The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Chapter 368 The Mirror Remains Silent
When Sirius carried Anthony back to camp, they were both very glad they hadn't packed up the tent when they left. Sirius's shattered right arm prevented him from using his wand properly for the time being, and although Anthony still had a flexible right hand, it—unfortunately—was not attached to his arm, making it almost impossible for him to hold his wand in the standard way.

Sirius Black placed the bag on the table, opened it, and let Anthony spill out. He then pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. The Wraith Chicken tilted its head and observed for a while before jumping onto the table, grabbing the bottom of the bag, and shaking it vigorously to help Anthony escape more quickly. Anthony tried to feel the position of his various parts, attempting to put himself back in place, but every time he tried to move his legs or shift his body, a part of him would roll to the floor. At first, the Skeleton Cat would even help pat the parts that had fallen under the cabinet back under the table, but it quickly grew tired of it, curling up in the shadows and watching everything indifferently.

"You've made a mess of the restaurant, Henry," Sirius commented after observing for a while.

“I’ll take care of it,” Anthony assured him. “I’m quite skilled at cleaning.”

He tried again for a while.

Sirius stood up and said, "No, I can't stare at you anymore. It's too creepy." He picked Anthony's forearm back up on the table and left the room.

Anthony vaguely heard Sirius turn on the radio, followed by the sound of running water from a tap. He couldn't figure out the tent's drainage system; Sirius clearly hadn't paid any water company, and the tent wasn't connected to any sewers (or lake)... Anthony pondered aimlessly, letting necromancy flow through his hands and arms, connecting them... But it was more likely there wasn't such a system at all; these taps might simply be alchemical devices mounted on the tent walls, providing a similar effect of flowing water...

Sirius returned and sat down. He seemed to have quickly washed his face and looked much more refreshed.

“Harry isn’t answering me,” Sirius said abruptly. “What are the students doing at this hour? Quidditch?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Anthony thought for a moment. “At least it’s not a Gryffindor match. I remember Gryffindor has already beaten the other three houses and won the Quidditch Cup—”

“Oh, I remember now!” said Sirius. “Harry told me before that today is the celebration match!”

"A celebration match?" Anthony asked curiously, while dragging his arm to his eyes to check if he had spelled it backwards.

"It's supposedly to celebrate Umbridge leaving school," Sirius shrugged. "Of course, Slytherin won't be participating, but the other three houses are happy to go. Anyway, the final exams are over, the Quidditch Cup results are in, and they don't have anything else to do."

Anthony said, "But didn't you say Mr. Potter was calling you earlier? Besides, Quidditch matches are usually scheduled for the morning, so they should be over by now. Do you want to try again?"

“Wait a minute.” Sirius shook his head. “Quidditch games can last all day.” He relaxed, leaned back in his chair, and examined his right arm.

“The few games I’ve watched all seemed to end pretty quickly,” Anthony said. “Sometimes it’s because the seeker catches the Golden Snitch fast, sometimes it’s because something unexpected happens quickly on the court. Do you need help?”

“I know the incantation for setting bones, but only a professional like Mrs. Pomfrey can guarantee it will actually set properly…” Sirius looked up at Anthony, “I guess neither of us can cast a decent incantation right now.”

“I can try in a bit,” Anthony said, reattaching his upper arm to his body. “What if it doesn’t fit properly?”

Sirius recalled: "Break it off and reconnect it."

“Then forget it,” Anthony said decisively.

“You can try splinting my arm first,” Sirius encouraged. “The spell is ‘splint tight.’ If you can straighten it first, the bone setting will be more likely to succeed.” He tried to pry his arm open, and his face contorted in pain.

Anthony said, "It's a pity that I'm only good at setting bones for the dead."

Sirius looked him over a few more times and commented, "At least you don't seem very good at setting your own bones."

“Well… this was an unexpected situation,” Anthony said. “After all, it was a killing curse.”

