Anthony had to intervene with this blatant curfew-breaker. "Miss Parkinson, what are you doing out of bed?"
Pansy looked annoyed, seemingly unaware that "Anthony who deducts Slytherin points" had the power to punish her. "I'm going to find Davis!" she exclaimed.
"Excuse me?" Anthony asked.
"She did it on purpose!" Pansy cried. "She...she didn't go back to the dorm. She wanted to get back at me!"
Anthony couldn't follow her logic.
"That little sneak! If she gets caught... if she loses points... it'll be my fault!" Pansy wailed. "She made me forget, but luckily Draco reminded me..."
The Muggle Studies professor, who could still deduct points, regarded this foolish girl silently. Under Anthony's gaze, Pansy seemed to suddenly realize she was also out of bed and had just admitted to knowing about another student breaking curfew.
Her face paled. "Professor... Professor Anthony..." she stammered, a flicker of intelligent thought crossing her usually pug-like face.
"If I understand correctly," Anthony said, "there's another student out after hours?"
"No, Professor," Pansy said firmly, backtracking.
"Then why are you out here? I heard you say you were going to find someone."
Pansy thought hard, then shook her head. "No, Professor. I'm sleepwalking. All alone."
Anthony sighed. "One week of detention, Miss Parkinson. I'll inform you of the details tomorrow. It's late; go back to bed. And don't use that kind of language again, or I will take points next time."
"Yes, Professor," Pansy mumbled, scurrying back towards the dungeons.
Anthony didn't bother reminding her to be quiet. If she got caught and lost points, it wouldn't be his problem.
He returned to the infirmary, where Tracey was still sitting on the bed, surrounded by steam, her books neatly stacked on the bedside table. She stared into space, lost in thought. Anthony knocked on the open door.
"Professor?" She looked up in surprise.
Anthony got straight to the point. "I just ran into Miss Pansy Parkinson on the stairs. She was on her way to the Astronomy Tower to find you."
Tracey's lips tightened. "Then she's out of luck," she said calmly. The small girl clenched her hands, straightened her back, and looked intently at Anthony.
"Did you take points?" she asked quietly.
Anthony shook his head. "Detention."
"Oh."
Anthony looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Get some rest, Miss Davis. And remember," he emphasized, "if you need anything, talk to your Head of House."
Tracey gave a soft, cynical laugh in the midst of the steam, then nodded meekly. "Okay, Professor."
...
Pansy's foolishness continued to amaze Anthony. He encountered her again on his way back.
This time, she had remembered to muffle her footsteps. She clutched her shoes in her hands, walking barefoot and cautiously, glancing around nervously. Her eyes met Anthony's, who was watching her with a thoughtful expression.
Pansy's face went white. "Professor, I'm lost," she stammered.
Anthony nodded. "I believe you, Miss Parkinson. You're only a few steps from being back on track."
"I really am lost," Pansy insisted.
Anthony looked at her blue-tinged feet and sighed. "Put your shoes on, even if you are lost. And if you're looking for the student on the Astronomy Tower, I've already seen her."
The first-year Slytherin gasped, her eyes suddenly filled with resentment and malice.
"I didn't take points," Anthony said, looking up at the castle. "But you, Miss Parkinson, have lost two points for your second nighttime excursion. Go back to your dormitory."
Pansy gritted her teeth and muttered, "Fine." She shoved her feet into her shoes and ran back towards the dungeons.
Anthony hoped he wasn't making a mistake. He truly didn't understand the inner workings of Slytherin. He also didn't know what Pansy planned to do about those lost points... which, coincidentally, were the exact same number Tracey had lost in Astronomy class.
But he would find out. After all, Pansy was still scheduled for a week of detention with him.
...
When he ran into Roger Davies in the library, Anthony pulled him aside to discuss his sister. The student, so focused on his studies and Quidditch, seemed oblivious to the fact that his sister's life was far from normal - even by Slytherin standards. She was clearly struggling in ways he didn't comprehend.
"Even at home, she was always quite introverted," Roger recalled. "But during the last Quidditch match, I asked her to bring water to our team, and no one in Slytherin seemed to react strangely."
He frowned, racking his brain for any signs of Tracey being bullied. Sometimes he didn't see her at meals - he assumed she was just studying. After all, every Ravenclaw dorm had at least one student who needed to be reminded to eat.
She occasionally went to the infirmary - but that was common in Slytherin, whether due to fights, injuries, or stress.
She always went to classes alone - but she was half-blood and neglected by her father. That level of isolation was considered mild in their house.
The "Slytherin routine" Roger described shocked Anthony. His impression of Slytherin students had been shaped by the likes of Malfoy, who flaunted his wealth, and the Quidditch players who recklessly threw themselves from their brooms.
He hadn't considered the many fringe students who existed outside that core group, the ones who earned the house points but also bore the brunt of any "punishment" for losing even a few points.
Slytherin, it seemed, had devolved into a rigid, hierarchical society.
"She always told me nothing was wrong," Roger said, sounding remorseful. "I should have paid more attention. Thank you, Professor."
Anthony shook his head silently.
...
His office was about to host its first detention student. Anthony had asked his colleagues for advice, learning that most detentions involved menial tasks for the professors.
But Anthony's goal was to solve the problem.
He decided to have a proper conversation with Pansy Parkinson first... Judging by the look on her face when he took points, simply "talking" to Anthony might be torture enough. But Anthony wouldn't miss this opportunity.
He had never truly spoken to a Slytherin student before. His own students were from other houses, and they all disliked Slytherin to varying degrees.
"Slytherins are like cockroaches," one student had once bluntly stated in class. "They lurk in the shadows, but they're everywhere. Some people fear them, some hate them, and some don't care much either way."
Anthony didn't understand cockroaches, nor Slytherins. He needed more information to grasp what was happening. He didn't even understand why Slytherin was so obsessed with house points - it was just a trophy, after all.
Many of his students acted as if grades didn't matter, and losing points was just "bad luck." But in Slytherin, it seemed to mean "I am a failure."
Anthony needed to know why.