For the next several days, whenever Maurise opened the diary, Tom never failed to express deep, fabricated concern regarding his "bizarre illness."
"Mark, how are you feeling today? Has your condition improved at all?"
"Mark, I have been thoroughly reviewing my memories. I believe I might know of a cure for your affliction, but I require far more details regarding your symptoms..."
"My dear friend, I am terribly worried about you. Perhaps we should delve into your family's magical history to identify the root cause? Oh, forgive me, I forgot you were an orphan... Well, let us approach this from a different angle then..."
To all of these thinly veiled interrogations, Maurise simply replied at his own leisurely pace, telling Tom not to worry about it.
Tom seemingly bought the pathetic lie hook, line, and sinker. This only proved how desperately the diary craved his blood. The realization made Maurise both highly vigilant and intensely curious. What exactly was Tom planning to do with his blood? Was it merely to restore his lost magical energy?
Maurise highly doubted it was that simple.
He also knew his flimsy excuse wouldn't hold up to scrutiny forever. Therefore, he consciously began restricting his interactions with Tom. He only opened the diary when he had a highly complex, graduate-level academic question that required answering. The moment Tom provided the solution, Maurise immediately snapped the book shut, completely denying the entity any opportunity for idle manipulation.
Maurise firmly held all the cards. No matter how terrifying the Dark Lord was in reality, right now, he was nothing more than a talking notebook.
***
Before he knew it, March had arrived.
The biting winter chill gradually began to thaw. It had been four full months since the last petrification incident at Hogwarts. Throughout those four months, not a single student had been attacked. The suffocating cloud of panic that had hung over the castle was finally beginning to dissipate. Students rarely whispered about the Chamber of Secrets anymore. It felt as though the terror was entirely a thing of the past.
Under Professor Sprout's expert care, the Mandrakes in the greenhouses were thriving and rapidly approaching maturity.
Mandrakes were genuinely fascinating creatures. Much like humans, they went through very distinct developmental phases: infancy, adolescence, maturity... and then they were violently chopped up and boiled into a Restorative Draught. They lacked an elderly phase.
What a truly tragic existence.
***
It was Wednesday. Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Lockhart was, as usual, forcing a group of thoroughly embarrassed students to act out dramatic scenes from his supposedly autobiographical novels. Today's performance was an excerpt from 'Break with a Banshee'. Simply put, the entire book was a convoluted, highly dramatized tale of love and betrayal between Lockhart himself and a wailing Banshee.
Based on his own extensive reading experience, Maurise accurately deduced that the published story had been heavily censored and heavily modified. It was the only logical way such a scandalous tale had passed the publisher's review board. He genuinely wondered which unfortunate, highly competent wizard Lockhart had stolen that particular story from.
Lately, Lockhart had been remarkably well-behaved. He had entirely abandoned disastrous stunts like the Dueling Club. He was simply showing up, wasting the class time with ridiculous theatricals, and occasionally bragging about his past "glories."
He had also proudly demonstrated his new bone-whip wand to the class, thoroughly astonishing the students.
All things considered, Lockhart was currently managing to survive at Hogwarts. Although he had lost a significant portion of his fan base, he was barely maintaining his core demographic. As long as he survived until the end of the term, he could go back to cheerfully scamming the general public.
"Class dismissed!"
The moment Lockhart gave the order, the miserable boy forced to play the Banshee practically sprinted off the stage. The students flooded out of the classroom like prisoners granted an early release.
Maurise drifted along with the crowd, heading toward the Great Hall for lunch.
As he reached a landing on the grand staircase, he noticed a small group of Slytherins huddled around Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was holding court, speaking with immense theatrical flair.
Draco kept his voice relatively low, but Maurise possessed excellent hearing. The blonde boy spoke with his usual arrogant, aristocratic drawl.
"...and that is exactly why Dumbledore is going to be officially suspended very soon. My father firmly believes he is an entirely incompetent Headmaster. Perhaps when a new Headmaster takes over, they will finally allow the Chamber of Secrets to serve its true purpose and purge this school of all the mudbloods."
'Dumbledore is being suspended?'
Maurise shook his head dismissively. It had been four months since the last attack. Wasn't it a bit too late for the school governors to suddenly hold Dumbledore accountable?
Furthermore, the entire premise was utterly absurd. That was Albus Dumbledore. The single most powerful and universally respected wizard of the modern age. Who in their right mind would actually dare to suspend him?
Maurise simply refused to believe it.
***
Noon.
Maurise had just finished his lunch and was strolling down the corridor outside the Great Hall when he ran straight into Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
The trio looked incredibly grim as they marched toward him.
"Hagrid was just taken to Azkaban by the Ministry of Magic," Harry said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "They actually believe he is the one behind all the attacks at the school... It is completely insane."
"Hagrid?"
Maurise raised an eyebrow. That was genuinely ridiculous. Hagrid and the Heir of Slytherin? Those two concepts did not belong in the same universe, let alone the same sentence.
"And there is something even worse," Hermione added, her voice tight with panic. "I overheard Professor McGonagall speaking with the other staff. Professor Dumbledore is officially no longer our Headmaster. All twelve school governors signed an official order for his immediate suspension."
Maurise frowned. "Well, that is genuinely terrible news."
'So Malfoy was actually telling the truth?' That was a massive surprise.
Hermione nodded frantically. "I also heard Professor McGonagall say that the Malfoy family orchestrated the entire thing. They apparently used blackmail and intimidation to force the other governors to sign the order."
"Which Malfoy?"
"The older one," Hermione clarified, taking a shaky breath. "Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy."
Maurise stroked his chin thoughtfully. He firmly believed that if Dumbledore truly did not want to leave, no piece of paper signed by cowards could physically force him out of the castle.
"We strongly suspect the Heir only stopped attacking students because they were terrified of Dumbledore," Harry stated, his expression grave. "Now that Dumbledore is gone, the attacks will undoubtedly resume immediately. The Muggle-born students are in extreme danger."
Hermione's face visibly paled at those words. She was the textbook definition of a Muggle-born student.
Listening to Harry's deduction, Maurise chose not to argue. From Harry's limited perspective, the logic was entirely sound. What Harry didn't know was that the true culprit behind the attacks was currently locked securely inside Maurise's desk drawer.
Unless the black notebook suddenly sprouted legs and scurried down to the Chamber of Secrets, there would be no more Basilisk attacks.
Maurise pretended to mull it over for a moment. "So, what exactly is your grand plan now?"
"We have to find the real culprit and prove Hagrid's innocence," Harry replied instantly.
"I honestly don't think you need to do anything," Maurise shook his head slowly. "Just wait for Professor Dumbledore to return. He will undoubtedly have a plan to sort this mess out."
Harry's voice rose slightly in frustration. "So we are just supposed to sit around and do absolutely nothing? Hermione is in terrible danger right now!"
"Calm down," Maurise said smoothly, meeting Harry's frantic gaze. "Even if you desperately want to play the hero, you don't have a single solid lead, do you?"
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Maurise was entirely correct. They had absolutely no clues. He was letting his panic cloud his judgment.
Ron, who had been unusually silent, finally spoke up. "The only thing we can realistically do right now is stay vigilant and make sure Hermione is never alone."
Maurise nodded approvingly. "A very wise strategy."
Looking at the younger Ravenclaw, Harry suddenly felt that Maurise was vastly more mature than he was.