Maurise boarded the Hogwarts Express and located an empty compartment, settling comfortably into a window seat.
It didn't take long for the scarlet steam engine to fill with the familiar, chaotic noise of hundreds of chattering students.
With a long, shrill blast from its whistle, the train slowly lurched into motion, beginning the long journey north toward Scotland.
As per their usual arrangement, Maurise found himself sharing a compartment with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan.
"The Ministry dispatched two official cars to escort us to King's Cross this morning," Fred announced the moment he sat down, looking pleased with the VIP treatment. "It was for Harry's protection, of course. To ensure he wasn't ambushed by Sirius Black on his way to the station."
George chimed in, "The perimeter of King's Cross is swarming with plainclothes Aurors right now."
Lee Jordan's eyes widened in realization. "Blimey, that explains why I felt like I was being watched the entire time I was walking through the barrier."
"Oh, please. No one was watching you, Lee," Fred shot him down. "You aren't Harry Potter. You are a nobody. Oh, speaking of which, I heard an amusing rumor regarding your summer holidays. Apparently, you invited a lovely young witch to Diagon Alley for a romantic date, but it ended up—"
Lee Jordan launched himself across the compartment, clapping his hands over Fred's mouth to muffle the rest of the sentence.
Evidently, the date had not ended well.
The group spent the next hour chatting and catching up on their summer activities. When the conversation began to lull, Maurise closed his eyes, slipping into a light meditative state to practice his runic visualization.
Meanwhile, Lee Jordan began rummaging through his trunk.
Clatter.
He dumped something heavy onto the small wooden table between the seats.
It was a set of Wizard's Chess.
The tiny, animated stone figures began marching aggressively around the board, shouting and gesturing at Maurise and the others in a rapid, harsh-sounding language.
"What is this?" Fred leaned forward, looking intrigued.
"A gift from my uncle," Lee Jordan explained with a sigh. "I thought it might help pass the time."
Maurise opened his eyes, observing the chaotic scene on the table without much surprise.
Wizard's Chess sets were notoriously temperamental. The pieces possessed rudimentary sentience and distinct personalities. The more expensive sets were even known to argue with their owners and offer unsolicited tactical advice during matches.
The boys attempted to set up the board, but the pieces resisted, clustering together in a corner and shouting angrily.
"What on earth are they saying?" George asked, bewildered.
Lee Jordan grimaced. "I have no idea. I cannot even identify the dialect..."
"It is German," Maurise stated calmly.
George stared at him in surprise. "You understand German?"
Maurise offered a slight nod.
"Where on earth did you learn that?" George asked, his curiosity piqued. "Mastering a foreign language is a difficult undertaking."
"I spent time studying it independently when I was younger," Maurise replied smoothly.
In truth, fluency in German was a skill he had retained from his previous life. While he hadn't spoken it in years, he had recently studied several advanced magical grimoires originating from Germany, keeping his comprehension sharp.
"So, what are these tiny stone figures shouting about?" George steered the conversation back to the angry chess pieces.
"They are hurling colorful insults at you," Maurise translated with a shrug. "Furthermore, they are discussing their grand ambitions to overthrow human society, intending to force wizards onto massive stone boards to experience the humiliation of being ruthlessly manipulated."
"Truly a magnificent, lofty ideal," Maurise added dryly.
"I will wager five Galleons," Fred picked up an angry black knight, holding it in front of his eye for closer inspection, "that they will never achieve that ambition."
The tiny knight kicked its stone legs furiously in Fred's grip, shouting another rapid-fire string of harsh German.
"&&#@%!"
Fred couldn't comprehend a single syllable, but the aggressive, guttural tone made it clear the piece was not offering its blessings.
Suddenly, the knight swung its tiny stone sword. A miniature spark of magical fire erupted from the tip of the blade, landing squarely on Lee Jordan's left cuff.
A faint smell of singed fabric filled the compartment.
"He is ordering you to kneel before him," Maurise translated helpfully.
Lee Jordan let out a heavy sigh. He swept the unruly pieces back into their wooden box and shoved them deep into his trunk.
Attempting to play a match with insubordinate chess pieces was an exercise in frustration.
Maurise, however, found his academic interest piqued. "Would you mind lending me that chess set for a while, Lee? I would like to analyze its core enchantments."
