Maurise had sacrificed an entire afternoon to the dusty silence of the library, yet he had managed to locate only a single volume from the reading list Professor Snape had given him.
The Hogwarts library was simply too vast. Despite the rows of categorized shelves, finding a specific, obscure text without a map was a monumental undertaking.
Fortunately, Madam Pince knew the location of every page in her domain. She was the vulture of the stacks, sharp-eyed and territorial, but undeniably efficient.
After Maurise finally swallowed his pride and asked, the librarian summoned every book on his list within minutes. It was an impressive display of organizational magic. He really should have asked for help sooner.
After solemnly promising Madam Pince three separate times that he would not fold, stain, or breathe too heavily on the pages, Maurise hauled the stack back to his dormitory.
For the next few days, he abandoned food and sleep, diving headfirst into the theory of potion-making. Complex formulas, archaic brewing methods, and the subtle science of ingredient interaction unfolded before his eyes.
It was alien, difficult, and utterly fascinating.
The only downside was the lack of practical application. He had no ingredients of his own and was limited to brewing simple cures during scheduled classes.
Eventually, this wasn't enough. It felt like asking a university scholar to repeatedly solve basic addition problems; the boredom was becoming lethal.
On the last Saturday of October, Maurise finally found it. Tucked away in a copy of 'Advanced Potion-Making', he discovered the recipe he had been hunting for: the Draught of Living Death.
He realized with a jolt that this was actually the Sixth Year curriculum.
The ingredients list was intimidating: powdered root of asphodel, infusion of wormwood, valerian roots, and the juice of a sopophorous bean, along with a dozen stabilizing agents. The brewing instructions were even worse, requiring precise clockwise stirs followed by a counter-clockwise counter-stir.
This was clearly high-level alchemy. Brewing this would make the Cure for Boils look like making a cup of tea.
Maurise was itching to try it.
But a significant obstacle stood in his way. How exactly was a First Year student supposed to acquire sopophorous beans?
Later that afternoon, Maurise found the Weasley twins in the Clock Tower courtyard. They were currently using Filch's confiscated Dungbombs as makeshift marbles.
"Ingredients for the Draught of Living Death?"
Fred took the parchment Maurise offered, his brow furrowing as he scanned the list. "This is a tall order, mate."
"Is it expensive?" Maurise asked.
Fred nodded grimly. "These aren't exactly things you find in the greenhouse. Valerian roots? Sopophorous beans? At a guess, just the raw materials would set you back dozens of Galleons. And that is assuming you can find them. You can't just owl-order this lot from a catalogue."
Maurise felt a migraine brewing.
His entire life savings currently amounted to enough for perhaps one single attempt at the potion. And that was if he could even find a seller.
"What about Diagon Alley?" Maurise asked. "Could I get them there?"
"Probably," Fred mused. "But the apothecaries there know the value of this stuff. They won't let it go cheap."
Maurise sighed, though he felt a slight sense of relief. As long as the materials existed and were purchasable, there was hope. The problem was money. He would just have to find a way to earn some.
It seemed that in the magical world, just like the Muggle one, poverty was the ultimate enemy.
"Thanks, Fred. Thanks, George," Maurise said earnestly.
"Don't mention it," they replied in unison.
Suddenly, George and Fred exchanged a look. It was a look of shared mischief, a silent communication that usually resulted in something exploding.
They moved simultaneously. Before Maurise could react, they had flanked him, each twin clamping a hand onto his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place.
"What's going on?" Maurise asked warily. The sudden shift in their demeanor was unsettling.
"Don't run off just yet, Maurise," Fred lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Dozens of Galleons... that is serious money. Money we suspect you don't have."
"And we happen to know a shortcut," George added, his eyes twinkling. "A perfect solution to your supply chain issues."
Maurise looked between them, his guard instantly up. "What kind of shortcut?"
"Let me be clear," Maurise stated firmly. "I'm not doing anything illegal."
"And I am not selling my organs to a hag in Knockturn Alley. Unless the price is... actually, no. Forget it."
The twins grinned, identical wide smiles that spelled trouble.
"We would never dream of breaking the law!" Fred raised a hand as if taking an oath. "We are upstanding, rule-abiding citizens."
George leaned in close, his voice barely audible. "There is a storage cupboard in the dungeons. You might know it. It sits right next to the Potions classroom."
"You mean..."
"We mean exactly what you think we mean," Fred released his arm. "George and I have taken a peek inside before. The inventory in there is far better than anything on your little list. Rare roots, preserved organs, professional brewing kits... it's all there."
Maurise frowned. "That is definitely against the rules. It's theft."
"It is merely borrowing," George corrected him lightly. "Those materials are school property. We are students of the school. Theoretically, we have usage rights by default. It is basically a communal pantry."
Complete nonsense, Maurise thought.
"Relax, Maurise," Fred patted his shoulder with reassuring force. "It is only against the rules if you get caught."
Maurise looked at them flatly. So this was their definition of being rule-abiding citizens? They really were fearless.
However... he wasn't opposed to the idea.
Maurise thought for a moment. "Hypothetically speaking, who manages this inventory cupboard?"
"Professor Snape," Fred answered.
Maurise nodded slowly. Of course. Who else would it be? There was only one Potions Master at Hogwarts.
"The key is in Snape's office," George explained, sounding entirely too experienced. "Top left desk drawer. It isn't locked, but the runner is sticky. You have to lift it slightly before you pull, or it jams and makes a racket. Do not force it."
Maurise's mouth twitched. "Why do you know that level of detail?"
He didn't need an answer. It was obvious the twins had raided Snape's office more than once.
"So?" Fred asked, his tone enticing. "What do you think? Care to join our little expedition?"
Maurise didn't hesitate for long.
"Alright," he said. "When do we go?"
He wasn't in a desperate rush, but the prospect of brewing the Draught of Living Death was too tempting to ignore, even if it meant risking detention until he graduated.
"Excellent!" Fred beamed. "We officially recognize you as a partner in crime, Maurise."
"Welcome to the firm," George agreed.
They both wore expressions of triumphant schemers. Maurise felt he probably could have lived without this particular honor, but he stayed silent.
The three of them huddled together to finalize the plan. They decided to do a reconnaissance run that very night at midnight. The actual heist, however, would take place during the upcoming Halloween Feast.
During the feast, the Great Hall would be packed with every student and staff member, including Snape. It was the perfect window of opportunity.
"Oh, one last thing," Fred said, pausing as if he just remembered something. "You don't happen to know the Disillusionment Charm, do you?"
"Actually, I do," Maurise replied calmly.
The twins' eyebrows shot up in unison.
"Really?" Fred looked at Maurise with new appreciation. "You cracked a charm like that in your first year?"
The Disillusionment Charm was not exactly obscure magic, but it was notoriously difficult to perform correctly. It was usually N.E.W.T level work.
Maurise drew his wand to demonstrate. He tapped it lightly against his chest.
Reviewing the feeling of cold egg yolk sliding down his back...
Slowly, his outline began to blur. His colors shifted, mimicking the grey stone of the courtyard wall behind him, until nothing remained but a heat haze in the air.
Fred let out a low whistle.
"It is a bit rough around the edges, but effective," he critiqued. "Certainly enough to fool Filch and Mrs. Norris."
Maurise canceled the spell, his form solidifying back into view.
"It serves its purpose," he said simply.
He hadn't spent much time perfecting the charm. He only knew the incantation and the theory. In reality, for staying hidden in the dark, he had his own methods. His Shadow Arts were far superior to any charm when the lights went out.
But for now, letting the twins believe he was just a prodigy at Charms was safer.