What does a normal person do when they find a blank notebook lying in a dark, empty corridor in the middle of the night?
Generally, there are only two logical options: pick it up or leave it alone.
Lockhart chose the former. Without a single second of hesitation, he scooped the diary off the cold stone floor, shoved it roughly into his velvet robes, and turned to continue on his way.
But Maurise was certainly not going to let Tom Riddle dictate the rules of the game.
He vastly preferred keeping the dangerous, sentient artifact entirely under his own control rather than letting it fall into the hands of an incompetent fraud.
Therefore, just as Lockhart turned his back, Maurise's figure materialized soundlessly from the shadows.
He gave his wand a sharp, vicious flick. A beam of dull red light shot out, striking Lockhart squarely in the back of the head.
"Ah—!"
Lockhart's eyes rolled back into his skull. He pitched forward, face-planting violently onto the solid stone floor, out cold before he even hit the ground. The black diary tumbled out of his robes, skidding a few feet away.
Maurise strolled over casually, nudging Lockhart with the toe of his boot to check his condition.
He was sleeping soundly.
Only then did Maurise turn his attention to the notebook lying quietly on the floor.
The diary remained perfectly still, but Maurise's magical senses could feel the intense, turbulent energy currently writhing within it.
He swished his wand. The notebook slowly levitated off the ground, hovering a few feet away. He absolutely refused to touch it with his bare hands.
A second later, the pages of the diary frantically fluttered open on their own. The spectral, translucent figure of Tom Riddle suddenly materialized in the dim corridor.
His handsome face was entirely devoid of expression. He simply stared at Maurise with a pair of cold, dead, and incredibly dangerous eyes.
Maurise met his furious glare and offered a polite, incredibly infuriating smile.
A silent standoff ensued.
Tom was the first to break the tension. "Very well. You win, Mark. Tell me, what exactly is it that you want?"
"Me?" Maurise shrugged innocently. "I don't want anything. The real question is, Tom, why were you trying to sneak away? I distinctly recall you telling me you were nothing more than a harmless memory."
Tom's spectral form rippled slightly, resembling the dark surface of the Great Lake disturbed by a sudden gust of wind. Simultaneously, the magical aura radiating from him grew incredibly unstable.
"I genuinely did not want it to come to this," Tom sighed heavily.
Suddenly, he raised his semi-transparent right hand, aiming it squarely at Maurise with his fingers spread wide.
"Imperio!"
The Imperius Curse!
No wand, no physical body, and yet he was still capable of casting Unforgivable Curses?
'Truly impressive,' Maurise thought.
Maurise's body violently jolted. His eyes immediately glazed over, losing focus. The hand gripping his wand dropped limply to his side. He stood perfectly still, looking exactly like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, completely devoid of autonomous will.
'Did it work?'
Tom's spectral body flickered dangerously. Casting such complex, Dark Magic in this form clearly took an immense toll on his remaining energy reserves.
He shook his head slightly, a cold smirk touching his lips. He had genuinely overestimated the boy. He actually thought the student possessed some hidden, extraordinary capability. In the end, the boy couldn't even resist a wandless Imperius Curse.
Ultimately, he was still just a child.
"Pick up the diary," Tom commanded coldly.
Maurise's body jerked stiffly. He took a slow, mechanical step forward, shuffling toward the hovering notebook.
Seeing this, Tom's smile widened.
He had expended a significant amount of energy, but the result was absolutely perfect. By controlling Maurise, he not only secured the safe return of his vessel, but he also gained a highly intelligent, incredibly competent servant for the long term.
Ah, and he truly had to thank the boy for all the pure magical energy he had so generously provided over the past few weeks. It was that very magic that allowed him to cast spells directly from his spectral form. Compared to the pitiful, erratic trickle of magic the little red-haired girl had offered him previously, this boy's magic was like a raging river.
However, right at that moment, an unexpected variable occurred.
