19 September.
The days at Hogwarts flew by amid a relentless schedule of lessons.
For Morrin, it had been a particularly productive week.
Not only had he firmly established himself in Potions as ‘Snape’s favourite student, and his second most hated,’ but he had also managed to astonish Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration.
That morning, sunlight streamed through the tall classroom windows and spilled across the desks.
“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said sternly.
“Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back.
You have been warned.” Their task for the day was to turn a match into a needle.
For most first-years, it was almost impossibly difficult.
Ron waved his wand so furiously that he nearly set his match alight, yet it stubbornly remained nothing more than a piece of wood.
Hermione Granger, on the other hand, succeeded.
Her match had become a needle, although its point was still slightly blunt.
“Very good, Miss Granger.
Five points to Gryffindor.” Professor McGonagall gave one of her rare smiles.
But when she reached the front row of the Slytherin side, that smile froze into astonishment.
There was no ordinary needle on Morrin White’s desk.
Instead, an exquisitely crafted silver needle lay before him, its surface engraved with intricate patterns.
Even the eye had been shaped into a tiny coiling serpent.
“This…” Professor McGonagall picked it up and examined it closely.
“You haven’t merely altered its shape.
You’ve changed the density of the material and even its surface structure.” “How did you accomplish this, Mr White?” “Microscopic restructuring through alchemy, Professor.” Morrin lowered his jet black wand and answered calmly.
“If we regard the match as an arrangement of carbon, then turning it into metal only requires breaking apart the carbon chains and introducing free metallic elements before restructuring the whole.
Logically, the process works.” Professor McGonagall adjusted her spectacles and stared at him for several long seconds.
“I have no idea what you mean by ‘carbon chains’, but this is unquestionably flawless Transfiguration.
Ten points to Slytherin.” Beside him, Draco stared enviously at Morrin’s needle.
His own match had managed little more than developing a slightly sharper end.
“Stop staring, Draco,” Morrin murmured.
“If you want to learn how to do this, you’ll first need to memorise Fundamentals of Matter.
I’d be happy to tutor you for five Galleons an hour.” ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ If the morning had been an academic victory, lunchtime brought open conflict.
Gryffindor and Slytherin were eating in the Great Hall when an owl arrived carrying a Howler from Neville Longbottom’s grandmother, who was still in hospital herself.
Neville was not there to receive it, but that did not stop the letter from screaming itself hoarse anyway.
At the Slytherin table, Draco laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.
He had just started towards the Gryffindors to mock them when Harry and Ron intercepted him.
“I challenge you to a duel!” Ron shouted, his face scarlet as he stepped in on Harry’s behalf.
“A wizard’s duel!
Midnight tonight, in the trophy room!
What’s wrong?
Scared?” “Who says I’m scared?” Draco sneered.
A sly gleam flashed through his grey blue eyes.
“I’m a Malfoy.
I never back down from a challenge.
Crabbe will be my second.” “I’ll be Harry’s second!” Ron declared, puffing out his chest.
Nearby, Morrin had been sipping his tea with impeccable composure.
At those words, he set his cup down.
In the original story, this was nothing more than one of Draco’s tricks.
He had never intended to show up.
Instead, he would inform Filch and try to get Harry expelled.
Childish.
That was Morrin’s immediate assessment.
Then another thought occurred to him.
The trophy room at midnight…
It was very close to the forbidden third floor corridor.
And that was where Fluffy, the three headed dog, stood guard over the trapdoor.
This was an excellent opportunity.
“Draco.” Morrin spoke suddenly.
His voice was quiet, but Draco’s entire body stiffened.
“W-what is it, Morrin?” “I just heard you accept a challenge to a duel.” Morrin turned his head, his deep black eyes settling on Draco.
“As a gentleman of Slytherin, I assume you wouldn’t do something so cowardly as agreeing to the duel in public, then sneaking off to inform Filch behind Potter’s back?” Draco’s face instantly went pale.
That was exactly what he had been planning to do.
“I—I wouldn’t!” he stammered indignantly.
“Of course I’m going!
I’ll knock Potter’s teeth out!” “Excellent.” Morrin nodded with satisfaction, a meaningful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
“To ensure Slytherin’s honour remains untarnished, I’ll accompany you tonight as an impartial witness.” “Y-you’re coming too?” Draco looked utterly horrified.
With Morrin there, he would not dare run away.
And he certainly would not dare tell Filch.
“Of course.
It’ll also give us a chance to see what the castle is like at night.” Morrin rose and straightened his robes.
“Don’t be late, Draco.
I dislike being kept waiting.” ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Midnight.
The castle was pitch dark.
Morrin wore a black overcoat that allowed him plenty of freedom of movement, his cane held loosely in one hand.
With a thoroughly unwilling Draco and his two cronies trailing behind him, he arrived punctually at the trophy room on the fourth floor.
Several minutes later, Harry and Ron arrived as well.
They were accompanied by Hermione Granger, still in her pyjamas and furiously attempting to stop them, along with Neville, who had only just been discharged from the hospital wing and had found himself locked out of Gryffindor Tower after forgetting the password.
“You actually came?” Ron stared at Draco in astonishment.
Then he noticed Morrin standing in the shadows, and his expression changed immediately.
“White?
You’re duelling too?” “No.
I’m here for the entertainment.” Morrin leaned casually against a trophy case containing the Special Award for Services to the School.
Hermione hissed furiously, “You’re all completely insane!
If Filch catches us, Gryffindor and Slytherin will both lose enough points to last the entire year!
I’m going to tell—” “Shh.” Morrin suddenly raised one finger.
The heightened hearing granted by his [Half Giant Bloodline] caught the faint sound of footsteps in the distance.
“Mrs Norris is coming.” Sure enough, a scrawny, dust coloured cat slipped silently out of the darkness.
Her lamp like eyes fixed upon the group.
She gave a low, rasping hiss.
“Run!” Harry shouted.
The entire group of first-years immediately dissolved into chaos.
Even Draco panicked and bolted.
“This way!” Harry charged towards a doorway partly hidden behind a tapestry.
Morrin followed at an unhurried pace at the rear of the group.
He even had enough presence of mind to tap Mrs Norris lightly on the head with his cane.
The cat, who had been preparing to yowl for Filch, recoiled into the shadows in fright.
━━━━━ 🔍 SCAN ━━━━━ Scanning target: Mrs Norris [Traits detected] 🔵 Blue | Malice Sense ⚪ White | Informant ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Nothing worthwhile.
Morrin shook his head.
The group raced through corridor after corridor and scrambled up flights of stairs until they finally found their escape blocked by a locked wooden door.
“We’re done for!” Ron groaned, desperately shoving at it.
“It’s locked!
Filch is right behind us!” The footsteps grew louder.
Then Filch’s harsh, grating voice drifted up from the floor below.
“They’re somewhere around here, my sweet…
I can smell them…” ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ [📣 Announcement 📣]