The next morning.
Under normal circumstances, mornings at the orphanage were free time for the children. But since yesterday's efforts to clear the yard had been almost entirely unproductive, the children were once again summoned outside to continue the tedious work.
Morris, however, didn't care much. He could always find a way to slack off, as usual. Occasionally, he entertained himself by teasing his Undead Cat, Canned Food. Although it was hardly different from a normal cat, it had one advantage: speed. It could easily escape whenever the stray cat pack attempted an ambush.
Why was it targeted by the stray cats? There was no helping it—the cat was mischievous. Morris had long since understood its temperament. Whenever it saw stray cats or other animals outside, it would provoke them without fail. It stole food, yanked tails, and even once pushed the stray cat pack's leader, who was sound asleep, into a puddle. Frankly, it deserved everything it got.
"Mr. Black."
The sudden voice snapped Morris out of his thoughts. He turned and saw a middle-aged man standing in the yard. The man's gaze was fixed on him, clearly addressing him, because Morris was the only person there with the surname Black.
Yet, he didn't immediately recognize him. Wait… after a few seconds of scrutiny, Morris's eyes narrowed as he pieced it together. The man was typical of middle age: overweight, a bloated figure, and a thinning crown of hair meticulously combed over what little remained. Hair loss always looked tragic on a man of his age—but thankfully, Morris didn't have that worry yet.
"Mr. Black," the man called again, "please come here."
"Okay, Mr. Green," Morris replied promptly, jogging over. He had recognized him—Harold Green, the head of the orphanage. Morris recalled meeting him only once, last Christmas, but he remembered the slightly old-fashioned name well enough to avoid calling him incorrectly.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Green?" Morris asked politely, already calculating why the headmaster would summon him. He hadn't caused any recent trouble, nor had he ever actively made mistakes.
Harold squinted at him, small eyes sunken into his face, sizing him up. "If I remember correctly, Mr. Black, you're going to secondary school this year. Which one?"
"Northwood Comprehensive Secondary School, sir," Morris replied cautiously.
As he had suspected, this was about schooling. As an orphan who had recently received a letter of admission from Hogwarts, a Hogwarts professor would certainly visit to manage enrollment formalities. Harold had clearly received the notice as well but wanted confirmation. Morris chose the safest answer.
Harold nodded slightly, though unease flickered across his face. "Then… do you have any other thoughts? A representative from another school asked whether you would consider attending their school instead."
"Which school?"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Harold said, his expression subtly shifting.
Morris felt a spark of excitement. This day had finally arrived. Harold led him into the drawing room, and as he entered, he noticed a woman dressed peculiarly standing by the wall, seemingly examining a cheap printed landscape painting. It was immediately obvious: she was from Hogwarts.
Harold led him closer, allowing Morris to observe the woman carefully. She appeared older, yet full of energy. Her hair was tightly pulled into a bun, and she wore a dark robe that fit her slender frame perfectly.
"This is Professor McGonagall," Harold introduced, his relief visible after completing the task.
Professor McGonagall gave a small nod, her sharp eyes fixing on Morris. Surprisingly, he didn't feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
"I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said, her voice calm and steady. "Hello, Mr. Black."
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Morris replied politely. "I saw your name in the letter."
The corners of McGonagall's mouth lifted slightly in approval. "Then you must have read the letter and have some understanding of Hogwarts."
"Yes, but only that it's a school called Hogwarts," Morris admitted.
"Very good." McGonagall nodded, satisfied. She explained succinctly:
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry teaches young witches and wizards how to use magic responsibly. According to our records, you have reached the age of eleven and have demonstrated magical talent, making you eligible for admission."
She briefly outlined the basics of Hogwarts life and emphasized the importance of learning magic for young witches and wizards.
"Are you willing to attend Hogwarts?"
"Of course, Professor," Morris answered naturally, with no reason to refuse.
Harold, standing nearby, looked slightly bewildered. Even though he had accepted the reality of magic when he first heard of it, hearing a serious, upright woman talk about "using magic" still seemed absurd. He couldn't help but wonder if he had gone mad the night before. He hadn't, of course.
"Mr. Green?"
Harold blinked, realizing both of them were staring at him. "Wh… what is it?" he stammered, nervously wiping his forehead.
Professor McGonagall's face returned to seriousness. "Mr. Green, since Mr. Black has agreed to enroll, I need some basic information about him. This will help us prepare for his arrival and make the necessary arrangements. Mainly, we need details about his daily habits and general behavior. There's no need to be nervous."
Harold forced a smile. "Please, go ahead, madam."
Easy to say, but anyone witnessing a woman who could transform a chair into a pig and back without changing her expression would find it hard to remain calm. Harold felt his rational worldview, the one he had spent decades building, teeter on the edge of collapse.
Professor McGonagall began her questions systematically. "Does he have any allergies or medical conditions?"
Harold rattled off a few common issues, like minor colds and occasional headaches, which Morris barely noticed.
"Does he have any behavioral tendencies we should know about?"
"Hmm…" Harold hesitated. "He's… spirited, independent, and sometimes mischievous, but he's polite and obedient most of the time. He adapts quickly."
Morris internally smirked. She wouldn't know the half of it.
"And his daily routine?" McGonagall asked, jotting notes with meticulous precision.
Harold described the orphanage schedule: waking up early, cleaning duties, meals, and study time. McGonagall nodded, occasionally asking clarifying questions.
Finally, she turned to Morris directly. "Do you have any specific needs or preferences we should accommodate?"
Morris considered briefly. "Not particularly, Professor. I can adapt."
"Very well," she said, closing her notebook. Her gaze softened slightly. "Hogwarts will provide everything you need. You will be sorted into a house, attend classes, and live in the castle. It is a place for growth and learning, and it is expected that every student contributes to the community."
Morris's heart raced with excitement. This was the start of a new life, a world entirely different from the orphanage and ordinary school. Magic, spells, enchanted creatures… it was all waiting for him.
Harold, still uneasy, watched as McGonagall's professional demeanor and precise instructions filled the room. He realized this was no ordinary school. This was a place where the impossible was ordinary, and the rules of the natural world were rewritten daily.
Professor McGonagall finally stood, her eyes locking with Morris's once more. "You have potential, Mr. Black. Use it wisely. Hogwarts expects discipline, effort, and responsibility. But it is also a place of opportunity. I trust you will rise to the challenge."
"Yes, Professor," Morris said, a determined gleam in his eye.
Harold Green exhaled deeply, relieved that the interaction had gone smoothly. He had no idea what lay ahead for Morris, but he sensed that the boy was about to enter a life that would challenge him in ways beyond imagination.
As McGonagall bid farewell and prepared to depart, Morris felt a thrill of anticipation. Hogwarts awaited, a school where magic wasn't just a story, but a tangible, everyday reality. And for the first time in his life, he truly felt that he belonged somewhere extraordinary.
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