December 19th
Finally, the Christmas holiday that all students had been so eagerly anticipating for weeks had at last arrived.
After a final breakfast in the Great Hall, where the house tables were noticeably emptier than usual, students gathered in excited clusters at Hogsmeade Station, stamping their feet against the cold and breathing out clouds of vapor as they waited for the Hogwarts Express to arrive and carry them home.
Despite the bitterly cold weather, everyone was genuinely excited, their faces were flushed with anticipation rather than just cold.
After being essentially cooped up within Hogwarts' stone walls for nearly four months straight, everyone naturally wanted desperately to go home, to see their families, to sleep in their own beds, to eat their mothers' cooking.
The Hogwarts Christmas holiday would last until early January, making it quite a lengthy and generous break. Most students had chosen to return home to reunite with their families, spend time with siblings, exchange gifts, and enjoy special holiday meals.
Though a notable few had elected to remain at school for various reasons, including Harry and Ron, as well as the Weasley twins Fred and George. The Weasley family was staying behind because their parents were traveling all the way to Romania to visit Charlie, their second-eldest brother who worked there professionally as a dragon handler at a reserve.
Morris found this exotic occupation quite fascinating and romantic when he'd first heard about it. He too very much wanted to see the legendary dragons with his own eyes someday, those magnificent creatures of myth and magic that breathed fire and hoarded treasure.
Of course, being honest with himself, as a necromancer his interests leaned in a somewhat darker direction. He was considerably more interested in dragon corpses, dragon skeletons, dragon bones than in living, breathing, dangerous dragons that might burn him up.
He found himself wondering with curiosity whether his Undead Creature Transformation Magic Circle would even work on such massive, powerful magical creatures. The sheer size alone presented challenges as a dragon wouldn't fit in any normal magic circle.
To successfully create and command an undead dragon? That would be absolutely magnificent! Terrifying, awe-inspiring, the stuff of nightmares!
Morris shook his head, dismissing the fantasy. He knew well that such grandiose thoughts were pure wishful thinking for now, completely beyond his current capabilities.
Dragons were so far beyond his reach they might as well be on the moon.
But who could definitively say what the distant future might hold?
Perhaps someday, years from now...
Soon, right on schedule, the scarlet Hogwarts Express arrived at the station with a curling of steam and the shriek of brakes. The massive engine pulled smoothly to a stop, and doors began opening all along its length as students surged forward.
After boarding and crossing the crowded corridor, Morris randomly selected an empty compartment near the front of the train and settled in, sliding the door closed behind him with satisfaction.
Perhaps because a significant number of students had chosen to remain at school for the holidays, this time nobody crowded into his private space seeking company, and none of the familiar faces he knew appeared to claim the other seats.
A rare moment of genuine peace and quiet.
Morris didn't waste a single moment of this time. He immediately pulled several heavy books from his packed trunk and began reading with intensity.
He had brought extremely little luggage home this time, basically nothing besides books, his Skeleton Dog was packed in a reinforced box, and Tin-Tin curled up on the seat beside him.
The cat occasionally opened one eye to observe him, then returned to napping.
As for Sparkles, his undead owl had firmly expressed that flying home independently on its own wings would be considerably faster and far more comfortable than being stuffed in a cage on a noisy train.
One truly had to admire the remarkable stamina and impressive speed of the magical world's owls, Morris thought. They could fly for hours without rest, cross hundreds of miles without stopping.
Time slipped away quietly and peacefully as Morris alternated between reading dense texts and practicing his meditation techniques, losing himself in the rhythm.
The train gradually slowed its momentum and finally came to a smooth, gentle stop at the famous Platform Nine and Three-Quarters hidden within King's Cross Station.
Steam and smoke filled the air immediately. The noise of excited voices rose once again in waves as students began disembarking, calling to each other, searching for family members.
Morris calmly closed the book in his hands and carefully packed it away in his trunk along with the others. He stretched his stiff limbs, working out the kinks from sitting still for so long, and followed the flowing crowd of students off the train and onto the platform.