He lay scattered on the table, calmly assembling himself. The Killing Curse must have had a slight effect on his body. He could usually put these things together intuitively—fragments, body parts—but now that subtle connection seemed weakened, like an old magnet that could only loosely and lightly adhere to the refrigerator.

After a while, he suddenly realized that the room was unusually quiet. Anthony turned his head and saw Sirius staring at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asked.

"What does that feel like?" Sirius asked softly.

"Ok?"

“It’s nothing,” Sirius said quickly, sitting up straight. “Can I help you, Henry, maybe lend me a hand or something?”

Anthony said, "It was quick. I didn't feel anything."

Sirius Black paused.

“Really.” Anthony smiled (hopefully, given his current state, the expression wouldn’t look too horrifying), “By the way, could you please pick up that knee for me?”

……

Anthony stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and it took him a while to manage to rest his head steadily on his neck.

“I regret not buying that talking mirror,” Sirius said.

“A wise decision.” Anthony shook his head. “Especially after the tent broke so easily, I think you should be more careful in examining the practicality of magical items.”

Sirius said with a hint of pride, "At least the full emergency medical kit is very useful." He stretched out his arm and then easily bent it.

"It is indeed quite useful—after you remember that you bought it."

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Henry. It's not my fault that I couldn't immediately recall the shopping receipt after encountering Voldemort and my companions being torn apart."

“You forgot to talk to a head,” Anthony said. “Well, you’re right.”

"Speaking of which, where did Voldemort go?"

“He mentioned something about a new body, the preparations for making the first anchor… He seemed rather dissatisfied with the body we had encountered,” Anthony recalled, his mind seemingly becoming more active as his body became more complete (“Not hard to understand,” Sirius said sarcastically), “but he didn’t seem to mention where his new body was, only entrusting something to the snake for safekeeping and saying he would return.”

"When?" Sirius asked. "Are we going to wait here in this forest forever?"

“It would be best to find a way to get the news to Professor Dumbledore first,” Anthony said. “By the way, have you ever heard of ‘Hordeals’?” “Hordeals?” Sirius frowned. “Hordeals…no, never heard of them. Did Voldemort mention that word?”

Anthony nodded. For a while, the two of them stood there, each pondering Voldemort's possible hiding places. On one hand, Anthony hoped Voldemort's new body would be far from Hogwarts; on the other hand, he couldn't help but fantasize that if the body that gave Voldemort so much confidence happened to be in the Headmaster's office, it would save a lot of trouble. Given that Dumbledore had indeed tried to set a trap for Voldemort in Hogwarts, Anthony didn't think the latter conjecture was entirely absurd.

The restaurant clock began to chime.

“Well, it’s dinner time,” Anthony said. “I think we still have some bacon. How about pasta for dinner?”

"Excellent."

……

The bacon sizzled in the pan, filling the kitchen with a rich aroma. Sirius Black hummed a tune as he tossed a handful of spaghetti into the boiling pot and tilted the salt shaker, pouring salt in with a splash.

"...He awoke this morning in St. Mungo's and is now fine. According to Mr. Scrimgeour, the serious poisoning was caused by him accidentally drinking a cup of tea containing a purported antisperm potion, and has nothing to do with the various conspiracies previously speculated. Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, appealed to the public to trust the Ministry of Magic, while also reminding wizards to be mindful of food safety..."

“Scrinker?” Anthony asked in surprise.

“Barty Crouch, Director of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic, believes that this should not prevent the British magical community from engaging with other countries…”

Sirius Black turned around, tapped the tuning knob with his wand, and the radio's volume fluctuated before becoming clear again: "...Thank you, Professor Lockhart, for joining us on 'First-Hand News'! I can't wait to see your new book, Gilderoy—and a reminder to our printing press to prepare more paper as soon as possible to avoid the embarrassment of releasing 'Sailing with Vampires.' It will undoubtedly be a bestseller, and our only question is whether it can surpass the bestseller legend you yourself have created..."

