The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Chapter 319 If at night, a senior investigator
Whoever had swept Myrtle away had at least not wandered the halls foolishly. Anthony walked through the moonlit corridors, past rows of silent suits of armor, opened several doors, checked for hidden students, and heard a few portraits talking in low voices about a landscape painting on the third floor that had been moved from its original location.

"Violet was so angry that she didn't speak for the whole afternoon," said a witch who was lanky and pointed.

The bald wizard exclaimed, "Really!"

A wizard with a walrus beard said, "She wanted to go to the woods to listen to what was going on, but she found that the opposite side of the picture frame had become a statue - you know, the statue of the one-eyed witch, where no one passed by at all - Violet waited all morning and only heard discussions about summoning spells and OWLs exams."

The bald wizard sympathetically said, "That's unfortunate. I quite like the idea of ​​the two red-haired boys letting the snake knock on the door... Why can't people just stand under the picture frame and chat about secrets every day?"

Anthony left quietly. He thought he knew where the forty points deducted from the Weasley twins came from.

……

When he returned to the second-floor corridor, Anthony was in a good mood, feeling that he had just played a wonderful game of hide-and-seek.

He hadn't met any of the students, so he assumed that neither had Filch, Snape, or Umbridge.

He knocked on Myrtle's bathroom door, but the only sound he could hear was the dripping of water on the floor. He also checked the Room of Requirement and the abandoned bathroom where Tracy brewed her potion, but he ignored the kitchen. If the culprit who flushed Myrtle away was enjoying a plate of chips, then he was a lucky guy.

He walked briskly to the door of his office, took out the key and inserted it into the lock. At this moment, he suddenly heard a sound, as if a dozen Roger snakes were playing hissing Parseltongue together.

Anthony stopped and listened carefully, but the voice did not come again. He was wondering where it came from when something even stranger happened. Umbridge came out of Myrtle's bathroom.

It was not Umbridge herself that startled Anthony, but her pale face. In the flickering torchlight, she looked like another ghost floating out of the bathroom.

"Good evening?" Anthony asked softly.

He was met with silence. Umbridge stopped and turned her head to look at his position.

Anthony regretted speaking out almost immediately. He felt very strange, but he couldn't tell why, just like some people would suddenly have an inexplicable urge in a dark alley, telling them to quickly escape from the strangely shaped trash cans and the plastic bags crawling slowly on the ground.

"Oh, Professor Anthony." Umbridge looked him over. "What are you doing here?"

The weird feeling disappeared.

"I'm getting ready to go back to my office," Anthony said, "as you can see."

Umbridge looked at the wooden door behind Anthony scrutinizingly: "Okay." She nodded slightly, maintaining a polite expression of doubt, and continued walking towards the stairs.

"Wait a moment, Madam Umbridge," said Anthony. "Myrtle said she encountered a student wandering around at night, and that she was flushed down the toilet by this student. I want to know - can you tell me - did you see this student, Madam Umbridge?"

"Unfortunately, no." Umbridge turned and said sweetly, "Besides, I do think it is very important to teach students to follow the rules. Please maintain this enthusiasm, Professor Anthony -"

"In that case, is there anything noteworthy in the girls' bathroom?"

Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

“It might be more appropriate to ask the ghost who lives there,” she said, sounding more impatient than she should. “Or, ask yourself. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you poking your head around here.”

Anthony looked at her. Hadn't she heard that strange, evil hiss? Only then did he notice that Umbridge's pink coat was a little wrinkled and the big bow on her head was gone. There was something muddy on her shoes that would make Filch's cheeks tremble.

"Oh, all right," Anthony said, "have a nice night."

"You too, Professor Anthony," said Umbridge in a shrill voice.

Anthony watched her leave the corridor.

"Who's that?" a voice sounded behind him.

"Myrtle!" Anthony turned around and saw the ghost's translucent head emerge from the bathroom door, looking in the direction Umbridge left.

Myrtle flew out of the bathroom and asked, "Who is she, Professor Anthony?" She circled around Anthony twice and said happily, "Haha, she is so ugly! She will be laughed at for the rest of her life!"

...Nothing extraordinary happened during the rest of the Easter holiday. The weather became warmer and warmer, and the spring sunshine shone brightly on the Black Lake. Anthony spent a lot of time wandering in the restricted section of the library or diving into the Room of Requirement, hiding from everyone's sight, as if he was really planning some ulterior motive.

