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The moment he stepped into the second-floor corridor, he immediately noticed Myrtle sobbing in the bathroom again. Professor Quirrell's door was tightly shut. To avoid Myrtle's resentful crying, the garlic in the portrait lay at the frame's corner. Wrapped itself tightly. Seemed a whole size smaller.
Anthony pulled out his key. Ignored the weeping ghost ("Four-eyes—glasses dog—"). Opened his office door.
Most things on the desk had been pushed to the floor. Unfinished tea left a half-dried puddle on the ground. The elf-magically-reinforced desk was covered in scratches. The cat's favorite climbing frame also lay on the ground. Curtains had been violently torn open. Swayed gently with the breeze blowing through the slightly open window.
Anthony sighed.
"Hello?" he said. "Cat, you here?"
A porcelain tray hanging on the desk edge wobbled dangerously. Clap—fell down. Shattered on the floor.
"Wonderful. Just wonderful..." Anthony said wearily. Pulled out his wand. Pointed at the tray. Restored it to its original state. Then started waving his wand bit by bit cleaning the room.
The little mouse ran out from some corner. Hurriedly tugged his clothes climbing up. Finally burrowed into his pocket.
Then the cat strolled out from the bedroom. Tail held high. Looked proudly at Anthony levitating an ink bottle.
"I thought you two were getting along quite happily," Anthony complained at it. "No need to get angry like this."
The cat meowed. Walked over. Casually rubbed his leg. Immediately jumped onto the climbing frame after he re-erected it.
When Anthony finished cleaning the messy room and went to wash up, the little mouse was already lying affectionately with the cat again. He shook his head. Couldn't figure out these two creatures' relationship.
He closed the window. Pulled the repaired curtains. Returned to the bedroom. The bedroom was clean and tidy. Just like before he left.
Anthony burrowed into the covers. Quickly fell asleep.
He didn't actually go out to catch night-wandering students. One warning should be enough.
The next morning, he started regretting not going out. At breakfast, everyone was discussing one thing: Moaning Myrtle had helped Filch catch nine night-wandering students in one go last night.
Anthony carefully confirmed these nine students' names. To his relief, they weren't all from the first practical activity group. Only the Weasley twins were unfortunately on the list. Anthony didn't think their night wandering had much to do with whether he organized activities.
He glanced at the Gryffindor table. One Weasley brother was talking to yesterday's photo-taking girl. The other tilted his head looking at photos in Angelina's hand. Chatting with her about something. They looked completely unaffected by getting caught wandering.
Anthony took a piece of fried toast for himself. "Myrtle's mood really wasn't very good yesterday."
"I think 'furious' would be a more accurate word," Professor Flitwick said. Poured himself a full plate of jam. "She claims someone insulted her. She suspects night-wandering students. So spent the entire evening patrolling Hogwarts."
"Insulted her?"
"You didn't hear, Henry?" Professor Sprout leaned over Flitwick's head. Joined their conversation. "That poor ghost said she first went out for a walk. Got walked through by someone whose face she didn't see clearly. Didn't receive an apology. Then Peeves went to bother her. Only got chased away by Quirinus. Finally she suddenly found a note on the bathroom floor. Covered in words insulting her."
Professor Flitwick added, "She spent the whole day crying. Someone told me—the third-floor bathroom could faintly hear her voice."
"Good heavens," Anthony said. "Did she find whoever left the note?"
"No," Professor Sprout shook her head. Cut her pancake. "No one admitted it. In fact, students felt extremely wronged. They'd hidden in a locked classroom. Wouldn't have been found."
"They were all together when caught?" Anthony asked in surprise.
Professor Flitwick nodded. Said in a high voice, "Group night wandering. At least the largest number in nearly thirty years."
"How were they punished?" Anthony couldn't help asking.
"Points deducted," Professor Sprout pointed at the hourglasses on the wall. "Ten points each."
Professor Flitwick leaned over. Said quietly to Anthony, "Minerva thought it was deducted too little."
Professor Sprout said, "Severus rarely agreed with her thinking."
Anthony looked carefully at the hourglasses. Slytherin's emeralds had clearly narrowed the gap with other houses. The nine caught didn't include Slytherin students. At the other end of the staff table, Snape was gloomily dealing with fish steak before him. But his attending breakfast usually meant good mood.
Anthony shook his head. "Those students—what were they doing when Myrtle caught them?"
"Something about water guns, I think," Professor Sprout said. "Their stories were too chaotic. None sounded true."
"Ah," Anthony said. Lowered his head. Started concentrating on how to cover his toast with bacon.
After drinking the last bit of pumpkin juice from his cup, Anthony stood up. Said goodbye to colleagues. Walked toward the hall exit.
He planned to go back and check whether the cat and mouse had dismantled his office again. If all went well, he could write most of the first group's practical activity summary report today.
Passing the Ravenclaw table, Anthony found that photo-distributing Gryffindor girl already standing by this long table. Anthony heard the student holding photos asking her, "Is it true? Weasley went into the second-floor girls' bathroom to fill water guns?"
That Gryffindor froze. Said firmly, "Of course not. They just hit Myrtle's nose when testing water guns."
The Ravenclaw asked curiously, "Did the water pass through?"
This time the Gryffindor student wasn't too sure either. She looked at the ceiling. Decided, "Passed through."
"I knew it!" that Ravenclaw student said excitedly. Poked a classmate eating pumpkin pie beside them. "Hear that? Ghosts can't touch water."
"But Myrtle can make toilets splash that—big!" the friend swallowed pie filling. Retorted.
When they argued about why ghosts couldn't touch objects, Anthony had walked far enough to not hear clearly. He had a feeling—today the whole school had noticed Myrtle.
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