Scrimgeour's Trouble

Rufus Scrimgeour rubbed his forehead.

"So, Mr. Anthony, you escaped from prison?"

"Not really," Anthony said calmly. "What you said is more or less an illegal detention. I know nothing about law and haven't gone through the due judicial process. I worked hard and came home from work, but I was taken away for no reason. So here I am, and then a bunch of people who are constantly threatening to kill me ask me why my finger-sucking raw chicken moves. I've been pretty cooperative with your work. It's really hard to keep things together indefinitely without knowing what they are. I just went to ask for leave from my boss because I couldn't explain what I was going to do. She was very unhappy, and so was I. As a taxpayer, I asked the relevant department to give me an explanation, and obviously, you are the relevant department, so I am here."

"Would you like some more tea, Mr. Anthony?" Scrimgeour knocked on the edge of the table, and the teapot flew up for the third time to fill Anthony's cup. "Well, I'll say it again; Necromancy is very, very, dark magic. I would like to believe that you may not mean it, but it is a pity that users of this kind of dark magic can be imprisoned in Azkaban without trial."

"Then let me say it again, Mr. Scrimgeour. I am not convinced, and I want to appeal. Anthony said seriously, "I just want to live a peaceful life. If this peaceful life violates any of your rules, then explain it to me."

Scrimgeour sighed angrily, "Mr. Anthony, in short, playing with bones and souls is not allowed because it is suspected of necromancy. Necromancy is completely black magic. It attempts to blur the boundaries between life and death. And history has taught us not to do this. The history class at Hogwarts... forget it; you might have been studying the composition of Professor Binns at that time."

Anthony took a sip of tea and pointed out calmly, "This is obviously unreasonable because you just tried to punish me by putting me in a group of tattered robes that blur the boundaries between life and death. By the way, I am not from any magic school, so unfortunately, I didn't take your history class."

Scrimgeour shook his head, "Mr. Anthony, I'm sorry, there seems to be some misunderstanding. What is your alma mater...?"

"King's College London," Anthony replied, "I have a complete personnel file. Since you are so powerful, you can check it yourself." He couldn't help but stabbed.

The ignorance and arrogance of this group of people made him extremely disappointed in the wizarding world. At this time, he missed his former colleagues in the human resources department for the first time. Those colleagues' mastery of communicating (and kicking the ball around) is more of a superpower than waving a magic wand.

"No experience of studying or working outside England? Durmstrang?" Scrimgeour spread out the parchment.

"No, you can check it as you like," Anthony said firmly, "Except for last March, I have been living in what you call the Muggle world. I have an employment contract, a rental contract, a registered address, medical insurance records, and a bank for bill records. You can even ask my neighborhood committee directly."

"The undetected British wizard... This is Dumbledore's business..." Scrimgeour nodded and listened to Anthony's complaints while lowering his head to write, "Mr. Anthony, I believe this is an unexpected tragedy. Hogwarts did not detect and remind you to receive magic education in time, so you do not understand the dark nature and taboo reasons of undead magic... just pretend that you do not understand. In short, I will immediately inform the minister and Hogwarts of your situation. Principals, and they make the decisions."

Anthony watched with interest as Scrimgeour tied the letter and copy to the feet of the two owls. Seeing that things finally seemed to be turning around, Anthony's mood improved. If wizards' email CCs are so complicated, I guess their owls won't be too fond of mass mailings.

He even took a moment to try to understand how the owl read the shipping address. Perhaps because he was looking too intently, an owl turned its head, raised its wings, and hooted menacingly.

"By the way, where were you last March?" After seeing off the owl, Scrimgeour recalled Anthony's narration.

"Uh..." Anthony looked away, a little embarrassed, "I should have been dead by then."

Scrimgeour stared at Anthony as if trying to understand what the necromancer's code was.

"So, about that blurred line between life and death... Well... Anyway, I probably died for more than a month." Anthony said.

"Dead for over a month," Scrimgeour repeated.

"Yes, and then I was resurrected due to my continuous efforts."

"Resurrection??."

"Then I discovered I could play with bones. I moved house, for reasons you can probably imagine, and tried to rebuild a quiet life. A year later, a swarm of owls burst into my house, followed by a group of people. Open my door, kill my pets, and announce indiscriminately that I will spend the rest of my life with more than fifty rags." Anthony concluded his statement.

"I'm sorry," Scrimgeour said reflexively.

"Thanks."

Scrimgeour stared at him: "Do you know Dumbledore?"

"I believe you mean the Headmaster of Onewards," said Anthony.

Scrimgeour corrected: "It's Hogwarts. Forget it. He needs to come here." He pulled out his wand and said, "Patronus! If Dumbledore doesn't read the letter again, tell him that there is someone here who claims to be resurrected. I think he would be interested in the necromancer." He hesitated for a few seconds, "Tell the minister again, Dumbledore may come to check on the necromancer who failed in his duty at Hogwarts."

Anthony watched as the silvery animal lowered its head and rubbed Scrimgeour's hand, jumped over his desk, and disappeared next to the bookshelf.

"So beautiful, and quite smart." He admired.

Scrimgeour quipped politely: "Yes, Mr. Necromancer, I'm glad you appreciate it. The Patronus, the antonym of Dark Magic, the nemesis of the Dementors."

Anthony was even curious about some knowledge he didn't know at this time: "Dementors?"

Scrimgeour waved his hand: "They are the dark creatures that blur the boundary between life and death. They live by sucking the happiness of human beings. It is even difficult to say whether they are intelligent." He suddenly realized something, "Wait, can you control them?"

"Of course not," Anthony said, "Why?"

Scrimgeour breathed a sigh of relief, then realized something was wrong: "Then how did you get out?"

"I asked them politely," Anthony said. "Please and thank you, they work great."

"Dumbledore! Come here immediately!"