The train took the better part of an afternoon to reach Hogwarts.
For Morris, the long journey passed surprisingly quickly. He spent most of it chatting with several overly enthusiastic upperclassmen who seemed determined to make his first trip as memorable as possible.
"Hogwarts has four houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Lee Jordan said, barely pausing for breath. "Gryffindor is obviously the best. Oh, and by the way, your entrance exam is fighting a ten-foot-tall, two-headed troll. Beat it, and you're officially allowed to study at Hogwarts."
Lee spoke with such confidence that someone unfamiliar with Hogwarts might have believed him.
Morris didn't.
He had read enough introductory books about the wizarding world to know that Hogwarts did not welcome its first-year students by throwing them into mortal combat. The four houses, however, were real, and he already had a rough understanding of what each one represented.
To be honest, he didn't particularly care which house he would be sorted into.
Even if he did care, it wouldn't make any difference. The Sorting Hat would decide for him, and no amount of personal preference would change that.
While Lee rambled on, George Weasley suddenly produced a strange-looking toffee and casually tossed it to Morris.
"Try this."
Morris hesitated for only a moment before unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. The candy tasted pleasantly sweet at first, but before he could comment on it, a strange sensation spread across his tongue.
It began to swell.
In a matter of seconds, his tongue inflated to an absurd size, pressing awkwardly against his teeth and making it nearly impossible to speak. When Morris tried to say something, all that came out was a garbled, slurred noise.
The effect lasted for roughly half a minute.
George and Fred burst into laughter, clapping their hands as though they had just witnessed a successful experiment.
"It worked!" Fred exclaimed. "The effect is stable, and the duration is perfect!"
By the time Morris's tongue finally returned to normal, he smacked his lips a few times, still tasting the faint sweetness of the candy.
"What exactly was that?" he asked.
George grinned. "Fainting Fancies. A prank product we invented. You've already seen one of the effects."
Morris raised an eyebrow. "And what's it used for?"
The twins exchanged a glance.
"For pranks," George said plainly.
Fred nodded enthusiastically. "To be honest, it's not very practical. It won't help you pass your Potions exam, and it definitely won't make your wand shine brighter. But it's fun, isn't it?"
He spread his arms wide, his face glowing with pure, unrestrained joy. "So, Morris, how about it? Want to join our Prank Club?"
Lee Jordan looked confused. "Does Hogwarts even have a club like that?"
"That's not important," Fred replied solemnly. "We just decided to form it."
Lee sighed and chose to ignore them. Lowering his voice, he leaned closer to Morris and said with poorly concealed schadenfreude, "Don't be fooled by how proud they look. These two idiots spent their revision time last semester tinkering with Fainting Fancies instead of studying. Almost all their grades came back as 'P' and 'D.'"
Even though he spoke quietly, Fred and George somehow caught the key words.
"What did you say?"
The next moment, the three of them were playfully wrestling in the narrow compartment, huffing and protesting loudly.
Morris watched the scene with mild amusement.
They really are an interesting bunch, he thought.
"Pat… pat…"
A soft, wet sound interrupted their scuffle.
At some point, a toad had hopped into the compartment and was now bouncing awkwardly across the floor.
Lee stopped short. "Hey, whose toad is this?"
Morris blinked. "You didn't bring it?"
"No way," Fred scoffed. "We'd never keep an ugly toad as a pet. They're only useful as spell-testing subjects. And can you believe they cost the same as an owl?"
The toad croaked softly, as if offended.
Poor thing, Morris thought. Even in the wizarding world, its social status is rock-bottom.
George bent down and tried to grab it.
The moment his hand got close, the supposedly clumsy toad kicked off with its hind legs and sprang upward with astonishing agility—landing squarely on George's head.
Before anyone could react, it leapt again, ricocheting around the compartment like a living projectile.
Despite three third-year students working together, they couldn't catch it.
"Wow," Morris muttered.
As expected of a magical toad. It's nothing like an ordinary one.
Suddenly, the creature changed direction and shot straight toward Morris's face.
"Wailing Curse!"
Acting on instinct, Morris cast a spell he was already familiar with.
One advantage of curse-type magic was that it automatically selected targets within range according to the caster's intent. Against a fast-moving target, it was far more reliable than precise aiming.
The instant the incantation left his lips, the toad slammed into the floor with a dull splat.
Its body trembled violently. Its limbs twitched uncontrollably, white foam bubbling at the corners of its mouth. Its bulging eyes lost their focus, leaving behind a vacant, stunned expression—the aftermath of severe mental shock.
Morris stared at it, surprised.
The spell's effect was far stronger than he had anticipated.
When he had used the Wailing Curse on Canned Food and the fireworks before, the results had been noticeably milder. Could it be that his two pets possessed a natural resistance to this type of magic?
Lee Jordan's eyes widened. He looked from the twitching toad to Morris's calm expression.
"That was awesome," he blurted out. "What spell was that? I've never heard of it. And—wait a second—did you just cast it without a wand?"
The questions came flooding out.
Fred and George crowded around immediately, their gazes fixed on Morris as if he were some rare magical specimen.
"Uh…" Morris hadn't expected such a strong reaction. "It's just a strange spell I found in an old book. I wanted to test it out. Looks like it works pretty well."
He paused, then deliberately shifted the topic. "Is casting spells without a wand really that unusual?"
The three of them fell silent.
George was the first to speak, his tone unusually serious. "Morris, only the most powerful and experienced wizards can perform wandless magic reliably."
"Maybe it was just luck," Morris said with a shrug.
Fred laughed. "I like that explanation. But come on—can you do it again? Let us see."
Morris glanced at the toad, which had finally stopped twitching but still looked dazed and miserable.
"Sure."
He extended his palm toward it, deliberately exaggerating his concentration. Then he recited a string of complete nonsense pulled from the depths of his memory.
"Upsy Daisy Makka Pakka!"
Nothing happened.
The toad remained exactly where it was, letting out a weak croak.
Morris sighed theatrically. "Guess it doesn't work."
That outcome seemed to reassure the others.
"As expected," George said, nodding. "Wandless magic isn't something a first-year should be able to use consistently."
A student who could perform stable wandless magic at that age would have been far too shocking.
Satisfied, Morris allowed the conversation to move on. He looked back at the unfortunate toad on the floor.
"So," he asked casually, "whose toad is this anyway? Is it a wild one?"
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