Leaving the bustling hospital wing behind, Maurise followed Dumbledore through the stone corridors, ascending several flights of stairs until they finally halted before a familiar, massive stone gargoyle.
"Cockroach Cluster," Dumbledore stated clearly.
The stone gargoyle slowly leaped aside, revealing the spiraling, moving staircase hidden behind it.
The two wizards stepped onto the stone escalator in silence, ascending into the Headmaster's circular office.
The office was warm and comfortable. The fireplace was blazing merrily, casting a golden glow across the room. Fawkes the Phoenix was perched prominently on his golden stand, entirely focused on meticulously preening his brilliant scarlet feathers.
Maurise strolled over and reached out a hand, intending to gently pat the magnificent bird's head.
Before his fingers even made contact, Fawkes lunged forward and pecked his knuckles aggressively.
"Incredibly petty," Maurise grumbled under his breath, rubbing his hand.
He moved over and sank comfortably into one of the plush chintz armchairs positioned near the desk, adopting a relaxed posture, looking entirely as if he were lounging in his own private parlor.
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with amused warmth.
"Fawkes's temperament is invariably quite foul on rainy days."
"Is that so?" Maurise cast a skeptical glance at the glaring phoenix. "I was under the impression he simply harbored a deep, personal grudge against me."
"Well, your assessment is certainly not entirely inaccurate," Dumbledore noted smoothly, taking a seat behind his massive desk. "He does indeed harbor a grudge. Primarily because you violently plucked several feathers from his tail during your first year."
"..."
Maurise felt a profound sense of exasperation.
'This bird seriously knows how to hold a grudge.'
Speaking of which, those coveted phoenix tail feathers were currently still resting securely within his expanded briefcase.
He hadn't yet discovered a suitable, practical application for them.
'Use them as wand cores? I know absolutely nothing about wandcraft.'
'Incorporate them into a magical artifact? I haven't designed anything that requires phoenix feathers.'
'I suppose I'll just keep storing them. It's not as though phoenix feathers expire.'
Dumbledore offered a soft chuckle. He steepled his long fingers together, resting his elbows on the polished desk, his expression slowly shifting into one of profound seriousness.
"Very well. Let us return to our important discussion."
Maurise sat up slightly straighter, adopting a more attentive posture.
"Regarding Gellert Grindelwald," Dumbledore began slowly, his piercing blue eyes locking directly onto Maurise. "Exactly how much do you know about him?"
Maurise pondered the question for a moment, deciding to answer with absolute candor.
"Very little, truthfully. My knowledge is strictly limited to the sanitized, superficial descriptions available in standard historical texts."
He began ticking the facts off on his fingers.
"Gellert Grindelwald. The First Dark Lord. Operated several decades prior to Voldemort's rise to power."
"He amassed a massive, fanatical following across Europe before ultimately being defeated by you in an incredibly famous duel in 1945. Following his defeat, he was imprisoned within Nurmengard Castle. According to historical records, he is currently still alive."
"And that is essentially the sum of my knowledge. The historical documentation regarding his personal life, magical theories, and precise political ideologies is pitifully scarce. I couldn't even manage to unearth any interesting, scandalous gossip."
Dumbledore's expression remained perfectly neutral.
"Are you entirely certain you do not personally know Gellert Grindelwald?"
"Of course not," Maurise shrugged casually. "He is securely locked away in an impenetrable, classified fortress. How on earth could I possibly have formed a personal connection with him?"
Dumbledore pressed further, his tone meticulous.
"And you have absolutely never communicated with him through any magical or mundane medium whatsoever?"
Maurise paused, staring directly back at the Headmaster.
"Before I witnessed that specific vision in the crystal ball, I possessed zero idea what the man looked like in his old age."
In all honesty, Maurise felt Dumbledore was being entirely too paranoid.
'Repeatedly questioning whether I've contacted a heavily guarded prisoner is completely illogical.'
'If I actually knew how to reach him, I wouldn't be sitting here asking questions.'
"That is a profound relief," Dumbledore leaned back heavily into his high-backed chair, letting out a slow, measured sigh. "When dealing with an individual like Grindelwald, one can never truly relax their vigilance. Even after the passage of several decades."
"Was Grindelwald genuinely that powerful of a wizard?" Maurise asked, his academic curiosity burning.
Dumbledore fell silent for a long moment.
"He was incredibly powerful," Dumbledore finally answered, his voice laced with complex emotion. "However, his true, terrifying strength did not solely reside in his raw magical output. His true power lay in his unparalleled, dangerous ability to manipulate and seduce the hearts and minds of others."
'Manipulate hearts and minds?'
'That's an awfully abstract description.'
"Regardless, he remains an incredibly dangerous individual," Dumbledore stated firmly, his tone carrying a distinct, unmistakable warning.
Maurise, however, was entirely unfazed.
He leaned back in his chair, a calculating look crossing his eyes.
