Quidditch

Anthony saw Neville off and settled into a chair, his mind churning. He decided to seek out Hagrid for a drink and some company.

...

The winter sun dipped below the horizon early, painting the western sky with streaks of gold. In the distance, the majestic silhouette of Hogwarts loomed against a canvas of deep blue and purple. A chilling wind rustled the dry grass, prompting most students to seek refuge by the castle's warm fireplaces.

Hagrid wasn't in his hut, so Anthony continued his search, eventually spotting him near the Quidditch Pitch.

"Henry!" Hagrid boomed, a giant broom clutched in his hand. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Came looking for you, Hagrid," Anthony replied. "Stopped by Hogsmeade and picked up some white wine and brandy. Thought you might be interested."

Hagrid's eyes, like large black beetles, gleamed with delight. "Brandy, eh? Now that's right up my alley!" He glanced down at the broom. "Not now though, Henry. Still got some work to do."

The broom bundle resembled a cluster of mismatched twigs in Hagrid's massive hands, pitifully squashed together.

"What are you up to?" Anthony inquired.

"Defrosting these beauties," Hagrid proclaimed proudly. "Gotta do it every morning with this blasted cold. Quidditch season's in full swing, Henry, and we can't have them youngsters flying on frosty broomsticks. Too stiff, they are, and slippery underfoot."

Anthony watched with amusement as Hagrid meticulously polished and oiled the brooms. "No worries," he said, "I'm free today. Happy to keep you company as long as you'll have me, even if it means a night on the Quidditch Pitch." The cold didn't bother him, and he wouldn't mind Hagrid's company, even if it meant spending a night under the open sky.

"Ever been to a Quidditch match?" Hagrid rumbled.

"Not yet," Anthony admitted. "Professor McGonagall offered me a ticket for the Gryffindor-Slytherin game."

Hagrid's face lit up. "Brilliant! That's the next one! I'll be there too, wouldn't miss a Gryffindor game for the world. Know the rules, do you?"

Anthony chuckled sheepishly. "Well, I gather it involves people flying on broomsticks and chasing a ball…?"

"Blimey, Henry, that won't get you far!" Hagrid bellowed with good-natured amusement. "First, there's the Golden Snitch, the most important ball of them all. And do you know what a Seeker is?"

Hagrid launched into a passionate explanation of Quidditch rules, history, and terminology. From the Golden Snitch and the Seekers to the Chasers, Beaters, and Keepers, he regaled Anthony with tales of legendary Gryffindor Quidditch players throughout the ages. The broom creaked ominously in his massive hands as his enthusiasm grew.

"Charlie's flying is great!" he said excitedly, waving his big hands in the air, gesturing for Anthony's goalposts on the field, "Here he is here one second, and he can rush here the next second. But I dare say Harry is not bad at all, and James has always said that his son will become a Quidditch star!"

His hand suddenly stopped, and his shaggy beard twitched.

"Hagrid?" Anthony quickly held his elbow, "What's wrong with you?"

"I...I really hope James can see Harry playing Quidditch." Hagrid piled all the brooms into the broomstick shed, slammed the door, and said stiffly, "Let's go have a drink, Henry. .Gryffindor will definitely win the next game." 

 ...

A "drink" with Hagrid translated to emptying his entire stock of wine. Anthony, feeling the effects himself, asked, "How's Aragog doing these days?"

"Brilliant, thank you for asking," Hagrid replied. "He was quite frightened last time. Didn't mean to be rude and not say goodbye. He's always been a gentle soul, a true friend..."

"Good to hear," Anthony said. "Can he still sense the Basilisk?"

Hagrid scratched his head. "He avoids the topic these days, but I reckon he can't. Though, he hasn't been keen on leaving his nest for a while. Maybe the beast has perished by now."

A sliver of unease lingered in Anthony. "Perhaps I should investigate the Basilisk soon. Surely, a dead creature of that size leaves a body behind."

A week and a half passed since the rooster parade, and Anthony found himself mimicking Hagrid's actions. He cautiously explored the castle's corridors, searching for any trace of a massive magical corpse. His search yielded nothing.

Unless the Basilisk was exceptionally small or miles away from Hogwarts, he should have been able to sense its remains. Yet, Hogwarts was far too immaculate to be the final resting place of such a monstrous creature. He did stumble upon a hidden chamber overflowing with small animal bones – likely leftovers from Potions lessons, dead mice, toads, and the like. Even larger bones, presumably from meals served in the Great Hall, were present. All other refuse was meticulously composted.

"This wine is truly excellent, Henry," Hagrid boomed, gulping down another goblet. "Where did you get it?"

"The Muggle world," Anthony replied with a smile. "While we can't brew wine with magic, I must say, Muggles have perfected this particular art. Ordinary wine, brandy for example, is often superior to its magical counterpart. And much cheaper, I might add."

Indeed, with his salary converted from Galleons to pounds, everything seemed like a bargain when it came to acquiring Muggle supplies.

...

Anthony left three or four bottles of wine for Hagrid and returned to the castle. It was already curfew time, and there was no one on the whole road. Only the light of the torches in the castle shone through the windows. He saw a dark figure walking cautiously on the stairs, looking around to see if anyone had noticed.

Anthony smiled. He didn't plan to catch students wandering at night today... and he never did. Although he often wandered outside after curfew (thank God, he was a professor rather than a student), and met several students who went out late at night for adventure or dates, as long as they did not go to the right corridor on the third floor or the restricted book area Even if he was running, he wasn't unlucky enough to bump into him, so he basically didn't care.

He himself suffers from insomnia and knows that if he can't fall asleep, he just can't fall asleep.

I don't know which student came out alone this time. Judging from his body shape, he should be a senior student.

Anthony just let his thoughts wander. Under the influence of alcohol, he felt a little lazy, as if he was immersed in a gentle dream.

It was a sunny day again today, and the stars in the sky shone above his head, emitting a distant, cold diamond-like light.

If Anthony felt something, he turned back and stared at the Forbidden Forest. In a dark forest, a silver-white horseman looked at him from a distance. When he saw him looking over, he nodded to him, turned around and walked back to the dense forest.

###

You can read upto 10 advance chapters on my p@treon page

patreon.com/Keepsmiling818