The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Until Anthony sat down on the bed, he could still hear intermittent singing.

The Wraith Chicken took the place of the desk lamp and squatted on the bedside table. The cat sat on the pillow with bright eyes, ready to crawl into the quilt at any time. Anthony lifted the quilt and found that the resentful mouse had huddled between the bed and the wall, leaving only a small transparent, furry back.

He rubbed the mouse with his fingers, waited for the cat to find its favorite spot next to his legs and settled down, and then waved his wand to extinguish the lamp lying on the floor. He said good night to the Wraith Chicken, lay down and fell asleep, thinking vaguely about how he would remember to leave the gift in front of Hagrid's door tomorrow.

…

When I woke up in the morning, the room was as cold as a tomb. He had apparently forgotten to light the fireplace again.

Anthony sat up funny, took out the ghost rat that ran in at some point from his slippers, and lit the fireplace.

It was already bright outside the window, and outside the fence of the dormitory area, snow still covered the ground thickly. Many researchers were already busy, and Anthony could hear their footsteps walking around, greeting each other with Merry Christmas, and the sound of dragging something.

He opened the door and to his surprise found a roughly wrapped gift on the ground. He placed the gift he had prepared - a pair of binoculars specially designed for Quidditch spectacle, which could be slowed down and replayed - in front of Hagrid's closed door, and placed a temporary "Internship Researcher's Handbook" underneath. . Then, he sat on the sofa and opened Hagrid's gift.

Hagrid gave him a large bag of fudge, which felt like little fudge sculptures carved from stone (or rather, like rocks). Anthony tried one, thinking it might be some kind of more appropriate Christmas gift for a horned dragon. After all, it is a fire dragon that appreciates rock cakes wholeheartedly.

He put them away and decided to roast them until they were soft like a fire dragon before eating them.

Afterwards, he washed himself quickly and walked out of the house.

Outside the house, several people wearing leather jackets from the protected area were working together to pull two or three burnt trees. White steam rose from above their heads. The four wooden ponies were also reined in, and they struggled to drag them forward, their hooves slipping slightly.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Anthony!" One of the researchers stopped to take a breath and greeted him.

"Merry Christmas," said Anthony, "what happened to these poor logs?" He remembered that this man had been standing behind the cauldron of mulled wine the night before, pouring plate after plate of orange slices into it.

"Nothing special." The other party said, tilting his head and moving his wrists and shoulders. "We accidentally celebrated too late, so Patrick woke up."

Another chimed in: "He wanted to join our alcohol party and wish us a Merry Christmas - good morning Charlie! I love your hat."

Anthony turned his head and saw Charlie walking over with a yawn, his half-length red hair tangled randomly, swaying like exposed withered grass in the corner due to the cold wind.

"What?" Charlie said confused, reaching up to touch his head, "Oh."

He showed a mixture of amusement and annoyance, scratched them casually, and barely suppressed a bunch of raised hair: "Merry Christmas. What did I miss? Who is angry again?"

"Patrick and Delmar," said the man, "Patrick burned three beech trees, two oak trees, and half the guardrail. This is what was left unburned. The protective measures we prepared did their job exactly. , but Delma still got angry."

"Why?" Charlie asked, "Didn't we predict perfectly what Patrick would do? I thought we should get a gifted fortune teller medal."

"Because several people cheered when they saw the smoke. They were drunk and thought it was another bonfire lit in the medical field, and even wanted to rush over with wine."

Charlie's eyes widened: "No, they didn't really do that."

"That's it, really," replied a man standing in front of the tree trunks. "It's a shame. Everybody got laid off. Losing their jobs at Christmas..."

"It's better than actually losing your life in the future because of your own stupidity." The person who spoke at the beginning said nonchalantly, "I think this is also a suitable Christmas gift."

"It makes sense." Charlie thought for a while and reluctantly agreed, but he quickly changed the subject, "Is Hagrid awake, Henry?"

Anthony shook his head: "I don't think so. What's wrong?"

A smile appeared on Charlie's face again: "I plan to go to the post office in a nearby town after breakfast. You know, check for gifts and the like. Want to come together?"

"Of course." Anthony said.

…

Charlie went to the restaurant with a brand new Sanctuary leather bag.

Throughout breakfast Anthony watched him greeting people. Delma and Andrea gave Charlie a set of protective gear and a can of broomstick wax respectively, and Charlie took out two brand-new wand holsters from the bag.

Delma pinched it, then put it under her nose and sniffed it vigorously a few times, and said with certainty: "Dragon skin."

"Of course," said Charlie. "It's absolutely fireproof. I had Patrick check it out. If our good Evander has told us anything, it's that one would never want to light one's wand or wand holster on fire."

"Great." Andrea said with satisfaction. She also pulled out a chair and sat down. She took some bread, picked up a very large piece of jam with a table knife, and spread it on. "When are you going to the post office?"

Charlie asked: "What are you going to do?"

"Get me a letter," Andrea said, briefly putting down her knife, taking off her leather bag from her waist, and slamming it onto the table, "and send these to the address on this parchment. .”

Delma looked up and said, "Me too." He placed the other leather bag in front of Charlie.

"Again?" Charlie said, eating a few more bites of the cold chicken. "Those post office employees don't know how to bite."

Delma stabbed her fork into the sausage impatiently: "Do you want to go or not? I might as well send the gift myself."

"Okay, okay." Charlie said, picking up a glass of strangely colored, viscous drink and drinking it down in one gulp, "I'll leave now. Henry?"

Anthony had finished eating long ago and was leaning back in his chair to listen to their conversation. He also stood up and picked up his robe: "Shall we go?"

