The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

When Dumbledore left, the Coke was not finished yet. Anthony apparated back to Diagon Alley and exchanged the remaining drinks from Tom for the use of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, returning to the Burrow via the Floo Network.

There was no one in the kitchen, and the radio next to the sink was busy announcing tomorrow's weather. There is a fire in the oven and the smell of cinnamon, butter and apples fills the kitchen. Anthony knew there would be apple pie again tonight.

He went out to the backyard and found that the waxed broomsticks had been taken away, and Harry was presumably off playing Quidditch with Ron, Fred, and George. Percy's owl, Hermes, glided over from afar and flew into the open window, seemingly holding a very thick letter in his beak.

It seems to have just rained here. The ground was wet, and the air with moisture was cool and comfortable. The chickens were huddled in the chicken coop, water dripping down the straw. The path next to the pond was extremely muddy, and there was a constant sound of frogs croaking.

The ginger cat emerged from the bushes, shook itself, raised its tail and rubbed against Anthony. Anthony bent down and touched it, and the cold fur slid across his palm like water.

Ah, there you are, Henry! said Mr. Weasley. Anthony straightened up and saw him looking at him from the living room window, his left hand holding the feather duster on the armrest of the sofa, and the top of his forehead was covered with shiny beads of sweat.

Good afternoon, Arthur, Anthony said, What are you doing?

Errol passed out, Mr. Weasley said, pointing to something on the armrest. Only then did Anthony see that it was not Mrs. Weasley's old feather duster that had been idle, but an owl with wet feathers.

Anthony walked closer to the window and asked through the debris piled on the window sill: What's going on?

I don't know, but Errol is always like this. I was looking for a pick-me-up for him. Mr. Weasley said, looking at the owl with some pity, It's old, it's rained, it's bumped into Window. I hope Elon can resolve the conflicts between him and Scabbers soon... maybe Fred and George will allow me to borrow their owl.

Then he squatted in front of the wooden cabinet in the corner of the living room, and murmured to himself, taking out the medicine for removing vixens, essential oils for treating baldness, old owl food and mouse pet food, and the food from when he and Mrs. Weasley were married. Photos, faded scarves and a few feathers.

Anthony rummaged with him in the living room for a while, until Mrs. Weasley appeared in the kitchen with a large bag of potatoes, tomatoes, carrots and zucchini, and finally found the bottle of refreshment under several coupon magazines, which contained only A pitiful little bit of liquid was left.

Mr. Weasley opened Errol's mouth and put a few drops in.

Steam puffed up intermittently around Errol's head. It opened its eyes sickly, looked at Mr. Weasley feebly, and closed its eyes again.

I should buy some more pick-me-ups. Mrs. Weasley said worriedly. I hope these are enough. She grabbed a scarf from the side and used it as a blanket to cover Errol.

…

But Errol didn't get better. By Monday, he didn't even have the energy to drink water.

But Tuesday is September 1st, and everyone is busy packing their bags.

Ron and Harry were looking for their Herbology papers. Percy discovered that his brass cauldron was missing. Fred hopes to add a cover to Elon's trough and sink. George tries to sneak Percy's History of Magic paper away. Ginny wondered how she was supposed to pack so many books into her suitcase, and noticed that some of her scarves were untied.

Mrs. Weasley ran around, summoning socks for the children from all corners of the room, while looking at the knives being cut in the kitchen and the spoons slowly stirring in the pot.

Mr. Weasley has to go to work at the Ministry of Magic early in the morning. The Ministry of Magic is also conducting raids on people who may have illegal Dark Arts items hidden in their homes. In addition, shoes that get smaller and smaller have recently been put into shoe stores and sold to Muggles, and the number of Muggle victims is still growing. Everyone in the No Misuse of Muggle Articles office was trying to find this guy.

Anthony has nothing to pack. Mrs. Weasley resolutely declined his offer to help in the kitchen, going so far as to push him down on the sofa and thrust a copy of the Daily Prophet into his hands.

…

The Ministry of Magic announced that it would ensure the health and safety of the wizarding community from all aspects. Therefore, in addition to caring about the medical insurance system and Hogwarts education, they also called on everyone in the newspaper to pay attention to the recently introduced Muggle Protection Act and understand Relevant laws and regulations, do not inadvertently violate the law.

On another page, the Ministry of Magic claimed that its severe crackdown on dark wizards was effective, followed by a series of efforts made by the Ministry of Magic to ensure a stable life for the people, as well as their future planning goals.

Anthony looked carefully and saw that they still had not issued a wanted warrant for Quirinas Chilo. But the good news is that they didn't mention anything related to the Necromancer.

I'll take Errol to the Owl Shop, he offered, putting down the newspaper.

Mr. Weasley originally decided that after sending the children to King's Cross Station tomorrow, he would use his time off to go to Diagon Alley and let knowledgeable people see what was going on.

Oh, won't this be too much trouble for you? Mrs. Weasley asked in surprise.

Anthony laughed and said, Not at all, as long as you allow me to use your fireplace.

…

When he pushed Errol out of the owl store, the clerk was selling a slightly bald owl to a hesitant little boy.

She glanced at Anthony casually, nodded politely to him, smiled and continued to point to the owl and the boy and said a few words. She raised her head, glanced at Anthony again, and then focused on the scarf-wrapped figure in his hand. on top of the dusty stuff.

The clerk blurted out: Is that an owl?

Well, I guess so, Anthony said uncertainly, glancing down, You're the expert.

Please wait a moment, sir. The clerk said, smiled at the boy again, turned to the back of the store and shouted, Old Owl, I think you need to come out and take a look!

As she shouted, all the healthy and smart owls in the store flew up and landed on the horizontal bars hanging from the ceiling or on the high counters.

