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The moment he stepped into the church, Anthony habitually crossed himself following the mayor. Then amusedly lowered his hand.
With their door-opening motion, the candle flame before the icon flickered. Nearly went out. The air was full of that old church smell—damp bricks mixed with decaying wood and burning candle incense.
He quietly instructed the students following behind. "Take off your hats. Then try not to talk... Well, imagine Professor McGonagall standing behind that platform." He pointed at the pulpit.
The footsteps behind him became cautious. Students looked around this small church.
In the dim church, several rows of dilapidated seats were arranged. On the wooden cross was nailed God's son, the Son of Man, Jesus. As they approached, in sunlight streaming from high windows, Anthony saw the long-neglected wooden Jesus had a black stain on his nose. A toe also missing a piece.
"Why is that person on the pillar?" a student asked quietly. "Witch hunting?"
His classmate answered softly, "Don't know. But we're usually tied up. He's nailed."
"About the same," another student joined their discussion. "He looks dead."
Anthony signaled them to be quiet. He said softly, "He is dead."
"If you declare with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." Suddenly someone responded. Everyone looked up surprised. A person dressed as clergy stood in the side corridor. No telling when he came.
Several students quietly discussed his clothing. "Fat Friar?" "A bit similar, but not quite the same."
"For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved," Anthony turned to recite to him. Smiled and nodded. "Hello, we're passing travelers."
The mayor said loudly, "The wind outside is huge. Looks like rain, Father! They're taking the ten forty-three train. Coming in to wait first."
"Jesus rebuked the wind, and it became completely calm," the priest said. He nodded to everyone. Then silently left.
Students held their breath watching him retreat into darkness. The mayor sat down boldly on the wooden bench. The wood made a teeth-aching groan. He burped. Quickly covered it with his hand. "Sorry." He tilted his head toward the side corridor. "Our priest, what's his name... Only came last year. Seems to be a seminary graduate student."
Anthony smiled. "I can tell."
A student asked Anthony puzzled, "Professor, what does 'raised from the dead' mean?"
Anthony turned to look at the mayor. Saw he didn't seem to find this question strange. Explained quietly, "That person in front is Jesus of Nazareth—the one sometimes you can hear people say 'Jesus!'—he... well, it's complicated. Anyway he was nailed to the cross. Died." He added, "Nothing to do with witch hunting. He's older than Merlin."
"Oh..." the student exclaimed softly. Looked at the wooden carving in front of the church. Tried imagining an ancient person older than Merlin.
"Then his body was placed in a stone cave. Three days later, people went and found the stone blocking the entrance had been moved. He appeared before people again."
"What? How's that possible?" a student blurted out. "Does he have phoenix bloodline?"
"No one can have phoenix bloodline, only humanoid..." The refuting student glanced at the mayor. Then looked at Anthony. "Impossible."
Anthony seriously considered for a while whether phoenixes had gender. If so, which chromosome system determined it. Immediately, he suddenly realized this was the magical world. The chromosome theory might not apply to this story. Depending on the animal obtaining the egg, a rooster's egg could become an ordinary chicken, a basilisk whose gaze could kill, or a delicious breakfast.
"Might be fake death," a nearby student well-versed in romance novels said knowledgeably. "Like poison that can stop breathing, fake death drugs that stop heartbeat, or simply ordinary fainting but mistaken for death. Mug—certain novels mentioned quite a few such things."
"Right, might be fake death," another student said. "Then Apparate elsewhere."
The romance novel expert hit hard the student who mentioned Apparition. "Shh!" She used her eyes to signal the other to notice the mayor's direction.
The mayor was contentedly swinging his feet. While stroking his belly, quietly humming a gospel song.
From the off-key tune, Anthony vaguely heard words like "Your lamb," "fisherman," "joy," but quite garbled. The mayor obviously couldn't remember the lyrics clearly. Because he also heard a very clear line that made no theological sense whatsoever.
"Professor?" the student asked inquiringly.
Anthony withdrew his gaze. Shook his head. "Don't ask me. I really don't know what happened."
If he really knew this secret and casually spoke it in church, right now he'd probably either fulfilled the Fat Friar's wish and become a cardinal, or appeared in some corner news of the newspaper with a headline about religious controversy.
"Then what, Professor?" Stinson asked. "He clearly appeared before people. Why is there still a statue of him when he died?"
"Well, some religious symbolic meaning. But anyway..." Anthony smiled. "Then, we got Easter holiday."
Beyond Anthony's expectations, students were very interested in the person on the cross. Until walking onto the train platform, they discussed this person who provided Christmas and Easter.
Wizards generally weren't believers—Anthony had no opinion on this. He didn't expect any grace before meals or bedtime prayers—but they did celebrate Christian holidays.
Initially Anthony didn't realize how unusual this was. Until Christmas holiday when he saw many Christmas cards sprinkled with gold powder and painted with little angels in street shops. Then began wondering why Hogwarts celebrated church holidays.
When he raised this question to Professor Burbage at a restaurant, the other resolved his doubt with a very powerful argument.
