Although he had no alarm clock or any magical means of timekeeping in his room, Morris's fixed routine habits from years of living in an orphanage allowed him to wake quite early regardless. His internal clock was remarkably reliable—a skill developed through necessity when missing breakfast meant going hungry.
After a quick washing up in the adjoining bathroom which was surprisingly well-equipped with hot running water, Morris glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only six o'clock in the morning.
According to the information Robert had provided yesterday, breakfast at Hogwarts didn't start until seven-thirty at the earliest, giving Morris a full ninety minutes of free time before he needed to think about food or other students.
Tin-Tin was nowhere to be seen in the dormitory, having presumably slipped out through the window at some point during the night or early morning. The window was partly open, letting in fresh air.
Morris wasn't particularly worried about his wandering cat. Although Tin-Tin was undeniably mischievous and had a playful streak that got it into trouble, the undead creature was remarkably intelligent for a cat—intelligent enough to always find its way back home, or in this case, back to Morris's room.
Plus, it was already dead, so most ordinary dangers couldn't harm it.
So, what should he do with this precious quiet time on his first morning at Hogwarts?
The answer came immediately.
"The Mage's Book," Morris murmured, focusing his will.
With his silent invocation, the phantom tome slowly appeared in his mind.
As usual, Morris began checking through the book's unlocked contents, reviewing what he already knew while looking for anything new. The book had been steadily revealing more material as time passed, so he'd learned to check it regularly.
Today, his routine examination yielded results.
A brand-new chapter had appeared on the pages.
The title made him pause: "The Gate Between Two Realms."
The name had an inexplicably ominous tone to it. The kind of thing that appeared in dark fairy tales, usually leading nowhere good.
Below the title, the description consisted of only a single cryptic line: "To enter the gap between life and death."
Morris frowned at the vagueness. The gap between life and death? What did that even mean? A literal physical location, or a metaphorical state of being?
The specific magical content was presented as a complex diagram. It bore some visual similarity to the undead creature transformation circle he'd already used successfully, with the same general structure of concentric rings and dense symbolic notation.
However, the runes inscribed in the center of this new circle were completely different.
Most striking was the final warning written at the bottom of the page: The Gate Between Two Realms must be used in a state of death.
Seeing this explicit instruction, Morris couldn't help but furrow his brow.
Use it in a state of death? That phrasing didn't sound good at all. In fact, it sounded explicitly terrible.
Did it mean he would need to die first, actually die, before activating this magic? Or did it mean something else, some technical definition of "death" that differed from the biological reality?
Either way, the implications were troubling.
Morris was a mage who studied necromancy. But he had absolutely no intention of personally becoming undead or experiencing death firsthand. Not now, not for many decades if he could help it.
This reminded him of what that romantic ghost had said yesterday evening—that if you must die, at least choose a romantically poetic way to do it.
Perhaps dying in pursuit of magical research, wouldn't be such a bad fate?
No, no, no!
Morris quickly shook his head vigorously, physically trying to dislodge this dangerous line of thinking.
He was eleven years old, had barely started learning real magic, and already thinking about acceptable ways to die? That was ridiculous.
It seemed this particular spell whatever The Gate Between Two Realms actually did would have to wait indefinitely. He mentally sent it away as "extremely dangerous, do not attempt for now" and let out a soft sigh of frustration mixed with relief.
What kind of place could "the gap between life and death" possibly be? Another dimension? The afterlife itself?
Being unable to satisfy his burning curiosity left Morris with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling, like being tickled by a persistent feather that he couldn't brush away. The not-knowing itched in his mind.
But some knowledge, he reminded himself firmly, came with too high a price. Better to remain ignorant than to die finding out.
Forcibly suppressing his curiosity through mental discipline, Morris steadied his breathing and shifted position on the bed, settling into a more comfortable meditation posture.
He had discovered through months of experimentation that regular meditation not only significantly improved his success rate when casting the curse-type magic from the Mage's Book, but also helped tremendously with learning and mastering Hogwarts-style magic. The mental clarity, the improved focus and concentration—all of it rendered directly into better spellwork.
This enhanced learning ability was precisely why he'd been able to master that Transfiguration spell so quickly.
