.
September 1st, early morning.
Today was the day Hogwarts began.
Morris had packed his luggage well ahead of time. Now, he stood quietly in front of the gate, waiting.
He wasn't carrying much—just a single suitcase and the Undead Cat cradled in his arms.
"Stupid cat," Morris muttered softly, stroking the creature's head. "Your body feels even colder than before."
Canned Food responded lazily, stretching in his arms and rubbing its head against Morris's chest, as if trying to soak up what little warmth remained.
In the pale morning light, Morris's shadow flickered strangely on the ground.
It was Fireworks.
Once again, it seemed displeased with the intimacy between Morris and Canned Food. The shadow twisted subtly, its outline warping as if sulking.
Morris could only curl his lips helplessly. He had long since given up trying to reason with it.
At that moment, a car pulled up smoothly in front of him.
"Good morning, Morris," Harold called out cheerfully as he removed his sunglasses. "How are you feeling today?"
"Sorry to trouble you, Harold," Morris replied politely, nodding his head.
Harold waved a hand dismissively, hopped out of the car, and effortlessly lifted the suitcase into the trunk. "Get in. It'll take a while to reach King's Cross Station from here."
Morris climbed into the back seat with Canned Food still in his arms. As he settled in, he noticed a small paper bag resting beside him.
Curious, he opened it.
Inside were several irregularly shaped cookies, some already cracked into uneven pieces.
"Oh, those are from my daughter's handicraft class assignment," Harold explained with a smile as he started the engine. "You can try them. They're edible—probably."
"Thank you," Morris said.
He selected one that looked relatively intact and took a cautious bite. It was very sweet, with a faint buttery aroma lingering on his tongue.
At least she hadn't gotten the recipe wrong, he thought.
The car merged smoothly into traffic as the road grew busier. As usual, Morris closed his eyes and entered a state of meditation.
At some point, this had become part of his daily routine.
He had to admit—meditation truly had the power to calm the mind.
With steady, rhythmic breathing, the noise of the outside world gradually faded. The hum of engines, the murmur of passing pedestrians, and even the faint music from the car stereo seemed to drift away.
In their place, Morris felt only the slow, flowing pulse of magic.
For him, this sensation was deeply addictive.
Watching through the rearview mirror, Harold assumed Morris had fallen asleep. He quietly reached over and lowered the volume of the music.
When Morris opened his eyes again, the scenery outside had changed. The car was already entering downtown London.
"How much longer until we arrive?" Morris asked, glancing at the increasingly dense traffic beyond the window.
Harold thought for a moment. "About half an hour. What—are you awake?"
"I wasn't sleeping," Morris replied calmly.
"Then what were you doing just now?"
"I was practicing."
Harold blinked in confusion. "Practicing… magic?"
Morris nodded slightly and returned his gaze to the city streets sliding past outside. His reflection overlapped with buildings and passing buses, creating an oddly fragmented image.
He found himself wondering again what kind of place Hogwarts truly was.
With each passing moment, his anticipation only grew.
"Do you think I could visit your school someday?" Harold suddenly asked.
"I don't know," Morris replied honestly. "But I could ask a professor for you. Though I think the chances are slim."
Harold nodded, understanding. "That makes sense. A magic school must be very different from an ordinary one."
There was a hint of disappointment in his voice.
With time still to spare, Morris shifted his focus inward, toward the Book of the Mage within his mind.
Over the past few days, it had unlocked new content.
Wailing Curse.
This newly acquired curse-type magic could generate various wailing sounds directly within a target's mind, disrupting and interfering with their spirit.
Thanks to his previous experiences, Morris didn't need to invest much effort into learning this basic curse. Constructing the Spell Model had gone smoothly.
Perhaps meditation was responsible for that.
At present, when he cast the Weakening Curse, his success rate was nearly perfect.
As for the Wailing Curse, it had already exceeded a fifty-percent success rate.
"Wailing Curse."
A wisp of nearly imperceptible black gas seeped from Morris's right palm and instantly vanished—entering his own body.
He had only tested this curse on animals before: birds, stray cats, and small creatures.
This was his first time using it on a human.
Almost immediately, a piercing howl erupted inside his mind.
It was as if countless malicious spirits were screaming, crying, and wailing all at once.
The sound echoed violently within his skull, overlapping and multiplying until it became unbearable.
Morris instinctively clamped his hands over his ears.
It did nothing.
The noise did not weaken in the slightest. This curse acted directly upon the spirit; physical barriers were meaningless.
His teeth clenched as he struggled to remain conscious.
The level of spiritual interference far exceeded his expectations. No wonder the Book of the Mage classified it as an "Interference Spell."
After roughly ten seconds, the howling began to fade.
The sudden silence felt almost unreal.
Morris exhaled sharply. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, his breathing slightly unsteady.
Testing one's own magic was clearly necessary.
Though the process was unpleasant—bordering on torturous—it proved that the spell's effects were genuine and potent.
"What's wrong?" Harold asked, glancing back with concern.
"Nothing," Morris replied, wiping the sweat away. His tone remained calm. "Just a bit of motion sickness."
He looked up and realized the car had stopped.
"We're here," Harold said, pointing toward a nearby building. "Want me to go in with you?"
"No need," Morris shook his head. "Goodbye, Harold."
Dragging his suitcase and holding the cat securely, Morris walked into the station.
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters… Platform Nine and Three-Quarters…"
He murmured under his breath while scanning the signs.
Finally, he stopped between Platform Nine and Platform Ten.
There was an oddly abrupt barrier wall wedged between them.
Just then, a girl with thick, bushy brown hair rushed forward and disappeared straight into the wall. Morris only caught a fleeting glimpse of her back before she vanished.
That must be the entrance.
Nearby, an adult couple stood frozen in place, staring at the barrier in shock.
For some reason, Morris felt they looked familiar.
As he approached, the man smiled warmly. "Ah—you're that child we met earlier in Diagon Alley!"
Morris paused warily. "I don't know you."
Then, after a closer look, faint memories surfaced. "Oh. You're Gra… Gra… Gra…"
"Granger," the man supplied with a helpless chuckle.
"Good morning, Mr. Granger," Morris greeted politely. "Could you move aside? I need to go through."
The Grangers quickly realized they were blocking the barrier and stepped away.
Morris nodded once, said nothing more, and pulled his luggage straight toward the wall.
As he passed through, he faintly heard Mr. Granger whisper in surprise, "Isn't that child a bit… strange?"
Morris didn't hear the rest.
The world shifted.
He emerged onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The space opened up before him, filled with steam and noise. A scarlet steam engine stood proudly beside the platform, thick white smoke billowing upward.
A sign hung prominently at the front:
Hogwarts Express.
Classic, Morris thought.
Without hesitation, he adjusted his grip on the suitcase, secured the Undead Cat in his arms, and boarded the train.
Hogwarts awaited.