In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the Sorting Ceremony was proceeding in an orderly fashion.
"Ravenclaw!"
Accompanied by the Sorting Hat's loud, decisive shout, the final first-year student stumbled eagerly toward the applauding Ravenclaw table, bringing the annual Sorting Ceremony to a smooth conclusion.
Maurise clapped politely along with the rest of his housemates, glancing down at the leather briefcase resting by his boots.
A faint, pulsating sliver of white light was seeping through the tiny cracks of the heavy leather case.
Just moments ago, his newly captured Dementor had begun acting up violently, forcing him to stuff several more raven Patronuses inside the case to suppress it. He had no idea what the current situation was like inside the magical luggage.
Kyle, sitting beside him, noticed the anomaly.
"Maurise," Kyle leaned over, his gaze falling upon the seemingly ordinary briefcase. "Why on earth did you bring your luggage to the welcome feast? Aren't the house-elves supposed to transport that directly to our dormitories?"
"Pay it no mind," Maurise waved a hand, steering the conversation elsewhere. "The Headmaster is about to deliver his opening speech. Pay attention."
Kyle offered a murmur of agreement, shifting his gaze back toward the staff table. It had merely been a passing question anyway.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the leather briefcase violently shake.
'Question mark.'
Now he was curious.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore was cheerfully announcing the staff changes for the upcoming academic term.
The first introduction was Remus Lupin, the exhausted, haggard middle-aged man Maurise had briefly encountered on the train. Exactly as the man had claimed, he was officially taking up the cursed post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
Maurise silently wished the poor man the best of luck.
Additionally, Rubeus Hagrid had been appointed as the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor.
In truth, this development defied Maurise's logical expectations.
Hagrid simply did not appear suited for a structured, formal teaching position. It was primarily an issue of his skewed perception of danger. Maurise possessed a strong premonition that the curriculum would encounter severe, lethal logistical problems soon.
Following the staff announcements, Dumbledore gravely addressed the situation regarding the Dementors. This was naturally the primary concern occupying everyone's mind.
"...The Dementors of Azkaban will be stationed at every entrance to the Hogwarts grounds until the Ministry of Magic apprehends Sirius Black."
His powerful, commanding voice carried clearly to every ear in the Great Hall.
A wave of terrified whispers swept through the student body. The majority of them had already experienced the horrifying, soul-sucking aura of the dark creatures firsthand during the train inspection.
"I must emphasize," Dumbledore spoke again, his tone calm yet severe. "Dementors are inherently dangerous creatures. Very dangerous. Physical attacks and standard offensive spells are ineffective against them. However, as long as you do not attempt to sneak out of the castle grounds, you will not face any issues. They will remain strictly confined to their designated patrol zones."
His sharp blue eyes swept slowly across the Great Hall, finally coming to a deliberate stop in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. He added a specific addendum. "Furthermore, I strongly urge you all not to harbor any unnecessary, reckless curiosity regarding them."
'I wonder exactly who that warning was directed at? It is a mystery.'
Maurise pretended he hadn't heard a word. He casually lowered his head to examine his briefcase. The captured Dementor inside had finally gone silent.
"That is all I have to say on the matter," Dumbledore announced, waving his hands grandly. "Let the feast begin!"
The empty space on the golden platters was instantly filled with a staggering variety of rich food.
The students' attention was diverted by the magnificent spread, and the anxious whispering was replaced by the cheerful clatter of cutlery and excited chatter. While the Dementors were undeniably terrifying, they weren't targeting the student body. There was no immediate need to panic.
---
The welcome feast concluded smoothly.
Upon returning to his dormitory, Maurise locked his door and climbed down into his magically expanded suitcase.
After undergoing several spatial upgrades over the summer, the interior had been transformed into a spacious, secure storage and research facility.
Cowering in the far corner of the room, the captured Dementor was curled into a tight ball. It was surrounded by a vigilant, glowing flock of raven Patronuses, shivering violently under the intense positive energy.
Even standing a distance away, Maurise could distinctly feel the insidious chill radiating from the creature's core.
Sensing his presence, the Dementor raised its hooded head, looking as though it desperately wanted to lunge at him and drain his soul. Unfortunately for the dark creature, with the radiant Patronuses glaring menacingly at it, it did not dare to make a hostile move.