"In all honesty, I am incredibly eager to track Grindelwald down and have a long conversation with him."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot upward in genuine alarm.
"Why on earth would you desire that?"
"There are several specific, deeply complex questions I wish to ask him," Maurise paused, carefully selecting his words. "Pertaining exclusively to obscure magical research."
'Most importantly, I need answers about the Void.'
'His photograph should never have existed in that place unless he knew something about it.'
'I'm convinced he holds information no one else does.'
Dumbledore, however, did not press for specific details regarding the research.
"I strongly advise you to abandon that notion immediately, Maurise," Dumbledore said, his tone laced with a heavy dose of resignation. "Nurmengard is an impenetrable fortress. Absolutely no one is permitted to enter."
"Right. Very well," Maurise offered an agreeable verbal response.
'So Dumbledore has no intention of revealing the prison's location.'
His determination remained entirely unshaken.
'I'll simply obtain it through other channels.'
He had spent enough time in Knockturn Alley to establish connections with reliable black-market information brokers. Given sufficient payment, they could uncover almost any secret.
Mundungus Fletcher had already proven his usefulness by acquiring the restricted naval blueprints needed for the Ship in a Bottle.
Maurise maintained a perfectly calm, innocent expression while simultaneously planning a classified infiltration in the back of his mind.
Dumbledore stared at the boy, a complex, deeply cautious look in his blue eyes.
"What exactly are you currently thinking about, Maurise?"
"I was merely contemplating what I should eat for dinner," Maurise answered smoothly without missing a beat. "Furthermore, I was calculating exactly what bribes I could utilize to improve Fawkes's foul temper."
It was a blatant, calculated lie.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples, feeling a massive headache rapidly forming.
He was intimately familiar with Maurise Black's true nature. The boy was pragmatic, incredibly stubborn, and deeply ambitious.
'He has absolutely no intention of giving up.'
'How am I supposed to stop him?'
If it had been an ordinary criminal, Dumbledore might even have considered escorting Maurise personally under strict supervision to satisfy his curiosity.
But this was Grindelwald.
'The risk is simply too great.'
'I cannot allow Grindelwald even the slightest opportunity to influence him.'
---
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Maurise felt his curiosity regarding Gellert Grindelwald burning brighter than ever.
'Judging by Dumbledore's reaction, Grindelwald is far more interesting than Voldemort ever was.'
Lost in his thoughts, Maurise navigated the corridors, eventually finding himself standing outside the hospital wing once again.
Harry Potter had already regained consciousness. He was currently sitting upright in a hospital bed, tightly gripping a steaming mug of hot chocolate, looking incredibly pale. Hermione and Ron were sitting faithfully on either side of the bed.
"What is the current medical assessment?" Maurise asked as he strolled casually into the room.
Hermione looked up, letting out a massive sigh of relief.
"Madam Pomfrey just finished her diagnostic scans. She confirmed Harry is physically sound. He should be cleared for release by the weekend."
Harry himself looked incredibly exhausted, but he managed a weak, grateful smile.
"Oliver Wood mentioned you single-handedly drove away every single Dementor?" Harry asked softly.
"Indeed," Maurise replied casually. "I happen to possess a high degree of proficiency in the specific counter-spell required to repel them."
"The Patronus Charm," Harry said. "Hermione informed me of the name. Is that correct?"
"That is accurate," Maurise nodded.
Harry hesitated, looking incredibly conflicted, as if he desperately wanted to say something but was afraid to ask.
Maurise instantly understood the boy's hesitation.
'He wants me to teach him the Patronus Charm.'
"You wish for me to instruct you in the Patronus Charm?"
"Yes," Harry admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. "I cannot afford to lose consciousness every single time a Dementor comes near me. Would you genuinely be willing to teach me?"
Maurise rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"I possess absolutely no personal objection," he said smoothly. "However, I must warn you, I am not a particularly patient or conventional instructor."
'There's no reason to refuse a friend's request.'
'Besides, observing the structure of an ordinary wizard's corporeal Patronus could prove academically useful.'
Harry's eyes lit up with profound gratitude.
"That is perfectly fine!"
The mere fact that Maurise was willing to teach him was far more than he could have ever hoped for.
"We shall commence your training the moment you are officially discharged from the hospital wing," Maurise decided. "I am typically only available on the weekends."
"Thank you, Maurise. I truly appreciate it."
Harry instantly relaxed, a massive weight visibly lifting from his shoulders. His mood had improved.
However, the fleeting sense of relief was utterly obliterated exactly five seconds later.
Hermione reached into her bag and slowly, tragically poured the violently splintered, charred remains of his beloved Nimbus 2000 onto the foot of his bed.
During his fall from the sky, the broomstick had lost control and crashed directly into the Whomping Willow.
Harry stared at the ruined splinters.
'...My Nimbus.'
His entire world completely shattered.