The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Anthony found it difficult to sleep tonight. Hagrid's dragon, Parkinson's injury, Quirrell's unanswered letter, and all kinds of other messy and trivial things, all crawled out from under the bed in the dark night, covered on the sheets, under his Wandering around the pillow, pulling his hair and nibbling on his ears. Even the thick, quiet and never-ending black river could not drag him into the dream.

He sat up from the bed and pushed open the window. The night wind was cool and comfortable, the moonlight fell brightly on the ground, and a thumping sound came from the black lake in the distance, causing a tremor in the quiet night... Anthony knew that it must be the giant squid playing in the water.

The cat wasn't sleeping either, and was looking at him with two yellow lightbulb-like eyes. It jumped onto Anthony's pillow and lay down in the sunken cotton pit made by his tossing and turning. Anthony looked around and didn't see his mouse.

Okay, go to sleep. Anthony muttered, feeling as if he was the only one awake in the whole castle.

He stood up and decided to say hello to the giant squid. It just so happens that he still has some bread in his inventory, which can be used as a greeting gift for new friends.

…

He opens the door humming a song (I'm a giant squid, I never sleep, I crush everything), walks briskly halfway down the corridor, and then suddenly stops. The torches burned silently, and the corridor was deserted—it seemed deserted.

But deep in Anthony's consciousness, he could feel something with the aura of the undead quietly passing by him without disturbing the slightest breeze. A very, very faint aura of undead magic, very similar to the aura of undeath possessed by a skeleton cat... Professor Quirrell, or another unlucky guy who was attacked by a cat.

Antony remained silent, only pretending that he was suddenly very interested in the gilt torch base, and was admiring the rough wavy stripes on it with great interest. Shadows danced before his eyes, and his attention was entirely focused on the invisible guy behind him.

The person - probably a human being - was slowly approaching the stairs, then rushing up the stairs with unusual speed. Anthony stared at the brick wall in front of him. If that was Professor Quirrell, Anthony wanted to ask him if he would consider a career change. He could imagine that if Quirrell was willing to become a firefighter, with his stair-climbing speed and a powerful hand of clear water and fluorescent flashes, he could become a model for firefighters across the UK.

Anthony suddenly felt another very small ball of undead magic appearing next to him. Very small, but pure, made entirely of dark magic - the little mouse had found an apple out of nowhere and was rolling the sweet red object across the corridor.

Do you like apples? Huh? Anthony asked in a low voice, putting both the mouse and the apple into his pocket.

squeak.

He soon could no longer detect the faint breath of undead magic. He had an urge to turn around and go back immediately, shut himself in the room with the cat, feed the mice apples, pretend that nothing happened that night, pretend that he didn't know something was sneaking around in the castle, and continue to do it. The fantasy of your own peaceful life.

But he took a deep breath and stepped onto the stairs.

He took a few steps and then started running. He ran faster and faster—rats clinging to the edges of his pockets, apples swaying in his robes and banging against his thighs—and then stopped abruptly. That wisp of undead magic was not far away, in the corridor: the corridor on the right side of the third floor.

No matter who you are. Anthony said to the air in front of him, his voice echoing emptyly on the brick wall, This is very dangerous - I repeat Dumbledore's words: Anyone who does not want to die innocently, please do not step in Corridor on the right side of the third floor.

But the unknown invisible man only paused briefly before continuing to walk swaggering down the corridor on the right side of the third floor. The sizzling lasers, flying magic spells, arrows flying from the walls, or the spikes or swamps growing on the ground...none of them appeared in Anthony's imagination.

Anthony took a cautious step forward. The floor tiles held his feet firmly, without sinking suddenly or turning into a big bite. At this moment, Anthony really wanted to know how Dumbledore defined step in and innocent death.

The aura in front headed straight for a door with a clear purpose. The door looked locked, but with a crisp click, the doorknob was turned open. Then, before Anthony could react, the melodious sound of a harp came from the door.

Great, really leisurely and elegant.

Amidst the soft and clear music like flowing water, Anthony caught up with him and opened the door: Professor Quirrell, is that you?

It was Quirrell who stood in the room. He wore a black robe, a scarf, and a wide black hood, hiding his face. If he hadn't been too thin and stooped, Anthony might not have been able to identify him at a glance.

Quirrell was standing next to three - wait, no, one - huge three-headed dogs. He carefully placed a harp that he was playing at the feet of the big dogs, as if he had trouble All this effort is just to let this dog enjoy some elegant music.

What is this? Anthony asked doubtfully.

Quirrell didn't answer. He kicked away the soft paws of the sleeping big dog, raised his pale face wrapped in a big scarf, smiled at Anthony, bent down and opened a trap door (Anthony had been staring at him since he came in, even He didn’t even see anything like this on the ground) and jumped straight down.

Wait a minute! Anthony quickly grabbed the door panel.

It was dark, wet and cold down there. He heard a dull thud, then a muffled grunt. Quirrell landed.

Without any time to think, Anthony also jumped down. What was under the door was much deeper than he imagined, as black as a tomb. With the faint light coming from the small hole above his head, Anthony could see several damp walls that reflected light in bits and pieces. This is a surprisingly large room.

With a strange noise, he also landed. Under him was something cold and slippery, like some weird plant. The plant was moving quietly, sliding away from Anthony like water and rushing to a place not far from him.

Ah, Devil's Vine. I'm still looking forward to something more exciting. Another person's voice suddenly came from the room. It doesn't even sound like Quirrell, because it no longer has that stumbling, uncertain tone to it.

