Chapter 32: Since You're Already Here, Let's Eat Together

The Great Hall was as bustling as ever at midday. Students at the four long tables gathered in small groups, chatting about their morning classes, summer experiences, and all sorts of trivial gossip.

At the Slytherin table, Marcus Flint tore off a piece of bread with a frown, stuffing it into his mouth with impatience. His mind, however, remained anchored to the words Morris had spoken in class: "Power is not merely magic; true power lies in the mastery of rules and the understanding of choices." These words clung to his thoughts like a spell, impossible to shake off.

"Marcus!" Montague, sitting across from him, slammed his hand on the table, snapping him back to reality. Montague was his Quidditch teammate and one of the instigators who had goaded him into causing trouble the night before. Looking at him with eager anticipation, Montague asked, "So, you went to that guy Morris’s class this morning—how was it? Did you give him a hard time?"

Marcus frowned slightly and set his bread down, feeling a flicker of irritation. It was true that he had attended the class with the intention of causing trouble, but once he arrived, he found he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Yes, causing trouble required a certain threshold. For instance, to interject, you first had to understand what the teacher was talking about.

Morris’s lecture content was completely beyond his grasp. The profound discussions on power, rules, and choices left him feeling bewildered, yet he vaguely sensed a ring of truth to them—even though he opposed the man’s theories and couldn’t even identify where that "truth" lay. Even as he tried to mask his confusion with disdain, he could not ignore the heavy, oppressive weight pressing down on his heart.

"Of course I gave him a hard time," Marcus said, raising his head and trying to sound nonchalant. "He was spouting all that cryptic nonsense, so I interrupted him directly and asked him what 'power' was, making him lose face in front of everyone."

Montague’s eyes lit up, and he chuckled softly. "Haha, well done! That guy should be taken down a peg or two after coming out of Azkaban. I heard he used to be in Ravenclaw—you know how those nerds love to act all profound."

"Yeah, acting profound," Marcus echoed, though his tone was unintentionally perfunctory. He looked down and took a bite of bread, but his mind couldn't help but circle back to Morris’s words: "The essence of power is choice—it depends on how you understand the rules and how you apply them."

Damn it. What exactly did that mean? Could someone tell him?

Lambert, sitting nearby, leaned in, his face full of doubt. "Are you serious? You really stumped him?"

Marcus glared at him, replying impatiently, "Of course I’m serious, what else?"

"Then I’ll have to try it myself sometime," Montague said with a laugh, patting Marcus on the shoulder. "You’ve got guts, Captain."

Marcus swallowed his bread and muttered, "Suit yourself." He didn't want to continue the conversation; his mood was inexplicably sour. He knew perfectly well that he hadn't actually caused any trouble, nor had he made Morris "lose face." On the contrary, the more he listened, the more difficult he found Morris’s words to be. Yet, he couldn't admit his confusion or his burgeoning interest to his peers; that would make him appear weak in the eyes of the Slytherin circle. Thus, he could only maintain his facade of indifference.

As Marcus kept his head down, continuing his meal, his peripheral vision caught sight of Morris at the staff table. Morris looked incredibly lonely. People around him kept their distance, yet he seemed not to care at all, sipping his soup in a leisurely manner with that same inscrutable smile still resting on his face.

"What on earth is that guy thinking..." Marcus cursed to himself, yet he remained unable to fully break free from those lingering thoughts.

***

"He must be thinking about today's class," Ron guessed, his brow furrowed as he watched Morris eating all by himself. "I heard from Percy that all morning, aside from the first session which had seven or eight people, the second class had no one at all."

"No one at all?" Harry paused with his fork mid-air, looking up at Morris at the staff table. The professors beside him were either whispering among themselves or focusing on their plates, yet not a single one initiated a conversation with him.

"That's so miserable," Hermione said softly, her voice tinged with sympathy. "He must have known this would happen."

"Why do you say that?" Ron asked, his mouth half-full of bread.

"Think about it," Hermione glanced at Ron, lowering her voice. "He came from Azkaban. Even if he was innocent, that experience is enough for most people to keep their distance, and besides—" She paused, glancing at the staff table. "He’s teaching Wizarding Sociology, a subject many haven't even heard of. The more conservative types probably won't understand him at all."

Harry nodded, his gaze softening with pity. He recalled his brief interactions with Professor Morris over the past two days and the things the man had said to him. Though the words were brief, they were unexpectedly warm, even carrying a faint sense of familiarity—an indefinable feeling that brought him a strange sense of peace. He always felt that Professor Morris was the same type of person as he was. But where did that feeling come from? What kind of person, and what kind of past, could have shaped Professor Morris into who he was today?

