My necromancer career begins at Hogwarts

When Maurice stepped out of Gringotts, he was carrying a heavy little cloth bag.

"The service from those fairies was absolutely terrible," Harold couldn't help but complain. "And why use scales to determine the value of paper money?"

Just now, the goblin placed his ten fifty-pound notes and a bag of gold coins on opposite sides of the scales, and the scales remained perfectly balanced.

That must be due to magic.

Morris hefted the money pouch; the gold coins clinked together with a pleasant sound. "At least they did give us the Galleons in return."

"Is this real gold?" Harold asked.

"I guess not," Morris shook his head. "Now we should go shopping. What would you like to buy as a souvenir?"

"Is that alright?" Harold asked, slightly surprised.

"Hmm," Morris said casually, "After all, it's your money."

If you accept a gift from someone, you must pay the corresponding price.

"Where should we go first?" Harold asked.

He knew nothing about this place and could only rely on the eleven-year-old boy in front of him.

Looking at the crowds coming and going around him, he always felt like a lamb that had strayed into a pack of wolves.

Morris thought for a moment and said, "Come with me."

In fact, he had only one main purpose for revisiting Diagon Alley.

That was the skeleton he saw in the secondhand robe shop yesterday.

For some reason, he was particularly concerned about that skeleton, and it kept lingering in his mind.

If possible, he hopes to buy that thing.

That's why he brought Harold along; after all, it's really inappropriate for an ordinary eleven-year-old to buy that kind of thing.

Morris led Harold to the door of the drab secondhand robe shop.

Looking at the dilapidated shop, Harold stopped in his tracks, puzzled. "I remember you bought the robe yesterday."

"Don't speak," Maurice said in a low voice, tugging at his sleeve. "Just come in with me... and then, remember to stick to the plan."

"etc!"

Harold looked bewildered.

plan?

Do they have any plans?

How could he not know?

Before he could even ask a question, Maurice had already pulled him into the store.

Maurice led Harold straight to the corner where the skeleton had been placed, but strangely, the skeleton had disappeared and been replaced by a proper wooden dummy.

Moreover, the wooden dummy has been draped in a robe.

"Do you need any help, sir?" the shop owner asked as she approached. It was the same elderly woman with glasses from yesterday.

She scrutinized Maurice closely, then suddenly realized, "Oh, you're that child from yesterday... Are you dissatisfied with our goods?"

“No, the robe suits you well.” Maurice shook his head. “Excuse me, where is the skeleton that was placed here yesterday?”

"skeleton?"

The shopkeeper paused, seemingly surprised that Maurice would ask that. "Ah, those are my son's things. He likes to tinker with these random things, and sometimes he brings them to the shop to display. I told him to take them back yesterday—what, are you interested in that?"

She pushed up her glasses, looked at Maurice with a strange expression, and added, "That's not some toy."

Morris immediately gave a shy smile and playfully nudged Harold's shin. "Actually, it's my uncle who's interested. He's always liked these kinds of special things."

Harold didn't react for a moment, but after Morris reminded him, he quickly straightened his back, cleared his throat, and said, "Ah, yes, I'm very interested."

The shopkeeper looked at Harold's sharp suit with a hint of disbelief, then glanced at Maurice. "It's quite surprising that a Muggle would be interested in this..."

“We’re not Muggles,” Maurice replied without batting an eye. “We just admire their style of dress.”

"That's really terrible taste." The shopkeeper glanced at Harold again and said, "Alright, if you're here for the skeleton, contact my son. I can give you his address."

Harold immediately bowed slightly. "Thank you so much, madam."

"It's no big deal. My son would be happy if he knew I introduced him to clients, but..."

As the shop owner rambled on, he took a yellowed piece of paper from a drawer and quickly wrote down an address with a quill pen.

Harold took the note, glanced at it, and handed it to Maurice.

"Ezra Frick, basement of 21 Knockdown Lane."

That's all there is on the paper.

Morris had heard about Knockdown Alley from Professor McGonagall.

It is a side alley next to Diagon Alley.

If Diagon Alley is a bustling and vibrant commercial pedestrian street, then Turndown Lane is a dark, dirty, and illegal area.

They specialize in trading things that are not suitable for the market.

Simply put, it's the black market.

"That's not a good place, is it?" The shop owner suddenly looked worried. "I don't know why he chose to open a shop in a place like that..."

Listening to her rambling, Maurice said earnestly, "We will visit, please don't worry."

"Tell him for me to remember to eat on time."

......

Standing once again on the bustling street, Harold asked, "Are we going to this place called 'Knockdown Alley' next?"

"I don't want to die yet," Maurice replied curtly.

He certainly wouldn't rashly lead Harold into Knockout Alley.

A Muggle and a young wizard who has never been to school—this combination doesn't seem very reliable at all.

Although Morris didn't know exactly how dangerous Knockturn Alley was, it never hurts to be careful.

Besides, we already have Ezra Flick's contact information, so there's no rush.

Harold was stunned for a moment after hearing Maurice's words.

"Is that a very dangerous place?" he asked in a low voice.

"A battle between wizards could break out there at any moment," Maurice deliberately tried to scare him. "Strangers who barge in are easy targets."

A wizard's battle?

Harold was somewhat incredulous. "So, where do we go next?"

Morris looked at the pet store not far away and said, "I'm going to buy an owl."

"An owl?" Harold seemed surprised. "Why do you suddenly want to keep a bird?"

"It's just for sending letters," Morris replied.

Although he already had canned food, upon closer inspection, the owl was still necessary.

Now that you have a sufficient budget, it's best to buy one.

"Wizards use owls to send letters?" Harold seemed skeptical. "That's very strange."

As they spoke, the two were already standing at the entrance of the pet store.

Through the shop window, you can see all kinds of owls standing quietly on their perches, occasionally turning their heads to look at the guests who are coming.

Morris pushed open the door, the doorbell rang crisply, and a faint scent of feathers and hay wafted out.