Chapter 52: Phase Two, Begin

In the evening, the light at the horizon gradually softened as the setting sun cast its final lingering rays across the earth. The sky shifted from golden yellow to a warm orange-red, and as time passed, the colors slowly transitioned into a deep, profound blue.

A gentle breeze swept by, carrying a hint of chill, while the air was filled with the faint scents of damp earth and fresh grass.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of the wind and the distant sounds of students practicing at the Quidditch pitch outside the window.

Morris sat at his desk, his gaze fixed far into the distance outside the window, lost in thought.

Before him on the desk lay the three gifts Nicolas Flamel had given him, arranged in order:

A notebook, a potion, a briefcase.

Indeed, Morris was currently pondering a very serious question:

How should he conduct himself moving forward?

In other words, how ought he to advance his plan?

Morris slowly turned his head to look at the three items on the desk.

The notebook recording Nicolas Flamel’s work was fraught with unknown variables; the potion, though not yet mature, represented an opportunity for change; and the seven briefcases served as a tool to help him build his inner circle.

Each item signified a possibility—a possibility that could increase the success rate of his plan.

Finally, Morris's gaze settled on the object in the middle.

Yes, the potion.

This was the foundation of the "Artificial Wizard Project."

Morris gently picked up the potion vial. The flowing golden light within it sent a flutter through his heart—without a doubt, if this potion were successfully developed and mass-produced, it would be a creation capable of ushering in a revolutionary new era for the wizarding world.

The vast majority of marginalized Squibs would readily offer their loyalty in exchange for a potion that could grant them magical power.

Consequently, using the resource of the potion, these individuals could be controlled, thereby forming a legion of wizards absolutely loyal to him.

Building upon this version of the potion, new formulas could even be developed—medications capable of turning Muggles into wizards, bringing about a profound transformation for the entire world.

However, how could he advance this plan without sacrificing the lives of others?

Morris had no answer.

Throughout the afternoon following his return from Nicolas Flamel’s, he had asked himself this question repeatedly in the depths of his heart:

"Without absolute certainty, should I halt my steps?"

If he chose to use the lives of Squibs for human experimentation as a prerequisite for completing the potion, how would he be any different from those pure-blood families?

For a moment, despite all the books he had read, Morris could not find a clear resolution to this dilemma.

When a notion first takes root in the human mind, one can never truly deceive oneself.

***

That afternoon, Morris had reflected upon many things.

He thought of his parents' deaths, of his experiences over the years, and of the hardships endured by those who cared for him—people who, like his own family, were Squibs.

More accurately, he was a child raised by a community of Squibs.

Faced with such a choice, he bore a heavier burden than ordinary people.

This was not a simple decision, but an irrevocable choice.

Once the bowstring is drawn, there is no turning back.

Some things, once done, can never be undone.

Just as Morris fell deep into thought, a soft knock on the door broke his train of thought.

"Come in," Morris said, raising his head slightly, his voice a bit hoarse.

The door was pushed open gently.

An unexpected visitor walked in.

Miss Granger.

"Professor Morris, I have something to report to you." Hermione walked up to the desk, looked at Professor Morris’s expression, hesitated for a moment, but quickly spoke, "It's about Harry and Malfoy."

Morris frowned slightly, quickly recalling the trajectory of this plotline.

The midnight duel between Harry and Malfoy—

It was also the beginning of their encounter with the three-headed dog.

To confirm what he was thinking, Morris put down his pen, leaned forward slightly, and signaled for Hermione to continue: "Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy? What happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath and said with considerable urgency, "They've arranged a duel for midnight, in the trophy room. Harry—he doesn't plan to back down. Although I tried to advise him against it, his mind is made up now."

To make himself appear astonished, Morris repeated Hermione's words in a low voice.

"A wizard duel? Miss Granger, a wizard duel is not such a simple matter."

Hermione nodded and continued, "I know, Professor. Harry just wants to stand up for himself. Malfoy—he has seized upon Harry's weakness and wants to humiliate him through this duel."

Morris stood up, walked to the window, and remained silent for a moment.

The lingering rays of the setting sun fell upon him, lending him a solemn air.

He thought of the dream, then slowly turned around to look at Hermione.

"I understand," Morris said calmly. "Miss Granger, I can understand your desire to protect him, but you also know that sometimes words are not enough to change someone's mind."

Hermione looked at him uneasily, a sudden sense of tension rising in her chest: "Aren't you going to stop him? If he goes, and something goes wrong—"

***

Morris walked over slowly and gently patted Hermione's shoulder.

"Miss Granger, the duel between Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy is not something I can directly interfere with."

"Mr. Potter must face his own choices. His decision right now is a way of growing up."

"He cannot always rely on others to decide his path."

He paused, his tone becoming more resolute.

"I will take another approach to ensure, as much as possible, that he does not do anything to harm himself in this duel."

Hermione seemed to realize what Morris meant, her eyes widening slightly: "You mean... you intend to go to the scene?"

Morris nodded. "I will not let Mr. Potter face all of this alone. The decision is his, but during this duel, I will provide him with the necessary safeguard."

Hermione took a deep breath, a weight finally lifting from her heart: "That's wonderful. Thank you, Professor."

"Miss Granger," Morris looked at her deeply, "Every decision Mr. Potter makes may have a significant impact on his future. Each of you has your own path to walk. You can offer him support, but ultimately, he must learn to bear the consequences."

Hermione stood up and looked gratefully at Morris: "I will, Professor. Thank you."

After that, the two exchanged a few more words.

Time ticked away, and by the time Hermione turned and left, it was already dark.

Morris stood by the window, gazing at the scenery outside.

Recalling the conversation just now, a sense of clarity seemed to dawn on him, and his gaze gradually grew resolute.

Giving advice to others is easy, but making one's own decisions is difficult, isn't it?

With that, he slowly turned around, walked back to the desk, picked up the quill, and wrote slowly on the piece of parchment at the corner of the desk:

Artificial Wizard Project

Phase One Complete

Formally Initiating... Phase Two

The tip of the pen glided softly across the paper. As the final stroke fell, Morris's mind seemed to achieve a momentary release.

"Phase Two, the true beginning," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the empty room.