"Certainly," Morris replied with complete calmness
"No problem," the boy named Kyle agreed as well.
Robert smiled with satisfaction at their ready acceptance. "Excellent. Then I'll decide the content and rules of the competition. That seems fairest, as a neutral party."
He paused, then asked with interest, "Allow me to inquire—did you both happen to preview Transfiguration theory and practice during the summer holiday before term started?"
Both Morris and Kyle nodded.
"Wonderful, I see you're both confident in your preparation. Truly worthy Ravenclaw students—taking initiative in your own education," Robert said with genuine approval in his voice. His gaze casually swept over the other first-year students gathered around watching.
Two of them immediately lowered their heads in shame, their faces were flushing. They had spent the entire summer enjoying their last precious moments of freedom and play, never once thinking to crack open their textbooks early. The idea of studying before classes even started hadn't occurred to them as something people actually did.
"Then the competition will test your Transfiguration abilities," Robert announced, turning toward a table against one of the common room walls. The surface was covered with various odds and ends—everyday objects that students had apparently left lying around.
"The rules are quite simple," Robert gestured for Morris and Kyle to come forward and stand beside the table where everyone could see them clearly.
"You may choose any single item from this table to use as your starting material. Your task is to transfigure it into anything you wish. There are no restrictions on what you choose to create, so feel free to be creative and ambitious."
He continued, "The more detailed and accurate your transformation, the better your result will be judged. In the end, everyone present here will vote by show of hands to determine which transfiguration was more impressive. The winner gets the single room. Fair enough?"
Both competitors nodded their agreement. The terms seemed straightforward and impartial.
Senior students had begun gathering around with expressions of eager anticipation, forming a loose circle around the competitors. Word had apparently spread through the common room that something interesting was happening, and more students were drifting over from various corners to watch.
They knew well that students who could actually master practical Transfiguration before even starting their first year at Hogwarts were extremely rare. The subject was notoriously difficult, requiring precise wand movements, clear visualization, and strong magical focus. Most students struggled with it well into their second or third year.
In their eyes, Morris and Kyle were most likely bluffing about their abilities, or had perhaps managed one or two simple transformations during the summer and now wildly overestimated their skills. This competition would probably be entertainingly embarrassing for both participants.
"Transfiguration it is, then," Morris said softly, more to himself than anyone else.
He drew his wand from where he'd tucked it at his waist.
Morris observed the cluttered table, considering his options. Matches, quills, inkwells, a brass compass, several books, a decorative box, a silver teapot that looked quite old...
The teapot caught his attention.
He pointed his wand at the silver teapot resting near the center of the table and began the spell.
Under the watchful gaze of everyone, the teapot immediately began to transform with fluidity.
The rounded body elongated and reshaped, silver metal was flowing like liquid, becoming the draping folds of robes. The curved spout stretched and divided, extending into two arms held in a gesture of welcome. The hinged lid compressed and refined, transforming into a face—that familiar face they'd all seen.
In just ten seconds of concentrated work, a simple miniature statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood on the tabletop where the teapot had been.
Aside from a few imperfections, it was nearly identical in design and figure to the large marble statue at the common room's entrance.
"That's about all I can manage," Morris said with a slight shrug, lowering his wand.
He genuinely didn't know what skill level other students operated at, having no frame of reference for comparison, but this was indeed the best he could produce with his current understanding of Transfiguration theory and his available magical power.
Robert hurried forward immediately, his eyes were wide with surprise. He bent down to examine the miniature statue at close range, his face was only inches from it as he studied every detail.
"Remarkable," he breathed. "The level of detail, the accuracy of the proportions, the stability of the form..."
He straightened up, looking at Morris with astonishment. "This is already around second to third-year level work, Morris."
The watching Ravenclaw students, who had been expecting failure or at best a crude attempt, spontaneously erupted into genuine applause.
The senior students' faces were filled with surprise; their earlier assumptions were completely overturned. They had come expecting to witness an amusing failure, to watch two overconfident first-years embarrass themselves. Instead, they'd unexpectedly witnessed the emergence of what might be a Transfiguration prodigy.
Robert himself developed a strong interest in this new student named Morris Black.
In his experience, excellent people often shared certain common qualities: dedication, natural talent, the drive to push themselves beyond limits.
In fact, Robert himself had been capable of similar-level Transfiguration during his own first year—he'd been something of a prodigy in his time, which was part of why he'd been selected as prefect.