A bright flame ignited from the tip of Quirrell's wand, and the vines that had just wrapped around his ankles immediately shrank and twisted away from the range of the light. Under the blue firelight, on Quirrell's pale face, the flashing light in his eyes was full of enthusiasm and madness.

Professor Anthony, it's nice to see you. He nodded to Anthony, Do you mind if I close the door a little? I can't stand the cold wind.

He coughed twice and waved his hand, and the trap door above them suddenly closed. In this dark and damp room, the only source of light was the wand he held steadily.

Anthony became alert and reached into his pocket covertly. He touched the bread and apples, as well as the wraith mouse that moved its head and nudged his finger. Because he only wanted to feed the giant squid when he went out, Anthony wore his old checkered pajamas and a velvet dressing gown, and he didn't bring his wand.

Where is this, Professor Quirrell? Anthony asked.

Quirrell continued as if he had not heard his question: What a pity, I have to meet you in this place... I was expecting a more tasteful room, not this- His wand He turned it around deftly in his hand, and the vines that were illuminated immediately curled up, leaving a large open space beside him, ——Bad environment. If we meet again tomorrow as agreed...

Did you reply? Anthony asked with a frown.

Quirrell was stunned for a moment, as if he had not thought of this problem. He said: I'm back.

Okay, Anthony said confused. He did not receive a reply.

Quirrell coughed a few more times before continuing: But no matter what, we still met. Me and you, with our original appearance and identity.

Wait...what do you mean?

Quirrell smiled, as if facing a child who still wanted to quibble, and he said patiently: Look around you - the devil's net doesn't think you are alive anymore, Professor Anthony - Mr. Necromancer.

What about you? What is your original appearance and identity? Anthony heard himself ask.

Quirrell chuckled softly, seeming to find his question very interesting.

Me? Of course I am Quirinus Quirrell, but it may not be the same as the one you imagined or heard about. Quirrell said, I am not a pitiable, bullied by a student. The Quirrell who bullied... I'm much stronger than you think, Professor Anthony. Since I know what I really want, since I understand the rules of how this world works... He clenched his wand, flames Suddenly he jumped several feet taller, I'm no longer that incompetent, stupid boy.

Apart from squeezing the apple and looking at Quirrell, Anthony didn't know what else he could do. He almost felt like he was trapped in a strange dream. It couldn't even be called a nightmare, it was just ridiculous.

Follow me, Antony, said Quirrell, turning into a long stone corridor.

Anthony followed him, looking at the back that he showed to him unscrupulously, weighing in his mind how likely it was that if he threw the apple over at this time, he would knock Quirrell unconscious and drag him to Madam Pomfrey. Anthony, on the other hand, couldn't help but wonder: Where on earth were they now? What did Quirrell want to show him?

They arrive at a slightly more tasteful room filled with flapping, shiny keys. The room was brightly lit, as if all the candlesticks saved from the previous room had been moved here.

Flitwick, Quirrell said simply, as if he already knew what was waiting for him here. He strode across the room and knocked on the door with his wand. As if being caught by an invisible thread, a key flying in the air staggered, and then flew awkwardly into Quirrell's hand. Quirrell grasped it roughly and opened the door.

Come in, Professor Anthony, he said politely, I'll walk behind you.

Is there anything you want to tell me, Professor Quirrell? Anthony asked, Since we have already made an appointment to meet tomorrow, it shouldn't be a problem if we meet a little earlier?

Quirrell said: You will soon understand, Antony. Get in.

This is another huge, cold room. Although it was dark when Antony entered, as soon as Quirrell stepped into the room, all the lights in the room suddenly came on, illuminating a huge chessboard.

McGonagall. Quirrell turned around and coughed a few times before continuing to introduce, I gave you a reminder, do you remember? Ah, just as I expected, you forgot... Tsk, this is not good...

Anthony asked: What's the hint?

My purpose for coming to this school, your purpose for coming to this school. Quirrell said, It's just that none of us thought that you were looking in the wrong place... Yes, Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets certainly sounds more like a burial It's a place that holds the secret of eternal life, isn't it? But it's quite touching that you are willing to share it... We were planning to go there tomorrow to see what you found there...

So, there is a secret to eternal life behind this? Anthony confirmed. Considering that Dumbledore gave him a topic to study resurrection, it is not impossible for the principal to store a secret of immortality in the school-provided that such a thing really exists.

Quirrell said: Yeah - no need to pretend anymore, Professor Anthony, Henry, my friend. We can enjoy it together and study it together, as long as you join us! It is very difficult to disguise yourself as harmless as a human or an animal. Yes, but this feeling is also very charming...I must say, you are doing much better than me——

He suddenly trembled, as if remembering something, but he quickly continued: -It's so much better. But now, victory is just a few doors away, and the sweet fruits are within reach. Yes, you don't have to No longer pretend to study Muggles or spend time as a professor, but you can explore the topics that really interest you: life, death, soul, resurrection... What a wonderful and powerful topic...

Anthony looked at Quirrell, suspecting that he had joined some terrible organization of scientific research madmen.

Quirrell was still saying eagerly: My - he is right, you have no nostalgia for Hogwarts, nor do you have any feelings for students or colleagues. When you look at the students, you see It's just responsibility, right? You know what a professor should be like, so just act according to the professor in your heart...very smart, very powerful, very, very... Quirrell trembled again and trailed off. , ice cold.