Dumbledore is finally in school

"So the basilisk is no longer a threat?" Dumbledore inquired.

Now that Dumbledore was present, Fawkes no longer needed to exert himself. The moment Anthony entered the Headmaster's office, the phoenix retreated to the highest shelf. Anthony wouldn't be surprised if Fawkes preferred the rafters if the office had any.

Anthony nodded. "I believe so, Headmaster." Unless, of course, there was a whole happy basilisk family residing in the castle.

That morning, as soon as Anthony had arrived at the gargoyle with Dumbledore's note, it had stepped aside without prompting.

He climbed the spiral staircase. The door to the Headmaster's office stood open, and Dumbledore sat behind his desk, examining a peculiar golden pocket watch. He looked up as Anthony entered and calmly invited him to sit, as if this meeting had been prearranged.

Anthony recounted the events of the previous night.

He began with the Room of Requirement, mentioned the Hog's Head's back yard (Albus Dumbledore gave a subtle shake of his head at the mention of his brother's name), then explained how the passage had led him to discover the basilisk's lair, and how Snape and Quirrell had assisted him (Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in interest).

He hesitated, but then confessed to Dumbledore about the impact the cat's condition had on him. Since Aberforth Dumbledore had claimed his brother never fired professors, perhaps Anthony could get a lengthy vacation out of this.

Dumbledore listened attentively, then told Anthony that self-control became an eternal challenge once one realized their power. He could only offer advice based on his own experiences, but ultimately, Anthony had to navigate this path himself.

"Henry, since you've asked me, even if it seems harsh, I suggest you remember how you felt when you thought you'd lost your cat. The regret, the pain, the fear of yourself." Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm. "Those emotions serve as a constant reminder to wield our power with care."

Fawkes craned his neck from the shelf to look at Dumbledore and let out a soft trill, as if in comfort. Its clear song echoed through the office, momentarily silencing the snores of the portraits of former Headmasters lining the walls.

Dumbledore smiled. "You may not realize it, Henry, but you're fortunate. Your cat is back. I'm so happy for you." Anthony was surprised to see Dumbledore's long fingers tremble slightly. "But please don't take it lightly. Fate enjoys playing games of fortune and misfortune. When you feel everything is going your way, that you're invincible, be cautious."

"I will," Anthony promised.

He also told Dumbledore about his chickens and the mouse.

"As long as you agree, I'd rather not create physical bodies for them. Let's keep it simple," Anthony said. "Peeves roams Hogwarts freely, so why can't there be a few transparent animals that appear out of nowhere? It's a magic castle, after all."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, Henry. As long as you ensure they don't start throwing statues around, I see no problem."

"I can guarantee that," Anthony said. "In fact, I doubt they could even lift a statue. Peeves is surprisingly strong, Headmaster."

"Not even a figurine," Dumbledore said seriously, a twinkle in his eye.

"Alright, not even a figurine," Anthony assured him. "They're harmless. Well, my cat is an exception."

Before Anthony left, Dumbledore asked if there was anything else he wanted to tell him, anything at all.

Anthony thought for a moment. Besides the eventful night, everything else seemed normal. Since he had decided against giving the spectral chickens physical bodies, his only concern now was how to relocate them to Hogwarts.

"I don't think so," he said, then suddenly remembered something. "Oh, by the way, when I was investigating the basilisk, Snape assumed I had brought the troll into the school."

"I apologize on his behalf, Henry," Dumbledore said.

"It's not about that, sir," Anthony frowned. "I'm just curious, who did let the troll in?"

He left feeling slightly puzzled. As he walked down the stairs with two lemon drops in hand, he nodded to Professor McGonagall who happened to be coming up. He couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore had a knowing smile as he bid him farewell.

"Albus isn't gone yet?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Not five minutes ago," Anthony replied.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Excellent." She clutched a hefty stack of parchment in her hands.

Anthony watched her stride towards the Headmaster's office, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

...

There were no classes that day. Upon returning to his quarters, Anthony shed his coat and collapsed onto his newly repaired bed. The cat and mouse had claimed the south-facing windowsill and the north-facing closet, respectively, observing each other across the room.

"You two are going to get along, right?" he asked with a hint of drowsiness, hoping for some rest.

But as soon as he closed his eyes, a loud crash startled him awake. His wardrobe lay flat on the floor, mice scurrying among the scattered clothes.

The cat sat regally beside the wreckage, tail curled, as if it had nothing to do with the chaos.

Anthony sighed and began repairing the wardrobe. Neither the mouse nor the cat emitted strong emotions that he could sense, so he optimistically assumed they were just playing.

After fixing the wardrobe, Anthony sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating. He decided to leave the playground to his two new summoned companions and go for a walk.

He stepped out and knocked on Professor Quirrell's door. After last night's events, he hoped Quirrell had gone to the hospital wing. Even if not, he hoped the man was at least uninjured. But these weren't his primary motivations. If anything, he knocked simply because Quirrell lived nearby.

There was no answer.

Anthony knocked again, wondering if Quirrell had morning classes. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, responsible for an entire year level, certainly had a heavier workload than an elective teacher with only two years. He considered visiting Myrtle instead.

But after a while, he heard movement from within, and the door creaked open, revealing Professor Quirrell, looking even paler than before. He asked, sweating profusely, "Professor An-Anthony?"

"I hope you slept well, Professor Quirrell," Anthony said. "I came to ask." He hesitated, then improvised an excuse. "I wanted to know if you like lemon drops?"

He opened his hands, revealing two sweets, gifts from Dumbledore.