What kind of mess are you dealing with every day?

The students soon noticed that Professor Quirrell was missing. When Anthony announced that the remaining two sets of practical activities had been postponed to the next semester, he didn't receive as many complaints as expected. Instead, he saw thoughtful expressions and exchanged glances among the students.

"What's going on?" he asked, confused, unsure whether he should offer them the chocolate balls from his bag.

Cedric was pushed forward. Under the expectant and nervous gazes of his classmates, he asked quietly, "Is it because of Professor Quirrell?"

"What?"

"Professor Quirrell—he's missing, Professor Anthony," Cedric explained. "He looked really shaken when he came back after his last trip. We're all wondering what happened to him this time."

Anthony couldn't help but ask curiously, "What do you think happened?"

The students elbowed each other and mumbled, "Nothing, Professor."

Even if they didn't want to share their theories, Anthony soon learned from Professor Sprout what was circulating among the students.

Once the news spread that the Muggle Studies practical activities had been delayed, a theory gained momentum. The students speculated that Quirrell hadn't learned from his earlier embarrassing return and had tried to pull off something outside of school again. This time, they believed he violated the Statute of Secrecy, and was arrested by the Ministry of Magic. Many whispered that it was Quirrell's fault that they couldn't visit the Muggle world at this point in the term.

On the other hand, the students weren't particularly upset. First, the event was only postponed, not canceled. But more importantly, their minds were occupied by another big event: Dumbledore was starting a club.

For reasons known only to him, Dumbledore decided to call it the "Albacore Club," after a type of fish (Note 1).

The first meeting of the Albacore Club was a great success. The Great Hall was cleared out, and students eager to join waited excitedly in the corridor, holding their registration forms. However, after hearing Dumbledore's mermaid-like singing demonstration, many dropped out with regret.

"No, I don't think my voice is high enough," Anthony overheard one student say. "Did you hear that? I was really worried his crystal goblet was going to shatter."

Someone less tactful added, "Screaming by the lake? I'm not that crazy. I'd rather learn Parseltongue from Potter... at least that sounds cooler."

It was hard for Anthony not to agree with them, especially after he encountered a group of students in the hallway attempting to mimic the mermaid-like singing with high-pitched shrieks.

Even Myrtle was startled. She became convinced that they were mocking her shrill voice and floated sadly back to her bathroom. That day, Anthony sat in his office, seriously contemplating Hogwarts' drainage system. After his neighbors had escaped from Hogwarts, he now found himself the sole victim of flooding.

...

With Dumbledore taking charge of his club, Snape inevitably became the temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, covering all the topics for that class this year. This situation only added to the students' complaints about Quirrell.

"A temporary change of professor!" Percy Weasley and another prefect grumbled. "You know, we're taking our O.W.L.s this year!"

A classmate tried to console him: "It doesn't matter, Quirrell didn't teach us anything useful anyway."

But that did little to ease Percy's anxiety. He began complaining to anyone who would listen about the disorganized staffing and management at Hogwarts ("If I were in charge, I would..."), interspersing his complaints with random bits of knowledge ("I still wanted to ask Professor Quirrell about the Thirty-three Weaknesses of Vampires from our last class")—until he remembered his career counseling appointment with Professor McGonagall.

After listening to Percy's chatter, Anthony turned to Professor Burbage in confusion. "Is it really that hard to pass the O.W.L.s?"

Professor Burbage chuckled and said, "Not for us, certainly."

"Then why is Mr. Weasley so worked up?"

She corrected herself: "Well, let me clarify. The difficulty of the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s depends on the subject. Generally, the compulsory subjects that students have studied for years are more challenging than electives like ours. As for Mr. Weasley, I think he's just overly nervous. This is very common among students. Every year we have a group of fifth-year students who become quite hysterical."

Her prediction was quickly confirmed. With students like Percy, who constantly spoke about how the more they studied, the more ignorant they felt, anxiety spread rapidly through the school. And to be fair, Snape's approach in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes didn't exactly inspire confidence in their futures.

