"So, have any unusual occurrences ever happened around Mr. Black?" Professor McGonagall asked directly, cutting straight to the point.
"Unusual occurrences?" Harold hesitated for a moment.
"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "For instance, objects moving on their own, milk spilling for no reason… anything out of the ordinary will do."
Harold frowned and glanced at Morris, who was standing beside him, his eyelids lowered in that obedient way, like someone who wouldn't harm a fly.
"If I had to mention something unusual," Harold thought carefully, "Mr. Black is a very bright child; he never needs anyone to worry about his studies. In the entrance exams that just passed, he was the top student in this entire area."
Although Harold usually didn't involve himself in the affairs of the Children's Home, he had heard about this news. Several high-quality schools had already reached out, hoping to enroll the boy. Harold, however, had always left such matters to the Caregivers. To be honest, he didn't care much about the orphanage itself—unless the government stopped funding his orphanage.
"Oh, right," Harold suddenly remembered. "This child has a record of being adopted twice before."
Professor McGonagall leaned forward slightly. "If it's convenient, could you tell me the specific circumstances?"
Two adoption records, yet the child remained at the orphanage. Why? This was a significant question. Was it abuse, or something else entirely?
Harold rubbed the back of his bald head awkwardly. "That's… a bit complicated," he cleared his throat. "I don't remember the exact details very clearly. It's been several years."
Hearing this, Morris unconsciously curled his lip. Professor McGonagall noticed the small movement and turned her gaze toward him gently.
"Do you remember anything, Mr. Black?" she asked softly. "Of course, if you'd rather not say, that's fine. It won't affect your enrollment."
Morris met her kind eyes. Fine—it wasn't exactly something that needed to be hidden. He explained concisely, "It's no big deal. When those two families adopted me, the corpses of various stray animals would always mysteriously appear in their yards."
"The first adoptive mother was so frightened she fell ill, and the second adoptive father thought I was a child who brought bad luck. Both families returned me quickly."
Morris's tone was casual. "Thinking back, that must have been the effect of magic."
He still felt a bit guilty. Those two kind families had suffered a strange disaster for no reason. Back then, the second family didn't just have stray animal corpses appear—they also found two homeless men's corpses in their yard. He had heard the city center house they lived in even dropped in price because of it. Realistic as it was, Morris silently apologized in his heart.
Of course, he hadn't caused the deaths—the autopsy reports of the two homeless men confirmed they had frozen to death. He had probably just used magic to gather the corpses together.
After listening, Professor McGonagall considered the situation. "Although the manifestation is unusual," she said, "this was likely caused by a Magical Outburst. When young wizards experience intense emotions or strong desires, their magic can leak uncontrollably, causing all sorts of strange phenomena."
Magical Outburst. Morris nodded. Everything suddenly made sense. He had always thought he was simply unlucky and that the corpses coincidentally appeared around him. Now, it seemed the corpses had gathered because of his intense, albeit unconscious, magical influence.
Wait… that didn't sound right either. Why would he want to gather corpses for no reason? He wasn't some kind of pervert.
Seeing his complex expression, Professor McGonagall reassured him. "Don't worry, Mr. Black. Magical Outbursts generally stop occurring by your age. Once you reach Hogwarts, you'll learn to control your magic, and these uncontrollable phenomena will naturally cease."
Morris nodded thoughtfully. "I understand, Professor."
"Do you have any other questions?" Professor McGonagall inquired.
Morris hesitated, a flash of curiosity in his eyes. "Professor, could you perform a spell for me to see now?"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise on her face, before smiling knowingly. Indeed, she hadn't demonstrated any magic to Morris until now. His unquestioning belief in magic seemed more unusual than his request.
"That's perfect. Next, I'll take you to Diagon Alley to buy the items you'll need for school. Did you bring your equipment list? It should be attached to the back of your Admission Letter," she said.
"I brought it," Morris replied, retrieving a somewhat crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. The list contained many items, some of which he didn't understand—like a telescope. How could that be related to magic?
"Then we can set off immediately," McGonagall said, smiling, and turned toward Harold, who remained frozen like a wooden post.
"I'll be taking Mr. Black away for a while and should return by about one in the afternoon. Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Green."
Harold nodded hurriedly. "Of course, of course. No problem at all."
Receiving confirmation, Professor McGonagall elegantly extended her right arm. "Please hold my arm, Mr. Black. The journey may feel a little uncomfortable—the first Apparition usually does. If you're nervous, take a few deep breaths first."
Morris followed her instructions, gripping her arm with both hands. She pulled out her wand with her free hand. "Apparate!"
The space around them twisted and distorted. Morris felt as if invisible hands were squeezing his insides before letting go. Light and shadow blurred past him in a flash. When his feet finally touched the ground, he found himself in a narrow alleyway.
"How do you feel?" Professor McGonagall asked, patting his back kindly.
Morris paused, stunned. "A bit nauseous…"
This was magic. For ordinary people, instant teleportation was impossible. Yet here he was, experiencing it firsthand. He couldn't help but look around, afraid this was just a hallucination. It was a miracle human technology could never achieve. How could someone who had just witnessed this marvel willingly return to the mundane world? If anyone told him it was fake, he would probably shut down completely.
Meanwhile, back in the orphanage's drawing room, Harold slumped onto the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling. His thoughts were chaotic. Everything that had happened today was overwhelming—the wizard's sudden visit, the child preparing to attend a magic school, the instantaneous display of magic… and that contract forbidding any mention of magic, lying heavily in his inner suit pocket.
Damn it. What kind of world was he living in?
For more chapters
patreon.com/Ben479