Maurise's History of Magic grade left much to be desired, but he still comfortably secured the top rank in his year for the final exams. After all, with the exception of Professor Binns's dreadful subject, his marks were virtually perfect across the board.
Hermione, naturally, found this entirely unacceptable.
Even as they stood on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station, she was still rambling on, dissecting the exam contents with him.
"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron pleaded, massaging his ringing ears. "We all know you're outraged about the rankings, but we are going home now. Holidays! Relaxation! Just imagine a life completely devoid of homework!"
Harry stood beside him, nodding with profound empathy.
"Oh, fine." Hermione pouted, her gaze dropping to the remarkably tiny suitcase resting in Maurise's hand. "Where on earth is the rest of your luggage, Maurise?"
"I had my owl fly a portion of it back ahead of time," Maurise replied smoothly.
"Your poor owl," Hermione noted with a sympathetic sigh.
Maurise simply smiled, opting not to correct her. In truth, his entire collection of worldly possessions was neatly tucked into that single, diminutive box. Just a few days prior, he had finally cracked the Undetectable Extension Charm and promptly applied it to his trunk. While his current skill level could not exactly replicate the size of a mansion, expanding the interior to the dimensions of a Hogwarts dormitory was more than enough to swallow his belongings.
More importantly, the magic ensured the trunk remained as light as a feather. Feeling the effortless weight in his hand, he genuinely regretted not researching this particular spell much earlier.
After bidding his friends farewell, Maurise strolled out of the station alone. He wandered down the muggle streets for ten minutes or so before ducking into a secluded, empty alleyway. He drew his wand, thrust it into the air, and summoned the delightfully chaotic Knight Bus.
Now that he was well-acquainted with this mode of magical transport, he saw no reason to bother Harold for a pickup. The man had his own life to lead, after all.
Handing over eleven Sickles, Maurise endured the bone-rattling journey right up to the doorstep of the Leaky Cauldron. Barring any unforeseen disasters, this pub would serve as his home base for the entire summer.
Upon entering Diagon Alley, Maurise did not linger. He wove briskly through the bustling crowds and slipped down a familiar, gloomy side street, simultaneously conjuring a pale, bone-white mask to conceal his features.
Knockturn Alley remained exactly as he remembered it. The sunlight seemed to actively avoid the cobblestones here, leaving the thoroughfare drenched in perpetual twilight even in the middle of the afternoon.
Humming a cheerful tune that completely contradicted his surroundings, Maurise arrived at Frick's shop and pushed the heavy door open.
"Frick, are you around... oh, Madame Caroline. A pleasure to see you."
Seated elegantly in a high-backed chair behind the counter was Madame Caroline. She was idly toying with a slender smoking pipe encrusted with dark purple gemstones.
Do skeletons even smoke?
Maurise let the bone mask dissolve from his face, blinking twice as he tried to wrap his mind around the mechanics of a lungless creature enjoying a pipe.
"It has been a while, little one," Madame Caroline greeted, offering a subtle nod as his face was revealed.
Maurise immediately put on his best salesman charm. "Are you still satisfied with the skeleton dog I sold you recently?"
Madame Caroline might not have been human, but she was undoubtedly wealthy. Maurise was more than happy to build rapport with a deep-pocketed client. He was, frankly, desperately short on funds at the moment.
"It is absolutely marvelous," Madame Caroline replied, her hollow voice laced with distinct delight. "It made me the absolute star of my last tea party. My sisters were positively itching in their bones with jealousy."
"I am thrilled to hear that, Madame," Maurise said, flashing a bright, genuine smile. His mind was already racing, calculating if he could pitch a few more undead creatures to her at an aggressively marked-up premium.
Right on cue, the door to the back lounge swung open. Frick stepped out, carefully cradling a crystal vial that plumed with an eerie, neon-green vapor.
"Madame Caroline, your potion is perfectly brewed and ready."
"Excellent. Leave it right there." Madame Caroline did not even bother to turn her skull, merely tapping her bony phalanges against the wooden counter.