Morris closed his eyes, regulated his breathing to the slow rhythm he'd perfected, and sank into the familiar meditative state. The outside world faded.
After about an hour of deep meditation, Morris gradually surfaced back to normal consciousness and opened his eyes.
The brief session had been enough to completely clear his mind, washing away the lingering unease about The Gate Between Two Realms and leaving him feeling balanced and prepared for the day ahead.
Outside the arched windows, the sun had fully risen above the horizon. Morning had well and truly arrived. The outline of the distant Forbidden Forest appeared particularly distinct in the golden morning light.
Morris rose from the bed, stretched to work out the stiffness from sitting still, and donned his school robes.
He decided to explore the castle a bit before breakfast, to familiarize himself with the layout and perhaps discover some interesting locations. Getting lost on his first day of classes would be embarrassing.
When Morris pushed open his dormitory door and stepped into the corridor, he unexpectedly encountered a gray-white ethereal figure drifting aimlessly near the stairs.
It was a female ghost he hadn't seen at the feast last night—wearing what looked like medieval-era robes, with long hair that floated around her face.
"Good morning," Morris said politely, attempting to initiate conversation. Perhaps she could provide useful information about the castle's layout.
But the female ghost merely glanced at him with hollow eyes, her gaze was sliding past him as if he were barely worth acknowledging. Without a word or any sign of interest, she silently sank down through the stone floor.
Apparently, she had no interest in conversation.
Morris shrugged indifferently at this casual dismissal and continued walking down the stairs toward the common room. Not all ghosts were as friendly as Nearly Headless Nick, it seemed. Some seem to prefer solitude even in death.
The Ravenclaw common room was still very quiet and peaceful in the early morning. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and sunlight streamed through the tall windows.
Only two people occupied the space: Prefect Robert and another older student Morris didn't recognize. They stood together by one of the windows, speaking in low voices, both holding their wands loosely in hand as if prepared to demonstrate something.
As Morris descended the final stairs, he vaguely caught fragments of their conversation—words like "dark magic," "hexes," and "curses" were drifting across the room.
His interest was immediately piqued. What were they discussing that involved such topics?
Perhaps noticing Morris's approach and his attention, Robert looked up quickly. His face shifted smoothly into a warm, welcoming smile. "Morris! You're up early. Did you sleep well in your new room?"
"The beds at Hogwarts are more comfortable than I imagined they'd be," Morris replied honestly as he approached their position by the window. The mattress had been genuinely luxurious compared to the children's home cots. "Far better than what I'm used to. What were you two discussing?"
"Last year's O.W.L. examinations," Robert responded without missing a beat, his tone was casual. "I didn't manage to get Outstanding grades in all my subjects, which is a bit regrettable. If only I could take the exams over again and improve my scores."
Morris's keen observation detected the slight unnaturalness in Robert's tone.
But Morris simply nodded acceptingly. "Examinations are indeed very important for future opportunities."
He had no intention of prying into other people's secrets, no matter how curious he might be about what they'd really been discussing.
The other student gave Robert a significant look and cleared his throat. "We really need to get to the library soon to secure decent seats before the morning rush. The best study tables fill up quickly."
"Time is always pressing when you have this much to study," Robert agreed quickly, tucking his wand into his robes. He turned back to Morris. "Well, I should let you get to breakfast. Enjoy your first day of classes, Morris. If you need any help navigating the castle, don't hesitate to ask older students."
"Thank you. Goodbye, Robert."
"Goodbye."
After bidding farewell to the two older students, Morris exited the Ravenclaw common room himself, heading in a different direction.
He retraced yesterday's route, making his way through corridors he was beginning to recognize, until he reached the grand staircase that connected the castle's various floors.
When Robert had guided the first-years through the castle yesterday evening, Morris hadn't really paid close attention to the staircases themselves. He'd been too focused on other details—the portraits, the overall layout, trying to memorize the route.
Now, examining them properly in the morning light, these staircases seemed to have literally come alive. They moved with apparent sentience, changing directions at will right before his eyes, completely independent of any visible mechanism or control.
A staircase that had just been leading clearly and obviously to the first floor suddenly detached from its landing with a grinding sound and swung toward a completely different direction, settling into place at a new location.
