The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Chapter 195 Talking to Draco Malfoy

After the professors confiscated the photos, Malfoy seemed to think that the impact of the incident on him had passed. He began to appear at the Slytherin table again, talking arrogantly about the condolences sent to him from home, or loudly talking in the corridor about how miserable the rest of his life would be for the Weasley family.

Anthony ended his discussion with Dumbledore - his topic had changed from studying resurrection to studying immortality - and was going to go to Professor Flitwick to ask about some magic principles. Dumbledore listed the names of several modern masters of magic theory and suggested that Anthony read their works and theories, and Anthony clearly remembered that Professor Flitwick mentioned that he had relevant analytical and annotated books in his office.

What if he really believes it? Hermione leaned her head next to Ron and whispered fiercely, You shouldn't tease him like this, Ron!

Don't be silly, Hermione, said Ron, it was a joke, no one would believe it - oh, good morning, Professor Anthony.

Good morning, Mr. Weasley, said Anthony. Good morning, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger. I think I just heard you talking about a joke?

No, it's nothing.

Anthony glanced at them inquiringly, and no one of the three looked evasive - except Hermione who looked a little annoyed - so he judged that it was indeed not a very important matter, so he just told them to be more careful. Let them go.

…

Professor Flitwick was not in the office, and Anthony then remembered that he had to teach the third grade this morning. He was about to go to the Charms classroom to find Professor Flitwick, but Colin Creevey stopped him in the corridor.

Professor Anthony, he called cheerfully, can you take me to the Slytherin common room? I don't know the password.

What do you want to do in the Slytherin common room? Anthony asked confused.

Oh, I want Draco Malfoy to sign this, Colin said cheerfully, showing him the picture in his hand. Malfoy was half-kneeling on the ground, hunched over and pinching his neck, and a large slug crawled out of his mouth. Anthony saw some robe hems and shoes nearby - he recognized Hagrid's and his own, but they were not in the frame - and a few slugs crawled onto the broom next to them.

Anthony was almost speechless.

Why...how did you get the idea to ask Mr. Malfoy to sign it, Mr. Creevey? he asked. Besides, these pictures are banned now. Please give it to me.

Ah, okay. Fortunately, I still have several pictures. Colin said briskly, tiptoing to send the photos to Anthony. I heard that you are the most talkative professor - please, Professor Anthony.”

No, and I strongly suggest that you don't think about it anymore. Anthony firmly refused, Go to class now, Mr. Creevey. I believe the first-grade herbal medicine class will start soon.

…

Professor Flitwick happily received Anthony and thrust all relevant theoretical books into Anthony's hands. Anthony was holding the book, planning his reading progress for the past week, when he suddenly heard some commotion in the corridor in front of him.

He heard Colin say: Ron said if you can sign it, he can get me a signed photo of Harry.

Ha, Potter's autographed photo! A cold voice sounded like Malfoy, Of course, Weasley needs to make a living by selling autographed photos.

Slytherin laughed loudly, and Colin sounded a little angry: Ron is Harry's friend!

His father will be fired soon, Malfoy drawled. If the saint Potter doesn't help him, he and his red-haired skunk brothers and sisters will have to go to the garbage dump to find something to eat. ”

Anthony squeezed past the students with a large stack of books. When the Hufflepuffs looked up and saw it was him, they all showed excited expressions and whispered.

You shouldn't say that to others! Colin said in disbelief.

I can say whatever I want, Malfoy said contemptuously. As for you, if you dare to put your dirty hands under my nose again, little mud——

Mr. Malfoy! said Anthony, striding over.

Malfoy looked up, his vicious expression fading for a moment. He wasn't stupid enough to insult Colin in the presence of the professor. The next second, he covered his neck: Professor Anthony, I'm sorry, I suddenly feel very painful...

Mr. Malfoy, I want to talk to you. Anthony said solemnly, looking around at the Slytherin next to him. Pansy Parkinson stood behind Malfoy with her chin raised.

Anthony's eyes stayed on her side for a few seconds. A trace of uneasiness flashed across Pansy's face, and she couldn't help but hide to the side, but she quickly straightened up and stared at Anthony.

Anthony looked away.

Follow me, Mr. Malfoy, he said. If you're in really bad pain, we can go to the hospital and have a chat. Or would you rather chat in confinement?

Yes, Professor, Malfoy said reluctantly, following him.

…

Please take a seat, Mr. Malfoy, Anthony said. Would you like anything to drink?

Malfoy sat stiffly across from Anthony, his jaw clenched. He said, unusually politely, No, thank you, Professor Anthony.

Anthony smiled and said: Relax, I didn't deduct points from you today, right?

What do you want to talk to me about? Malfoy asked warily, Okay, I can forgive Weasley and the others, but I will never sign those photos! A look of embarrassment flashed across his pale face. , and then as if he had caught something, he said loudly, Speaking of photos, shouldn't you have confiscated them all -

I apologize, Mr. Malfoy, Anthony said placatingly. We only confiscated the photos that were circulated among students, but Mr. Creevey seems to have...well, a stockpile. I understand that you don't want others to see them, So I imagine someone will talk to Mr Creevey soon too.

Malfoy looked at him cautiously for a while, as if to make sure he wasn't laughing at him, and then suddenly said: You gave Pansy solitary confinement.

That's true, said Anthony. I hope she doesn't stab my voodoo doll when she gets back to the Slytherin common room, because I've been having some pain in my shoulder lately.

Malfoy didn't let him change the subject: Are you going to use this method to deal with me? Put me in solitary confinement, and then use Dumbledore's method to brainwash me?

What's that about Dumbledore? Anthony asked curiously.