Frick set the vial down and finally noticed the newcomer. He bounded over, his face splitting into a manic grin, and pulled Maurise into a rib-crushing hug. "You made it, Maurise! What brings you to my humble shop today?"
Maurise blinked, momentarily stunned by the overly aggressive affection. "Did you accidentally drink one of your own potions?"
Frick released him, his expression bordering on feverish excitement as he leaned in and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen to me, Maurise. I didn't write to you because I wanted it to be a surprise. We had a customer come in last week who ordered twelve skeleton dogs. Twelve of them! I even managed to negotiate the price up. Three thousand, five hundred shiny gold Galleons!"
Maurise nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. No wonder Frick was practically vibrating. Who wouldn't be ecstatic over that kind of profit? Moreover, Frick had managed to artificially inflate the price by five hundred Galleons. The man was a shameless, brilliant profiteer.
"Who is the buyer?" Maurise asked.
Frick waved his hand dismissively. "Who cares? He mumbled something about being a bestselling author."
A bestselling author?
Maurise immediately recalled the copy of Wanderings with Werewolves he had been forced to purchase last term. What was that ridiculously flamboyant author's name again?
"What are you two gossiping about?" Madame Caroline interrupted. She had somehow applied the glowing green sludge from the vial directly onto her skull, making her look like a radioactive science experiment.
Frick spun around instantly, plastering a remarkably sycophantic smile onto his face. "Nothing of importance, Madame! Ah, how are the effects of the potion? Everything to your liking?"
He hovered nearby, closely inspecting the fluorescent green mask now coating her facial bones.
"Oh, it is simply divine," Madame Caroline sighed, sounding thoroughly relaxed.
Curiosity got the better of Maurise. "What exactly is that potion supposed to do?"
Seeing that his wealthy client was in high spirits, Frick puffed out his chest and explained with clear pride. "It is a specialized maintenance treatment. It grants the bones a beautiful, lustrous polish while providing structural reinforcement and a deep magical infusion."
"It is highly effective," Madame Caroline agreed, leaning back into her chair. "Though it is completely useless for a human wizard. Unless, of course, you are willing to have your bones removed first."
"I can absolutely help with that!" Frick volunteered eagerly, his eyes lighting up. "I guarantee I can take them out and put them back together flawlessly. My technique is strictly professional. You won't feel a thing!"
"I think I will pass," Maurise said deadpan.
He clicked his tongue softly. Why did he get the distinct, terrifying impression that Frick was not joking in the slightest? Was this just the standard vibe of dark wizards? It was certainly hardcore.
"Oh my," Madame Caroline suddenly exclaimed, peering out the grimy window. "Look at the time. I really must be going. My carriage should be waiting."
She gathered her things and glided out of the shop in a hurry.
Frick watched her silhouette vanish into the murky alleyway before turning back to Maurise, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. "Wonderful. Now, Maurise, we can properly discuss the logistics of this skeleton dog order."
"As long as you have enough raw materials," Maurise replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I can handle the magic. But you need to set me up with a room." He nudged his shrunken trunk with his foot. "I am technically homeless right now, so I need a place to sleep."
"Not a problem at all," Frick agreed without missing a beat. "I happen to have an empty basement right here. It is relatively clean. Madame Caroline just occasionally stays down there for a few nights."
"..."
Maurise tilted his head, staring at the shopkeeper.
Perhaps staying at the Leaky Cauldron was the smarter, less haunted choice. Living in a basement occasionally occupied by a sentient skeleton was undeniably creepy.
But in the end, Maurise accepted the offer. Free rent was free rent, after all.
He had a strong premonition that the coming weeks were going to be exhausting, and some of his more... experimental magical projects would be highly inconvenient to perform in a crowded pub like the Leaky Cauldron.
Now that he had successfully harvested the residual magic from the Sorcerer's Stone, it was finally time to begin the second evolution rituals for his undead companions, Tin and Cinder.