The wind whistled through the corridor, rustling against the armor reflecting the flickering firelight and stretching the elongated shadows cast by the pale moon. A group of portraits whispered amongst themselves, gossiping about a nearby knight who had dozed off against his frame, his horse munching on painted grass in boredom.
Anthony, cloaked in a Disillusionment Charm, crept down the corridor with his cat, trying not to alert any portraits to his missing arm. It wasn't until the cat's claws dug into his shoulder that he tried to lift it higher, only to realize he had left one of his arms back in the office.
Now that the cat was back, its cold body pressed against his neck, its ears brushing his, and its whiskers tickling his hair, Anthony's heart finally settled.
"You scared me," he whispered to the cat, its eyes gleaming in the firelight.
The cat tilted its head, placed its paws on his shoulders, closed its eyes, and rubbed its head vigorously against Anthony's chin, forcing him to crane his neck.
Anthony laughed, despite the awkward position. "Alright, alright."
The cat almost stood up in his arms, continuing to nuzzle him relentlessly. Anthony tried to put it down, but it raked its claws across his arm and stubbornly climbed back up.
Anthony relented, sitting on the floor and cradling the cat.
"I know, I know," he whispered, afraid of attracting the portraits' attention. "Don't be scared, you're back. I'll never use so much necromancy again."
The cat clung to him, burrowing into his arms. Anthony held it close, noticing how its ginger fur seemed to glow with a warm, yellow light in the firelight, almost as if it were transparent and emitting a comforting warmth.
He closed his eyes, rested his forehead on the cat's cool fur, and listened.
In the stillness of the night, he heard the chirp of a bird, briefly awakened, then all was quiet again.
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from above.
Both Anthony and the cat looked up. The Bloody Baron was floating there, his empty eyes fixed on the man and cat concealed by the Disillusionment Charm.
"Bloody Baron?" Anthony asked.
He hadn't interacted much with the Slytherin ghost. Mostly, he'd heard from Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar about how the Bloody Baron had been moping around the corridors lately, venturing into areas not typically frequented by ghosts. Students seemed to prefer running past Peeves, even with bags over their heads, to getting too close to the Bloody Baron's silver-blood-stained robes.
"Magic comes at a price." the Bloody Baron said softly. He floated down with a rattling sound, his gaze falling on Anthony's missing arm, then on the ginger cat, his transparent fingers passing through it. The cat arched its back and puffed up its fur, hissing at the ghost while pressing closer to Anthony.
Anthony wrapped his remaining arm around the cat. "Forgive my ignorance, Mr. Baron, but I don't understand what price you're referring to."
"Necromancy. it's useful, isn't it?" the Bloody Baron whispered.
"If you say so, then I suppose it is," Anthony replied calmly.
"There's no need to pretend, Necromancer," the Bloody Baron said with a raspy laugh, like a thousand cats scratching glass. "That was my notebook."
This caught Anthony completely off guard.
"Excuse me?" he said.
The blood-soaked ghost seemed amused by his reaction. He examined the cat closely and repeated, "The notebook that disappeared from the library was mine. I've been wondering who took it."
Anthony was momentarily speechless. "I apologize, I didn't know its owner was still, well, around. I'll return it to you immediately, Mr. Baron."
"I threw it away," the Baron whispered. "There is only a price, only futility. Why... why..."
Babbling Baron reached out to touch the cat. The heavy chains passed through Anthony's legs, and his hands went straight through Anthony's arms and the cat he was protecting, all the way into his belly. Anthony was surprised to hear so much anger, pain, and jealousy in his dry voice.
"What's wrong?" Anthony stood up holding the cat and looked around, "If you are willing, Mr. Baron, let's go to my office to talk. You can do whatever you want with your notebook."
This was bound to be a sleepless night.
The cat was highly displeased with the presence of the resentful mouse in the room. It haughtily ignored the mouse and directed all its grievances towards Anthony, the one responsible for its predicament.
It ignored the Bloody Baron, who was still floating around the office, and proceeded to tear Anthony's bedroom apart. The mouse tried to hide in the office, but upon seeing the ghost in the air, it quickly retreated to the corner of the bedroom.
Anthony closed the bedroom door with a calm expression and heard a loud crash of breaking porcelain.
"I believe that was a vase," he explained to the Bloody Baron, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and relief.
After he retrieved the notebook, he heard a long tale from the Bloody Baron.
The gaunt ghost told him in a hoarse whisper how he had once been an apprentice necromancer. Born into a noble family, he had studied at Hogwarts while also learning necromancy from a necromancer friend, one of the founders of the school. In fact, he had known the necromancer since he was a baby and had entered Hogwarts under his recommendation.
"My mentor always said I was too volatile," the Bloody Baron whispered. "I struggle to control myself, and necromancy made it even harder."
The necromancer had been hunted by witch-hunters at the time. At Salazar Slytherin's invitation, he moved into Hogwarts, and during his studies, the Baron fell in love and began to obsessively pursue Helena Ravenclaw.
In the Bloody Baron's narrative, everything initially seemed hopeful.
"The tutor was a charming man when he was well," he said. "Always calm, loved his students, and had a good sense of humor. The other professors and I always suspected he was the one who summoned Peeves, but he never admitted it."
Then things took a dark turn. His mentor's health deteriorated, and he grew closer to dark creatures. In his dreams, he would unconsciously wither things around him – something Anthony understood all too well, which was why he didn't keep any living creatures. So they moved underground, and Slytherin relocated the common room to the dungeons for his friend, taking over part of Hufflepuff's storage space.
Finally, one ordinary day, his mentor vanished without a trace.
Then Helena disappeared too. Her mother, on her deathbed, entrusted the Baron to find her. He pursued her relentlessly, eventually finding her in a forest. But she refused to return home and said something the Baron didn't want to recall.
The Baron – the overly violent Baron – stabbed her to death.
He desperately tried to resurrect her, but to no avail. Necromancy failed him time and again, offering nothing but the side effect of uncontrollable emotions. Her beautiful corpse could open its eyes and move under his magic, but it wasn't her, not the Helena who looked down on everything with arrogance, not the Helena whose ambition made his heart race.
In his despair, the Baron abandoned necromancy completely. He gave up on this futile imitation of life and death, and followed Helena into death.