The corpse of a mouse

"I know that look on your face," Aberforth said wearily. "Before you ask, yes, I am. Now be quiet."

Anthony was still reeling from the revelation. "I had no idea the Headmaster had a brother. But you do look alike, Mr. Dumbledore."

Aberforth scowled. "That's an insult, boy. I'd rather not resemble him."

Anthony immediately realized that the Dumbledore brothers had a complex relationship, and that a cardinal rule of being a good employee was not to pry into the boss's personal affairs.

The waiter chimed in, "Aw, why not?" He sounded disappointed. "I only applied to work here because you're the Headmaster's brother."

"And I hired you, you imbecile, because you drank Felix Felicis!" Aberforth roared. "You're fired!"

"Alright then," the waiter mumbled, still fixated on his disappointment at the bar owner's lack of reverence for Dumbledore.

When Anthony returned to Hogwarts, it was well past curfew. He emerged from the Room of Requirement and wandered the castle aimlessly.

Lately, a sense of unease had settled over the castle, and he had a feeling he'd find plenty of students roaming the halls tonight.

Though it was only mid-February, the professors were already feeling the pressure of the approaching final exams. Professor Burbage had suggested he start working on his thesis soon. Professor McGonagall was assigning piles of homework and was even grading papers while having tea in the staff room. Snape stalked the halls with a grim expression, and Quirrell... Quirrell was growing paler by the day. Anthony could sometimes sense the aura of death emanating from him.

He had tried to warn Professor Quirrell. After several subtle hints went unheeded, Anthony had almost bluntly told Quirrell that death was drawing near. It wasn't a threat, but a statement of fact.

Quirrell had nearly fled in terror.

Anthony suspected he was still scared, but couldn't think of a better way to phrase the warning. If Quirrell didn't understand "I think Professor Trelawney's reading of your tea leaves might have some merit," then "Please be careful, I suspect you might actually be dying" was a reasonable attempt.

...

On his way downstairs, he encountered his cat.

The feline had somehow acquired a mouse and was relishing the rodent's frantic scurrying back and forth. The cat's temperament had certainly improved. In its former state, this mouse would have met its demise within fifteen meters of the cat's whiskers. After all, Anthony had only forbidden the skeletal cat from harming people, not from indulging in the occasional rodent or insect snack.

He approached and observed. "Is this one of the Weasley's pets?"

Since the Weasley twins had joined the group visiting the pet rescue center, Anthony had become acquainted with their... unique pet inheritance traditions. They had shown him a Weasley family photo, featuring a pet rat named Scabbers, passed down through multiple generations.

But the rat in the photo was too small to discern any distinctive features... The only thing Anthony knew was that the male rat lived a long life and grew quite large.

The rat before him was certainly large.

The cat had pinned the mouse's tail to the floor with its claws, the tips digging into the base of the tail. Upon hearing Anthony's voice, the cat looked up at him as if seeking guidance. The mouse struggled for a while before seemingly giving up and playing dead.

Anthony hesitated for a moment before saying, "Let it go." Though unsure if it was the actual pet, he'd rather inconvenience Filch than risk killing a first-year Gryffindor's beloved companion.

The cat glanced down at the mouse, meowed softly, and released its paw.

"Good kitty," Anthony said, crouching down to stroke the cat's sleek fur. While the cat was distracted, the "unconscious" mouse suddenly opened its eyes – as if it had never fainted at all – and scurried away.

Anthony watched it flee down the stairs in a panic, stumbling and nearly colliding with the wall or tumbling down the steps.

"Quite clever," he remarked.

Then another meow echoed from below, followed by a high-pitched squeal. Both Anthony and his cat looked down the stairs.

He sighed. "No way." If this was indeed Scabbers, the skeletal cat would be partially responsible for the demise of Ron Weasley's pet. At least it had provided the initial tail piercing.

As Anthony reached the bottom of the stairs, he found the emaciated Mrs. Norris holding a dead mouse in her mouth, her bulbous eyes staring up at him.

"It's just me, not a student out past curfew," Anthony assured her, crouching down. "Mrs. Norris, could you please give me that mouse?"

Mrs. Norris tightened her grip on the mouse and took a step back. Anthony's cat jumped behind her, hissing menacingly. Mrs. Norris looked around, then dropped the mouse and stalked away in a huff. Anthony felt a pang of guilt for depriving Filch of his gift, but his concern for the mouse outweighed it.

The rat was most definitely dead. It would make excellent spellcasting material.

Anthony examined it, but couldn't determine whether it was the Weasley pet. It was a large male rat, and it looked old, but that didn't necessarily mean it had lived a long life.

He even considered, if this was indeed the beloved pet of the youngest Weasley – who reportedly let the rat sleep in his bed – whether he should animate the corpse to appear alive, albeit without a heartbeat and cold as ice.

...

The Weasley twins solved his dilemma. Unfortunately for them, they ran into Anthony upon returning from the Forbidden Forest ("What awful luck!"). After coughing up ten house points, they retrieved the mouse and assured Anthony it was definitely not Scabbers.

"He's bigger than this," Fred said.

"And missing a toe," George added.

"Plus, he's sleek."

"And lazy."

"He'd never run if given the chance to lie down."

All in all, the deceased rodent before them bore no resemblance to the Weasley family pet.

"Good. Back to your dorm, Weasleys," Anthony dismissed them.

He carried the dead mouse around the castle, hoping to find Mrs. Norris and return her gift. But as is often the case with cats, when one wants to find them, they become elusive.

As the sky began to lighten, Anthony decided to dispose of the body. He had no intention of using it as his own consumable... no matter how large the rat, it was too small to be of any real use to him. But Hogwarts lacked a proper disposal system, and he wasn't eager for a charcoal-broiled rat to be discovered in the fireplace.

Suddenly, a wave of inspiration struck him. He carried the mouse to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and began to pace before the blank wall.

I need a passage to the rat corpses beneath the castle... I need a passage to the rat corpses beneath the castle... I need a passage to the rat corpses beneath the castle...

A door appeared in the wall.