After bidding farewell to Draco, Morris walked all the way to the restaurant.
It was getting late, and all four long tables in the college were empty, with only a few students still eating.
Morris picked out a rather appealing sandwich from the Ravenclaw table, took a bite, and immediately frowned.
It smells like soap; no wonder no one's touched it.
He disdainfully tossed the sandwich back onto the plate, then turned and strolled over to Gryffindor.
Harry was huddled together with the Weasley Twins, whispering to each other, and the atmosphere didn't seem too relaxed.
Morris sat down next to George and casually asked, "What are you two talking about?"
Harry looked up and sighed. " About the Quidditch Match."
"This doesn't look good."
"It's more than bad," Harry said in a low voice, his tone full of annoyance, "It's a disaster. Snape is going to be the referee for the next Quidditch Match."
Fred chimed in, "We're worried Snape will side with Slytherin."
"Your worries are unnecessary," Morris laughed. " Snape would never be fair."
Who was Snape?
In Potions Class, even if a Slytherin student farted, he could find a reason to add a few points.
Morris was certain that Snape would absolutely favor Slytherin's team.
George slumped his head on the table in despair. "What's the point of fighting then? Let's just clean the trophy and send it straight to Slytherin."
Suddenly, Fred's eyes lit up, and he slammed his hand on the table. "I have an idea! How about we find a way to get Snape into the Hospital Wing before the game? Morris, do you want to come with us?"
"Um?"
Morris tilted his head.
Children, your thoughts are dangerous.
He doesn't want to be fired yet, so let's just let it go.
Fred continued, "Do you have any Draught of Living Death? Lend us some. We'll mix it into the water Snape is going to drink before the match."
"I'd be happy to lend it to you," Morris shrugged, "But Snape knows I can brew the Draught of Living Death, and he could easily trace it back to me."
"Furthermore, although the Draught of Living Death doesn't have a strong taste, given Snape's familiarity with Potions, he probably would have noticed something was wrong even before drinking it."
Upon hearing this, Fred clicked his tongue regretfully, "What a pity."
No matter what, they couldn't let Morris be put in danger.
The "Draught of Living Death" project has to be put on hold for now.
Harry looked at Morris, somewhat puzzled, and asked, " Morris, don't you mind Snape being the referee? I remember there was a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match."
"I'm not a member of the team," Morris said. "Besides, since Snape is a done deal, there's no point in me caring."
Upon hearing this, Harry and the Weasley Twins both sighed.
Having finished discussing Quidditch, Morris got down to business. " Fred, George, do you know of any secluded, spacious rooms in this castle?"
A spacious and secluded room?
"Yes," Morris nodded, explaining, "I need a secluded place to conduct some magical experiments."
His Gap Energy Crystal are ready, enough for the advancement rituals of Yanhua and Guantou.
The most urgent task now is to find a place where a magic circle can be set up.
The last time the ceremony was held in the clearing next to the Forbidden Forest, it was so loud that Dumbledore accidentally stumbled upon it.
Obviously, that place can no longer be used.
"What about that empty classroom on the fifth floor?" George stroked his chin. "There's nothing in there. Fred and I hid two huge boxes of Dungbomb there last semester, and nobody found out."
Morris sighed. "So those Dungbomb were yours. Let me remind you, just two nights ago, I saw Filch drag them away with my own eyes."
"!!"
Fred and George's expressions changed simultaneously, and they jumped up from their chairs.
They left the restaurant in a panic, saying, "We need to go to Filch's office to confirm."
Mori shrugged and turned to Harry. "Oh, do you still want that cake?"
Harry absentmindedly pushed the cake in front of him toward Morris.
He's currently preoccupied with figuring out how to deal with Snape being the referee, and has absolutely no appetite.
While eating his cake, Morris comforted him, saying, "Relax, Harry. At least Snape is just a referee, not a player. He can't just throw the Quaffle into the opponent's goal, can he?"
Harry gave a wry smile.
You know what, he actually thought Snape would do that.
Moreover, that wasn't his biggest concern.
It's worth noting that during the previous match, Snape had already cast a spell on his broom, almost causing him to fall from the sky.
Something even more terrifying awaits him in the next match!
After finishing the cake, Morris left the restaurant.
Taking advantage of his free time in the afternoon, he decided to continue trying his luck in the castle to find a suitable place to set up an advancement ritual magic circle.
If all else fails, he will choose a time to sneak into the Forbidden Forest to complete the ceremony.
So Morris began to wander aimlessly through the intricate corridors.
Although I've lived at Hogwarts for a long time, the castle seems to offer endless possibilities for exploration.
He slowly walked down a rarely used corridor, inspecting each room.
Most of the rooms were either filled with discarded items or too small to fit a person, neither of which met his requirements.
Just as he was about to give up and turn into the next corridor, the scene in the last room made him stop in his tracks.
There, a strangely shaped little creature was curled up next to a pile of old mops and buckets, fast asleep.
He was about a meter tall, thin and bony, with wrinkled skin all over his body, and wrapped in a brightly colored tea towel.
It's House-elf.
Morris made a judgment immediately.
Although he knew that many House-elf lived in Hogwarts, this was the first time he had ever seen them in person.
He observed the sleeping House-elf with great interest and called out, "Hey, wake up."
The House-elf trembled, slowly opened its eyes, and looked around blankly.
It let out a short screech when its gaze was fixed on Morris.
"Bad Bobo! Lazy, shameful Bobo! Sleeping during work hours! And the esteemed gentleman saw you! Bobo doesn't deserve to live! Bobo should shove himself down the toilet and flush him away!"
The House-elf Bobo immediately began banging its head against the floor.
Morris paused for two seconds, then decisively turned around and walked away.
Although he had already learned a little about the personality of House-elf from books, he still wanted to say something—
Neuropathy.
The best way to deal with this situation is to ignore it.
However, just as Morris was about to step out of the room, he suddenly felt a resistance.
He turned around and saw that Bobo had knelt down at his feet and was hugging his leg.