The platform was absolutely crowded and chaotic filled with families reuniting with tearful embraces, younger siblings jumping up and down with excitement.
But clearly, no one would be there specifically to meet Morris.
He pulled his luggage behind him with Tin-Tin perched on top of the trunk observing everything, and walked straight toward the station exit without looking back at the happy reunions happening all around him.
Better not to dwell on what he didn't have.
Winter's early twilight had already descended heavily over London, the sun having set hours ago. Streetlights were gradually flickering to life across the city, blooming into pools of dim, sickly yellow light that barely pushed back the gathering darkness.
Morris paused just outside the barrier at the exit, scanning his surroundings with searching eyes, and quickly locked onto his target—a familiar bald man standing somewhat awkwardly in the crowd of muggles, clearly out of his element.
Well, not completely bald exactly, Morris corrected himself with a mental smile... balding, rather.
There was a subtle but important difference between the two states.
The person was none other than Harold Green, his nominal guardian. Morris had taken the time to write Harold a letter while still at school, asking if he could spare the time from his busy schedule to pick Morris up from the station, and Harold had readily, even enthusiastically agreed without hesitation.
"Harold?" Morris called out, approaching while pulling his suitcase. "Thank you for coming."
"Ah, Morris!" Harold turned around quickly at the sound of his name, his face was breaking into a warm smile.
He smoothly took the suitcase from Morris's grip, lifting it with ease. "Good to see you. You seem to have grown taller since September. At least an inch or two, I'd say."
Morris nodded politely and returned the pleasantry: "Thank you. And your hair looks considerably thicker too since I last saw you."
Harold's friendly expression became somewhat peculiar, freezing awkwardly. His smile twitched.
If you can't say anything genuinely nice, perhaps say less, he thought but didn't say out loud.
The two made their way to Harold's car parked in the nearby lot and drove out into the busy evening streets of London. The city was thriving with pre-Christmas activity, lights were strung everywhere, shop windows were decorated festively.
Morris took the opportunity during the drive to change discreetly from his wizard's robes into ordinary Muggle clothes in the backseat.
As Harold had accurately noted, Morris had indeed been growing recently with alarming speed, and his old clothes from September no longer fit properly. Everything was too short, and tight.
Fortunately, he had wisely used Engorgement Charms at Hogwarts ahead of time to magically enlarge his clothing somewhat, buying himself a few more months of wear.
Outside of school grounds, away from Hogwarts' protective enchantments, underage wizards absolutely weren't allowed to use magic under any circumstances.
Once magic was cast by someone under seventeen, something called the "Trace"—a monitoring spell placed on all magical children would trigger immediately, sending an alert directly to the Ministry of Magic that an underage wizard had illegally cast spells outside of approved school grounds.
Violations could result in warnings, wand confiscation, even expulsion in severe cases.
However, in purely wizarding areas and designated magical zones like Diagon Alley, using magic was perfectly fine and completely legal, because the Trace tracked magical residue and activity in specific geographic areas rather than on individuals.
The concentrated magical background there made it impossible to distinguish individual spells.
A useful loophole, though not one that helped Morris right now.
Harold skillfully navigated the car through London's congested streets and asked with casual curiosity, clearly having been waiting to ask this question, "So, how's life been at Hogwarts?"
"Not bad at all," Morris said honestly, gazing at the flowing streetscape outside the window. "Magic is a wonderful thing. I'm learning a great deal."
He understood that Harold was intensely interested in topics related to magic, fascinated by this world he could never truly access. Sure enough, Harold's eyes immediately brightened with interest, his grip was tightening slightly on the steering wheel.
"What exactly can magic do?" he asked eagerly. "Can you give me some examples?"
"Almost anything imaginable, within limits," Morris said thoughtfully, still watching the city pass by.
"For instance, I can turn water into paint with a simple spell. I can make objects completely disappear or appear out of thin air. I can repair broken things perfectly, as though they'd never been damaged... Advanced Transfiguration can even turn a teapot into a tortoise, or a beetle into a button..."
He paused, then added with genuine regret, "Unfortunately, according to the regulations, I can't use any magic at all in the Muggle world outside school."