Sirius tapped the radio again.

"Next up is 'Amazing Owl' time! Want to learn more about your magical companion? Want to know how to better care for your pet? Today we have with us Old Owl from Diagon Alley, an owl enthusiast fed up with people's incorrect feeding methods, and a trusted owl expert. He will introduce us to three foods that are beneficial for an owl's eyesight..."

"Crack!" The sound of air exploding drowned out the description of the owl's food. Anthony's hand trembled, and he almost threw the frying pan at the bald head of the house-elf that had just appeared.

"Professor Anthony!" the house-elf cried out joyfully, his eyes brimming with tears. "Dobby has found you, Professor Anthony!"

"Dobby?" Sirius asked suspiciously, pointing his wand at the elf. "Aren't you a Malfoy elf? What does Malfoy want with Henry?"

“Oh, no, Dobby came to see Professor Anthony himself… Dobby originally wanted to see Professor Dumbledore, but Professor Dumbledore is at Hogwarts, and Dobby can’t get in…”

Anthony put the pot aside: "What do you want from me, Dobby?"

"Dobby wants Professor Anthony to go and save Mr. Potter!" Dobby shouted. "Harry Potter is in danger!"

"What?" Sirius Black demanded sharply, "Where is Harry?"

“Harry Potter is… Oh, bad Dobby! Very, very bad Dobby!” Dobby suddenly pounced on Anthony’s side, pressing his thin, veiny ears against the scalding hot stove.

Anthony immediately grabbed him around the waist and pulled him away: "Dobby! I think you've already punished yourself!"

Sirius Black burst into the bedroom and shouted into the two-way mirror, "Harry, Harry! Can you hear me, Harry?"

“It’s alright, Dobby, we’ll take our time.” Anthony let the house-elf sit down by the sink. “I think you know where Mr. Potter is.” He stared into Dobby’s eyes. Those tennis ball-sized eyes blinked briefly, then opened again, looking at him expectantly.

“I think Porter is still in England.” He closed his eyes and then opened them again.

"I don't think Potter and Professor Dumbledore are together." (Closes, then opens.)

“Potter—is not with Voldemort.” His bulging eyes were filled with tears and remained open.

"He's not at Hogwarts?" Anthony asked, frowning.

Dobby screamed, “Dobby can’t say! Dobby can’t reveal the secret!” He swayed nervously back and forth by the sink, making the faucet rattle.

"Shh, it's okay, it's all just my guess, you didn't say anything. Try this, Potter isn't with any professors." Close your eyes, then open them.

“Potter is in a place with a Muggle expulsion spell.” Dobby squeezed his eyes shut.

“Potter is in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, or Knockturn Alley.” (Eyes wide open.)

“Potter is in St. Mungo.” (Eyes widened.)

Anthony hesitated for a few seconds. "I think Porter is on some private property." His eyes remained open. Anthony breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“Sirius!” Anthony shouted. “Besides Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley, what other non-private property has a Muggle expulsion charm?”

“Azkaban!” Sirius answered immediately, rushing back to the kitchen and gripping Dobby’s thin shoulders tightly. “Is Harry in Azkaban?”

“He can’t answer you!” Anthony said. “Dobby, Sirius thinks Mr. Potter is in Azkaban.”

Dobby's eyes were so wide open that Anthony almost worried his eyeballs would pop out.

"How long are we going to keep asking like this!" Sirius said impatiently. "I'm going to get the motorcycle—you have all the time you can spend playing guessing games with this little sprite on the way."

“The magic of elves is different from that of wizards. Sirius—Dobby can Apparate us back directly,” Anthony said. “Where else? Not the school, not the streets, not the hospital, not the prison… oh.” He turned to the house-elf shaking violently, “The Ministry of Magic.”

Dobby sobbed and closed his eyes tightly.

(End of this chapter)