"Of course," Morris replied calmly.
"No problem," the boy named Kyle nodded in agreement.
Robert gave a satisfied smile. "Very well, then I will decide the content of the competition. Let me ask—did you both preview the Transfiguration Spell over summer vacation?"
Morris and Kyle nodded simultaneously.
"Wonderful. It seems you are well-prepared. Truly students of Ravenclaw," Robert said approvingly, his gaze drifting over the other freshmen nearby.
Two of them lowered their heads in shame; they had spent the entire summer enjoying their last moments of play and hadn't even glanced at the textbooks.
"Then the competition will focus on the Transfiguration Spell," Robert announced. He walked to a cluttered table, motioning for the two to step forward. "The rules are simple: choose any item from this table to transform. There are no restrictions on what it becomes; the more detailed, the better. Ultimately, everyone here will vote to decide the winner."
The older students gathered around, their expressions hinting at the anticipation of entertainment. They knew very few first-years could master Transfiguration before even starting school. Morris and Kyle, in their eyes, were likely just bluffing.
"The Transfiguration Spell?" Morris murmured, drawing his wand from his waist. He waved it gently at a silver teapot on the table.
Under everyone's watchful gaze, the teapot began to transform. Its body stretched into robes, the spout extended into arms, and the lid became a familiar wise face. Within ten seconds, an exquisite small statue of Rowena Ravenclaw appeared on the table. Except for minor details in the folds of the robes, it looked almost identical to the statue at the staircase entrance.
"That's about it," Morris said, shrugging. He wasn't sure of the others' abilities, but this was as far as he could push his skills for now.
Robert stepped forward, examining the statue closely. "Perfect handling of details. Morris, this is already at a third-year level."
Spontaneous applause broke out among the surrounding Ravenclaw students.
The older students' faces were filled with surprise. They had come expecting a joke but instead witnessed the birth of a Transfiguration prodigy.
Robert's interest in Morris grew. He had seen such talent before—people who could perform at such a level as first-years were rare. He studied Morris carefully. The boy's calm expression suggested the impressive display was casual for him. Could he be hiding even greater strength?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Robert turned to Kyle. "Do you still wish to continue the competition? Morris must have put in tremendous effort over the summer to reach this level."
Kyle froze. Did he even need to compete? He was just an ordinary freshman. Sure, he had reviewed basic Transfiguration, but only simple transformations—like turning a match into a needle. Seeing the lifelike statue before him, he felt powerless. Was this really a first-year?
"I give up," he whispered.
Morris had thus secured the only single dormitory exactly as he wanted.
He stored his wand and nodded slightly to Robert. "Thank you."
"You've earned it," Robert said, smiling. "Your room is on the top floor—Dormitory Seven. But a single room comes with its own challenges. It's quiet, yes, but you won't have the usual companionship. If you encounter any difficulties, feel free to come to me."
"Also, your luggage should arrive in about five minutes."
"I understand," Morris nodded. His Prefect seemed genuinely friendly.
"Alright, everyone," Robert clapped, addressing the crowd. "You may return to your rooms or stay here for a while. That's all. Dismissed!"
It was clear—excellence often received special treatment. In Ravenclaw, this principle was especially evident.
Morris rested on a sofa in the common room, waiting for his luggage. Several older students approached him, eager to chat. He patiently answered their questions, which ranged from curious to bizarre.
"How did you learn the Transfiguration Spell?"
"By feeling."
"What do your parents do? Are they wizards?"
"I'm an orphan."
"What is your wand made of?"
"Wood."
"Are you male or female?"
"Male."
"Do you like boys?"
Morris looked up, startled by the question. The inquirer was a sweet-looking older girl. He twitched the corner of his mouth. Was this serious? First-years were clearly a source of entertainment—and sometimes peculiar curiosity.
After answering everyone's questions, Morris climbed the stairs to Dormitory Seven. The room was a quarter-circle layout with four four-poster beds spaced evenly along the curved wall, beside four large arched windows. Two long desks, a mirror, a clothes rack, and four cabinets completed the setup. As Robert had said, it was a four-person dormitory. But Morris was its only occupant.
What a luxurious and sinful space. One bed was already made with white sheets, and his suitcase rested quietly at the foot.
Morris walked to the window and looked out. The Black Lake shimmered under the twilight, the moon casting a clear reflection over the ripples. A pleasant view, indeed.
He opened his suitcase and began arranging his personal belongings. Suddenly, he noticed a problem—where was his cat?
A noise came from outside. Morris stepped forward, opening the window just in time to see two black shadows flying toward him. A pitch-black owl clutched an equally black cat in its talons.
The cat twisted and growled in anger, powerless under the owl's grip. Clearly, these were his pets—Canned Food and Fireworks.
Fireworks dropped Canned Food onto the carpet with a cry, then vanished into Morris's shadow to recover its strength. The cat, humiliated by the forced "tour" around Hogwarts, bared its teeth at Morris's shadow, then rolled in frustration.
Morris sighed. This was pure revenge. But that wasn't the worst part—the cat's glance at his shadow seemed unfair. Why didn't his pet have the same ability to travel through shadows? Naked favoritism, it seemed.
He knelt down, gently stroking Canned Food's head until it calmed. Only then did he change into pajamas, climb into bed, and sink into a deep, peaceful sleep.
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