Seeing Morris's genuinely bewildered and confused expression, his face showing nothing but perplexity and no trace of mockery, Draco's pale face stiffened for a moment before transforming rapidly through surprise to annoyance.
In Draco's view, the other party standing in front of him was either putting on an insulting act to mock him or simply didn't care about the earlier conflict in the stands at all.
But either possibility, made him feel extremely displeased and insulted.
"You embarrassed me in front of everyone, you Ravenclaw git," Draco said coldly, his voice was dripping with venom and contempt. "As a Slytherin, as a Malfoy, I cannot and will not tolerate what you did to me in those stands."
The memory of falling at Morris's feet still burned in his mind like acid.
Hearing this absurd, self-centered reasoning, Morris simply shrugged with casual, complete indifference that infuriated Draco further. "Then your tolerance is truly remarkably narrow and fragile. You might want to work on that character flaw."
"It's not your place to judge me or lecture me about character, Mudblood!" Draco spat the slur like it was poison on his tongue.
He turned his head sharply and gave a meaningful look to the two large lackeys standing behind him like trained dogs. "Crabbe, Goyle, hold him down firmly. Now. Don't let him move."
At this moment, Draco was feeling very confident, almost gleeful with expected victory.
The other party had actually walked alone to such a secluded corner of the grounds, away from witnesses and professors—it was a perfect opportunity delivered right to his doorstep on a silver platter.
Fate and fortune were clearly on his side today.
So, what if this Ravenclaw was decent with the Summoning Charm? That was just one single trick, one spell.
Three against one, this was an overwhelming advantage with no suspense about the inevitable outcome.
Whether in numbers or physical size and mass, Draco held the undeniable upper hand.
Crabbe and Goyle were both significantly larger than the average first-year, almost the size of third-years.
He had already rehearsed and visualized the upcoming scene repeatedly in his mind with great satisfaction: Morris would be pinned down firmly to the ground by Crabbe and Goyle, unable to struggle or reach his wand, completely helpless. Meanwhile, he himself would personally teach the other party what respect meant.
Of course, he wouldn't do anything too excessive or permanent that might leave obvious evidence or require the hospital wing.
He wasn't stupid, after all.
After all, the boy was just a Mudblood, beneath his serious attention or risk.
As for the possibility of Morris reporting this incident to the professors afterward?
Draco had already considered that angle very carefully during his planning.
Without being caught red-handed in the act by a professor, without causing irreparable physical harm that would require Madam Pomfrey's intervention, and without reliable witnesses, with nothing concrete at all—the professors would have no way to punish him or even prove anything had happened.
He wanted this presumptuous git to know clearly that even within the school, there were people who absolutely should not be provoked under any circumstances!
As Crabbe and Goyle cracked their large knuckles menacingly and advanced step by step, Morris let out a gentle sigh.
So, this was what people called school bullying in practice?
This was genuinely the first time in either of his lives, past and present that he'd encountered such a thing directly, even in a magic school.
It felt... somewhat novel from an observational and anthropological standpoint, yet simultaneously somewhat disgusting and deeply disappointing.
Morris tilted his head slightly, assessing the situation.
To be completely fair and objective, if he were an ordinary first-year student, these two relatively large figures advancing on him might look rather intimidating and threatening.
Especially since standard first-year students didn't know any combat magic at all, not even basic defensive spells.
They'd be helpless against physical attacks.
But Morris was different from standard students in almost every way.
If he wanted to, he could turn them into bloody sieves with dozens of razor-sharp bone spikes in an instant, before they could even reach him or touch him.
Of course, actually doing that was completely impossible and utterly unthinkable, unless he wanted to spend most of his remaining life rotting in prison.
He wondered briefly, if the wizarding world had juvenile protection laws or if they just threw children in with adult criminals and Dark wizards.
While Morris was lost in these wandering, somewhat dark thoughts, Crabbe and Goyle were already only two steps away from him.
Crabbe's hand was even reaching directly toward Morris's face to grab him by the collar.
Morris snapped back to full attention and said extremely quickly to Crabbe: "Allow me to remind you gentlemen that you've got Fwooper droppings on your trousers."
Crabbe: "...?" His face showed complete confusion and alarm.
Goyle: "...!" His eyes went wide.
The two boys instinctively looked down at their own trousers in unison, which were in fact perfectly clean without any stains at all.
Wait a moment, where would there even be Fwoopers at Hogwarts? Those weren't kept here, were they?
In the brief moment they were distracted by this absurd claim, looking down and processing the information, Morris had already moved back several quick steps, creating considerable distance between them.
"He tricked you, you idiots! Don't let him get away!" Draco shouted from his position behind them with frustration and disbelief at their stupidity.
His two lackeys truly weren't very bright at all. This was embarrassing to watch.
Crabbe and Goyle came to their senses slowly, their faces were flushing with embarrassment and anger at being fooled so easily by such a simple trick. With furious grunts of determination, they lunged even more fiercely at Morris, determined not to be tricked again.
However, Morris had no intention of running away like frightened prey.
He stood his ground and pointed up calmly, saying in a casual tone: "Look above you, gentlemen. There's quite a surprise waiting. You really should see this."
Though they'd been fooled once already just seconds ago and should have learned their lesson, Crabbe and Goyle couldn't help but instinctively look up at his confident, assured tone.