Hearing that Morris couldn't demonstrate any magic personally, Harold's energetic expression immediately showed obvious disappointment. His shoulders slumped slightly. "That's a shame. I would have loved to see something."
For the remainder of the journey back toward the orphanage, Harold continuously questioned Morris in detail about absolutely every aspect of Hogwarts he could think of.
Morris answered honestly and thoroughly for the most part. He had already asked Professor McGonagall beforehand about the legal boundaries—while wizards absolutely couldn't reveal magical information to random Muggles under penalty of law, legal guardians were a exception to that rule.
Of course, guardians also had to follow strict confidentiality rules and couldn't go spreading the information around. If they violated those terms, relevant personnel from the Ministry of Magic would definitely come calling with memory charms and possibly legal consequences.
While they chatted amiably, the car had already pulled up slowly in front of the familiar orphanage building. Morris climbed out onto the pavement, and a familiar, distinctly unpleasant smell immediately wafted over—the faint odor of fermenting garbage from the bins around the corner, mixed with city exhaust and damp concrete.
That's absolutely right, Morris thought with resigned recognition. This was the smell he'd grown up with, one that had never changed or improved in all his years here. Only at this precise moment did he truly feel the jarring reality of having returned completely to the Muggle world, leaving magic behind.
"Well, I'll be going then," Harold said pleasantly, helping Morris lift his luggage out of the car's trunk and set it on the pavement.
Then he paused, as though just remembering something. "Oh, by the way—would you like to come to my house for Christmas dinner?"
"Sure, I'd be delighted," Morris agreed without a second thought or moment of hesitation.
He had no other plans for Christmas anyway. And why not enthusiastically accept a free meal with proper cooking instead of orphanage cafeteria food?
Only a fool would refuse.
Harold smiled warmly looking pleased. "Excellent! Then I'll come pick you up when the time comes. Goodbye, Morris."
"Goodbye, Harold. And thank you again."
During the evening dinner at the orphanage, Morris was suddenly and unexpectedly informed by one of the caretakers that his former roommate Scott, his friend of many years, had moved away to a neighboring city.
Morris felt genuinely regretful upon hearing this news. He and Scott had known each other for such a long time. After losing contact this way, they would likely have serious difficulty ever seeing each other again in the future.
After finishing the mediocre dinner and returning his tray, Morris made his way back to his old familiar room on the second floor.
Sure enough, exactly as he'd expected, all of Scott's belongings were completely gone from his bed. His own bed was covered with a thin, depressing layer of dust and looked sadly abandoned.
At this moment, Morris especially missed the incredible convenience of magic with longing. If only he could, he would very much like to use a simple, basic Cleaning Charm.
Unfortunately, there was that damned Trace monitoring his every movement, ready to report him to the authorities the instant he tried.
After a simple, manual cleanup using a rag and some water, Morris brushed the dust off his clothes and sat on his bed with nothing else to do. He found himself at loose ends.
He began thinking about preparing Christmas gifts for others. Although he knew quite a few people at Hogwarts at this point, the only ones who truly needed Christmas gifts seemed to be the Weasley twins.
As for the actual gift itself, he planned to send them several bottles of his homemade eye drops to let them personally experience the unique sensation of eyes glowing bright green like some kind of supernatural creature.
He had even taken the time to name this particular eye drop concoction: "Green-Eyed Menace Potion."
It had a nice ring to it, he thought. Very dramatic.
As for his other acquaintances at school, he planned to make a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy some simple greeting cards and various candy to send out in a batch mailing.
When you genuinely don't know what to give someone, candy is always the safest, most universally acceptable choice.
Everyone likes sweets.
Even if they don't, they can pass them along to someone who does.
Oh, right—there was also Professor Snape to consider, Morris suddenly remembered. The Potions professor who had helped him a great deal over the term, who had given him that reading list, who had been surprisingly lenient about the storeroom incident. He definitely deserved a thoughtful gift.
Morris thought carefully for a while, tapping his fingers against his knee, then suddenly had a brilliant flash of inspiration—perhaps shampoo would be an excellent, practical choice.