Phoebe was probably visiting a place like this for the first time, and she looked around curiously.
"Two Butterbeer." Morris led her to the bar, took two clean glasses from his pocket, and handed them to her.
Aberforth didn't even glance at him, turned around and took two glasses of Butterbeer from the bucket behind him, placing them on the bar in those heavy ceramic cups with chipped edges.
Morris met his gaze for a second, then silently put his cup back into his pocket.
Well, the cups are clean enough today.
Phoebe paid faster than Morris.
"It's my treat," she said matter-of-factly. "Consider it a thank you for bringing me here today."
Morris didn't stand on ceremony either.
The two sat down at a greasy table in the corner. The stains on the tabletop looked old, piled up in layers.
"This isn't a good place for a date," Phoebe said. "The environment is terrible."
"Yeah," Morris said, sipping his Butterbeer and glancing around the dimly lit bar. "Most of the people here are from outside the community, a few students too. Look around, lots of people are watching us."
Indeed, half the people in the bar were staring at them, or more accurately, staring at Phoebe.
Phoebe said unhurriedly, "Let's leave after we finish drinking. I don't like it here."
"I don't dislike it." Morris shrugged.
The two started chatting, and the others gradually looked away. Soon, no one paid any attention to them anymore.
Just then, the door was pushed open, and a particularly conspicuous person walked into the bar.
It was Hagrid. He ordered two large glasses of unidentified liquor, sat down at the table next to Morris, and began to drink in silence.
He seemed completely oblivious to Morris and Phoebe.
Phoebe looked at the large figure's back and asked softly, "Is that your professor for the Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid, right?"
"That's right," Morris nodded, then added, "But recently Professor Grubbly-Plank has been teaching us."
"Why?" Fleur asked doubtfully, "Is he sick?"
"It's probably because of that report."
What report?
Morris reached into his pocket, pulled out a neatly folded newspaper, and handed it to him.
"How did you manage to carry so much stuff on you?" Phoebe asked curiously as she took the newspaper, then looked down at it.
She read the newspaper quietly, while Morris watched Hagrid chug down glass after glass of wine— Aberforth poured for him countless times.
"No wonder he's Half-blood- Giant; he's fine even after drinking so much," Morris thought to himself.
"I see..." Phoebe put down her newspaper, her brow furrowed. "It's very unfair. It's true that some people are prejudiced against wizards with other bloodlines, but to write about such prejudice in an article and publish it in the newspaper is going too far."
As a descendant of the Veela, although she did not experience the same naked attack as Hagrid, the feeling of being stared at and pointed at was just as unbearable.
She could empathize to some extent.
"That's really going too far," Morris said.
The author of this report is Rita Skeeter, who plans to have a proper "chat" with the other person when they meet again.
He didn't dislike Hagrid's simple nature and was happy to lend a helping hand.
"Actually," Morris picked up his empty glass, swirled it, and then put it down, "I think having Giant blood is actually an advantage. Hagrid is much larger, and his resistance to spells is several times that of ordinary wizards, something ordinary wizards cannot do."
"Is that so?" Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "For me, the Veela bloodline has indeed brought some benefits, I won't deny that, but it has also brought a lot of trouble, as you should have already seen."
Morris then asked, "Could you tell me exactly what abilities your Veela bloodline granted you?"
"This appearance..." Phoebe asked with a strange expression, "Don't you already know?"
"That's not what I meant," Morris shook his head. "Is there anything else? Like throwing fireballs? Or conjuring bird heads? You really can't cast those kinds of spells?"
Phoebe: "... No."
Why, after all this time, is this guy still wondering if she can conjure up a bird's head?
She remembered that she had already given a clear answer.
Morris shook his head. "What a pity. You're not much different from the average person."
Phoebe looked at him, her lips twitching slightly, unsure whether to be angry or laugh.
She tossed her hair and said confidently, "No matter what, I'm Champion of Beauxbatons, which proves I'm the best."
Morris calmly replied, "You don't need to show off in front of me, I'm Champion too."
Phoebe was speechless for a moment, then smiled slightly.
She had begun to get used to Morris's outspoken nature.
I even kind of like it.
Ten minutes later, the two left the Hog's Head and walked down a side street.
Morris suddenly stopped walking without warning.
Phoebe was bending down to tidy up the snowflakes on her clothes when she almost bumped into his back.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking up.
Morris did not answer immediately, but instead looked up at the sky.
The flower appeared in their field of vision, landed on the fence beside them, and pointed behind them with its wings.
"Someone was following us when we left the Hog's Head," Morris said in a low voice.
Furong wondered, "Who will follow us?"
They were just two ordinary students.
Morris shook his head. "I don't know. Anyway, I need to catch him. Don't look back, lest we alert him."
He led Phoebe into an even more secluded alley.
This road is not on Hogsmeade's main thoroughfare; on both sides are several old shops that look like they haven't been visited in a long time, with dust covering their windows.
There were no footprints on the ground, so it was clear that few people walked here.
The alley narrowed, and the walls on both sides drew closer until a corner appeared ahead.
"After you turn the corner, stand against the wall," Morris told Phoebe.
Phoebe nodded nervously.
She had no idea what had happened, but chose to believe Morris.
The two turned the corner, Morris immediately stood against the wall, raising his wand to his chest. Phoebe also took out her wand.
A faint, almost inaudible footstep sounded; the thing was approaching.
Getting closer and closer.
" Stupefy!"
When the time was right, Morris appeared in a flash, his wand pointing straight ahead, shooting out a beam of red light.
Unsure of the other party's identity, he used the safest, non-lethal spell.
The spell hit!
However, the man was completely concealed in a black robe, and his body only swayed slightly; he did not fall down as Morris had expected.
"Who is it?" Morris asked gravely.
The man in black robes did not answer, but silently waved his wand.
With a "snap," he Apparition and left the scene.