“Have a great day!” Henry Anthony smiled as he sent the customer on their way, then turned to grab the ice cream off the conveyor belt. “Hello! Ah, Kevin, how have you been lately? Two pounds, thank you.”

“Pretty good, Mr. Anthony, just too hot out,” Kevin replied as he handed over the money. “How about you?”

Anthony found the change and said, “I’m doing well too, except that I sometimes pull feathers out of my pockets. Everything else is normal.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kevin said sympathetically. “I heard from my dad that a bunch of owls crashed through your window. But on the bright side, the wild mice in your house should have cleared out.”

“Don’t mention it; the owls probably think my place is a restaurant,” Anthony joked. “Alright, Kevin, take your ice cream and enjoy your summer vacation.”

He watched Kevin bounce out of the supermarket, and the smile on his face faded.

Henry Anthony, a resident of Holly Street in London, worked as a cashier at the corner Wheely supermarket.

Three days ago, a flock of owls invaded his home, making such a racket that he had to hide his pet and seek help from his neighbors. After all, if he tried to handle that chaotic swarm of birds alone, it would definitely raise suspicions. Exhausted from the ordeal, he was just an ordinary unlucky guy, and the neighbors teased him about it. Even the dull local newspaper ran a small piece about the amusing incident.

“Owls Attack Window of Reclusive Man, Possibly Lured by His Pet Guinea Pig.”

He had to urgently repurpose some skeleton parts to disguise as a fluffy, overweight guinea pig lying in its nest to deal with the photographer. The skeleton cat was furious and tore his sofa to shreds.

Perhaps he should get some white wine to apologize to it.

Anthony was still thinking about the white wine when he walked up to his front door and found a strangely dressed man standing there. The man was fully dressed in a shirt and tie along with a suit jacket—even wearing cufflinks—while below he wore a workplace skirt.

Anthony twitched his eye. “I’m not interested. This is my front door, so excuse me…?”

The man glared at Anthony as if he were a dangerous lunatic, his voice tense. “Mr. Henry Anthony, I’m Gilou Ollie from the Magical Law Enforcement Agency, investigating your suspected violation of the Confidentiality Act and your failure to respond to the office’s letters regarding the prohibition of magical abuse. I hope you will cooperate.”

Mr. Ollie pulled out a stick from somewhere and pointed it at Anthony. “Also, due to the unregistered dark magic aura in your residence, an Auror will arrive in three minutes.”

“What letter?” Anthony frowned. Ollie’s actions were too strange; he looked around, fearing they might attract attention, only to find people leisurely going about their business, as if they couldn’t see them. “Wait, I understand. We have an administration for people like us? You brought those owls, didn’t you? What’s the benefit of exposing me to you?”

No matter what he said, the man just shook his head and stared at him. Just then, with a loud bang, several people in black robes appeared at his front door. Two of them pinned Anthony down while the rest broke into his house.

The poor skeleton cat, still in a huff, hunched its back and whimpered at the intruders, only to be torn apart by this group in an instant. The vengeful spirit chicken tried to protect its companion’s remains but was also dispersed by the blue light shot from the stick.

“What are you doing!” At this point, he no longer cared about the neighbors. He broke free from the person next to him and pointed inside the house. “Good kitty, come here!”

Like a whirlwind, scattered bones flew up from every corner and landed in Anthony’s arms, clattering against one another.

Anthony waved his hand to summon the spare skeleton to block the incoming red beams, looking down at the scratches and cracks on his pet’s bones.

This cat, usually spoiled and carefree, rolling on the ground and chasing toys, would throw a fit and wreck the place if anything went wrong. Now, however, it curled up in his arms, too weak to hold a shape, almost dissipating.

That already-dispersed vengeful spirit chicken had awakened Anthony from nightmares every morning, bringing him back to a beautiful and peaceful life.

But now it felt like a new nightmare. The bones of the cat trembled in his embrace.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.” Anthony held them tightly, looking at the group in black robes. “Who are you? What’s your purpose? Is there some misunderstanding?”

He realized that this group feared and resented him. They acted as if he might randomly blow someone up, and they were ready to perish with him.

It was ridiculous. But it wasn’t incomprehensible—sometimes he feared himself too.

“You don’t need to be afraid either,” he tried to soothe them. “Whatever you’re afraid of, I have no intention of attacking you. I’m just a law-abiding little employee.”

One of the black-robed men sneered, “Maintain the counter-curse! Don’t listen to the dark wizard’s nonsense! Stay alert, don’t let him escape!”

“This… sir,” Anthony said helplessly, “If I wanted to run, I would have done so before you arrived. Mr. Ollie warned me in advance that a group was on the way. I just didn’t expect you to be so unreasonable.”

