While the Patronus Charm was the ultimate counter-measure against Dementors, it was incapable of destroying or killing the foul entities. Its primary function was limited to repelling, weakening, and driving them away.
However, for Maurise's current objective, that was adequate.
Maurise dropped to a crouch, flicked the brass latches of his heavy leather briefcase open, and tossed the magically expanded luggage onto the floorboards.
Following his precise mental commands, the flock of brilliant silver ravens began to swirl around the hissing, rattling Dementor. Working in synchronization like trained sheepdogs, the Patronuses herded the cowering dark creature over the open mouth of the briefcase.
In the next fraction of a second, the towering Dementor elongated and twisted unnaturally. Like a wisp of thick black smoke caught in a powerful vacuum, it was sucked down into the depths of the expanded suitcase.
Simultaneously, Maurise severed the magical connection. The silver ravens dissolved into a fine mist of shimmering light and faded away.
The capture sequence had taken less than five seconds.
"Perfectly executed."
Maurise clapped his hands together in satisfaction, stepped forward, and snapped the briefcase shut, engaging the heavy brass locks.
A live Dementor captured!
He was eager to dissect the foul creature and analyze its underlying magical and biological structure.
Maurise turned around, intending to return to his compartment and resume his reading. However, a sudden movement caught his eye.
Another towering, cloaked Dementor had materialized at the far end of the dim corridor, gliding silently toward him.
Maurise paused, an academic thought crossing his mind.
'Is a single specimen sufficient for a comprehensive research project?'
Standing in the center of the dark corridor, gripping his briefcase, Maurise pondered the logistical question.
'Hmm. Probably not.'
The Ministry of Magic undoubtedly possessed a massive legion of these creatures guarding Azkaban. If one or two happened to lose their way and go missing during a routine train inspection... surely it wouldn't be considered a major statistical anomaly, right?
Maurise raised his wand, taking a slow, deliberate step toward the second Dementor, prepared to repeat his efficient capture technique.
However, before he could utter the first syllable of the incantation—
"Watch out!"
A brilliant flash of silver light erupted from behind Maurise, shooting past his shoulder and slamming into the advancing Dementor. The dark creature shrieked and fled into the shadows.
'Well, there goes my backup specimen,' Maurise sighed inwardly, disappointed.
He turned around to inspect the source of the interruption.
Standing a few feet down the corridor was a middle-aged man, his wand raised defensively in the air. Evidently, he had just cast the Patronus Charm that drove the Dementor away.
"Are you alright, my boy?" the man asked, hurrying forward. His eyes quickly scanned Maurise for signs of physical or psychological trauma. Seeing the boy looking unbothered, he let out a sigh of relief. "Please, return to your compartment and lock the door. It is unsafe to wander the corridors at the moment."
"I am fine," Maurise replied politely. He paused, tilting his head slightly. "May I ask who you are?"
He was certain he had never seen this man before. The stranger possessed a haggard, deeply lined face and a sickly, pallid complexion. He looked exhausted, closely resembling Flick after the shopkeeper had spent a night drinking with Madam Caroline.
"I am Remus Lupin," the man introduced himself. "I am the newly appointed Professor for the upcoming term."
Maurise blinked. "Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"That is correct," Lupin nodded.
"I see." Maurise offered a slow nod, a look of genuine pity flashing across his silver-grey eyes.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts post was universally renowned as a cursed, lethal position. Every professor who occupied the role either died horribly, lost their mind, or was forced into exile.
Anyone willingly accepting the position at this point either possessed a hidden, sinister agenda or was out of their mind.
Maurise wondered where Dumbledore kept finding these unfortunate sacrificial lambs.
'Well, I can only wish him the best of luck.'
Lupin shifted uncomfortably under the boy's intense, peculiar stare.
"You must head back inside," Lupin urged. "Now."
"Right away, Professor Lupin," Maurise turned obediently.
However, he had barely taken two steps before yet another Dementor drifted out from an adjacent carriage, blocking his path.
"Stand back!" Lupin shouted, raising his wand.
But before Lupin could cast his spell, Maurise raised his own wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
Several brilliant silver ravens erupted from the tip of his wand. Under the assault of the powerful Patronuses, the Dementor recoiled and fled the corridor in terror.
Having cleared his path, Maurise glanced back over his shoulder, offering Professor Lupin a cheerful wink. "Have a pleasant evening, Professor."
Lupin stood frozen in the corridor, staring after the boy in jaw-dropping shock.
'A student capable of casting a corporeal Patronus Charm?!'
He hadn't even noticed what year the boy was in.
