章節 88: Method
Even more troubling, he was lost. The subterranean tunnels branched and twisted in every direction, and he couldn't recall from which corner he had entered.
Well, at least the place was teeming with corpses.
Several skeletal mice scurried ahead, disappearing into a fork in the path. Anthony followed slowly, their faint lights fading in the distance. Judging by their feedback, there were no dead ends ahead, just interconnected tunnels.
So, Anthony left behind a small mouse "candle" at each intersection he passed. Their eye sockets glowed with dim soul fire, and the uneven walls stretched his shadow into grotesque shapes that flickered in the eerie light.
He followed the broadest stream of magical energy he sensed, marking the path that led to the wall, and assigned a few unlucky rodents to explore each fork in the road.
His monotonous footsteps echoed in the tunnel, punctuated by the occasional drip of water hitting the ground. Anthony considered summoning some spectral rats, just for company and their squeaking. His cat might not approve, but he was starting to crave companionship.
Perhaps he should have let the cat follow after all.
Just then, he noticed one of his scouting rats seemed to have reached a dead end. It spun anxiously in place, then abruptly stopped and jumped. Anthony glanced curiously at the intersection and saw, under his command to move forward, the mouse was desperately trying to climb the muddy, slippery, arched wall. Above its head was a passage leading upwards.
He padded over, examined the passage, then picked up the skeletal rat and placed it inside. The mouse clawed its way up the steep incline, struggling to make progress.
"Never mind," Anthony said, pulling the mouse back and releasing its magic. The skeletal form quivered and crumbled into fragments.
This was another reason he disliked using necromancy. Even though he knew they were already dead, withdrawing his magic always felt like killing them all over again.
Summoning nearby bone fragments, he piled them at his feet and hands and began climbing. If he were alive, he'd say he was getting quite the cardio workout that night.
The white bones, held aloft by magic, formed a makeshift ladder. Anthony followed them upwards – the Room of Requirement was truly far above – until, growing impatient, he employed more necromancy, summoning a swarm of skeletal spirits to surround him, lifting him up along the bone-supported track.
If he had a choice, he'd prefer to use furry spirits. But the Basilisk's Lair offered few options, and there were bones aplenty.
The Room of Requirement awaited him. Anthony cleaned his clothes and shoes, stepped off his skeletal elevator, opened the door, and glanced back.
Unlike his skeletal cat or spectral chickens, he hadn't invested much necromantic energy into these utilitarian summons, nor had he given them much autonomy. They were merely tools under his control. Unlike the cat, which could roam the castle freely, these creatures would collapse into piles of bones once they left the range of his magic.
He worried they might get stuck in the passage like the dead rat.
Anthony tapped one of the spectral rats, channeling more magic into it.
"Squeak?" it chirped.
"Take all this stuff back down," Anthony ordered. "And stay down there. Don't come back up."
"Squeak," it replied.
Anthony hesitated. "I'll find another way up when I come back down. You can come with me then."
"Well, I hope my cat won't be too upset," he mused. But when the revived creature gazed up at him with dark, beady eyes and twitched its whiskers imploringly, Anthony found it difficult to say, "I'll just withdraw my magic and return you to the embrace of death."
...
"Fizzing Whizbees," he said to the gargoyle.
Despite the late hour, Anthony headed down to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had always said his office was open to Anthony.
The gargoyle leaped aside, revealing the staircase.
Professor Sprout had told Anthony about one of Dumbledore's quirks. Though he never visited the staff room for tea, the second box on the right side of the third shelf in the snack cabinet held the password to his office.
For over a month, that box had been filled with Fizzing Whizbees. Anthony hoped this meant Dumbledore was simply too lazy to change his password, rather than being absent from the school.
The quivering, smoke-spitting instruments sat motionless on the desk. Moonlight filtered through the partially drawn curtains, casting a serene glow. Fawkes perched quietly, watching him.
"Is the Headmaster in?" Anthony asked softly, not wanting to startle the phoenix.
Fawkes looked at him knowingly, then at Dumbledore's desk, and let out a soft chirp.
Anthony walked over and found a note:
"Away for the time being. For urgent matters, contact Minerva. For specific dark magic or potion-related injuries, contact Severus. Otherwise, you can reach me through Fawkes."
Anthony now understood Professor McGonagall's troubled expression when she'd left the Headmaster's office earlier.
He pondered whether a basilisk fell under "urgent matters," "dark magic," or "otherwise." It was like an operator asking, "Would you like sales, customer service, or other?" For a moment, he felt his issue encompassed all the options.
Ultimately, he decided to find Snape.
It wasn't because he didn't consider the basilisk urgent – though, given it had been slumbering under the castle for ages, how urgent could it be? – nor was it because McGonagall might be asleep. Rather, his route through the tunnels had taken him past Snape's potion stores. Either Snape was still awake, or his ingredients were having a lively party, dancing around the potions lab.
Either way, he wouldn't feel guilty for disturbing Snape's beauty sleep. Since Snape was working late anyway, he might as well help solve Anthony's problem.
Anthony knocked on the door, feeling the resentful little mouse spirits working hard to move the bones.
"Does the phrase 'three in the morning' mean anything to you, Anthony?" Snape opened the door, irritation evident in his voice.
"A time when neither of us is asleep?" Anthony countered. "The note in the Headmaster's office told me to find you."
Snape raised an eyebrow.
Anthony got straight to the point. "I've come to you about a dead snake."
Suddenly, he realized how to get through the door. He needed to speak Parseltongue.
And, conveniently, he was a very talented necromancer who could control any corpse, including, of course, that of a snake.
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