The man spat on the ground, muttering in disgust, “The necromancer; the department should have approved the emergency death curse long ago.” He suddenly leaned close to Anthony, pressing the stick against the back of Anthony’s neck. “I warn you not to pull any tricks, or I’ll put a death curse on you, even if it means I’ll be severely punished and half-disabled. Search him!”

Another person quietly chanted something, and all the objects on Anthony’s body flew out. His wallet was searched several times, and the one searching him frowned and shook his head, pressing the stick harder against him.

“Where’s your wand? Tell me its location, and don’t move your hands.”

Anthony knew they were looking for his wand. He sighed, “If I say I don’t have one, you certainly won’t believe me. How about this: I’ll show you a magic trick.”

His gaze fell on the flowerbed beside the house. In midsummer, the sun sets late, and the clover had not yet closed. It swayed gently in the breeze, revealing a swarm of vengeful spirit butterflies that sparkled in the sunset. The butterflies flew around the black-robed men a couple of times before dissipating into the twilight.

Anthony gently watched them scatter. “How should I put it? I don’t need a wand,” he explained while holding his cat. “But I truly have no aggression. Just take me through whatever process you want to go through, and let’s clear up this misunderstanding.”

…

Around eleven o'clock at night, the sky darkened, and a crescent moon hung far over the sea.

Anthony had a regular routine, and he was already tired. He yawned and listlessly watched the black waves beside him. Thick fog enveloped the ship, and he had no idea how long this journey would last.

The person accompanying him—who Anthony now knew was called an Auror—silently leaned against the side of the boat, holding their wand to steer. When the tip of the wand lit up with a light yellow glow, the fog suddenly cleared, revealing a solitary island appearing in the middle of the turbulent sea.

If it hadn’t been in such a chaotic situation, Anthony would have felt curious and amazed by this. This was his first encounter with this magical world. When he first discovered his strange abilities, he was filled with distant hopes, imagining there were others like him, fantasizing that wondrous scenes would unfold before his eyes, and that fairy hunters would knock on his door asking for a drink, like in those fairy tales. But he was a realistic person; after moving, he quickly found stable housing, got a job, and made friendly neighbors and familiar customers, so he no longer needed such fanciful dreams. He hoarded his favorite things in his home like a hamster storing winter food. He even had his own cat.

And now this late-arriving world suddenly barged in. He no longer needed it. He just wanted to find someone to communicate with, resolve all this, and then go home for a nice bath, ready to go to work on time the next day.

He didn’t wait for the reasonable person he wanted to see.

He was taken to a place called the Ministry of Magic, where he went through a few brief questions (Henry Anthony. I don’t know what the owls were for; they might have been chased away by my pet. Yes, that’s my pet. Yes, I can summon vengeful spirits; do you need a demonstration?), signed a document confirming the facts, then boarded a ship to a place called Azkaban.

When the staff at Azkaban—probably—saw Anthony being escorted in, they lazily walked out from the duty room. “What’s going on?”

The Auror accompanying Anthony whispered, “Dark wizard, seems a bit out of his mind… not the same kind of problem as before.”

The staff member looked Anthony up and down and pointed at him, asking, “Is it a problem like hugging bones like a teddy bear?”

The Auror was taken aback. Anthony had been so cooperative that everyone forgot the other party was still holding their spellcasting materials.

“Put it down,” the Auror said to Anthony. “You can’t bring dark magic items into Azkaban. It’s ridiculous that no one thought to destroy them.”

Anthony shook his head. “There are bones everywhere; what’s the harm in a few more cats and dogs?”

The staff member added, “Let him hug it if he wants; there are plenty of Dementors on the dark wizard side.”

The Auror pointed at Anthony and whispered to the staff member, “He’s said to be a necromancer.”

“Isn’t that extinct?” the staff member asked in surprise, then seemed to find it a bit awkward.

Anthony’s earlier words reminded them. Azkaban was the graveyard for countless dark wizards, a veritable arsenal of necromancers. Yet, the necromancers had been extinct for many years, and the death curses used in the past had been abolished. The Dementor's kiss had become the strongest means, and now all captured dark wizards were sent to Azkaban.

“I’ll help you file a report; you take the bones to the innermost cell for now,” the staff member decided to stabilize the necromancer first. “You quickly go back and ask the director what to do. Uh, you few, gather all the Dementors available to guard his cell. Goodness, we’ve sent a match into a fireworks store.”

“Great, thank you,” Anthony smiled at the staff member.

“Seriously creepy,” the staff member said, watching Anthony walk toward the depths of Azkaban, complaining to the Auror, “He acts like I just passed him a jar of jam at the dinner table. I almost said ‘you’re welcome’ to him.”

“Don’t be deceived by appearances; that’s a necromancer, the dark wizard of dark wizards,” the Auror shook his head. “The craziest of the crazies. The Dementors will treat him well.”