The next morning, Morris woke up on the ship and went straight to the living room.
Phoebe was still there, lying on her side on the sofa with her eyes closed and her breathing even.
A dark blue blanket covered her from her shoulders to her ankles, presumably placed there by the Champion next to her.
She fell asleep—this is something that can easily happen while watching a movie.
Morris went to his workshop after dinner last night to count the more than three hundred Inferi he had brought from Somerset, and didn't pay attention to the situation outside until midnight.
The video on the television had stopped playing, and Morris walked over and pressed the shut-off button.
At the same time, Phoebe rolled over, and the blanket slipped down her shoulders.
The Champion went over and covered himself with the blanket again, then retreated to the fireplace.
What a thoughtful and kind skeleton.
At this moment, Phoebe opened her eyes.
"What time is it?" Phoebe's voice was a little hoarse. She sat up from the sofa, looked at the light streaming in from the window, and paused for a moment. "Oh no."
She hurriedly got up and began to fix her hair.
"No need to rush," Morris said calmly.
"I have an appointment with Mrs Lawson this morning to have breakfast and discuss next month's broom order." Phoebe glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to go now, goodbye."
She immediately Apparition away, appearing to be in a real hurry.
Morris shrugged.
In fact, he hadn't expected that Phoebe would actually accept his employment and help him deal with the flying broomsticks.
At that time, he only invited the other party on a whim.
In retrospect, this was a very good choice.
As he thought, Phoebe was a very responsible person, well... at least much more responsible than him, her boss.
Morris went out onto the deck. It had started pouring rain outside, and the raindrops were pattering on the bottles outside the ship.
He patted his pocket, and a small Bone Dragon poked its head out, hanging from the edge of the pocket, the flames in its eye sockets flickering a few times.
"Time to get to work," Morris said.
The Bone Dragon immediately flew out of the pocket, flapping its wings and soaring upwards.
Just as its head was about to hit the bottle, a small opening automatically appeared there.
The Bone Dragon emerged from the cave, and the area immediately closed up, Reparo without leaving any trace.
It flew straight to the front of the bottle, its shape gradually returning to normal. At the same time, a thick rope extended from the bottle's mouth and tightly wrapped around its body.
"Set off!"
The Bone Dragon flapped its wings, carrying the Ship in a Bottle into the sky.
Upon seeing this, Morris nodded slightly.
Although the current energy crystal reserves are very large, the consumption of the Ship in a Bottle is negligible, but the power of the runes is ultimately limited, and the flight speed is only comparable to that of an ordinary small airplane.
The involvement of the Bone Dragon can save a lot of time.
The ship jolted, and its speed suddenly increased.
"We must find a more efficient way to drive it," Morris muttered to himself.
The current speed is sufficient for Earth travel, but it's completely inadequate for space travel.
universe.
This word lingered in Morris's mind for a long time.
He himself can't remember when he first had the idea of exploring the universe.
The universe signifies infinite space, infinite unknowns, and infinite possibilities.
This is exactly what he is pursuing.
Thinking of this, Morris couldn't help but shake his head.
There's no need to overthink things now; the most important thing is to keep moving forward steadily.
Nurmengard.
This black stone tower stands on the cliffs of the Alps, surrounded by snow and wind for most of the year.
Inside the cage at the very top of the stone tower, Gellert Grindelwald was eating a plate of stewed beans with a blank expression.
The beans had cooled, and a layer of grayish-white oil had formed on their surface, making them look completely unappetizing under the dim light of a candle.
But Grindelwald didn't care and continued to consume this energy, which was only enough to sustain his life.
"Hello!"
A sudden sound rang out in the darkness. Grindelwald slowly turned around and saw a young man he had seen before.
Morris appeared in the corner of the cell at some point, sitting on an overturned iron barrel.
" Morris Black?" Grindelwald raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I thought you could Prophecy my arrival." Morris stood up, his tone casual, and walked up to Grindelwald.
" Prophecy?" Grindelwald picked up a tissue and wiped his mouth, his expression calm. "I rarely use that ability anymore."
"Why not use it?" Morris asked curiously.
In his view, Prophecy was a very convenient thing.
Knowing what will happen in the future allows us to prepare in advance, avoid risks, and seize opportunities.
"That's not important." Grindelwald waved his hand, looking at Morris with sharp eyes in the dim light. "What is your purpose in coming here?"
Morris strolled casually through the cell, his boots making a slow, rhythmic clatter on the stone floor.
"Just chatting," he said, glancing around. "Are there still no prison guards here?"
Grindelwald pushed the plate aside; it was empty. He slowly stood up and sat back down on his bed.
"Ever since you came last time, they've been coming every now and then to check if I'm still here."
"Every so often?"
"A few weeks, I guess."
"I think it's a good thing," Morris shrugged, "At least I can find someone to talk to."
Grindelwald didn't continue the conversation, but instead urged, "Tell me, what's your real purpose?"
Morris stopped and turned around.
"I know you are a Prophet, so I wanted to ask how one can make Prophecy, or rather, what the principles of Prophecy are?"
He had no other ulterior motives; he was simply curious, which was why he came to find Grindelwald.
Grindelwald was silent for a moment, then gently shook his head. "No one can forcibly foresee the future; you can only glimpse it when the future chooses to let you see it. As for the principle—there is no principle."
Morris agreed with the first part of the statement.
If Grindelwald had been able to Prophet everything, he wouldn't have ended up like this.
"Can you make Prophecy?" he asked.
"The success rate isn't one hundred percent," Grindelwald replied without hesitation. "Besides, sometimes what you see isn't what will actually happen, and it can even interfere with your judgment. Don't believe too much in so-called Prophecy, child."
Morris stroked his chin and asked, "So I can't be a Seer?"
"Yes," Grindelwald answered crisply, leaving no room for negotiation.
"Don't come looking for me again. Leave. Someone will be checking this room soon."