Chapter 8: Harry Wishes to Attend Eton College

"Hello, Mr. Potter. Just call me Professor Morris."

Harry stood before the stranger, feeling quite at a loss. He didn't know this man at all, so why was he being so... so familiar?

"Hello..." Harry said, feeling rather reserved.

"I'm not doing well at all, especially with weather like this," Morris remarked, grumbling. Usually, such complaints about the weather were a quick way to bridge the gap between two Englishmen, but the "rule" failed when faced with Harry. Seeing the boy's blank, unknowing expression and his lack of intention to continue the conversation, Morris had to change his tone. "I mean, do you know why I'm here to see you?"

Harry’s expression grew even more bewildered. He shook his head vigorously, even though the motion made him look a bit like a bobblehead.

"I'm here to take you to school."

"School?"

"That’s right, Mr. Potter, school," Morris explained patiently. "In this world, everyone needs to attend school. While the British Empire doesn't have a nine-year compulsory education system, it’s always good to read more. You can hate school, but you cannot avoid it—at least, you must let others know that you have been educated, so you won't face discrimination when you step into society later."

"What I mean is, hating school is your right, but enrolling students to ensure their survival is theirs."

"So, are you the teacher from Stonewall High coming to pick me up?" Harry asked naively.

(PS: Stonewall High, a five-year secondary school with a curriculum similar to a vocational school.)

"No, as I mentioned just now, I am a professor at Hogwarts."

"Then why are you looking for me?"

"To take you to school, Mr. Potter. I believe I mentioned that already."

"So you are the teacher from Stonewall High coming to pick me up?" Harry pushed up his glasses, which were on the verge of falling apart, and asked again with great seriousness.

Everything seemed to have returned to the starting point. But Morris did not feel annoyed; on the contrary, he thoroughly enjoyed the conversation with Harry, even considering some practical matters for the boy.

"No, if you must attend a secondary school in the Muggle world, then I suggest you go to Eton College."

"I could have my friend Jim Hacker—one of the Cabinet Ministers—write you a recommendation letter. Even though he only attended the London School of Economics (LSE), he certainly wouldn't mind writing one for a clever child like you, allowing you to enter Eton and then, just like me, naturally progress to Oxford University to contribute to society."

"It has produced twenty British Prime Ministers and cultivated figures like the poet Shelley and the economist Keynes. I believe a clever child like you would certainly be able to stand out at Eton."

"Me? A clever child?" Harry clearly took note of Morris’s "special" choice of words twice.

"Yes, you are a clever child," Morris nodded, answering with considerable certainty. Whether in the future or the past, Harry was more than enough to be called clever.

Upon hearing Morris's words, the Dursley family nearby widened their eyes. Petunia’s focus was on the "recommendation letter," Dudley’s was on "Eton College," and Vernon’s was on "Cabinet Minister."

The restless Dudley wanted to say something, but Vernon blocked his mouth first—as a father, he knew all too well what Dudley was about to say.

"Is it possible?"

"I never lie."

Seeming to feel that his skepticism had offended the man, Harry flushed and explained, "I mean, aren't you a professor at that... Hogwarts? How could you..."

"Mr. Potter, it is Hogwarts," Morris corrected him. He slowly crouched down to look Harry in the eye. "What this world lacks is not a savior, but a group of people who dare to pursue their ideals. If you want to go to Eton, I naturally respect your choice. However, the prerequisite is... you must first read this letter."

With that, he pulled a letter from his pocket and placed it before Harry.

Harry stared blankly at the letter. The envelope was thick and refined, with a crest on the wax seal. Inside the crest was a large "H" surrounded by a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle.

Written in neat, green ink were the words:

*Mr. Harry Potter*
*The Rock on the Island*
*The Shack*

His name and address were clearly visible, the handwriting elegant and distinct, as if written just for him.

Harry blinked, carefully reaching out to take the envelope. "What is this?" he asked in confusion.

"Open it and see." Morris smiled slightly and stood up, regaining his elegant and composed demeanor. He tucked his hands into his suit pockets and glanced sideways toward the door, not sure what he was looking at.

Harry’s fingers trembled. He hesitated for a moment, then tore open the seal and pulled out the letter. On the heavy parchment, the emerald green ink jumped off the page:

*HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY*
*Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore*

*Dear Mr. Potter,*

*We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizard