After leaving the Black Lake, Morris immediately returned to the castle.
He figured that after this incident, Draco Malfoy would be away from him for quite some time.
However, Morris knew this man's character well.
Given the chance, Malfoy will definitely seek revenge.
It's like he taught the other person a lesson last year, but the other person is still causing him trouble this semester.
Sigh, what a spoiled and brainless young master.
And then there's Marcus Flint, who, although he looks like an uncivilized gorilla, isn't too stupid.
Needless to say, he's definitely a vengeful guy.
Morris rubbed his temples; he had a headache.
There were always people preventing him from enjoying the peaceful and beautiful campus life.
Fortunately, this is the Wizarding World, where magic is everything.
Power, connections, and intrigue can certainly create trouble, but they are just trouble.
As Morris walked along the veranda beside the courtyard, the rain suddenly intensified, pelting the ground with a loud patter.
Meow--Meow--
A few meows came from the courtyard.
Two soaking wet cats ran up to him one after the other, leaving a trail of wet paw prints on the ground.
"Oh, it's you guys."
Morris took out his wand and casually cast a Drying Charm on them.
These two cats are Guantou and Mrs. Norris.
Mrs. Norris was Filch's cat. She had dark gray fur and was very thin, looking somewhat malnourished.
To most students, Mrs. Norris was a vicious cat because she was clever and often patrolled the corridors alone. If she saw any students breaking the rules or wandering around at night, she would immediately notify Filch.
But Morris didn't dislike it.
The Guantou had a year-long feud with it, and now Mrs. Norris has practically become the Guantou's lackey.
Under normal circumstances, with Mrs. Norris around, Filch wouldn't be too far away.
Sure enough, about half a minute later, the sound of dragging footsteps came from the end of the corridor.
Filch appeared around the corner, wearing a raincoat and carrying a tattered lamp, walking quickly.
"Damn weather... Mrs. Norris? Where have you been? Did you catch anyone?"
Upon seeing Mrs. Norris, Filch immediately strode forward, cuddled his cat in his arms, and relaxed slightly.
He didn't notice Morris standing to the side until Mrs. Norris called out to him.
His gaze fell on the wand in Morris's hand, his voice hoarse, "Spellcasting in the corridor, is that it, Mr. Black?"
Morris nodded, looking completely at ease. "I just used a Drying Charm on your cat. You're welcome."
"Tch!" Filch snorted loudly. "Who gave you permission to use magic on my cat without my consent? Ah, wait, you didn't deny using magic in the hallway."
Morris frowned slightly.
He could tell that the bald old administrator in front of him had no intention of reasoning with people; he only wanted to use his pitiful power to oppress them.
Just as Filch was about to say something, the sound of flapping wings came from the rain.
A soaking wet owl, its feathers clinging to its body, flew up to Filch, tossed a letter into his hand, and flew away without looking back.
Filch opened the letter, took out a piece of paper, glanced at it, and his face instantly turned pale, looking as if he had been deeply shocked.
"Consider yourself lucky, Black." He stuffed the paper back into the envelope, his voice much lower than before, even a little distracted. "I'll let it slide this time... Keep your wand under control, and don't let me see it again!"
He hastily uttered these words, and without waiting for Morris's reply, he picked up Mrs. Norris, took the oil lamp, and hurried away.
Morris watched Filch's departing figure, wondering what had happened.
However, considering Filch's usual eccentric behavior, it's not surprising.
In his haste, Filch stumbled around the corner, and the paper he had just stuffed into the envelope fluttered to the ground without him noticing.
The Guantou darted out and retrieved the letter.
Morris took it and began to read the contents with great interest.
"Sir, we regret to inform you that this course ( Kwikspell: A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic ) is designed to help adult wizards improve their magical abilities and is not suitable for your Squib friend... Have a nice day."
The final signature was from the Kwikspell Company.
Morris immediately understood what was going on.
Squib is someone born into a wizarding family, possessing wizarding blood, but who is unable to use magic.
In his memory, Filch had never used any magic; he had never even seen the other's wand.
The answer is obvious: Filch is a Squib.
The "your Squib friend" mentioned in the letter undoubtedly refers to Filch himself.
Ah, the classic "I have a friend".
You can't believe a thing of the sort.
Filch was clearly very concerned about his Squib status and was unwilling to admit it openly, hiding it very well.
A tiny handle.
Morris leisurely folded the letter and put it away.
This little note might come in handy if Filch comes looking for trouble again.
Halloween Eve has arrived.
That evening, Hogwarts Great Hall was decorated with many strange and unusual items. In addition to the classic pumpkin lanterns and bats, there were also more than a dozen skeletons walking around.
Half an hour before the banquet officially began, faculty, staff, and students had all arrived.
Professor Flitwick is chatting with Morris.
"Excellent, Morris," he said, looking at the skeletons. "Your skeleton magic is perfect for this holiday."
Morris smiled. "Yes, Professor."
During the day, Professor Flitwick asked him to make some skeletons for Halloween decorations, and he readily agreed.
The skeletons in this exhibition have no combat capabilities; they serve purely to enhance the festive atmosphere.
Therefore, although the quantity was large, Morris consumed very little magic.
" Filius!" Professor McGonagall waved from the side door.
"Oh, Minerva is calling me, I should go."
As Professor Flitwick spoke, he strode quickly toward Professor McGonagall by the side door, like a nimble penguin.
Morris watched him leave, looked around, and couldn't help but feel a little sentimental.
A year is enough time for many things to change.
He remembers trying to find the materials for the Draught of Living Death last Halloween.
That was a really busy year.
"I heard that Headmaster Dumbledore has booked a Skeleton Dance Troupe this year to entertain everyone."
"Really? I've never seen that before..."
Morris overheard the chatter from his classmates and raised an eyebrow.
Skeleton Dance Troupe?
He remembered Frick mentioning that Madam Caroline was a member of the Skeleton Dance Troupe.
Perhaps the people who came today were Madam Caroline's dance troupe.
Morris couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation.