HP: The Necromancer

Under the cloudless blue sky, the ripples on the lake were warm and almost unreal. Anthony met a few students who greeted him; some stopped to chat briefly, while others simply smiled and nodded.

He noticed a student who had failed his test sitting on the beach, playing Gobstones with his friends. Deciding not to reveal the student's specific score just yet, Anthony figured it would only dampen the mood. But then again, with half the test paper left blank, what kind of score could the student realistically expect?

While scanning the lake for the giant squid, Anthony thought he saw Myrtle. Unless the mermaid looked oddly similar to her, or Myrtle had a twin ghost sister, it must have been Myrtle. Her ghostly, translucent face surfaced above the water, her glasses barely visible. She gazed at the students sunbathing on the shore with her usual air of resentment. A school of blue fish swam right through her neck and chest.

Spotting Anthony, Myrtle gave a little "Oh," seeming uncertain of how to act; they didn't usually encounter each other outside the bathroom.

"Hello, Myrtle," Anthony said, crouching down by the water's edge.

Myrtle's face rose further from the water as she replied in her usual sullen tone, "Hello, Professor Anthony."

"Did you enjoy coming to the Black Lake when you were alive?" Anthony asked. It was the first time he'd seen a ghost outside the castle.

Myrtle replied, "No, I didn't come here then. But now that I'm a ghost, I come to the lake at night to relax... You know, Professor Anthony, there are no annoying students here..."

"I meant, how did you get here?" Anthony asked, then suddenly remembered Myrtle had once mentioned traveling through pipes to any bathroom in Hogwarts. "Wait, is there a bathroom pipe that leads here?"

"Yes, yes," Myrtle squeaked, tears forming behind her thick glasses. "I had no choice! They just flushed me down here—people who never cared if a ghost was in the toilet before they flushed! I'm the least important of all the ghosts, of course! Just flush Myrtle away so you don't have to see her!"

Her tears trickled into the lake without causing a ripple. Anthony wanted to comfort her, but he had no experience with the plight of being flushed down into the Hogwarts sewer system.

At that moment, the giant squid swam over lazily, tentacles trailing in the water. It curiously poked Myrtle, only for its arm to pass right through her.

Both Myrtle and the giant squid jumped in surprise.

"Get lost!" Myrtle shouted angrily, and the giant squid shrank back, moving away from the translucent ghost.

While Myrtle, momentarily forgetting her tears, glared at the retreating squid, Anthony quickly changed the subject. "I haven't seen much of you lately."

"You haven't come to my bathroom, Professor," said Myrtle mournfully. "Nick was hosting a party there. I wanted to invite you and Professor Quirrell—since you're our neighbors—but Peeves tore up the invitations we prepared. It's not easy for a ghost to prepare invitations!"

Anthony asked with interest, "You had a party? What kind of party?"

"The Shroud and Burial Party," Myrtle said nostalgically. "We all pretended we'd just died and were about to be dumped into the sewer by the living. The moaning, the wailing, the crying...oh, it was wonderful. I kept telling Nick he should do it again, but his mind is already on that Headless Hunt."

"Headless Hunt?"

"A group of ghosts who do horseback juggling and stuff. Ever since Nick heard about them at the party, he's been talking about joining. He wants to do something memorable before his 500th deathday..." Myrtle said, scratching her chin. "I think flushing his head into the Black Lake would be memorable, don't you, Professor?"

"Well... maybe," said Anthony.

Myrtle asked, "By the way, where's Professor Quirrell?"

"He left," said Anthony. "Didn't the other ghosts tell you? He's no longer a professor at Hogwarts... Not sure if he waited around for his last paycheck. He really should've stayed until the end of the school year to sort things out."

Myrtle said sadly, "Yes, the living always come and go. But I'm dead... I have no job, no salary, and no things of my own... Even the little time I have to think is interrupted by others..." Tears began to fill her eyes again. She looked sadly at the sunlit lawn, then at the students approaching her, and sank back into the lake.

Anthony waited by the lake for a while, feeding dry bread to the giant squid, but Myrtle didn't resurface. She had probably returned to her bathroom through the pipes. Hogwarts' drainage system was truly old-fashioned, and Anthony couldn't imagine wanting to be a mermaid in the Black Lake under such conditions.

…

As he had expected, his afternoon was quite busy. As he left the Great Hall, he heard several footsteps following closely behind. His students were attempting to look casual, as though they'd just finished lunch and happened to be walking the same route as their professor—and also happened to want to go to his office to discuss pet adoption.

Anthony opened his office door and said with a grin, "After you, Mr. Roberts."

"Okay, Professor Anthony!" Roberts said cheerfully, nudging his friend beside him in a show-off manner.

"Next up, it's you. I remember you wanted to adopt a dog?" Anthony said, stopping Roberts' friend and quickly retrieving some information from his drawer. "Here are Hogwarts' pet regulations. As we discussed last time, dogs may only be kept in your own home. This is the health report provided by Ms. Howard, which she'll use to process our applications this week and next. If she conducts a telephone interview with you, please remember to thank her. Take a look at this information first. Alright, Roberts, come on in."

The mischievous mouse had disappeared into some unknown corner, but the ginger cat remained perched atop Anthony's wine box. It cast a cool glance at Anthony and the student who entered, then turned its head and settled back down. The student eyed the cat a few times but wisely refrained from disturbing it.

