After what felt like an eternity, the Hogwarts Express finally began to slow down with a long, drawn-out screech of brakes against rails.
Morris rubbed his slightly sore neck, working out the stiffness that had accumulated from hours of sitting. He turned to look out the window, pressing closer to the glass.
The sky had already taken on the deep, rich colors of dusk. Purple and indigo dominated, with the horizon still glowing faintly with the last traces of sunset. In the distance, mountains rose and fell in succession, their dark silhouettes creating a jagged skyline that looked like the spine of some slumbering giant beast. The Scottish Highlands.
"We're almost there," Lee Jordan announced, stretching lazily in his seat. His arms extended above his head until his joints popped. His right hand, reached out carelessly, inadvertently brushed against Tin-Tin, who had been dozing on Morris's lap for the past hour.
"!"
Lee jerked his hand back as though he'd touched a hot iron, his eyes widening with shock. His breath caught in his throat.
"What's wrong?" Fred noticed his unusual reaction immediately.
"Nothing," Lee Jordan shook his head quickly. "It's nothing. Just surprised me."
But that wasn't entirely true. A strange feeling still lingered in his fingertips—an odd, deeply eerie chill that had traveled up his arm. It wasn't ordinary coldness. It was a bone-deep frigidity, as if he'd touched something that didn't belong to the world of the living.
And eerily familiar. He struggled to place it, then remembered—it was similar to the feeling when Hogwarts' ghosts passed through his body. That same otherworldly cold, that same sense of touching something.
But why would Morris's cat feel like a ghost?
He instinctively turned toward Morris, only to find the boy still gazing out the window, completely oblivious to his reaction. His silver-gray eyes reflected the dusk colors, calm and pensive.
Only the black cat had opened its eyes. Those dull yellow pupils were now fixed on Lee Jordan, watching him with an intensity that felt almost knowing.
Lee Jordan couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. There was something wrong with that cat.
"Are you sure you're okay?" George leaned over with concern. "You look pale."
"I'm fine," Lee Jordan said more firmly, consciously steadying himself and deliberately looking away from the unsettling cat. Better not to think too hard about it.
Before the train had come to a complete stop, hurried footsteps already echoed through the corridor outside their compartment. Students eager to disembark had their voices raised in excitement.
"Time to go," Fred announced, standing up and reaching for the luggage rack.
"Let's move before the crowd blocks everything," George added, standing simultaneously with his twin.
"Oh, right." Morris carefully lifted Tin-Tin from his lap and rose, following the twins toward the door. His legs had gone slightly numb from sitting so long.
"Hey, first year," Fred called back, pausing before opening the compartment door. He pointed to the cat in Morris's arms and the trunk at his feet. "You don't need to bring those. Leave your pets and luggage on the train—the house-elves will deliver everything to your dormitory tonight. Saves you hauling it all over. By the way, do you know what house-elves are?"
"Of course," Morris nodded. He'd read about these wizard servants in his books.
"Stay put, stupid cat. See you tonight." Morris placed Tin-Tin carefully on top of his trunk, scratching behind its cold ears. Though Tin-Tin seemed reluctant, clearly preferring to stay with him, it obediently settled into position and curled up.
Morris gave Tin-Tin one final pat, then followed Fred and George out into the crowded corridor.
The bustling crowd poured out of the Hogwarts Express's multiple doors. Morris found himself swept along in the current of excited students, surrounded by chattering voices and chaos.
Night had completely fallen during the last minutes of their journey. The sky was now deep black, scattered with more stars than Morris had ever seen—certainly more than had been visible through London's light pollution. The Milky Way stretched across the heavens in a luminous band.
The evening breeze carried a crisp, cool breath that felt fresh after hours in the train's compartments. It pressed against Morris's face, carrying scents of pine forest and lake water and clean earth. The temperature had dropped significantly. They were much further north now, at higher elevation.
Morris stepped onto the platform. He paused to orient himself, letting the crowd flow around him.
He found himself on a rather crude, rustic little platform that looked centuries old and poorly maintained. The boards creaked under the weight of so many students. Nearby stood an old wooden sign, its paint faded and peeling.
Morris squinted at it in the dim light: "Hogsmeade Station."
Not far away across the platform, lanterns swayed gently in the darkness.
"First years! First years over here!" A gruff, booming voice suddenly rang out. "All first years follow me! Stay together now! Harry! Harry Potter, over here! How are you, Harry?"
