Prank Filch and Fried Sausage

When Anthony returned to the castle, it was already dinner time. Hagrid and Fang headed back to their cabin ("Next time, Henry, we'll definitely go to the bookstore!"), while Anthony trudged to the Great Hall for dinner.

What weighed heavily on his mind wasn't just the death of the unicorn but also the Acromantulas' identification of the murderer—a human. This meant that either a dangerous individual had somehow infiltrated Hogwarts, or that this person was one of his students or colleagues.

Either possibility threatened to disrupt the stable life at school that Anthony had finally adapted to and grown fond of.

The hall was filled with warm, comforting aromas. Potatoes and fried sausages were piled high on silver plates, decorated with violets dusted with icing sugar. As the weather warmed, even students who usually avoided vegetables were willing to take a spoonful of the salad mixed in crystal-clear bowls. Glass shelves stacked with small cakes stood tall next to a large bowl of steaming chocolate ice cream.

Anthony walked past the house hourglasses—thankfully, not much had changed—then through clusters of students animatedly discussing the recent British Quidditch League ("Puddlemere has the best Chasers in the world!" yelled a Gryffindor, nearly spilling salad dressing on Anthony). He stopped two careless buyers from trading History of Magic essays right in front of the professor and witnessed the beginnings of a prank.

"Be careful, Mr. Thomas," Anthony kindly warned, just as he noticed one of the Weasley twins grinning while picking up a teapot to pour water for Dean Thomas.

"Professor Anthony?" Thomas looked up in surprise, glancing between Anthony beside him and the staff table, "You... cough cough cough..."

He choked on a piece of bacon, his face turning red. In his haste, he grabbed the nearest teacup and raised it to his mouth—

"No, wait..."

But it was too late. Under the expectant eyes of the onlookers, the teacup immediately clamped down on Thomas's nose.

"Oh!" Thomas yelped, tugging at the teacup handle while trying to free his nose. "Fred! George!"

The Weasley twins were watching with delight from within the crowd.

"Here we are," Fred said cheerfully.

"What do you want us to do?" George added, looking around. "Oh, Alfie, that nose ornament is really unique."

He reached out and scratched the bottom of the teacup. The cup immediately released Thomas's nose, rolled on the table, and then shrank back as if it were ticklish.

Thomas picked up the teacup, turned it over to inspect it, and said angrily, "Yeah, take a closer look—doesn't this have Zuko's symbol on it?" He rubbed his now bright red nose, "This is seriously strict!"

"You shouldn't have pulled it," the classmate next to him remarked, leaning in to examine the cup. "I've got to say, this is pretty clever!"

Seeing his classmate's eyes sparkle with interest, Anthony had a feeling he'd be seeing a lot of students with red noses in the corridors over the next few weeks.

"That's why I told you to be careful, Mr. Thomas," Anthony said, unable to suppress a smile himself.

...

Because most of the professors had gone to attend Professor McGonagall's report dinner, the staff table was mostly empty. Dumbledore, as busy as ever, was absent, leaving his seat in the middle like a silent monument. Across the high chair belonging to Professor Flitwick, the caretaker Argus Filch sat gloomily, nodding at Anthony from a distance. Mrs. Norris was at his feet, her eyes following the flight of several owls with a longing meow.

Anthony considered his options and decided to sit next to Filch with his plate. Filch looked startled. His thick-knuckled hand trembled slightly, causing the dinner plate to emit a sharp groan.

"Good evening, Professor Anthony," Filch greeted, his bulbous eyes bulging in panic as he glanced at Anthony suspiciously.

Anthony nodded. "Good evening, Mr. Filch."

"What's going on over there?" Filch asked, nodding curtly toward the noisy Gryffindor table, his tone filled with gleeful malice.

"Nothing serious," Anthony replied nonchalantly.

He had noticed the commotion, but it wasn't anything dangerous—certainly not worth sending anyone to clean the toilets over. Though he had heard plenty about the Weasley twins being troublemakers, his interactions with them throughout the school year—and the letters exchanged with Mr. Weasley—had given him confidence that the brothers were generally harmless.

On the other hand, he and Filch had always had some... let's say, differences in educational philosophies, and both were well aware of it. They hadn't spoken much since Anthony had politely interrupted Filch's rant about Muggle torture methods.

Their cats didn't get along either.

Once, while walking with his cat, Anthony had encountered Mrs. Norris. The gray-haired feline had arched its back, lowered its tail, and bristled all over. Anthony's ginger cat, meanwhile, had arrogantly rubbed against his calf. As Anthony bent down to scratch its head, the cat narrowed its eyes contentedly, watching indifferently as Mrs. Norris slunk away along the wall.

But Anthony hadn't sat here today to cause Filch any trouble. They were far from enemies, and there was no need to emphasize their differences across the long staff table.

Anthony took the initiative, choosing a relatively safe topic. "The fried sausage today is a bit more burnt than usual, isn't it?"

Filch frowned and responded cautiously, "Quite right, Professor."

"I didn't expect so many people to attend Minerva's report," Anthony continued, watching the students below as they waved roasted lamb ribs in mock duels.

Filch's cheeks twitched with a terrifying expression as he glared at the students, who had grown bolder in the absence of most professors. Right under their noses, a junior Ravenclaw was using a fork to pierce a fried sausage, waving its slightly yellowed, crispy end at a cherry cake in front of him. "Yuga-Dimlviosa," he muttered.

His eyes widened in shock when the cake actually floated, nearly big enough for him to take a delicate bite.

The classmate next to him, impressed by the floating cake, eyed the mountain of fried sausages in front of him and cautiously skewered one with his fork.

Anthony stared blankly at the lettuce and bacon on his plate, pretending that everyone should hold their wand under the table while eating.

As the student continued chanting the spell, Anthony couldn't resist taking out his wand. He discreetly pointed it at the cake from beneath the staff chair and whispered the levitation charm.

Filch twitched his nose and curled the corners of his mouth, reminding him, "Professor Anthony, magic is not allowed in the castle halls and corridors."

"My apologies," Anthony replied, controlling the cake to gently land on the student's plate before neatly retracting his wand and focusing on cutting his bacon.

By this time, everyone at the Ravenclaw table had a fried sausage on their plate.