My necromancer career begins at Hogwarts

"very good."

Morris hugged his owl with satisfaction.

Like the undead cat, its body has a cold feel to it.

"Coo-coo-"

But unlike the docile undead cat, this owl seemed unwilling to be held by Maurice, and struggled violently in his arms.

"Don't move."

Morris gave the command in a low voice, while holding the struggling owl even tighter in his arms.

You know what, it's actually quite comfortable to hold such a cool little thing in the middle of summer.

After receiving Morris's order, the owl reluctantly quieted down, but a low gurgling sound still emanated from deep within its throat.

He was clearly expressing his protest.

However, the protests were ineffective.

Morris changed his position and continued to hold his owl.

Finally, the owl couldn't take it anymore.

Its jet-black body suddenly disintegrated, turning into a black shadow that instantly merged into the shadow at Morris's feet, disappearing without a trace.

Suddenly, his arms were empty, leaving only a faint, chilling aura.

Morris was taken aback at first, then looked down at the ordinary-looking shadow at his feet and said excitedly, "This is your ability?"

He tentatively gave the shadow the command: "Come out."

A ripple appeared in the shadow beneath my feet, but the owl did not appear; only a very faint, resistant purr was heard.

Morris raised an eyebrow, not angry at all, but instead smiled.

"You've got personality. Fine, whatever."

"Hmm... In that case, let's give you a name first."

"Let me think..."

Morris suddenly noticed the completely damp fireworks sitting in the corner.

"Let's call you Fireworks."

As soon as he finished speaking, the shadow beneath his feet began to boil violently, its blackness surging upwards and quickly coalescing into its true form.

Fireworks' eyes, burning with eerie blue flames, were now wide open, filled with protest.

"Gurgle—!!!"

Unfortunately, the protests were ineffective.

And so, the name of the fireworks was decided arbitrarily.

Perhaps because his own blood had been mixed into the magic circle, Morris was able to sense the fireworks' emotions to some extent.

Although the fireworks seemed to be very resistant to Maurice.

However, that deep-seated sense of intimacy cannot be hidden.

Simply put, it's being arrogant and tsundere.

Thinking of this, Maurice picked up the fireworks and rubbed them a few more times.

The firework emitted a short, almost indignant cry, as if even its feathers were about to explode.

It almost immediately gave up struggling, its body once again disintegrating into shadow, quickly seeping into his shadow, disappearing even more swiftly and cleanly than before.

Morris couldn't help but smile.

This is really an interesting child.

......

After a morning of testing, Morris figured out the rules of the fireworks ability.

It is known that the Undead Owl Fireworks can only attach to the shadow created by Maurice himself and cannot enter the shadow of any other object.

Moreover, fireworks can only enter and exit when they have a shadow.

Once in a completely dark environment where all light is blocked, the "door" for entering and exiting the shadows will be closed in both directions.

If the fireworks are already inside the shadow, they will remain trapped inside.

This ability is very convenient, allowing Maurice to carry fireworks with him at any time.

Moreover, based on the emotions conveyed by the fireworks, resting in the shadows is actually an extremely comfortable thing.

Therefore, during normal times, Maurice decided to keep the fireworks in his shadow.

Who knows when they might be able to help me?

At lunchtime, dessert appeared on the children's home table today—a small piece of chocolate cake for each person, something that hadn't been seen in a long time.

A sinful mixture of sugar and oil.

But Morris didn't dislike it; in fact, he liked it.

This sweet taste was just to his liking.

Scott carefully poked at the edge of the cake with his fork, looked up at the caregiver beside him, and casually asked, "Is today some special day? There's a cake."

The caregiver paused, her face equally puzzled. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure either. It's all prepared by the kitchen."

It's probably because of Harold, Morris thought.

Although he had no evidence.

Harold was quite interested in his undead owl, and he had promised to show it to him.

It would be better to fulfill this agreement as soon as possible.

After lunch, Maurice went to the drawing room and found a black telephone.

It's probably been a long time since anyone used it, as a thin layer of dust has settled on it.

After entering the number Harold had given him, a long busy tone came through the receiver.

"...That's really slow."

Just when he thought no one would answer the phone.

"Hello?" A sweet, clear voice suddenly rang out.

Morris was stunned, wondering if he had dialed the wrong number.

"Is anyone listening?" The girl's voice was light and cheerful, typical of a child.

"I'm looking for Mr. Green," Morris said cautiously.

"Daddy's busy," the girl said obediently.

It seemed that Harold had given Maurice his home phone number, which surprised him slightly.

"Could you please have Mr. Green answer the phone?" he asked in a softer voice.

"Please wait a moment."

Light footsteps came from the other end of the receiver and gradually faded away.

Then came a series of indistinct conversations. Although the exact content was unclear, one of the people in the conversation was identified as Harold himself.

"Hello?" Harold's voice finally came through the phone.

"I'm Maurice, Mr. Green," Maurice explained quickly. "The matter concerning the owl has been resolved. Would you like to come and see?"

"I'm coming right away," Harold replied immediately, his tone revealing obvious urgency.

......

About an hour later, Maurice saw Harold at the children's house.

"Where's your owl?" Harold asked as soon as he saw him.

"In the yard."

Morris spoke as he walked into the yard.

At this time, the courtyard was deserted.

He didn't want to reveal the fireworks' special abilities, so he didn't let the fireworks stay in his shadow.

Morris led Harold through the corridor.

"So, you cured that bird's illness?" Harold asked with concern.

"No." Maurice stopped at the gate of the yard, calmly shaking his head. "It was dead, but I brought it back to life."

Standing in the yard, Maurice whistled.

A dark figure leaped down from the roof and landed steadily on Morris's raised arm.

Harold recognized it; it was the same listless owl from yesterday.

But now it's much more energetic, even a bit too much so; its eyes are practically burning with energy...

wrong!

My eyes are really burning!

Harold could clearly see the eerie blue flames flickering in the owl's eye sockets.

He stared blankly, his throat dry. "This is... what you meant by bringing it back to life?"

“It’s an undead creature. You can touch it,” Morris said, extending his arm forward. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

The firework sat quietly on Morris's forearm, bearing almost no weight—that's part of its nature.