HP: The Necromancer

"Tell me about Hogwarts, Mr. Anthony," Kevin demanded.

While Anthony was out buying meat, he ran into Mr. Jones, who was insistent on inviting him over for dinner. Mrs. Jones, caught off guard by the unexpected guest, quickly prepared an extra salad.

"Have you bought your textbooks and wand?" Anthony asked.

"I've got my wand. Professor Snape took me to Diagon Alley," Kevin whispered, reluctantly stirring his carrot purée with a spoon. "But the textbook list hasn't been sent out yet. Professor Snape told me to go back once I received the letter, but... I don't remember the way anymore. I wanted to take my parents with me, but I couldn't find the wall he pointed out at the time."

Mrs. Jones frowned. "The professor said that if we went, we'd just cause trouble. Honestly, I was worried he was trying to kidnap Kevin! We're just two Muggles left to sit at home, worrying!"

She emphasized the word Muggle with clear disapproval and glanced toward the dining table, where Anthony noticed a copy of A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.

"I think he might have just been busy," Anthony said dryly in Snape's defense, before quickly shifting the conversation back to Kevin's question. "So, what do you want to know about Hogwarts?"

Kevin thought for a moment before asking, "Mr. Anthony, what's the deal with the Sorting?"

"Ah, I can't say," Anthony replied with a smile, shaking his head. "I've been strictly warned that all first-year students should experience the Sorting with as little preparation as possible. So, unfortunately, I can't spoil the surprise and deprive you of the thrilling fun of it."

Kevin scooped up a mouthful of carrot purée with a glum expression before suddenly exclaiming, "'Thrilling Sorting Fun'? Mr. Anthony, are they going to make me duel a dragon? Can I see a dragon?"

"Sit down, Kevin—and stop waving your spoon around," Mrs. Jones scolded.

Anthony considered his words carefully. "I can't say."

"You hesitated!" Kevin said triumphantly. "I knew it! I was right! I am going to duel a dragon!"

"What?!" Mr. and Mrs. Jones said in unison, looking at each other in pale-faced horror.

Trying to stay composed, Mrs. Jones turned to Anthony and asked, "Can we withdraw him from Hogwarts, Mr. Anthony—Professor Anthony?"

"It's fine, Mum," Kevin reassured her, stabbing a piece of chicken from his salad with his fork. "Chickens are descended from dinosaurs. After so many years of evolution, the dragons in the wizarding world might just be fire-breathing chickens."

"Chickens aren't supposed to breathe fire," Mr. Jones pointed out.

"People aren't supposed to do magic," Kevin shot back, looking up at his father. "Mr. Anthony, tell me something else about Hogwarts—something you can talk about!"

Recalling his early days at Hogwarts, Anthony said, "Hogwarts is a truly magical castle. The staircases sometimes disappear without warning, and the portraits move and talk."

"The castle?!" Mr. Jones exclaimed in shock.

"There are also ghosts. They're milky white and float around, but don't worry—they won't hurt you because they can't physically touch you. However, there's one particular troublemaker called Peeves. Unlike the others, he has color, can interact with objects, and loves playing tricks on students. Most people try to avoid him."

Mrs. Jones looked even more concerned. "Why would there be ghosts in a school? I thought they were supposed to haunt graveyards."

"I was surprised too," Anthony admitted. "But ghosts usually linger in places they were attached to during their lives. Hogwarts, for some reason, seems to attract all sorts of lost spirits." He added reassuringly, "But don't worry—ghosts at Hogwarts are actually quite friendly. They're just... well, people who happen to be dead. They rarely interfere with students."

"What else?" Kevin asked eagerly. "Like… um… what's it like to study at Hogwarts? Professor Snape said I can't go home on weekends."

"That's right. Hogwarts is a full-time boarding school," Anthony confirmed. "As for classes, well… it's similar to Muggle schools in that each professor has their own teaching style. Your schedule will determine which subjects you take and which houses you'll be grouped with for certain lessons."

He paused, thinking of something that might cheer Kevin up. "Oh, and here's some good news: the food at Hogwarts is some of the best I've ever had. The school even provides ice cream at both lunch and dinner—you can eat as much as you like."

"Wait, really?!" Kevin's eyes widened in excitement. "That's amazing!" He shoved the last bite of food into his mouth and, with his fork still between his teeth, declared that he was finished. Clearly, he had no concerns about academics or living arrangements anymore.

Mrs. Jones smiled but said, "If you want ice cream, Kevin, why don't you go tidy up your room first? I see your T-Rex lying on the floor, and your saber-toothed tiger is definitely not in its place. Let your dinosaurs return to their homes—they need lunch too, don't they?"

