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Chapter 8 of My Necromancer of the Forbidden Academy
He looked at Maurice in horror. "What did you do to me?!"
"How are you feeling?" Morris carefully observed Harold's condition and explained, "This magic can make you feel tired and weak."
Harold then realized that he must have been under a spell.
After carefully examining his body, he felt a little relieved.
As Morris said, he was just tired.
It's like feeling completely drained after a night of revelry.
Is this magic?
It is indeed a force that science cannot explain.
"But I noticed you didn't use a wand…" Harold sighed. "Oh, never mind, just help me dispel this spell, I can't stand up."
"..."
silence.
"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and help me recover!" Harold urged, with a bad feeling.
Morris scratched the back of his head awkwardly, a look of embarrassment appearing on his face for the first time. "This... actually, I haven't learned how to dispel this spell yet..."
"%¥#&%!"
...
Thirty minutes later, Harold finally felt his strength gradually returning.
"I'm sorry," Morris said very sincerely.
"Are you sure this won't leave any lasting effects?" Harold asked, still feeling a lingering fear as he moved his stiff limbs.
"I'm sure!"
—Well, he wasn't sure.
However, it would be better to give a reassuring answer for now.
Having received confirmation, Harold felt slightly relieved, but still sighed, "Maurice, can magic do anything else?"
"certainly."
"For example?"
Morris thought for a moment and replied, "You should have seen it with Professor McGonagall. Turning one thing into another, or suddenly appearing a hundred miles away, these things can all be done with magic."
A flicker of longing crossed Harold's eyes, and he asked hesitantly, "Then, can I learn magic?"
"Well, that probably won't work," Morris told the truth. "Professor McGonagall said that magical abilities are usually innate."
This answer left Harold looking somewhat disappointed.
"Then let's change the subject," he said, waving his hand. "Where did you and Professor McGonagall go just now?"
"There's a place called Diagon Alley, where there are many wizards."
"Can I go?" Harold's voice was filled with undisguised curiosity.
Morris initially wanted to say no, but upon reflection, he realized that if the man led the way, they might actually be able to get in.
It seems that Harold is quite interested in wizards.
That makes things easier, Morris thought.
"I can show you," he smiled slightly, "but on one condition."
"What is it?" Harold asked, somewhat surprised.
I want pocket money.
"What a clever little devil," Harold laughed.
It's not bad, though.
"Then we'll set off tomorrow morning," he nodded with satisfaction. "I'll drive here."
Chapter 8: Back to Diagon Alley
The next day, Maurice woke up very early.
After a quick wash, he went to the living room and found Harold already waiting for him there.
The person in charge was pacing anxiously—it seemed to be his habit.
He glanced at the wall clock every now and then, clearly looking forward to his upcoming trip to Diagon Alley.
"I've been waiting for you for ten minutes," Harold said, straightening his tie. "Is there anything you need me to bring?"
"No need," Morris replied.
However, he still brought his wand—even though it was currently useless, just to look more like a wizard.
He noticed that Harold had specially changed into a neat suit today, and his hair had been carefully combed.
They look like they're doing something nice.
The two quickly walked to the door, where the car was parked.
Harold patted the hood with pride and said to him, "See this? A classic model from 1980... It's older than you, but it runs more steadily than many new cars."
Morris knew nothing about cars, but the one looked expensive.
Can you really make a lot of money by running an orphanage?
He pondered to himself as he sat in the passenger seat.
At the same time, Harold inserted the key and started the engine.
"Then let's go," he said enthusiastically.
However, thirty seconds passed, and the car was still stationary.
"Are we waiting for something?" Morris couldn't help but ask. "Or has the car broken down?"
"No, we're not waiting for anything, son." He tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel and whistled. "Actually, we're mainly waiting for you—you see, my car can go anywhere, but only if I know where I'm going. I don't know where in London there's a place called Diagon Alley."
Maurice then realized that he had never told Harold the exact location of Diagon Alley.
However...
"Mr. Green, I hope you are not angry."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't even know where Diagon Alley is..."
"!?"
Harold turned his head away, somewhat speechless, and took a deep breath, seemingly trying to maintain his patience.
"Wait a minute," he rubbed his temples, "you mean you don't know where Diagon Alley is?"
"It seems you grasped it quite quickly," Morris said calmly.
"..."
Just a second before Harold was about to explode in anger, Morris quickly added: "But I remember there was a large bookstore and a record store next to it."
Harold felt that the boy in front of him was teasing him, but he had no proof.
"You can't find the exact location just from that," he said coldly.
"That's all I know," Morris said, shrugging. "Maybe we can go around and see the scene, and I'll remember. A big bookstore and a record store—there aren't many combinations like that."
Harold stared at Maurice for a few seconds, seemingly trying to determine if he was joking. Finally, he sighed helplessly and gripped the steering wheel tightly again.
"Alright, let's start from Charing Cross." He muttered as he shifted gears. "That's where all of London has the most bookstores. Hopefully, we won't have to turn the whole city upside down."
...
Fortunately, the two did not spend much time.
The Leaky Cauldron is located in the middle of Charing Cross Road.
Although Harold couldn't see it, they managed to get into the bar without Maurice's help.
In Harold's eyes, he had only taken two steps in the open space before finding himself in this completely unfamiliar place.
"Don't pay attention to strangers."
Morris repeated what Professor McGonagall had told him.
Harold immediately and nervously did as instructed.
The two arrived at the backyard one after the other.
The place is still the same as before, surrounded by walls and a trash can.
"Count three bricks up, then two bricks horizontally..."
Harold held his breath as he watched Maurice draw his wand and tap it three times lightly on the particular brick.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Maurice said softly.
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