Grindelwald was clearly trying to get rid of him.
But Morris didn't care. Leaning against the wall, he continued to ask himself, " Mr. Grindelwald, could you give me a Prophecy? Any kind of Prophecy will do. For example, what will happen to me in the future?"
Grindelwald was taken aback for a moment, then laughed.
Why? Why would I do this?
"Well...
Morris tilted his head, thought seriously for a few seconds, and then hesitantly said, "Shall I invite you to another meal?"
There was a moment of silence in the cell.
Grindelwald shook his head.
There's no way to persuade him.
"Alright," Morris sighed, straightened up, and put his hands in his pockets. "I can't force an old man, sir. Goodbye."
He turned and walked towards the door, which was just inches away.
"Etc."
Grindelwald's voice suddenly rang out.
Morris stopped and slowly turned around.
Grindelwald sat on the edge of the bed, staring intently at him.
Something was different in that gaze; it seemed as if a thin mist covered it, obscuring it.
Morris walked up to Grindelwald. "You've changed your mind?"
Grindelwald nodded.
Morris immediately asked, "What should I do?"
Professor Trelawney had also made Prophecy to him, but the Prophecy was completely without warning and its timing was unpredictable.
Grindelwald did not answer the question, but said in a low voice, "My Prophecy abilities rarely provide information specific to individuals, and are most likely to fail."
"That's alright," Morris said.
He just wanted to know how Grindelwald initiated the Prophecy.
Perhaps he can find some clues from it and deduce the principle of Prophecy.
He was more concerned with the process of Prophecy than the result.
"Give me some of your blood," Grindelwald said, picking up the disc from the floor.
There were still some bean residues left in the plate.
Is it really that casual?
Morris muttered something to himself, and as instructed, raised his right hand to perform the Blood Extraction Spell.
The blood flowed in and quickly spread across the bottom of the plate, covering about one-third of the area.
"Is that enough?" Morris asked.
Grindelwald lowered his head, his gaze falling on the plate, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
His expression was very focused, as if he were identifying something.
"Your blood," Grindelwald began, "Is different from that of ordinary wizards."
"I know," Morris said.
While the blood of ordinary wizards possesses magical properties and power, it is not readily apparent.
His blood was completely different; its magical concentration was so high that it could even be detected by a highly perceptive wizard.
He was more like some kind of Magical Creatures than a wizard.
So, when exactly did this change begin?
When Morris was in his first year of school, he stored some of his own blood, and at that time he was no different from an ordinary wizard.
But in any case, this is not a bad thing.
"What's next?" Morris asked. "What else needs to be done?"
"If all goes well, a pattern connected to your future will appear on the plate."
Grindelwald said, staring blankly at the plate, as if in a daze.
"... Mr. Grindelwald?" Morris called out after waiting for half a minute.
Grindelwald then snapped out of his daze, blinked, and looked away.
"It's over," he said.
Morris had no idea what was happening. In his view, the liquid in the dish remained unchanged, and Grindelwald himself showed no signs of casting any spells.
That's it?
Grindelwald remained calm and explained, "In my view, your blood looks different."
Morris then asked, "So what did you see?"
Grindelwald shook his head and held out a hand. "Give me a wand and a container."
Magic wand?
Morris hesitated for a second.
Giving a criminal a magic wand? That would undoubtedly be a crazy attempt.
It doesn't matter.
Morris drew his spare wand from his waist and took an empty crystal bottle used for Potions from his pocket, handing it over.
Grindelwald took it, but his expression remained calm and unchanging.
He touched his wand and said, "Hopefully I remember how to do it."
The next second, he pressed the wand against his temple and slowly pulled it out.
A wisp of silvery-white memory, like a spider's silk, was extracted and, guided by the other party, entered the crystal bottle.
After doing all this, Grindelwald immediately returned the crystal bottle and wand to Morris.
"The memory will only last for a month. Through this memory, you will be able to see what I have seen," Grindelwald said, his voice a little hoarser than before.
Morris took it, puzzled, and asked, "Why did you have to extract the memories? Couldn't you just tell me verbally?"
This is truly a baffling operation.
Grindelwald simply shook his head. "Because I don't need this memory. Now that you've achieved your goal, go."
After leaving Nurmengard, Morris returned to the Ship in a Bottle and began his return journey.
He stood on the deck, raised the small bottle containing his memories, and shook it.
In the end, he still didn't understand what Prophecy abilities were all about.
Grindelwald just now undoubtedly used his Prophecy ability—the other party had no reason to lie to him.
However, he couldn't sense any fluctuations in magic power, nor could he glean anything useful from the other party's actions.
What a wasted trip.
The only gain was this memory in his hand, but as Grindelwald said, Prophecy means nothing.
What the future holds is ultimately up to him.
But now that he has it, he'll definitely take a look at the contents of this memory.
These extracted memories are difficult to view directly and require the aid of tools, such as Pensieve.
Coincidentally, Dumbledore had such a basin, which was placed in the Headmaster's Office.
Let me borrow it.
Two days later, Morris returned to Hogwarts.
Yesterday he wrote to Dumbledore, hoping to borrow the Pensieve, and the latter readily agreed.
As he passed through the courtyard, he also saw Filch— Hogwarts ' janitor, who must also be working during the summer holidays.
Morris did not disturb the other party, but went directly to the Headmaster's Office.
"Knock knock!"
"Come in."
Dumbledore's voice came from behind the door, and Morris immediately pushed the door open and entered.
To his surprise, Sirius was also inside.
After a brief greeting...
" The Pensieve is over there," Dumbledore, pointing to a shallow stone basin beside him. "Perfect timing, I just finished organizing my memories; it's empty."
He did not ask Morris why he used the Pensieve.