After school started again, Lockhart's Lock Your Heart Club immediately held another event in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When Anthony passed by there, he just saw Umbridge walking out of the door with a unhappy look on her face, shutting out Lockhart's cheerful voice. She gave Anthony a hypocritical smile, carrying her pink bag, and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

"She came into Charms today," Professor Flitwick told Anthony during dinner. "I was just getting those crows and frogs ready and she came in and started asking me random questions - pumpkin juice?"

Anthony sighed. "What is she going to do?" He glanced at the other end of the staff. Umbridge had not come to dinner yet. Only Filch was looking down, talking to the skinny Mrs. Norris with satisfaction, probably about how Roger the Snake was completely banned. Mrs. Norris was tearing a napkin with great concentration.

"I don't know, but she'd better not mess with Minerva." Professor Flitwick's eyes sparkled with joy as he took a bite of apple pie. "Minerva has been in a bad mood lately."

Anthony asked with concern, "What's wrong with Minerva?" He also took a piece of apple pie and was satisfied to find that it still maintained the steaming, sweet and delicious state it had just come out of the oven.

"Same old routine," said Professor Flitwick cheerfully. "Busy with classes, dealing with students who break the rules, dealing with most of the mail that comes to the Headmaster's office, taking statistics on second-year students' third-year choices, attending Transfiguration conferences, yelling at Wood..."

"What are you talking about?" Professor McGonagall asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down to Professor Flitwick's left. "Good evening, Filius, Henry. Oh, fried potatoes with butter."

"Yes, would you like some?" Professor Flitwick pushed the plate of golden fried potatoes towards Professor McGonagall. Anthony took another piece of apple pie.

"Thank you. By the way, Henry, the list of students who will take Muggle Studies next year has been compiled. I have sent owls to you and Caridi. Remember to let me know your grade arrangements for next semester."

Anthony nodded, "No problem, thanks, Minerva."

"Will Dolores be with us next term?" asked Professor Flitwick.

Professor McGonagall said, a little tiredly, "I don't know. What happened to her?"

So Anthony and Professor Flitwick told her what had happened.

"It looks like she's decided to resume her investigation - whatever it is," said Professor McGonagall. "She's asked me to discuss it in detail in my office tomorrow. We'll see what the results are."

"An angry Deputy Headmaster?" suggested Professor Flitwick.

"A war-torn office?" Anthony agreed.

"An escaped Senior Inquisitor?" Professor Flitwick speculated.

"More likely a bunch of complaints about Albus," said Professor McGonagall, straight-faced. "He shouldn't have agreed to that ridiculous request in the first place! I just don't understand it - Peter Pettigrew died in Azkaban, killed by the Ministry and their own Dementors, and they act like Albus was silencing him!"

"What?" said Professor Flitwick in surprise, even stopping his knife and fork.

Anthony took the opportunity to pick up the last piece of apple pie.

……

After returning to the office, Anthony found two owls waiting for him outside the window. One of them, as expected, brought a list of third-year course selections for the next semester. The other brought a note that read:

"Dear Professor Henry Anthony:
"I noticed that you didn't respond to the last survey report that requested a response. (Anthony thought about it and thought that he probably stuffed it into a drawer after reading the score, and never read the "according to a certain law" or "please be informed" at the end.) In view of this, I must have a face-to-face conversation with you to clarify some issues.

"I hereby invite you to speak with me in detail in my office at 2pm this Wednesday. Refusal will be regarded as an attempt to obstruct the Ministry's legitimate investigation.

“I hope you’ll be on time for your appointment.

"Yours sincerely,
"Dolores Jane Umbridge
"(Senior Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic, Senior Inquisitor of Hogwarts)"

Anthony reached out to drive away the owl that was staring at him, and put the evil spirit mouse into his pocket. The owl pecked at him in dissatisfaction, and was driven away by the evil spirit chicken that flew over.

The wraith chicken fluttered onto the table, stretched its neck, tilted its head to study the note sent by Umbridge, and made a low clucking sound.

"Not good news, Chicken," Anthony said, and he called across the room, "Cat, do you want a piece of paper to tear?"

(End of this chapter)