With a smile, Anthony dismissed the class, encouraging them to think carefully about their choices and submit them in the next lesson.
"Remember to discuss it with your families," he reminded them. "I'll be sending a letter to your guardians, and you can only participate with their written consent."
Before he had even reached the end of the corridor, the sounds of shuffling tables and excited chatter reached him from the classroom. The firelight flickered as students eagerly discussed their preferred destinations.
Anthony chuckled to himself, then turned back towards his office to gather some materials before heading to the library to log the information.
Despite Professor McGonagall's approval and extensive preparations, there was still much to be done: informing parents, ensuring safety measures were in place, coordinating with the various destinations regarding visitor numbers and timings, confirming the purchase of two-way train tickets, and so on.
"You're always creating more work for yourself," Professor Burbage had remarked disapprovingly when she heard about his plan.
Anthony had simply shrugged. "Like Pomona with her four back-to-back Herbology theory lessons, or you deciding to have your senior class attempt shepherd's pie."
Professor Burbage paused, then smiled ruefully. "I suppose every professor has their own way of making trouble for themselves."
...
After drafting a letter for the student's parents and a set of notes for the students themselves, Anthony stretched, deciding to unwind with a book from the library shelves.
As he opened his notebook, he was reminded of the many research topics he had saved: tracking the Basilisk's whereabouts, disguising the Wraith Chicken, and the task assigned to him by Dumbledore, "What a person who wishes to be resurrected might do."
Despite his initial intentions, Anthony knew that this afternoon's research would inevitably lead him to the Restricted Section. Even when he first arrived at Hogwarts, he had cautioned himself against indulging in curiosity beyond his duties. He was intrigued by the forbidden corridor on the third floor but had never ventured near it. Now, however, he was starting to resemble a dark wizard infiltrating the school with ulterior motives.
His library borrowing history wouldn't help his case. Someone unaware of his true intentions might assume he planned to resurrect a monster, while the Ministry of Magic might suspect him of plotting mass murder.
To his surprise, Anthony encountered Professor Quirrell by the Fantastic Beasts bookshelf in the Restricted Section.
"Happy New Year, Professor Quirrell," he greeted.
Quirrell jumped, startled. "Happy New Year, Professor Anthony," he replied nervously, hiding a book behind his back.
Anthony assured him he wasn't intruding and engaged in small talk while scanning the bookshelf titles. "Thank you for the book you sent me. It was very helpful."
Especially since it led to a bear materializing in his kitchen.
"My pleasure," Quirrell mumbled. "Th-thank you for the calming tea and cufflinks."
"It was the least I could do, Professor Quirrell," Anthony replied sincerely.
He found a copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and pulled it off the shelf. If a basilisk had eyes that Myrtle described as "huge, bulbous yellow eyes," it was safe to assume it was a sizable magical creature.
Quirrell looked at him oddly. "Does your... class project require magical creatures?"
Anthony considered the question. He hadn't thought about using magical creatures for resurrection before.
"Not yet, but it's a good idea," he said thoughtfully. Then his eyes lit up. "A phoenix! That's it! Thank you, Professor Quirrell!"
Quirrell stammered, "You're... welcome."
...
Anthony jotted down "Fawkes" in his notebook, reminding himself to consult Dumbledore, Hogwarts' resident phoenix expert.
How could he have overlooked it? The phoenix, a creature capable of rebirth from its own ashes, was practically synonymous with "resurrection." It constantly cycled through death and rebirth, emerging unscathed each time.
Of course, Anthony didn't expect to actually study Fawkes directly. He simply hoped to glean some insights. Did a phoenix even have a soul? Death seemed to have no hold on it—it was remarkable that it didn't become some sort of undead bird.
Not only was it not an undead creature, but the phoenix was also a champion of the living.
The large, golden-red bird didn't seem particularly fond of Anthony. On several occasions when he attended meetings in the headmaster's office, Fawkes would perch as far away as possible, its long, elegant neck bent in a doze.
However, Dumbledore had once noticed Anthony's interest and invited him closer with a smile.
"Fawkes doesn't peck," Dumbledore had assured him, "at least not often. Sometimes he wakes up and finds my beard irresistible."
The phoenix seemed to understand Dumbledore's words. It raised its head from beneath its wing, fixing a steady gaze upon him.
"Well, well, I seem to have offended it," Dumbledore chuckled.
...
In "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," Anthony found the information he sought.
The book described the basilisk as a creature hatched from a chicken egg incubated by a toad. Like Hagrid's specimen, it was highly sensitive to rooster crows, which were lethal to it. However, if it entered a deep slumber, it wouldn't need to eat and would be immune to the rooster's call.
"According to records, basilisks rarely enter deep slumber naturally," the book stated. "However, a dormant basilisk is no different from a hibernating snake, exhibiting significantly reduced aggression and posing no threat to wizards."
The text referenced another book, which supposedly contained more detailed information on breeding and raising basilisks, as well as accounts of their interactions with magical creatures and the unfortunate demise of some of their caretakers.
Anthony noted the title of the book: "My Lovely Big Friend."
He wondered if anyone had ever gifted Hagrid a copy for Christmas.
Using a modified version of the Levitation Charm taught to him by the clerk at Flourish and Blotts, Anthony attempted to locate the book. However, neither the Restricted Section nor the general shelves seemed to house this dangerous tome with a deceptively innocent title.
Once again, Mrs. Pince insisted that the book should indeed be in the library's possession.
"I'll catch that thief," she declared, fiercely brandishing her feather duster at the shelves. "Stealing books! Mark my words, Professor Anthony, this culprit will be dealt with. They most certainly don't have permission to access the Restricted Section... Filch mentioned several students roaming the school at night during Christmas... perhaps that's when the diligent Mr. Filch was occupied..."
She trailed off, lost in thought. Anthony wished her luck and quietly made his exit.
This past Christmas holiday, he had turned a blind eye to at least three couples sneaking out at night. But he couldn't imagine them choosing the Restricted Section for a romantic rendezvous... he hoped.