"Oh, I know her," said Mrs. Pince, "the pimple-faced Ravenclaw, the girl who writes bad love poems in the margins of books. Let me see...Warren, Myrtle· Warren, that's her name. I don't remember her middle name."
"Then do you know how she died?" Anthony asked. Might as well give it a try.
Mrs. Pince frowned and thought about it for a while, then shrugged in resignation: "I don't know. This is an old magic school, and accidents will always happen. Maybe she just mispronounced something while practicing the spell and summoned a Welsh Green Dragon. You know, Professor, there are always a few students who are so stupid that you wouldn't believe them."
"It's okay, thank you so much." Anthony said, "All I need is a name."
He had to know Myrtle's last name to quickly filter out information about her. He wanted to find all the reports from that time.
He walked to the archives, took a deep breath after making sure Mrs. Pince was not looking at him, and waved his wand to summon the book containing "Myrtle Warren" - which he had drunk with a few drinks when he still lived in the Leaky Cauldron. Tips for bartering wine from the clerk at Flourish and Blotts.
The last time he tried to summon books and periodicals containing "myrtle", at least thirty heavy rosters, bound volumes of newspapers and periodicals, and academic journals on herbal medicine flew towards him with a sound of breaking through the air. If he hadn't hid in time, what would have been broken was not the vase in the archives but his head.
"A very sophisticated variation of the Flying Curse, Professor." Mrs. Pince said angrily as she rushed over after hearing the cracking sound. "But please don't try this in the Hogwarts library. This is a library with a vast collection of books." Library! There's a reason why we've been banning students from chanting spells on books."
Even though he immediately restored the vase with a Restoration Charm, she left complaining about how unreasonable it was for a professor to be allowed to cast spells in the school library. "Just like a professor won't break precious materials or vases!" she said loudly.
But today Anthony decided to use this spell. The worst possible outcome is to repair the vase again.
He stood apologetically, waiting for the information to answer his call.
This time there were only two.
Perhaps because he hadn't practiced for too long, his spells had become rusty. They no longer flew quickly, but simply fell off the shelf, leaving two muffled sounds and a few puffs of dust on the ground.
"I hope Mrs. Pince doesn't find out." Anthony whispered as he picked up a book.
One corner of the cover was bent, and Anthony's repairing spell didn't work. This thick Daily Prophet collection collects newspapers from 1940 to 1945, while the other is a more than 2,000-page roster containing all students enrolled from 1935 to 1939. The yellowed parchment uses dark green magic ink to record when the student's name appeared in the Book of Admission, which house the Sorting Hat called out, and other tedious information.
Anthony sighed. Whether judging from the timing of the newspaper or the roster, Myrtle's death was long before Professor McGonagall entered the job. If he really wanted to take the express lane, he could only ask the gargoyle at the door of the principal's office to guess the password for him.
He walked to the table with two books in his arms and sat on the chair. In the next few days, he probably has some... quite some work to test his eyesight.
…
Anthony rubbed his eyes and put the roster back on the bookshelf. Until closing time, he had only read more than 300 pages of names. Maybe he should consider another strategy. The option of chatting with a gargoyle has never been so tempting.
The weather is getting colder and the nights are falling earlier and earlier. Except for a hint of golden red in the distance, the entire sky has been shrouded in dark blue night. Students holding textbooks in the corridor are in a hurry, rushing to the auditorium for dinner.
At a glance, Anthony saw three red heads gathered in the corridor, it seemed that Percy was nagging the twins. In the crowd of first-year freshmen, Harry, Ron and Hermione gathered together, muttering not knowing what to say. Neville walked far behind. The child still has not found a friend who is willing to be with him at all times.
"Ah, Professor Anthony." He met Professor McGonagall at the door of the office, "I was just looking for you. The Ministry of Magic just sent a letter, and someone will come to investigate you tomorrow."
"What are you investigating?" The dark green phantom of the list was still flashing in front of Anthony's eyes, and it was difficult to react for a while.
"Trolls." Professor McGonagall said with a stern face and entered the office with him. "They are obviously very dissatisfied with the efficiency of the Hogwarts professors and can't wait to ask you to accept their questioning."
Anthony invited Professor McGonagall to sit down and asked doubtfully: "Is it just me?"
"Considering your background before taking office," Professor McGonagall said cryptically, "and the fact that you did not appear in the Great Hall that day, the Ministry of Magic believes they have enough clues."
Great, the Ministry of Magic is really going to great lengths to get him back to Azkaban.
Anthony didn't believe that the Ministry of Magic would be interested in the troll in the underground classroom. Based on his investigation of Myrtle, they didn't care much about the big cat with yellow eyes in the girls' bathroom. It seems that Dumbledore's strong guarantee angered some people - not that Dumbledore or Anthony cared about it.
"Given my pre-inauguration background, they should have thought I had better options than the troll," Anthony complained, "even more Halloween-themed options. And I'm here all the time on Halloween."
Professor McGonagall nodded seriously and stopped Anthony from pouring tea for her: "I know, Professor Anthony, so I never thought that the troll had anything to do with you."
"Okay, what time tomorrow?" Anthony said, "I was planning to go to the library."
"The Ministry of Magic said nine o'clock in the morning. I personally think that means half past ten." Professor McGonagall said, she was extremely dissatisfied with the Ministry of Magic's involvement in Hogwarts affairs. "I will ask them to limit the duration to less than two hours. , it won't take up too much of your time in the library." She stood up and picked up her wizard hat.
"Okay, thank you for telling me, Professor McGonagall." Anthony walked her to the door.
"You're welcome." Professor McGonagall said, lowering her head and smiling at the cat that jumped over, "It's a very good cat. It has been in the corridor for almost longer than you recently, Professor. Pomona was worried about this. "
"Yes, I went astray before." Anthony admitted frankly, "Now I have realized it."
"That's good, Professor Anthony, that's good." Professor McGonagall said, "I'm sure Albus won't get the wrong person. So, see you at dinner?"
"See you at dinner."