Malfoy frowned in disgust: It's just that wizards shouldn't be separated by blood... Of course, you must believe it. You are a professor of Muggle Studies. He almost concealed the tone in his voice when he said the last sentence. The irony is gone.

Would it be easier for you to understand if I told you that this is the only thing I've heard since entering the wizarding world? said Anthony. Tell me about the other thing, Mr. Malfoy, and give me some inspiration. Tell me why pureblood wizards are superior to others.

You are not a pureblood. Malfoy said, Okay... our pureblood family has maintained the stability of the wizarding world for generations, always keeping in mind the dignity of wizards.

What does that mean? Anthony asked gently.

Malfoy looked at him appraisingly for a moment. Anthony waited quietly.

Oh... I see, Malfoy said. That's how Pansy got fooled. You pretended you were on the same side as us and then subtly tricked her. It didn't work on me.

He raised his chin high and looked at Anthony with a stern look.

No, I know this won't work for you, Anthony affirmed.

Unlike Pansy, Draco Malfoy was never harmed by his belief in the pure-blood theory. Pansy might still be thinking about her dead Charles, being disappointed in herself because of her fear of heights, worrying about bringing shame on the family... but not Malfoy.

But Anthony only had to look at Malfoy's cold gray eyes to know that he was the kind of child who was spoiled by his family, not to mention the candy parcels given to him by owls every day and Slytherin's new broomstick... He Never for a moment was he bound by the theory of pure blood. He worshiped his father wholeheartedly, believed that he was born with superior blood, and enjoyed the pleasure of being superior to others.

Would you like tea, Mr. Malfoy? Anthony said, Yes, you are right, I do believe in 'Dumbledore's stuff', but this does not prevent me from listening to your thoughts. Just be This is my intellectual curiosity. There must be some reason for you to believe in the pure-blood theory, right?

Malfoy's expression seemed to indicate that he thought there was something unusual about Anthony.

He glanced at the closed window and the door behind him, thinking he was concealed, then he remembered something, raised his eyebrows, and suddenly compromised: Okay. As a member of the Malfoy family, I know my ancestors very well. They have made many contributions and sacrifices to the wizarding world. During the witch-hunting era, they went to great lengths or took risks for their own lives, and never had to settle for marrying Muggles... And now, Dumbledore has come forward to promote it. His crazy talk wants us to happily accept Muggle blood.

Malfoy glanced at Anthony, as if judging whether he was about to jump up and take a point. Anthony smiled and pushed the tea cup in his direction, indicating with his eyes that he was listening.

Muggles! Ha, I know you probably like them, Professor Anthony. Malfoy said confidently, But since you asked me what I think, you have to admit that those stupid guys... they will never None of them can understand the true power and true mystery of the world. They are people rejected by magic, inferior people eliminated by magic.

No, Mr. Malfoy, don't evade the question. Anthony said, I'm not surprised that you hate or despise Muggles - as far as I know, many wizards are like this - what I'm curious about is why you You will look down upon wizards from Muggle families. According to you, they have clearly been chosen by magic.

Malfoy said loudly: Don't you understand? Because magic should not choose them! If we allow those inferior bloods to pollute magic...one day... He was a little stuck, as if he didn't know what to describe to Anthony. Such consequences, One day, magic will no longer be pure!

Anthony had to remind himself not to laugh. The second-year Slytherin in front of him has been aroused to be competitive, trying to convince Anthony that pure blood is more advantageous with a theory that he has not yet understood.

Malfoy looked at Anthony fiercely, trying to convince him with his aura. But when you're an adult - especially when you know you're a student across from you - it's hard to be attracted to a stern-faced twelve-year-old boy sitting in an armchair only as high as your waist. Scared.

What kind of magic is pure magic? Anthony asked as seriously as he could.

To his surprise, although Malfoy's eyes remained cold and pointed, he actually smiled triumphantly, as if he had already prepared an answer to the question.

It's not these things learned in school. Malfoy said disdainfully, Pure magic, more powerful magic... you know it.

I?

Malfoy nodded and said in a condescending, almost threatening tone: Don't think that I don't know your secret, Professor Anthony. You betrayed us. You were once a member of the pursuit of more powerful magic... Dad told me Yes, they threw you into Azkaban, and it was Dumbledore who guaranteed you out.

Anthony looked at Malfoy, wondering why he would bring up this topic with him so brazenly. If Malfoy believed that Anthony was an out-and-out Dark wizard, he should fear for his life; if he didn't, he shouldn't have suggested that Anthony—who was still his professor—had a soft spot for the Dark Arts.

But then he understood. Malfoy never thought that his life would be in danger. He believed that no matter what he did or said, his family, the Malfoy family of pure-blood wizards, would protect him. It's like it's some kind of invincible talisman.

What did your father say? Anthony asked, neither confirming nor denying.

At this time, a sob suddenly came from the corner of the office. Anthony turned his head and looked over in surprise, only to find that there was a strange house elf in rags over there, and Anthony didn't even know when he came in. The elf's big, bulging eyes were filled with tears, and he was silently tugging at his big ears.

Shut up, Dobby! Malfoy said impatiently, A qualified servant should not let me discover your existence. The house elf nodded with tears in his eyes, then shook his head and beat his head without making a sound. .

Back to our topic... Malfoy noticed that Anthony was still looking at the elf in the dark corner, Oh, this is my house elf. After I was injured, my father was worried about me, so he let our house elf The elves take turns protecting me.”

Mr. Malfoy...what is your elf's name?

Finally... I am traveling with my friends, and it should be late tomorrow too orz

I will probably be able to resume my normal schedule of early morning updates the day after tomorrow.