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Anthony's cat lay sprawled on the cat tree Professor McGonagall had given, lazily batting at the small toy dangling before it. The mouse-shaped ornament struck the cat tree's main trunk, producing squeaking sounds. It raised its head to glance at the room's other occupant.
Anthony sat behind his desk, grading students' tests from yesterday... After four classes achieving full passing rates twice consecutively, he'd finally introduced short-answer questions, requiring more grading time.
After the Quidditch match, Madam Hooch declared both results jointly valid, comprehensively ruling it a draw between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
No one was particularly satisfied with this outcome. Gryffindor felt Slytherin had cheated, while Slytherin said this showed favoritism toward Gryffindor, because if both matches' scores were added together, Slytherin scored more. But Professor McGonagall and Snape firmly endorsed Madam Hooch's ruling. The most convoluted result of this season was thus settled.
Gryffindor brought this dissatisfaction into the test. No fewer than five people wrote ten-plus inches under a question titled "List three Muggle sports," greatly increasing Anthony's workload. He'd wondered why some people not only hadn't submitted early that day, but even requested additional parchment.
The cat's ears suddenly twitched.
Someone was knocking.
"Come in!" Anthony called loudly, flicking his wand to open the office door.
To his surprise, the doorway held not one of his students, but Professor Burbage.
"I knew you'd be in your office," Professor Burbage said. "Filius received the British Advanced Charms Society Lifetime Achievement Award. We're planning to celebrate at the Three Broomsticks. Will you come?"
"Of course." Anthony collected the tests into his lesson plans, setting them aside. "No one refuses Butterbeer."
"Starting in March, I was told I'd entered the selection process... ah, Rosmerta—"
"Sherry juice soda with ice and umbrella snails." Madam Rosmerta placed the glass before Professor Flitwick, then deftly delivered everyone's drinks.
"Yes, thank you." Professor Flitwick said happily in his high voice, continuing to tell them about receiving the award. "But their selection only concluded last month. An owl delivered the invitation yesterday, inviting me to attend the ceremony next February."
"That's quite a long process," Professor Sprout said. "I recall the Herbology Society takes about three months for results. How long does the Potions Society take, Severus?"
Snape sat gloomily in the warm pub's corner. Dumbledore had dispatched him here. Most unfortunately, when Professor Flitwick invited Snape, he'd happened to be speaking with Dumbledore.
"About four months," he said stiffly. He hadn't won.
Professor McGonagall reminded Professor Flitwick, "Remember to find a good seat. At least when I attended the ceremony years ago, the venue was extremely windy. My position heard nothing but wind. The presenter called three times before I heard clearly they were calling me to the stage."
Anthony asked Professor Burbage curiously, "Does the Muggle Studies Society also award lifetime achievement prizes?"
Professor Burbage nodded. "Yes. Want a medal? I can ask."
"Ah?"
Professor Burbage shrugged. "Their selection process is long because of numerous competitors. Muggle Studies... over the years, everyone can hang several intimidating-sounding titles."
Anthony looked at her wordlessly. Sitting before him was the President of the British Muggle Studies Society, Lifetime Achievement Award recipient of the European Muggle Studies Society, Chair of the International Muggle Studies Committee, former Head and Chief Examiner of the Wizarding Examinations Authority Muggle Studies Question Group, and current Hogwarts Muggle Studies Professor, Charity Burbage.
When they returned to Hogwarts, it happened to be snowing. This was winter's first snow—small, hard flakes. Hogwarts' ground was damp. A very thin layer of snow accumulated on the castle rooftops. Students' laughter and chatter carried through winter's clean, cold air. Everyone relaxed.
"It's snowing. I need to check the greenhouses," Professor Sprout said.
Professor McGonagall nodded understandingly. "See you in the castle, Pomona."
"Henry, if you'd like, you can come with me," Professor Sprout invited. "I don't think you've visited the greenhouses yet?"
Out of respect for a subject he knew nothing about, Anthony indeed hadn't entered the greenhouses... what if there were Sphinx plants specifically attacking those with insufficient herbology knowledge? This was the magical world, after all.
He thought about it. Today had no particularly urgent schedule. "That would be wonderful."
Professor Sprout led Anthony through the lower-year greenhouses. She guided him almost as if instructing first-years: shoe covers are over there, no, tie from behind or soil will fall in while walking... gloves on properly... goggles, probably unnecessary today, but wearing them is always right.
Though outside the greenhouse lead clouds hung low with cold winds gusting, Hogwarts' herbology greenhouses were verdantly green. Snowflakes fell on the greenhouse's transparent glass dome, then slowly melted into water droplets by the greenhouse's warmth, sliding down the dome. Tall or short herbs grew in different greenhouse corners, swaying slightly in the cold wind they'd brought in opening the door.
"What's that?" Anthony pointed to a greenhouse corner. Unlike other orderly areas in the greenhouse, that patch of land seemed to have become a mixed planting hodgepodge with various herbs planted. Stranger still, while other greenhouse plants were lush and flourishing, only that crowded area was uneven—some overly vigorous, others already yellowed and withered.
"Oh, that's for students to plant casually," Professor Sprout said, walking over quickly and speaking cheerfully. "Let me see... this is first-years'. Here's Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin..."
Hufflepuff's area had no corner without a few flower stalks or leaves stuffed in. On that small patch of land, students had planted all types of herbs, making them squeeze together vigorously, climbing iron frames to the greenhouse walls, occupying from above positions originally left for other houses.
"They all chose the easiest plants to keep alive," Professor Sprout said modestly when Anthony praised them. "If there's anything to be proud of, it's that our house's children rarely aim too high."
"Sometimes they don't even know how capable they are," Anthony said with feeling. "Pomona, your third-year Diggory could already get an O in Muggle Studies. He told me he always felt he hadn't figured out some class points, looked up some references after class, and ended up far surpassing the curriculum."
Professor Sprout was delighted but instructed Anthony not to tell Diggory.
"Usually, we don't tell students how we predict grades before seeing results," Professor Sprout said. "Like this—look, this plant is Gryffindor's Longbottom's. I'd bet his Herbology is also an O this year, but I certainly won't tell him in advance."
Anthony smiled. "All right, leave them a surprise."
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