My necromancer career begins at Hogwarts

the next morning.

Normally, mornings are the children's free time at the orphanage.

However, since the progress of cleaning the yard yesterday was almost zero, they were once again asked to gather in the yard and continue this frustrating work.

Morris remained largely unconcerned about this.

He always finds a chance to slack off.

He can also tease his ghost cat from time to time.

The canned food for the dead is almost no different from that of a regular cat, its only advantage being that it is faster.

This allows it to successfully escape from attacks by groups of stray cats every time.

As for why it was targeted by the stray cat community.

There's nothing I can do, the kid's a bit naughty.

Morris had come to understand the nature of his foolish cat perfectly.

This guy always tries to bother any stray cats or other stray animals he sees outside.

Including but not limited to: stealing food, pulling tails, pushing the sleeping leader of stray cats into puddles...

Yeah, serves him right.

"Mr. Blake."

A sudden voice interrupted Maurice's thoughts.

He turned his head and found a strange middle-aged man in the yard.

Morris was certain it was calling him, because if he remembered correctly, he was the only person here with the surname Black.

However, he did not recognize the man in front of him.

and many more!

Morris squinted and examined it carefully for a few seconds.

He was a typical middle-aged, overweight man, with a bloated figure and a sparse head. The only remaining few greasy strands of hair were carefully combed, in an attempt to cover up that bald patch.

Hair loss is always the saddest thing for middle-aged men.

Fortunately, Morris doesn't have this problem yet.

"Mr. Blake," the man called again, "please come here for a moment."

"Yes, Mr. Green," Morris replied immediately, jogging quickly to the man.

He had already recognized the man's identity.

The person in charge of this children's home is Harold Green.

Although he was in charge, Morris remembered that the last time they met was last Christmas.

Fortunately, he still remembered the slightly old-fashioned name, so he didn't mispronounce it.

"Is there something you need, Mr. Green?" Morris asked obediently, while his mind was quickly calculating why the person in charge had suddenly come to him.

He doesn't seem to have made any major mistakes recently that would alarm management.

Or rather, he never intentionally made a mistake.

Harold sized Maurice up and down with his small, sunken eyes, then asked, "If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Black, you're starting high school this year. Which high school?"

"Northwood Comprehensive School, sir," Morris replied.

Sure enough, it was about school.

As an orphan, since he received an acceptance letter from Hogwarts, there must be Hogwarts professors to handle the admission process.

Clearly, the person in charge here has received the relevant information.

However, since nothing was certain yet, Morris chose the safest approach to answer.

Harold nodded slightly upon hearing this, but then a hint of unease flashed in his eyes.

"Well..." He paused, then said, "Do you have any other ideas? An administrator from another school asked me if you would be willing to study at their school."

Which school is it?

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Harold replied, his expression somewhat subtle.

......

Morris was led to the reception room by the person in charge.

The day had finally arrived, and he couldn't help but feel excited.

As soon as he stepped into the reception room, he saw an oddly dressed old woman standing by the wall, seemingly examining a cheap landscape print on the wall.

They are from Hogwarts.

Morris made his judgment almost immediately.

Harold led him to the old lady.

Only then could he carefully observe the person in front of him. She was a woman who looked no younger than herself, yet was remarkably energetic. Her hair was neatly tied into a tight bun at the back of her head, and she was wearing a dark robe.

"This is Professor McGonagall," Harold introduced, looking relieved after completing his task.

Professor McGonagall nodded slightly, her sharp gaze landing on Morris.

Surprisingly, Maurice did not feel uncomfortable under such gazes.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, Vice Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Professor McGonagall's voice was steady. "Hello, Mr. Black."

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Maurice greeted politely. "I've already seen your name in the letter."

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched slightly, revealing a perfectly timed smile. "Then you must have read that letter and already know something about Hogwarts."

"Yes, but all I know is that it's a school called Hogwarts." Morris nodded.

"Very good." Professor McGonagall nodded, seemingly satisfied with Morris's answer.

She succinctly concluded, "In short, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a place that teaches young wizards how to use magic correctly. According to our records, you are eleven years old and have demonstrated magical talent, thus qualifying for admission."

Next, Professor McGonagall gave a brief introduction to the basics of Hogwarts and the necessity for young wizards to learn magic.

Would you like to attend Hogwarts?

"Of course, Professor."

Morris naturally had no reason to refuse.

Meanwhile, Harold, standing to the side, was in a state of confusion.

Although he had learned of the existence of magic from the mysterious woman in front of him beforehand and had already confirmed it, hearing the words "use magic" uttered by such a serious and upright old woman still felt somewhat absurd to him.

Damn it, did he damage his brain from taking drugs last night?

No, he didn't take any drugs last night.

"Mr. Green?"

When Harold came to his senses, he realized that the two men had been staring at him the whole time.

"W-what's wrong?" he stammered, unconsciously wiping his forehead.

Professor McGonagall's expression turned serious, and her voice became clear. "Mr. Green, now that Mr. Black has agreed to enroll, I need to ask you some basic questions about his situation here. This will help us better arrange things after he enrolls."

Perhaps noticing Harold's slight tension, she added, "Of course, it's mainly about everyday habits and behaviors; you don't need to be nervous."

Harold forced a smile. "Please ask, ma'am."

Don't be nervous, you say it so casually.

Anyone who sees an old lady who can turn a chair into a pig and then turn it back without batting an eye would find it hard to remain calm.

Perhaps if his attitude had been any worse, he would have ended up like that chair.

His scientific worldview, built up over decades, is on the verge of collapse.