"Not sure I can finish all the papers tonight," Anthony told Professor Burbage. They'd just left dinner, walking down the corridor toward the staff room. The sky hadn't fully darkened, but torches were lit, casting small halos of dim light on the walls. Made the stone bricks look old and tired. Sky showed soft pale purple.
Burbage looked surprised. "You don't need to finish everything in one night, Henry."
Anthony said: "But starting tomorrow, I'll be working with students on pet adoptions."
"Oh..." Burbage glanced at him, seemed about to say something, but her gaze caught on figures at the corridor's end. "Who's that?"
"What?" Anthony asked, confused. Followed her gaze.
He saw a familiar face, tightly drawn. Took a moment to recall: "Oh, an Auror. Last time he came was investigating the troll." And Anthony's previous meeting with him had been for Azkaban.
"So what's he here for now?" Burbage shook her head, puzzled. "After Quirrell left, wasn't the troll in the dungeons sent away?"
Anthony said: "What are the odds he's here to count how many people got Troll grades this year?"
But the Auror was clearly here for Anthony. He saw him, walked over under their gazes, and said gravely: "Mr. Anthony, could you come with me?"
Burbage said, surprised: "What? What's wrong?"
"Sorry, Professor Burbage. Confidential." The Auror said stiffly, staring at Anthony tensely, as if ready to start a battle in the corridor.
Students who'd finished dinner flowed past them like water around stones, turning back curiously. Like swirling eddies. Under the gaze, the Auror straightened his back and looked more nervous.
Anthony was somewhat amused: "Did I violate the Statute of Secrecy again?"
"No, Mr. Anthony." The Auror said. "We're here to ask for your help."
Burbage asked: "You've violated the Statute, Henry?"
"That's a long story." Anthony told Burbage, then nodded to the Auror. "I'll go to my office and pack. Meanwhile, perhaps you can tell me what happened? Since you came for me, I assume I'm not within confidentiality scope?"
...
The Auror followed Anthony to the second-floor corridor. Anthony saw him pay extra attention to the door with the garlic portrait, hesitate at the open office doorway, then carefully step inside.
Anthony's office was no longer as empty as when he'd first moved in.
Right of the entrance: tall cat tree, hung with jingling toys. Beside it, a patchwork cat bed. Left side: empty hamster wheel with an ornate snuffbox inside. Calendar on the wall. Stack of library books on the desk. Lesson plans spread out. Parchment and pen scattered by the inkwell. Anthony's pre-exam study notes on top.
The cat jumped over and rubbed against Anthony. Anthony bent down, scratched behind its ear absently: "Thought you went for a walk? Good kitty. I'm leaving for a bit."
The cat wrapped its tail around Anthony's leg. Meowed softly.
Anthony turned to the Auror examining the office: "How long roughly?"
"Few hours should do." The Auror said, tone much more relaxed. He was looking at the photo on Anthony's desk corner—students had taken it at the Diagon Alley entrance. Anthony in Muggle clothing.
Anthony had been checking names against a list, head down, leaning by the open Leaky Cauldron back door. Looked perfectly calm. Behind him, students were trying to put cockroach clusters on his shoulder.
"Good." Anthony said, putting ungraded papers from his bag back on the desk.
...
While Anthony emptied his bag onto the desk, the Auror began explaining.
During one of Dumbledore's routine visits, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had welcomed him. Then the two closed the door as usual to discuss things important people discuss—namely, Fudge asking Dumbledore for ideas on handling tricky matters. But surprisingly, when the office door should have opened, it remained shut. People faintly heard someone inside repeating "That's impossible, Albus, that's impossible."
Just as people wondered what happened, Lucius Malfoy came to visit Fudge. His wife, Narcissa Malfoy, walked beside him, saying things like "Parkinson" and "something wrong with her head."
The Auror said: "After Malfoy opened the door and saw Professor Dumbledore, he asked Dumbledore to step out because he needed to discuss Hogwarts educational issues with the Minister. But Professor Dumbledore said he'd be delighted to accept criticism face-to-face. Then the three went into the office... When the door reopened, Malfoy said the Board of Governors would handle it, and Professor Dumbledore told the Minister to remember his words."
Anthony asked: "So what does this have to do with me?"
"You see, Mr. Anthony, I'm getting to that." The Auror said. "The Minister said Professor Dumbledore mentioned a Basilisk."
...
On the way to the Ministry, Anthony and the Auror kept apologizing to each other. Anthony for his clumsiness, the Auror for offensively tying Anthony to another broomstick and holding his collar while flying.
For some reason, the Ministry's fireplace wasn't connected to Hogwarts. They had to fly on brooms. Flying lessons weren't in Anthony's remedial curriculum.
"Are you really a necromancer, Professor Anthony?" the Auror shouted. Wind howled past, froze his hand gripping Anthony's collar until it turned faintly blue. To reach the Ministry fastest, they'd been given two extremely fast transport brooms. To avoid Muggle notice, they were flying in colder high altitude.
Anthony shouted back: "I am."
"Really?" The Auror said, disbelieving. "I thought we'd arrested the wrong person again!"
Anthony laughed: "I thought you'd arrested the wrong person too."
The Auror fell silent, then, lips frozen blue-purple, voice trembling, asked: "What's it like being a necromancer?"
