When they returned to the orphanage, night had completely fallen, and the last traces of twilight had disappeared beyond the horizon.
The orphanage's silhouette looked particularly desolate in the night.
Harold couldn't help but sigh softly. These two days had been more magical than his entire life combined.
"How do you feel?" Morris asked calmly.
"Not bad," Harold replied casually.
He hadn't bought any souvenirs in Diagon Alley, only a few chocolate frogs that jumped—though he'd already eaten them all.
Magic actually existed.
Unfortunately, he couldn't reveal any of this to anyone except wizards.
This was a world that ordinary people couldn't access.
A world that his former self couldn't have accessed.
Morris stretched. "Goodbye, Mr. Green. I'm going to rest."
Harold felt a complex emotion stirring inexplicably in his heart.
From these two days of interaction, even setting aside his wizard identity, this child Morris was clearly not ordinary. If not for his childish appearance, Harold would have felt like he was chatting with a peer.
"Morris," he called out to the boy who was about to turn away with the birdcage, pulling a business card from his suit pocket and handed it over. "If you need anything, you can try calling me."
He paused and added, "The phone number should be in the directory too, but having this is more convenient."
"Thank you." Morris accepted Harold's business card.
He knew Harold was showing him goodwill.
And that was beneficial to him as well.
"Ah, one more thing," Harold seemed to remember something before leaving. "If you really do resurrect this owl, could you let me see it?"
Morris thought for a moment and nodded slowly. "Sure."
There was no loss in it for him.
And he found Harold rather pleasant—even if he was bald.
When Morris returned to the dormitory, his roommate Scott was playing with a dagger he'd apparently found somewhere.
"It's a bit rusty," he said. "I'm trying to restore it... What's that?"
He noticed the birdcage in Morris's hand.
"An owl." Morris said breifly, then placed it in a corner of the room.
"And then?" Scott looked curiously at the listless black bird in the cage. "Shouldn't you explain?"
"It's a gift from Mr. Green," Morris explained.
The mystery only deepened.
"Mr. Green?" Scott put down the dagger and frowned, and began searching his memory. "Which Mr. Green? Among the people we know... I don't think anyone's named Green."
"Harold Green, the person in charge of this children's home."
Only then did Scott understand.
That wasn't surprising—when Morris had first met Harold, he'd almost forgotten who he was too.
"So why would he give you an owl?" Scott was even more confused.
"My back-to-school gift." Morris shook the birdcage, and the eagle owl inside moved its wings slightly.
Scott still didn't understand.
Who gives an owl as a back-to-school gift?
"Ah, I got it." Scott suddenly showed an expression of realization and leaned close to Morris, lowering his voice. "Actually, Harold Green is your father, isn't he?"
"Your imagination is too rich," Morris continued what he was doing, carefully removing the eagle owl from the cage.
The large black bird lay docilely in his arms, still looking weak.
"It makes perfect sense!" Scott analyzed excitedly. "A person in charge who normally never appears before us suddenly gives you such a special gift, and it's an owl! This definitely isn't an ordinary gift—it must have special meaning..."
Morris ignored Scott's rambling and continued observing the owl's condition.
According to the pet shop assistant, this owl had been cursed by a dark wizard, which was why it had become like this.
It must have suffered considerable torment.
"Looks like I need to prepare the transformation spell soon," Morris murmured.
"Hey! Are you even listening to me?" Scott was still chattering away.
"Go to sleep." Morris placed the owl back in the cage and climbed into his own bed.
...
The next morning, the first thing Morris did after waking up was look toward the owl in the corner.
The eagle owl lay on its side in the cage, its already dull eyes were now completely empty of light.
It remained in the position it had been in before falling asleep last night, but its chest no longer rose and fell.
Dead.
Morris gazed quietly at the lifeless owl, and his face showed no particular expression.
"As expected, it didn't make it through," he muttered to himself.
Predictably, no miracle had occurred.
The eagle owl's life had been even shorter than the two days the assistant had predicted.
Morris carefully carried the cage containing the corpse out of the dormitory and into the backyard warehouse.
He didn't know if the undead creature transformation magic circle had any requirements regarding how long the body had been dead, so it was better to complete it quickly.
In the warehouse.
Having done this before, Morris only spent half an hour this time completing the construction of the undead creature transformation magic circle.
But the difference was that this time, Morris planned to add a little extra "ingredient."
Morris stood beside the magic circle, palm down, extending his right arm forward.
"Blood Extraction!"
This was a simple spell (compared to the Weakening Curse)—Morris had fully mastered it in just an hour.
The effect was simple: extracting the user's blood without causing any wounds.
Accompanying Morris's incantation, blood slowly dripped from the center of his palm.
"Drip, drip..."
The blood fell to the ground and, as if possessing life, merged into the magic circle.
The circle, already drawn in red pigment, became increasingly vivid, beginning to emit an eerie dark red glow.
After feeling slightly dizzy, Morris stopped the blood extraction spell.
He didn't know exactly how much blood he'd mixed in, but the amount certainly wasn't small.
Then he walked to the cage, picked up the cold, stiff owl, and gently placed it in the center of the magic circle.
The effect this time should be quite interesting.
"The world of the living has not yet forgotten you; death's slumber is not your final chapter."
The moment Morris's incantation fell, the magic circle stirred.
Just like last time, the crimson lines slowly flowed, all entering the owl's corpse.
But this time, within the blood-colored patterns, there were faint traces of dark golden threads.
When the last wisp of red light sank into the owl's body, the warehouse fell into dead silence.
Suddenly, the owl's eyes flew open. In its empty eye sockets, two clusters of ghostly blue flames ignited, replacing its original eyeballs.
Morris crouched before it.
"Hoo—"
It stood up, gazing at Morris with those burning eyes, slowly lowered its head, and gently touched his fingertips with its beak.