Professor McGonagall led Morris through several heavy wooden doors, their hinges groaning softly as they closed behind them. The corridor gradually emptied of noise until they arrived at a quiet, sparsely furnished chamber just outside the Great Hall. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting long, wavering shadows.
"We will wait here," Professor McGonagall said, stopping near the center of the room. Her tone was calm but firm. "The other new students will arrive shortly."
"Yes, Professor," Morris replied.
Left momentarily to his own devices, Morris glanced around with interest. Two suits of armor stood against the wall nearby, tall and imposing, each gripping a halberd. As he watched, their shoulders shifted slightly, metal plates rubbing together with a faint clicking sound.
So they really are enchanted, he thought.
"Professor," Morris asked casually, turning back toward McGonagall, "we're going to have the Sorting Ceremony in a moment, right?"
"Yes," she replied concisely, not even looking at him.
"Then how do we choose which house suits us best?"
"You will find out soon enough."
"What about Gryffindor?" Morris continued, undeterred. "I heard it's a good house."
"Gryffindor is indeed very good," Professor McGonagall said, a trace of imperceptible pride creeping into her voice as she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. "However, every house has its own unique merits."
"Really?" Morris noticed the small movement and suddenly thought of something else. "By the way… you're wearing glasses. Do wizards get nearsighted too?"
For the first time since meeting him, Professor McGonagall sighed deeply.
"Mr. Black," she said, finally turning her sharp gaze on him, "you ask far too many questions."
"Oh. Sorry."
Morris immediately shut his mouth and obediently turned his attention back to the animated armor, deciding it was safer to admire magical artifacts than to continue testing her patience.
Not long after, a wave of noisy footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Voices overlapped, excited and nervous, accompanied by the shuffle of many feet.
The door in front of them was knocked three times—heavy, deliberate knocks.
Almost immediately, the large figure Morris had seen earlier stepped inside.
Hagrid entered first, ducking his head slightly to clear the doorway. Behind him trailed a long line of children, their expressions a mixture of awe, excitement, and anxiety.
"They're all here, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced, his booming voice reverberating around the room.
Professor McGonagall gave him a slight nod.
At that moment, Hagrid's gaze fell on Morris, who stood beside her rather conspicuously. His bushy eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"Eh? Who's that?" Hagrid asked. "Professor McGonagall, is he a new student?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall replied sharply. "And I believe I must remind you, Hagrid, that as the person responsible for escorting the new students, you somehow failed to notice that one was missing from the line."
Hagrid's bearded face immediately flushed a deep red.
"I—uh—I didn't notice," he muttered vaguely, clearly mortified.
Being reprimanded by the Deputy Headmistress in front of so many students was obviously not a pleasant experience.
Morris, the true culprit, silently offered Hagrid an apology in his heart.
"Return to the line, Mr. Black," Professor McGonagall said, giving Morris a small nudge.
"Yes, Professor."
Morris walked quietly to the very back of the line. As he did, he could feel numerous curious gazes settling on him. Whispers rippled softly among the students.
Among them, he noticed a girl with bushy brown hair—Hermione Granger—staring at him with unmistakable suspicion.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, instantly restoring order.
"First," she said, "welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"
She gave a concise introduction to the school and the Sorting Ceremony, explaining its significance and rules. After instructing the students to wait quietly, she turned and pushed open the doors leading into the Great Hall.
The moment she disappeared, the students erupted into excited chatter.
Hermione pushed her way through the crowd and stopped directly in front of Morris, fixing him with a serious look.
"Where did you go?" she asked. "I didn't see you in the line just now."
Morris hadn't expected someone to confront him so directly. "Ah… maybe it was too dark outside," he said lightly. "I was at the very back."
"Then how were you faster than everyone else?" Hermione pressed. "We all walked together."
Troublesome, Morris thought.
He shrugged. "I got lost in the courtyard and came in through a side door."
The explanation was riddled with holes. Hermione clearly noticed, and her mouth opened as if she intended to keep questioning him.
Before she could, Professor McGonagall returned.
"Form a single line," she commanded. "Follow me."
The chatter died instantly. The students hurriedly arranged themselves, standing straight and silent.
Morris and Hermione naturally ended up at the back once again.
The line moved forward, passing through massive oak doors and into the Hogwarts Great Hall.
Morris took in the sight with calm curiosity.
"Hm. Not bad," he muttered.
The hall resembled an enormous cathedral, its ceiling enchanted to display a vast night sky scattered with countless stars. Hundreds of candles floated in midair, bathing the room in warm golden light. Four long tables stretched across the floor, each set with glittering tableware, while the professors' table sat prominently at the front.
At its center sat an elderly man with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles.
Dumbledore, Morris assumed.
Despite the grandeur, Morris didn't feel particularly overwhelmed. In his previous life, he had witnessed far more shocking scenes—testaments to the power of technology.
Still, something here truly caught his attention.
Silvery-gray, translucent figures drifted between the tables, passing through students and benches alike.
Ghosts.
It was the first time Morris had seen actual ghosts moving freely.
As a half-trained necromancer, his focus was instantly drawn to them. His breathing slowed as he studied their forms, their magical composition, their faint emotional residues.
Hermione noticed his intense stare and whispered, "Those are the Hogwarts ghosts. I read about them in Hogwarts: A History. They've been here for centuries."
Morris didn't respond.
"Hey, are you listening to me?" Hermione said, clearly annoyed.
"Oh—sorry. Could you say that again?"
"No!"
Morris blinked, baffled.
Children really are hard to understand, he thought.
Professor McGonagall soon returned, carrying a three-legged stool and a tattered, ancient-looking hat. She placed both at the front of the hall.
Moments later, the hat began to sing a rambling, nonsensical song about the four houses.
"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall said once it finished, "you will come forward, put on the hat, and wait to be sorted."
"Hannah Abbott!"
The Sorting Ceremony officially began.
So that's how it works, Morris thought, rubbing his chin.
If this hat truly reads minds, wouldn't my identity as a transmigrator be exposed?
That would be troublesome.
Morris narrowed his eyes.
If necessary, he could temporarily scramble his thoughts with the Wailing Curse. It wasn't ideal, but it might disrupt any deep mental probing.
"Morris Black."
Whispers spread instantly across the hall—his surname had clearly drawn attention.
Morris walked forward calmly and sat on the stool, placing the Sorting Hat over his head.
"Hmmm…" a voice murmured in his ear. "Relax, child, or you'll interfere with my judgment."
Morris obeyed, emptying his mind completely. Meditation came easily to him.
Ten seconds passed.
"…Are you truly relaxed?" the hat asked again, sounding puzzled. "Strange. I can't see anything at all. Are you an idiot?"
The hat squirmed uneasily.
The Great Hall buzzed with murmurs. This was already the longest sorting so far.
Morris felt relieved.
"Mr. Hat," he replied mentally, "no personal attacks, please. Any house is fine."
"That won't do," the Sorting Hat said sternly. "Hmm… in that case… an obvious choice…"
"Ravenclaw!"
Thunderous applause erupted from the Ravenclaw table.
At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George Weasley—and Lee Jordan—looked visibly disappointed.
Morris stood, removed the hat, and walked calmly toward his new house.
His necromancer career at Hogwarts had officially begun.
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