The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Not even Lockhart would have taken that as an admirer's speech. He turned around quickly - the arc of the swinging robe was so handsome - and smiled at Snape: Professor Snape, I understand, I understand that some people will also raise similar questions to you. I I’m used to all kinds of misunderstandings.”

I'm sorry, what are you talking about, Professor Lockhart? Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise, I'm pretty sure that's a peacock. A blue peacock, if I'm not mistaken.

Green peacocks, actually. They're even rarer. A gift from a loyal friend, Lockhart said loudly, but still maintaining a very friendly tone. That's why I don't care about the gossip— —because I know I have many, many loyal friends and ardent admirers behind me.”

I think— said Snape.

Lockhart interrupted him without a doubt: But, dear Professor Snape, please don't feel jealous about this! I dare say there are many people who know you! Of course, of course, I can see that What are you thinking about - I admit that being an Order of Merlin, 3rd degree, and an honorary member of the Defense League against the Dark Arts does require ability and luck... and, I would say, a little bit of optimism and a smile that never gives up. He twisted He turned his head and winked at Anthony, showing a shining smile.

Anthony said, Of course, Professor Lockhart - this cake is really nice, don't you think?

He stuffed the Pure Bloodism chocolate into his mouth, chewed it and swallowed it casually, and used a fork to cut a large piece of soft cream. He was pleasantly surprised to find that there were blueberries and blueberries with moderate sweetness and sourness between the cake base. strawberry. At the other end, Snape lowered his head and carefully cut the inferior into evenly sized square pieces with a knife and fork.

Professor Kettleburn shook his head and went to discuss a piece of news with Professor Sprout on crutches (Have you heard about the elder tree that came back to life twenty years after being burned by a fire dragon? Someone sent it to you Sample, Pomona?).

Cake, of course! said Lockhart cheerfully, but - forgive me, Henry - if you've ever eaten the cake at Merlin's investiture ceremony, I'm afraid these are now always, tsk, A little rougher. But I'm not complaining, haha! If you want to be an adventurer, you have to learn to accept a variety of foods.

Uh, oh... Anthony said, I think it's quite good...especially the cake design, the creativity is really good... Before Lockhart commented, he quickly added, This one from Minerva What a brilliant idea!”

Professor McGonagall's name seemed to have some effect. Lockhart stopped commenting on the cake and began to ramble on about his views on the relationship between Muggles and wizards until Professor Bubbaji called Anthony over and asked him if he would mind filling in for two of his classes next week.

Caridi, our classes overlap. Anthony reminded her, What's wrong?

I just received a letter from Ms. Bones. There will be a dark wizard trial next week. Professor Bubbaji said, gesturing to the opened envelope on the table, A dark wizard who murdered five Muggles. The Wizengamot asked me if I wanted to appear - oh, of course I did. But never mind, I'll just go to class first. The good thing about the Special Counsel is that I don't have to be there every time.

Five? Anthony repeated, Why?

It wasn't mentioned in the letter, Professor Bubbaji said, but I would be very, very surprised if her final destination is not Azkaban. Let's not talk about it, Henry. She handed it to him without refusal. A small piece of sandwich, How are your fifth graders, huh? Pre-O.W.Ls?

Anthony sat down next to her: I would say it's okay... However, except for Muggle Studies, I'm a little worried whether the pressure they face will be too much. I still insist on not assigning after-class papers, but last week , there were about two or three students secretly writing papers on other subjects in class.”

Professor McGonagall asked from the side: What subject, Henry? I hope it's not Transfiguration.

One on Transfiguration, one on Herbology, one on Potions, I'd say over twelve inches each, said Anthony. Oh my God, you Heads of Houses!

Professor Flitwick proudly picked up the goblet and raised it towards Anthony.

Anthony smiled and picked up the cup and greeted him: I also saw someone secretly reading Standard Spells under the table, Professor Flitwick.

And no one mentioned Defense Against the Dark Arts? Professor Bubaji came over, covering his face with the cake on the plate, and asked in a low voice.

Anthony also answered her in a low voice: No, but three students' Muggle Studies textbooks have Professor Lockhart's signature. The gold ink is very beautiful and very conspicuous.

Professor Bubaji laughed muffledly.

You can appropriately assign some paper topics for students, Henry. Professor McGonagall suggested, This will be good for them. They can better understand the focus of the lectures, and at the same time have to review their book knowledge.

Of course, if I feel the need, Minerva, Anthony said, But, to be honest, unlike Transfiguration, the O.W.L. in Muggle Studies is really not that difficult.

Professor Boubaji said with a smile: That was before last year, Henry. I just protested with my former colleagues and asked them not to ask those stupid questions again. 'Please point out the difference between a telephone and an elephant' is me Questions submitted while still employed.”

Caredi!

What's up, Henry? That was just a bit of sarcastic humor, not that I really wanted to hear a student tell me that 'telephone' has one more letter than 'elephant.' And I doubt you'd appreciate that 'elephant' is An animal, a phone is not a scoring answer like that.

Anthony sighed: Okay, Caredi, tell me the smartest question you think your former colleagues have come up with.

Well, good question, Henry... Professor Boubaji thought for a moment, How about this? 'List three significant differences between Muggle life in England in the 18th century and life today.'

Anthony complained, If you decided to fail the vast majority of people, I'd be glad to have been notified sooner. You know what students study, Caredi.

Oh, no, I don't know about your students, Professor Bubbaji said, but I agree with you. This question would also fail most of my class.

Professor Flitwick pointed out: Such a question sounds more likely to be left to N.E.W.T, doesn't it? You're setting yourself up for a roadblock, Caredi. You haven't even had the chance to throw seventh grade to Henry yet.

