The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Anthony stood there for a while, then walked back carrying the feces.

He thought about Tracy's last words.

Snape is also half-blood? He never seemed to think about it. If someone had brought up this topic before, he would probably have guessed that Snape was a pure-blood wizard - he was the head of Slytherin, which would be enough to explain a lot from a stereotype perspective. Not to mention that he protected those pure-blood students who bullied others and did not comment on the difficulties Tracy faced because of being mixed-race...

Mrs. Norris heard his footsteps and appeared silently in the corner, staring at the dung egg in his hand.

Shh, go, I'm not a student who swims at night.

Anthony watched as the scrawny cat ran away, casting a long, twisted shadow on the floor.

He continued his interrupted thoughts. If Snape is a half-blood, why is Slytherin the way he is today? Malfoy undoubtedly respected Snape - Harry, Ron and Hermione all mentioned this - but how could he respect Snape while unscrupulously belittling Muggle blood?

Anthony allowed himself to roam the school, even going to the staff room to make himself a pot of tea. Anyway, his class is in the afternoon.

Professor Anthony?

Anthony looked behind him.

Filch, holding Mrs. Norris in his arms and wearing an old faded dressing gown, poked his head out of the half-opened lounge door. His eyes scanned the room warily, as if checking for nocturnal students hiding under every worn chair and table.

Mr. Filch. Anthony nodded towards him, Tea?

No, thank you, Professor. Filch said slightly disappointed. At this moment, Mrs. Norris broke away from his arms, ran to Anthony's feet, and howled sharply at the bag of dung eggs.

Filch narrowed his eyes and asked, What is that, Professor Anthony?

Shit eggs, Anthony said. There's no need to lie about something like this.

Aha! Filch exclaimed in triumph, Which student is it? Weasley? Where did you throw it? His bulging light eyes stared greedily and maliciously at the bag with the Joke Shop logo on it. , walked into the lounge.

I over-deducted it, Anthony said, Well... Mr. Filch, don't you really want a cup of tea?

He didn't know how Filch could start patrolling the castle every morning and still be full of energy at three or four o'clock in the evening, searching for students who went out at night - Anthony was quite sure that Filch was not dead yet, which only made him more curious. .

Filch hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over to sit next to Anthony.

Okay, thank you, Professor Anthony. No milk, just tea, Filch said. Mrs. Norris jumped into his lap, and Filch lovingly ran his fingers slowly through its tangled dark gray hair.

Anthony poured him a cup of tea and pushed it in front of him. Filch muttered a thank you, picked up the tea cup, brought it to his pursed lips, took a sip, frowned at the temperature of the scalding tea, and put the cup back on the table with a clang.

Which student is that? He stared at the bag at Anthony's feet and asked stubbornly. Mrs. Norris also raised her head and looked at Anthony with her bulb-like eyes.

Anthony repeated: I've already deducted points.

Filch gasped unwillingly and sniffed, as if he could smell the stench of feces and eggs inside through the magic-sealed bag.

The principal should ban students from bringing this kind of stuff into school! Filch said viciously, grabbing the cup and taking another sip, almost spilling the tea on his hand.

Anthony sat up straight in surprise: Can students bring dung bombs into school?

He clearly remembered that Fred and George had mentioned that they had put a dung bomb in the corridor in their first year, and had been scolded by Filch (You may have heard this, Professor, that's Filch). The words on their lips were: confinement, hanging and whipping, disembowelment, bone removal and skin removal-), and from then on, they disliked each other, and their hatred became deeper and deeper.

Dumbledore was too lenient with those little brats, Filch said grimly. He thought there would be some benefit in making them lawless... well, benefit... as if anyone would actually order dung bombs just to be in the There’s the same thing in the bedroom!”

Anthony tried to understand the rule: Students can bring them into school, but they can't use them?

That's right - but, I'm telling you, Professor Anthony, these students need a lesson. They're just going to stink up the corridors... I have a list of all prohibited items in the castle in my office, if you need it , you can come and take a look at any time. Then, Professor, you will understand what kind of trouble these despicable guys can cause if they are not strictly disciplined...

Listening to his ramblings about dung bombs and stink bombs, Anthony was inopportunely reminded of Professor Quirrell's turban and the smell of garlic. He couldn't help laughing: Mr. Filch, I think Professor Flitwick spent some time last school year researching a household spell to freshen the air. It might sound useful.

Filch turned sharply, his droopy cheeks twitching, looking extremely annoyed.

Anthony stopped laughing in surprise.

I - of course, that sounds very useful, said Filch, his voice hoarse as he breathed hard, I'll mention it to Professor Flitwick... anyway... well, just That’s it…”

He hugged Mrs. Norris and left, leaving the teacup on the table, still steaming. Anthony sat in his chair, confused. Everything about tonight is so weird.

…

Apart from a tree hole deep in the forest where a family of squirrels might live, if Anthony could find a place in Hogwarts where he could easily express his doubts (and hope to get answers), it would probably be Professor Sprout's office. .

This room is not big, with the four walls paneled with wood like a staff lounge, and the only two chairs that are soft and warm. The brief sunlight at four o'clock in the afternoon shone on Professor Sprout's desk, illuminating the crispy crumbs of the butter cookies on the plate with a warm golden color.

There are shelves at various heights along the wall, with magical plants of various colors growing freely on them. While Anthony was narrating, a group of toadstools jumped past his feet and hid in the shade where the sun could not reach them.