Charlie nodded and took Andrea and Delma's bags: "Of course."

He led Anthony to a door next to the dining room. As soon as he opened the door, Anthony felt a gust of hot wind blowing against his face. The firelight flickered in the crack of the door, as if there was a giant dragon living in the room. He peeked behind Charlie and found that it was a small room with only a few metal barrels besides the huge fireplace that occupied the entire wall. The fire burned brightly in the fireplace, filling the simple white walls with swaying light and shadow.

Charlie calmly walked to the fireplace, opened the lid of the bucket, took a look, and grabbed a large handful of Floo powder from inside.

"Have you ever used Floo, Henry?" Charlie asked.

"Used it," Anthony said.

The next second, Charlie threw the floo powder into the fireplace. The green flames jumped up, and he stepped into the flames——

"Wait!" said Anthony. "The address, Charlie. I can't always repeat the address in Romania clearly and accurately."

Charlie smiled at him through the flames, looking very much like his twin brother for a moment.

He said, "Oh, you're going to be fine, Henry."

Anthony asked confused: "What?"

"I have confidence in you." Charlie said with relief, "I remembered it the first day I came here."

Anthony felt no comfort at all.

"But--"

The flames in the fireplace grew greener, almost dark green.

"I really have to go. See you later, Henry."

"Wait, Charlie—"

"Post office," Charlie said loudly and eloquently. He disappeared.

…

Anthony fell out of the fireplace and saw Charlie waiting for him.

"It's like I said," Charlie said. "Look, you did remember it."

"Yeah, thank you," Anthony said, looking around.

This is undoubtedly a magical post office. There were owls flying around above the heads of people wearing various wizard robes. The house was filled with soft coos. There are several wooden doors on the wall where the clock hangs, leading to places where Anthony cannot see. Owls that have finished delivering letters are constantly entering the door, or owls that have rested are coming out with their feathers fluttering.

Four or five employees were standing behind the counter, and the busiest ones were helping the owls untie the letters and packages from their laps, reading out the addresses aloud. The corresponding drawer in the filing cabinet kept popping open, waiting for the letters to be thrown in before snapping shut.

There are also several staff members who are communicating with customers who come to pick up or send letters, switching between Romanian and English repeatedly.

"No, sir, you must show a trade license or proof of donation before you can mail a horn of a long-horned dragon."

"I've confirmed that you don't have a letter from Southampton. I'm sorry, please don't cry, they may not have really forgotten to send you a Christmas present... maybe... uh, I don't know, we never No letters were lost.”

The crying customer raised his head hopefully: "Maybe your owl was eaten by the fire dragon?"

"No, that's impossible." The staff member said decisively.

The customer started crying again and was moved to the end of the line by other impatient customers.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Weasley." said the staff in front of Charlie.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Popescu." Charlie said, appearing to be very familiar with the other party. "Please check the letters sent to Charlie Weasley, Andrea Raddu, Delma Kumar and Henry Anthony... …Well, plus Rubeus Hagrid.”

As he spoke these names, a quill beside him was already writing them down on the parchment.

"No problem," Mr. Popescu said, picking up the parchment and tapping it with his wand. The parchment slowly floated up, flew to the top of the filing cabinet, and suspended there. A few owls resting on the filing cabinets turned their heads and read the names on them carefully.

Mr. Popescu took out two more pieces of parchment and handed them to Charlie: "This is the agency agreement. You know what this is about."

"Yes, yes." Charlie said, quickly glanced at the agreement, grabbed the quill and signed at the bottom.

Anthony looked over and saw that all the names Charlie just mentioned were listed on the agreement. According to the agreement, if Charlie does not deliver an ordinary letter to the real recipient within five days of receiving it, or within one day of receiving an urgent letter, or if he opens the letter privately before delivering it, his name will appear in the International Wizarding World. -On the owl postal system blacklist, all owl post offices will refuse to serve him from now on.

"So if anyone dares to disappear after asking me to collect the letter on my behalf, I will go to fight with that person." Charlie said without raising his head, signing the last word "Weasley" and replacing the "y" He stretched it very long, "Even if the recipient of the letter is eaten by the fire dragon, I will let the fire dragon eat the letter by the way."

Mr. Popescu stated: "If you are unable to contact the recipient for various reasons, you can appeal to the International Wizard-Owl Postal Office. After verification, they will help you lift the blacklist restriction."

Anthony asked curiously: "How do they verify it?"

Mr. Popescu suddenly laughed: "They will find a way to contact the recipient personally. If - and I'm just saying if - they receive a complaint that our dear client, the true recipient of the letter, is sleeping in the body of a fire dragon - -May the magic bless him... or her... No matter what, the people in the main office will do their best to find the fire dragon."

"Really?" Charlie asked.

Mr. Popescu glanced to the side - his colleagues were loading a bunch of Christmas bells into boxes, and the post office was full of jingling sounds - he tried to keep a straight face and lowered his voice: "As long as the complaint letter That's what it was written. I know a client - who happens to be British, too - who told the office very irritably when he filed a complaint that his friend disappeared while resisting the Death Eaters. Just because he wrote "Ask the mysterious person," and the Postal Office is still trying to find the mysterious person and ask him for confirmation."

"I guess they didn't find it," Charlie said.

“Unfortunately, or fortunately, yes,” Mr. Popescu said, “but after confirming that the disappearance was true, the main office temporarily removed the gentleman from the blacklist – temporarily, because they still need Confirm with the mysterious person."

"It's a shame, I think they just missed the opportunity," Anthony said.

If they went to Hogwarts earlier, they might be able to consult Professor Quirrell in time.