The inside of the train was much as Morris had imagined: it looked like the most ordinary train imaginable.
Excited students packed the carriages, and their noisy chatter and laughter carried clearly through the doors.
He had arrived a little too late and failed to find an empty compartment.
There was no helping it. Although he preferred quiet, he would have to make do.
Finally, near the middle of the train, he spotted a compartment with only three students inside.
One was a pale blond boy with a pointed chin. Opposite him sat two large, chubby children.
The blond boy was saying something in a sharp tone, while the other two nodded along.
Morris knocked on the partition.
The conversation inside stopped abruptly.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward the doorway at once.
The blond boy looked Morris up and down, his gaze lingering briefly on his plain robes and the black cat. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"What do you want?" The blond boy sounded slightly annoyed at being disturbed.
"Excuse me, is there a spare seat here?" Morris asked calmly, as though he had not noticed the distance the other boy was deliberately creating.
The blond boy did not answer immediately. Another boy beside him spoke in a coarse voice, his exclusionary intent obvious. "It's full. Draco doesn't like being disturbed."
The blond boy called Draco lifted his pointed chin, seemingly quite pleased with his companion's reply.
"Sorry to bother you," Morris replied politely.
Since they had made their position clear, he would not bore them by forcing his company on them.
But just as he turned to leave, he keenly caught a distinct click of the tongue from inside the compartment.
Then came the blond boy's undisguised sneer. "Tsk... another one who doesn't know the rules. Look at those robes, and that weird cat. Probably another Mudblood."
The malice in his tone made Morris pause.
Mudblood?
That doesn't sound like a nice word.
Forget it. Why take a few children seriously?
If there's a chance next time, I'll give them a little lesson.
Brats need the iron fist of justice to keep them in line.
He shook his head lightly and continued looking for a seat.
"Hello, are there any spare seats here?"
"Uh... come in, if you don't mind."
"Thank you."
This time, the compartment held three children considerably bigger than him. They clearly were not first years.
A pair of redheaded twins-obviously, since they looked exactly alike. There was also a tall, dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks.
Morris left his luggage outside the compartment and sat beside the boy with dreadlocks, holding Guantou.
"Um... hello," the boy greeted him hesitantly.
"Hello." Morris nodded, his reply equally brief.
He adjusted his breathing, straightened his back slightly, then slowly closed his eyes and quickly entered a meditative state.
The black cat in his arms seemed affected by the atmosphere too. He stretched, curled up, and closed his eyes.
For a moment, a peculiar silence settled over the compartment.
The other three exchanged glances, a trace of bafflement appearing on each of their faces.
What a strange person.
"Ahem." The boy with dreadlocks cleared his throat, trying to break the somewhat eerie silence.
He turned sideways and asked Morris, who appeared to be resting with his eyes closed, "Are you a first year?"
Morris opened his eyes immediately.
He had only wanted a quiet ride to Hogwarts, but since the other boy had started a conversation, not answering would have been rather rude.
"Yes," Morris replied with a smile.
"I'm Lee Jordan." Seeing him respond, the boy with dreadlocks seemed relieved.
For some reason, he had felt an indescribable aura around Morris just now.
It was as though a voice were telling him he had better not get close.
Lee Jordan pointed at the redheaded twins opposite them. "These are Fred Weasley and George Weasley. We're third years in Gryffindor."
"I'm Morris Black. Just call me Morris," Morris said simply.
"Black!?"
Fred and George exclaimed in unison. As though someone had stepped on both their tails at once, they abruptly sat upright, their relaxed grins vanishing in an instant.
The atmosphere in the compartment suddenly grew tense.
"What's wrong?" Morris was a little taken aback.
George stared intently at Morris and asked cautiously, "Your parents are...?"
That was hardly a polite question.
Still, Morris had roughly realized what the problem was.
Presumably, someone or some family called "Black" was famous in the wizarding world.
"Oh, don't overthink it," Morris replied calmly. "I'm from the Muggle side."
Fred and George let out long breaths almost simultaneously and relaxed against their seats again.
"That's good, then." Fred grinned.
A trace of puzzlement flashed through Morris's silver-gray eyes. "Is there something wrong with the surname Black in the wizarding world?"
The twins looked at each other.
"Nothing, don't worry about it." George took over, waving a hand and speaking lightly. "It's just that in the wizarding world, some surnames are... well... rather unpleasant, you know. Like Malfoy..."
Perhaps thinking of something inherently funny about that surname, the two exchanged a glance and burst out laughing together.
It was the kind of understanding shared by twins.
Morris indicated that he did not understand, but had no intention of pursuing the matter.
Probably something to do with the history between wizarding families.
He had bought a few miscellaneous books on wizarding history in Diagon Alley earlier and already had a general understanding of the wizarding world.
Speaking of which, the origin of Morris's surname was rather ridiculous.
He had grown up in an orphanage. Although he had possessed his own awareness back then, a small child's memories were very muddled.
He had forgotten how old he had been when his clear memories began.
But he had heard one of the carers back then mention that he had drawn his surname in a lottery.
Perhaps for fun, a carer at the time had put a large pile of slips bearing different names into an old hat and had several nameless children at the orphanage take turns drawing them.
Morris had been one of them.
That was where the name "Morris Black" had come from.
A rather uncommon name.
Of course, that was only what he had heard. Who knew the actual details?
In any case, he had no particular attachment to his name. It was just a label.
Just then, Lee Jordan's attention was drawn to the black cat on Morris's lap.
He pointed at Guantou and asked, "Did you buy your cat in Diagon Alley?"
Fred and George immediately cast curious looks his way too.
They had been interested in the cat from the start.
Vacant eyes, a cold aura.
That had been their first impression of Guantou.
The undead cat seemed to realize he had become the subject of conversation. He lazily lifted his eyelids, his eerie eyes sweeping over Lee Jordan, who felt an inexplicable chill.
"No, I didn't buy him." Morris shook his head. "He's just a stray I picked up."
This casual answer brought a look of disapproval to Lee Jordan's face.
"Hey, mate," he said with the air of someone speaking from experience, "cats in the Muggle world are all stupid. They basically can't do anything except eat and sleep. If you want a cat, you'd be better off buying one from the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. The cats there are much cleverer. Some can even help you find things or warn you of danger."
Fred and George nodded in agreement beside him.
"Hmm..." Morris rubbed his chin. "But my cat is very clever. He can even do acrobatics."
He set Guantou on the floor and ordered with a perfectly straight face, "Good kitty, do the splits."
Guantou's eyes instantly filled with remarkably human, utterly undisguised contempt.
He even tilted his head slightly, as though questioning whether something was wrong with his owner's brain.
"Absolutely useless." Morris clicked his tongue in distaste. "Fireworks are better after all..."
Guantou immediately and obediently performed a perfect split.
"!"
The other three watched, dumbstruck.