Oh my god, I forgot, no one told you, said Professor Sprout, looking at him sadly, Mr. Henry Filch, unfortunately, is a squib.

Is he a Squib? Anthony asked in surprise, I remember that Squibs are not only rare, but most of them have been integrated into Muggle society...

Professor Sprout nodded: Oh, yes, most of them. Argus Filch is obviously an exception. She pointed out gently, Henry, haven't you noticed that he never took out Your own wand?

Many staff don't usually take out their wands. Anthony defended himself, For example, Hagrid, Mrs. Pince, Mrs. Pomfrey, Mrs. Hooch... I even sometimes forget to bring my wand. I Didn't think of it - was he a student at Hogwarts in the past?

No, he is not. Professor Sprout said, Hogwarts is a school of magic... We do not accept students who do not have magical talents, regardless of whether he or she knows that the magical world exists. This is to allow We feel more comfortable with each other, after all I don't think any student wants to study a subject they are destined to fail to learn. You know, Squibs can't even have wands that respond to them.

Muggle...

Professor Sprout knew immediately what he wanted to say. She shook her head and said softly: Not everyone is willing to abandon the magical world, even if magic has abandoned them.

No matter how much Anthony disagreed with Filch's attitude towards students, at least at this moment, he did feel sorry for Filch.

He remembered Neville telling him that his family once thought he was a squib, so they tried to corner him countless times in the hope that he would show his magical talent.

In the books he had read, some authors compared Squibs to Muggle-born wizards, thinking that they were wizard-born Muggles. But Anthony knew in his heart that this was actually different, and he knew who The author probably understands.

Do the students know? Anthony asked. Do they know about Filch?

Professor Sprout shook his head: No, I think they don't know, because they haven't thought about this possibility. Some students may not even know what the word squib means.

As for Snape's mixed-race identity, Professor Sprout just said naturally: Yes, I remember Severus is indeed. Then she kept inviting Anthony to eat some cookies. So Anthony didn't ask any more questions, and just chatted with her about Professor Bubaji's special advisor position and Dumbledore's Tuna Club.

…

After finishing the Wraith Chicken experiment on Saturday, Dumbledore brought up Snape's unicorn blood experiment again, and then Anthony suddenly thought of his own problem.

Professor Dumbledore, he said, watching Dumbledore sorting out the experimental data, I have a question that may be a little offensive.

Just ask, Henry, Dumbledore said gently. To put it bluntly, I think I might be so good at dealing with problems that I sometimes can't tell whether they are offensive or not.

Anthony reached out and stroked the feathers of the Wraith Chicken and said, Well, I heard that Snape—Professor Snape—is a half-blood wizard.

Whether or not Dumbledore expected Anthony to start with this sentence, he acted very calmly. Anthony added: I also heard that Mr. Filch is a squib.

Henry, you just said two statements. Dumbledore said. If your question is their truth, then my answer is, yes, they are both true.

Anthony hesitated, unsure how to express his doubts. Dumbledore looked at him with a patient smile, so Anthony let the first words that came to his mind roll to his tongue.

Sir, how does pure bloodism differentiate between pure blood and non-purity? Mr. Filch - let's put it this way, suppose there is a pure bloodist standing here now (the wraith chicken gesticulated from him His position flew away), and he doesn’t care about anything except blood. In this person’s eyes, which one is worse, a squib from a so-called pure-blood family or a half-blood wizard?”

Interesting question. Dumbledore mused. I guess it depends on which family you get this respected pure-blood from, but based on my experience, a reasonable guess would be that half-blood wizards are better than pure-bloods. Squib.”

Where are the Muggle-born wizards and pure-blood squibs? Anthony asked.

Dumbledore smiled: A pure-blood Squib is better than a Muggle-born wizard. Very good, Henry.

Yes, sir, you see, that makes no sense at all, said Anthony, and I'm sure you and the others must have thought of it.

He took a piece of paper and drew as he spoke: What if purebloods - such as Voldemort and his Death Eaters - claim that Muggle blood somehow 'taints' magic, or that Muggle-born Wizards are just 'stealing' magic through some unknown means... No matter what, they can't justify themselves on the Squib issue.

He hastily drew a form and handed it to Dumbledore.

Either by blood, pure-blood squibs are considered superior to half-blood wizards, or by magic, wizards are superior to squibs, that is, Muggles, in any case. Logical question.

Dumbledore lowered his head and read the words he had written hastily for a while through his half-moon glasses.

Anthony concluded: In conclusion, they themselves don't believe this, or pure-blood magic is not bound by Muggle logic. I will definitely tell Professor Quirrell this next time I see him. I really hope Voldemort will too. I can figure it out.”

Dumbledore smiled: Henry, I think there is something you should know.

What, sir?

Voldemort himself is a half-blood wizard.

What? said Anthony, Sir, wait, let me guess. Mr. Malfoy is also a half-blood, Miss Parkinson is also a half-blood, Coco and Dobby are also half-blood. Oh, and Aragog is also a half-blood.

Dumbledore chuckled: I can't argue with your statement about Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson, Henry. As of today, every wizard has more or less Muggle ancestors. But, no, I mean One of Voldemort's parents was a Muggle.

But he's preaching pure blood? Anthony said. Oh my god, what's he thinking?

People's thoughts are sometimes very wonderful, aren't they? Dumbledore said quietly, According to what I know about him, his greatest ambition is eternal life, invincible eternal life -

Anthony couldn't help but said: According to my understanding of eternal life, the most important thing for a person who wants to live is not to let most people expect him to die.