My necromancer career begins at Hogwarts

In the afternoon, Professor McGonagall dropped Maurice off at the orphanage gate and then left in a hurry—she had heard that she still had a lot of work to do.

Morris has bought everything except the pet.

Hogwarts allows students to bring pets such as owls, cats, or toads.

But Morris already had canned goods, so there was no need to spend any extra money.

So it seems that canned food does have some use.

At least it saved him some money.

When Maurice entered the house pulling the suitcase given to him by the grocery store, he found Harold pacing back and forth in the drawing room.

He looked anxious and uneasy.

"Mr. Green?" Morris greeted him politely.

Harold looked up, glanced behind Maurice, and asked nervously, "Where's Professor McGonagall?"

"They've already left," Morris replied.

Harold finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Morris pulled his suitcase to the sofa, intending to rest for a while.

He had been dragging these things all the way down Diagon Alley.

Although the suitcase, which had been enchanted, wasn't heavy, he was only eleven years old and didn't like sports, so his physical condition naturally wasn't very good.

Harold looked at Maurice's suitcase and asked curiously, "What's inside?"

"Things for school," Morris said casually, sitting down on the sofa. "I bought them in Diagon Alley—books, clothes, and some odds and ends."

"May I take a look?"

Harold moved closer out of curiosity, and Morris could smell the tobacco on him.

"Yes, that's fine." Morris hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, remembering that the other person was, in a sense, his guardian.

He pressed the brass buckle on the side of the box, and the lid popped open.

Harold leaned down to look.

Inside the box were several black robes, a stack of books, and various strange objects, all neatly arranged.

The most eye-catching item is the magic wand at the very top, with mysterious patterns on its dark wood.

He remembered that Professor McGonagall had used a similar small wooden stick to perform magic.

"These are all..." Harold's voice was a little hoarse, "...magical items?"

"Probably," Morris replied calmly. "They were all required by Hogwarts. I don't know what they're for."

Harold reached out to touch the wand, but stopped in mid-air.

Wait a minute! Shouldn't we avoid touching these wizarding items?

Morris couldn't help but find the man's curious yet fearful expression somewhat amusing.

"You may pick it up and take a look, Mr. Grimm. This is my wand," he said. "But please be careful."

Harold then carefully picked up the wand.

The wand was lighter than he had expected.

He held the wand up to his eyes and examined it closely. "Can it really cast spells?"

"It requires a suitable wizard to cast this spell," Morris cautioned. "For an ordinary person, it's no different from a regular wooden stick."

Harold clearly knew he was just one of the ordinary people.

He handed the wand back to Maurice, rubbed his hands together, and lowered his voice, saying, "Well then, Mr. Black, could you cast a spell? Just a tiny one, so I can see it for myself?"

"I'm not sure if I can succeed," Morris said honestly. "After all, I haven't started school yet."

"But I can try. Please don't move, Mr. Green."

Upon hearing this, Harold immediately stiffened, even holding his breath.

He stared intently at the wand in Maurice's hand.

However, Maurice simply switched the wand to his left hand and extended his right hand, palm open, towards him.

In fact, Maurice doesn't know how to use a wand at all; the only magic he knows right now is the Curse of Weakening.

Using the Curse of Weakness requires no special tools.

Mr. Green was fortunate enough to become his first experimental subject.

He had tried hundreds of times to make it in the air, and only succeeded once.

But for some reason, his mind was unusually clear this time.

The construction of the spell model also went exceptionally smoothly.

This time, we will succeed!

"Cough cough..." Harold couldn't help but cough, "Are you going to cast a spell on me?"

"The Curse of Weakness!"

Before he could finish speaking, obscure incantations flowed from Maurice's mouth.

An almost invisible layer of gray mist appeared on Morris's right palm.

Before Harold could even react, he felt a chill run down his spine.

His legs suddenly gave way and he collapsed onto the sofa behind him.

"What is this...?" Harold tried to get up, but found that even raising his arm had become extremely difficult.

He looked at Maurice in horror. "What did you do to me?!"

"How are you feeling?" Morris carefully observed Harold's condition and explained, "This magic makes you feel tired and weak."

Harold then realized that he must have been under a spell.

After carefully examining his body, he felt a little relieved.

As Morris said, he was just tired.

It's like feeling completely drained after a night of revelry.

Is this magic?

It is indeed a force that science cannot explain.

"But I noticed you didn't use a wand..." Harold sighed. "Oh, never mind, just help me dispel this spell, I can't stand up."

"..."

silence.

"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and help me recover!" Harold urged, with a bad feeling.

Morris scratched the back of his head awkwardly, a look of embarrassment appearing on his face for the first time. "Well... actually, I haven't learned how to undo this spell yet..."

"%￥#&%!"

......

Thirty minutes later, Harold finally felt his strength gradually returning.

"I'm sorry," Morris said very sincerely.

"Are you sure this won't leave any lasting effects?" Harold asked, still shaken as he moved his stiff limbs.

"I'm sure!"

—Well, he wasn't sure.

However, it would be better to give a reassuring answer for now.

Having received confirmation, Harold felt slightly relieved, but still sighed, "Maurice, can magic do anything else?"

"certainly."

"For example?"

Morris thought for a moment and replied, "You should have seen it with Professor McGonagall. Turning one thing into another, or suddenly appearing a hundred miles away, these things can all be done with magic."

A flicker of longing crossed Harold's eyes as he hesitantly asked, "Then, can I learn magic?"

"Uh, probably not," Morris said truthfully. "Professor McGonagall said that magical abilities are usually innate."

This answer left Harold looking somewhat disappointed.

"Then let's change the subject," he waved his hand and said, "Where did you and Professor McGonagall go just now?"

"There's a place called Diagon Alley, where there are many wizards."

"Can I go?" Harold's voice was filled with undisguised curiosity.

Morris initially wanted to say no, but upon reflection, he realized that if the man led the way, they might actually be able to get in.

It seems that Harold is quite interested in wizards.

That makes things easier, Morris thought.

"I can show you," he said with a slight smile, "but on one condition."

"What is it?" Harold asked, somewhat surprised.

I want pocket money.

"What a clever little devil," Harold laughed.

It's not bad, though.

"Then we'll set off tomorrow morning," he nodded with satisfaction. "I'll drive here."