The next morning.
Normally, mornings were free time for the children at the orphanage.
But since they had made almost no progress cleaning the yard yesterday, they were told to gather there again and continue the irritating work.
Morris still did not particularly care.
He could always find an opportunity to slack off anyway.
He could also tease his undead cat from time to time.
Guantou, his undead cat, was almost no different from an ordinary cat. The only advantage might have been greater speed.
That allowed it to escape every time the stray cats ganged up on it.
As for why the stray cats had singled it out...
Well, the little one was a troublemaker.
Morris had already gained a thorough understanding of his stupid cat's nature.
Whenever it saw stray cats or other stray animals outside, it would go over and provoke them.
Its antics included, but were not limited to: stealing food, tugging tails, and pushing the soundly sleeping leader of the stray cats into a puddle...
Yeah, you deserved it.
"Mr. Black."
The sudden voice interrupted Morris's thoughts.
He turned and discovered an unfamiliar middle-aged man in the yard.
Morris was certain the man was calling him, because unless he remembered incorrectly, he was the only person here with the surname Black.
But he did not recognize the man before him.
Wait!
Morris narrowed his eyes and studied him for a few seconds.
He was a typical middle-aged man who had run to fat, with a bulky figure and thinning hair. His few remaining greasy strands had been carefully combed in an attempt to cover that barren patch.
Hair loss was always the saddest thing for a middle-aged man.
Fortunately, Morris did not have that problem yet.
"Mr. Black," the man called again. "Come over here, please."
"Yes, Mr. Green," Morris replied immediately, jogging over to the man.
He had recognized who the man was.
It was Harold Green, the person in charge of this children's home.
Although he was in charge, Morris remembered that their last meeting had been at Christmas the previous year.
Fortunately, he still had some recollection of that slightly old-fashioned name and had not called him the wrong one.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Green?" Morris asked obediently, while rapidly considering why the man in charge had suddenly come looking for him.
He did not seem to have made any major mistakes lately that would warrant alerting the management.
Or rather, he had never deliberately done anything wrong.
Harold looked Morris up and down with his small eyes buried deep in fat, then asked, "If I remember correctly, Mr. Black, you'll be starting secondary school this year. Which school?"
"Northwood Comprehensive School, sir," Morris replied.
As expected, it was about school.
As an orphan, now that he had received an acceptance letter from Hogwarts, a Hogwarts professor would surely come to handle his enrollment.
Clearly, the person in charge here had already received the relevant information.
But since it was not yet confirmed, Morris still chose the safest answer.
Harold nodded slightly at this, then a trace of unease flashed through his eyes.
"Well..." He paused, then said, "Do you have any other plans? Someone in charge at another school asked me whether you would be willing to attend their school."
"Which school?"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Harold replied with a rather peculiar expression.
The man in charge took Morris to the reception room.
The day had finally come, and he could not help feeling a little excited.
As soon as he stepped into the reception room, he saw an oddly dressed elderly woman standing by the wall, seemingly studying the cheap landscape print hanging there.
Someone from Hogwarts.
Morris reached that conclusion almost immediately.
Harold led him over to the elderly woman.
Only then could he study the person before him closely. She was a woman who looked far from young but was particularly vigorous, her hair meticulously pulled back into a tight bun. She also wore dark robes.
"This is Professor McGonagall," Harold introduced her, looking relieved to have completed his task.
Professor McGonagall inclined her head slightly, her sharp gaze settling on Morris.
Unexpectedly, Morris felt no discomfort under that gaze.
"I am Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Professor McGonagall said in a steady voice. "Hello, Mr. Black."
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Morris greeted her politely. "I've already seen your name on the letter."
The corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth relaxed slightly into a measured smile. "Then you must have read the letter and already know something about Hogwarts."
"Yes, but all I know is that it's a school called Hogwarts." Morris nodded.
"Very good." Professor McGonagall nodded, seemingly satisfied with Morris's answer.
She summed it up concisely. "In short, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a place that teaches young witches and wizards how to use magic properly. According to our records, you have turned eleven and demonstrated magical talent, and have therefore qualified for admission."
Next, Professor McGonagall briefly introduced the basics of Hogwarts and explained why young witches and wizards needed to learn magic.
"Would you be willing to attend Hogwarts?"
"Of course, Professor."
Naturally, Morris had no reason to refuse.
Meanwhile, Harold, standing to one side, was somewhat bewildered.
Although he had already learned of magic's existence from the mysterious woman before him, and it had been proven to him, hearing words like "use magic" come from such a stern and proper-looking elderly woman still struck him as somewhat absurd.
Damn it, had he fried his brain doing drugs last night?
No, he hadn't taken any drugs last night at all.
"Mr. Green?"
Only when Harold came to his senses did he realize that both of them had been staring at him.
"Wh-what is it?" he asked with a slight stammer, instinctively wiping his forehead.
Professor McGonagall's expression became serious again, her voice clear. "Mr. Green, since Mr. Black has agreed to enroll, I need to ask you about some basic details of his time here. This will help us make better arrangements for him after he starts school."
Perhaps noticing Harold's tension, she added, "Of course, it will mainly concern his everyday habits and behavior. There's no need to be nervous."
Harold managed a smile. "Please go ahead, madam."
No need to be nervous. Easy for her to say.
Anyone would have found it difficult to remain calm after seeing an elderly woman turn a chair into a pig, then turn it back without batting an eye.
Perhaps if his attitude had been a little worse at the time, he would have ended up just like that chair.
The scientific worldview he had spent decades building was on the verge of collapse.