HP: The Necromancer

"I'm not sure I can finish reading all the test papers today," Anthony said to Professor Burbage. They had just finished dinner and were walking down the corridor to the staff room. The sky had not completely darkened yet, but the torches were already lit, casting small circles of dim light on the walls, making the stone bricks look old and worn. The sky was a soft lavender color.

Professor Burbage looked a little surprised. She said, "You don't have to finish it all in one night, Henry."

Anthony replied, "But starting tomorrow, I'll be working with the students on pet adoptions."

"Oh..." Professor Burbage glanced at him as if she wanted to say something, but her attention was drawn to a few people at the end of the corridor. "Who is that?" she asked.

"What?" Anthony asked, puzzled, following her gaze.

He saw a somewhat familiar, tense face, and after recalling it for a moment, he finally remembered who it was. "Oh, an Auror. The last time he came to the school was to investigate the troll incident." Anthony's first encounter with him was during a trip to Azkaban.

"Then what is he doing this time?" Professor Burbage shook her head in confusion. "Wasn't the troll sent away after Quirrell left?"

Anthony said, "What are the chances he's here to tally how many people got a T in their troll exams this year?"

But the Auror was undoubtedly here for Anthony. As soon as he saw Anthony, he walked up to them and said in a deep voice, "Mr. Anthony, could you please come with me?"

Professor Burbage asked in surprise, "What? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Professor Burbage, but I'm bound by confidentiality," the Auror said firmly, staring at Anthony nervously, as if he was ready for a confrontation in the corridor at any moment.

Students passing by after dinner flowed around them like water around a stone, turning back to glance curiously at the group from time to time, forming a swirling eddy of attention. The Auror, looking increasingly tense, tightened his posture.

Amused by the Auror's nervousness, Anthony asked, "Did I violate the Statute of Secrecy again?"

"No, Mr. Anthony," the Auror replied, "We actually need your help."

Professor Burbage asked, "Have you ever violated the Statute of Secrecy, Henry?"

"That's a long story," Anthony said to her, then nodded to the Auror. "I'll go back to my office to gather my things. In the meantime, can you tell me what's going on? Since you're asking for my help, I suppose the situation is no longer confidential?"

…

The Auror followed Anthony to the second-floor corridor. Anthony noticed him eyeing the garlic portrait with extra caution and hesitating again at the open office door before carefully stepping inside.

Anthony's office was no longer the bare, empty space it had been when he first moved in.

To the right of the entrance was a towering cat tree, with various jingling toys hanging from it. Next to the cat tree was a patchwork cat bed, and on the left sat an empty hamster cage with a wheel inside. There was a calendar on the wall, and a stack of books borrowed from the library on the desk, next to open lesson plans. Parchments and quills were scattered beside the ink bottle, and on top was the exam material Anthony had been preparing.

A ginger cat sauntered over, rubbing itself against Anthony's legs. Anthony bent down and scratched behind its ears casually. "I thought you went for a walk? Good cat, but I have to leave for a while."

The cat wrapped its tail around his leg and let out a soft meow.

Anthony turned to the Auror, who was eyeing the office curiously. "How long will this take?"

"Just a few hours," the Auror said, his tone more relaxed. He was now staring at a photograph on Anthony's desk—one of him at Diagon Alley in Muggle clothing, leaning casually against the Leaky Cauldron's back door while a few students tried to sneak cockroaches onto his shoulders.

"That's good," Anthony said, placing the unmarked test papers back on his desk.

…

As Anthony emptied the contents of his bag onto the table, the Auror began explaining what had happened.

During one of Dumbledore's routine visits to the Ministry, he was welcomed by Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. Afterward, they closed the door, as usual, to discuss some private matters—essentially, Fudge seeking Dumbledore's advice on various difficult situations. But surprisingly, when the office door should have opened, it remained tightly shut, and faintly, someone inside could be heard repeating, "It can't be, Albus, it can't be."

Just when people were wondering what had happened, Lucius Malfoy arrived to visit Fudge. His wife, Narcissa Malfoy, walked beside him, muttering words like "Parkinson" and "Something wrong with the brain."

The Auror said, "When Malfoy opened the door, he saw Professor Dumbledore. He asked Professor Dumbledore to step aside because he happened to be discussing Hogwarts education matters with the Minister, but Professor Dumbledore replied that he was happy to accept criticism in person. So, the three of them entered the office. When the door opened again, Malfoy said that the school board would handle the issue, and Professor Dumbledore reminded the Minister to remember what he had said."

Anthony asked, "So what does all this have to do with me?"

"You see, Mr. Anthony, I was just getting to that point," the Auror said. "The Minister mentioned that Professor Dumbledore had brought up the subject of a basilisk."

…

On the way to the Ministry of Magic, both Anthony and the Auror apologized to each other. Anthony apologized for his clumsiness, and the Auror, clearly annoyed, tied Anthony to another broomstick and flew by gripping his collar.

For some reason, the Floo Network at the Ministry of Magic wasn't connected to Hogwarts. This meant that the two had to fly to the Ministry on broomsticks, and flying was not one of the skills Anthony had mastered through his tutoring.

"Are you really a necromancer, Professor Anthony?" the Auror shouted, as the wind whistled past them and the cold turned his hand—gripping Anthony's collar—a shade of blue. In their rush to reach the Ministry quickly, they were provided with extremely fast broomsticks, and to avoid being seen by Muggles, they flew at a high altitude where it was even colder.

Anthony shouted back, "Yes."

"Really?" the Auror asked, incredulous. "I thought we might have arrested the wrong person again!"

Anthony smiled and said, "I thought you had arrested the wrong person back then too."

There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the wind. After a while, the Auror, his lips blue from the cold, asked, his voice trembling, "What's it like being a necromancer?"

