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No matter how much the school wished to keep the whole matter secret, students always found out when something happened.
First, Slytherin noticed a large chunk of gems had disappeared from their hourglass. Then Gryffindor discovered Neville Longbottom was hospitalized. Next, Hufflepuff heard the Black Lake had turned into a lamp, several Board members appeared in Hogwarts corridors, creaky old staircases were renovated, and finally Ravenclaw observed several students suddenly avoiding Anthony.
"Did you know?" students whispered privately. "Professor Anthony deducted one hundred sixty points from Slytherin."
"Which professor?"
"Professor Anthony—Anthony, who never deducts points."
"Hiss..."
"Not only that, the Slytherins were also given a month's detention. Snape's face went black."
But no one guessed what the group had done. The most outrageous (yet most widely circulated) version claimed Slytherins had pushed Neville down the stairs. He'd rolled all the way from the castle to the Black Lake, knocking Professor Anthony's precious flashlight—in some versions a gift from his first love, in others a family heirloom—into the Black Lake.
People who actually understood what flashlights were refuted this story. Some students, having just finished Fun Chemistry, insisted what fell was an alkali metal.
"Why would a large hole suddenly appear in the ice?" they analyzed. "Because it released intense heat!"
These rumors couldn't affect Anthony yet. He was currently receiving a student... Neville Longbottom.
He sat in the only guest chair in Anthony's office, looking quite uncomfortable. The chair was a bit too large for him, so when he scooted back, his feet couldn't reach the floor, making him look somewhat comical.
"What's wrong, Longbottom?" Anthony asked. "I thought you'd return to your dormitory."
When he'd opened his office door, he never expected the person knocking would be Neville. Almost as soon as Madam Pomfrey declared he could leave the hospital wing, he'd come over.
Neville said with lowered head, "I came to thank you."
"You already said thank you," Anthony said in surprise. "I should even apologize to you. I was nearby but couldn't stop it before everything happened."
"I... I..." Neville stammered, pulling out a heavy, jingling bag from behind him, face flushing red.
He looked very pained. "My Gran said that wasn't proper thanks... she... this is two hundred Galleons..."
Anthony quickly pressed down his hand. "Good heavens, what are you doing?" He looked at Neville's tear-filled eyes and softened his tone. "Child, the school pays me a salary. Want some hot chocolate?"
The warm glass cup in his hands seemed to make Neville feel much better. He sipped the hot chocolate in small gulps and told Anthony about his grandmother.
He said his Gran was very good to him, but he was always disappointing, so he let Gran down time and again. Malfoy had defeated him with very simple methods, leaving him in a sorry state, nearly costing him his life, so Gran was very angry. But since he hadn't died after all, Gran was somewhat relieved.
He shrugged. "I almost thought I was finally going to drown, but I suppose only my will to survive is passing grade."
Anthony opened a bag of crisps and handed them to him.
"Oh, thank you." Neville took one and said thoughtfully, "You know, Professor? The Black Lake and I are old friends. When everyone thought I was a Squib, only Great Uncle Algie didn't believe it. Once he pushed me off the Black Lake dock, trying to make me show some magic."
He ate crisps, swinging his legs, recalling with some amusement, "Of course, nothing happened. I nearly drowned. Our family was ready to let me live in the Muggle world."
"Is this kind of thing common?" Anthony asked gently. "To make children display magical talent, they... try to push them to desperate straits?"
Neville shook his head, then nodded. "Fairly common in pure-blood families, I suppose." He glanced at Anthony and hastily added, "Our family isn't that kind of pure-blood! I—when I'm in third year, I'll definitely take your class—as long as I haven't been held back or expelled."
He became dejected. "I'm not good at any subject. Without Hermione helping me, I couldn't even finish class exercises. Maybe I really am more suited to being a Squib."
Anthony comforted him. "You're only a first-year."
"I'm only a first-year, but I've already ruined three cauldrons," Neville said. "I can only ever get a P in Potions."
"Then you're better than me. I dare say I could only get a T." Anthony looked at Neville's widened eyes and smiled. "What, you didn't know? I wasn't a Hogwarts student. I lived in the Muggle world until now. I know nothing about Potions. Professor Snape looked down on me for quite a while because of it."
Neville laughed. "But you deducted one hundred sixty points from Slytherin. Now Professor Snape"—he shuddered—"has to respect you. Sigh, not just Potions. I often disappoint Professor McGonagall too..."
Anthony nodded. "My Transfiguration isn't great either. If I were good at Transfiguration, you'd be sitting in a properly sized chair right now."
Neville stared at him eagerly and said quietly, "And Charms..."
Anthony—a magical novice quite skilled at Charms who'd repeatedly received enthusiastic praise from Professor Flitwick—immediately changed the subject. "Speaking of which, I know almost nothing about Herbology either."
Neville showed a somewhat embarrassed smile.
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