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Tracey said goodbye to Pansy. She approached the stairwell corner where Anthony and the Wraith Mouse were hiding, her wand still raised with quiet precision. She eyed the spot where the tomato had vanished with sharp suspicion, but found nothing. Finally, she lowered her wand, hesitated for a moment, and continued up the stairs.
Anthony watched her disappear around the bend. He reached down, opened his pocket, and whispered, "Thoughts?"
The mouse had already bitten off the tomato's stem and was now chewing through the flesh with slow, blissful determination. It looked up at him, tiny eyes gleaming.
The pocket was soaked with tomato juice. Anthony pushed the mouse's head back down onto its prize with a silent, scolding look, then slipped out of the shadows.
Pansy was a few paces away, frantically jabbing her wand at her own legs, which were glued tightly together. She was muttering the counter-charm under her breath, but her voice was rushed and shaky. She kept misplacing the emphasis or forgetting the sharp wand-flick.
Several enchanted tomatoes were still bouncing around her feet, thudding and rolling, making a ridiculous amount of noise.
"Finite… Finito… Stop it, you stupid things!" Pansy hissed, her pug-like face scrunched in fury as she strained against the spell.
Her head snapped up. She stared down the corridor. A pair of lamp-like eyes glowed in the dark. Mrs. Norris stood there, wheezing. Her matted fur looked like a dead bush in the flickering torchlight. She stared at the dancing tomatoes. Then she let out a loud, rasping yowl.
"Shut up, you old hag!" Pansy snarled. "Finite Incantatem! Fini— Damn it!" She seemed to give up on the charm entirely. Instead, she began to hop. She gripped the wall, bunny-hopping desperately toward the stairs, creating more noise than the tomatoes and the cat combined.
Anthony raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem."
Her legs sprang apart. She stumbled forward, pitching down several steps. Anthony hurried toward her, but she caught the railing and scrambled upright. Mrs. Norris darted to the top of the staircase but skidded to a halt just before colliding with Anthony. She arched her back, hissing, and retreated down the corridor.
"Davis?" Pansy whispered, voice shaky. "What are you doing?"
Mrs. Norris continued her hoarse yowling. Pansy shot one last glance at the cat and scurried down the stairs, probably finally headed for the dungeons.
"What is it, my sweet? Found something?" Filch's voice echoed from the corridor. "Let's see… oh." His tone was a mix of disappointment and rage. "Tomatoes. Fourth time tonight, my dear. When I catch the brat… when I get my hands on them…"
Mrs. Norris kept yowling, staring right at Anthony's spot on the stairs.
"What?" Filch's voice turned suspicious. He peered toward the staircase. (Anthony pressed himself deeper into the shadows.) He scooped up Mrs. Norris, holding his lantern high to examine the walls. "There, there, my sweet. I know. They'll pay…"
While he muttered, Anthony slipped away.
…
"You think they're done?" Anthony asked the mouse. "The cat and the chicken, I mean."
He was crouched before a low bookshelf in the Staff Room, scanning the titles. The Wraith Mouse was still in his pocket, diligently working through the tomato.
"I never imagined there were so many editions of Gilderoy Lockhart's Adventures with Dangerous Creatures," Anthony muttered, half to the mouse, half to himself. "Paperback. Hardcover. Ah, collector's edition… First printing. 1990 Bestseller Celebration Edition… Wonderful. Revised edition. French translation. German. American version. Why? To change all the 'Muggles' to 'No-Majs'? Reprint. Another revised edition… Oh, this one's signed… Want a biscuit?"
The mouse pushed a very firm NO into his mind, accompanied by a polite sense of gratitude.
"Fair enough." Anthony pulled a random volume off the shelf and settled onto the nearby sofa. At least Lockhart had good taste in couch cushions.
After a while, the mouse finished its tomato. It crawled out of the pocket, using the damp fabric edge to wipe its face and paws.
Anthony glanced over. He held up Travels with Trolls and read quietly: "…The troll dragged over the dead Graphorn. I used a Severing Charm to slice it open, skin it, and remove the entrails. To the troll, it must have seemed incredible that I could accomplish tasks it could not manage with this small stick, my wand. I wanted to roast all the meat over a fire, but the troll remained somewhat fearful of my Fire-Making Charm, so I only cooked my portion. In the meantime, I ate several tomatoes as a salad. The troll saw this and immediately began grunting, snorting, and waving its club. I later understood it thought I was starving, to abandon the meat for such a strange and unappetizing thing."
The Wraith Mouse paused its cleaning. It let out a tiny, indignant squeak.
Anthony chuckled, setting the book aside. He reached over and stroked the mouse's back. "Conclusion: trolls are not gourmets."
Satisfied, the mouse scurried up his robes and settled into the crevice between his neck and the sofa back, ready for a nap. Anthony leaned back, closing his own eyes. "You know, I don't think their fight is over either. I hope they don't pull the chandelier down again."
A soft chuckle sounded behind him.
Anthony's eyes flew open. He sat up straight, whipping his head around. The Wraith Mouse tumbled into the gap between him and the cushions, but righted itself instantly, burrowed out from the soft pillows, and vanished back into his pocket.
A tall, thin figure was leaning against the Honors Display Cabinet. His long silver beard and hair nearly brushed the bottom of Lockhart's portrait frame.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore smiled. "My apologies for disturbing your rest, Henry."
"It's fine, don't worry about it… Sir, what are you doing here?" Anthony asked, glancing at the clock between the bookshelves. "Three in the morning?"
"I believe I could ask you the very same question. Shall we skip the formalities?" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Good morning, Henry."
"Good morning." Anthony watched as Dumbledore strode past a few stray decorative balloons and settled into the armchair opposite him.
"Ah, Gilderoy's adventure series!" Dumbledore said. "Nicolas asked me to send him a set after he left Britain. You understand, too many people tried to track them down, so a visit to Flourish and Blotts was out of the question, and they don't offer international mail order just yet."
"Did he like them?" Anthony asked.
Dumbledore considered this. "Well, regarding adventures… Nicolas mentioned he once dueled a Hungarian Horntail…"
Anthony laughed. Dumbledore caught his eye, a mischievous glint in his own.
The Wraith Mouse, having recovered from the shock, slowly emerged from the tomato-juice-soaked pocket. It clambered over a button and, under the watchful eyes of both wizards, disappeared into the dry pocket on the other side.
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