Maurise seriously suspected that Quirrell and his skeletal unicorn were destined to be together. By his count, this was the third time his undead steed had sent the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher flying through the air.
Absolutely incredible!
In the previous chamber, Maurise had spent exactly two seconds contemplating how to pass through the wall of purple and black flames. Realizing he had no clever potion tricks up his sleeve, he simply abandoned the idea of a strategic puzzle solution. Instead, he let raw magic take the wheel. Using his Bone-calling, he encased himself in a thick, heavy suit of bone armor and literally just walked right through the fire.
He had to admit, the thermal insulation of solid bone was utterly fantastic. The scorching flames did not cause him a single ounce of discomfort.
Right after stepping through, he took advantage of Quirrell violently strangling Harry, summoned his skeletal unicorn, and launched a perfect sneak attack.
Now, Maurise vaulted off his bony mount and strolled over to Quirrell's crumpled form. The professor was sprawled on the stone floor, his body twisted into a highly unnatural and permanent angle. His eyes were bulging, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. He was completely devoid of life.
Seeing this, Maurise casually nudged the body over with his boot.
Surprisingly, the grotesque face plastered on the back of Quirrell's head still clung to a fragile sliver of life.
Voldemort glared up at Maurise with sheer hatred, his voice sounding like dry leaves scraping together. "Who are you?"
"Take a wild guess," Maurise replied cheerfully.
Since his entire body and face were currently hidden beneath a menacing suit of bone armor, Voldemort could not see a single identifying feature. Maurise had absolutely nothing to worry about. He could be as utterly disrespectful as he wanted.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his voice suddenly shifting into a hypnotic, airy whisper. "Give me the stone inside that boy's pocket... I can give you everything your heart desires."
Maurise felt a strange, sudden wave of magical persuasion wash over him. Ah, the legendary Dark Lord. Still trying to cast mind-altering magic while literally lying flat on his face.
Unfortunately for Voldemort, mental attacks like this were completely useless against Maurise's fortified mind.
With a bright, hidden smile, Maurise lifted his heavy armored boot and stomped down hard, right in the middle of Voldemort's flat, snake-like face.
Squish.
Oh, that felt immensely satisfying.
The Dark Lord had no idea who he was anyway. Maurise figured he was probably the very first person in wizarding history to wipe his shoes on Voldemort's face just for the sheer fun of it. The physical damage of the stomp was negligible, but the emotional disrespect was off the charts.
Voldemort instantly erupted into a fit of blinding rage. "How dare you!"
However, he simply possessed no remaining life force to sustain his broken vessel. That single, humiliating shriek drained the absolute last drop of his stolen energy. Voldemort's face immediately blurred and rapidly disintegrated into ash, leaving behind nothing but a charred, deeply ugly lump on the back of Quirrell's head. The Dark Lord was gone.
Maurise turned his attention back to Harry and crouched down for a quick medical check.
He was breathing. Just unconscious. That was to be expected, of course. How could the wizarding world's chosen savior possibly die in a dusty basement?
Right, Headmaster Dumbledore? Maurise thought with a wry smirk.
Harry's pocket was suspiciously bulky. That had to be the Sorcerer's Stone.
Instead of immediately digging for the loot, Maurise shifted his gaze toward a seemingly empty, dark corner of the room. The magical currents flowing around that specific spot felt incredibly heavy and completely unnatural.
"Good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore," Maurise announced to the empty air. "I can see you standing over there."
The moment the words left his mouth, the air near the wall rippled like water. A tall, imposing figure with a long silver beard slowly faded into view.
Fully revealed, Dumbledore offered a faint, twinkling smile. "Good evening to you too, Maurise. Though, if you do not mind, I much prefer to be called Professor."
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore."
"Tell me," Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes studying the armored boy. "Exactly when did you notice my presence?"
"Just a moment ago," Maurise answered honestly. He waved his hand, allowing his bone armor to dissolve into white mist, revealing his usual Ravenclaw robes. "As you are well aware, I am rather sensitive to magical fluctuations."
