My necromancer career begins at Hogwarts

Chapter 110 Harry, what are you doing here?

After several days of testing, Morris had a general understanding of the canned goods.

The final conclusion left him somewhat incredulous, even finding it absurd.

That was a magical upheaval.

Indeed, Morris attributed the occasional magic that the canned food could use to magical outbursts.

Of course, it's different from the magical outbursts of a wizard, since the two are different species.

They are only very similar in their form of expression.

In other words, canned food now possesses a kind of wizarding magic.

A magical cat?

This is quite unexpected, but even so, it doesn't mean much to canned goods.

If young wizards can go to Hogwarts to study, what about cats?

There are no magic schools in this world specifically for cats.

On a whim, Morris bought a second-hand wand for his cat at a shop in Knockturn Alley.

The canned creature, holding a wand, can't do much beyond occasionally shooting out a few useless beams of light.

Morris wanted to teach Canned Food how to use spells, but he really didn't know how to say "Flicker" in cat language.

In the end, he had to give up the idea of ​​teaching the canned food magic.

As August arrived, Morris began trying to find a way to buy dragon blood in Knockturn Alley.

He visited several stores, but all he found were either counterfeit goods or ridiculously expensive items.

"I suggest you check out Borginborough's," Frick offered a sound suggestion. "The owner there, well... at least the items are generally safe. Besides, the Ministry of Magic has been keeping a close eye on things lately, and many people are dealing with their contraband. Dragon blood, while not a serious offense, has been affected, so the price might be a bit lower recently."

So, on Frick's advice, Morris went to the Borginbock store on a Wednesday in mid-August.

This shop is easy to find; it's the most famous and largest shop in Fandao Lane.

According to Frick, it was an antique shop, but the owner also had a lot of shady business in order to make money.

As soon as Morris walked in, he discovered that what was displayed on the shelves were not antiques at all, but rather miscellaneous items such as human hands, eyeballs, spiked collars, and whips.

Yeah, this is very much like Knockout Alley.

A hunchbacked old man emerged from behind the counter like a ghost; he was the owner of the shop.

"Hello, Mr. Borgin," Morris stared at the man's greasy hair for a moment, "I need to buy some things."

Bokin was also sizing up Maurice, and he said strangely, "Sir...could you take off your helmet?"

He noticed that the short guest in front of him was wearing a strange white helmet and had a rather childish voice.

"Oh, no," Morris said, "but I did come to buy something. Do you have dragon blood?"

He had been wearing a mask for a long time lately, so on a whim today he switched to a helmet.

"Fire Dragon Blood?"

Bokin glanced at Maurice again, unsure whether he should kick him out—he rarely had such a poor grasp of a guest.

"Frick introduced me," Morris added at the opportune moment, his tone calm.

"You should have said so sooner," Bokin said, his expression becoming more serious. "Wait for me."

He turned and disappeared behind a door, emerging with two metal buckets in his hands.

"We haven't had time to repackage them yet," Bojin patted the lid of one of the buckets. "The one on the left is Australian egg white, and the one on the right is Welsh green dragon. I guarantee they are all pure products, without any water added."

Morris stepped forward, opened the lid of the bucket to check, and then simply said, "I want a little of everything."

Bokin immediately broke into a bright smile. "Then let's discuss the price."

In the end, Maurice spent almost half of his savings.

The price of Fire Dragon Blood is indeed outrageously expensive, but fortunately, the price offered by Bojin is still within a reasonable range.

After he paid, Bojin personally helped him divide the dragon blood into twenty small portions.

Morris was worried that the other party might tamper with the bottles, so he began to carefully examine each one on the spot.

During this time, more guests came in.

As Maurice examined the seventeenth vial of dragon blood, he glanced casually at the side.

Standing in front of the counter was none other than Draco Malfoy, an acquaintance from Hogwarts, and another arrogant middle-aged wizard, presumably his father.

Old Malfoy was whispering something to Borgin, seemingly haggling over a price, while Draco wandered around the shop curiously, examining the strange items on the shelves.

Morris withdrew his gaze and continued examining the dragon blood in his hand.

He's wearing a helmet now, so Draco would never recognize him.

Meanwhile, inside a black cabinet to the right of the door, Harry was peering intently through a narrow gap, holding his breath.

While using FiluNet, he choked on some cigarette ash and unexpectedly ended up in this strange place.

In a panic, he hid in the nearest empty cabinet.

Fortunately, no one noticed his presence.

Harry certainly saw both Malfoys, but at that moment, the black-robed man with the strange white helmet, who was intently fiddling with a bunch of bottles, was more likely to capture his attention.

He recognized that helmet very well.

If he remembered correctly, at the end of last semester, a fully armed man wearing a similar helmet and riding a skeletal horse rescued Quirrell. And the one who knocked Quirrell away in the Forbidden Forest was probably the same person...

Unfortunately, his memory of that figure was very vague, and he couldn't even determine its size.

The man in black robes in front of him was short, only about a head taller than him, and probably not even an adult.

Is it right?

Just as he was pondering this, the Malfoys left the store, and immediately afterward, the man in the white helmet and black robes deftly picked up his suitcase and pushed open the door to leave.

Harry adjusted his broken glasses and immediately decided to follow.

But when he stepped outside, he found himself in a completely unfamiliar alley.

Malfoy and the mysterious man had long since disappeared.

Only a small wooden street sign by the roadside tells him that this is Flip-Down Alley.

Harry began to tense up, because the surrounding environment was worse than he had imagined. The streets were filthy, the buildings were crooked, and the few passersby stared at him with cold eyes.

This is not a place for him to stay.

"Are you lost, darling?"

A hoarse voice suddenly rang out, startling him.

Harry turned his head and saw that the person who spoke to him was an old witch, holding a stack of fingernails and grinning at him.

What to do!?

Harry broke out in a cold sweat.

"ah!!!"

Suddenly, without any warning, the old witch let out a painful howl, her face contorted in agony, and collapsed to the ground, convulsing, her fingernails scattering everywhere.

Harry was completely stunned, frozen in place, at a loss for what to do.

He didn't do anything.

The passersby all seemed indifferent, merely staring coldly at the old witch on the ground.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

A familiar voice came from behind him.

Harry turned his head sharply and saw that it was the same person wearing the white helmet from before.

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