So, he understood from personal experience that achieving this kind of precision and stability in such a short timeframe required exceptional natural talent combined with hours upon hours of dedicated practice.
He observed the black-haired boy before him more carefully. Morris's face remained calm and composed, as if that astonishing display of Transfiguration had been nothing more than a casual gesture, barely worth mentioning.
Could Morris be deliberately hiding even more advanced ability?
Robert shook his head slightly, dismissing the speculative thought.
He turned to Kyle with a gentle, almost sympathetic expression. "Do you still wish to continue the competition? I should note that I believe Morris must have put in tremendous effort during the summer holiday to reach this level."
Kyle stared at the miniature Rowena Ravenclaw statue, his earlier confidence completely vanished.
"..."
Was there any point in even trying? His planned transfiguration seemed pathetically simple in comparison.
He was just an ordinary new student, nothing special about his magical abilities or education.
Though he had indeed previewed Transfiguration basics during the summer holidays, his practice had been limited to the absolute simplest transformations described in the textbook's first chapter. Turning a match into a needle.
Looking at the miniature statue standing on the table before him, he felt utterly powerless.
Was this guy really a first-year? Had he somehow studied for years in advance? Did he have private tutors?
"I concede," Kyle said softly.
Thus, Morris obtained the only single private dormitory as desired.
Morris put away his wand, tucking it back at his waist, and nodded politely to Robert. "Thank you."
"You've earned this through your own abilities," Robert said warmly. "Your room is on the top floor, dormitory number seven."
He paused, then added with genuine kindness in his tone, "However, I must remind you that while a single room offers peace and quiet for studying, it also means lacking roommates to look after you when you're sick or struggling with coursework. Living alone can be isolating, especially at first. If you encounter any difficulties, please don't hesitate to come find me."
"Also," Robert continued, "your luggage should arrive in about five minutes."
"I understand. Thank you for the concern," Morris replied, appreciating the genuine care behind Robert's words. His prefect seemed like quite a friendly and responsible person, not just someone who enjoyed the authority of the position.
"All right, everyone," Robert clapped his hands sharply to regain the attention of the gathered students, who were still chattering about the impressive transfiguration they'd witnessed.
"The excitement is over for tonight. You may choose to return to your dormitories and settle in, or stay here in the common room for a while longer if you'd like to socialize or read. Classes begin tomorrow, so I'd recommend getting adequate sleep. That's all—dismissed!"
The crowd began to disperse, though many students cast curious glances back at Morris as they moved toward the dormitory stairs.
It turned out that excellent people often received special attention and scrutiny, whether they wanted it or not.
This tendency was especially obvious in Ravenclaw, where academic achievement and intellectual ability were prized above all other qualities. The house naturally focused toward anyone demonstrating exceptional talent.
Morris had only just sat onto one of the comfortable sofas near the fireplace, intending to wait quietly for his luggage to arrive so he could retreat to his new room, when students from various years began approaching him one after another.
They came individually or in small groups, all wanting to chat, to ask questions, to get to know this interesting first-year who'd just demonstrated such impressive magic.
Morris had no choice but to patiently answer their various inquiries, even though he would have much preferred to be left alone with his thoughts.
Ravenclaw students seemed to particularly enjoy this sort of intellectual exchange and probing conversation. Their questions were diverse, sometimes insightful, often peculiar:
"How exactly did you learn Transfiguration to that level? Did you have a private tutor?"
"By feel, mostly. And practice with the textbook."
"What do your parents do? Are they wizards or Transfiguration specialists?"
"I'm an orphan. I don't know what my parents did."
"Oh. Sorry. Well, what's your wand made of, then?"
"Wood and... animal parts." Morris deliberately kept it vague.
A younger student who'd been listening piped up with innocent curiosity: "Are you a boy or a girl? Your voice is kind of high."
"Male..." Morris said with barely restrained patience.
Then, unexpectedly, a sweet-looking senior girl with blonde hair and an angelic smile leaned in close and asked: "So do you like boys, then?"
"?"
Morris looked up sharply to stare at the girl who'd asked this deeply inappropriate question, his expression was caught between confusion and disbelief.
Was she seriously asking an eleven-year-old first-year such a question? On his first night at school?
He couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth in suppressed incredulity.
Indeed, appearances could be spectacularly deceiving. This sweet-faced girl apparently had no sense of appropriate conversation topics for children.
