Once again, Morris felt himself enveloped by that now-familiar comforting warmth, like being wrapped in soft blankets despite the strange circumstances.
Morris opened his eyes.
The first thing he did upon regaining consciousness was immediately observe the state of the clock on the dormitory wall, confirming his location and status.
The hands weren't moving at all, frozen at the exact same time as before.
This meant he had successfully entered the gate between worlds once more.
This time, having learned from his previous shortened exploration, he didn't waste any precious time wandering aimlessly or examining familiar territory. He headed straight out of the castle, proceeding directly toward that intriguing small wooden cabin he'd spotted before being pulled back.
During the journey across the pale desert, Morris decided to try the new spell he had just learned again.
Perhaps it would work differently here.
"Energy Convergence!" he commanded, extending his palm.
The instant the incantation left his lips with clear pronunciation, he noticed something different from his failed attempts in the living world.
What gathered in his upturned palm this time wasn't that frustratingly faint, barely-visible glow of "magical power" from before that had immediately dissipated.
Instead, it was the sparse white mist that floated in the air of this strange world.
Visibly, wisps of mist came from all directions like attracted moths, rotating and condensing steadily above his palm in a miniature vortex.
Morris maintained this active state continuously as he walked, curious to see what would result.
By the time he walked close enough to be within a hundred meters of the small wooden cabin, the gathered mist had condensed and compressed into a pearl-white, slightly transparent small bead about the size of a marble.
Was this the actual product of Energy Convergence when used properly?
Morris held the small bead up before his eyes for careful observation, rotating it between his fingers. The surface was smooth and seemed to glow faintly from inside.
Then, driven by curiosity and a certain recklessness, he put it experimentally in his mouth and bit down with his molars.
It was a bit hard, like biting a small pebble or glass bead.
And there was no taste at all, it was completely neutral, neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
So what use was this strange thing?
He pondered for a while without reaching any conclusions or insights.
This bead was obviously formed by condensing and solidifying the ambient energy contained in this death-realm world, so Morris decided to give it a proper name for future reference.
"Gate Energy Crystal," he said aloud, testing how it sounded.
As for its actual use and properties, he could only research those questions later through experimentation.
Putting the Gate Energy Crystal carefully in his pocket, Morris found himself now standing directly in front of the small wooden cabin.
Up close, he could see more details.
This was quite an exquisite, well-crafted two-story wooden house, and it looked remarkably new despite existing in this timeless place.
The exterior walls were dark brown. The roof was laid with gray wooden tiles. The glass windows set into the walls were wiped remarkably clean, reflecting the strange light without any dirt.
'A wonderful wooden house,' Morris thought with appreciation.
Compared to this masterwork of carpentry, Hagrid's rough cabin was practically like a construction site thrown together by an enthusiastic amateur.
So, the pressing question was: why would there be such a wooden cabin in this desolate place?
The cabin had no nameplate or any identifying markers that he could see. The only distinctive feature was that beside the solid main door a simple symbol was carved into the wood:
A circle nested within a triangle, with a single vertical line running precisely through the centers of both shapes.
Morris stared at this geometric symbol for a while, trying to decode its meaning.
'Hmm, couldn't understand it,' he finally admitted to himself.
No matter how he looked at it, studied it from different angles, it was just two geometric shapes plus a vertical line.
However, he could be certain that this symbol could not have been naturally formed by random weathering or damage.
The person who carved it there must have had some specific intention, some message they wanted to convey.
After spending a few seconds, Morris committed the symbol to memory as accurately as possible.
For now, it was still more appropriate and productive to continue investigating this mysterious house rather than puzzle over incomprehensible symbols.
"Knock knock!" Morris knocked firmly on the door.
He called out loudly, "Hello, is anyone there? Anyone home?"
As expected, and as he'd anticipated, there was no response at all.
Only silence answered him.
Right—how could there possibly be anyone living in a place like this?
Morris tried pushing the door experimentally, applying his weight, but it didn't budge even a millimeter. He then shifted his attention to the window beside the entrance.
Unfortunately, the window glass had undergone some kind of blurring treatment, perhaps magical in nature, making it completely impossible to see what was inside despite the glass being clean.
So, accepting that conventional entry wouldn't work, Morris returned to the door and took out his wand.
"Alohomora!" he cast clearly.
The spell hit the door panel directly and was immediately deflected harmlessly, sliding off like water from oiled cloth.
Seeing this disappointing result, Morris frowned with frustration.
This wooden cabin clearly had magical protection, and it wasn't weak either.
What should he do now?
Morris contemplated his options for a while, weighing consequences, and finally silently apologized to the absent homeowner in his heart, he couldn't help himself; he was simply too curious to walk away.
"Bone Summoning!" he commanded, channeling more power than usual.
Dozens of sharp bone spikes appeared out of thin air with a sound like tearing clothes, accompanied by the distinctive whistle of objects cutting through air. They violently struck the wooden door in a coordinated barrage.
Wood chips and fragments scattered everywhere in a shower as the bone spikes easily tore through the door panel like it was paper.
Seeing this effective result, Morris nodded with satisfaction at his own problem-solving.
Not bad destructive power at all.
Compared to the subtle unlocking charm that required finesse, this brutally direct thing was much more effective when you didn't care about property damage.
As for the now-damaged wooden door hanging on its hinges... he could help the owner repair it later before leaving. After all, he had already learned the Repairing Charm.
Stepping carefully through the broken doorway into the house, Morris began investigating everywhere.
No matter from what angle he examined it, this was just an ordinary wooden cabin.
