With the magical advancement rituals for his familiars, Tin and Cinder, finally complete, Maurise found himself with an unexpected surplus of free time. After spending days sequestered in his damp, gloomy basement researching obscure magic, he decided it was high time to venture upstairs and get a breath of relatively fresh air.
Stepping into the main storefront, he spotted Frick engrossed in conversation with a man who looked entirely out of place in a shop that dealt in dark and unusual artifacts. The stranger was draped in dazzlingly bright, forget-me-not blue robes. His golden hair was styled to absolute perfection, and his blindingly white teeth flashed in a brilliant, meticulously practiced smile.
Behind this peacock of a wizard stood two tall, gaunt figures, shrouded from head to toe in dark cloaks.
As Maurise approached, he acutely felt two piercing gazes lock onto him for a brief second before casually drifting away.
Bodyguards, Maurise assessed instantly. And highly professional ones at that.
"Ah, perfect timing," Frick announced, grabbing Maurise by the shoulder and hauling him forward the moment he noticed him. "Mr. Lockhart, allow me to introduce you. This is Black. He is the brilliant mind behind the skeletal hounds you ordered."
Maurise instantly grasped the situation. So, this was the colossal sucker... wait, no, the esteemed client who had commissioned twelve animated skeletal dogs. But what on earth did Gilderoy Lockhart need with a pack of undead hounds?
Frick leaned in close, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "The bloke paid the deposit, but he looks like he is getting cold feet. Say something convincing. Quickly." He gave Maurise a subtle, encouraging shove toward the famous author.
Catching on immediately, Maurise stepped forward and extended a welcoming hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lockhart."
He had easily recognized the man. Gilderoy Lockhart was a bestselling author, and Maurise had recently seen his oversized, winking portrait grinning off the cover of a book in Flourish and Blotts.
Lockhart stared down at Maurise's youthful face. A flicker of surprise and genuine doubt crossed his eyes. "Oh, Mr. Black. I must admit, I did not expect the craftsman to be quite so young."
Maurise plastered on a perfectly starstruck smile, cranking up his volume to ensure he sounded like an overly enthusiastic fan. "And I never expected my esteemed client to be the Gilderoy Lockhart! I am a massive fan of your work, sir!"
"My absolute favorite is Wanderings with Werewolves," Maurise continued smoothly. "I even remember exactly what you wrote about your ideal birthday gift. You said you wished for harmony between all magical and non-magical peoples!"
Like absolute magic, the doubt in Lockhart's eyes vanished, replaced instantly by an expression of profound, gluttonous satisfaction. He let out a ringing laugh and clapped Maurise heartily on the shoulder.
"Wanderings with Werewolves! A triumph of mine, to be sure. Ah, discovering a reader with such exquisite taste is simply marvelous!"
Hook, line, and sinker, Maurise thought triumphantly.
He kept his face locked in an expression of awestruck reverence and asked, "So, Mr. Lockhart... are you truly the one adopting my skeletal hounds?"
Lockhart gave a modest, yet deeply theatrical nod, his brilliant smile unwavering. "Indeed, my dear boy. It is I. However, before I finalize the purchase, I simply must know the origins of these fascinating little creatures."
He turned toward the far wall. All twelve skeletal dogs were sitting in a neat row like very good boys, staring back at the golden-haired wizard with hollow, unblinking eye sockets.
"They are ancient family heirlooms," Maurise lied without skipping a beat. "They are a rather unique existence."
"A unique existence?" Lockhart echoed, his interest visibly piqued.
"Absolutely," Maurise said with deadpan sincerity. "As you can see, they are incredibly rare and hold distinct historical and research value. I guarantee you will not find another pack of skeletal hounds quite like them anywhere in the wizarding world."
"Splendid," Lockhart declared loudly. "I will take them all."
"Furthermore, these hounds are uniquely adapted to... wait, what did you just say?" Maurise blinked, completely derailed.
