"Doesn't Hogwarts' library look absolutely wonderful?" Robert introduced with some pride. He gestured broadly at the shelves surrounding them.
"The collection here is among the very best in the entire wizarding world, rivaling even the Ministry's archives. Many precious documents that can't be found anywhere outside can be found here, either as preserved copies or as original records."
"It really is quite impressive," Morris answered honestly, his eyes were scanning the vast space with appreciation. "I think I'm going to like spending time in this place very much."
Robert smiled warmly at his response and said, "Every Ravenclaw develops that same love eventually. The library becomes a second home... Ah, are you here looking for some specific materials? Research for classes, or personal interest? If you have any questions about browsing the collection, feel free to ask me anytime. I've been coming here for years."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm just here to browse around," Morris replied carefully, keeping his tone casual. "Getting familiar with what's available."
He didn't mention that he was specifically searching for the recipe for the Draught of Living Death, a dangerous, Ministry-controlled potion.
Revealing his interest in such a restricted substance to someone else, even a friendly prefect, would be asking for unnecessary trouble and scrutiny. Even though his impression of Robert was quite good, and the other person very likely already knew about this particular potion's existence and properties.
His gaze drifted to the iron gate nearby. "That's the Restricted Section, then?"
When Robert had came out earlier, Morris had noticed that iron gate had automatically locked itself behind him.
"That's right," Robert confirmed, following Morris's line of sight. "Books in there require special permission."
Morris paused thoughtfully, then asked, "If I wanted to go into the Restricted Section to find materials, what would be the proper procedure?"
Robert looked at him with surprise, his eyebrows rose slightly.
"Well, you'd just need to apply formally to a professor. As long as you have a legitimate academic reason like research for an essay, deeper study of a topic, I think most professors wouldn't refuse your request. I'd recommend asking Professor Flitwick specifically, since he's our Head of House and tends to be supportive of Ravenclaw curiosity."
Morris hesitated, then said as if casually, maintaining his innocent expression, "What if I don't have a legitimate reason?"
Robert observed him for a moment, then chuckled softly and lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning in.
"Hypothetically," he said with a knowing look, "you could come here at night instead. After hours. The lock on that gate isn't actually magically enchanted, it's just a standard physical lock. You'd only need a simple unlocking charm, Alohomora, and you can get right in."
He paused, making sure no one else was listening. "Also, I'd recommend choosing a time after midnight if possible. That's when Filch rarely continues his patrols. He's usually back in his office by then, dealing with paperwork or sleeping. It's much safer."
Morris looked at Robert with slight surprise.
It seemed their prefect was very familiar indeed with the specific process and techniques of sneaking into the Restricted Section, suspiciously familiar.
Robert was even generously passing on his accumulated experience and knowledge.
"Don't look at me like that, Morris," Robert said quickly, noticing Morris's expression. He shrugged with exaggerated innocence. "I've never personally snuck in here myself, I swear. I always have proper professors' notes when I visit."
Morris understood the unspoken message tacitly, reading between the lines.
Robert had definitely snuck in before, probably multiple times. But he wasn't obviously going to admit it.
At that moment, Madam Pince approached from deeper in the library stacks and said to Robert in her sharp voice, "Mr. Hilliard, have you found the book you wanted to borrow?"
"Yes, Madam, I have it right here," Robert responded politely, holding up the book.
"Then come this way to properly register it," she said, gesturing toward her desk.
Before leaving to follow Madam Pince, Robert winked at Morris and said casually, "Well then, Morris, I sincerely hope I won't hear any news of you losing house points for wandering the library at night. Goodbye."
Morris watched Robert's retreating figure, easily understanding that the other person was subtly reminding him and offering tacit encouragement.
Moreover, he understood something else quite clearly now.
Robert Hilliard was not someone who followed rules very strictly or cared much about regulations.
Just like Morris himself.
"An interesting person," Morris murmured to himself with a smile.
He collected his scattered thoughts and turned toward the nearest bookshelves, ready to begin his research.
Over the next week that followed, Morris spent almost all his available free time in the library when not attending classes or eating meals.
Of course, he wasn't in any particular hurry about finding the specific recipe for the Draught of Living Death. Rushing would only draw attention.
While slowly and leisurely pursuing his primary goal, working through the Potions section, he also read through many other books on completely different topics that caught his interest.
Hogwarts Library truly had almost everything imaginable, its collection was covering basically all subjects taught at the school and far beyond. The shelves even included some newly published essays and articles, poetry collections by contemporary wizard authors, memoirs, travel journals, magical theory treatises.
As Morris had mentioned before, he genuinely loved reading books. Always had in both lives.
This place was perhaps paradise for him with unlimited knowledge, comfortable chairs, quiet atmosphere.
He quickly became completely immersed in the experience, losing track of time.
And under these pleasant circumstances of reading, his progress on finding the specific recipe for the Draught of Living Death naturally moved quite slowly. But he didn't mind.
Besides his library research this week, Morris also took time to visit Hagrid one afternoon to ask about the follow-up developments regarding the centaurs and the incident in the Forbidden Forest.
According to Hagrid who spoke somewhat awkwardly, the centaur community had sent messages expressing they felt very sorry about Morris's incident with Bane. They hoped to apologize to him in person.
But Morris refused this proposal through Hagrid.
