Morris breathed a sigh of relief.
It turned out to be just an invitation to a gathering.
It startled him.
The person who invited him was Robert, a prefectural Prefect at Ravenclaw.
He had indeed heard that some Hogwarts students would hold private gatherings to discuss topics that wouldn't be explored in class, or to share useful magical knowledge.
This was the first time he had been invited.
He naturally wouldn't refuse.
But then again, why would the other party use Lockhart's dwarf to deliver the message?
After dinner, Morris arrived promptly at the portrait of the weeping noblewoman on the third floor.
The woman in the painting covers her face, her shoulders tremble slightly, and she emits a continuous sobbing sound, which is particularly clear in the empty corridor at dusk.
In the Muggle world, that would be quite frightening.
The door to the right of the portrait was closed, but a sliver of light shone through the crack.
This is clearly the location of the gathering.
Morris knocked politely on the door, and Robert Hilliard himself opened it, a lollipop dangling from his mouth and an open book in his hand.
" Black, you've arrived. Please come in." He stepped aside.
Morris entered the room, which was furnished like a small lounge, with several comfortable sofas and armchairs casually placed, and a scent similar to mint candy wafting in the air.
"Make yourself at home." Robert placed his book on a small coffee table, sat down in an armchair, and said casually, "Welcome to our gathering, Morris."
Morris looked around and found that there weren't many people; including himself and Robert, there were only five people.
And they were all upperclassmen from Ravenclaw.
Everyone nodded at him in a friendly manner.
"A study group exclusively for Ravenclaw students," Robert smiled. "We get together here occasionally."
"I see, "Morris nodded.
He doesn't dislike these kinds of gatherings.
It's like something the Ravenclaw student council would do.
Morris asked curiously, "Will this study session have a theme? What will we usually discuss?"
A disheveled male student next to him pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, and said in a serious tone, " Dark Magic, child."
"Cool," Morris without hesitation, "I'll participate."
There are even gatherings specifically for discussing Dark Magic.
That would be so interesting.
Robert smirked and announced loudly, "Very well. Now, let's welcome Morris Black to the team!"
A burst of applause followed.
"Of course," Robert winked at Morris, " Hogwarts doesn't openly allow discussions of the Dark Magic, so this is just a normal academic exchange."
If you can't do it openly, then you'll do it secretly, right?
Morris understood.
The disheveled boy from before said, "Just kidding. We're just researching some rather dangerous magic. Oh, by the way, I'm Algernon Barlow, just call me Algernon."
"Hello."
Next, Morris briefly introduced himself to the remaining people.
They were all Ravenclaw students in their sixth or seventh year.
After exchanging a few words, Morris looked at Robert and said, "I'm a little curious, why did you bring me into this gathering?"
He asked very frankly.
His relationship with Robert didn't seem that close.
Upon hearing this, Robert snapped his fingers. " Algernon."
Algernon understood and immediately took out a photograph from his pocket and handed it to Morris.
Morris took the photo and realized he had seen it before.
It was the photo published in the Daily Prophet showing him riding Bone Dragon over Hogsmeade.
"This is...
Algernon pointed to the figure clad in bone armor on the back of the Bone Dragon, his tone certain, "Is that you?"
How did you recognize me?
"Because I saw it with my own eyes," Robert said casually, "During the Christmas holidays. Oh, and those two Gryffindor —they almost froze to death."
I see.
Morris nodded.
The two Gryffindor likely refer to the Weasley Twins.
He didn't deliberately hide the Bone Dragon, so it's normal that he was seen by others.
Morris handed the photo back, saying, "Most people wouldn't pay attention to such an insignificant page in the Daily Prophet."
"Our gathering only accepts the best Ravenclaw," Robert said. "Although you're a sophomore, Morris, you're fully qualified to join us. By the way, that photo in the Daily Prophet was taken by Algernon."
Morris looked at Algernon again, somewhat surprised, "How did you get the picture?"
He was completely unaware that someone was secretly filming him while he was flying in the sky.
With such a perfect angle, most people would probably think this photo was staged.
A sly glint flashed in Algernon's eyes. "That's my secret. You need some real skills to work at the Daily Prophet. I'm an intern there."
"Amazing," Morris said sincerely.
He's a talented person.
"In short, everyone here has their own strengths." Robert's gaze swept over the group present. " Grayson and Thorne are skilled in magic, Algernon excels at intelligence gathering, and I have some knowledge of alchemy."
"We often gather here to find inspiration and inspire each other," Algernon added.
"A collective wisdom," Morris said without hesitation. "Very wise. Oh, by the way, I'm better at Potions."
Robert casually asked, "How good are you?"
Everyone present looked on with curiosity.
Ultimately, Morris was just a second-year student; he'd only been taking Potions Class for less than two years. How good could he possibly be?
Morris smiled. "I dare say, definitely better than most graduates."
It sounded like bragging, but Robert believed it.
He clapped his hands happily. "That's wonderful! We need someone skilled in Potions. Algernon, haven't you been having some trouble with that lately?"
"I don't think it might work," Algernon muttered.
Clearly, he didn't believe Morris could solve it.
"Tell me about it first," Morris said, looking at him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Algernon hesitated for a moment, then slowly said, "It's about the Draught of Living Death. I need this Potions, but you know..."
He shrugged. "Whether you buy it or make it yourself, it's not easy."
Draught of Living Death?
Um?
Morris perked up.
Isn't that just a coincidence?
He was certain that there were only a handful of people in the world who knew more about the Draught of Living Death than he did.
"How much do you need?" Morris asked with a smile. "I happen to have some in stock, and I can sell it to you at a low price."
Algernon sat bolt upright. "How many do you have?"
"Fifty or sixty bottles, I guess."
"Ah... ah!?"