Maurise stopped right in front of the diary. But instead of bending down to pick it up, he slowly tilted his head up.
His eyes were incredibly clear, sharp, and utterly devoid of the glazed-over look caused by the Imperius Curse.
Tom's triumphant smile instantly froze.
"You—" His voice cracked slightly, losing its usual smooth composure.
"That was a very impressive curse," Maurise chuckled lightly. "It is a pity it doesn't work on me."
In reality, Tom's spell had successfully connected. The instant the curse hit him, Maurise distinctly felt a powerful, foreign magical force violently invading his mentalscape.
But naturally, it failed entirely.
Even Dumbledore's masterful Legilimency couldn't breach his formidable mental shields. The fractured soul of a teenage Voldemort stood absolutely no chance. Maurise simply flexed his mental will and instantly crushed the invading magic into dust.
As for why he had pretended to be mind-controlled? It was just a spur-of-the-moment theatrical performance.
'Just messing with you.'
Hearing Maurise's taunt, Tom's expression shifted drastically, twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury and desperation.
That Imperius Curse had been his absolute last resort. Furthermore, after this blatant betrayal, any possibility of peaceful coexistence was permanently destroyed.
He had lost.
"State your demands. What exactly do you require of me?" Tom rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves scraping against stone.
Maurise crossed his arms, tapping his chin as if deeply deep in thought.
"Take me to the Chamber of Secrets," he finally said. "And I will spare your life."
"And if I refuse?"
'Refuse?'
Maurise laughed out loud. "Hmm... Well, I am not exactly lacking in blank parchment. Perhaps I will just rip you to shreds. Or burn you to ashes. Oh, and I am fully aware that ordinary methods cannot destroy an artifact like you. Please do not worry about that."
His tone was incredibly light and cheerful, but to Tom, it sounded exactly like a demonic declaration.
Did he have any other viable option?
"...Very well," Tom finally spat out, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.
Leading the boy to the Chamber presented a sliver of hope. Perhaps he could use the Basilisk to turn the tables. Flat-out refusing was a guaranteed death sentence. Weighing his options, Tom could only choose the path that offered a marginal chance of survival.
"Lead the way then," Maurise gestured politely.
***
Thus, a highly bizarre procession began moving through the silent corridors of Hogwarts in the dead of night.
A second-year Ravenclaw student strolled leisurely behind a hovering, spectral notebook, accompanied by a small, shadowy black cat walking silently by his boots.
As they approached the corridor leading toward the library, the cat suddenly stopped.
Meow.
Tin let out a low, warning hiss.
Maurise glanced over his shoulder. Peering into the darkness behind him, he could faintly make out the shadowy silhouette of a human figure.
Who was that?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the figure seemingly realized they had been spotted. Without a second of hesitation, the person turned and bolted down the corridor.
Wandering alone in the dead of night, only to turn and flee the moment they were seen?
"How incredibly annoying."
"Incarcerous!"
Maurise muttered the incantation, whipping his wand out and firing the binding spell without a single moment of hesitation.
Thick ropes exploded from the tip of his wand, rocketing toward the fleeing figure and instantly wrapping around their torso.
"Argh!"
The person let out a panicked yelp, completely losing their balance and crashing heavily onto the stone floor.
Maurise felt that the voice sounded rather familiar.
He quickly closed the distance, raising his wand to cast a faint Lumos over the struggling student.
The boy's pale, platinum-blonde hair practically glowed in the wandlight.
It was Draco Malfoy.
"Malfoy?" Maurise raised a single eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
What on earth was this arrogant brat doing sneaking around the castle at this hour?
"Let me go, Black!" Draco hissed furiously, thrashing against the tight ropes. "How dare you curse me!"
"Keep your voice down," Maurise warned coldly. "It is the middle of the night. Do you actively want to get caught out of bed by Filch?"
Draco choked on his words, instinctively snapping his mouth shut.