"Because at Christmas, the church has no mind to hunt witches," Professor Burbage said. "That alone is worth celebrating. But more importantly, we like holidays. Don't you like turkey, cake, Christmas gingerbread, and vacation?"
Anthony had to admit he really did.
Obviously, students liked them too. Most people, especially students from pure-blood wizard families, didn't even bother much exploring where their holidays came from.
When bean-sized raindrops clattered down, the rails trembled. The locomotive finally emerged from the tunnel entrance. At this time students had basically reached consensus. They thought if a person could bring two holidays, allowing him to slightly violate magical common sense and resurrect a bit was acceptable.
After all, if they insisted Jesus never resurrected, they shouldn't celebrate Easter. Shouldn't have vacation. Simple logical deduction. Simple choice.
While waiting for the train to stop, Anthony distributed tickets to students for emergencies. Instructed them to pay attention to their identity when finding seats themselves.
"Try finding empty compartments. Don't eat Honeydukes' special effect candy. Don't play wizard chess. Don't play Gobstones or Exploding Snap, okay?"
"Then what should we do, Professor?" a student asked miserably. "Compete who can hold their breath longer?"
"Not impossible if you like," Anthony said. "Or you can read books."
"Can I write essays, Professor?" a student asked. Stepped onto the opened door. This carriage was empty. But his hand was already on the handle to the next carriage. Obviously not satisfied staying with classmates.
Anthony nodded. "Yes. If someone peeks at what you're writing, scold them hard for invading privacy."
"Excellent," the student said gleefully. Looked very much looking forward to someone peeking at his essay.
"Don't be too obvious," Anthony said, stepping on the footboard holding the door. Watched students walk into the carriage looking left and right one by one. "I really hope everyone has fun. Try enjoying a train different from the Express you're familiar with. But if situations we all don't want to see happen, when others ask, remember what to say?"
"Remember, Professor Anthony," the student said. "We're magic school students."
Anthony nodded. "Completely correct. This journey isn't long. I'll keep walking around the train. You can call me anytime if needed." He warned one last time. "Trust me, I'll try not to deduct points. But please don't make things difficult for me, okay?"
"Okay, Professor," the students said.
After checking students who boarded against the list, Anthony finally walked into the carriage. The door closed impatiently. With a shake, the train started. Rainwater beat on the windows. Blown by wind rolling backward. Blurred the gray sky outside and rapidly passing trees and houses into a flowing river. Looking out from inside the carriage, could only see dark above.
Anthony hoped without much expectation Edinburgh's weather would be slightly better. Or botanical garden activities mostly held indoors. But British weather was always this bad. Presumably the garden should have prepared long ago.
After confirming students in this carriage had already begun contentedly rummaging through emergency escape equipment, he held the clanging wall. Slowly walked toward the train's rear.
As soon as he entered the next carriage, he startled. That student who wanted to write essays pulled out a large hardcover gilt-edged tome from his bag. The passenger beside him reading a pocket book was trying hard to restrain his gaze. Covertly sized up the student's small backpack. Tried finding out how he stuffed this big book in.
Anthony quickly walked over. Pressed down his hand preparing to take out parchment, quill, and ink bottle.
"Professor?" the student asked puzzled. Looked up at Anthony.
Anthony crouched down. Asked quietly, "What's the most commonly used pen?"
"Fountain pen and pencil," the other immediately answered. "Artists use brushes and crayons."
Anthony nodded. "Very good. What were you just doing?"
"I... oh." The student suddenly understood. Quickly pressed the quill toward the bag bottom.
Anthony looked left and right. Met the curious gaze of the passenger beside. Smiled frankly. The passenger also showed him a smile. Nodded slightly in greeting. Then politely moved his gaze away. Looked at the book in his hand again.
Taking this opportunity, Anthony quickly extended his wand into the student's bag. Changed his quill into a pencil. Parchment into a notebook. Then swiftly withdrew his wand.
"Don't learn," he said seriously to the student staring wide-eyed at him. "You'll get warning letters from our management department."
"Alright, Professor," the student said regretfully. But couldn't help showing a smile. Calmly took out the small notebook and pencil from his bag.
Anthony said quietly, "You write first. I'll help you adjust format back at school."
In the carriage further back, a student had already chatted with the lady sitting beside her. She was listening sympathetically to the other complain about having to get up early every morning to cook for the whole family. Then drive the child to school. Then she herself had to work. But the boss was completely inconsiderate. Always accused her of arriving on time.
Anthony dared guarantee this student completely didn't understand half the vocabulary. But her sincere sympathy obviously won the lady's favor.
"What, really?" the student asked. "I've never heard of such things!"
The passenger beside her said kindly, "Isn't it, dear. I pray for you. Never encounter my kind of bad luck in this lifetime. Speaking of which, you definitely don't know my neighbor couple. Their child also goes to school at that place I mentioned before. But that lady is so much luckier. Her family hired a servant. Every day just responsible for cleaning. Picking up and dropping off children..."
The student listened carefully. From time to time exclaimed "What, can it be like this?" Anthony smiled and nodded at her. Didn't disturb her collecting Muggle daily life materials.
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