He had an entire arsenal of sales pitches prepared to exaggerate the value of the bones. Lockhart's immediate and effortless surrender caught him completely off guard.
"I said I will take them." Lockhart tilted his chin up regally. He produced an elegant, velvet coin purse and unceremoniously dumped a glittering mountain of golden Galleons onto the shop counter. He did not look the least bit pained by the massive expense. "Here is the remaining balance. Feel free to count it."
His tone was breezily casual, as if he had just bought a morning copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Oh, there is absolutely no need for that, Mr. Lockhart!" Frick beamed brightly, sweeping the entire pile of Galleons into his cash drawer with practiced, lightning-fast speed.
Maurise watched the exchange with a slight twitch of his mouth. He was intensely jealous. He wanted that kind of financial magic.
---
Lockhart departed shortly after, taking his imposing entourage and his new pack of bony pets with him. Maurise turned to Frick with a soft sigh.
"Rich people certainly have bizarre hobbies."
If Maurise possessed that much gold, he would never waste it on a pile of moving bones. Wait a second. He suddenly remembered his own impulsive purchase of the Hound's Skeleton the previous year. He wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.
Frick merely shrugged. "There is always someone willing to pay top Sickle for rarities. Perhaps we should raise the price of these hounds. They are far more popular than I anticipated."
A brown owl fluttered in through the open shop window, dropping a folded parchment directly onto the counter in front of Frick. The shopkeeper scanned it quickly and immediately turned to rummage through his ingredient shelves.
"What are you looking for?" Maurise asked.
Frick did not pause his searching. "Madam Caroline just placed an order for a batch of Bone Maintenance Potion."
"Could you brew an extra batch for me?" Maurise asked, his interest suddenly piqued. "I will pay for it, of course."
"Naturally. That will be twenty Galleons. Thank you for your patronage."
Daylight robbery, Maurise grimaced. He handed over the gold and carried the heavy vial of potion back down to his basement.
He obviously did not need the potion for his own joints. It was time to detail his ride. With a sweeping flourish of his wand, the massive, imposing figure of his Skeletal Unicorn materialized in the center of the room.
"Hold perfectly still," Maurise muttered to the beast. "This stuff is outrageously expensive."
Humming a cheerful tune, Maurise meticulously rubbed the thick potion into the unicorn's skeletal frame. As the magical liquid seeped in, the bones began to emit a warm, pearlescent glow. Maurise ran a hand along its skeletal neck. The texture was fantastic, completely devoid of its previous dry, brittle feel.
The results were outstanding. The Skeletal Unicorn seemed to enjoy the spa treatment just as much. It stamped a heavy hoof lightly against the stone floor and let out a soft, echoing whinny of approval.
---
Once the maintenance was complete, Maurise settled back onto his bed and began his daily meditation. To maximize his magical perception and core strength, he rigidly maintained a habit of meditating for two to three hours every single day.
"Meow."
A soft sound from the corner of the room broke his concentration. Maurise cracked an eye open. "Hmm?"
To his absolute bewilderment, his cat, Tin, was taking graceful, leisurely steps through the air. And to make matters even stranger, the feline was completely upside down, walking casually on an invisible ceiling.
What in the name of Merlin was happening?
Maurise scrambled off the bed to get a closer look. The sudden movement broke the cat's concentration. Tin tumbled out of the air and hit the wooden floorboards with a pathetic little yelp.
"How did you do that?" Maurise asked in sheer amazement. Had his cat awakened some sort of anti-gravity ability alongside its other magical talents?
Tin scrambled upright, shook its furry head, and offered a confused mewl. The cat's expression clearly conveyed that it had no idea. It had simply tried to pounce on Cinder, who was hovering near the ceiling, and somehow just kept walking upward.
"Can you try doing it again?" Maurise pressed.
Tin looked at the ceiling, then looked at Maurise, and shook its head firmly. It could not replicate the magic.