Perhaps he was telling the truth this time?
This time, however, Morris wasn't lying or wrong, there really was something hovering above their heads.
Several pale, grotesque bone spikes were suspended in midair at this very moment, glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Each spike was as thick around as their calves.
"What is this thing?" Crabbe said in his muffled, slow voice, his tone confused, while Goyle's face was also full of confusion and alarm.
Neither could process what they were seeing.
The next moment, before they could react or dodge or even understand, the bone spikes moved with swiftly.
With a sharp whistling sound that cut through the air like arrows, they plummeted straight down toward the two boys with speed and precision.
"Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!"
Heavy impacts merged into one thunderous sound as dirt and grass debris flew everywhere in a shower, creating small craters.
The bone spikes landed in a perfect circle around the two boys with precision, embedding themselves deep into the soft ground. They enclosed Crabbe and Goyle completely in the middle, trapping them inside like animals.
But the impressive display wasn't over yet.
Immediately after, just as the boys were beginning to process what had happened, a massive bone plate appeared abruptly in the air directly above them, like a coffin lid or prison ceiling. It crashed down with a resounding metallic "clang", fitting seamlessly and perfectly over the top of those vertical bone spikes.
The fit was perfect, leaving no gaps.
In the blink of an eye, barely two or three seconds from start to finish, a simple but highly effective cage made entirely of conjured bone was complete.
Crabbe and Goyle stood dumbfounded inside the bone cage, their minds went completely blank with shock and confusion and growing fear. Their earlier cries of alarm and aggression had died and stuck in their throats.
They looked exactly like animals in a zoo exhibit, pressed against the bars.
Seeing this satisfying effect, Morris nodded with satisfaction and approval.
Though using his Bone Summoning technique this way was admittedly somewhat wasteful of its actual offensive power and potential, it certainly looked impressively intimidating and sent a very clear message without causing actual harm.
He looked toward Draco and found that the pale boy had completely frozen in place.
At this moment, Draco was rather stunned into complete immobility.
This wasn't any prank spell he recognized from books, nor was it any magic he'd learned or even heard casually mentioned at Hogwarts in family discussions!
His father had taught him about many spells, but nothing like this.
What... what on earth was this thing?
"You—" Draco finally found his voice again after several seconds. "What did you do to them? Let them go right now!!"
"Just a little harmless spell to help people calm down and think clearly," Morris said cheerfully. "They looked far too excited and aggressive for their own good. Oh, you too, Mr. Malfoy—I strongly suggest you take a deep breath first and compose yourself. You look quite flustered."
With that casual statement, he replicated the exact process.
Another smaller bone cage, sized for one person, fell from the air above, enclosing Draco in his own personal prison.
Morris turned and left the scene without looking back even once, his pace was leisurely and completely unconcerned.
Tin-Tin and Sparkles at his feet immediately followed their master loyally, with Tin-Tin even pausing to turn back and give Draco a disdainful, contemptuous look.
"Meow~ (Useless two-legger)" the cat seemed to say.
Though it was just an undead cat, it could still clearly tell that Draco was scared absolutely out of his wits.
"Wait! Stop right there!" Draco blurted out desperately, his voice was somewhat trembling with panic and desperation. "You can't just walk away like this, you have to release this cage immediately! Otherwise, I'll tell the professors everything that happened! My father will hear about this! Do you know who I am?"
At this moment, he was completely panicked and desperate, all his earlier confidence vanished.
The bone bars looked disturbingly solid and real, not like any illusion.
Morris stopped walking, glanced back over his shoulder at Draco with interest, and kindly offered a helpful suggestion in a friendly tone, "Perhaps you could try the Blasting Curse to break free. That should work quite effectively on bone."
The Blasting Curse?
Draco's face darkened with frustration and embarrassment and growing rage.
What first-year student possibly learns that advanced, dangerous spell?
This Ravenclaw was openly mocking him now, rubbing it in.
Morris ignored Malfoy's increasingly creative curses and threats behind him and left the scene walking back toward the castle.
This had been just a small warning.
That bone cage would last only a few minutes at most before dissolving into nothing.
When the time was up and the spell naturally expired, the three boys would be able to escape without any lasting physical harm.
The bone cage wouldn't leave any physical trace or evidence, and no one would be able to prove Morris had done anything at all.
Oh, right—he'd also left a Dungbomb inside each bone cage as a parting gift, courtesy of the Weasley twins' generous donation to his growing collection.
They should have exploded by now, filling those small enclosed spaces with absolutely unforgettable stench.
That scene must be quite interesting and memorable for all three boys.
He wished he could see their faces when it went off.
Honestly, Morris didn't understand what Draco was thinking with his behavior patterns.
Why was the boy so obsessively keen on causing trouble for others?
And there was that "Mudblood" term Draco kept using so casually like it was nothing.
Morris had already learned about this particular word—it was a slur carrying serious insult and discrimination.
Morris walked along the corridor toward Ravenclaw Tower, his mind was occupied with thoughts.
Just then, unexpectedly, a hand suddenly reached out from the side and landed on his shoulder, stopping him.
Morris turned his head quickly and found it was an acquaintance, someone familiar.
His prefect, Robert Hilliard, looking somewhat serious and concerned.