The next day was Tuesday—Morris's third day at Hogwarts.
The first class of the morning was History of Magic, the subject that had captured his interest the most. Not because he loved history per se, but because he had heard that the professor was a ghost.
Cuthbert Binns, a living ghost.
For someone as obsessed with ghosts as Morris, this was an immense temptation. After breakfast, he hurried straight to the History of Magic classroom, eager to witness the legendary professor rumored to have taught at Hogwarts since its founding.
The classroom was vast, large enough to accommodate all four houses at once. But because Morris had arrived early, it was completely empty, and Professor Binns had not yet made his appearance.
With no one else around, Morris chose a seat near the front, carefully laid out his notebook and textbook, and settled in to wait. The textbook, History of Magic by Bathsheda Babbling, was notoriously thick, covering every major event in the wizarding world from ancient times to the twentieth century. He had already skimmed it over the summer.
Morris had to admit the content was comprehensive—but undeniably dull. He flipped through a few pages, then closed his eyes, leaning back slightly to meditate.
He had mastered meditation to such a degree that he could slip into it anywhere, anytime. As his breathing slowed and deepened, his consciousness sank inward, like diving into a still, tranquil lake. The sensation was addictive every time.
"Hey—hey—"
A soft tap on his desk pulled him out of his inward journey. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a familiar face.
"Is something the matter, Hermione?"
Hermione Granger had set down her massive textbook beside him, brow slightly furrowed. "I called you several times. Why didn't you answer?"
Morris didn't feel like explaining meditation. Instead, he replied casually, "I fell asleep. Sorry."
Hermione looked at him for a moment, puzzled. His eyes were closed, yet his posture radiated a strange calm—not the slouch of someone asleep. She frowned suspiciously but didn't press further.
It reminded Morris of the first time they had met at the Diagon Alley pet shop. Back then, he had ignored her entirely—rude, yes, but part of his personality.
"By the way, why are you here so early?" Hermione asked as she settled into the seat next to him. "I thought I was early enough. I wanted a good seat and another look at the chapter on the Goblin Rebellions before class."
"Same," Morris replied shortly. He glanced around: only the two of them were in the classroom, and it was still nearly half an hour before the bell.
"So… have you read History of Magic?" Hermione's voice was full of excitement. "I finished my first read-through over the summer, and now I'm on my second set of notes. The perspective on the chapters about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy is fascinating—completely different from Modern Magical History..."
Morris listened in silence. The intensity of her passion struck him. Was this normal for an eleven-year-old girl? Topics for her age were supposed to be dolls or gossip. Could she… also be a Reincarnator? Or a Transmigrator?
He hummed his agreement subtly, watching her with quiet curiosity.
Gradually, other students began filing into the classroom. History of Magic was unique in that all four houses attended together, so the room quickly grew noisy and crowded. Harry and Ron arrived in the final minutes, scanning for seats before choosing the ones behind Morris.
Morris turned to greet the red-haired boy. "Ron, is your leg better?"
Ron froze for a moment, a flicker of awkwardness crossing his face before he masked it with a casual expression. "Oh… that. It's fine now. Mostly recovered after one night. Thanks for asking… Morris."
He paused, remembering Morris's name—Harry had told him. And that morning, Fred had also mentioned that Morris was the true owner of the Acromantula, not them. Ron shuddered. A seemingly kind boy keeping such a pet? Appearances were deceiving.
"That's good," Morris nodded, pulling a candy from his pocket and offering it. "Consider this an apology for scaring you last night. I got it from your brothers. It tastes good, but after—"
Before he could finish, Ron popped the candy into his mouth.
"Wha—mph—"
Instantly, his tongue began to swell uncontrollably, filling his mouth and preventing him from closing his lips. Only muffled sounds escaped. His eyes widened in alarm as he tried to cover his distended tongue.
Harry nearly leaped from his seat. "Ron! Your tongue!"
Hermione, initially shocked, narrowed her eyes at Morris. "What did you give him?"
Morris raised his hands in mild helplessness. "Uh… the side effect only lasts about half a minute. Don't worry."
Half a minute later, Ron's tongue deflated back to normal. Hermione, still frowning, scolded gently, "You should have warned him beforehand, Morris. Even a harmless prank is irresponsible."
Ron waved her off with a grin. "It's fine. The candy was actually pretty tasty."
Compared to yesterday's Acromantula incident, this was minor. He was in good spirits, but his curiosity was piqued.
"Morris, do you know my brothers?" he asked.
"Yeah," Morris nodded. "Fred and George are decent guys."
"Are you close?"
"Reasonably so," Morris replied.
Ron fell into thought. Why would a first-year be associating with Fred and George?
Suddenly, Hermione's eyes darted between Morris, Harry, and Ron. "Wait… did you three know each other before?"
She noticed the ease in their interactions—it wasn't like that of strangers.
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. "There was… a bit of an accident," he said vaguely. "We met last night."
"I see," Hermione murmured, choosing not to pry further.
Morris leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the empty front of the room. Soon, Professor Binns would appear, floating silently among the desks, ready to share centuries of wizarding history. For Morris, it wasn't just a class—it was a window into a world of ghosts, spells, and secrets waiting to be discovered.
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