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The holiday put everyone in high spirits.
Hagrid's face, hidden behind his massive beard, flushed bright red. He insisted on playing cards with Professor Flitwick. After Flitwick won a few rounds, he started deliberately losing. Even Anthony could tell. Hagrid, drunk and drowsy, just said happily his luck was good today.
Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, Quirrell, and Snape played a round of Exploding Snap together—cards courtesy of Filch's confiscated items storeroom. Pale-faced Quirrell lost first, then Snape with his dark expression. Finally Dumbledore's fingertips turned black from explosions. He cheerfully conceded defeat.
At his insistence, Professor McGonagall switched to a golden hat as the crown for the Exploding Snap champion.
Even Professor Trelawney stopped spoiling the mood with death predictions. She only said Professor Sprout would break her ankle watering spider plants.
"Thank you for your concern, Sybill," Professor Sprout said politely, then turned and shook her head at Professor McGonagall.
Professor Burbage pulled Anthony into a long discussion about regional differences in Father Christmas costumes. Only then did Anthony learn she was a Christmas gathering enthusiast who Apparated around the world every year to attend Muggle gatherings.
A few students ate too much and lay on house benches unable to move, still persistently stirring raspberry ice cream in their bowls. Finally Anthony and several professors floated them back to their dormitories—Madam Pomfrey insisted they needed to learn a lesson and refused to help.
Even with stars filling the sky and moonlight shining on white snow, people still laughed and chatted in the brightly lit hall. Thousands of floating candles seemed prepared to burn all night.
This might be the most elaborate Christmas Anthony had ever experienced.
The next day, Anthony packed his luggage. He planned to say goodbye to the professors, then return to London via the Floo Network—the Apparition exam was next term and he hadn't gotten his license yet.
He had few personal items to take back, so he packed several books in his mostly empty trunk: the Transfiguration notebook from Professor McGonagall, the Dark Arts book about souls from Professor Quirrell, and a copy of Fantastic Beasts borrowed from the library. And of course, that Necromancy notebook.
The feast hadn't affected student energy. Students who'd lain in chairs yesterday claiming they couldn't move were already having snowball fights around the castle at dawn. The Hogwarts gates stood open. The floor was covered with snowmelt and muddy footprints. Peeves took the opportunity to smear words in mud on students' backs.
When Anthony passed by dragging his trunk, Harry was pressing his wand to his red-haired friend's clothes, trying to clean off the word "pauper." Peeves had borrowed some creativity from the Weasley twins' insulting paint. Every time Harry cleaned it, the mud recombined into a new insult.
"Damn it!" Ron said angrily, twisting his neck to see what the mud was calling him now.
Anthony flicked his wand and removed Peeves's little trick on the mud. A tip from Professor Flitwick—a variant of the Finite Incantatem charm.
White light flashed from Harry's wand tip. The mud vanished instantly.
"Got it, Ron!" he said happily, then looked up and spotted Anthony standing in the doorway. Anthony wore his most ordinary robes, carrying his trunk, on his way to the fireplace connected to the Leaky Cauldron.
Anthony smiled and nodded at him, putting his wand away.
Since the Quidditch match, he hadn't run into Harry and his friends much. But Professor McGonagall had told him that when she announced the match results against Slytherin, Gryffindor captain Wood had jumped up immediately. Potter, though, just nodded and told his teammates he'd be faster next time—fast enough that nobody would have time to fall off their broom.
Anthony carried his trunk down the steps. He couldn't wait to get home.
"Professor Anthony!" Harry called.
"Yes? What is it, Potter?"
He turned back and saw Harry Potter say somewhat awkwardly, "Merry Christmas, Professor."
Anthony smiled. "Merry Christmas, Potter. And you, Merry Christmas, Weasley."
Ron wished him happy holidays with an odd expression. He suddenly remembered Anthony was his dad's pen pal.
As Anthony left, he heard Ron ask Harry in a low voice, "Think my dad sent Anthony a present? I bet he forgot."
Mr. Weasley had indeed forgotten. After receiving the copy of Life and Social Habits of British Muggle Families Anthony sent, he'd replied with a very long apology letter and a large bag of toffee. Now half of Anthony's trunk was full of candy.
Coming home felt completely different. When Anthony unlocked the door with his key, familiar smells rushed at him.
His neighbor called from a distance, "Mr. Anthony, you're back? Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!" Anthony said, bringing his trunk inside and locking the door.
After getting used to Hogwarts's magical keys and magical doors, the action of locking felt somewhat foreign. He secured the door according to his old habits while thinking internally that this was just an "Alohomora" away from opening.
The cat jumped out of the trunk and expertly climbed onto its favorite battered sofa. Anthony drew his wand, preparing to cast Reparo on the sofa, then thought about it and put his wand back.
"People's lives don't need this much magic," he muttered.
After putting everything away, Anthony sat on his bedroom bed and looked thoughtfully at the empty space in the room.
"Do you want to come back?" Anthony asked.
With a very soft pop, like a soap bubble bursting, the chicken sat on Anthony's bedroom floor. It looked around somewhat bewildered, then flew to Anthony's headboard and proudly occupied its favorite spot.
The cat charged in from the living room and rolled into a tangle with the chicken. It hadn't seen this companion in a long time. Unlike skeletons with absolute physical form, wraiths could only move near where they were summoned—like how Peeves only haunted Hogwarts.
"I'll figure something out," Anthony promised the chicken. "I found a notebook. Bit weird, but useful. We'll definitely find a way to get you to Hogwarts... Wait, do Hogwarts's allowed pets include chickens?"
The cat wrapped the chicken in its bone frame and rolled around under Anthony's bed.
Anthony felt the impact vibrations through the bed frame and sighed contentedly.
There'd be a way. Worst case, he'd say it was an owl that looked like a chicken.
The chicken pecked the cat a few times in displeasure and fluttered up to the top of the wardrobe. The cat excitedly swished its tail, gathered itself, and jumped up too. The whole room immediately filled with clattering sounds.
"I really am home," Anthony murmured. Without even changing clothes, he wrapped himself in his blanket and fell into deep sleep.
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