Harold hesitantly reached out, his fingertips pausing just before they touched the feathers, before finally settling gently on the owl's head.
A chill instantly pierced his entire body.
That was not the temperature of a living creature.
It was far colder than even a frozen block of ice.
It was as though... he had touched death itself.
He jerked his hand back, but the chill lingering in his fingertips would not fade.
Yanhua twisted his body somewhat stiffly-he still disliked being touched by others, especially strangers.
"He's an evil creature, isn't he?" Harold asked uneasily.
"That depends on how you define 'evil,' sir," Morris replied. "I merely recited a spell, and he went from a corpse to what he is now. As far as I'm concerned, I haven't done anything 'evil.'"
The key to the Undead Creature Transformation Ritual was that the subject had to possess a powerful desire to survive.
This was hardly difficult for ordinary animals, because survival was an instinct shared by all living creatures.
In other words, the undead creatures Morris transformed did not themselves resist continuing to exist in this form.
Harold stared blankly at the undead owl, his gaze gradually losing focus, his thoughts unknown.
"There's something I need to remind you of, Mr. Green," Morris suddenly said, interrupting Harold's thoughts. "This magic can only be used on animals. People cannot be resurrected, so please don't entertain any ideas along those lines."
Harold froze for a moment, then gave a bitter yet relieved smile.
It seemed Morris had seen right through him.
Sure enough, this was no ordinary child.
He sighed, then asked earnestly, "Then is there any other magic that can resurrect people?"
"I don't know." Morris raised his arm, letting Yanhua fly back to the roof. "But perhaps there is. Still, that would qualify as a miracle. I'd advise you not to get carried away."
He already understood.
From their very first meeting, he had sensed that Harold was someone who feared magic, yet some thought kept driving this middle-aged man to delve deeper into its domain.
Resurrecting someone.
A reasonable yet unusual reason.
Where technology could not succeed, magic might offer a glimmer of hope.
Presumably, this was why he was so eager to come into contact with magic.
"This magic can only be used on animals."
In fact, Morris had said that deliberately.
Undead creature transformation would most likely work on humans too.
It was just that he was not ready yet.
Unlike with ordinary animals, transforming a human into an undead required tremendous courage and resolve.
Moreover, whether the transformed undead would retain their original personality and consciousness was another question.
Further verification was still needed.
Morris was unwilling to give others hope lightly, because once they had hope, what awaited them would be even deeper despair.
Harold's gaze followed the owl as he swept up onto the eaves, his voice trembling slightly. "I understand... Thank you for telling me all this, Morris."
"Mm," Morris acknowledged.
"Would you like to hear my story?" Harold asked softly.
"No," Morris answered bluntly. "I'm not interested in other people's tragic pasts."
"..."
Why wasn't he following the usual script?
Harold turned his head and laughed twice. "It's not some tragic past, but... if you don't want to hear it, never mind."
Before they knew it, the sky had darkened. Black clouds advanced from afar, and moisture hung in the air.
"Looks like rain." Harold looked up at the gloomy sky. "I should go. My daughter is waiting for me at home."
He gave Morris a gentle smile, a hint of relief in it. "Goodbye, my friend."
"Goodbye." Morris waved. "If there's anything I can do, come find me anytime."
By the time Morris returned indoors, the sky had turned completely black.
In the light from the corridor, Yanhua silently merged into his shadow.
Immediately afterward, rain came pouring down.
Gusts drove strands of rain through the gaps in the windows.
The children's excited screams and the hurried footsteps of carers closing windows came from the corridor.
Morris liked rainy weather, but he did not like noisy surroundings.
So he immediately decided to return to the dormitory.
Inside the dormitory,
"Where did you go?" Scott did not look up, still focused on wiping the knife he had picked up somewhere.
"Just wandered around." Morris took off his damp coat and casually asked, "By the way, do you have any envelopes and writing paper?"
He remembered that Scott had written letters before.
Without looking up, Scott gently picked dirt from beneath his nails with the tip of the knife. "In the drawer on the left. Who are you writing to, though?"
"An acquaintance."
Morris answered casually.
He pulled open the drawer and, sure enough, found a stack of yellowed writing paper and several envelopes with slightly curled edges.
Who knew where Scott had gotten them.
He had probably swiped them from somewhere. This fellow was not as honest as he looked.
Scott finally raised his head and said with some surprise, "You'll have to sort out the postage yourself."
"Oh, that's no problem."
Owl post was free, requiring only a little food-but Yanhua was an undead creature, so even that was unnecessary.
The fountain pen scratched across the paper with a rustling sound.
Morris planned to first write to the man named Ezra Frick and inquire about the whereabouts of that skeleton.
It would be best if he could buy it.
If possible, he would also pay a visit later.
But not now. A place like Knockturn Alley required thorough preparation before he could set foot there.
"...To Ezra Frick, basement, 21 Knockturn Alley."
After folding the letter and slipping it into the envelope, then writing the address on the front, Morris put it away in the drawer for the time being.
It was raining outside, so this was not a good time to send a letter.
"Speaking of which... you can deliver letters, right?" Morris asked, looking down at the shadow by his feet.
Yanhua's upper body silently emerged from the shadow, and he nodded affirmatively.
"Sorry for the trouble."
Yanhua looked proud, then sank back into the shadow.
Owls in the Wizarding World seemed to possess some kind of magic. They needed no training to learn routes, naturally possessing a supernatural ability to find people.
And after becoming an undead creature, this magic had not stopped working.
"Who are you talking to?" Scott looked at Morris suspiciously, not noticing anything unusual at his feet.
"Never mind. Just talking to myself," Morris answered calmly, walking over to the window to watch the curtain of rain outside.
It was coming down harder and harder.
Just then, the window was suddenly pushed open from outside, and Guantou, the undead cat, nimbly slipped in.
He stood on the windowsill and shook himself vigorously.
Cold droplets scattered everywhere, splashing onto Scott's face.
"Hey! Keep your cat under control!" Scott wiped the water from his face and glared angrily at the undead cat on the windowsill.
Guantou licked his foreleg nonchalantly, ignoring this foolish human.
"Don't be angry, Scott." Morris smiled. "I'll treat you to cake tomorrow."
Scott raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Where did you get the money?"
"Don't worry about that."
He had asked Harold for a tiny bit of spending money earlier.