Tunnel

Anthony opened the door. This time, there wasn't even a landing. Behind the door was a dark passage, winding its way down into the depths of the castle. He pulled the door open wide, took a quick look around, then swung the rat by its tail a few times and tossed it into the passage. He sincerely wished it a peaceful rest in some unknown rodent cemetery, reunited with its rat ancestors in rodent heaven.

However, the passage the Room of Requirement had conjured wasn't a simple vertical chute.

He could sense the small body getting stuck at a bend, lying motionless in the middle of the passage. He tried to telekinetically guide the dead mouse further down, but the passage was longer than he'd anticipated, and the mouse quickly slipped from his control.

Anthony, who never littered, looked at the hole with resignation and sat on the edge, contemplating. His cat approached cautiously and peered down.

"You go back first," Anthony instructed, petting the feline.

The cat looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Think about it, cat," Anthony said. "It probably doesn't smell great down there. There are at least three thousand mice buried here, and nine out of ten of them are probably this one's relatives. If you're lucky, you might even find its wife and children."

The cat stared back with its yellow eyes, flicked its tail gently, rubbed against Anthony's arm, and then left.

Anthony watched it exit the Room of Requirement and sealed the door with a wave of his wand. Then, holding his breath, he scooted forward and slid down the passage.

It had been years since he'd used a slide, and he'd forgotten how to control his speed. He grabbed at the slippery walls a few times before giving up and letting himself accelerate. The light from the Room of Requirement was completely gone, and he could see nothing. He could only feel himself getting closer and closer to the mouse corpse in the darkness.

....

He slammed into a wall at a relatively flat corner, grabbed the dead rat lying beside him, and shoved it against the wall, using the momentum to continue his slide.

This was actually quite fun.

At first, he mentally gauged which floor he was passing: fifth... fourth... probably second. He felt his cat... then the passage twisted and turned, and he lost all sense of direction.

The further down he went, the damper and slimier the passage became. Anthony, still sliding rapidly, started to wonder which genius had decided to dispose of small animal remains so deep underground.

He could sense passing beneath the dungeons, Snape's potion ingredients glowing like a constellation in his necromantic perception, quickly receding behind him... And his destination, the Hogwarts small animal cemetery, seemed to grow larger as he approached. The glowing center resembled an endless river, with branching paths crisscrossing beside it... It was like falling into the Milky Way...

With a thud, Anthony hit the bottom. The ground was muddy, damp, and sticky.

Leaving the rat carcass for his companions, he stood up. This was a vast, meticulously constructed stone tunnel. Anthony tapped the walls; they were sturdy, as if dwarves had built a bomb shelter. Scattered around were the bones of various small animals – mostly rats and ferrets – extending beyond the reach of his necromantic senses.

Curiosity propelled Anthony forward, seeking the end of this massive tomb. His footsteps echoed in the damp tunnel.

Following the guidance of the corpses, he embarked on a late-night expedition beneath Hogwarts.

Then, his path was blocked by something enormous.

Anthony reached out to touch it. This cold object felt different from the walls. It seemed like an inanimate creature, yet not a corpse... He couldn't sense any potential for control.

His hands were now coated in slime and grime, and he didn't want to risk touching his wand. Anthony simply commanded the nearby army of small animal skeletons, crossed his fingers, and let the soul fire beside him blaze. The entire tunnel was suddenly illuminated... blindingly bright with ghostly flames.

The dead animals, fueled by soul fire, cast light on the object before him. A gigantic snakeskin.

"Okay, I get it," Anthony muttered to the rodent skeleton at his feet. "The Basilisk. Did you really think you could eat all of that?"

Under the eerie glow, he squeezed through the gap between the snakeskin and the wall, continuing his exploration. Now, out of caution, he closed his eyes completely, relying solely on the distribution of corpses to guide him. This was the first time since crawling out of his own grave that he had actively utilized so much necromantic magic while awake.

The rats swarmed around him as he stumbled forward. Occasionally, a skeletal frame would collapse, unable to support itself, and clatter onto the wet tunnel floor.

When there were no more controlled mice within reach, Anthony finally came to a wall. With his eyes closed the entire time, he could only sense a path beyond it, so he gave it a solid bump.

Opening his eyes with a sigh, he once again summoned a group of basilisk food remains, using their soul fire to examine the wall before him. Under the faint ghostly light, he saw two intertwined serpents carved into the stone, their emerald eyes gleaming, reflecting the line of burning rat skeletons staring back.

He figured he'd have to find a way through this wall.

A fleet of spectral ferrets surged forward, clawing at the stone—Anthony always preferred using incorporeal spirits for such demolition work—but they returned empty-pawed. The emeralds in the serpent's eyes shimmered oddly, as if mocking his futile attempt.

Anthony tried spectral rats next. They too failed to leave a mark.

He knew he had one more potentially effective method, but it was a last resort... himself. He could sense that if he fully surrendered to his magic, allowing the instinct of necromancy to take over completely, the entire tunnel would be child's play. Even if this door were protected by powerful enchantments, he could brute-force his way through with sheer, unhinged magical power, digging another tunnel to bypass the door and break through from behind.

But he didn't need to. Even if a basilisk lurked on the other side, and hundreds of (hopefully) sleeping students above, there was no need for him to trigger an earthquake.

Humans were social creatures. Anthony decided to seek help from someone who might be able to assist—for instance, Headmaster Dumbledore.

Then, standing in the tunnel, another crucial question dawned on him.

How was he going to get back?

...

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