"Okay, Mum—" Kevin stretched out the word, slipping off his chair. He put on his slippers and dashed off to tidy up his toys.

As soon as Kevin was out of earshot, the Jones couple's real worries became apparent.

"Tell us about dragons, Professor Anthony," Mrs. Jones pleaded.

Anthony chuckled. "Don't worry. I can assure you that the Sorting has nothing to do with dueling dragons. From what I saw, even I didn't entirely understand what was happening."

After all, it involved placing a talking hat—supposedly one that belonged to Godric Gryffindor—on an 11-year-old's head and having it declare their future aspirations and personality traits.

Anthony couldn't say with certainty whether this method was any more reliable than, say, asking students to feed Norbert a dead mouse. He imagined an alternative method where students determined their houses based on which finger they instinctively bit while feeding a dragon:

Thumb biters? Gryffindor. Index finger biters? Hufflepuff. Ring finger biters? Ravenclaw. Pinky biters? Slytherin. Bit more than one finger? They get to choose. Bit their middle finger? Congratulations—you're feeding Norbert again.

Mr. Jones, still flipping through A History of Magic, asked, "It says here that the four founders created the four houses and admitted students based on their own criteria. What exactly does that mean?"

"I can't guarantee that everything I say is completely accurate," Anthony admitted. "I've only been at Hogwarts for a year, and I was just a professor for an elective course. But from what I've observed, students are sorted based on their ambitions and ideals into different houses. Besides their studies, students' extracurricular lives are usually managed by the prefects and the heads of their respective houses."

"Which house is Kevin most likely to be sorted into?" Mrs. Jones asked. "And, Professor Anthony, may I ask which house you were in?"

"I think Kevin will probably be in either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Anthony said. "But we won't know for sure until the Sorting is done."

"And me?" he added with a small smile. "I don't belong to any house—I didn't graduate from Hogwarts."

"I read in A History of Magic that there are other wizarding schools outside Britain," Mr. Jones said. "Are you a graduate of one of those? Perhaps Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?"

"No," Anthony replied with a smile. "Although I am a wizard now, I received what you would call a Muggle education."

The Joneses exchanged confused looks, clearly struggling to understand. Snape must have made them believe that magic was an inherited gift, something that naturally led to a magical education.

Anthony explained, "It's a bit of a complicated story, but to put it simply—I only attended Hogwarts for a year."

"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Jones suddenly exclaimed. She looked relieved. "Then you must understand what we're worried about, right? Is Hogwarts really a good school? What was your first impression when you arrived?"

Anthony hesitated for a moment before answering. "I have to be honest. When I first arrived at Hogwarts, I didn't particularly care what it was like. At the time, I didn't have a choice—it was a difficult situation, part of that 'complicated story' I mentioned earlier."

He smiled apologetically at Mr. Jones, who looked like he was about to ask another question. "As you can imagine, after spending more than twenty years in a non-magical environment, stepping into the wizarding world made me feel like a complete outsider. I didn't think I belonged there—certainly not at Hogwarts."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Anthony," Mrs. Jones interrupted, getting up and opening the refrigerator. "Would you like some ice cream? We have cherry and chocolate."

"Don't worry, I'm about to get to the 'but'," Anthony said, amused. "But… Hogwarts is a very strange place. There are many things there that could be frustrating, some of which I still don't know how to fix, and some I don't even understand the reasons behind…"

He paused, then continued, "But after all, it is a magical castle. Just like something out of a fairy tale. Hogwarts has unicorns, merpeople, centaurs—" he hesitated, choosing to skip mentioning the giant spiders and the Norwegian Ridgeback currently residing at the castle, "and most importantly, it has incredibly kind and sincere people. The staff and students have been exceptionally welcoming and tolerant of me. I've received a lot of kindness there."

Mr. Jones considered his words carefully before asking, "So, do you think Kevin will be happy at Hogwarts? And more importantly, is it safe?"

"Safe? Not at all," Anthony said seriously. "Happy? Yes. Judging by Kevin's personality, I think he'll absolutely love it."

"But..." Mrs. Jones began, opening her mouth several times as if searching for the right words, but she never finished her sentence.

Anthony nodded knowingly. "Yes, I understand. There's a saying that Hogwarts is the safest place in the world. Wizards are really quite strange sometimes."

"Mom! Dad! I've got it!" Kevin yelled, running back into the room. "I want the cherry flavor!"

…

Anthony had only just escaped from Kevin's relentless pleading when the Joneses saved him from further questioning. However, he made the mistake of mentioning that he wouldn't be able to accompany them to Diagon Alley next week because he had a meeting with the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.

No matter how much Kevin begged his parents with his sweetest and most obedient voice, the boring adults refused to let him tag along to the past.

