It was the first Saturday of mid-October.
The weather had finally cleared after a long spell of gloom. Maurise took the opportunity to take his pet cat, Tin, for a stroll through the castle grounds.
That was the trouble with British weather. The days were usually dominated by endless drizzle and grey skies, making a day of such transparent, brilliant sunlight a rare commodity.
It was rather strange, actually. It was normal for the living to enjoy a sunny day, but Maurise had not expected Tin to be so fond of the sunlight. The cat was, after all, an undead creature. Maurise had always assumed necrotic beings preferred damp, gloomy, and shadowy corners.
It appeared that was just another stereotype he needed to unlearn.
Boy and cat wandered slowly along the edge of the Black Lake, soaking in the leisurely morning atmosphere. As much as Maurise loved his studies, even he needed to unwind occasionally.
Along the way, quite a few students greeted Maurise. He responded to each one with a polite nod or a wave. Most of them were fellow Ravenclaws. It seemed his academic prowess had inadvertently earned him a solid reputation within his own House.
He did not mind the attention. He had never intended to hide his intelligence or his capability as a wizard. However, the fact that he was a Necromancer? That was a secret that had to stay buried. The title did not exactly have a glowing reputation in the wizarding world. He knew perfectly well that announcing he raised the dead for a hobby would likely result in a one-way ticket to Azkaban, or at the very least, an expulsion.
Near noon, Maurise reached the central garden courtyard. As he turned into the stone corridor, he nearly collided with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Harry and Ron seemed practically joined at the hip these days. Whenever Maurise saw one, the other was usually within arm's reach. Maurise got along well enough with them, especially Ron.
Ever since Ron learned that Maurise kept a spider as a pet, the redhead had been begging Maurise to help him cure his arachnophobia. Ron's fear was severe; even a spider the size of a fingernail could reduce him to a trembling mess.
Maurise had tried to help, though the results were… less than ideal.
In an attempt at exposure therapy, Maurise had once transfigured a rock into a fist-sized spider. The result was chaotic. Ron, who supposedly had not mastered any spells yet, panicked so thoroughly that his wand discharged a violent jet of accidental magic. The blast obliterated the spider instantly.
Unfortunately, the incident took place in a crowded garden. The spell ricocheted and struck another student squarely on the buttocks. The poor victim was Neville Longbottom, the same boy who had lost his toad on the train. Flowers had literally bloomed on his trousers.
"Oi! Maurise! Over here!" Ron had spotted him from a distance and was waving enthusiastically.
"Hello," Maurise said, stopping in his tracks. On his shoulder, Tin lazily lifted its chin, which counted as a greeting. "Where are you two off to?"
"Library," Ron said with a heavy shrug, looking miserable. Then, a spark of hope lit his eyes. "Wait. Maurise, what was your Potions homework for this week? Is it the same as ours?"
"An essay on the appearance and uses of basic ingredients," Maurise recited from memory. "Daisy roots, shriveled fig skins, porcupine quills, ginger roots, sopophorous beans…"
"Alright, alright, that's the one," Ron interrupted, looking impressed and slightly headache-induced. "I don't know how you remember all those names. But thank Merlin, it's the same assignment. I assume you've finished yours?"
"I have," Maurise nodded.
He looked at the expression on Ron's face. It was a complex mixture of desperate hope and guilt. Maurise knew exactly what was coming. They were after his parchment.
Sure enough, Ron's eyes lit up. He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, a fawning smile plastered on his face. "Could you… let us use it as a reference? Just a peek? You'd help Harry and me out, wouldn't you? We are friends, after all."
Beside him, Harry looked slightly awkward, but he did not stop Ron. He needed that "reference material" just as badly.
Maurise smiled. "I'll let you copy it. Don't worry."
He really did not mind. It was standard student procedure.
Ron let out a massive sigh of relief, though he quickly tried to save face. "Copy? No, no. It's not copying. It's… borrowing for inspiration!"
"Whatever you say," Maurise said, handing over the roll of parchment from his bag. "Just don't let Snape catch you."
"Relax, zero chance of that!" Ron swore solemnly. Then he paused, realizing the flaw in his plan. He turned to his best friend. "Harry, you might need to be careful. You know how Snape is. He's got a bit of an opinion on you… alright, a massive opinion. He'll definitely be looking for reasons to fail you."
Harry's expression immediately soured, shifting into a mix of depression and helplessness. Snape's targeted harassment of The Boy Who Lived was common knowledge throughout the school by now. To this day, Harry had no idea why.
"I just don't get it," Harry said, his voice laced with frustration. "I've never done anything to him! From the very first lesson, he's hated my guts. I'd never even met the man before coming here!"
"Maybe it's because you're the Savior of the Wizarding World," Maurise suggested with a shrug. "Or perhaps one of your relatives or elders had a feud with him, and you're just inheriting the debt."
Maurise did not know the specific details of the original story, so he could only offer logical guesses.
"It's impossible to understand," Harry sighed. "This is the first time I've ever… truly hated someone. And a teacher, no less."
"Me too," Ron nodded vigorously. As Harry's best friend, he often got caught in the crossfire of Snape's venom.
"I actually think Professor Snape is alright," Maurise said honestly.
"What?"
"What?!"
Harry and Ron shouted in unison, their eyes bulging as they stared at Maurise in disbelief. They could not believe their ears. Someone was actually defending the dungeon bat?
For a split second, Harry felt a surge of dislike toward Maurise. But then he remembered the Potions essay currently in his hand.
'Right. He's letting me copy his homework. I forgive him', Harry thought.
"Professor Snape's lectures are incredibly organized," Maurise explained, his face calm. "If you look purely at the steps for processing potion ingredients, the theory behind the reactions, and the key points he emphasizes… he is extremely precise and clear."
Harry and Ron looked at each other, baffled.
"Furthermore," Maurise continued, "I actually admire him. I found some old academic papers he published in the library. He wrote them when he was still a student. The content regarding the subtle properties of…"
"Okay, stop, please stop," Ron said, waving his hands as if shooing away a fly. He looked at Maurise's clear, earnest eyes and felt a headache coming on. "That doesn't change the fact that he's a git. Right, Harry?"
Harry opened his mouth to agree, but looking at Maurise's matter-of-fact expression, he suddenly felt his anger had nowhere to go. He knew Snape was talented; you did not become a Head of House at Hogwarts by being incompetent. But that did not justify the bullying.
Maurise watched the conflict play out on Harry's face and offered a suggestion.
"Snape's attitude toward you is definitely unique. That's indisputable. Why don't you…" Maurise paused for effect. "Why don't you just go and ask him, face-to-face, why he hates you?"
Sometimes, sincerity was the ultimate weapon.
Perhaps a direct question would clear up the misunderstanding. After all, barring any unforeseen accidents, Snape was going to be their Potions Master for the next seven years. It was necessary to build a good relationship with one's professors. Even for Harry Potter.
Harry stared at him, horrified by the mere suggestion.