Anthony thought for a moment and replied, "It's like magic." Then, curious, he added, "What's it like being an Auror?"

The Auror answered, "Far worse than going to school, and I bet it's far worse than being a professor."

"Isn't being an Auror a good job?" Anthony asked. "I've heard that many students in this class aspire to become Aurors, but it seems none of this year's seventh-year graduates have been selected yet."

Then came a litany of complaints. The unfortunate Mr. Auror lamented that he was marginalized by his colleagues at the Ministry of Magic. He was always assigned the jobs no one else wanted, but his salary wasn't any higher than theirs. Before he became an Auror, he imagined himself as a hero fighting against dark wizards, "just like Mr. Moody." But later, he realized things were different from what he had envisioned. What was even more frustrating was that sometimes he disagreed with the Ministry's orders but had to carry them out anyway.

"I ran into my brother in the hallway today," he told Anthony. "He said the students all like you, Professor Anthony, and he laughed at me when I warned him to stay away from you. That brat!"

"Who is your brother?" Anthony asked.

The Auror mentioned a name Anthony didn't recognize. "What year is he in?" Anthony asked.

"Fifth year," the Auror said, "Gryffindor. He just finished his O.W.Ls in Muggle Studies today. He's not one of your students, is he?"

"No," Anthony replied.

"He was very upset," the Auror continued, his teeth chattering from the cold. "He said there were a lot of fun activities in your class. I assume he was referring to the photo on your desk, Professor Anthony? What's that about?"

"That's from this year," Anthony explained. "I took the students to visit the Muggle world."

"What?" the Auror exclaimed, "The Muggle world? How did you manage that?"

Anthony glanced at the rapidly passing scenery below them. "Look down—that's the Muggle world. You can visit anytime you like."

"I wish I could," the Auror said. Anthony looked at him closely. The wind had blown the Auror's hair back, revealing his still student-like face, and his wizard robes flapped in the breeze, making him resemble a student relaxing on the Quidditch pitch on a weekend.

"How long has it been since you graduated?" Anthony asked.

"Two years—or one, depending on how you count," the Auror replied.

…

As they flew, their conversation turned to the photo Anthony had mentioned, where he had taken students to visit a pet rescue center. The Auror introduced himself as Oscar Weaver, a Gryffindor graduate. He told Anthony that he had owned a black cat during his time at school, though it was likely sleeping in his staff dormitory now.

"You also have a cat, don't you?" Oscar asked. "The ginger one in your office—is that yours? I saw it climbing the shelves."

"Yes, that's my cat," Anthony confirmed.

Oscar said, "You take good care of it, but my cat's fur isn't as smooth. What do you usually feed it?"

"Uh... white wine," Anthony replied. Oscar glanced down in surprise, loosening his grip on the broom and almost dropping him.

Anthony quickly tightened his grip on the broom, apologizing, and explained, "Actually, you've seen it before today. It was the pile of bones I carried when I went to Azkaban."

Oscar asked in shock, "Is it dead?"

"Yeah, I think so," Anthony said. "By the way, I should thank you for letting me take it with me."

Oscar looked at him, shaking his head thoughtfully. "I can understand, Professor Anthony. If my cat, Heihei, died, I'd probably want to keep her close, too. She's been with me for eleven years. I'm used to her purring... I can't imagine what it'd be like to lose her."

From the look in Oscar's eyes, Anthony realized there was a misunderstanding. Oscar seemed to think Anthony had become a necromancer just to resurrect his beloved pet. The misunderstanding, however, appeared to make Oscar feel closer to him, even showing a bit of pity.

"Do you remember Mr. Ollie, Professor Anthony?" Oscar asked. "He's the one who came to ask why you weren't responding to the Ministry's owls. He was scared to death when he found out you were a necromancer. At that time, he said something about you having a skeleton cat and a transparent chicken, but we all thought he was talking nonsense."

"I'm sorry for frightening him. I hope he's better now," Anthony replied, adjusting the rope tied to him. "But since we're talking about it, Mr. Weaver, if you don't mind me asking, I've never quite understood why it took a whole year before someone from the Ministry came to see me..."

Oscar explained, "Oh, that. Well, we actually got a report about a year ago, claiming a wizard in London was pulling tricks on Muggles, apparating into graveyards and blowing up graves to make it seem haunted. People at the office had a good laugh, calling it 'today's Wendelin'—Wendelin the Weird, you know, the witch who deliberately got caught and burned by Muggles over and over. The matter got delayed, and they eventually sent out a warning letter."

"What?" Anthony said in surprise. He had always assumed he was discovered because of his skeleton cat and wraith chicken, wondering how they'd even found his two pets who never left the house. He was just now realizing that it was the noise from his coffin trick that had caught their attention.

"I've gone through your file several times," Oscar continued. "Nobody wanted to deal with a necromancer, so after taking you to Azkaban—oh, by the way, I think I owe you a thank you, Professor Anthony. You were really cooperative back then; otherwise, I might not still have this job. Anyway, since I handled that case, I've been assigned to you every time something comes up. I practically have your information memorized."

He adjusted his grip on Anthony again. "We're almost there, Professor Anthony."

Anthony mused, "So my peaceful life that year was thanks to the Ministry's efficiency?"

"Well, that and the fact that you moved once," Oscar added. "Also, for some reason, you weren't receiving owls. The ones you sent out often came back undelivered, and people got pretty angry about it. That's why the Ministry had me come in person today."

"Oh…"

"Plus, the Ministry lost seven or eight owls trying to deliver a message to you," Oscar said. "They were originally going to make you pay for them, but once they found out you were a necromancer, no one cared about the owls anymore. Strange, though. Owls usually don't get lost like that."

"Yes," Anthony said calmly.