Dumbledore nodded gently. He then took a few slow steps toward the skeletal unicorn, observing it with immense curiosity.
The skeletal unicorn took a defensive step backward, the ethereal flames in its hollow eye sockets flaring up brightly.
"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured in awe. "I have never seen a magical creature quite like this one. Or perhaps, it is more accurate to call it a magical construct?"
"It is my friend," Maurise replied calmly. He stepped forward and affectionately patted the cold, bony ridge of the creature's neck.
The skeletal unicorn instantly calmed down, lowering its terrifying skull to affectionately nuzzle against Maurise's palm.
Dumbledore watched this tender interaction with deep interest. "Does it possess a consciousness of its own?"
"Yes," Maurise said, a fleeting trace of regret coloring his voice. "But sadly, it is not truly alive. It has no soul."
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. After a brief pause, he softly remarked, "I imagine the living unicorns of the forest would not be particularly thrilled to see the bones of their kin walking about."
Maurise froze slightly, his guard going up. "Do you object to my magic, Professor?"
Dumbledore shook his head dismissively. "That was not an accusation, my boy. Let us return to the pressing matter at hand. Did you venture all the way down here simply to help Harry?"
His gaze drifted down to the unconscious boy splayed out on the stone floor.
"Oh, yes, mostly. But I also really wanted to see what the legendary Sorcerer's Stone actually looks like while I was in the neighborhood."
Maurise knelt beside Harry. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a soft, plush pillow and slipped it gently under Harry's head. Then, very carefully, he reached into Harry's pocket and pulled out the Stone.
The blood-red jewel rested heavily in his palm, emitting a warm, radiant glow even in the gloomy shadows of the dungeon.
Maurise inspected it thoroughly.
The absolute pinnacle of alchemy. The power to turn any metal into pure gold and grant eternal life.
It was a real shame he knew next to nothing about advanced alchemy. To his eyes, this legendary artifact was simply a very pretty rock practically bursting with condensed magical energy. It did not look particularly mystical to him.
"Please hand the Stone to me, Maurise," Dumbledore requested. His tone was incredibly gentle, yet it carried an authority that brooked no argument. "I am going to destroy it."
"Destroy it?" Maurise paused, tilting his head in confusion as he handed the crimson gem over.
"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed, taking the Stone and holding it up to the light. "The power contained within this little rock is far beyond your imagination. It only invites greed and disaster. I recently had a long chat with its creator, Nicolas. We both agreed that destroying it is the only correct path forward."
Destroying the Sorcerer's Stone?
Maurise had truly not expected Dumbledore to make such a drastic choice. In his mind, smashing the Stone was the magical equivalent of burning down an ancient library filled with irreplaceable books. It was a concept he could barely wrap his head around.
"You truly are a remarkable man, Professor," Maurise sighed in genuine admiration.
"I do not view myself that way," Dumbledore replied softly.
"Well, in that case, may I stick around to watch the exact moment you destroy it?" Maurise asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.
Dumbledore blinked in surprise. He clearly had not anticipated that request. He looked down at the glowing red stone in his hand, then back up at the young Ravenclaw. "Why would you wish to see that?"
"Oh, no grand reason," Maurise said, looking completely relaxed. "I simply think witnessing the final end of such a monumental magical artifact would be a profoundly moving experience."
Dumbledore stared at him intently, as if trying to read the very depths of his soul.
"It is just a fascinating concept," Maurise continued, shrugging his shoulders. "Whether it is the act of creation or the act of destruction. The absolute beginning or the absolute end."
"The birth of the Sorcerer's Stone must have been an incredibly thrilling and magical process. Therefore, its end, if it is truly to be its final end, should be equally spectacular. Is that not something worth witnessing with one's own eyes?"
A broad, genuine smile broke across Dumbledore's weary face.
"Then let us watch it together," the Headmaster agreed. His voice suddenly sounded much lighter, as if a heavy burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. "Let us share in this historic moment."
Maurise was momentarily taken aback. "Right now? Right here in the dungeon?"
"Why not?" Dumbledore chuckled, slowly raising the glowing Sorcerer's Stone high into the air.