"Tell me about Hogwarts, Mr. Anthony," Kevin demanded.
Anthony ran into Mr. Jones while shopping for meat. He absolutely insisted Anthony come for dinner. Mrs. Jones hastily threw together an extra salad to handle the unexpected guest.
"Did you buy your textbooks and wand?" Anthony asked.
"Got the wand. Professor Snape took me to Diagon Alley," Kevin said quietly, stirring the carrot mash in his bowl reluctantly with his spoon. "Haven't gotten the textbook list yet. Professor Snape said to go myself after I get the letter, but I can't remember the way... I wanted to take Mum and Dad, but I can't find that wall he showed me."
"That professor said we'd just cause trouble if we went," Mrs. Jones said. "I was worried he was trying to kidnap Kevin! Two Muggles at home, worried sick!"
She emphasized "Muggles" disapprovingly, glanced at the table. Anthony noticed a copy of Bathilda Bagshot's A History of Magic there.
"I think he might be very busy," he said dryly, defending Snape. Immediately shifted topics to Kevin's question. "What do you want to know about Hogwarts?"
Kevin thought. "Mr. Anthony, what's the Sorting about?"
"Ah, I can't say." Anthony smiled, shook his head. "I've been warned. All first-years need to experience Sorting with as little preparation as possible. So, sorry—I can't rob you of the thrilling Sorting fun."
Kevin ate a gloomy bite of carrot mash. Suddenly shouted: "Thrilling Sorting fun? Mr. Anthony, do I have to duel a dragon? Will I see a dragon?"
"Sit down, Kevin—don't wave your spoon around," Mrs. Jones said.
Anthony considered. "I can't say."
"You hesitated!" Kevin said triumphantly. "I'm right! I'm dueling a dragon!"
"What?" Mr. and Mrs. Jones said together. They looked at each other. Went pale. Looked terrified.
"Can we withdraw, Mr. Anthony—Professor Anthony?" Mrs. Jones asked, trying to stay calm.
"It's fine, Mum. Chickens are descended from dinosaurs," Kevin comforted her, forked a piece of chicken from the salad. "After all these years of evolution, magical dragons are probably just fire-breathing chickens."
"Chickens shouldn't breathe fire," Mr. Jones pointed out.
"People shouldn't do magic," Kevin retorted, looking up. "Mr. Anthony, tell me the parts about Hogwarts you can talk about!"
Anthony recalled his first impressions. "Hogwarts is a very magical castle. There are staircases that disappear for no reason and portraits that move and talk."
"A castle!" Mr. Jones exclaimed.
"And ghosts. They're milky white, float around, but won't hurt you—they can't even touch you. Though there's one special one called Peeves. He's got color, can touch solid objects, loves pranking students. Most people avoid him."
Mrs. Jones looked more worried. "Why are there ghosts at school? I thought they usually stayed in graveyards."
"I was surprised too. But ghosts usually linger where they went when alive. Hogwarts clearly accepts all wandering ghosts," Anthony said. "Don't worry about ghosts. They're actually very reasonable dead—sorry, very reasonable people—and rarely interfere with your business."
"What else?" Kevin asked. "Like, um... what's studying at Hogwarts like? Professor Snape said I can't come home on weekends."
"True. Hogwarts is a full-time boarding school. As for studying, let me think... Like your school, each professor has different teaching methods. Depending on your timetable, you'll have different subjects with different houses."
He thought again. "Oh, good news—Hogwarts has the best food I've ever seen. Students rarely get sick. Magical medicine is really unreasonable. School serves ice cream at lunch and dinner. Eat as much as you want."
"What, really?" Kevin said, delighted. "Brilliant!" He dropped the fork in his mouth, declared lunch finished. Looked completely unconcerned about studying and boarding now.
"If you want ice cream, Kevin, why don't you go tidy your room?" Mrs. Jones said. "I saw your T-Rex lying on the floor. The saber-tooth doesn't seem to be where it should be either. Send your dinosaurs home. They need lunch too, all right?"