Morris turned toward the voice and felt his eyes widen.
Standing at the platform's edge was an extraordinarily tall figure—easily eleven or twelve feet tall, perhaps even more. The man was massive in every dimension, not just height but breadth as well.
Shoulders incredibly wide, arms thick as tree trunks, hands large enough to palm a student's entire head. Wild dark hair and an equally wild beard covered much of his face.
Morris's mind calculated quickly. That size wasn't achievable through human genetics alone—the square-cube law meant a human scaled up that far shouldn't be able to function. So, this man was almost certainly a half-breed. Part human, part giant, given the size and proportions.
But the words the giant had called out were even more attention-grabbing than his appearance.
Harry Potter—the only name in this entire world that Morris still vaguely remembered from his previous life. The protagonist, the boy who lived, whatever other titles he'd acquired.
Morris wasn't the only one reacting. All around him, heads were turning, eyes searching, students rising on toes to get a better view. Everyone was curious about what kind of person Harry Potter actually was.
Morris was himself scanning the crowd as well, trying to identify which first-year might be the famous boy. Probably because he was surrounded by taller students, Morris couldn't actually see him despite his best efforts.
But that didn't particularly matter. After all, Harry Potter's destiny had nothing to do with him.
"I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts!" the giant's voice boomed again. "Come on, first years, follow me! This way! Watch your step—the path is dark!"
Morris said brief farewells to Lee Jordan and the twins, who were moving off with the older students toward different transportation. Lee gave him an uncertain smile, still looking rattled. The twins gave identical grins: "Good luck with the sorting!"
Morris turned and joined the first-year group, deliberately positioning himself at the very back of the forming line. Back here, he had space to breathe, room to observe.
The walk began, following Hagrid down a steep, narrow path that led into darkness. Dense forest pressed in on both sides blocking out most of the starlight.
Morris walked steadily, enjoying the comfortable night breeze. His life at Hogwarts was about to officially begin.
As he walked, Morris noticed something unusual about his shadow in the dim lamplight from Hagrid's lantern far ahead. It wriggled slightly.
A separate black silhouette suddenly detached itself from the larger shadow, peeling away like a figure stepping from behind a curtain.
Sparkles emerged silently, transitioning from pure shadow to three-dimensional form. The undead owl leaped lightly onto Morris's extended wrist.
The two clusters of ghostly blue flames burning in Sparkles's eye sockets were particularly conspicuous in the darkness—cold, eerie, distinctly unnatural. They flickered like small bonfires.
However, because Morris was walking at the very end of the line, maintaining distance from the other students, no one was in position to notice this abnormal scene. The students ahead were too focused on watching their footing on the dark path.
"Hoo-hoo-hoo," Sparkles made its hollow sound.
Morris smiled slightly. "You want to go say hello to the school's owls? See what the local situation is?"
He understood Sparkles's meaning clearly through their connection. "No problem. Go ahead. Just don't cause trouble, and come back when you're done."
He gently raised his arm in a release gesture.
The flames in Sparkles's eye sockets flickered then it spread its dark wings with a soft whisper and launched itself into the night sky. Within seconds, it had disappeared, indistinguishable from the darkness, flying toward the distant castle.
Owls seemed to have their own social rules. As a newcomer, Sparkles needed to introduce itself to the local owl community. He just didn't know whether they would accept an undead owl.
Morris watched where Sparkles had disappeared, then quickened his pace to catch up with the first-year group.
Hagrid led the restless first-years down the steep path for what felt like ages. The forest gradually thinned as they descended, more light was coming through from above. The path twisted and turned, following the landscape's natural curves.
Finally, after perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes of walking, they emerged from the trees and stopped beside an enormous body of water.
It was a lake, but "lake" felt inadequate for the sheer scale. The water stretched out like a small inland sea, so vast that Morris couldn't see the opposite shore despite the clear night. The surface was remarkably calm, reflecting the stars above like a vast black mirror.
"We'll cross by boat!" Hagrid announced, gesturing toward the water's edge where numerous small wooden boats were tied at a rickety dock. "Four to a boat, no more than four! One at a time, don't rush! And no standing up once you're in—I don't want anyone falling in the lake tonight!"
Because Morris was himself at the very back and maintained that position throughout the walk, he arrived at the boat distribution last. By the time he reached the dock, most boats were already occupied with groups of four first-years.
