Regardless of its origins, the Animagus transformation was an incredibly fascinating piece of magic.
Over the next few days, Maurise's greatest source of entertainment was turning into a bird and flying freely around the castle and the Forbidden Forest. It was a completely different sensation from riding a bone dragon or sailing in his Ship in a Bottle. Feeling the wind rush through his feathers and gazing down at the world from a foreign, aerial perspective were both wonderfully novel experiences.
However, the sheer novelty eventually began to wear off. Maurise soon shifted his focus back to other ongoing projects.
His flying broomsticks, for example.
After a period of dedicated effort, the broomsticks he crafted had finally reached a level of maneuverability that satisfied his high standards. While the handling was not quite on par with a Firebolt, his creation boasted one irreplaceable advantage. Speed. If one were willing to completely ignore rider comfort, its top speed could easily reach twice that of a Firebolt.
That specific statistic alone was more than enough to secure a solid share of the broomstick market.
It was a pity that he had to craft every single broomstick by hand. Although the process was not particularly difficult once he got the hang of it, his overall production output was inherently limited.
Suitcase in hand, Maurise strolled out of the castle, mentally calculating the feasibility of mass production as he made his way toward the Quidditch pitch. He had arranged to meet the Weasley twins for a test flight.
Even with their O.W.L. exams looming, Fred and George had eagerly accepted his invitation. Both of them were incredibly interested in a broomstick claiming to be twice as fast as a Firebolt. As seasoned Quidditch players, they knew exactly what that kind of speed meant on the pitch.
Maurise had originally wanted to invite Harry as well, but the boy was currently buried under a mountain of books in the library, scribbling furiously. Maurise had not wanted to interrupt his studying.
Halfway to the pitch, a familiar head of red hair caught his eye.
As he drew closer, he realized it was neither Fred nor George, but Ron. Ron was deep in conversation with an unfamiliar woman. She was wearing an overly bright, eye-catching red robe and had heavily curled hair, looking to be somewhere in her forties or fifties.
Maurise was absolutely certain she was not a member of the Hogwarts staff. Had Dumbledore invited her?
He took a few steps closer, allowing fragments of their conversation to drift to his ears.
"...Ron," the woman was saying with a sweet, lingering smile. "Did you truly have no idea that your beloved pet was actually a notorious criminal in disguise?"
Ron stood rigidly in place. "I already told you I do not want to talk about this. Besides, I do not even know who you are."
"Oh, darling, it is just a casual chat." The woman pressed forward, her smile growing even more radiant. "I introduced myself earlier. I am a reporter, and my solemn duty is to bring the truth to the public. You know how it is. The truth is exactly what the people need."
"So, let us try a different question. Do you know what Peter Pettigrew's ultimate fate is now?"
"I do not want to know." Ron dropped the sentence coldly and hurried away. He brushed right past Maurise in his haste, not even pausing to say hello.
At that exact moment, Maurise noticed a notebook and a vibrant green quill hovering in midair right in front of the woman, scribbling away furiously all on its own.
Once Ron had fled, the woman's sharp gaze immediately locked onto Maurise, who was walking in the same direction.
"Ah, you must be Maurise Black, correct?" She hurried over, her tone dripping with feigned affection.
Maurise blinked in mild surprise. "Who are you?"
"Oh my, I suppose a proper introduction is in order." The woman chuckled, extending a hand adorned with a large, glittering jeweled ring. "Rita Skeeter, special correspondent for the Daily Prophet. You must have heard of me, darling. I have penned quite a few sensational stories in my time."
Maurise looked at the outstretched hand but made no move to take it.
He had indeed seen that exact name frequently plastered across the Daily Prophet. However, it was almost always attached to the most scandalous, exaggerated gossip columns.
Rita did not seem to mind the snub. She naturally withdrew her hand as her acid-green quill and notebook floated into position right in front of her, hovering at the ready.
"And? What exactly do you want?" Maurise asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Just a simple interview," Rita stated. "I know perfectly well that you are the student who captured Sirius Black. The Ministry might be keeping it under wraps, but I always uncover the truth."