He currently had absolutely no positive feelings at all toward the centaurs as a group and even felt that such a meeting might be some kind of trap or trick.
He also asked specifically about the condition of the centaur named Bane.
Hagrid reported somewhat admiringly that it had taken a full week for Bane to heal enough from the injuries Morris had inflicted on him to resume normal activities. The combination of curses had been quite effective.
About this particular point, Morris could only think that Bane deserved every moment of suffering for his aggressive behavior and attempted kidnapping.
Mid-September arrived, Saturday night, approaching midnight.
Morris had been meditating continuously in his dormitory for three hours, sitting cross-legged on his bed in perfect stillness. Building up magical energy, clearing his mind, preparing himself mentally.
"It's about time," he finally murmured, opening his eyes.
The room was dark except for the moonlight coming through the window.
Morris stood and changed out of his pajamas into dark casual clothes, a black shirt and dark trousers that would blend with shadows. He carefully placed his wand at his waist where it could be drawn quickly, secured his coin pouch, and slipped out of the dormitory door as quietly as possible.
The moonlight outside was cold and clear. Everything looked different at night.
The Ravenclaw common room was completely quiet and empty at this late hour, with only the faint sound of wind and occasional owl hoots barely audible from outside the tower. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to embers.
Morris's destination was clear: the Restricted Section of the library.
In the Restricted Section, he might finally be able to find detailed content about the Draught of Living Death or other methods of feigning death for magical purposes.
He had been curious about that place for quite some time now, and tonight was the perfect opportunity to satisfy that curiosity.
Because he could now use the Shadow Concealment spell proficiently without speaking any incantation aloud.
Even if he encountered an unexpected situation, like running into Filch face-to-face in a corridor, Morris could relatively easily escape by merging into shadows. Unless Filch could also somehow merge into darkness like him, which seemed unlikely, Morris would be fine.
Combined with his careful observation and understanding of the castle's nighttime patrol patterns over this past week, Morris felt very confident about his chances.
Leaving the common room through the door, Morris deliberately avoided the main staircase with its dense covering of portraits that might wake and report him. Instead, he took a rarely traveled corridor along the castle's quiet north wing, moving swiftly through shadows.
He successfully circled around to reach the library's main entrance without incident.
The entrance hall inside was silent and completely empty, just as he'd hoped.
Morris walked straight across the open space to the iron gate of the Restricted Section.
Looking at the simple padlock securing the gate, Morris suddenly realized something important he'd overlooked.
Although Robert had confidently said it only needed a basic unlocking charm to open, there was one significant problem with that plan.
Morris didn't actually know the unlocking charm yet, although he knew the incantation, he was not proficient with it. Alohomora hadn't even been covered in his classes.
It was probably taught later in the year.
Fortunately, he had other methods available to solve this particular problem.
"Shadow Concealment," Morris whispered, focusing his will.
As the magic took effect, Morris felt that familiar unpleasant sensation. He was enveloped in a layer of flowing darkness, his body was instantly distorting and compressing. The world seemed to tilt and squeeze.
When he appeared again, solidifying back into normal existence, he was already standing inside the Restricted Section on the other side of the locked gate.
"Phew—" Morris exhaled heavily, steadying himself against a bookshelf.
Moving within shadows was extremely physically and mentally draining, even for short distances. If he had to describe the sensation accurately, it was like carrying someone heavy on his back while trying to advance underwater against strong current. Every movement required tremendous effort.
Fortunately, there had been no unexpected incidents during the transition.
Now then, time to get down to business.
Morris began moving deeper into the Restricted Section, scanning the shelves by wandlight. The books here looked considerably older, more worn, some bound in materials he couldn't identify.
In the process of delving deeper, exploring the shadowy aisles between shelves, Morris discovered something unexpected: a narrow stone staircase leading down into darkness.
The Restricted Section had a basement level?
That was news.
He immediately chose to descend the stairs carefully.
The staircase wasn't particularly long, only about a dozen steps spiraling down.
Below opened into a not-very-large underground room, perhaps twenty feet across. It was decorated similarly to the library upstairs with bookshelves reaching toward a low ceiling and several wooden tables for study. But everything looked considerably more ancient and neglected. An even heavier smell of musty parchment and old leather floated in the stale air.
However, none of these details about the space was the main point of interest.
The main point was: there was already someone inside!
It was a thin, tall old man. He was leaning against the wall beside one of the bookshelves, a scar was running across his neck. His gray hair was disheveled, sticking out at odd angles. His robes were stained with some kind of dirt or potion residue. And he held an open book in his hands, reading intently by wandlight.
The old man looked up at Morris's arrival.
Their eyes locked, and the air in the small room seemed to freeze solid.
Neither moved for several seconds.
"Um..." Morris steadied his breathing carefully and spoke in as natural a manner as he could manage under the circumstances. "Good evening, sir. I didn't know anyone else was here. My apologies for the intrusion. Goodbye."
Having delivered this casual greeting, he smoothly stepped back half a step, immediately planning to turn and leave up the stairs as quickly as possible without actually running.
Yes, just pretend he had never been here at all.
Time to go, right now.
Unfortunately, the mysterious old man had no intention of letting him simply leave.
"Wait!" the man said sharply.
Morris felt a sharp gaze pin itself to his back, stopping him mid-turn.