"Please sit down, Miss Parkinson," Anthony said politely.
Pansy stood defiantly for a moment, then pulled out a chair and sat rigidly. The chair was a comfortable size, a testament to Anthony's growing skill in Transfiguration.
As Anthony sent the detention notice via school owl to the Slytherin table, he watched Pansy sullenly rip up the note under the table, angrily stab a few baked potatoes, then slam down her utensils and leave.
No one asked where she was going. She stormed off, roughly shoving past two students trading Chocolate Frog cards.
"Try not to scrape the chair so loudly, Miss Parkinson," Anthony said. "Look, this is the first time I've given a student detention, and I'm guessing it's probably your first time too... No? How many detentions have you had?"
Pansy muttered, "Twice," then added "Professor" under Anthony's prompting gaze.
"Alright," Anthony said. "What did you do during your last detention?"
"Cleaned classroom windows without magic," Pansy said with a scowl. She clearly wasn't fond of chores.
Anthony mused, "Is not using magic considered a punishment?"
Pansy looked as if he'd said something absurd, but nodded. "Yes, Professor."
"Then you won't be allowed to use magic during this week's detention either," Anthony shrugged. "I didn't realize. Muggles get along just fine."
"Yes, Professor."
"What classes did you have today?" Anthony asked abruptly.
Confusion flickered across Pansy's sullen face. "Transfiguration and Potions in the morning, then Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon," she replied.
"Sounds like a busy day," Anthony commented. "Even though you had to wake up early, you still chose to search for Miss Davis late at night when she hadn't returned to the dormitory. You two must be close friends?"
"No - I mean, yes, Professor Anthony. We're friends."
Anthony smiled. "I noticed Miss Davis is in her second year and you're in your first. How did this friendship blossom?"
He could almost hear the gears turning in the girl's head. She stammered, "I-she was being bullied, and I helped her. She was grateful, and we-we became friends."
The wind howled against the windows of Anthony's office, as if protesting something.
"Very commendable," Anthony said approvingly. "But are you able to help second-year students avoid bullies after only a few months at Hogwarts?"
"Of course," Pansy replied without hesitation. "I'm a Parkinson."
Ah, there it was.
"The Parkinson family..." Anthony echoed. "A family of pure-blood witches and wizards, correct?"
Pansy drew herself up, a hint of offense in her voice. "Yes, I'm a pure-blood. My entire family was in Slytherin."
"That's wonderful. I hope you enjoy this school that has nurtured your family," Anthony said.
Pansy looked confused, but for the first time since sitting down, she seemed to relax. She leaned back slightly and nodded. "I do."
"And your family? Do they enjoy it as well?"
Pansy replied with pride, "Every notable person loves Slytherin." She glanced at Anthony, saw he wasn't going to interrupt, and continued with satisfaction, "It's obvious, isn't it? Slytherin is the best house. No other house can match Slytherin's power and influence."
She spoke smoothly, as if reciting a well-rehearsed speech. "We value the development of the mind - unlike those Gryffindor idiots. We are the elite, selected after the most rigorous tests - unlike those mediocre Hufflepuffs. We have clear goals and are destined for greatness - unlike the Ravenclaw nutters. Slytherin has always worked hard to advance the wizarding world. We maintain the purity of magical blood and shape the future of magic."
Anthony listened quietly. She seemed so rehearsed, as if she'd repeated these words a thousand times. When she finished, he asked, "The purity of magical blood?"
"Those wizards who fancy strange things..." the Slytherin student sneered, completely oblivious to the irony of being in the Muggle Studies professor's office. "Sometimes they choose to marry filthy Muggles. And Mudbloods," she wrinkled her nose in disgust, "they—they dare call themselves witches and wizards?! But we, we understand the importance of blood purity and lineage."
"So, being a pure-blood witch gives you more influence in the house?" Anthony asked. "What about Miss Davis?"
"She... she's a half-blood," Pansy said, her face twisting as she refused to elaborate.
Anthony nodded sympathetically. "It must have been difficult to overcome prejudice and befriend her. What made you decide to help Miss Davis?"
Pansy stared at the inkpot on Anthony's desk, then stammered, "I—I felt sorry for her."
"No wonder you risked breaking curfew to find her," Anthony said. "It's admirable to care for your classmates, Miss Parkinson, but you didn't need to go looking for her yourself."
Pansy shook her head stubbornly. "If I didn't, she might have lost points."
"Are house points really that important?"
The young Slytherin sat up straighter, glaring at the professor who had dared to leave the Slytherin hourglass empty. "Of course! They determine who wins the House Cup!"
"A yearly competition with no prize except a trophy," Anthony remarked.
Pansy bristled. "As long as there's a competition, Slytherin will win! I won't—we won't—tolerate people like her triumphantly stepping over us!"
The wind slammed the window open, and a cat leapt inside, shaking off the rain.
"Well, I have no further questions," Anthony said, smiling. "Thank you for chatting with me, Miss Parkinson. Due to the offensive nature of your remarks, your detention tomorrow will involve cleaning the windows of the Muggle Studies classroom."
Pansy stared at him, as if only just remembering she was in detention. "But I have Astronomy class tomorrow evening!"
"Then clean the Astronomy Tower windows," Anthony replied calmly. "You'll serve your detention after class. Don't worry, I'll be there promptly."
Pansy took several deep breaths but couldn't manage a word of protest.
"The Astronomy Tower, Miss Parkinson," Anthony reminded her. "Don't make me take more points from your precious Slytherin. That wouldn't be my intention."
"Yes, Professor Anthony," Pansy ground out between clenched teeth.
She slammed the door behind her. Anthony tapped the chair she had pushed aside with his wand, restoring it to its normal size. The cat hopped onto the now-empty seat, unceremoniously kneading the cushion with its wet paws.