As the bell rang for class to begin, the students in the History of Magic classroom gradually quieted down. They settled into their seats, straightening their postures, pulling out quills and parchment, waiting expectantly for the professor to arrive and begin the lesson.
However, even after half a minute had passed, then a full minute, the lectern at the front of the classroom remained empty. No professor appeared through the door or from thin air.
The silence grew awkward, uncertain. Students began exchanging confused glances.
"Where's the professor?" Hermione couldn't help but whisper to Morris, leaning slightly in his direction. Her brow furrowed with concern. "Shouldn't he be here by now? The bell already rang."
Morris didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned his attention to the blackboard at the front of the classroom, his eyes were narrowing with focus.
Something was there, creating a subtle distortion in the air.
The next second, as if summoned by Morris's attention, a transparent figure suddenly emerged directly from the blackboard.
Like all ghosts Morris had encountered at Hogwarts, Professor Binns was a pale, semi-transparent one. But unlike the more lively ghosts like Nearly Headless Nick, there was something weary about this particular spirit.
He appeared quite elderly. His wizard robes were of a vintage style, probably from the seventeenth or eighteenth century, with high collars and excessive buttons. His body was small and thin, almost fragile-looking, hunched slightly as if tired with weary and indifferent expression.
Most striking were his eyes that were frighteningly hollow, empty as abandoned wells.
At first glance, Morris thought with certainty that Professor Binns didn't look like a living person at all.
Well, Morris corrected himself mentally, Professor Binns wasn't a living person to begin with. That was rather the point.
In any case, this was quite a dignified ghost.
Compared to the few more ghosts Morris had encountered at the opening feast, Professor Binns clearly fit Morris's stereotypical image of what a proper ghost should be much better.
All the students present were startled by Professor Binns's dramatic entrance through solid wall.
"He's actually a ghost?" Ron's whisper came from behind Morris, his voice seemed to be filled with genuine shock.
"Looks like it," Harry whispered back, equally amazed.
"Wicked," Ron breathed.
Morris heard their excited whispered exchange behind him but didn't turn around, his attention remained on the ghost professor.
However, Professor Binns himself seemed utterly oblivious to the students' chatter and surprise. He showed no reaction to their shock or whispers. Instead, he simply glided to his position behind the lectern and began his lecture as if nothing unusual had happened.
"The History of Magic, as a discipline recording the rise and fall of the wizarding world across millennia, has an importance that is often severely underestimated by young wizards," he began in a droning mutter.
His voice was utterly flat, completely devoid of inflection or emphasis. It was like someone going through the motions without passion or interest.
"Everything I teach you is documented fact, not baseless stories or entertaining legends. History is truth, recorded and preserved."
"Now, let us begin today's class. Please turn your textbooks to page forty-seven, the section on 'The Early International Confederation of Wizards and Its Formation'..."
The students unconsciously fell silent under that lifeless voice, automatically obeying. The rustling of pages filled the room as everyone searched for the correct section.
Then Professor Binns began reciting the textbook content in his relentlessly monotonous voice, reading passages almost word-for-word from the pages they'd just opened.
Morris listened fairly attentively at first, curious about the ghost's teaching style and the subject matter itself. But when he noticed after the first ten minutes that what Professor Binns was saying was exactly identical to what was already written in the book with no interpretation, no additional context, just verbatim recitation, he inevitably found it somewhat tedious.
What was the point of attending class if the professor simply read the textbook aloud?
After thirty long, draining minutes of this monotonous recitation, Morris glanced around the classroom and discovered that most students had developed glazed-over expressions. The initial excitement about having a ghost teacher had worn off completely, replaced by crushing boredom.
Harry was listlessly poking at the edge of his blank parchment meant for taking notes, creating little dots with his quill but writing nothing. Ron had completely collapsed forward onto his desk, his head pillowed on his arms, possibly asleep.
Hermione, however, was remarkably serious about the lecture. She sat with a perfectly straight back, her posture was impeccable, meticulously taking notes. Her quill moved steadily across the parchment, recording everything Professor Binns said with precision.
Yet even with Hermione's attention and dedication, Professor Binns had absolutely no intention of interacting with those below him. He simply continued his lecture mechanically, lost completely in his own world of dates and dry facts.
His hollow gaze wasn't even properly focused on the students. It seemed to pass through them, looking at something only he could see.
This looks like a very boring class, Morris thought with disappointment. Perhaps the most boring I've ever attended.
So, recognizing the futility of listening to content he could read himself, he simply gave up on paying attention to the lecture. Instead, he focused all his attention on Professor Binns himself as a subject of study.
Compared to historical knowledge already written clearly in the textbook, knowledge he could access anytime, he was far more interested in Professor Binns as an individual ghost.
A ghost professor—now this had the authentic flavor of the magical world he'd been seeking.
"In the early fifteenth century, around 1419, the Muggle society's witch hunts gradually began to spread across Europe, coupled with frequent cross-regional disputes within the wizarding community itself over territory and resources..."
Professor Binns's droning voice continued.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Hermione's hand shot up into the air. "Professor! I have a question!"
The entire classroom stirred. Students who'd been dozing sat up.
Professor Binns froze mid-sentence. He looked startled, as if he hadn't anticipated this scenario. Perhaps no one had asked him questions in years.
"Speak," he said flatly after a moment of processing, his tone still devoid of any real emotion or encouragement.