Living room, kitchen, bathroom with basic fixtures... the layout was very conventional, even somewhat minimalist in its simplicity.
There was nothing obviously unusual or magical about the interior.
The only thing that might seem a bit strange upon reflection was that there were no traces of anyone having actually lived here recently, nor any personal belongings scattered about.
It felt staged, like a display home.
Finally, in a room that was clearly intended as a bedroom based on the furniture, Morris found something useful.
In a small wooden drawer of a simple nightstand lay an ordinary photograph.
The photograph itself was quite common in appearance—palm-sized with slightly worn edges.
The image showed a blond man, very young-looking, perhaps about twenty years old. He was handsome in appearance and wore a smile that was slightly unrestrained and carefree.
Of course, Morris didn't recognize this person at all.
However, one thing was certain from the photograph—this guy's looks would definitely be popular with the girls at Hogwarts or anywhere else.
He was almost as good-looking as Morris's former self in his previous life.
Morris carefully put the photograph in his pocket, together with the Gate Energy Crystal.
Then he made several more careful rounds through the house, checking drawers, looking under furniture, searching for hidden compartments.
Until the effect of the Draught of Living Death ended abruptly and pulled him back, he made no other significant discoveries.
Over the next several days, Morris wandered continuously and obsessively in the gap made by the gate between worlds.
He explored in different directions, walked for hours at a time, searched for any variation in the landscape.
Apart from his "spawn point" of the empty Hogwarts castle and that single small wooden cabin, he found no other buildings, landmarks, or features of any kind.
Only a seemingly endless, unchanging desert that stretched to infinity in all directions.
Of course, there were still some modest gains from his explorations.
Having nothing better to do during the long walks, he used Energy Convergence repeatedly to accumulate a large bag of Gate Energy Crystals.
As for the mysterious symbol he had seen carved beside the door and that photograph of the unknown blond man, he asked the Weasley twins and several older Ravenclaw students during meals, but came up completely empty-handed.
Nobody recognized the symbol or the person.
It seemed the person in the photograph wasn't famous or historically significant to anyone's knowledge.
Soon, two weeks passed.
November sixteenth arrived—Saturday, a day without classes.
As the weather grew colder, with frost appearing on windows in the morning, Hogwarts's annual Quidditch season also officially began with great fanfare.
Quidditch was a traditional wizard sport played for centuries, Morris knew from reading. It was similar to football/soccer in its competitive team nature, except it was played in the sky while riding broomsticks at dangerous speeds.
Morris had a basic understanding of the complex rules from books but hadn't expected this sport to be quite so intensely popular among students.
During breakfast that morning in the Great Hall, practically all the students around him were enthusiastically discussing the upcoming match between Slytherin and Gryffindor houses.
But Morris personally wasn't particularly interested in sports, only focused intently on the more important task of adding sugar to his coffee.
One spoonful of white sugar, two spoonfuls, three spoonfuls, four spoonfuls...
The coffee was becoming more syrup than liquid.
He had been extremely busy lately while constantly exploring the mysterious gate world, obsessively researching potential uses of Gate Energy Crystals through various experiments, studying advanced potions from Snape's reading list, plus attending all his daily classes and completing assignments.
He simply had no time or mental energy to cultivate other hobbies or interests.
And this relentless schedule kept his brain from getting any proper rest.
The most important thing right now, his body was insisting, was to properly replenish his depleted sugar intake for energy.
Thinking this with determination, Morris squeezed a large, generous amount of thick maple syrup onto the stack of pancakes in front of him, creating a small pond of sweetness.
"That's enough, Morris, the maple syrup here is sweet as hell... oh no, you've completely ruined that perfectly good pancake..." an exasperated voice came from behind him.
Morris turned around to look and found it was the Weasley twins, both wearing matching expressions of horror at his sugar consumption.
Come to think of it, recently he had developed the ability to roughly determine which twin was which with reasonable accuracy.
However, it wasn't through physical appearance, which remained identical, but through their distinctive speaking habits and interaction patterns.
Generally speaking, the one who first spoke to him or initiated conversation was Fred, while George was usually the one who chimed in afterward with explanation or jokes.
"You both look very tense," Morris observed, cutting a large piece of thoroughly syrup-soaked pancake and stuffing it in his mouth.
He spoke indistinctly through the food. "Stressed about something?"
He'd noticed immediately that the twins had been keeping unnaturally straight faces instead of their usual grins.
"Of course we're tense," Fred said matter-of-factly, as if this should be obvious. "The Quidditch match starts at eleven o'clock sharp, and George and I just pulled an all-nighter last night preparing."
"Honestly, I'm more than a bit sleep-deprived at this point," George yawned hugely.
"Insomnia from stress? I have sleeping potion if you need some," Morris offered helpfully, reaching into his robe.
He pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid from his pocket. "Draught of Living Death, freshly brewed. It is very effective."
It was the regular version without human ash added, just for sleep.
"Whoa." Fred's mouth dropped open in genuine surprise. "You actually made this thing?"
He had always thought Morris wanting to brew the notoriously difficult Draught of Living Death was merely talk or a joke.
After all, this kind of potion sounded incredibly advanced especially for a first-year.
Morris tilted his head with confusion. "Is there a problem?"
"No, no problem," Fred shook his head quickly. "Don't need it though, thanks for offering. We have to go on in four hours."
"Go on? Where?" Morris was stunned, not following.
Fred and George looked at each other with matching expressions of realization.
Could it be... Morris genuinely didn't know they were both members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team?
Well, to be fair, they indeed hadn't actively mentioned it to him.