During a review session, Anthony heard that a fifth-year student had broken down in tears during Snape's class. The cause? Snape's habit of mocking their knowledge and questioning whether they had learned anything of value in the past five years.

"You're so right!" the student shouted, before bursting into tears, sobbing, "I've learned nothing—nothing! My brain is empty! I'm sure I've failed!"

Anthony asked in shock, "How did Professor Snape handle it?"

"We don't know," the student replied.

But the professors knew. They discussed how Snape had dragged the student by the arm through most of Hogwarts, handing him over to Madam Pomfrey with a request for a cup of demulcent to calm him down.

"Severus has been very busy lately," Professor Sprout remarked. "He's responsible for both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, provides career counseling for Slytherins, and now he's helping to restock supplies when the school hospital runs out of demulcent."

Anthony compared his workload and took a silent sip of iced pumpkin juice.

After submitting his test questions to Professor McGonagall and Professor Burbage, Anthony felt much more relaxed. He now had time to enjoy the cool air and iced desserts in the summer staff lounge. For the past few days, whenever he wasn't teaching, he would take his notebook and book to the lounge and sit writing and sketching. Professor Burbage joked that he had "become the caretaker of the painting in the lounge," while Professor Flitwick quipped that the sofa Anthony frequented "was beginning to take the shape of a human figure."

One afternoon, as Professor McGonagall was reviewing a piece of parchment filled with dense writing, she looked up and asked, "Speaking of career counseling, Pomona, how many students in Hufflepuff are aiming for St. Mungo's or the Ministry of Magic this year?"

"It's similar to previous years," Professor Sprout replied. "Most still want to work in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. Why?"

"There's been a noticeable drop in Gryffindor students wanting to pursue Quidditch careers," Professor McGonagall said, frowning. "You know, I used to get inquiries about Quidditch stardom, dragon breeding, and self-employment... Even those interested in the Ministry usually aimed for Auror positions."

Professor Flitwick chimed in, "There are quite a few in Ravenclaw looking to work at St. Mungo's or the Ministry as well." He added more ice to his soda and took a satisfied sip.

"Well, Ravenclaw has always leaned that way," Professor McGonagall remarked. "At least half of the people in the Department of Mysteries are Ravenclaw graduates, aren't they?"

Anthony asked, "Minerva, did any of those students who told you they wanted to go to the Ministry of Magic mention they were interested in the Department of Magical Games and Sports?"

"Hmm..." Professor McGonagall thought for a moment. "No, they didn't mention anything specific. Why do you ask?"

Anthony replied, "I've heard suggestions that they might want to fundamentally change the rules of Quidditch, not just limit it to Hogwarts. With that in mind, I'm guessing that some who are heading to St. Mungo's might be thinking along similar lines. The injury rate in Quidditch is really high."

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Well, that's a relief. I thought they'd completely lost interest in Quidditch."

...

Anthony wasn't just relaxing in the lounge—he was working on refining his magic.

After learning that Voldemort was still alive, Anthony couldn't stop replaying his confrontation with Quirrell in his mind. Even though he had hidden some details from Dumbledore, he couldn't lie to himself. He realized that his necromancy hadn't been able to instantly kill Quirrell or Voldemort—or perhaps both of them.

At first, he thought Voldemort, like himself, had likely devoured the soul of a creature before occupying its body. He believed that beneath the shells of the troll and Quirrell, the real confrontation had been between himself and Voldemort. But after repeatedly recalling the events, Anthony began to develop a strange new theory: he felt that Voldemort was clinging to Quirrell's soul like parasitic dodder.

And he felt that Quirrell might not be entirely dead.

He didn't know if this thought was just a way to comfort himself, but it eased the weight of guilt. It was easier to think that he had not only spared the dark wizard who had destroyed countless families but also released a small, unfortunate part of Quirrell's soul, trapped in the madness.

