The next day arrived—Tuesday, the beginning of a new week.
This marked Morris's third full day at Hogwarts, though it felt both longer and shorter than that.
The first class scheduled in the morning was History of Magic.
This was the class Morris had been most genuinely interested in since reviewing his course schedule, more so even than Transfiguration or Charms.
Not because he was particularly interested in history as a subject as dry dates and events had never especially interested him in both life. But because he had heard from Robert and other older Ravenclaws that the professor teaching it was a ghost. An actual, literal ghost who had been teaching for centuries.
Professor Cuthbert Binns. Simply referred to as Professor Binns by students.
A living ghost! Or rather, an unliving ghost. A spirit who had somehow remained tied to the school and continued teaching long after death.
For someone like Morris, who was deeply fascinated by ghosts, undead creatures, and the mysteries of death magic, this was an absolutely irresistible temptation. A unique opportunity to observe a ghost in a lengthy, controlled setting.
After finishing his breakfast quickly, he immediately left the Great Hall and went directly to the History of Magic classroom. He wanted to arrive early, to meet this legendary ghost professor who had supposedly been teaching at Hogwarts since practically the school's founding.
The History of Magic classroom was located on the second floor, down a long corridor filled with portraits of sleeping medieval wizards. It was a very large classroom when Morris finally found it, the space was big enough to comfortably accommodate all four houses together.
The room was filled with rows of old wooden desks and benches that looked like they'd been used for generations.
But because Morris had arrived so early, it was completely empty. Not a single other student had arrived yet. And Professor Binns naturally hadn't appeared yet either.
Morris had no choice but to select a seat near the front, close enough to observe the ghost professor properly. He carefully set out his notebook and textbook on the desk, arranging them just so, and settled in to wait patiently.
The History of Magic textbook was a massive book called A History of Magic, written by a witch named Bathilda Bagshot. It was frighteningly thick, easily seven or eight hundred pages of dense text and occasional illustrations. The book supposedly covered all major magical world events from ancient times through the twentieth century.
Morris had already skimmed through it once during the summer holidays.
It must be said, the content was extremely detailed and thorough.
Just extremely boring in presentation. Dry as dust, written in an academic style that seemed designed to induce sleep rather than inspire interest.
While waiting for class to begin, Morris idly flipped through a few pages of the textbook before his attention wandered. He closed the heavy book with a soft thump. Then he closed his eyes and began to meditate.
He was already very proficient at meditation by now and could enter the state easily anytime, anywhere.
As his breathing became steady and rhythmic, his consciousness began to sink peacefully. The sensation was like sliding into a calm, still lake, the water was closing over his head, the world was fading away.
This feeling was powerfully addictive every time.
"Hey—hey—"
After some unknown amount of time, Morris felt someone tapping insistently on his wooden desk.
Tap tap tap.
He slowly opened his eyes, his consciousness rising gradually from its deep state, and saw a familiar face hovering nearby.
Bushy brown hair, bright brown eyes, an expression of mixed curiosity and disapproval.
"Is there something you need, Hermione?" Morris asked calmly, his voice still slightly distant from meditation.
Hermione placed her own massive textbook on the desk directly next to Morris's with a decisive thump. Her brow was slightly furrowed with concern or perhaps annoyance.
"I called your name several times," she said. "Why didn't you answer me? I was standing right here saying 'Morris, Morris' and you completely ignored me."
Morris didn't particularly feel like explaining the complexities of meditation to someone who clearly wouldn't understand it. He casually replied, "I fell asleep sitting up. Sorry about that."
Hermione didn't know quite what to say to that claim, her mouth began opening and closing.
Morris's appearance just moments ago though his eyes had been closed, he'd sat very straight and rigid in his seat, giving off a strange sense of tranquility and focus. That was definitely not the typical appearance of someone who'd simply dozed off.
She looked at him suspiciously for a few seconds, but ultimately didn't press further with questions. Perhaps she'd been raised to be polite about such things.
The first time they'd met at the pet shop in Diagon Alley, Morris had also completely ignored her.
Though it was rather rude behavior, perhaps that was just his personality.
"By the way, why did you come so early?" Hermione asked, changing the subject as she sat down in the seat next to Morris. She was clearly attempting small talk, trying to be friendly. "I thought I was early enough. I wanted to find a good seat near the front and review the chapter on goblin rebellions beforehand. But you're already here."
"Same reason," Morris answered briefly, not explaining.
He looked around the empty classroom and confirmed that only the two of them were present, with still nearly half an hour remaining until class actually started.
"Have you read A History of Magic yet?" Hermione asked enthusiastically, her eyes were lighting up. Clearly this was a topic she was passionate about.
"The textbook, I mean. I finished my first complete read-through over the summer holidays and I'm now making detailed notes on my second pass, cross-referencing with other sources."
She pulled out a separate notebook covered in her neat handwriting. "The perspective in those chapters on the International Statute of Secrecy was particularly interesting, completely different from the focus in Important Modern Magical History..."
"..."
Looking at Hermione talking on and on with genuine academic enthusiasm, her hands gesturing expressively, Morris felt strange.
Was this really what a normal eleven-year-old girl should be chatting about with such passion? Historical analysis and cross-referencing multiple academic sources?
Topics for girls their age should be dolls, games, maybe gossip about other students. Light, childish things.
Could it be—a sudden thought struck Morris: was she also a reincarnated person or a transmigrator like himself?
Morris made appropriate responses to her historical commentary—nodding, saying "interesting" and "I hadn't considered that" while discreetly studying her more carefully.
