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Anthony and his cat stared at each other in standoff.
"I know, I don't like this either." Anthony held the collar. "Just try it today. As long as there's no problem, you can go out freely from now on."
Hogwarts' offices were large, but Anthony didn't want to confine his cat to a room. Since he'd accidentally encountered Mrs. Norris in the corridor (along with two fleeing night-wandering students), he'd hoped his cat could also wander the castle. This cat's temper had improved considerably—it no longer tried to kill every living thing in its territory. Anthony was greatly relieved by this, and he believed the mail-delivering owls were relieved too.
To let it go out, he'd specially made a collar that maintained a tracking charm. The inspiration came from the Trace and Professor Flitwick's magical biscuit tin. Professor Flitwick had maintained a very delicate Levitation Charm in the tin, making biscuits float at the lid's opening when opened, allowing easy retrieval.
But his cat completely failed to appreciate his efforts, only angrily arching its back slowly.
"Don't! Don't wreck the place. We won't wear it." Anthony quickly threw down the collar. He didn't want to deal with a sad house-elf. He crouched and opened his arms toward the cat. "Come, I'll hold you. That should be acceptable."
The cat watched him warily with bright yellow eyes before leaping into Anthony's arms.
"Good kitty." He said softly, stroking the cat. "Remember not to let people hold you. Your body temperature is too low."
The cat yawned impatiently.
...
The weather had been good lately. Sunlight spilled on the lawn. Students lay reading under tree shade. Couples held hands whispering in the bushes.
"Professor Anthony!" His student waved happily at him. Anthony remembered this was a third-year Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout had secretly told him his reputation among Hufflepuffs was very good. Half because he'd never docked points, the other half because his class had no homework.
"Hello there." He smiled and nodded.
"Professor, is this your cat?" The student curiously approached. He got a bit too close. The cat turned its head and stared at him. His face was positioned perfectly for attack... Anthony tightened his grip on the cat warningly. He felt certain the next second this student would need to visit the Hospital Wing to repair his nose.
The disaster didn't happen. His cat carefully sniffed the student, then sneezed disdainfully and turned its head away.
Anthony stroked the cat's head. "Yes, bringing it out to look around. It doesn't much like people."
"Can tell." A watching classmate nearby interjected. "Very few animals dislike Cedric."
Cedric laughed. "Few, but not none. Professor Kettleburn's Chimaera doesn't much like me."
"That thing doesn't like anyone except Professor Kettleburn." His classmate said dismissively. "Oh, maybe except Hagrid too. Hagrid's also very good with magical creatures. Professor Anthony, can I try petting it? Just once?"
Anthony glanced at the cat. The cat's expression he interpreted as "no."
"You'd better not." He told the student. "It actually quite likes Diggory. Just now was probably the friendliest it could manage."
"Alright." The student said disappointedly.
As Anthony walked away, he heard the Hufflepuff classmates chattering behind him. He really liked this about Hufflepuffs—they were like groups of social animals, seizing every opportunity to exchange information.
"Professor Anthony has such a good temper. How did he raise such a strange cat?"
"Maybe raising the cat made his temper good."
Anthony smiled and rubbed the cat. "Your temper is actually quite good now."
...
This student reminded him—he decided to take the cat to see Hagrid. He wasn't familiar with Care of Magical Creatures Professor Kettleburn, so among his acquaintances, Hagrid was best at dealing with animals.
Professor Kettleburn, who had only one and a half limbs remaining, didn't often visit the staff room, and Anthony had no particular reason to seek him out. But Hagrid and he got along well. Once when Anthony went to drink with Hagrid, Professor Kettleburn had actually been there too. Those two had pulled Anthony into over three hours of conversation about Ashwinders and Hippogriffs.
Though Anthony had drunk them both under the table.
He knocked on the cabin door. Hagrid's shout came from the back garden. "Over here!" Anthony went around and found Hagrid studying pumpkins in his back garden.
"I want to add some creamy flavor to them." Hagrid removed his dragon-hide gloves and wiped sweat. "Oh, what little fellow is this! Henry, is this your cat?"
"Yes." Anthony held the cat up to show him.
Hagrid bent down for a closer look. "Ah, a ginger cat." He tried to check its sex and got severely scratched, blood immediately seeping from the wound. Anthony quickly pulled the cat away and grabbed Hagrid's hand to examine it.
"It's fine, Henry." Hagrid seemed even happier. "What a lovely little thing—so alert. Hiss, I'm certain it has some very impressive magical creature blood. Ordinary cats can't do that." He shook his still-bleeding hand and said proudly, "You know, Dumbledore wouldn't just appoint anyone as gamekeeper."
"Of course, of course." Anthony said guiltily, glaring at the cat. A skeletal cat disguised as a ginger cat certainly wasn't any ordinary cat.
This creature that could easily shred a sofa now sat docilely on Hagrid's pumpkin patch, carefully licking its front paw.
Hagrid reached out to stroke its head. This time the cat didn't resist.
"See how clever it is." Hagrid said happily. "Come on, Henry, have a drink?"
...
Anthony walked back to the castle carrying a pile of Bundimun secretion-dried fish. He hadn't expected his cat would actually like eating these.
Hagrid had brought out all his dried meat supplies. The cat had haughtily surveyed them before settling on these oddly-shaped fish pieces.
"A cat that likes fish!" Hagrid had grabbed a large handful of the dried fish and tossed them into Anthony's arms. "Take them, Henry. Fang doesn't like them anyway."
The large dog called Fang had huddled aggrieved at Hagrid's feet. When opening the door, it had originally wanted to leap and lick Anthony but suddenly discovered he was holding a cat. It had barked twice before being scolded by Hagrid, finally lying on the ground sullenly.
The cat that had obtained the dried fish seemed in good spirits, its tail interestedly winding around Anthony's arm bit by bit.
"Professor! Professor Anthony!" As soon as Anthony stepped into the castle, he heard an exclamation. His cat lay calmly in his arms.
"Friar, good afternoon." He greeted the rushing ghost.
"Ah, good afternoon, Professor." The Fat Friar said. "But your office might not be so good. We've all been looking for you."
Anthony walked quickly toward his office. "What happened?"
"It's Peeves, Professor." The Fat Friar said uneasily. "He said something to Myrtle. Myrtle won't stop crying. Water overflowed from the bathroom. Your office is flooded."
Anthony asked puzzledly, "Myrtle?"
"She... she lives on the same floor as you, Professor. She lives in the girls' bathroom." The Fat Friar explained anxiously. "She means no harm. She didn't mean to flood your office."
Anthony understood. That girls' bathroom that often had crying sounds had a sad ghost living in it. He'd originally wondered which student was always so upset while their Head of House showed no concern.
"It's alright, Friar." He consoled. "Let's go back and look first."
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