unicorns every time they tried to go back for a drink. Aragog and his lot are much further that way. The Thestrals are around… well, probably over there, but they aren't too fussy about territory. The other forest creatures don't pay them much mind either."
Anthony asked curiously, "What else lives in the forest?"
"Herds of deer. Wolf packs. Hippogriffs sometimes come to the forest to give birth and raise their young," Hagrid listed without hesitation. "And of course, all the birds and insects, but we usually don't count them. Aragog told me there are other things in the woods, but he can't be bothered with them. Professor Sprout says there are probably plenty of magical creatures in here that haven't been catalogued properly. But those are the main groups. Why d'you ask, Henry?"
"I was wondering if there's room here for five or six Chimeras," Anthony said. "You know. To make the Forbidden Forest even more forbidden."
As he said it, he felt a bit like he was discussing garbage sorting with a neighbor: I think someone tossed five or six glass bottles into the general waste. Is there any space left in the glass recycling bin?
…
Anthony gave Hagrid one last warning before he hurried off to feed the Chimeras. "We're visiting that dragon reserve at Christmas, Hagrid. Please don't get yourself into trouble before then."
Then, thoroughly damp, Anthony made his way back to the castle.
The Entrance Hall floor was a mess of muddy footprints, so the extra muck he'd brought from the forest didn't stand out. Peeves was there, puffing out his cheeks and blowing gusts of freezing air at students, making a few unlucky souls who had just entered shiver violently. Students with steam coming from their ears were shouting to be heard over the general din, seemingly unable to hear each other.
Anthony shooed Peeves away, then flicked his wand to clean himself off. He managed to mostly dry his clothes, then headed for his office.
Just as he was fitting his key into the lock, another door down the corridor opened. Gilderoy Lockhart emerged, looking as dashing as ever. His wavy golden hair gleamed with a meticulously maintained shine under the torchlight. His soft azure robes complemented his strikingly blue eyes perfectly.
"Good afternoon, Henry!" Lockhart boomed, his eyes taking in Anthony's somewhat disheveled state. "My, my, you look like you've had a rather trying day. What happened?"
Anthony had to admit, seeing Lockhart in one piece sent a wave of relief through him. Even though the Wraith Rat had never sent an alarm, he couldn't help but worry that someone might have been adventurous enough to explore his office.
"Good afternoon," Anthony said. "No, nothing happened… How was your morning, Professor Lockhart?"
"Excellent, excellent. It might surprise you to hear this, Henry," Lockhart said, flashing his brilliant teeth and gesturing for Anthony to come closer. "I've already finished the first chapter of my new book. Shh. No gasps. It's still a secret." He put a finger to his lips and winked.
"That's wonderful. I look forward to its publication," Anthony said, glancing at his own door. He was torn between making a swift exit to his office and staying to subtly probe Lockhart's plans regarding office exploration.
"I know you all are! I assure you, I am pouring two hundred percent of my passion into this new volume. It will be my second autobiography," Lockhart said, beaming. "When it's published, I shall give you a signed copy! How does that sound? First edition, first printing, personally inscribed for my colleague and dear reader, Henry!"
"Er… brilliant. Thank you," Anthony said, smiling back and taking a slight step back. Lockhart's enthusiasm was making him feel almost guilty.
"What's the first chapter about?" Anthony asked.
"Tut, tut, tut, Henry. Sly Henry. I don't usually divulge my writing plans to readers," Lockhart said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "But I can tell you, just between us, the book is about my life here at Hogwarts. You probably think it's another of my daring adventure tales, don't you? But I aim to surprise. Just as no one expected me to write Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests between Break with a Banshee and Travels with Trolls, and it went on to become a record-breaking bestseller, I want to present my life to my devoted readers. In this book, Henry, I will let readers less fortunate than yourself hear what I say and see what I do."
Anthony felt a weight lift. "So… you're not planning on having any adventures within Hogwarts, Professor Lockhart?"
"Oh, goodness, no. I am content to leave Hogwarts to the young students with a taste for adventure," Lockhart declared magnanimously. "Even though I don't expect anyone to achieve what I have, I still wish to encourage them to dedicate themselves to the fight against the Dark Arts. Yes, I know, many say that with Lockhart around, no new adventurer will make a name for themselves this century, but let's not crush the children's spirits. Honestly, Hogwarts is a bit… tame for me. It is a place positively brimming with secrets, don't you think?"
A rapid-fire series of images flashed through Anthony's mind: Acromantulas in the forest, the dead Basilisk, Voldemort possessing a professor, the Philosopher's Stone hidden in the castle, the smuggled Norwegian Ridgeback, the Animagus turned pet, the smuggled Chimeras…
Necromancer Anthony said calmly, "Is it? I hadn't noticed."
"That's because you're not an adventurer, Henry," Lockhart said indulgently. "If you had an adventurer's nose, you'd have smelled the scent of adventure and secrets on the very first night of the Start-of-Term Feast. Just as I did."
Anthony asked curiously, "What secrets did you find, Professor Lockhart?" He didn't remember reading about this in any of Lockhart's books. But considering how conspicuous Moaning Myrtle was, he'd have thought the Basilisk was a fairly obvious mystery.
Lockhart's smile grew even more dazzling. "Well, if you're asking me… I'll tell you, Henry. Fame is a hindrance on the adventurer's path. Wherever I go, the adoring eyes of my fans follow. To keep them out of harm's way, I had to… curtail my exploratory plans here. That's why I left Britain immediately after graduation, to seek adventure in foreign lands, helping them with their little troubles involving Dark magic and creatures. And who would have thought, even then, I still ended up a best-selling author? Fame simply clings to me…"
Anthony mentally translated this as: Found absolutely nothing.
…
Lockhart finally departed ("I must be going, Henry. Wouldn't do to keep my fan club members waiting. Why don't you come to tomorrow's gathering?"). Anthony, at last, opened his office door.
To his relief, only a few papers were scattered on the floor. The ginger cat, the Wraith Chicken, and the Wraith Rat occupied platforms on the cat tree from top to bottom, all seemingly asleep.
"Afternoon," Anthony said, closing the door behind him and hanging his now-dry coat on the hook.
The Wraith Chicken sleepily opened one eye to look at him, tucked its head back, then spotted the fluffy ginger tail dangling in front of its face. It nipped the tail and gave a tug. Another scuffle immediately commenced.
The Wraith Rat calmly woke up, climbed down to a lower platform on the cat tree, curled into a ball, and went back to sleep.
"If you knock over the ink, you're getting another bath," Anthony warned.
Both the ginger cat and the Wraith Chicken simultaneously moved further from the desk.
Anthony smiled, waved his wand, and sent the papers—which still felt distinctly Muggle in origin—fluttering back to the desktop. He walked around the desk and glanced down. It was a letter from Mr. Linder. Mr. Linder was asking about his Christmas plans, as his wife and children were very keen on inviting a wizard over.
Anthony calculated his return date from Romania. He replied that he'd only be free during the last few days of the New Year holiday. If he got burnt or eaten by a dragon, that schedule might be pushed back a bit further.
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