"Okay, Mum—" Kevin drawled, slid off his chair in slippers, ran off to tidy his toys.
After sending Kevin away, the Joneses' worry showed immediately.
"Tell us about the dragons, Professor Anthony," Mrs. Jones pleaded.
Anthony laughed. "Don't worry. I can guarantee Sorting isn't dueling dragons. From what I saw, I didn't even understand what happened."
Making students wear a talking hat—even if it supposedly belonged to Gryffindor—and declaring they'd determined this eleven-or-twelve-year-old's future life aspirations.
Anthony couldn't say which he found more credible: that method or having them feed Norbert dead rats. Bit the thumb, go to Gryffindor. Index finger, Hufflepuff. Ring finger, Ravenclaw. Pinky, Slytherin. Bit multiple fingers, student chooses. Middle finger? Congratulations, unlucky one—feed again.
"A History of Magic says the four founders created four houses, recruited students by their own standards. What does that mean?" Mr. Jones asked.
"I can't guarantee I'm completely right," Anthony said. "I've only been at Hogwarts one year. Just a teacher for an elective. But they seem to sort children with different aspirations and ideals into different houses. Outside studying, students' extracurricular lives are usually managed by their house prefects and heads."
"Which house would Kevin most likely go to?" Mrs. Jones asked. "Professor Anthony, can I know which house you were in?"
"I think Kevin will probably be Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Anthony said. "But until Sorting results come out, we can't say anything. Me? I don't belong anywhere. I didn't graduate from Hogwarts."
"I saw A History of Magic says there are other magical schools outside Britain. Did you graduate from that Beaux-something or Durm-whatever?"
"I didn't." Anthony smiled. "Though I'm a wizard now, I received so-called Muggle education."
The Joneses looked at him, confused. Seemed to be trying to understand the logic. Snape must have told them "magic is a gift, wizards must attend magical school" and such.
Anthony explained: "The story's complicated. But basically, I've only been at Hogwarts a year myself."
"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Jones said. She seemed relieved. "Then you must understand what we're worried about, right? Is Hogwarts a suitable school? When you first went to Hogwarts, what was your impression?"
Anthony was silent a moment. "I must be frank. When I first went to Hogwarts, I wasn't particularly concerned what it was like. I had no choice then—that's the complicated story I mentioned."
He smiled apologetically at Mr. Jones, who wanted to ask. "You can perhaps imagine—after over twenty years of non-magical education, I felt like a complete outsider to the wizarding world. I felt I didn't belong there. Naturally didn't belong at Hogwarts either."
"Wait, Mr. Anthony." Mrs. Jones interrupted, stood up, opened the fridge. "Would you like some ice cream? We have cherry and chocolate."
"Don't worry. I'm about to get to the 'but,'" Anthony said. "But Hogwarts is a wonderful place. There might be many unsatisfactory things. Some I still don't know how to solve. Some I don't even know why they happen...
"But ultimately, it's a magical castle. Like in fairy tales, Hogwarts has unicorns, merpeople, Centaurs—" He hesitated, skipped the Acromantulas and the dragon actually at Hogwarts about to be sent away. "Also very, very sincere and friendly colleagues and students. They're very tolerant of me. I received tremendous kindness there."
"So, do you think Kevin will be happy at Hogwarts? Is it safe?" Mr. Jones asked.
"Safe? Not at all," Anthony said seriously. "Happy? Yes. Based on Kevin's behavior, he'll love it there."
"But..." Mrs. Jones said. She opened her mouth several times. Still couldn't finish the sentence.
Anthony nodded. "Yes, I know. There's a saying Hogwarts is the safest place in the world. Those wizards are really quite strange."
"Mum! Dad! I'm done!" Kevin shouted, pattered back. "I want cherry flavor!"
