Harold hesitantly reached out his hand. His fingertip paused just before touching the feathers, then finally landed gently on the owl's head.
A chill instantly penetrated his entire body.
That wasn't the temperature a living thing should have.
It was even much colder than frozen ice.
It was as if... he was directly touching death itself.
He quickly withdrew his hand, but the lingering chill on his fingertip wouldn't go away.
Sparkles stiffly twisted its body—it still didn't like others touching it, especially strangers.
"It's an evil creature, isn't it?" Harold asked somewhat uneasily.
"That depends on how you define 'evil,' sir." Morris replied. "I just recited a spell, and it changed from a corpse to what it is now. As I see it, I haven't done anything 'evil.'"
The key to the undead creature transformation magic circle was that the object being transformed must possess a strong desire to survive.
This wasn't difficult for ordinary animals, as survival was the instinct of all living things.
In other words, the undead creatures transformed by Morris didn't resist continuing to exist in this form.
Harold stared blankly at the undead owl, his gaze was gradually losing focus, not knowing what he was thinking.
"There's one thing I need to remind you of, Mr. Green," Morris suddenly spoke, interrupting Harold's thoughts. "This magic can only be used on animals. It's impossible to revive humans, so please don't have any thoughts in that direction."
Harold was stunned, then showed a bitter yet relieved smile.
It seemed Morris had completely seen through his thoughts.
Indeed, this was an unusual magical child.
He sighed, then asked seriously, "So, is there any other magic that can revive people?"
"I don't know," Morris raised his arm, letting Sparkles fly back to the roof. "But there might be. However, that could already be called a miracle. I advise you not to think about it."
He already understood in his heart.
From their first meeting, he had sensed that Harold was someone who feared magic, yet some thought kept this middle-aged man wanting to delve deeper into the magical world.
Reviving someone.
A reasonable and special reason.
What technology couldn't accomplish, magic might offer a glimmer of hope.
Presumably, this was his reason for so eagerly approaching magic.
"This magic can only be used on animals."
In fact, Morris had said this deliberately.
The undead creature transformation would most likely work on humans as well.
It's just that he wasn't ready yet.
Unlike ordinary animals, transforming a human into undead required enormous courage and determination.
Moreover, whether the transformed undead could retain their original personality and consciousness was also a question.
Further verification was needed.
Morris was unwilling to give others hope easily, because once there was hope, what awaited them would be even deeper despair.
Harold's gaze followed the owl's figure as it swept onto the eaves, his voice was trembling slightly. "I understand... Thank you for telling me this, Morris."
"Mm." Morris acknowledged.
"Do you want to hear my story?" Harold asked softly.
"No," Morris's answer was straightforward. "I'm not interested in other people's tragic pasts."
"..."
Why isn't this kid following the author's plan?
Harold turned his head and laughed twice. "Well, it's not exactly a tragic past, but... since you don't want to hear it, never mind."
The sky had darkened without notice, clouds pushed in from the distance, the air was filled with a humid scent.
"Looks like it's going to rain," Harold looked up at the gloomy sky. "I should go. My daughter is still waiting for me at home."
He smiled warmly at Morris, his smile was carrying some relief now. "Goodbye, my friend."
"Goodbye." Morris waved. "If there's anything I can do, feel free to come find me."
When Morris returned indoors, the sky had been completely dyed black.
Borrowing the light from the corridor, Sparkles silently merged into his shadow.
Immediately after, a torrential downpour began.
Strong winds swept rain through window cracks.
Excited shrieks from children and the hurried footsteps of caretakers closing windows echoed through the corridor.
Morris quite liked rainy weather, though he didn't like noisy environments.
So, he immediately decided to return to his dormitory.
Inside the dormitory,
"Where did you go?" Scott didn't look up, he was still focused on polishing a small knife he'd picked up from somewhere.
"Just wandered around." Morris took off his damp jacket and asked casually, "By the way, do you have any envelopes and letter paper?"
He remembered Scott had written letters before.
Scott didn't look up, just began using the knife tip to gently remove dirt from under his fingernails. "In the left drawer. But who are you writing to?"
"Someone I know."
Morris replied casually.
He pulled open the drawer and indeed found a stack of yellowed letter paper and several envelopes with slightly curled edges.
Who knows where Scott got them from.
Probably filched them from somewhere. This guy wasn't as honest as he looked.
Scott finally looked up, somewhat surprised. "You'll have to handle the postage yourself."
"Oh, that's no problem."
Owl delivery was free, only requiring a bit of food—though Sparkles was an undead creature, so even the food was saved.
The pen scratched across the paper, making a rustling sound.
Morris planned to first write to that person named Ezra Flick, inquiring about the whereabouts of that skeleton.
Being able to buy it would naturally be best.
If possible, he would also visit in person later.
But not now. A place like Knockturn Alley required full preparation before venturing in.
"...Knockturn Alley No. 21, basement, attention Ezra Flick."
Folding the letter and tucking it into the envelope, then writing the address on the front, Morris temporarily stored it in the drawer.
It was raining outside now, not a good time to send letters.
"Speaking of which... you can deliver letters, right?" Morris asked his shadow at his feet.
Sparkles' upper body quietly emerged from the shadow and nodded affirmatively.
"Thank you."
Sparkles showed a proud expression, then sank back into the shadow.
Owls in the Wizarding world seemed to possess some kind of magic. They didn't need to be trained to find their way; they were born with a supernatural ability to locate people.
And after becoming an undead creature, this magic hadn't failed.
"Who are you talking to?" Scott looked at Morris suspiciously, not noticing the abnormality at his feet.
"Don't worry about it, just talking to myself." Morris answered calmly, walking to the window to gaze at the rain outside.
It was getting heavier.
Just then, the window was suddenly pushed open from outside, and the undead cat Tin-Tin nimbly squeezed in.
It stood on the windowsill and vigorously shook itself.
Cold water droplets scattered everywhere, splashing onto Scott's face.
"Hey! Control your cat!" Scott wiped the water droplets from his face, glaring angrily at the undead cat on the windowsill.
Tin-Tin nonchalantly licked its front leg, ignoring this foolish human.
"Don't be angry, Scott." Morris smiled. "I'll treat you to cake tomorrow."
Scott raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Where'd you get the money?"
"Don't worry about it."
He'd gotten a little pocket money from Harold earlier.