The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

The lid of the crucible trembled slightly under the impact of steam, and the cellar was extremely quiet.

Anthony stood there, expressionless, taking a deep breath. A malicious smile appeared on Snape's sallow face, and he said with satisfaction: Admit it, Anthony, you are just showing off. Just like you pretend to stand up for the students-

Shut up, Snape, Anthony whispered.

Shut up? I don't think so. Snape sneered, What, you have already tried it? Dear grandfather, I'm sorry, your bones have been eaten by wild dogs-

Anthony snapped: I said shut up!

His voice echoed in the cellar. There was a sudden faint rattling sound from the cabinet where the potion ingredients were stored, and something was shaking in the huge glass jars and small crystal bottles. Several jars on the top floor flipped over and shattered into sharp pieces on the ground with a crisp crackling sound. Yellow-green liquid soaked in something unknown flowed all over the floor.

Snape fell silent, and the wand suddenly appeared in his hand. He took half a step back, his cold and guarded expression replaced the sarcasm of the previous moment.

Anthony frowned tightly and closed his eyes.

Grandma’s cake, Grandpa’s candles, the square sunlight cut by the window lattice on the table. He took a deep, deep breath, but he could still hear the sarcastic voice in his mind, like it was echoing in the long tomb passage.

No, he didn't mean to hurt anything. He wasn't thinking about how Snape would be smashed to pieces like those jars - Snape deserved it - and then Antony would push him gently into the black river. By then, Snape would have understood what death was and why Anthony hadn't even tried to bring his grandfather and grandmother back from death.

Necromantic magic gently arched his back, wrapped coaxingly around his hands, encouraging him.

The hourglass on the table suddenly screamed, and the white steam of the potion floated in the air. The flame was so weak that it was about to go out. Anthony opened his eyes and saw that the top of the hourglass was clean and empty, as if it was a sentence: you have no time.

…

Suddenly, it seemed that he was not standing in a dark and gloomy cellar, but in a sunny room. Grandma is cooking in the kitchen. He cleared the bucket and gave his grandfather a glass of water.

Grandfather leaned on three pillows, smiled at him, and raised his hand with difficulty. Anthony put the cup into his grandfather's hand and closed his thin fingers - his grandfather's hand could only be called slightly warm, the skin was dry and thin, stretched on the bones, Anthony squeezed tighter - Lift the water glass to his lips little by little.

I'm sorry, Little Brush, Grandfather said breathlessly, with a strange noise rolling in his voice, I shouldn't have gotten mad at you... I didn't mean it - you shouldn't...

Anthony shook his head and raised the cup a little higher.

Really, I'm sorry for having this damn disease...

Anthony said softly: I know, it's okay, Grandpa.

Little Brush, my boy, said the grandfather. None of the words I said... it was not what I meant, do you understand? Forgive me, and especially don't imitate my bad words. Your grandmother will be angry with me. . His intention seemed to be to tell a joke, but Anthony felt very sad.

She won't, Anthony said, his lips trembling. I'm going to say it.

This was the only peaceful conversation they had in months. Three days later, on a quiet night, my grandfather passed away. Anthony cursed at the funeral and his grandmother slapped him. Then she hugged him and cried.

…

Before Snape could react, Anthony suddenly picked up the hourglass that happily sang about the passage of time and threw it against the wall.

He took a deep breath.

The room seemed to twist upside down. The door fluttered in the sky, the carpet was balled up, and the armchair lay limp on the floor as if it had melted into a puddle of wax.

Beside him, bottles and cans in cabinets and shelves fell one after another, exploding into powder. Fine powders of glass and crystal were floating in the air, shining like billions of stars. The still intact ingredients for the potion—the spines of lionfish, buckets of dead rats and snakes, the carcasses of salamanders and horned toads soaked in preserving fluid—twitched tentatively among the shiny fragments. .

Everything is out of whack and everything is where it shouldn't be. Several cans of bat wings flew precariously from the shelf, hooked by the moving dragon claws, entangled together, and flew around the room.

Snape was gripping the table next to him as if trying to hold himself in place. He raised the hand holding the wand several times, but it never came up.

Like a strong wind passing by, the glass shards in the room were spinning, the chandeliers were shaking violently, and the floors were creaking. The walls of the room were wrinkled, like a newspaper that had been rolled up and thrown aside.