"But he doesn't seem to care," Harry muttered. "He’s always like that, as if he’s long since gotten used to it."

Hermione followed his gaze and sighed gently. "Perhaps he really doesn't care, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel lonely. After all, no one wants to be treated as an outcast forever."

"But why did he come back?" Ron frowned. "If I were him, after going through all that, I wouldn't come back to a place like this and let people point fingers at me."

"Maybe—"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence because she saw Harry stand up. He glanced at Morris at the staff table, then looked down at his own plate, as if he had made up his mind.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ron whispered, full of confusion.

"I’m going to go eat with him," Harry said, his eyes fixed on Morris. "He looks very lonely. Even if he is used to it, it doesn't mean he should be left alone."

For Harry, the morning had only just begun, and he had already felt the weight of countless gazes. People flocked to see him, lining up outside the classroom and standing on tiptoes just to catch a glimpse of the "Boy Who Lived." The expectations and adoration were everywhere, suffocating him. Now, seeing Morris sitting alone at the staff table, as if he were in another world, Harry felt a strange sense of kinship; it was as if he were seeing himself, once isolated by the Dursleys.

Since he was going to be watched no matter where he went, why not spend time with Professor Morris?

"What?" Ron nearly jumped. "Harry, are you sure? He just came from Azkaban—"

"He’s not a bad person," Harry interrupted. "You all heard what Dumbledore said. He trusts Professor Morris, and so do I."

***

Hermione looked at Harry, seemingly still hesitant, but when her eyes landed on the *History of Magic* textbook beside her, she sighed and stood up as well. "You're right. No one should have to eat alone. Let’s go."

"Hermione!" Ron hissed, trying to stop her. "You too? Have you both gone mad?"

Neither answered, heading straight for the staff table with their plates in hand. Ron watched them walk one after the other toward the teachers, looking as conflicted as if he’d been hit by a jinx. He looked at his own plate, then at their retreating backs, and after a long moment of hesitation, he reluctantly stood up, grumbling, "God, why did I make friends like this on the first day of school?"

At the staff table, Morris was sipping his soup with slow, measured movements. When the three of them approached, he seemed to notice something, slowly lifting his head to rest his gaze upon them.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Morris smiled faintly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company for lunch today?"

Harry felt a bit awkward, but tried to appear natural. "Professor, we just thought... it might be a bit boring for you to eat alone. So we came to keep you company."

Hermione nodded, offering a polite smile. "After all, it’s much more pleasant to eat with friends, isn't it?"

Ron, standing behind them, squeezed out a stiff smile. "Yeah, even though this spot is a bit... intimidating, we’re here anyway."

Morris paused, his gaze shifting between the three of them, seemingly surprised by their actions, but soon a subtle, faint smile appeared on his face. He gestured for them to sit. "Very well, since you’re already here, let’s eat together."

This action caused a stir in the hall below. Suddenly, the students were whispering and pointing.

After they sat down, the atmosphere became slightly awkward. Ron stared at his plate, while Hermione tried to find a topic. "Professor, I heard you were a Ravenclaw student. When did you start researching Wizarding Sociology?"

Morris smiled and set down his spoon. "A long time ago, likely when I was still a student here at Hogwarts. I had a slight interest in the structure of wizarding society even then, though at the time, I didn't know it would become my path."

"And how did you decide to pursue it?" Hermione was clearly interested in the topic.

Morris paused, his gaze dimming slightly, before returning to a calm expression. "Often, choices are not the result of a plan, but the result of necessity. However, once a choice is made, one should do their best to see it through."

His words left all three of them deep in thought (though Ron was mostly thinking about whether to have another slice of bacon). Harry couldn't help but ask, "Professor, the things you’ve been through... were they very difficult?"

Morris looked up at Harry and said calmly, "Everyone has their own set of difficulties, Mr. Potter. Whether it is difficult or not is not the point; the point is how you face it."

Lunch passed quietly, and the conversation among them gradually became more relaxed. Ron eventually let his guard down and even told a few jokes about his twin brothers' pranks, which made Hermione laugh despite herself.

As they rose to leave, Morris nodded. "Thank you for your company. I think you’ve made today’s lunch a little more flavorful than usual."

As the three left, Morris’s gaze followed their retreating figures for a long time.

Perhaps... this was the reason Dumbledore had insisted he come to Hogwarts to teach.