"Take it," Lee Jordan threw the wooden box at Maurise. "I have no intention of ever using it again."
"Thank you," Maurise accepted the box.
He suspected this set was different from the standard models sold in Diagon Alley. The pieces exhibited a remarkably high degree of autonomous intelligence and magical agency. Perhaps they had been enchanted using an obscure, specialized manufacturing technique?
He intended to dissect their runic matrices at his earliest convenience.
As the Hogwarts Express chugged northward, the sky outside the window darkened without warning. Heavy, freezing rain began lashing against the glass pane.
"Dreadful weather for September," Lee Jordan muttered, shivering slightly.
The magical lamps mounted on the compartment ceiling flickered to life. Maurise retrieved a thick textbook from his bag and began to read.
It was the official third-year Divination textbook: Unfogging the Future.
In all honesty, Divination was the elective subject Maurise was most curious about. He had attempted several basic Divination exercises on his own time, but it was apparent he lacked the specific, innate "Inner Eye" required for the discipline.
Suddenly, the train shuddered. It wasn't the natural swaying of the carriages; it felt as though something massive had clamped onto the tracks. A cacophony of metallic banging echoed from the corridor outside.
The ceiling lamps flickered erratically before settling into a dim, weak glow.
The atmosphere inside the train shifted, becoming oppressive and unnatural.
"This is sinister," Fred lowered his voice to a whisper, dropping his usual joking demeanor.
Maurise closed his textbook and returned it to his bag.
He felt an unnatural, biting chill seeping into the compartment from beneath the door crack. The cold felt physical, almost viscous, freezing the air around them.
'Fascinating.'
Maurise stood up.
"Where are you going?" George asked, his voice tight with anxiety.
"There is a unique entity lingering outside our door," Maurise stated, his tone as relaxed as if he were discussing the weather. "I am going to let it inside. Please brace yourselves; its presence might be uncomfortable to endure."
Before the three Gryffindors could process the warning, Maurise slid the compartment door open.
The instant the door opened, a paralyzing, bone-deep wave of cold flooded the small room.
Looming in the doorway was a towering, ghastly figure shrouded in a tattered, rotting black cloak. The entity slowly turned its head, peering into the compartment. Beneath the ragged hood, there were no discernible facial features—merely a gaping hole that seemed to suck the light from the air.
Fred, George, and Lee Jordan froze, their breath catching painfully in their throats as a wave of suffocating despair washed over them.
With a single glance, Maurise identified the creature standing before him.
A Dementor.
A classified, dangerous dark creature that fed on human happiness and positive memories. They served as the brutal, soulless wardens of Azkaban Prison.
Fortunately, Maurise had mastered the advanced counter-spell required to repel such entities ages ago.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Maurise flicked his wand. A burst of blinding, warm silver light erupted from the tip, coalescing into the majestic form of a silver raven.
A powerful wave of comforting warmth banished the suffocating chill from the compartment. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan snapped out of their paralyzing despair, staring in awe at the corporeal Patronus.
The silver raven let out a silent, piercing cry and dove at the Dementor.
The dark creature recoiled, a rattling, unnatural gasp escaping its faceless hood. It floated backward, vanishing from the doorway.
Maurise bent down, picking up his leather briefcase. He flashed a brilliant, excited smile at the three stunned Gryffindors. "I am going to step out for a moment. I shall return shortly."
He stepped out into the corridor, sliding the compartment door shut behind him.
The compartment remained silent for two long seconds.
"Did Maurise... did he just walk out there?" Fred asked, his voice hoarse and dry.
"He did," George confirmed, swallowing hard.
"What on earth was that thing?! It was terrifying!" Lee Jordan collapsed into his seat, drained of energy.
Meanwhile, out in the dim, freezing corridor, Maurise was engaged in an intense standoff with the fleeing Dementor.
'Ah. Such a fascinating, unique specimen. How could I let it escape?'
Standing this close, Maurise could perceive the creature's true, horrifying form beneath its tattered cloak. It looked like a decomposed corpse that had been left to rot in stagnant water for months.
It hovered silently in the center of the narrow corridor. Despite its hunched, unnatural posture, its head nearly scraped against the low ceiling.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Maurise recited the incantation, his voice devoid of fear.
Several more bright silver ravens materialized from his wand, forming a tight, inescapable perimeter around the trapped Dementor.