Then with a bang, the chandelier shattered, like an exploding sun. Anthony felt a dull burning sensation, and then a clang as the shards of glass that had penetrated his arm were forced out by the rapidly healing wound.

He lowered his head and looked blankly, and saw a stain of blood on the ground. It was strange, he didn't remember bleeding so much.

Then he discovered it was Snape's blood. Snape's face was sallow, his brows were frowning, and he was clenching his teeth and leaning on the table, looking almost unsteady on his feet. Anthony shook his head. Under the cover of the black robe, it was difficult for him to see where he was injured, but the fragments of the chandelier obviously did not just favor him.

Anthony raised his hand.

Calling God——

The sarcastic whisper lingered in my ears again.

Anthony shook his head and tried again, Calling God to Guard!

Gray-black mist surged out. It was thin at first, and then quickly gathered into a huge black shadow.

A bear appears in the cellar. Its huge body seemed extremely cramped in the room filled with furniture and debris. One of its hind feet stepped into the empty fireplace, flattening the iron grating in front of the fireplace. The red light emitted from the tip of the staff flashed past and disappeared into its thick black fur.

The table was overturned due to its squeeze, the flame under the crucible had been extinguished, and the crucible rolled twice on the ground before slowly sliding open the lid. A mixture of brown and purple potion slowly flowed out from inside.

Antony is under the belly of the patron saint. The room is no longer distorted and has returned to its square appearance as it should be. The bear looked around, looking at Snape's messy office, and finally sat down regardless, lowered his head and took Anthony into his arms with his chin. Anthony hugged its huge nose, closed his eyes, put his forehead against it, and finally felt calm.

With a bang, Snape slammed the door and went out. Anthony heard his limping footsteps disappear down the corridor.

Probably to find Madam Pomfrey... He thought, hugging the bear and lying on the floor for a while, until he felt something sticky soaked into his sleeves.

He lifted his sleeve and smelled it.

Oh my god... Anthony groaned, getting up and tidying up the room. It looks like Skeleton Cat and Norbert had a fight here.

Papers flew everywhere. He grabbed the notes on the subject of the Wraith Chicken from the bear's feet, and found the missing pages on the doorframe.

Several student papers floated atop the overturned potions and leach fluids, their ink smudged in a smudged mess. Antony didn't even know what to do with it—cleaning it would, by definition, remove the ink from the parchment, and he didn't dare risk it.

In the end, he just used the levitating spell to spread the papers as flat as possible on the table, hoping that they would dry on their own.

I hope Snape won't make me pay full compensation, he muttered, trying to figure out what that dry black thing was. Several of the crystal bottles were so completely shattered that the repair spell could not save them.

He needed to go to Gringotts and check his savings.

————

*Correction statement: According to the official translation, Cheering Charm is a happy charm rather than a joyful charm, but the previous article is locked and I cannot modify it. If it appears again later, it will be corrected to a happy charm (as long as I can remember it). Elixir to Induce Euphoria is still the elixir of joy.

After adjusting his work and rest, his condition became a bit normal, and he revised his article, which made Anthony's loss of control more obvious.

How should I put it? Anyway, looking at the update time, you should be able to tell that I was quite out of control when I wrote these chapters... I was afraid that my state would affect the protagonist, so I restrained myself a little, but judging from the feedback, it seemed that I had gone too far.

Great, let’s all go crazy together.

————

Maybe because we are all Muggles, we don’t have a real sense of it. For example: I had an argument with a classmate, and the classmate verbally attacked me (but it was a very excessive verbal attack). I lost control and smashed the other person’s mobile phone, computer, iPad, and sports watch, and pushed down all the cabinets and beds. By the way, I was still there. Both of them were injured when they smashed the computer.

Then my sense came back. Shouldn't I worry about compensation? Why shouldn't the cabinet be propped up? Make amends?

From a certain perspective, don’t I feel that I am at fault for all this? I should rush up and beat this thing up. What are you doing by smashing things? Control your emotions better and don't let it get carried away next time you encounter this kind of situation. ← This is probably the logic.

Those who are trying to bring in Anthony can try this idea. Snape was an unpleasant colleague, not an enemy.