The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Barnabas on the tapestry craned his neck to look at the disappearing door curiously. His not-so-study student raised a wooden stick and tried to knock out his ballet teacher.

Barnabas immediately turned his head and scolded them for being able to hide the sticks in their tutus.

By the time the troll finally put the stick at his feet amid his scolding and pleading, night had already enveloped Hogwarts.

If Barnabas could distract himself from the troll dragging the hem of his dance skirt gracelessly, he would see the door on the opposite side suddenly appear again, and a man quietly walk out from it.

And if Barnabas had seen it, he would have found it difficult to describe the man. He doesn't notice the short hair, the gentle face, or the strong hands. If I had to say it, Barnabas would describe him in terms of the night outside the window, because that's pretty much how he felt.

A night where some people sleep and others steal.

…

Anthony mused. There were some very interesting things in undead magic. He didn't understand the principles yet, but they almost couldn't wait to respond to his call. He originally just wanted to know more about what happened to him, but he found more mysteries.

He couldn't figure it out, because according to the Necromantic Notes, he should have gone crazy.

But his ability to stay sane probably has something to do with his practice venue. Well... at least he thought he was sane. To test this, he even did a whole set of mathematical analysis questions in the Room of Requirement.

He understood why the Room of Requirement responded to him the way it did, why it was a safe place, a place suitable for practicing magic - because it was the opposite of his nightmare.

Contrary to the flowing black in the dream, everything on the solid white floor was still. On the smooth wall, he could always confirm the reflection of his human form.

Funny enough, the Room of Requirement seemed confused by him and gave him a ridiculously large room.

As Anthony pondered the significance of the size of the room, Castle also realized something was wrong. The room began to shrink like a balloon that had been poked by a pin, until it reached what he thought was about the same size.

But the Room of Requirement still seems convinced that he's terrifyingly large. When he asked for a target, a sandbag high to the ceiling appeared in the room.

The bear, who could hardly be called a patron saint, was having fun playing with the sandbags.

…

When Anthony returned to the office, he found that the cat had not left the house all day and was still sleeping on the pillow. He reached out and touched it out of habit, then frowned and touched it again.

The cat woke up in a daze, held his hand and bit it mercilessly.

Hiss. Anthony pushed its head, Don't bite. Are you getting hot?

As if he finally realized what was in his mouth, the cat let go of his teeth, stood up and shook himself, condescendingly brushed past his legs, then jumped onto his chair and lay down.

Anthony checked his body temperature, then put his hand under the cat's belly to feel it: It's not an illusion, your body temperature has increased.

The cat flicked its tail perfunctorily.

Anthony squatted down and rubbed its head: Did you hear that? You are becoming more and more like a living cat. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

The cat looked at him lazily and meowed.

Anthony sighed.

In a living cat, a drop in body temperature might be a cause for alarm, so in a dead cat, could a gradual increase in warmth mean that the cat is sick?

This worried him a little. More worryingly, he speculated that this was not a problem that a veterinarian could solve, and that novice necromancers didn't know what to do with their skeleton pets.

Is it related to my practice this afternoon? Anthony asked in a low voice.

His mumbling finally bored the cat. It put its head on the man's hand and rubbed it comfortingly.

Anthony scratched the base of its ears. If it really had something to do with practice, he would never overuse necromancy again... He didn't want to lose the cat.

…

Because of the skeleton cat incident, Anthony went to the principal's office early the next morning. Since Dumbledore told him to go to him when he encountered problems, the first thing he thought of when encountering a difficult magical problem was to discuss it with Dumbledore.

But Dumbledore was not in the headmaster's office. Anthony gave the password and only met Professor McGonagall with a straight face on the spiral staircase.

What's the matter, Minerva? asked Anthony.

Professor McGonagall was holding a large pile of documents and her expression was not very good: Albus is not in school.

Anthony asked in surprise: Where did he go again? As far as he knew, Dumbledore was not in school much last semester.

It is said to be a meeting. Professor McGonagall said. I must say that he has had more meetings this school year than expected. What about you, Henry, why did you come to see Albus?

Even though Professor McGonagall knew his identity, Anthony found it difficult to discuss his skeleton cat and wraith chicken with her. So far, Dumbledore was the only person willing to talk to him about this topic.

So he said: A little research topic.

Professor McGonagall nodded: Okay, I understand. She looked down at the documents in her hand and sighed, Want to go to the lounge, Henry? Since our principal is a busy man?

Anthony was a little surprised: Of course.

…

When they walked into the staff lounge together, Professor Flitwick shouted: Look who's here! Two busy professors!

Professor McGonagall poured herself a cup of tea: Don't say you're not busy, Filius. At least don't say that in front of the busy vice-principal.

I won't say that I'm not busy. You know, Minerva, I've been busy lately... Professor Flitwick said, glancing at Anthony, Preparing some things.

Anthony asked funnyly: Does it have anything to do with me, Professor Flitwick?

Oh! cried Professor Flitwick, don't spoil the fun! Professor Anthony, don't spoil the fun!

Anthony added a sugar cube to his tea: I guess I'm the only one who didn't know.

Professor McGonagall hid her face behind her teacup, and her expression was indistinguishable.

You are very perceptive, Henry, she said. Please leave some room for mystery to your colleagues.

Anthony nodded: Okay. Now that you put it like that, I had no idea there was a celebration related to me on Monday morning.

Thanks to the tipper, the troll passed by with four little swans dancing: (sorted in chronological order)

Book friend 20230613170027167 (500 points), kxdjt (500 points), book friend 20220702074921293 (100 points), Yanjiang (100 points), don’t use it if you don’t have anything to do (1000 points), baka Mengyun (5000 points), book friend 160718084420970 ( 100 points), Mu Zi Gan Mu (100 points), Qing Yan (100 points), One Nine Zero Zero (500 points), Mandarin River (100 points), Alhosud's Pen (2 points), this is the enemy ( 2 points), Bloody Night (100 points), Thanks to book friends for the reward (2 points), The Guard of Despair (2 points), Frog Twelve (100 points), Bartender Bob (100 points), IM Fengyi Thief (500 points), Book Friend 20190217224427283 (100 points), Boiled Author Fungus (100 points), Street sign at the intersection of Tongtian Avenue (100 points), Ahekator (100 points), Yuyue (100 points) point)