Hermione stood up properly, her voice was clear and confident. "Regarding the witch hunts you mentioned, Professor—were the Muggles actually successfully hunting real witches and wizards? Or were they mostly persecuting innocent Muggles who they mistakenly believed to be magical?"
This girl had actually been genuinely paying attention to the lecture! Not just taking notes mechanically, but thinking about the content.
Morris was immediately somewhat surprised and impressed despite himself.
Professor Binns's hollow gaze shifted in Hermione's general direction. He began answering her question in his same monotonous voice, explaining how most alleged "witches" burned by Muggles were actually non-magical, while real wizards and witches used simple spells to escape harm.
But at that moment, while Professor Binns spoke to Hermione, Morris keenly noticed that Professor Binns's gaze lingered on him for several seconds.
After Hermione's question was answered thoroughly, she sat down looking satisfied with the explanation.
Strangely, Professor Binns didn't immediately continue his prepared lecture as expected. Instead, he slowly glided past the lectern and floated directly to Morris's side, approaching his desk.
Morris instinctively looked up at him, meeting those now-focused eyes.
Something unexpected happened in that moment of eye contact—Professor Binns's eyes, which had been hollow and unfocused throughout the entire lecture, were now precisely, intensely focused on him.
Morris looked around quickly and found that every single student's eyes were now on this spot, watching this unusual interaction.
"Is there a problem, Professor?" Morris asked carefully.
However, Professor Binns merely shook his head slowly. Then without a word of explanation, he returned to the lectern and resumed his lecture in that same monotonous voice. His eyes returned to their previous hollow, distant state as if nothing had happened.
Morris just felt utterly bewildered and somewhat unsettled. What had that been about?
And so, the remaining class time passed with excruciating slowness, each minute was feeling like ten.
As the bell finally rang to signal the end of class, students literally ran out of the classroom as if they'd been granted amnesty from torture. They couldn't leave fast enough, streaming toward the door in a rush.
Ron yawned hugely, his jaw was cracking, and patted Morris on the shoulder from behind as he stood to leave. "Morris, want to come with us to the Great Hall? We want to talk to you more about what happened last night."
Harry gathered his things and came over as well, his face wearing a genuinely friendly smile. "We have a lot of questions we want to ask you."
Hermione seeing this pressed her lips together tightly and said nothing. She simply grabbed her textbook and notes quickly and left the classroom first.
Morris, however, glanced at Professor Binns still floating on the platform, watching the students leave. He shook his head at Harry's invitation.
"You two go ahead," he said. "I have other matters to attend to first. I'll catch up later."
Harry nodded. "Alright, no problem. See you in the Great Hall whenever you're done."
The two boys left with the flow of departing students, and the classroom very soon became completely empty. Only Professor Binns and Morris remained in the large space, along with an enchanted broom that was automatically sweeping the floor, moving back and forth with soft whisking sounds.
Morris waited several moments, making sure everyone had truly left and no one was lingering in the corridor outside. Then he silently walked forward to the platform and looked at Professor Binns still standing there.
Professor Binns's eyes had become clear again.
"Hello, Professor Binns," Morris said respectfully. "I'm Morris Black. You seem to have something you want to discuss with me."
Professor Binns smiled slightly.
Morris was genuinely surprised by this. It was the first time he'd seen Professor Binns show any change in expression.
"May I call you Morris?" Professor Binns asked gently.
This tone was completely different from his lecture voice. It gave off the distinct feeling of a kindly neighborhood elder offering advice to a young person.
Morris paused, slightly taken aback by the warmth. "Of course, Professor. Please do."
"Very good, Morris," Professor Binns nodded slightly, gazing at him with those newly clear eyes.
"Before we begin our conversation properly, I want to confirm something important. A suspicion I have."
He floated slightly closer.
"Are you—Death?"
"Death?" Morris repeated blankly, his mind went completely blank.
He tilted his head, never having expected Professor Binns would ask such a bizarre question. It seemed somewhat absurd, frankly. How could he possibly be death?
It even sounded like something from a fairy tale.
Professor Binns observed his expression carefully and continued after a moment, "Ah, perhaps I've got it wrong. But one thing is certain:
You are a wizard favored by Death."
Morris's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Professor Binns's statement was delivered with such conviction, that it was impossible to dismiss.
"I don't understand, Professor," Morris spoke carefully, choosing his words with caution. His mind was racing. "What does that mean exactly? What does it mean to be 'favored by Death'? It doesn't sound... like a blessing or a gift."
"It's certainly not a blessing in the conventional sense," Professor Binns agreed, floating closer still. "But it may not necessarily be a curse either."
He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Death is drawn to you, naturally and powerfully. I imagine those creatures at Hogwarts called Thestrals stay quite close to you whenever they can, don't they?"
Morris didn't deny it, his silence confirmation wa senough. There was no point in lying to someone who clearly already knew.
"So, I was right," Professor Binns chuckled softly.
"So, Professor," Morris asked the most crucial question at hand, the one in his mind, "why are you telling me this? Is it merely to inform me of this fact?"
The faint trace of a smile on Professor Binns's face faded completely.
He floated farther from the lectern, drifting toward the windows. He was silent for a long moment, as if organizing his thoughts, deciding how to say something difficult.
Then, in an extremely calm tone, he said:
"Being favored by Death is an extremely rare ability for a wizard. And only someone with this ability can help me with what I need."
Professor Binns floated closer again.
"This is my personal request, Morris."
He paused. Then said: "When you become strong enough in your abilities, if you can—
Kill me."