Anthony thought for a moment: "Like having magic." He asked curiously: "What's it like being an Auror?"
The Auror said: "Way worse than school. Bet it's way worse than being a professor too."
"Being an Auror isn't good?" Anthony asked. "I heard quite a few students this year want to be Aurors. Though no seventh-year graduates have been selected yet."
Then he heard a long string of complaints. This unfortunate Auror complained about being ostracized at the Ministry, always assigned jobs nobody wanted, but salary wasn't higher than others. Before becoming an Auror, he'd thought he'd be a hero punishing evil and fighting Dark wizards—"like Mr. Moody"—but later discovered things weren't as imagined. More infuriating: sometimes he had different opinions but had to follow Ministry orders.
"I ran into my brother in the corridor today," he told Anthony. "He said students really like you, Professor Anthony. He laughed at me when I warned him to stay away from you. That brat!"
"Your brother is?" Anthony asked.
The Auror gave a name Anthony didn't recognize. Anthony asked: "What year?"
"Fifth year. Gryffindor. Just finished Muggle Studies today. He's not your student, right?"
"No." Anthony said.
"He's very regretful." The Auror said, teeth chattering. "Said your class has lots of fun activities. I guess he means the photo on your desk, Professor Anthony? When was that?"
"This year." Anthony said. "I took them to the Muggle world for a trip."
"What?" The Auror said. "Muggle world? How?"
Anthony glanced at the houses rapidly passing below: "Look, that's the Muggle world. Anytime you want, you can go."
"I really wish I could." The Auror said. Anthony looked up and studied him carefully. Wind blew the Auror's hair back, revealed his still-student-like face. His robes flapped like a student relaxing at a Quidditch pitch on weekends.
Anthony asked: "How long since you graduated?"
"Two years. Or one. Depends how you count." The Auror said.
...
During the rest of the journey, because Anthony mentioned the photo was from taking students to visit a pet shelter, they discussed pet care. The Auror told Anthony his name was Oscar Weaver, a Gryffindor graduate who'd kept a black cat at school. Now that cat was probably sleeping in his staff dormitory.
"You have a cat too, right?" Oscar asked. "The ginger one in your office. That's yours, isn't it? I saw the cat tree."
"Yes, that's my cat." Anthony said.
Oscar said: "You take really good care of it. My Blackie's fur isn't that smooth. What do you usually feed it?"
"Uh... white wine." Anthony said. Oscar looked down at him, surprised, loosened his grip, and almost dropped him.
Anthony grabbed the broom during his apologies and explained: "Actually, besides today, you've seen it before. It was the pile of bones I was holding when I went to Azkaban."
Oscar asked, shocked: "It's dead?"
"Yes, I think so." Anthony said. "Speaking of which, I should thank you. Thanks for letting me bring it along then."
Oscar looked at him and shook his head. Said thoughtfully: "I understand, Professor Anthony. If Blackie died, I'd probably want to find a way to keep her with me too. She's been with me eleven years. I'm used to her purring... I can't imagine what I'd do without her."
From the way he looked at him, Anthony felt he'd misunderstood something. He hadn't become a necromancer to resurrect a beloved pet. But this misunderstanding seemed to make Oscar much warmer toward Anthony. He even seemed to pity him.
"Do you remember Mr. Olly, Professor Anthony?" Oscar asked. "He was the one who asked why you hadn't replied to the Ministry's owls. After discovering you were a necromancer, he was terrified. He said you had a skeleton cat and a transparent chicken, but we all thought he was talking nonsense."
"I'm sorry for him. Hope he's better now." Anthony said, adjusting the rope tied around him. "But since we're on this topic, Mr. Weaver, if it's not too presumptuous—I actually don't understand why it took a year of living there before Ministry people came..."
Oscar said: "Oh, that. Actually we received a report a year ago saying a wizard in London seemed to be teasing Muggles—Apparating into graves then exploding tombstones to fake hauntings... Office people laughed at that report for ages. Said it was today's Wendelin—Wendelin was the witch who deliberately got caught and burned by Muggles multiple times. Then the matter got delayed before they sent the warning letter."
"What?" Anthony said, surprised. He'd always thought he was discovered because a skeleton cat and wraith chicken were active in his room, had wondered how they'd found the two pets who never left home. Only today learned the real culprit was making too much noise climbing out of his coffin.
"I've read your file several times," Oscar said. "Nobody wants to deal with necromancers. So after taking you to Azkaban—I think I owe you thanks, Professor Anthony. You were very cooperative then. Otherwise I probably couldn't have kept this job—whenever something involves you, it falls to me. So I basically know your file by heart."
He tightened his grip and lifted Anthony higher: "We're almost there, Professor Anthony."
Anthony mused: "So my peaceful year was actually thanks to Ministry efficiency."
"Ah, also because you moved once," Oscar said. "And for some reason, you seem unable to receive owls, Professor Anthony. Many times owls returned empty-handed, furious. That's why the Ministry had me come find you personally today."
"Oh..."
"Also, the Ministry lost seven or eight owls trying to deliver your letters," Oscar said. "They originally wanted you to compensate. That's why they sent someone. But after discovering you were a necromancer, nobody cared about those owls." He muttered: "Strange. Owls don't usually get lost..."
"Yes." Anthony said calmly.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
Read up to (100+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here:
patreon.com/GoldenLong
Happy reading, everyone!