My necromancer career begins at Hogwarts

Chapter 89 Neville, You're a Genius

For Maurice, teaching Neville a few spells to deal with Malfoy was not a difficult task.

Why not gain favors while also causing trouble for Malfoy?

So Maurice simply started instructing Neville right there in the courtyard.

According to Neville himself, his talent for spells was extremely poor; even casting a levitation charm on a feather could cause it to explode on the spot.

However, Neville mastered the Fatigue Charm in just twenty minutes.

"Is this what you mean by having poor talent for spells?" Morris asked with some skepticism.

"I...I don't know." Neville stared blankly at the wand in his hand.

Even he himself didn't expect it to go so smoothly.

For some reason, Morris always gave him a special sense of reliability. Under Morris's guidance, he recited the incantation correctly, and his hands stopped trembling.

Naturally, the spell was successfully cast.

“Neville,” Morris looked at him intently, “you might be a genius when it comes to spells.”

My god... a genius!?

These words struck like a thunderbolt, leaving Neville completely stunned.

This was the first time someone had ever called him that.

He stared wide-eyed at Maurice, as if the other was speaking a language he couldn't understand at all.

Realizing what he had done, he quickly waved his hand, "I'm not a genius! I can't even use the Levitation Charm yet!"

"Believe me, you are." Morris smiled.

This silly child.

Neville's mouth practically stretched to the sky when he said it was just a casual compliment.

However, although that's a bit of an exaggeration, the Fatigue Charm is indeed more difficult than the Levitate Charm. Neville was able to master it in just twenty minutes of practice, so his talent is definitely not lacking.

The reason I haven't been able to cast spells consistently before was probably due to a lack of confidence and excessive nervousness.

After all, magic in this world largely depends on the will and beliefs of wizards.

and..

"This wand in your hand, it's not yours, is it?" Maurice suddenly asked.

He sensed a noticeable fluctuation in the flow of magic when Neville used the spell.

Neville nodded, but his eyes were somewhat dim. "My wand was left to me by my father."

Morris asked suspiciously, "I remember you come from a wizarding family, right? Is your family short of money?"

Even a student like him, who came from an orphanage, was using a brand new wand.

This is truly hard to understand.

"No, no!" Neville quickly shook his head. "It's not about the money. My grandma insists that I use my dad's wand... I really like this wand too."

"But this wand doesn't like you," Maurice sighed. "You've been failing at casting spells, and this wand, which isn't suited to you, has a big problem. If you're willing to take my advice, go to Diagon Alley and get a new one."

"But..." Neville instinctively gripped his wand tighter, his expression hesitant.

"Of course, this is just my suggestion. If you insist on using this wand, that's fine too."

Morris changed the subject, intending to give Neville more confidence, and continued, "Forget about the wand for now. Didn't you just successfully cast the Exhaustion Charm? That shows that your talent is enough to overcome some of the obstacles caused by the wand."

"You're a genius, Neville!"

"If you don't believe me, try the Levitation Spell now."

Neville was completely taken aback by Morris.

He took a deep breath, his gaze falling on a branch at his feet, and called out, "Yugadimurleviosa!"

The wand was swung with precise movements and the incantation was clear.

The tree branch left the ground and hung steadily in the air.

Neville stared blankly at the branch, then at his wand, and finally turned to Maurice in disbelief.

Morris shrugged. "See? We did it."

Then he taught Neville the incantation for the Leg Locking Curse.

Although he wasn't very skilled yet, after a few practice sessions, Neville was able to use it quite well.

"I'm leaving now, Neville. Practice these spells more, and you can definitely beat Malfoy. Believe in yourself, you're a genius."

"I'm a genius... hehe... hehehe," after teasing the silly little fat boy, Morris turned and left the courtyard.

He didn't dislike people like Neville; in fact, he quite liked them.

Compared to a bratty kid like Draco Malfoy, Neville is just so much cuter.

In the corridor, Maurice ran into Quirrell, who was walking towards him.

Quirrell, wearing his signature purple headscarf and carrying a book, walked briskly and exchanged a glance with Maurice.

Their eyes met, and Maurice smiled politely.

Quirrell's gaze swept over him without lingering, and he brushed past him and left.

All that remained was a pungent, garlicky smell.

To be honest, Morris always thought this garlic had a very unique flavor. It didn't have the peculiar aroma of regular garlic, and it even had a faint rotten smell.

This is why he was able to immediately confirm Quirrell's identity when they were in Knockout Alley.

At that moment, Maurice suddenly sensed something and took out his Death Compass from his pocket.

The compass needle was pointing steadily in the direction Quirrell had gone.

What... is going on?

Morris narrowed his eyes, and without the slightest hesitation, he gripped the compass in his hand, turned around, and quickened his pace toward Quirrell.

He quickly overtook Quirrell without looking back, and naturally stopped at a corner, pretending to examine the portrait on the wall.

At the same time, the guidelines will be directed at what is behind.

Sure enough, the pointer was pointing precisely at Quirrell, who was approaching.

In other words, Quirrell exudes a very strong aura of death.

Morris was startled.

Could it be that... Professor Quirrell is about to die?

Or perhaps, Quirrell possesses something closely connected to "death".

Morris suddenly realized something.

This is the world of Harry Potter, telling the story of Harry Potter's battle against Voldemort.

A new professor, his presence in Knockout Alley, a series of unusual behaviors, and the direction pointed by the Death Compass.

He absolutely refused to believe that Quirrell was not connected to the main storyline.

Morris glanced at Quirrell again, his conviction growing stronger.

Quirinus Quirrell is very likely connected to Voldemort.

They are very likely Voldemort's followers or subordinates.

But so what?

Morris shrugged indifferently.

He was just a minor, slightly gifted student at Hogwarts; his main task should be to deal with his studies and enjoy school life.

Let the Savior deal with Voldemort.

Maurice would never approach Voldemort without any benefit or advantage.

He put away the compass and turned to walk towards the Potions classroom.

The next class is Snape's Potions, and he doesn't want to be late.