"Prefect Robert?" Morris stopped walking immediately and turned around with surprise, not having expected to encounter him here in this corridor at this time.
"It's me," Robert confirmed with a knowing smile.
He said in a casual but meaningful tone, "I saw you being harassed by those Slytherins just now from a distance. I was actually going to come over and intervene to stop it before things escalated out of hand, but you resolved the entire situation yourself quite spectacularly before I could even reach you. Your performance with that bone magic was genuinely impressive."
Robert's expression showed genuine admiration mixed with curiosity.
"Just using a little trick to discipline bratty children who don't understand consequences or respect," Morris said calmly, downplaying his actions with modesty. "Nothing particularly major or worth discussing at length."
Robert's eyebrows rose significantly as he said with genuine, unconcealed admiration in his voice, "Such exquisite Transfiguration work—perhaps you could afford to be a bit more confident in your own abilities, Morris. At least at your age, among all the first-years across all four houses, absolutely no one can reach that level of complexity and precise control."
It seemed Robert had mistaken Morris's Bone Summoning technique for some advanced form of Transfiguration, which made perfect sense given the visual result and the manipulation of physical matter.
Morris smiled slightly at this misunderstanding, which actually saved him the trouble of explaining the truth.
"Thank you for the compliment, Prefect Robert. I appreciate your kind words."
"Don't thank me for mere observations," Robert waved his hand dismissively. "I didn't actually help you at all during the confrontation. You handled everything yourself without any assistance."
He moved closer and lowered his voice, glancing around carefully to ensure no one else was within range or paying attention to their conversation.
"Honestly, speaking candidly between us, I don't have a particularly good impression of Slytherin house either. You don't need to be overly polite or restrained when dealing with them in the future. Sometimes letting them suffer more substantial consequences and feel real discomfort works considerably better than trying to reason with them or appeal to their better nature."
Morris immediately understood Robert's implication and the wisdom behind it: Slytherin people as a group tended to respond far more readily to demonstrations of force and power, not kindness or appeals to fairness and justice.
This matched his developing stereotypical impression of the house perfectly based on limited interactions.
If you asked which house at Hogwarts most revered and respected strength and power above all other qualities and virtues, it was undoubtedly Slytherin.
Using power to make them submit and acknowledge superiority was often the simplest and most effective method of communication.
Thinking of this revealing insight, Morris felt with some regret that he'd actually been too lenient and merciful earlier with those three boys.
Perhaps he should have disciplined Draco Malfoy considerably more harshly for the lesson to truly stick in his mind.
Like casting a Weakening Curse on him to make him feel feeble and pathetic for an entire day, barely able to lift his wand or walk properly. That would have been educational.
Morris said easily with a slight grin, "Next time they provoke me without cause, I'll give them a good solid kick in the back. Hard enough to leave a lasting impression and memory."
This casual, somewhat crude remark made Robert laugh out loud with amusement. "That's the spirit!"
"Seriously though," Morris suddenly showed a somewhat helpless, almost bewildered expression and complained, "I never go actively looking for trouble or confrontation. But somehow trouble always seems to find me regardless of my intentions."
Like the hostile centaur in the Forbidden Forest, and now Draco Malfoy and his petty vendetta over hurt pride.
He genuinely hadn't done anything wrong in either situation at all, he'd been minding his own business.
Hearing this highly relatable sentiment, Robert sighed heavily, his expression changed to hint he was remembering some unbearable memories. "Yeah, I understand that feeling. Some people are just naturally prone to attracting trouble."
"In that unfortunate respect, we might be quite similar in temperament and experience with the world."
He shook his head, as if physically trying to shake off those unpleasant thoughts and memories like water. "However, you still need to be particularly careful with that Malfoy kid going forward. I heard that his father Lucius is a school governor with considerable influence and connections."
"Of course, the governors don't typically interfere directly with minor frictions between students, even if it involves their own son. As long as you keep things within reasonable bounds and don't cause permanent injury or known harm, there'll be no problems."
Robert paused, his expression became noticeably more serious and concerned.
"The last thing I need to remind you about," he said with careful emphasis, "is that Slytherins as a group are particularly vengeful and hold grudges for long periods. They don't forget apparent insults easily. Be very careful of potential retaliation in the coming weeks."
After listening carefully to Robert's words and thoughtful warnings, Morris nodded seriously to show he understood. "I understand. I'll be vigilant and watch my back."
It seemed this prefect had gone specifically out of his way to warn Morris to be careful of Malfoy and potential consequences.
How thoughtful and kind of him.
"Good to know you're taking this seriously rather than dismissing it." Robert patted Morris's shoulder in an encouraging way. "If you need any help or support in the future, you can always come find me in the common room. Of course, only within my capabilities."
With that final piece of advice delivered, he didn't linger or continue the conversation further, waved casually to Morris in farewell, and turned toward the library.
Morris stood there for a moment, processing the conversation.
Honestly, he wasn't particularly worried about Malfoy's potential revenge or schemes.
He'd meet force with force and adapt to whatever came his way with flexibility.
What significant means of revenge could an ordinary first-year student possibly have at his disposal anyway? They barely knew any useful spells.