Well, I'll write to them and ask them to mix in a few dumb questions among the smart ones, surrendered Professor Boubaji, something like 'The picture above is a lighter, please spell 'lighter' accurately and neatly. - No squiggles, thank you - and then briefly describe the use of lighters in Muggle life and the impact of its invention on Muggle society'.

Anthony smiled and said: That's perfect. Thank you, Caredi.

It's also for myself. Professor Bubaji said, handing Anthony another plate of cake. Once you take over the seventh grade...

Anthony took the cake and joked: I will send you a hundred roaring letters and let them roar over the Wizengamot Court.

That won't work, Henry, said Professor McGonagall. Carridy has been very good at dealing with howler letters lately.

Professor Flitwick suggested: Ask Professor Lockhart to write your howler letter for you.

Professor McGonagall also suggested: Let Albus write.

Stop, you guys, said Professor Bubbaji. You're making me look forward to the day when their voices really echo over the Wizengamot. It's going to be really funny.

…

Because everyone has to go to class tomorrow, the party lasted until nine o'clock in the evening.

Professor Lockhart tries to convince Professor Kettleburn that there is a butter corn-loving Niffler somewhere in Africa. Even after they had left the lounge, their argument was still loud enough for everyone to hear, even drowning out the sound of Professor Kettleburn's crutches and wooden legs hitting the floor.

Anthony said good night to Professor Bubbaji, Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout (it was said that they were going to have a ladies party), helped Professor Flitwick pack away the flying ribbons, and shared the cake with Filch (Filch Qi stared at a piece of cream on the table for a long time, seeming to hesitate whether to wipe it off with his sleeve), and finally went to close the window of the lounge.

He leaned half of his body out of the window frame and grabbed the partially painted window leaves. The cool evening breeze blew across his forehead, and the air was extremely fresh. He saw the waves of the black lake glowing with silver, and inadvertently raised his head and found that the night sky was already filled with stars.

Behind him, through the door of the lounge, one could hear Filch's proud voice coming vaguely: Mrs. Norris... caught wandering at night, points will be deducted... confinement...

Anthony closed the window. The lounge was brightly lit, soft armchairs were scattered about, and the tables had been cleared.

He walked out and found Filch holding Mrs. Norris and talking to Snape.

Under the light of the flickering torches in the corridor, the expressionless Snape looked even more gloomy than the frothing Filch, and the messy-haired Lady Norris outdid Snape.

See you tomorrow, Mr. Filch, Professor Snape. Anthony nodded towards them, See you tomorrow, Mrs. Norris.

See you tomorrow, Professor Anthony, Snape said cautiously.

Mrs. Norris stared at Anthony with evil eyes, then suddenly flattened her ears and screamed hoarsely. Anthony turned around and saw that his cat was walking slowly along the corridor, its tail raised high, and its ginger fur looked very warm in the firelight.

Three people and a cat watched as it slowly approached.

That's my cat. Anthony introduced, Hey, are you here to see me?

The ginger cat walked gracefully to Anthony's side, squatted down, and jumped up - Anthony stretched out his hand to catch it out of habit - and then the cat purred lowly in his arms towards Mrs. Norris. Anthony started and hugged it tightly.

Filch hurriedly said goodbye to them and left.

Another pet, I suppose? Snape said coolly. The cat turned to look at Anthony in his arms. Snape lowered his head and looked at it, his expression unreadable.

Yes, Anthony said, sighing, Come on, Snape, you've seen it. It's been at Hogwarts since last year.

I'm impressed, Snape said slowly.

Anthony glanced at him and knew he was referring to what happened last semester. In the room filled with the smell of trolls, Snape and Professor McGonagall saw dust and blood everywhere, trolls lying on the ground, and they were exhausted holding the cat and mouse.

Speaking of which, Snape, said Anthony, I must point out that it just proves that I am a good man. My cat scratched Quirrell, and I suppose that proves that he is a good cat too. Me and my Pets are in excellent standing here at Hogwarts.

Snape glanced at the cat with an expression that was almost the opposite of approval. The cat turned to look at him carefully, as if weighing where to add a scar to his hooked nose.

Well, listen, Cat, if you don't like something else... well, anything, usually the right thing to do is to walk away, Anthony said.

He looked up.

Now, Professor Snape, I'm leaving, said Anthony. Have a wonderful evening.

…

Did you really come out to find me? Anthony asked the cat in a low voice, What happened?

The cat twitched its ears and lay peacefully in his arms.

Soon Anthony knew what was happening. The corridors of his office echoed with the sounds coming from Myrtle's girls' bathroom—excited, triumphant adult male voices, punctuated by Myrtle's high-pitched exclamations of admiration. Either Lockhart sent Myrtle a howling letter, or he was telling her a bedtime story...an afterlife story.

Anthony walked into the office, and within five minutes, he was amazed that the sound of Lockhart's speech was more penetrating than Myrtle's usual cries. His mouse had buried itself deep in the cat's nest and was still sending him a steady stream of irritating emotions.

So Anthony opened the door again and stood in the corridor for a moment hesitating, until Myrtle burst into tears. He watched the water slowly fill the bathroom.

After a while, Lockhart walked out quickly, gave him a standard smile, opened the office door, and slammed it shut. Unlike Professor Quirrell's garlic portrait, Lockhart uses an ornate carved wooden door.

Anthony walked to the bathroom door, and Nick, who was almost headless, suddenly floated out of the wall.

Oh, sure enough, I knew this was going to happen, Nick said. I knew it the moment I saw Professor Lockhart.

Know what? Anthony asked confused.

Myrtle is crying again, Nick said. In response, the crying in the bathroom got louder.