When Morris saw this, he asked curiously, "Maybe I shouldn't pry, but are you two at odds?"
Managing to make enemies on the very first day of school was, in a way, a talent.
Hermione sighed softly, sounding resigned. "They're my roommates; we didn't have a fight."
In truth, she herself was baffled. Her three roommates had apparently become best friends overnight, leaving her the only one out. She couldn't figure out why.
Honestly, she hadn't done anything offensive—she'd merely shown them the spells she'd studied over the summer.
Morris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He'd heard that girls' relationships could be complicated. But kids this young were already playing those games? At eleven, in his previous life, Morris had been worrying about collecting a full set of game cards. He would have liked to help, but this was beyond him.
"How are your roommates?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"Unfortunately," Morris shook his head, "I've got a single; no roommates."
Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. She'd clearly misunderstood. Morris only smiled and didn't explain.
"Oh, here's the staircase. See you."
"See you." Hermione waved.
The first class was Transfiguration.
After breakfast in the Great Hall and twenty minutes of getting lost, Morris finally found the Transfiguration classroom. It was still early; the room was empty.
The only living thing was a striking tortoiseshell cat on the teacher's desk—probably some student's lost pet. The cat lay quietly, watching Morris. Incidentally, Morris didn't dislike cats; otherwise, he wouldn't have turned a can of food into his first Undead Creature.
With nothing to do, he walked up, transfigured his wand into a feather-tipped cat teaser, and gently waved it before the cat. The cat's ears twitched slightly; nothing more.
"Not interested?" Morris murmured, turning the feather into a ball of yarn.
As far as he knew, no cat could resist yarn. At least the silly cat he'd owned couldn't.
Sure enough, the tortoiseshell moved—but not in the playful pounce Morris expected. It only stretched, then leapt gracefully from the desk. The moment it landed, its fur vanished, and its body lengthened.
Professor McGonagall's stern face appeared. She adjusted her spectacles, her eyes falling on the yarn-ball wand Morris still held.
"A very neat bit of Transfiguration, Morris." Her mouth was a straight line, but a flicker of approval showed in her eyes.
"Er… good morning, Professor."
Morris silently returned his wand to normal. He'd had no idea the cat had been human. From now on, he'd have to wonder whether every animal at Hogwarts was real.
"Had this been during class, I'd have awarded points," Professor McGonagall said, summoning a cup of tea with her wand. "But we're still half an hour early."
"Can Transfiguration turn people into animals?" Morris asked, curious. To him, the tortoiseshell had been flawless—a perfect way to hide. Could be lifesaving in danger.
"It can," she smiled, "but what I used wasn't ordinary Transfiguration; it's a far more advanced art. When you've mastered the basics, you'll have the chance to learn it."
Morris nodded. She offered no further details—no doubt feeling he didn't need them yet. Nor was he the type to reach too far ahead.
"Your fundamentals are excellent," she said, sipping her steaming tea. "Self-taught over the summer?"
"Yes." Morris answered matter-of-factly. "You know I'm not from a wizarding family."
Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed in a smile. Hogwarts might have an exceptional student this year. Pity he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor.
"All right, Morris, take a seat. There's still time before class."
He chose a desk by the window and waited for his first lesson. Gradually, students trickled in. Hogwarts usually taught two houses together; this class combined Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
When the bell rang, the room was half-full—the rest, Morris guessed, were still wandering the corridors. Professor McGonagall expected it; she sipped her tea unhurriedly. Three minutes after the bell, everyone had finally arrived. Luckily, she didn't deduct house points.
By now, Morris understood the system: Professors awarded or removed points, and the house with the most at year's end won the House Cup. An internal Hogwarts competition.
Morris couldn't care less. He'd learned the Cup brought no real reward. In his view, schools—Muggle or magical—should grasp one truth: incentives without rewards were just empty talk. Yet the students here still fought fiercely for the Cup. He found it hard to understand.
A class normally lasted an hour. Transfiguration was no exception. Today's task: turn a match into a needle.
To Morris it felt like riding a bike, yet apart from Kel—his rival for the single dorm—no one succeeded. Professor McGonagall had foreseen this and patiently demonstrated wand movements and pronunciation.
Morris, predictably, received extra attention. He was asked to turn his match into a silver letter-opener engraved with a lion's head. Frankly, that was pushing his current limits. It took him a full half-hour to manage it. Ravenclaw earned five points.
When the bell rang, Professor McGonagall stopped him.
"Time to discuss that matter, Morris. No class next period?"
"What matter?" he asked, surprised.
"The Thestral." She explained. "Normally they don't approach students, yet you rode one to the Castle yesterday."
Now he understood. He hadn't given it a second thought. He'd simply mounted the strange horse.
"Will I be punished?" he asked.
She shook her head. "You did nothing wrong, but we must teach that Thestral it's dangerous to let students ride it."
"What do you need me to do?"
"Just identify the one that carried you. Specialists will handle the rest."
Morris nodded. For student safety, it made sense. Besides, he wouldn't mind meeting that remarkable creature again.
Class ended, and Morris packed his things. The corridor outside buzzed with chatter and movement. First-year students excitedly exchanged notes about the spells they'd learned, while older students drifted past, carrying heavy tomes and enchanted quills.
Hermione caught up to him as he stepped into the hall. "So… how was Transfiguration?"
"Interesting," Morris replied, shrugging. "The basics are straightforward, but it seems like the real challenge is knowing when—and when not—to push limits."
She nodded. "That makes sense. I think the teachers here… test more than just skill. They test judgment."
Morris considered this. In the Muggle world, success was often about speed or efficiency. Here, mastery of magic required patience, observation, and restraint. A lesson he wouldn't soon forget.
By the time they reached the courtyard, the morning sun had climbed higher, casting long shadows across the stone. The air smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and fresh grass—the unmistakable scent of Hogwarts in motion.
Hermione waved him off as she headed to her next class. Morris paused, looking around. Each corridor, each stairwell, each classroom might hide something extraordinary. A cat that wasn't a cat, a Thestral that could fly unseen, a spell that could turn a match into a letter-opener…
Hogwarts was not just a school. It was a puzzle, a challenge, and, perhaps, a place where Morris could finally test himself against something truly magical.
With a quiet smirk, he headed toward the next adventure, wand in hand, mind alert, and heart ready.
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