In the following days and weeks that stretched into December, Malfoy surprisingly didn't launch any revenge actions or confrontations at all.
Even when they inevitably met in the crowded corridors between classes, the pale boy would actively take a wide detour to avoid Morris, sometimes even turning around completely.
This somewhat cowardly behavior left Morris feeling genuinely disappointed.
He'd prepared several clever methods of "returning the favor" if Malfoy tried anything foolish.
But this passive outcome was fine too—at least he could focus his attention and energy on other considerably more important matters like his studies.
Days passed one by one in their comfortable routine, and shortly it was December with winter settling in properly across Scotland.
The weather grew colder with each passing day, with occasional delicate snowflakes drifting from the perpetually gray sky.
The castle grounds were increasingly covered in white.
One Saturday morning in mid-December, Morris came to the library as usual for his regular reading session and research.
"How many times have I told you, Morris, don't bring food into the library!" Madam Pince's angry voice suddenly rang in his ears like a thunderclap, making him freeze.
Morris silently stopped at the entrance doorway and swallowed the buttered bread in his hand as quickly as possible, nearly choking on the dry crust.
Just a few days ago, he'd accidentally gotten butter from his breakfast bread on a book's cover while reading.
Madam Pince had been absolutely furious then, chasing him through three entire sections of the library and scolding continuously for half an hour about respect for books.
A terrifying middle-aged woman—that was his honest, somewhat fearful assessment of Madam Pince now.
Compared to that version of Madam Pince in full fury, even Snape's harshest scolding was like that of a raw recruit trying to intimidate.
So, he'd better obey her rules without question or argument.
The library was quite empty in the early morning hours, with most students still at breakfast or sleeping in on the weekend. Though there were still quite a few studious students moving quietly between the bookshelves, searching for materials.
Among them were several of his friends, scattered throughout the sections.
For instance, Hermione, Harry, and Ron, all gathered at one corner table.
Yes, even Harry and Ron were in the library voluntarily on a Saturday morning.
Morris didn't know from which specific day it had started, but he had begun regularly seeing the two of them in the library rather than outside playing or relaxing.
At this moment, the three were gathered closely around a table in a quiet corner, seriously flipping through the books in their hands with focused expressions—Harry and Ron were no exception to this unusually studious behavior.
Seeing his friends starting to study hard and take academics seriously, Morris felt a genuine sense of gratification and pride.
Character development was always encouraging to witness.
Well then, occasionally he should sit with his friends in the library and read too, be social and supportive.
Thinking this, Morris walked over to the Potions section and selected a book on advanced potions theory that interested him from the shelves. He carried it over to sit next to the three, and said softly so as not to disturb others in the quiet space: "Good morning, everyone."
"Oh, it's you, Morris." Hermione immediately looked up from her reading, her face appeared somewhat tired and stressed with exhaustion.
Dark circles were visible under her eyes.
Harry and Ron also mumbled appropriate but unenthusiastic responses, but both looked rather listless and exhausted as well.
Seeing their obviously scattered gazes and lack of focus, Morris suggested with concern, "If you're all this tired and drained, why not go rest for a while? Forcing yourself to read like this won't make studying very efficient. You'll just waste time staring at pages."
"We're not studying, Morris," Hermione rubbed her temples wearily, trying to ease the tension headache. "We're looking for a person."
"Who?" Morris asked with curiosity, setting his book down.
"Nicolas Flamel." Hermione looked at him hopefully, her eyes were brightening slightly. "Do you know this person? Have you heard the name anywhere?"
Morris shook his head slowly, searching his memory. "Sounds like a French name from the pronunciation. But no, I don't recognize it."
Hermione sighed with disappointment. "You've read so many random books on obscure topics—I thought you must have seen this name mentioned in some corner of some book somewhere."
"If he were a potions master working in that field," Morris shrugged apologetically, "I'd almost definitely know the name from my reading. Is this person important? Important enough to have you three here so early on a Saturday morning looking like completely drained souls, desperately flipping through books?"
"Very important," Harry chimed in seriously, his green eyes were intense. "But we can't tell you exactly why we're searching for him—it's a bit complicated to explain and involves some secrets we promised to keep."
Though Morris was somewhat curious about the mystery and what could drive them to such obsession, he didn't press further for details.
He didn't particularly like complicated secret matters anyway.
"Oh, right," Morris suddenly remembered something relevant and said: "Since you're looking for someone anyway, could you help me keep an eye out for this person too?"
As he spoke, he reached into his robe's pocket and carefully took out a photograph, the very photo of the young blond man he'd found in the mysterious cabin in the Gate Between Two Realms.
The three immediately leaned in closer to look at the image with interest, their exhaustions were momentarily forgotten.
"Is he famous?" Hermione examined it carefully. "I don't recognize him at all from any books."
"Oh, he's really handsome," Ron exclaimed quietly with appreciation. "Very good-looking indeed."
Harry nodded in agreement, tilting his head. "Looks like some kind of celebrity. The photo quality seems old."
"If you see a similar portrait or photograph while flipping through books during your search, please remember it for me and let me know," Morris requested. "I'll also help you watch for the name Nicolas Flamel in anything I read."
"No problem at all," Hermione agreed readily. "We'll definitely keep an eye out."