Another set of steps kept slowly rotating like a carousel, never staying still long enough to safely board. Some stairs even disappeared completely just as Morris was preparing to step onto them.
Morris considered this a purely malicious design choice on the part of whoever had enchanted the castle. There was no practical reason for stairs to behave this way except to confuse and frustrate the students trying to navigate them.
It seemed his ambitious castle exploration plan would have to be postponed indefinitely. Just navigating these treacherous staircases to reach his classes would waste a tremendous amount of time and energy, especially until he learned their patterns.
Just as one staircase drifted into position before him, looking stable enough to trust— nd Morris prepared to quickly step forward before it could move again, a familiar voice called out from behind him.
"If I were you, I wouldn't take that particular staircase." The voice was crisp, confident with a hint of warning. "The one that actually goes down to the first floor is on your right, three staircases over."
Morris withdrew his extended foot hastily and turned toward the source of the advice. "Oh, thank you for the warning, Hermione. You likely saved me from a long detour."
Hermione Granger stood not far away on the same landing, holding a thick book against her chest—already studying even before breakfast, apparently.
Her hair was neatly brushed, and her robes were perfectly arranged. She was frowning slightly as she watched the moving staircases with an expression of intense concentration, as if trying to decode their movements.
"These stairs will always behave like this, it's not a temporary enchantment," she explained matter-of-factly. "I suggest you memorize their movement patterns as soon as possible. There actually is a consistent pattern to their rotations, it just requires careful observation over time to identify it."
"Very sound advice," Morris said appreciatively. "Have you already memorized how they all move?"
"Most of them, yes," Hermione replied, and her tone carried an unmistakable hint of pride in her accomplishment.
"That's genuinely impressive," Morris said with sincere admiration. The dedication required to map staircase patterns before classes even started was remarkable.
Hermione smiled at the compliment, her eyes were crinkling with pleasure.
No one dislikes sincere praise, and she was no exception. Even if the praise came from someone she didn't particularly.
"So, have you already had breakfast?" Morris continued. "I was just heading down to the Great Hall."
"Yes, I ate early," Hermione adjusted the heavy book in her arms and said with excitement, "Actually, I'm preparing to go straight to the Charms classroom to review the material before our first lesson. This is the first time I've ever been so excited about attending a class! Real magic, taught by actual professors!"
"I share the enthusiasm," Morris replied casually. He could understand her excitement even if he didn't quite match her intensity. Magic was certainly worth being excited about.
Just as he was about to step onto the staircase Hermione had indicated would take him to the first floor, it suddenly lurched and began detaching from the landing with an ominous grinding sound.
Morris hastily pulled his foot back, nearly losing his balance.
"What a pity, you missed the window," Hermione said. "Just wait another half minute or so. According to the pattern I've observed, this staircase will rotate back to this position very soon. It's on a fairly short cycle."
Morris withdrew his dangling foot, standing safely on solid landing, and sighed somewhat helplessly at the castle's inconvenient design.
Just then, one of the other rotating staircases nearby slowly docked at their landing with a solid thunk of stone meeting stone. Three female students came walking up the steps, chattering away energetically to each other about something that had them all giggling.
From their red and gold robes and their young appearances, Morris identified them as Gryffindor first-years.
"Did you really see it with your own eyes? That portrait that talks back when you ask it questions?"
"Of course I saw it! The woman in the painting even bowed to me when I said good morning..."
"That's so strange! I wonder if all the paintings can talk?"
They seemed to be enthusiastically discussing interesting discoveries they'd already made about Hogwarts.
How energetic they were, Morris couldn't help but think as he watched them approach.
This scene made him recall his own student days from his previous life. How nostalgic those memories felt now, viewed from this strange second childhood.
Now he was already a 'pitiful' adult trapped in a child's body—at least in terms of his soul.
The three female students walked cheerfully in their direction, still chattering and laughing together.
As they passed directly by Hermione, she smiled and greeted them in a friendly tone: "Good morning!"
However, the three girls only gave Hermione the slightest of nods before quickly walking past her without slowing down or responding.
The smile on Hermione's face froze slightly.