Maurise didn't hesitate to share his thoughts with Harry.
"Sincerity?" Harry blinked, looking utterly bewildered. "You mean... you want me to just walk up to Snape and ask, 'Professor, why do you loathe my very existence?'"
Just imagining the scenario sent a shiver down Harry's spine.
What would Snape's reaction be?
A colder, sharper sneer?
A deduction of fifty points from Gryffindor?
Or perhaps he would simply stare at Harry with those tunnel-like eyes, freezing him in place before delivering a verbal evisceration that would leave him trembling for a week?
"Don't listen to him, mate," Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth, eyeing Maurise suspiciously. "He's having you on. That sounds like a suicide mission."
Harry nodded vigorously. He agreed with Ron entirely.
Seeing their reaction, Maurise shook his head with a touch of regret. "That's a pity. If it were me, I'd ask him to his face."
He wasn't lying. If a professor made their dislike for him that obvious, Maurise would march right up and demand the data points. If there was a misunderstanding, clear it up. If there wasn't, find a solution. That was his methodology.
But if Harry wasn't willing to risk his life, there was nothing to be done. Everyone had different risk tolerances, after all. He couldn't force his pragmatism on others.
They chatted idly for a while longer until the sun hung high in the sky, signaling midday.
"See you in the library this afternoon," Ron reminded them as they prepared to part ways. "And don't forget to bring that Potions essay."
"Right, thanks for the... help with the homework," Harry added.
"Don't mention it," Maurise waved them off, watching as they disappeared around the corridor corner.
Now, he intended to head back to his dormitory to practice some charm work. However, just as he turned to leave, he felt a weight land on his shoulder.
"Meow."
Tin, his cat, poked Maurise's cheek with a soft paw.
"What is it?" Maurise asked, tilting his head.
Tin pointed a claw toward a large stone gargoyle standing silently beside the corridor wall. It was nearly as tall as Hagrid and cast a long, deep shadow.
"Is there something there?"
Maurise understood Tin's signal immediately and stepped around to the back of the statue.
Hidden within the shadows, a tall, thin figure in black robes was leaning against the stone. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes were closed as if he were resting.
It was the very subject of their recent discussion.
Professor Snape.
Maurise froze mid-step.
He had no idea how long Snape had been standing there, but given the proximity, it was statistically probable that he had heard every single word of their conversation.
Just as Maurise debated whether to quietly retreat or attempt a polite greeting, Snape's eyes snapped open. His black gaze locked onto Maurise with laser precision.
"Good afternoon, Professor."
Maurise nodded politely. He didn't intend to linger and immediately pivoted to leave.
"Halt, Mr. Black," Snape said. His voice was silky and calm, betraying no emotion, which was somehow worse than shouting.
"Is there something you need, sir?" Maurise asked promptly. His attitude was open and unbothered.
Unlike Harry, he wasn't particularly terrified of the Potions Master. Furthermore, he hadn't said anything inappropriate. Students discussing their professors in private was a statistically normal occurrence. If a grown man and accomplished wizard got angry over the chatter of eleven-year-olds, that would be rather petty.
Snape stared at Maurise, his eyes sharp as scalpels.
"My hearing is excellent," Snape said slowly, taking a small step forward. The shadows seemed to cling to him as he moved. "Just now, I believe I heard you offer to lend your homework to your classmates? You are exceptionally generous, Mr. Black."
Maurise didn't even blink. "You must have misheard, Professor."
He had completely forgotten about that part. Discussing illicit homework trading in front of the teacher in question was, admittedly, a tactical error.
"I assure you, there is nothing wrong with my hearing," Snape said coldly, raising an eyebrow. "Ten points from Ravenclaw."
"Is there room for negotiation on that?"
"No," Snape sneered. "And let me remind you... if Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley submit essays that mirror yours, they will each earn a twenty-point deduction for Gryffindor."
"Understood, Professor."
Maurise sighed. It seemed he wouldn't be able to assist Harry and Ron with their academic struggles. At least, not in Potions.
"Wise choice."
Snape nodded with grim satisfaction.
Then, he watched as Maurise reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a plain-looking notebook and a quill.
"What are you doing?" Snape asked. The sudden shift in behavior confused him.
Maurise flipped the notebook open, his expression shifting to one of professional seriousness. "Professor, since I happen to have run into you, and we are already conversing, I have several questions regarding Potions theory I was hoping to clarify."
Snape's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. The situation felt absurd.
This student had just lost ten house points and been threatened with further punishment, yet he was calmly pulling out a notebook to ask academic questions.
Snape paused. He remembered the name "Maurise Black." In his class, Maurise always completed his preparations perfectly. He had even awarded Ravenclaw points for the boy's performance. He had also verified that Maurise was not related to that Sirius Black.
"Mr. Black," Snape said frostily. "Do you truly think this is the appropriate time to discuss academic matters?"
Maurise looked confused. "Is it not?"
Snape let out a cold huff, refusing to dignify that with an answer. His body language screamed dismissal.
"Alright then." Maurise closed the notebook, looking genuinely disappointed.
He had assumed Hogwarts professors would be eager to answer a student's questions. Apparently, that hypothesis was incorrect. Snape's rating in his mental database dropped a tier.
It wasn't a joke. He really had accumulated a backlog of questions. The deeper he delved into the study of magical chemistry, the more variables he found.
He would just have to bother the older Ravenclaw prefects later.
"Goodbye then, Professor Snape." Maurise turned to leave.
"Wait."
Maurise turned back. Snape was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
"If you truly have questions," Snape said, his voice low, "ask them now."
Maurise blinked, surprised by the sudden permission. It seemed his assessment wasn't entirely wrong. This Snape fellow wasn't evil, just socially abrasive and strictly disciplined. And perhaps allergic to Harry Potter.
"Thank you, Professor."
Maurise happily flipped his notebook open again. "I don't have too many. First, regarding the stabilizing effect of porcupine quills in the Cure for Boils, followed by the interaction of Abyssinian Shrivelfig skins, and also..."
He rattled off several questions in quick succession until Snape raised a hand to cut him off.
"Let me see the notebook."
Maurise handed it over immediately, without a trace of hesitation or guilt.
Snape took the book and began to read silently.
Slowly, the impassive mask on his face cracked, revealing genuine surprise.
The notebook was chaotic, filled with queries ranging from the simple to the complex. But the content wasn't the point.
The point was the intent. Even Snape could feel it radiating from the pages. A pure, unadulterated passion for Potions.
Maurise had only been at Hogwarts for just over a month. He had barely scratched the surface of the curriculum. Yet, this level of dedication was something Snape rarely saw in his entire teaching career.
It was almost like looking in a mirror, at a younger version of himself.