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Roberts," Anthony said, flipping through the documents. "Let me see… a black cat, no prior family pets, father's a curse breaker, mother's a healer, correct?"

"That's right, Professor," Roberts replied, leaning over to admire the photo of the black cat that wasn't his yet. "Oh, what a cutie."

"Ms. Howard has suggested Friday for the phone interview. Are your exams finished by then?"

"No, I still have Arithmancy left," Roberts said, his smile dimming slightly, "but there's no test scheduled for Friday."

"Great. I'll confirm the interview time with Ms. Howard," Anthony said, jotting down a few notes. "Since it's a telephone interview, I'll take you to Apparate outside Hogwarts so you can use a phone. I've rented a small room at a nearby inn—don't worry, I have the certification for Apparition. I promise not to lose any of your belongings."

"Yes, Professor," Roberts said, though he still looked slightly uncertain.

"You can also take the train," Anthony suggested. "There's a small town about a 40-minute walk away, and from there, it's only a five-minute train ride to the hotel. Here's the name and address of the hotel." He pushed a piece of parchment toward Roberts.

"Apparition sounds good, Professor," Roberts replied, immediately shaking his head at the thought of a 40-minute walk. "I haven't tried it yet, and I'd rather Apparate!"

"That's settled, then," Anthony said. "Now, let's go through some basic preparations… For instance, have you had any experience with cats before?"

"No, Professor. Our cats at home are far too expensive," Roberts answered naturally.

"Then how can you be sure you'll take good care of this one?" Anthony asked with a smile, indicating that it was a mock interview. "I just want to make sure. For example, if the cat fell ill, what would you do?"

Roberts looked up, clearly trying to recall what he'd studied. "I would contact my veterinarian immediately and describe the symptoms as accurately as possible," he recited. "I'd follow their advice and arrange appropriate care. If the condition were mild and didn't require immediate attention, I'd monitor the cat closely and provide necessary home treatments based on the veterinarian's guidance."

"I would ensure the cat's comfort, isolate it if necessary, and provide a quiet, stress-free environment for it to rest and recover," he continued, pausing briefly to take a breath. "I'd strictly follow the vet's instructions for medication or treatment and watch the cat's health closely for any signs of change or improvement. If the situation worsened or showed no improvement, I wouldn't hesitate to seek further help or consider hospitalization if advised."

Anthony waited until Roberts had finished reciting before sliding a glass of lemonade over to him. "Take a break, Mr. Roberts. You've clearly prepared very thoroughly."

Roberts took the cup and said sheepishly, "I've recited it several times. I really want Isabella."

"You've already decided on a name?" Anthony smiled. "Very good. I can already picture Isabella curling up on your shoulders. But remember, those materials are just for reference. You can be honest based on your actual experience. Think about it, Mr. Roberts. Why do you think you'll be a good cat owner? For instance, how do you know you aren't allergic to cats?"

"My roommate has a cat," Roberts explained. "We actually have two cats in our dorm now. They wrestle on my pillow every day, and sometimes they scratch feathers out of it. But I can pick them up and scold them, and they never scratch me. I think I'm a good fit for a cat."

"How can you be sure that Isabella won't be bullied by the other two cats? Or that she won't end up picking fights with them?" Anthony asked. "You have to understand, when people at the pet rescue center give you a cat, they're not expecting you to train it to be subservient or a fighter. Cats don't always enjoy living with other cats—and some don't even like living with other creatures at all."

"But wizarding world cats are all like this!" Roberts replied. "We just put the cats in a basket together, and if they fight, we each take our own cat and walk away. If one gets hurt, we feed it a healing potion. And Isabella is a strong, beautiful cat who also loves people. I can't imagine her being bullied. Plus, I've made a special box for her next to my bed, and neither of the other cats can get in."

"She enjoys human company?" Anthony asked, looking down at the information Ms. Howard had sent him about the black cat. "Oh, yes, 'requires companionship,' 'intelligent and gentle'… The box idea is a great start, Mr. Roberts. You might want to mention that you've prepared a secure and private space for her, and that you're prepared to introduce her to your home gradually, in a controlled way, to ensure all the cats get acquainted safely."

"Got it, Professor," Roberts replied, mumbling phrases like "secure, private space" and "controlled introductions."

Anthony reassured him, "That's perfect; it shows that you've thought about potential challenges and are ready to handle them. A positive attitude and willingness to adapt are very important, Mr. Roberts."

"But is one trunk enough?" Roberts asked, sounding a bit anxious. "It sounds like I should give Isabella her own room. Are Muggle cats really that fragile, like Muggles? Are they that easy to stress out?"

"No, wizarding cats are just like Muggle cats," Anthony assured him. "Their personalities are more varied than any differences tied to whether their owners are magical or not. The differences lie in breeds and personalities, but they're all still cats."

"But it sounds like Muggles treat cats as if they're made of glass," Roberts remarked. "Our cats are stubborn, clawed little beasts. Aiden—my roommate's cat—once threw a fit when he couldn't chew his quill, and he ruined everyone's Potions homework."

"Yes, there are a few different approaches in the wizarding world compared to Muggle pet care," Anthony said. "For now, you could call it a bit of cultural adjustment."