"I won't say a word! I'll be as quiet as a statue, Mr. Anthony," Kevin assured him. "I just want to see what a dragon owner looks like."

Anthony, gentle but firm, said, "No, Kevin." Apart from meeting the dragon keepers, this small, unofficial gathering would also include an unpredictable dragon and a very likely teary-eyed Hagrid.

The Joneses reinforced Anthony's decision. "Absolutely not. Mr. Anthony has his own business to take care of, and you shouldn't trouble him."

They walked Anthony to the door, repeatedly thanking him for taking the time to visit and apologizing for Kevin's request.

"If I can have one more scoop of ice cream, I won't mention following Mr. Anthony anymore," Kevin bargained as he followed them to the door.

"Kevin!" Mrs. Jones scolded, then sighed. "Fine, but only one small scoop."

"I want chocolate!" Kevin declared without hesitation, dashing back into the kitchen. "Goodbye, Mr. Anthony! See you at school! Thank you for answering our questions, and thank you for the second scoop of ice cream!"

"Why don't you thank me?" Mrs. Jones asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Because I love you!" Kevin grinned, holding up his spoon triumphantly. "Would you like a scoop of chocolate too, Mom?"

"No, thank you," Mrs. Jones replied.

"I'll take one," said Mr. Jones with authority.

…

The day of the meeting with Charlie's dragon-keeper friends arrived quickly.

Anthony left the cat, the chicken, and the mouse at home—firmly instructing the chicken to watch the cat and ensure it didn't set anything on fire with its usual antics—and returned to Hogwarts alone in the early morning.

After the students left, Hogwarts felt eerily empty. Wildflowers and grass sprouted from the well-trodden paths, swaying gently in the morning breeze. Somehow, the Black Lake seemed larger than usual, reflecting the clear blue sky. Gentle waves lapped at the shore, and a stoat, seemingly escaped from nowhere, stared at the lake in a trance. Startled by Anthony's footsteps, it darted into the bushes.

Anthony knocked on Hagrid's door, only to be startled by the sound of something heavy collapsing inside the room.

"Hagrid, are you home?"

"Come in, Henry," Hagrid called in a nasal voice, dragging his feet to open the door. His eyes were red and puffy. "Take one last—one last look at Norbert!" he choked.

Norbert was enthusiastically tearing at the snack cabinet, his claws scraping the reinforced wood as the cabinet tilted precariously, seemingly ready to collapse under the dragon's strength.

"I've been workin' on decorations for his travel trunk," Hagrid said, his voice thick with emotion, stepping aside to let Anthony in.

Behind him stood the box that would be used to transport Norbert. It was a solid, sturdy crate reinforced with Charlie's advice and several spells to make it fireproof. The box had been painted bright red, with a circle of balloons tied around it. In the center, Hagrid had painstakingly painted the name Norbert in large, wobbly letters.

Hagrid wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. "I wanted it to feel like a birthday party... but I can't even celebrate his first birthday! Poor, poor Norbert!" His voice cracked as he looked at the dragon.

Norbert, meanwhile, had burned the corner of the cabinet black with his fiery breath.

"You can visit the sanctuary to see him," Anthony reminded him. "You can celebrate Norbert's first birthday in Romania, with other dragons."

Hagrid stared at the little dragon with watery eyes before walking over to the crate and opening its lid. "I've put some things in for him," he explained. "A dead mouse, a bottle of brandy, his toy bear... in case he gets lonely." He sniffed and continued, "Oh, and I put the teapot he was born in, and your old robe too… Oh, Norbert, I wish I could give you more!"

Anthony noticed a tear-streaked letter tucked into the box as well, the parchment wrinkled and stained.

"You could add something personal," Anthony suggested gently. "Something that would remind Norbert of you."

"Norbert—I…" Hagrid's tears spilled over again, soaking into his bushy beard. "I don't know what would feel right. I was thinkin' about adding a few of my rock cakes and maybe some stoat sandwiches." He paused. "But what if he doesn't like them? Oh, Norbert!"

At this point, the dragon finally seemed to notice Anthony's presence. Norbert turned his bright, gleaming eyes towards him, sniffing the air suspiciously. Anthony was taken aback to see how much the dragon had grown in just a week. Its smoky snout and sharp teeth now looked genuinely menacing.

Norbert raised his head higher, sniffed a few more times, and then made a soft, rumbling noise.

"Oh my goodness, Norbert!" Hagrid exclaimed, his earlier sorrow replaced by shock.

"What's it doing?" Anthony asked, frowning slightly.

"It's purrin' at you," Hagrid said, his voice full of wonder. "It likes you."

...

Extra Chapter @50 PS