A man with shaggy brown hair appeared silently. He wore a pair of big round glasses, and his yellow eyes were fixed on the owl in Anthony's hand from the moment he came out.

He opened his arms and walked to Anthony's side, making no sound all the way, almost as if he was gliding over. The brown wizard robe was floating behind him, and the owls in the shop were watching him silently, their heads turning according to his position.

The boy looked completely fascinated by him, with his mouth half-open and his little head spinning following his path.

Oh, poor, poor. The man known as Old Owl said softly, looking down at Errol, his pointed nose touching the scarf.

Errol weakly opened his eyes and opened his beak, as if he wanted to make a chirp.

I know, poor thing. The man said, observing Errol carefully from behind the lenses, Don't worry, you are in the hands of the old owl.

He straightened up, looked at Anthony, and asked sternly: How long has he been like this?

Hmm...three days, Anthony said. It rained on Saturday, and it hit the window glass after it got wet. We gave it some refreshment—

The man smacked his lips in disapproval.

-and wrapped him in a scarf to keep him warm. He was a little more energetic on Sunday, I think he ate some meatballs-

The man looked at him accusingly. If looks could convict people, Anthony thought he might end up in Azkaban again.

The next thing is today, we found in the morning that he suddenly became very weak. Anthony concluded, We felt that something must be wrong, so we decided to bring it here to seek professional help.

The man stared at him for a while, then repeated in a low voice: 'There must be something wrong'... Poor, poor. He slid silently to the huge wooden cabinet in the corner, waved his sleeves, and the cabinet door opened with a bang. .

There are glass bottles of various sizes neatly arranged in the cabinet. Some contain feathers, some contain straw-like things, and some contain liquids of various colors. The liquid level sways gently as the cabinet door opens. With.

The man stretched out his slender hand from his robe, lowered his head and tapped on the rows of glass bottles, making a crisp sound when his sharp nails collided with the bottles.

No, no, no...ah, by the way, this is it. He said, grabbing the bottle suddenly. He turned around, and two owls flew to Anthony's side, lifting Errol up and placing him in the man's outstretched hand.

Open your mouth, yes, good. Drink it.

Errol obediently let him pour half a bottle of the strange purple liquid into his mouth, and then the man grabbed something from the drawer next to him - the little boy's mouth closed suddenly, looking a little nauseous. In the man's hand were several pink mice with eyes that had not yet opened.

Eat, he said to Errol, stuffing the mouse down the dazed owl's throat and pouring the remaining half of the potion into it.

With a weird sizzling sound, a large plume of black smoke suddenly came out of Errol's half-open mouth, which smelled extremely unpleasant. When the black smoke cleared, Errol was flapping his wings and had the strength to stand on the man's hand.

Anthony was relieved at this moment.

Thank you so much, he said. How much should I pay you to express my gratitude?

The man ignored his question and just stared at Errol. Errol stood up, spun around a few times, and then lay back unsteadily.

Are you his master? the man suddenly asked Anthony.

No, I am a friend of its owner. Anthony said.

The man caught Errol in his hand and tossed it to Anthony like a Quaffle.

Tell his owner not to feed him meatballs, the man said. That will only worsen his myopia. Feed him some rats.

Uh... okay, Anthony said, wondering how Ron would react to the news.

The clerk had successfully sold the owl to the dumbfounded little boy. At this time, he walked up to Anthony and reminded him to check out with a smile.

Eights for seven knuts, she said, watching Anthony count out the coins.

Old Owl pulled out a deck chair from the window of the shop and lay down on it. Several owls flew down from the crossbar again, trying to land next to him. The man took off the magazine covering his face, glared at the owls, and they all flew away.

Just when Anthony was about to leave, the door of the shop was suddenly pushed open again.

What came in was a middle-aged man who looked very tired. He sighed, wore an unreasonably large robe, shuffled into the store, and handed a bag of things he bought from someone who didn't know where. The clerk took the account book and shopping list and started sketching.

The man called Old Owl suddenly jumped up on the couch and said angrily: You are fired, Lawton, you have been fired!

I'll be fired next month. Lawton said, looking sad and weak, but it's the 31st now, so theoretically I still need to go to work.

You're fired! I said we don't accept employees disappearing during the busiest times! the old owl yelled, waving his arms, looking like an angry owl with wide wings and beating its beak.

I'm sorry, but this month's salary...our contract... Lawton said, taking out a broom from the side and starting to sweep the feathers on the ground together.

The owls landed on his arms, shoulders, and head with impunity. Lawton just sighed tiredly, as if he was dwarfed by the owls.

The clerk said: Old Owl, Roland did only take three days off. He doesn't need to come to work on weekends. This was agreed from the beginning.

Three days, the busiest three days! said the old owl, I had to get up during the day! He was fired!

Okay, Roland, he's the boss. The clerk said helplessly, I mean, you usually do a pretty good job, and you're a very nice person... But the old owl here has the final say. I hope he can do it again in the future. I can see you.

Oh, you can't tell. Lawton sighed.

Anthony had been looking at Lawton since he entered the store, and he felt like he had seen him before. He glanced at the suitcase placed next to the door, and suddenly remembered why he felt that the other person looked familiar.

He's the man who sits in the ice cream parlor and sighs. At that time, Anthony was chatting with the Joneses and Mr. Weasley. This man was always sitting on the side, sighing, so Anthony couldn't help but look at him a few more times.

Lawton swept to his feet. Anthony finally said goodbye to the three people in the store, opened the door and left. Through the glass case, he could see Lawton sweeping away Errol's fallen feathers.

Errol was standing on Anthony's shoulder, stretching one wing and arranging his sparse feathers with his head down, looking healthier than ever.