In his confusion, he even tried to stop the Bloody Baron, the only necromancer he knew of in Hogwarts, to ask if he had ever heard of any magic that attached itself to another's soul. The Baron had stared at him blankly for a long time before replying in his hoarse voice that necromancers dealt only with the dead, not with the souls of the living.

"Not even your mentor?" Anthony asked.

Baron said softly, "I can't fully grasp the mentor's ability… but I don't recall him ever commenting on other people's souls." He nodded to Anthony and floated away down the cellar corridor, looking as solemn as ever. A few Slytherin students hurried past, sneaking glances at Anthony, who stood there, deep in thought.

…

Anthony suddenly realized that in all the legends and records he'd seen about necromancers, they were always accompanied by skeletons, ghosts, and inferi. Yet, he had never heard of necromancy itself directly killing living people.

It made sense, really. The only illogical part was that after being lost for so many years, necromancy was suddenly rediscovered by someone who had already died once. From another perspective, Anthony couldn't help but feel like he'd been given a "buy one, get one" deal on magic.

He imagined it like a grim reaper working at a supermarket, dressed in a uniform, pointing to various items on the shelf with his scythe. The skeletal figure would open its mouth and enthusiastically tell him, "If you purchase Resurrection, you also get Soul Devouring and Necromantic Magic, absolutely free!"

…

Voldemort fled, leaving behind students preparing for exams, Professor McGonagall with an incomplete exam roster, a triumphant Snape, a failed trap, a magical stone, and Anthony—who was now questioning the extent of his powers. Yet, there was one person in all of Hogwarts completely unaffected by the chaos: Hagrid.

When Anthony visited Hagrid, he was immediately hit by a wave of heat upon entering the cabin and instinctively closed his eyes against it.

"Does it have to be this warm?" Anthony asked, unloading a heavy package.

Hagrid muttered into his beard, "Oh, sorry 'bout that…" He quickly helped Anthony with the package, opening it to reveal a stack of books. His face lit up with joy. "You really got 'em all! Thanks a million, Henry!"

"No problem," Anthony replied, handing Hagrid a copy of One Hundred and Eight Tips You May Want to Know About Fire Dragons. The normal-sized book looked like a pocket edition in Hagrid's massive hands.

Hagrid asked, "Did anyone get suspicious?"

"What? Oh, no. I think they just assumed I was running errands for students' career counseling." Anthony then remembered something. "By the way, do you still want to give Professor Kettleburn a retirement gift?"

Hagrid smacked his forehead. "Right, right. Did yeh ask about it?"

Anthony carefully pulled a book from another bag. "I did. Take a look at this… they're preparing to return it."

Hagrid had asked Anthony to borrow nearly every book on dragons from the library (including one particularly odd title discussing whether wine should be bottled before feeding it to young dragons). Eventually, Madam Pince, the librarian, had enough of his unusual requests and began looking at him suspiciously.

After Anthony sent a letter to Flourish and Blotts, he received an enthusiastic reply. So, after arranging a meeting, he visited the bookstore and collected a large pile of unsaleable books before heading to the Leaky Cauldron to catch up with an old friend over drinks.

When he described the "interesting book" Hagrid wanted to gift Kettleburn, the clerk immediately recalled a long list of titles they were desperate to return. One in particular stood out—a copy that had been dropped off by the author, who had begged the publisher to release it.

In the author's hands, the book had seemed odd but harmless. However, once it was placed in Flourish and Blotts' warehouse, it opened its jaws and chewed through nearly three full bookshelves. The clerk was desperate to get rid of the book before the owner discovered the damage, but the author had since disappeared.

"You could burn it," Anthony suggested.

"No, I'm a bookstore employee," the clerk refused firmly. "I sell books or return them, but I don't burn them."

So, after three glasses of wine, Anthony agreed to purchase the rogue book.

…

Note 1: Albacore was simply an anagram of Albus Dumbledore. Yes, Dumbledore was inspired by Professor Slughorn's Slug Club when naming his own.