Which meant Morris, as the final straggler, had an entire boat to himself.
This suited him perfectly. He could even lie down comfortably and gaze at the spectacular stars.
Morris carefully stepped into his assigned boat, testing its stability. The boat shook gently but seemed sturdy enough. He sat on a bench, then began to recline backward—
"Please sit up properly, the gentleman in the last boat!"
Hagrid's voice carried clearly across the water from the foremost vessel. Apparently, the gamekeeper had excellent night vision, spotting Morris's attempt to lie down despite the darkness and distance.
Morris sighed quietly and reluctantly complied. 'So much for stargazing in comfort.'
A moment later, with no visible signal, all the boats began moving simultaneously. They glided smoothly away from the dock under their own power. The motion was steady and eerily silent.
Morris allowed himself to relax despite remaining upright. He reached his hand out over the boat's side, extending his fingers until they broke the water's surface.
The sensation was pleasant. A gentle coolness reached his fingertips, carrying the unique temperature of lake water at night.
He pulled his hand back and cupped some water, lifting it to examine by moonlight. It appeared remarkably pure, almost sparkling in clarity.
Out of curiosity, perhaps not the wisest decision given this was an unknown magical lake—Morris brought his cupped hand to his lips and tasted the water lightly.
The flavor was crisp and clean, with absolutely no strange taste.
'A good place for swimming,' Morris thought idly: 'Although I don't actually know how to swim.'
At that moment, something changed in the water around his boat.
A huge black shadow appeared silently beneath the surface. The shadow was massive—larger than his boat, possibly twice as large. It displaced enough water that Morris could see the surface bulge slightly as it passed.
Morris's grip on the boat's edge tightened reflexively, his body was tensing. His eyes tracked the shadow with focus.
The creature swam slowly beside the fleet of boats. It neither approached directly nor moved away, maintaining consistent distance of perhaps twenty or thirty feet.
It seemed to be observing the boats from a distance.
Morris shifted his weight carefully toward the boat's center, moving slowly to avoid shaking it. He pulled his hand back from where it had been trailing in the water—he didn't want to fall into the lake with something that large swimming below.
Whether the creature was dangerous or kind, he had no way of knowing. But caution seemed prudent when dealing with unknown entities in their own environment, especially dark water when you couldn't swim.
The shadow continued its slow patrol for perhaps two or three minutes, then descended deeper into the lake. The darkness consumed it until Morris could no longer distinguish its shape.
Only then did Morris fully relax again.
When the boats reached approximately the lake's center, Morris found himself with nothing getting his attention. The castle was still too far to make out clearly, the shore they'd departed had disappeared into darkness.
With nothing else to do, he tilted his head back and began gazing at the night sky.
The stars were absolutely spectacular, away from any artificial light. The Milky Way stretched over in a river of light. Constellations he'd read about but never seen clearly were suddenly obvious.
But besides the fixed stars, Morris noticed other shapes in the night sky—darker patches moving against the star field. Their silhouettes looked like large creatures rather than bird flight.
Morris narrowed his eyes, trying to see more clearly. What were those things? Dragons? Some other flying magical creature?
Just then, a black dot suddenly appeared from behind the boats, coming from the castle's direction. At first it was just a speck against the stars.
Closer and closer, nearer and nearer...
The dot grew rapidly as it approached. Morris's eyes tracked it with focus, noting details as they became visible.
Finally, when the creature had closed perhaps half the distance, Morris could clearly make out its specific appearance.
It was a skeletal, gaunt flying horse—though "horse" felt inadequate for something so otherworldly. The creature's body was scrawny to an extreme degree, every bone was visible beneath skin so thin it was nearly translucent.
You could count each individual rib, trace the line of its spine.
But it wasn't pathetic or sad-looking despite the skeletal body. Instead, it had a strange, haunting beauty.
The creature possessed large, leathery bat-like wings, catching starlight as they beat steadily. Its head was distinctly dragon-like rather than horsey, with a narrow snout and visible teeth. Most striking were its eyes: pure white pupils that seemed to glow faintly in the darkness.
Very beautiful—that was Morris's immediate reaction. Not beautiful in a conventional sense, but beautiful in the way that perfectly adapted predators were beautiful, in the way that death itself could be beautiful when viewed with the right perspective.
This was the first time he had seen such a magical creature in person.