Anthony escaped Kevin's pleas only with the Joneses' help. He shouldn't have mentioned—when saying he couldn't accompany the Joneses to Diagon Alley next week—it was because he was meeting people from the Romanian dragon reserve.
No matter how sweetly Kevin begged his parents, the boring adults refused to let him follow.
"I won't say a word. You can pretend I'm a statue, Mr. Anthony," Kevin promised. "I just want to see what dragon keepers look like."
"No, Kevin," Anthony said gently but firmly. Besides dragon keepers, this small, secret meeting included a bad-tempered dragon and a probably tear-streaked Hagrid.
"Absolutely not. Mr. Anthony has his own business. You shouldn't trouble him," the Joneses said. They walked Anthony to the door, repeatedly thanked him for coming to dinner, apologized for Kevin's request.
"If I can have another ice cream scoop, I won't mention following Mr. Anthony," Kevin said at the door.
"Kevin!" Mrs. Jones said. "All right, but only one small scoop."
"I want chocolate!" Kevin said without hesitation, ran back to the kitchen. "Bye, Mr. Anthony! See you at school! Thanks for answering our questions and for the second ice cream scoop!"
"Why not thank me?" Mrs. Jones asked.
"Because I love you!" Kevin said, holding the ice cream scoop. "Want a tiny chocolate scoop too, Mum?"
"No, thank you," Mrs. Jones said.
"Give me one," Mr. Jones said majestically.
The date with Charlie's friends arrived quickly. Anthony left cat, chicken, and mouse at home—told the chicken to watch the cat, don't let it burn too much wine—returned alone to Hogwarts in the early morning.
After students left, Hogwarts felt empty. Wild flowers and grass poked through the previously trampled bare paths, swaying in the morning breeze. Somehow the Black Lake seemed larger than usual, reflecting the blue sky. Waves gently lapped the shore. A white ferret that had escaped from somewhere stared at the lake, startled by Anthony's footsteps, darted into the bushes.
Anthony knocked on Hagrid's door. A crash inside startled him.
"Hagrid, you home?"
"Coming, Henry." Hagrid said nasally, shuffled to open the door. "Last—last look at Norbert!" He choked up.
Norbert was energetically tearing at Fang's treat cupboard. The reinforced cupboard now lay on the floor, awaiting its dismantling under the dragon's teeth.
"I decorated his crate," Hagrid said, eyes red, let Anthony in.
Behind him was the crate for transporting Norbert—very sturdy, with several barely functional fireproofing charms per dragon expert Charlie's advice. The crate was painted red, hung with balloons around the crooked "NORBERT" lettering.
Hagrid looked sadly at the dragon. "I decorated it like a birthday party... I didn't even get to celebrate its first birthday! Poor, poor Norbert!"
Norbert charred a corner of the cupboard.
"You can visit it at the reserve," Anthony said. "You can celebrate Norbert's first birthday in Romania with its dragon classmates."
Hagrid stared at the dragon a moment, then lifted the crate lid, continued introducing: "I put dead rats and brandy in the crate. Its toy bear too, in case it gets lonely. Oh, and its birth teapot and your robe... Oh, Norbert, I wish I could give it more."
Anthony saw Hagrid had also put a letter in the crate. Also wrinkled from tears.
"You could put something of yours in," Anthony said. "You know, something to remind Norbert of you."
"Norbert—I—" Tears poured from Hagrid's eyes again, soaked into his tangled hair and beard. "I feel like nothing's right. I'm planning to put some rock cakes and stoat sandwiches I made in before leaving."
Then the dragon seemed to finally notice another person in the house. It turned its gaze maliciously toward the visitor. Anthony was surprised to find it had grown much larger than a week ago. Its smoking nose and gleaming teeth now looked genuinely threatening.
Norbert raised its nose, sniffed the air repeatedly. Suddenly whimpered again.
"Good heavens, Norbert!" Hagrid stopped blowing his nose, said in shock.
"What's it doing?" Anthony asked.
"It's whimpering at you," Hagrid said. "It likes you."
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