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Anthony hesitated, putting the strange notebook back in its place and walking out of the library. Influenced by the afternoon tea gathering, he held a trace of wariness toward all inexplicably appearing magical objects.
But it didn't appear inexplicably, a voice said in his mind. It had always been placed there, only no one else could see it. Because no one else was a necromancer... only Anthony was.
"Professor Anthony!" Angelina greeted him.
He smiled and nodded. As he passed, he heard Angelina complaining to her friend, "Wood's gone mad. I can't go with you again this week. Next week then."
Her friend linked arms with her, sharing snacks from who-knows-where. "It's fine. Otherwise I'll go with Alicia."
Angelina said apologetically, "Alicia probably has to train too... Ugh, I really need to talk to Wood."
Her friend said, "I really regret not trying out for Quidditch. Then we could train together now."
"Yeah, if you'd tried out you'd definitely have made it. Sometimes I think you fly even better than me." Angelina sighed. "Some things, once you miss them, they're gone. I guess that's what Wood thinks too—why he's going crazy trying to win the Quidditch Cup before graduation."
Anthony stopped in his tracks. The ordinary brown hardcover notebook floated before his eyes again.
What if it contained the reason he'd suddenly become a necromancer? What if it told the story of necromancers? Wasn't he curious? Was he satisfied with instinctive innate necromancy spells? Didn't he want to explore more magical secrets? The notebook lingered in Anthony's mind, as if the next second it would be taken by someone else, and he could only regretfully miss this opportunity.
Anthony turned back to the library, rushed to the bookshelf, and hurriedly put the notebook in his bag.
Madam Pince looked at him strangely. Anthony showed her the cover. "Notebook."
"You're truly so diligent, Professor Anthony." Madam Pince said with feeling. "If all students studied like you, they could pass by third year."
Anthony smiled and thanked her, walking back to his office. His bag was heavier than when he came, but this weight was nothing—his heart was so happy it wanted to float.
...
Anthony flipped through a few pages and couldn't help hugging his cat. "Kitty, I thought what I learned in university was useless."
His cat cautiously sniffed the notebook and lay down.
This unknown necromancer had certainly received so-called "orthodox education." All records—even marginal notes—were written in Latin... medieval Latin, the common language of religion, politics, and academia. And Anthony, ever-diligent Anthony, had never let his mind wander in class.
Besides some experiments that looked hair-raising ("Living bone and dead bone: almost no difference. Considering cost, suggest choosing corpses whenever possible."), the notebook also contained some rather witty attempts. This wizard complained in the notebook that his mentor insisted on grilling meat in the wilderness but adamantly refused to eat summoned animal corpses.
"What's the difference between dying a moment ago and dying this moment?" the necromancer recorded philosophically. "If I connect magic to their corpses, they're all part of me. What's the difference between eating and not eating? Thrown into fire, they crackle and pop—just differences in fat content. What does it matter whether there's salt?"
Adjacent was a hastily written marginal note: "Better with salt."
The notebook also recorded some necromancy Anthony had never considered. As long as bones were sharpened, arrows could rise from graves. To hide a necromancer's identity, one could limit the range of wraiths and skeletons. Through certain casting steps, he could completely control summoned undead, whether wraiths, skeletons, or—if not for seeing the notebook, Anthony had never thought this was an option—corpses. If an apprentice was quite talented and practiced diligently, he could even "hear the whispers of bones."
The notebook read: "True necromancers can hear the whispers of bones. They speak softly to their master day and night. Some hope for life, some for death. Master warned me that if I still want to maintain human characteristics, don't listen too much to their voices. Talk more with living things, talk more with the living. That's why Master..."
"I still can't hear it speak."
"Master says I have difficulty controlling my emotions. Between life and death is very quiet. Emotions only interfere with my magic. Perhaps I'm not suited to be a necromancer."
"Master is becoming more and more like a dark creature. We've decided to move underground. But except for everything around him withering when he sleeps, I see no difference. I suspect he just had an argument and wants some quiet. Today he even ate a whole box of biscuits. A whole box."
...
Anthony tried the spells in the notebook, making his cat grow sharp claws one moment, then freeze bewildered on the bookshelf the next.
Necromancy perhaps tested confidence more than Charms. Anthony was quite certain his casting gestures definitely weren't accurate, but he casually tried several interesting necromancy spells—not one failed.
Perhaps this was why the Ministry firmly classified necromancers as Dark wizards. Anthony had to admit these magics were somewhat eerie... especially when all other wizards relied heavily on wands, necromancers only used gesture assistance in the most complex magic. And those gestures were merely simple descriptions like "raise hand" or "make fist."
(There was a spell recorded as Lumos that could ignite the soul-fire of all controlled corpses... the gesture was crossing fingers. Anthony couldn't help lamenting necromancers' dark humor.)
Other times, the necromancy in the notebook was basically: imagine your magic connecting with that corpse, imagine a light inside, imagine yourself wrapping around that light... good, you've succeeded. Now do whatever you want.
Completely unreasonable magic, and unparalleled sense of achievement.
Anthony had never felt any magic so effortless. The notebook was merely inspiration, and he grasped it immediately. He could feel that the more he used necromancy, the more proficient and powerful he became. He was Maxwell's demon standing on the boundary between life and death, moving the undead at will.
Now there was only one problem.
If he, a beginner, was this powerful... how had necromancers gone extinct?
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