After dealing with what felt like an endless parade of curious, nosy, and occasionally bizarre students, Morris finally managed to extract himself from the common room.
He climbed the stairs to the upper level, found the boys' dormitory corridor, and located dormitory number seven at the very end.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
It was a quarter-circle shaped room. Four four-poster beds with blue curtains were distributed at equal intervals along the curved outer wall, each positioned beside one of the massive arched windows that let in moonlight and offered views of the grounds.
Besides the beds, the room contained two long desks suitable for studying, a full-length mirror, a standing coat rack, and four large wooden wardrobes for storing personal belongings.
Just as Robert had said, this was clearly meant to be a standard four-person bedroom, designed for multiple students sharing the space.
However, due to the odd numbers this year, this entire room was now for Morris's sole use and enjoyment.
What a luxurious and almost sinfully extravagant amount of space for one person.
One of the beds had already been made up with white sheets and a warm-looking blanket in Ravenclaw blue. His trunk stood quietly at the foot of that bed, waiting for him.
Morris walked to the window and looked out across the darkening grounds.
The Black Lake stretched out below, its surface was rippling with reflected moonlight that created shifting patterns of silver on dark water. The moon was clearly visible, nearly full, hanging large and bright in the clear sky. The view was peaceful, calming—altogether quite pleasant.
Next, Morris opened his trunk and began the process of organizing his meager personal belongings.
Only after he'd finished this unpacking process and stood back to survey his new place did Morris suddenly realize a significant problem:
Where was Tin-Tin? His undead cat should have been delivered with his luggage, but there was no sign of it anywhere in the room.
Just then, as if summoned by his concern, a sudden commotion arose from just outside his window.
Thumping sounds, a yowl of protest, the beating of wings—
Morris stepped forward quickly and pushed open the window latch.
Two black shadows immediately flew into the room with considerable speed, nearly colliding with him.
A pitch-black owl was gripping an equally black cat firmly in its talons. The owl flew with powerful wing beats, completely in control despite its struggling cargo.
The cat was twisting its body violently and letting out long, dissatisfied howls of outrage. Its legs waved uselessly in the air. Unfortunately for the cat, the owl's talons held it securely by the scruff of its neck.
No matter how much the cat struggled, it couldn't escape or retaliate.
"Where have you two been?" Morris asked, though he could guess the general outline from what he was seeing.
Clearly, these were his pets—Tin-Tin and Sparkles.
Sparkles casually opened its talons and dropped Tin-Tin abruptly onto the carpet. The cat landed with a soft thump, rolling once before scrambling to its feet.
Sparkles called out once then twisted around in midair and dove directly into Morris's shadow, disappearing from sight. After spending who knew how long flying around the castle grounds carrying an unwilling passenger, Sparkles needed to rest and replenish its energy in that comfortable shadow-space.
Tin-Tin, meanwhile, immediately turned and bared its teeth at Morris's shadow where Sparkles had vanished. The cat growled and hissed, making threatening gestures at the ground, expressing its fury and frustration at the empty floor.
After a moment of this impotent rage, when the shadow showed no response, Tin-Tin finally dissolved into aggrieved whimpering. It flopped dramatically onto the carpet and began rolling around in exaggerated displays of suffering, its body language was screaming victimization and injustice.
The cat's thoughts were almost readable through its behavior:
It had only been taking a peaceful evening walk around the unfamiliar castle grounds, exploring its new territory and hunting for mice. Then suddenly, without warning, a bird had grabbed it from behind and carried it on an unwanted aerial tour of all of Hogwarts.
This was pure revenge!
But that wasn't even the important part of this injustice.
Tin-Tin glanced resentfully at Morris's shadow, its yellow eyes narrowed with jealous anguish.
Unfair! This entire situation was completely unfair!
As fellow pets, both serving the same master, why didn't Tin-Tin have the special ability to enter and hide in shadows?
This was blatant, inexcusable favoritism! Species discrimination! Unjust treatment!
The cat's silent complaints were almost obvious in its body language.
Morris watched this dramatic display and thought with some amusement: 'It seems they aren't getting along well at all.'
He crouched down and gently rubbed Tin-Tin's head with careful strokes. He made soothing sounds, petting the aggrieved cat for quite a while.
Only after Tin-Tin's emotions had visibly settled did Morris finally stand up, changed into the pajamas, climbed into the prepared bed, and fall into deep sleep.