Hogwarts: I Really Don't Want to Be a Wizard

Although Grete is not yet an adult, thanks to his abundant nutrition, his height and other features have long been about the same as those of an adult.

The only thing that can still be related to a minor is his handsome face.

The little guy who came to save him was still young and too weak. He dragged Gretel back and forth along the way, stopping to rest from time to time.

But even when he was about to fall down from exhaustion, whenever he took a break, he didn't say anything about throwing Gretel to the ground.

Every time, Grete was carefully supported and leaned against the nearby alley wall as much as possible.

Not only that, every time he stopped to settle down, he would carefully peel off Gretel's upper body clothes, carefully put his ear to his chest, and feel the weak heartbeat that might stop beating at any time.

Only when you hear the small but firm beating sound of your heart can you temporarily relax your tense body.

Gretel didn't know where the little guy was going to drag him. His legs had been swimming in the sewage for a long time.

The originally clean and straight pants were now all wet, with gravel and other debris getting in from the joint between the shoes and the trouser legs.

Fortunately, Grete never wronged himself, and the quality of the clothes he wore was considered to be of the highest quality.

Otherwise, if I drag it on the ground like this, not only will there be a big hole in my pants, but my legs will also be bruised and bloody.

Grete was curious about what era it was now, and why the alley wall he was leaning on felt like wood.

Then there was the little guy who was dragging him forward with difficulty. Why did he suddenly want to drag him up from the muddy water?

Didn't he obviously give him a break from the beginning?

Also, why did this little guy keep silent, whether he was beating the mouse like crazy or groping on him.

Or maybe when I was carrying him now, I didn't say a word. To be precise, except for the gasping when breathing and the muffled groan coming from the nasal cavity when exerting force, there was no other sound.

Isn't he a little mute?

At such a young age, he is still mute.

Depending on the situation, it's better to live alone, otherwise you won't be working hard for a mouse.

As for the purpose of catching mice, Gretel knew it without even using his brain. It must be to satisfy his hunger.

When he was still in the orphanage, he saw many such children at the dock.

The capacity of St. Mary's Welfare Home was limited, so Mrs. Swann lived frugally and squeezed out rare rations from between her teeth.

At that time, when he was brought to deliver meals to these children, he saw with his own eyes that the children at the dock were eating rat meat to satisfy their hunger.

In other words, the rats at the pier were all fat, which allowed many children to survive the hardships and not let them all die from the hardships of life.

Looking at it this way, the little guy who is saving him now is also such a pitiful person.

In fact, he is even more difficult than the children at the dock. He is a little mute who knows how much suffering he will suffer.

Wandering children are also good at flattering others and suppressing others. In order to fill their stomachs, they don't mind showing off the inherent malice of human nature.

Children like Little Mute are naturally easily bullied.

When he was in trouble, Grete had no thoughts of blame.

Gretel didn't feel any resentment at all when the little guy took away the things.

He only regrets that he may never see the career he has built again, and he doesn't know if Seni and the others can lead Dawn to create a new era so that all wizards can live freely in this world.

But thinking about it, there probably won't be any problems.

Grete, who has long known that life can encounter unexpected events, leads the core comrades of Sugon every year to summarize the harvest and make some plans for the future.

The only difference is the level of detail of these plans.

Like the second year, they will prepare everything to be done together in every detail.

For three to five years, or even longer, a general charter will be drawn up, and major events will be broken down into small goals.

But he didn't have time to think about that now.

If no one saves him, he will die. The worst he can do is meet the God of Death.

But now that little guy, the little mute, has worked so hard to save him, maybe he can still struggle.

If it just happened like this, he would not be willing to die.

He didn't know how long he would have to walk, but Grete felt that the little mute's strength was about to run out.

The upper body that originally supported him on his back has slid down again and again.

At the beginning, the little mute could still work hard and lift his body up with all his strength.

But now, I have to stop and rest after only taking a few steps.

Even now I don't put him down completely, most likely because I am afraid that I will really put him down and won't be able to carry him on my back again.

The rise and fall of the chest became weaker and weaker, and it seemed that there was only air coming in and no air coming out of the nose.

The brain that was originally clear and clear has now begun to become chaotic, and the soul that was originally excited seems to be covered with a layer of darkness for some reason.

I don’t know if I can become a ghost again.

Gretel's mind gradually became confused, and his only thought was how he would greet the little mute if he turned into a ghost.

He didn't know if the ghost could still use magic power. If so, he wanted to open his small bag. He remembered that there were a lot of gold Galleons inside.

Probably, he can help this little mute who suddenly came to save him.

The feeling in the limbs is gradually lost. The friction of the mud and the coldness of the sewage are all no longer felt.

Perhaps the oil has run out, and even the soul that dominates the body has begun to become ignorant.

The last energy of the body is supplied to the heart, leaving the last beat in this world.

Death is really uncomfortable.

All senses were closed, and endless darkness gradually surrounded Gretel.

The strength to stand up and try to make the little mute relax was gone.

Finally, his body trembled, and the little mute immediately froze on the spot.

He felt that the little warmth of the man he had been carrying seemed to have disappeared.

The only thing that was still warm was the wrist that he had been holding tightly.

But that temperature, he could tell, was his own.

It started to rain again, and the cold rain hit this alley full of sewage.

Maybe after a long time, or maybe it was just a moment, the little mute bit his lip, held on for a breath, and dragged Gretel to the side of the road. There was a little protruding eaves on it, which could barely block a little rain.

——

Grete felt a strange temperature coming from his lips, gentle, but also seemed to be a little burning.

The hot liquid soaked the lips, poured into the mouth, rushed into the throat, and then turned into rare heat, soaking the limbs and bones.

