While Morris was engrossed in eating a Pumpkin Pasties, the people around him were still discussing the Triwizard Tournament with great enthusiasm.
Kyle, too, was arguing with a few girls about who had the best chance of becoming Champion.
Marietta said, " Hufflepuff thinks their Cedric has the best chance, there's a portion of Gryffindor who support Harry Potter, and then there's Slytherin; they have several options."
After she finished speaking, she deliberately cast an expectant glance at Morris.
Although he's only in fourth grade this year, Morris is undoubtedly the most outstanding Ravenclaw student.
His appearance and academic performance were both impeccable.
Aside from his unusual use of magic and his somewhat peculiar hobbies, he was almost a perfect Ravenclaw.
Okay, there might also be some issues with his personality.
For example, right now, while they're all enthusiastically discussing Champion roster picks, Morris is focused on munching on a Pumpkin Pasties.
Oh, and that Pumpkin Pasties had a lethal dose of sugar sprinkled on it, what a horrible thing...
Morris noticed the piercing stares and suddenly spoke up, "I'll win the Champion if they select me to participate."
"Ah, I knew you'd say that," Marietta laughed.
"Me too," Kyle nodded in agreement.
Morris always spoke like that, with an air of self-assurance.
Just like after every exam, if someone asks him how well he did, he will confidently answer that he was first in the grade.
And that is indeed the case.
At that moment, Kyle suddenly took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind, "I'll sign up and give it a try too."
However, nobody cared.
Only Morris raised his arm, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Good luck."
66
.. Thanks."
Kyle's confidence suddenly wavered a little.
Amidst the lively atmosphere, the day's classes successfully concluded.
In the evening, Morris followed Ravenclaw's party to the castle.
The professors and students from other colleges had already lined up here, standing in the cold wind, waiting for the delegation from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to arrive.
Beauxbatons Morris knew nothing about the two schools, but Durmstrang had looked up relevant information.
This school is located in Northern Europe and is open to international students. I've heard that the curriculum includes Dark Magic.
He had considered transferring to that school, but unfortunately, Durmstrang did not accept Muggle students.
Of course, Hogwarts is great. Morris has grown attached to it and doesn't plan to leave unless absolutely necessary...
" Mr. Black, what's in your mouth?"
"Pear hard candy, Professor McGonagall."
"Spit it out!"
"Oh."
Morris chewed the candy and swallowed it.
Professor McGonagall nodded slightly, pacing back and forth in front of them like a cat patrolling its territory, her expression serious. "Get your appearance in order! The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegation will be arriving soon, and I don't want them to see Hogwarts students all crooked and disheveled."
This tone suddenly reminded Morris of his high school dean in his previous life.
Perhaps that's why, no matter how strict Professor McGonagall was, he always felt a sense of warmth towards her.
As darkness fell, the delegations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang soon arrived one after the other.
The men of Beauxbatons descended from the sky in a blue and pink carriage drawn by twelve divine horses. Headmistress Abraxan Madame Maxime was a woman taller than Hagrid, and Morris guessed that she also had Giant blood.
Durmstrang suddenly emerged from the Black Lake. It was a huge sailing ship, its hull covered with barnacles and seaweed, much like a legendary ghost ship. The principal was named Karkaroff, tall and thin, with an unsightly goatee.
"One came from the sky, the other from the water," Kyle commented softly. "Not bad, but I think that ship isn't as good as your Ship in a Bottle, Morris."
Morris did not answer, his gaze fixed on the Abraxan being led away by Hagrid.
Those horses were tall and strong, almost the size of adult elephants; their skeletal structures must have been quite unique...
"Go inside, everyone. The banquet will begin soon." Professor McGonagall's voice came from the front, interrupting his dangerous thoughts.
Everyone rushed into the Great Hall, and the warm light of the candles immediately kept out the cold wind.
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had only about twenty students in total, and Hogwarts did not assign them specific seats; they were scattered among the various houses.
Morris sat next to a Beauxbatons student, but he was wrapped up tightly, with only a few strands of silver hair showing—a very rare hair color.
"Hello." Morris greeted him simply, then his gaze fell on the row of exquisite French pastries on the table. (The House-elf were working incredibly hard.)
Kyle said to his other side, "Why does dessert always come first to you?"
Morris smiled slightly.
Dessert was supposed to be served last, but he had personally asked the House-elf in the kitchen to persuade them to serve some of the desserts ahead of time.
Two minutes after the banquet began, the Beauxbatons student next to Morris stood up and left, but quickly returned with a bowl of mixed fish soup.
At this moment, she had removed the scarf covering her face.
Her long, silvery hair cascaded down to her waist like a waterfall, and her features were so exquisite they seemed unreal.
Kyle stared at her blankly for a moment, then nudged Morris, who was engrossed in his food, with his elbow and whispered, "Look over there."
Morris glanced at it from the side.
Oh, I see.
Most of Beauxbatons ' students possess Veela blood—half? Or a quarter?
Perhaps that's why many boys on Ravenclaw's table turned to look at her.
Morris showed some interest, put down his fork, and turned to the silver-haired girl. "Hello, I'm Morris Black."
The girl seemed to have anticipated his response, and smiled gently, " Phoebe Delacour."
Her tone was somewhat perfunctory, and she seemed unwilling to talk to Morris any further.
Morris didn't mince words, directly asking the question that mattered most to him at that moment, " Miss Delacour, do you have Veela blood?"
This is clearly quite offensive.
Kyle coughed violently twice, then hurriedly said, "I'm sorry, Miss Delacour, Morris just wanted to say you're very beautiful."
Phoebe ignored him, her expression instantly turning cold. After tossing her hair, she said, " Mr. Black, what is this to you?"
Kyle was somewhat helpless at that moment.
Oh no, I messed it up.
He knew Morris meant no harm, but the way he spoke was really stiff.
Who asks someone this kind of question right off the bat?
Thank goodness it was Morris; if it had been anyone else, he would have thought they were deliberately picking a fight.