"Is that so?" Maurise could not care less.
He had never made any active effort to hide his involvement. She could have grabbed literally any student in the corridors and figured that out in seconds.
"Then let us begin our little interview." Rita smoothly shifted into a highly professional demeanor, plastering a wide smile across her face. "First question. Could you please tell my readers how exactly you..."
"I am not accepting interviews."
Maurise interrupted her politely but firmly. He turned and walked away without a single second of hesitation. He had absolutely zero time to waste chatting with her. Furthermore, this reporter from the Daily Prophet had already left a terribly poor impression on him.
Rita froze in complete shock.
The vibrant green quill hovered uselessly in the air, having failed to jot down a single word.
"Wait a moment!"
She quickly recovered her wits and hurried after him.
Maurise did not even bother to turn his head. He merely drew his wand and gave it a lazy backward flick.
An invisible barrier instantly expanded behind him.
Rita collided heavily with the unseen wall. She let out a sharp gasp of pain and stumbled several steps backward.
"Ouch!" She rubbed her throbbing forehead, the fake smile entirely vanishing from her face.
But Maurise was already far away, leaving her with nothing but a fading silhouette.
"Fine. Very well. Just you wait."
Rita sneered coldly. Her keen journalistic instincts screamed that this student named Maurise Black was hiding some massive, highly lucrative secrets.
At that very same moment, perched quietly in a nearby tree, an owl with eerie blue flames burning in its eyes was silently watching her every move.
---
By the time Maurise stepped onto the Quidditch pitch, Fred and George were already happily zooming through the air above.
Upon spotting him, the twins immediately went into a steep dive, landing smoothly right in front of him.
"Taking a casual flight every now and then is genuinely refreshing." Fred hopped off his broom, sighing nostalgically. "I actually miss Oliver Wood right now. We probably will not ever get the chance to play on the same team again."
Maurise asked casually, "Wood is graduating this year, correct?"
"Yeah," Fred nodded wistfully. "I heard he is currently trying out for a spot as the reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United."
Maurise gave a polite nod and did not ask any further questions. After all, he knew absolutely nothing about professional Quidditch teams.
"Enough chitchat," George cut in eagerly. "Maurise, where are these broomsticks you want us to test?"
Maurise popped open his suitcase, pulled out two absolutely identical broomsticks, and handed them over.
Fred eagerly grabbed his and immediately began inspecting it closely.
The overall appearance had not changed much from previous prototypes, but it was noticeably lighter in weight.
"Give them a try," Maurise instructed. "Barring any unexpected issues, this should be the final retail version."
Fred and George exchanged a thrilled look before simultaneously swinging their legs over the polished wood, practically vibrating with excitement.
"The cushioning charms feel a lot more comfortable than the last batch," Fred noted approvingly.
"Let's go."
With a shout from George, the two of them instantly shot into the sky. The acceleration was truly terrifying.
Maurise tilted his head back, watching the two blurred figures weave rapidly through the air.
Truthfully, the performance was even better than he had anticipated. Sharp turns, steep dives, barrel rolls, and sudden stops... every single maneuver was executed with incredible fluidity without sacrificing a shred of speed.
Fred and George flew wildly for over ten minutes before finally descending slowly to hover in front of Maurise.
Both of their faces were flushed with pure adrenaline and exhilaration.
"Absolutely brilliant, Maurise," Fred gasped, collapsing onto the soft grass, completely out of breath.
The faster a broomstick moved, the more physical stamina it required to properly control it. Clearly, he had pushed the broom, and himself, to the absolute limit.
Maurise smiled faintly. "Glad to hear it."
Just as the words left his mouth, the distinct sound of flapping wings echoed from above.
He looked up just in time to see Cinder dive down and land securely on his shoulder.
"What is it?" Maurise asked softly.
Cinder let out a quiet, rhythmic hoot.
Maurise's expression instantly turned rather complicated.
"Are you telling me that reporter just transformed into a little bug?"