When Maurise slid the compartment door open and stepped back inside, the three Gryffindors swarmed him, demanding to know what had just attacked them.
"They are called Dementors," Maurise explained, sliding his heavy leather briefcase beneath his seat. "The Ministry of Magic dispatched them to search the train. I presume they are hunting for Sirius Black."
"Dementors?!" Fred repeated, his face pale. "I have heard horrific stories about them from Dad, but I never imagined they were that terrifying up close."
George shuddered, still looking shaken. "Thank Merlin it didn't manage to drain our happiness. Maurise, what was that spell you used to drive it away?"
"The Patronus Charm," Maurise answered. "It is an advanced piece of defensive magic. However, if any of you are interested in learning it, I would be happy to instruct you. As long as you are willing to dedicate the necessary time to practice, mastering the core principles is not an insurmountable task."
The twins exchanged a rapid, enthusiastic look.
"We want to learn it," Fred slung an arm over Maurise's shoulder, grinning widely. "Honestly, mate, how many advanced, classified spells are you hoarding in that brain of yours?"
Maurise offered a mysterious, ambiguous smile.
'How many spells?'
Far too many to count. But there was no need to rush. He would reveal them all in due time.
Lee Jordan suddenly spoke up, his eyes widening in alarm. "Wait a minute. If the Ministry authorized Dementors to board the Hogwarts Express... does that imply they are going to be stationed around the school?"
"That seems like the logical conclusion," Fred agreed grimly.
As if on cue, the dim, flickering ceiling lamps flared back to full brightness.
The terrifying inspection was apparently over.
Several hours later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the pitch-black, freezing Hogsmeade Station.
Maurise grabbed his heavy briefcase and stepped off the train, joining the throng of shivering students huddled on the dark platform.
The rain was falling in thick, icy sheets.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!"
Hagrid's massive lantern bobbed wildly in the heavy downpour. A flock of terrified, drenched first-year students huddled tightly around his massive boots, looking exactly like a group of drowned, miserable ducklings.
Hagrid was shouting something at the top of his lungs, but the roaring wind and rain drowned out most of his words. Maurise only caught snippets like "Black Lake" and "don't panic."
Clearly, the first-years were about to experience the grand, uncomfortable Hogwarts tradition of sailing across the freezing lake in tiny, open wooden boats.
Maurise believed the school ought to invest in basic waterproof awnings or, at the very least, enchant the boats with permanent Impervius Charms. It seemed cruel otherwise.
Suddenly, the heavy leather briefcase clutched in his hand began to vibrate.
"Now, now. Let us remain calm," Maurise muttered under his breath.
"Did you say something?" Fred asked, shivering beside him.
"Nothing of consequence," Maurise replied.
He knelt down, unlatched a single brass clasp, and cracked the briefcase open a fraction of an inch. Slipping the tip of his wand into the dark gap, he whispered, "Expecto Patronum."
A brief flash of silver light illuminated the interior of the case, and the shaking ceased.
Fred didn't press the issue.
The crowd of older students began to trudge down a dark, muddy path leading away from the station.
Soon, they arrived at a large, muddy clearing where a fleet of dilapidated stagecoaches was waiting for them. The skeletal, winged Thestrals hitched to the carriages stood silently in the freezing rain, the icy water sliding off their leathery, dragon-like skin.
Naturally, Maurise could see the Thestrals clearly.
The moment the creatures spotted him approaching, several of them turned their skeletal heads, letting out soft, affectionate clicking noises in greeting.
A particularly small, energetic Thestral foal even broke away from the herd, trotting directly over to Maurise and nudging his hand with its bony snout.
Maurise crouched down, gently scratching the creature behind its leathery ears.
He was still popular among the macabre beasts.
"You can actually see the creatures pulling the carriages, can't you?" George's voice cut through the sound of the rain.
"I can," Maurise nodded, standing back up and following the twins toward an empty carriage. "Are you implying you cannot?"
"Unfortunately, no," George shook his head.
"However—" Fred leaned in, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, "I have actually ridden one of them!"
George let out an exasperated sigh. "And it was a disastrous experience."
Maurise's curiosity was piqued. "Please, elaborate."
George nodded, more than happy to expose his twin's foolishness. "During our Care of Magical Creatures class last year, Professor Kettleburn brought a few of them out for a demonstration. Fred, in his infinite wisdom, decided to vault onto the back of an invisible creature. He was immediately bucked off and launched headfirst into the freezing Black Lake."
"Hey, at least I had the courage to attempt it!" Fred declared proudly.
'Professor Kettleburn?'
Maurise vaguely recalled that the heavily scarred professor had decided to formally retire at the end of the previous term.