The scent of tea and biscuits filled the Headmaster's office. Under Fawkes' gaze, Dumbledore told Anthony that magic creating bodies still belonged to Dark Magic, a rather obscure branch of it. He gave Anthony several keywords and warned him to be extremely careful.
"I'm willing to trust you, Henry. But please don't walk too far down that deep, beautiful path..." Dumbledore sighed. "As far as I know, like death, it's also a road difficult to turn back from. Fervor for life and fear of death—sometimes I can barely distinguish them... Perhaps when you reach the end, you'll discover they're merely two adjacent paths in the forest, leading to the same lake."
"Not impossible," Anthony said and thought of that silent black river, the river constantly flowing through his dreams. "I'm curious what the end looks like. I haven't seen the end yet."
Dumbledore asked, "I beg your forgiveness for my presumption, Henry. This is just sudden curiosity. You needn't answer at all... What does death look like?"
Anthony fell silent for a moment.
On the massive cabinet, Fawkes stopped preening and turned his head to look at him. Outside the window, ice and snow covered bare gray mountains, as if they'd never melt. An owl flew hurriedly from the distance, carrying someone's letter home.
Couples walked hand in hand by the Black Lake, cold wind blowing their faces, ears, noses all rosy. Jubilant students celebrated Gryffindor's victory and bounced along ground not yet dry. Filch stood guard at the door, maliciously scrutinized everyone's shoe soles, and ignored Peeves already hanging a leather shoe above his head.
"Do you truly want to hear me discuss death, Professor?" the resurrected necromancer asked.
Even the silver instruments constantly humming softly in the Headmaster's office quieted at this moment. Smoke they puffed hesitated frozen mid-air. Time seemed twisted, because death was inherently outside time—
"No," Dumbledore said. "No, I'm sorry."
"I'm not unwilling to speak," Anthony said. "I'm just confirming whether you truly want to hear."
Dumbledore removed his glasses from his crooked nose and wiped them carefully. He said firmly, "No. Don't unwrap presents before Christmas. Don't blow out candles before your birthday arrives. You're right, Henry. Thank you."
"It's nothing. Everyone's curious," Anthony said.
He'd been curious himself... before he died. In fact, that Dumbledore could refuse this temptation so quickly and decisively greatly exceeded his expectations.
Dumbledore smiled. "Then let me keep this curiosity until the answer finds me. I hope it's reasonably satisfying."
"I can't guarantee it," Anthony also smiled. "What I can tell you is, death isn't the end of everything."
Dumbledore said, "That's enough, Henry. That's enough." His voice trembled slightly, blue eyes unusually moist. "This fills me with... hope."
Anthony stood in the corridor somewhat confused, holding a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Dumbledore, like the kindest old man entertaining children, listed a long snack menu for him and tried stuffing his pockets full. In the end he inexplicably took this bag supposedly Dumbledore's "least favorite" beans.
"I'm always very unlucky," Dumbledore said helplessly. "I never get the flavor I want... I've always wanted to chat with their manufacturer. They're too unfriendly to those easily teased by fate."
Anthony was skeptical about this, until he sucked on a mint bean while watching Dumbledore eat a soap-flavored one. They'd both agreed that pink, fragrant bean was strawberry.
Gryffindor's Thomas saw Anthony and called out, "Professor Anthony! Did you watch the match today?"
Since Anthony used the Summoning Charm and large sheet to interrupt the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, many rumored Madam Hooch would challenge him to a wizard's duel sooner or later, or he'd eventually be banned from the Quidditch pitch.
"Watched it, watched it. Potter won beautifully," Anthony said with a smile. "Want a bean, Mr. Thomas? Consider it celebration?"
Thomas said happily, "Of course!" He reached for one and tossed it in his mouth. "Ah, strawberry!"
By the time Anthony returned to his office corridor, he'd given away nearly half the bag. He always felt the wonderful thing about snacks was sharing happiness.
His students seemed accustomed to him producing various snacks and treats and all naturally reached into the bag when he asked. Walking along, Anthony had already passed two peppers, three chocolates, three curries, four wasabis, and who knows how many spinach and marmalades.
Before opening his office door, he thought for a moment and knocked on Professor Quirrell's door. After a panicked, clattering commotion, several minutes later, the door finally opened a tiny crack. Through that small gap, Professor Quirrell stammered, "P-Professor Anthony?"
Anthony pulled open the bag opening and shook the colorful Bertie Bott's beans. "Want one, Professor Quirrell—consider it celebrating Gryffindor's victory." He remembered last time against Slytherin, Quirrell also supported Gryffindor.
"A-all right," Quirrell said. A pale hand extended through the door crack and tremblingly grabbed one bean.
"Did you watch today's match, Professor Quirrell?" He didn't remember seeing Quirrell in the stands, though on the other hand, he hadn't really cared which professors went.
"I d-didn't go," Quirrell said.
"Well, Gryffindor won very gloriously today. I'm starting to understand why Hagrid says Potter flies brilliantly," Anthony said. "And the sun was quite nice today."
He always felt their office corridor badly needed sunlight: one end housed a ghost bathroom, one end housed a necromancer and Skeleton Cat office, plus a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor always cowering, decorating his office with nothing but white garlic and pitch darkness.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor pinched a dark green bean—Anthony had to say, it looked like no good flavor—put it in his mouth, then coughed violently.
"What's wrong?" Anthony asked somewhat amused. "Wasabi?"
Quirrell coughed. "N-no, cough cough, it's vomit."
Anthony confirmed Dumbledore wasn't the one fate most liked to tease. He'd found a more unlucky unlucky one.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
Read up to (50+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here: patreon.com/GoldenLong
Happy reading, everyone!