The stopped heart felt the stimulation of heat, slowly but powerfully, and started to work hard again, dong dong~dong dong~dong dong...

…

After an unknown amount of time, Grete's hearing was restored, and he heard a rustling sound.

Then someone squeezed in from somewhere, Gretel could hear it, and cautiously walked to his side.

It's the little mute.

When those hands touched him, Grete knew the identity of the person coming.

Those slender hands pulled him along, hard but firm.

How many times did Gretel feel that he would not be able to pull his slipped body back on his back again, the little mute would always squeeze out a little strength from nowhere.

He dragged him out of the sewage with difficulty, and then stepped into the next mass of sewage.

"It seems that I can't become a ghost anymore."

Gretel could feel that his condition was gradually getting better. Although it was slow, it was stable enough.

The little mute brought a broken bowl to Gretel's mouth, and the rim of the bowl, which was full of holes and chips, scratched his lips.

It was hot soup. The body's desire made Gretel involuntarily open her mouth, swallowing the rare heat.

Along with the hot soup, an extremely slender frame burst into Grete's mouth with some meat.

It was a rat, probably the same rat that had tried to use him as food.

Grete actually felt a little funny for a moment, changing his shape offensively and defensively. Who would have thought that the hunter turned into the prey, and finally became a piece of meat in his mouth.

He didn't feel any nausea. At this time, he had no right to be picky.

Besides, even if he wanted to be picky, he didn't have the conditions. The little mute probably didn't have any other food.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t be eyeing the wild rats that spend all day grazing in the gutters.

Gretel swallowed halfway, then closed his lips tightly.

He heard the little mute swallowing uncontrollably.

It seems that the little mute gave up his own rations to himself.

When thinking about this kind of thing, Gretel couldn't open his mouth anymore.

He couldn't repay kindness with hatred. That thin body needed this bowl of broth more than he did.

Besides, he has the possibility of recovery now. Even if he doesn't eat, he can still rely on energy to sustain himself.

What if, just because he ate the last half bowl of soup, the little guy went to see the God of Death? How could he, Gretel, repay his kindness?

But it was helpless, the little guy was much more determined than him.

Even though Grete had clearly expressed his resistance, the little guy didn't give up.

There was no way, even though Gretel had regained his consciousness, he also saw the possibility of regaining his health.

But now he still has no strength and can only be at the mercy of the little mute.

The little guy helped Gretel lean against him, and firmly stretched out his hand to open Gretel's teeth.

Holding the bowl in his other hand, he irresistibly fed the soup and meat into Grete's mouth.

Until the end of the feeding, he hung the last drop of soup on Grete's lips for a few times before putting down the bowl.

He put Grete down again, picked up a few bags of things from the side, piled them all on Grete, and then got out along the same place.

Grete took a deep breath, and the pungent smell in his nose instantly caused his body to send out a stop signal.

He could tell that the smell here was that of a garbage dump.

Only garbage dumps have such a complex smell, and they are a mixture of domestic and production waste.

It seems that this is the little mute's stronghold.

Gretel silently adjusted his body and tried to recover quickly.

After he recovers, if nothing else, he can at least return the little guy to a civilized country and give him a truly human life.

I don’t know how long it took, but the rustling sound appeared again.

The little guy arrived as promised, but this time, the roar from his stomach was much quieter.

It seemed that the little mute had a pretty good harvest today, and Gretel was happy for him.

He finally didn't have to worry about whether the little guy would starve to death because of the half bowl of soup he was force-fed.

This time the soup was not made of rat meat. Grete asked about the real taste of food.

Although, it doesn't taste that delicious.

It's a bit like the smell in the bucket where leftovers are processed at the back door of the small restaurant near St. Mary's Welfare Home.

The little mute probably found food waste from the restaurant today.

As time passed, Grete's body began to recover bit by bit, although he still couldn't see anything or move his limbs.

But after all, he was not in a state where a gust of wind might kill him.

Grete kept counting the days silently. It had been about a week since he regained consciousness.

After getting out of the near-death state, the little guy gave him the jacket that was stripped off him and his small bag.

Just stuff it into his arms.

Gretel really wanted to say that letting the little guy use these things would at least improve his life a little bit. Anyway, in his current state, there was nothing he could do with these things.

But he couldn't make a sound, both Gretel and the little guy became mute.

The little mute takes care of the paralyzed big mute.

Gretel lay in the garbage heap every day, and the little guy came to feed him at fixed times.

On a good day they drank broth together, or ate some surprisingly hard bread.

When their luck is bad, they can only drink water together to satisfy their hunger.

But no matter what, the little guy never gave up on him, not even once.

From time to time, Grete could still hear vague yells and curses coming from a distance. From the sound, he could tell he was arresting someone.

No wonder the little guy wanted to hide him, probably because he was afraid that he would be captured.

Gretel lies here in fear every day. He is not worried about himself, he is only worried about the little mute.

Worried that someone would kidnap him, worried that something would happen to him.

Fortunately, the little mute is very smart.

Every time there was a sound, the little guy would rush into the garbage pile, run to him, cling to him tightly, and wrap the two of them tightly in garbage.

After staying here for so long, Grete has become accustomed to the smell here and will no longer choke when taking a deep breath.

He could even distinguish the smell of the little mute in this stench.

Although he lives in a garbage dump, the little guy will find clean water every day and wipe them both down, trying to maintain his human dignity.

Otherwise, Gretel believed that his whole body would have turned into a nest of bugs.

Get well soon.

Every time she felt the little mute's suppressed nervous breathing, Gretel would pray anxiously in her heart.

At least, it would be nice to let him move.