Maurise took a few calculated steps forward and tentatively reached out his hand.
The fraction of a second before his fingertips made contact with the rotting cloak, a freezing, necrotic chill shot up his arm and pierced his brain.
Hiss.
It was a sharp, stimulating sensation.
Maurise retracted his hand. Making prolonged physical contact with the entity was likely to be hazardous to his magical core and mental stability.
This was not conducive to a proper, hands-on dissection and research study.
Was there a reliable, efficient method to neutralize the Dementor's remaining resistance without destroying it? Maurise stared intently at the cowering creature, falling into deep academic thought.
"Xul... Noth... Vras." he murmured, experimentally casting the advanced necromantic curse.
Unfortunately, it proved useless.
The concentrated grey mist sailed straight through the space the Dementor occupied, failing to interact with its physical or spiritual form.
Maurise frowned. He shifted his angle and attempted the curse a second time.
It yielded the exact same, disappointing result.
'Perhaps it is time to consult an expert.'
Maurise swept his robes, summoning his loyal undead familiar into the expanded room.
"Tom, do you possess any knowledge regarding how to render a Dementor unconscious? Or, alternatively, how to permanently terminate one?" he asked.
The red soul-fire in Tom's eye sockets flickered apologetically. "I am sorry, Master. I possess no specialized knowledge regarding the biological or magical structure of these entities."
"Useless," Maurise grumbled under his breath, turning around and climbing out of the suitcase.
He had no other viable options at the moment. It seemed he would have to rely on the raven Patronuses to slowly whittle away the creature's dark energy over time.
Regardless, he was in no rush. He had all the time in the world.
First things first, he needed a good night's sleep to prepare for the start of the term.
---
The following morning, Maurise strolled into the Great Hall. He enjoyed a hearty breakfast of bacon and toast while reviewing his newly distributed third-year class schedule.
Because he had enrolled in every available elective course, his timetable was a chaotic nightmare. At its worst, it required him to attend three different classes at the same time.
Fortunately, he had no intention of attending all of them. He intended to pick and choose whichever lectures caught his academic interest and skip the rest.
Speaking of which, Hermione Granger's schedule was identical to his own. Utilizing a restricted Ministry Time-Turner to physically attend three simultaneous lectures every day sounded like a logistical nightmare.
Just thinking about the physical exhaustion made him feel tired.
His first period of the day was Divination. He had briefly seen the professor for the course at the staff table last night, a witch named Sybill Trelawney. She possessed an eccentric, dramatic aura.
"Ah, Divination," Kyle leaned over, peering at the parchment. "You signed up for that one as well."
Maurise nodded, taking a sip of iced pumpkin juice. "Indeed I did."
Sitting a short distance away, Cho Chang overheard their conversation. She set her fork down and turned toward them to offer some friendly advice.
"The final exam for that class is easy to pass," Cho noted. "The only drawback is that Professor Trelawney has a nasty habit of predicting that several students in her class will die a tragic death in the near future."
"That sounds more like a malicious curse than a legitimate prophecy," Maurise noted dryly, looking unbothered. "Have any of her fatal predictions come true?"
"Never," Cho shook her head. "If her predictions were even marginally accurate, the Hogwarts student body would have been wiped out years ago."
'Hmm. Unreliable, then.'
Maurise folded his schedule and dedicated his full attention to finishing his breakfast.
The Divination classroom was located at the peak of the North Tower. Navigating the labyrinth of spiraling staircases required a significant investment of time and physical stamina.
Maurise pushed open the trapdoor and stepped into the classroom, surveying his surroundings.
The interior decor was styled to project an aura of mysticism.
The circular walls were lined with shelves crammed with dusty Divination tools, chipped teacups, and cloudy crystal balls. A bizarre assortment of celestial globes was suspended from the ceiling by thick ropes, some draped in dark velvet cloths. A massive wool rug covered the floorboards, woven with chaotic, esoteric symbols.
Around twenty small, circular tables were scattered haphazardly across the center of the room, several of which were already occupied by his classmates.
Maurise selected an empty table near the edge of the room, took a seat on a padded pouf, and waited for the eccentric professor to make her grand appearance.