"Some of you may have already heard that Hogwarts will be hosting a special event this year."
" The Triwizard Tournament!"
"This is a centuries-old traditional event, hosted in rotation by the three magic schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. This year, we've decided to revive it."
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive at the end of October, at which time we will select representatives from each school to participate in the competition using the fairest methods possible..."
Dumbledore gave a brief overview of the Triwizard Tournament.
The entire Great Hall erupted in chaos, with students at the four long tables whispering amongst themselves.
Upon hearing such explosive news, no one could remain calm.
Kyle was no exception; he nudged Morris's arm and asked excitedly, " Morris, are you going to participate?"
"Of course," Morris nodded. "Why not?"
Kyle's excitement quickly faded, and he sighed, saying, "Do I still have a chance?"
Should he be sent to compete with Morris?
The thought alone is somewhat disheartening.
"However! There are conditions for registration!"
Dumbledore's voice came from above again.
The chatter in the Great Hall fell silent almost instantly, and everyone looked at the principal, afraid of missing any important news.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"The initial decision by the participating schools and the Ministry of Magic was that only students aged seven or older could register. This was for your safety."
"However, after careful discussion, we believe that is not fair. Using age as the sole criterion cannot truly measure a student's ability to meet the challenges of the Triwizard Tournament."
"Therefore, we have decided that anyone who can pass the first test can register."
As soon as he finished speaking, the Great Hall became lively again.
Morris saw Dumbledore wink at him.
Just then, a loud voice came from the Gryffindor desk. "Professor, what is the test?"
The person asking the question was Fred.
Dumbledore just smiled mysteriously, "You'll find out in time. Now, it's time to go back to the common room."
He waved his hand and announced the end of the banquet.
A series of disappointed sighs echoed through the Great Hall.
After the banquet, the students returned to their respective college's common room.
In the Ravenclaw lounge, the discussion revolved entirely around the Triwizard Tournament.
As soon as Morris walked in, he heard a senior student, two years his senior, say, "I think the most promising one is Morris Black. Although he's only a fourth-year student, his skeleton magic, ah, it's really powerful. I heard even Marcus Flint of Slytherin is afraid of him."
" Flint has already graduated," said Cho Chang, who was standing nearby. "And I think Black's magic is a bit scary."
Horrible? What's so scary about it?
Upon hearing this, Morris paused in his tracks and waved gently.
A skeleton soldier slowly appeared beside Qiu Zhang, making a "click-clack" sound.
Qiu Zhang froze instantly, as if he had been Petrificus Totalus, unable to move.
Morris stepped forward, patted the skeleton soldier's pelvis, and said sincerely, "Don't you think it's cute?"
The lounge was silent for several seconds.
Everyone had a "What is this guy saying?" look on their faces.
Finally, Cho Chang snapped out of her daze and said helplessly to Morris, "Don't scare me, Morris."
Morris waved his hand, signaling the skeleton soldiers to step aside. "Aren't you used to my skeletons yet?"
He often fiddles with these skeletons in the lounge; the students here should be quite familiar with them.
"This has nothing to do with habit." Qiu Zhang shook his head, glanced to the side, and said in a low voice, "Besides, you scared them too."
Morris followed her gaze and saw several first-year wizards huddled together, trembling as they stared at his skeleton.
Especially the new students from Muggle families.
They were clearly not yet accustomed to the wonders of the magical world, let alone a skeleton that could walk on its own.
Morris's eyes lit up.
This is a good opportunity.
Aesthetic appreciation should be cultivated from a young age!
He immediately decided to showcase his skeletal aesthetics to his successors.
So, on their first night at Hogwarts, the Ravenclaw freshmen all suffered from insomnia.
Morris slept very well last night.
The next morning, he walked out of the lounge full of energy and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.
A few students were already walking around in the corridor.
As he descended the spiral staircase, he bumped into Draco and his two rather dim-witted henchmen.
Draco didn't seem to want to talk to him.
The moment he saw Morris, his expression turned cold, and he turned to the side, trying to avoid him.
However, Morris stepped in front of the other party.
Draco stopped and asked warily, "What is it?"
"Let me make this clear, I'm not trying to cause you any trouble." Morris smiled, his tone gentle. "How's your father?"
Upon hearing this, Draco immediately tensed up. "What do you mean by that?"
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a bewildered glance behind him.
"Just asking."
"My father is fine," Draco said coldly. "Don't worry about it."
"That's good." Morris nodded and continued, "I don't know if your father mentioned it to you, but he attacked me during the Quidditch World Cup. And when I fought back, I cast a rather troublesome little spell on him. Are you really alright?"
If Lucius sends it, he'll probably be in some trouble.
Who knows if the Ministry of Magic will find him through some special means?
Although he believed he acted in self-defense, it was never a good thing to be branded as a murderer.
Upon hearing this, Draco's expression completely changed.
He shouted in a panic, "You're lying!"
The commotion even caught the attention of students upstairs; several heads peeked out from the stair railing, peering down curiously.
"Whether I'm lying or not, you should be able to tell," Morris said calmly. "Since your father is alright, goodbye."
"Wait!" Draco clenched his fist and asked in a low voice, "What magic did you use on my father?"
"Guess." Morris smiled slightly.
That despicable guy!
Draco's anger had reached its peak.
As Morris said, his father suddenly fell seriously ill after the Quidditch World Cup.
They spent a lot of precious Potions and consulted many doctors before they were finally cured.
More importantly, his father didn't explain anything afterward, only warning him not to ask any more questions.
So that's how it is!
"Your magic means nothing to my father," Draco forced out through gritted teeth. "Don't think you're so great, Black."
"Then I'm relieved." Morris shook his head. "Goodbye."
He deliberately stepped aside and walked past Draco with steady steps.
Draco stood there, silent for a long time.
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, neither daring to speak first.