Mid-August.
Two weeks had passed since the birth of the undead owl, Sparkles.
On a sunny, pleasant morning, Morris sat cross-legged on his bed.
Sunlight streamed through the window onto him. His breathing was steady, his chest was rising and falling regularly, his entire body was radiating an inexplicable sense of tranquility.
"Hey, Morris," came Scott's confused voice from the lower bunk, "you've been in that position for half an hour now. What exactly are you doing?"
Morris slowly opened his eyes, his silver-gray pupils appearing exceptionally clear. "I already told you—I'm meditating."
"But you're just sitting there doing nothing. Don't your legs fall asleep?" Scott clearly didn't understand.
To be honest, they did.
Morris could already feel his thighs cramping a bit.
Perhaps next time he meditated, he should try a different position.
Seeing it was about time; he climbed down from his bed. His legs buckled, and he nearly crashed into the nearby table.
"So, what's the point of this?" Scott pressed.
Morris gently worked his numb legs, feeling the prickling sensation of blood flowing back through them.
"It helps you concentrate more easily," he explained. "It's quite useful. You could try it. It's simple—first, empty your mind, then..."
"Never mind, never mind." Scott pursed his lips, cutting Morris off.
Getting a child to sit still and motionless for half an hour was impossible.
Morris shrugged.
In truth, the "meditation" he spoke of wasn't merely a practice—it was one of the spells recorded in the Mage's Book.
Regular meditation could significantly improve his concentration and directly affect the precision and success rate of his spellcasting.
Now, Morris's success rate with the Weakness Curse had reached nearly fifty percent.
This was no small encouragement for him.
He now had at least some combat capability.
At the very least, if he encountered a mugger on the street, he wouldn't be completely helpless.
Judging from Harold's state after being cursed, the spell's effect was quite impressive—it could almost completely incapacitate an adult.
"I'm going out to play." Scott pulled a small knife from under his pillow and deftly tucked it into his waistband. "Want to come?"
Morris shook his head and pulled two fifty-pence coins from his pocket. "Get me two chocolate bars. Keep the change."
Scott's eyes lit up as he nimbly caught the tossed coins. "That's just like you, Morris—so generous."
"Remember to go to that shop on the next street over. I like the ones from there."
Scott made a no-problem gesture and bounced out the door.
'Kids really do have energy,' Morris thought.
Walking to the next street alone would take nearly an hour.
Well then, the dormitory would finally be quiet.
Morris pulled out the suitcase from under his bed and retrieved his wand.
These past few days, he'd also tried out some of the spells from the Hogwarts textbooks.
"Lumos!"
Morris flicked his wand, and a soft white light appeared at its tip.
"..."
The spell worked smoothly.
Seeing this, he stroked his chin.
Though he'd successfully cast the spell again, something felt off.
Why was this magic completely different from what he'd learned in the Mage's Book?
To cast this Lumos spell, he only needed to make precise gestures with his wand, concentrate, and clearly recite the incantation.
While there were some minor details involved, the most important thing was that casting this spell didn't require constructing a spell model at all!
According to the Spell Book, that should be the most crucial step in casting magic.
Perhaps the two magic systems were simply different?
That was Morris's only guess.
Still, this wasn't a bad thing.
Being able to use magic more easily—why not?
If every spell really required constructing a spell model, that would be truly headache-inducing.
Morris opened The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 that he'd bought in Diagon Alley and began flipping through it.
Inside were various basic spells, such as "Wingardium Leviosa" for levitating objects, and the unlocking charm "Alohomora."
Notably, most of their incantations seemed to follow a pattern.
They were somewhat like Latin or Greek.
This was yet another way they differed completely from the magic in the Mage's Book.
The spells in the Mage's Book didn't belong to any language Morris knew.
That language possessed a mystical power, as if it were naturally constructed for magic itself.
Morris continued flipping through the book with interest, discovering that it meticulously marked the correct wand movements and pronunciation points for each spell.
"Very convenient," he nodded slightly.
These spells should all be easy to learn.
Just as Morris was trying out other spells, Tin-Tin somehow appeared outside the window.
"Where have you been lately?"
Morris let Tin-Tin into the room and patted its head.
He hadn't seen this foolish cat for several days.
"Meow~"
Tin-Tin nuzzled Morris's palm, burrowed into his arms, and purred contentedly.
"Looks like you've been having fun."
Morris gently groomed the fur on Tin-Tin's back, and Tin-Tin immediately closed its eyes in comfort.
Though Tin-Tin was happy, someone else wasn't pleased.
Sparkles leaped from Morris's shadow, landing lightly on the table in front of him.
"Awoo!"
It shrieked, spreading its wings and striking a threatening pose toward Tin-Tin.
Startled, Tin-Tin raised its head and glared back at Sparkles without backing down, a warning growl rumbled in its throat.
The two undead creatures faced off, leaving Morris somewhat amused.
"Alright, alright, go play somewhere else."
To appease the jealous Sparkles, Morris set down Tin-Tin and returned to studying his textbook.
The two little creatures jumped onto Scott's bed and began roughhousing.
It looked like his poor roommate would need to wash his sheets again...
Morris silently apologized to Scott.
He stood up to close the window but suddenly froze.
A pair of large, round eyes had appeared outside the window at some point, staring straight at him.
It was an unfamiliar owl.
The owl tilted its head slightly, then a letter was dropped into Morris's hand.
"This is..."
The sender written on the envelope was none other than: Ezra Flick.
Morris immediately opened the envelope.
[Dear Customer, the item you inquired about is not for sale and cannot be sold.
However, if you're interested in other items, I have a sales list for your reference.
All products are guaranteed quality. If you wish to purchase, please enclose payment with your reply, and the owl will deliver the goods.
Respectfully, Ezra Flick.]
After a quick scan, Morris felt somewhat disappointed.
Based on this reply, buying that skeleton was impossible for now.