As time passed steadily, students began entering the classroom, filling the empty space with noise and movement.
History of Magic was somewhat special among Hogwarts classes—all four houses took the class together in one massive group, unlike most subjects which were taught to two houses at a time. The classroom quickly became crowded and increasingly noisy as friends called to each other.
Harry and Ron entered the classroom in the very last few minutes before class was set to begin. The two looked around the entire crowded room, scanning the sea of faces and colored robes, before finally spotting Morris and choosing to sit in the two seats behind him.
"Morning," Harry said as they sat in.
Morris turned around in his seat to face them properly and greeted the red-haired boy with concern, "Ron, has your leg healed properly?"
Ron placed his textbook on the desk and was momentarily stunned by the question. A flash of discomfort crossed his face, probably remembering the spider but he quickly forced on a relaxed appearance, shrugging casually.
"Oh, that? It's completely fine now," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "One night of sleep and it's pretty much fully recovered. Thanks for your concern... Morris."
He paused slightly before saying the name, Harry had told him the name.
And Fred had told him this morning over breakfast, pulling him aside, that Morris was actually the original owner of that Acromantula. The twins had only borrowed it temporarily for study. That information had come as quite a shock.
This made Ron shudder at the memory, goosebumps were rising on his arms.
Someone who looked so kind and normal and small actually kept an Acromantula as a pet. You really couldn't judge a book by its cover.
"That's good to hear," Morris nodded, appearing satisfied with the answer.
Then he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out one of the candies, still wrapped in foil. He leaned over the back of his chair and held it out to Ron.
"I'm sorry about scaring you last night with the spider. This is an apology gift. I got a whole box of these from your two brothers in trade. It tastes pretty good, has a nice butterscotch flavor, but after you eat it your tongue will turn—"
Before Morris could finish his sentence and complete his warning, Ron had already eagerly taken the candy from his hand. Without hesitation or suspicion, he immediately unwrapped the purple foil and tossed the golden-brown toffee into his mouth.
"Whah—mmph—" Ron started to say something.
He was about to ask what Morris had been trying to tell him when he suddenly felt his tongue beginning to swell uncontrollably inside his mouth.
His tongue rapidly expanded, filling his entire mouth cavity, growing larger and larger. It became impossible for him to even close his mouth properly around the swollen mass, his jaw was forced open. He could only make muffled "mmph mmph" sounds of distress and surprise.
His eyes widened like saucers, practically bulging from his head. His hands frantically flew up to cover his bulging cheeks, pressing against them, as he looked at Morris in terror and confusion.
Harry jumped in fright at the sudden transformation, nearly leaping from his chair in alarm. "Ron! Ron, your tongue! What's happening?!"
He'd never seen anything like this, Ron's tongue was enormous, hanging out.
Hermione saw Ron's comical yet pitiful appearance and was first astonished, her mouth fell open. Then her expression shifted to disapproval as she turned to Morris accusingly.
"What exactly did you give him?" she demanded, her voice was sharp with concern. "That's clearly not normal candy!"
"Uh, the side effect only lasts half a minute or so," Morris said, somewhat helpless and apologetic. He hadn't expected this reaction. "Don't worry, it's completely harmless. It'll go back to normal very soon."
How could Ron be so hasty and impulsive?
At least let him finish explaining before eating.
About thirty seconds later, as Morris had predicted, Ron's massively swollen tongue began to deflate like a punctured balloon. It rapidly shrank back down to normal size, compressing until his mouth looked ordinary again.
Ron worked his jaw experimentally.
Hermione was still somewhat dissatisfied with the whole incident, her arms were crossing defensively. She felt compelled to defend Ron from what seemed like a mean prank.
"You should have explained the side effects clearly first, Morris," she said sternly, her tone was like that of a disapproving teacher. "Even if it's just a harmless prank candy, it's irresponsible behavior to give it to someone without proper warning. He could have panicked or choked."
Before Morris could respond or defend himself, Ron himself waved his hand dismissively, cutting off Hermione's lecture.
"It's fine, really," Ron said, smacking his lips thoughtfully. He seemed to be considering the flavor. "The candy was actually pretty tasty underneath the swelling. Good butterscotch. I'd eat another one."
Compared to that horrifying Acromantula hatchling attack yesterday, a temporarily swollen tongue was absolutely nothing.
His mindset was very good right now. Things could always be worse.
And at this moment, he was more concerned about something else—
"Morris, do you know my two brothers well?" Ron asked with curiosity, leaning forward. "Fred and George, I mean. How do you know them?"
"Yes, I do know them," Morris nodded, turning to face Ron properly. "Fred and George are two decent guys. Funny, creative with good hearts."
"You're close with them?" Ron pressed, wanting more detail. "Like, friends? They mentioned you this morning but didn't explain much."
"Pretty close, I'd say," Morris answered honestly. "We met yesterday and traded some things. Got along quite well."
"I see." Ron fell into thoughtful silence.
Why would a first-year student be hanging out with Fred and George?
At that moment, Hermione suddenly realized something. Her gaze shifted between Morris, Harry, and Ron with growing suspicion and curiosity.
"Speaking of which," she said slowly, "did you three already know each other before?"
She'd noticed that Harry and Ron's attitude toward Morris wasn't like that of strangers meeting for the first time.
Harry and Ron exchanged a quick, meaningful glance.
"There was a little incident last night," Harry said vaguely, glossing over details. "We met then. Just ran into each other."
"I see," Hermione said, clearly not entirely satisfied with this non-explanation. But she didn't ask further questions, sensing they didn't want to explain.