Maurise decided it was probably best to leave.
Dumbledore showed absolutely zero intention of vacating the premises, clearly planning to kill time right there in the underground chamber. Waiting him out was pointless and would only crank up the risk of getting caught. Besides, Maurise had been lurking in the shadows for far too long, and his muscles were beginning to fiercely protest.
Just then, a large bird materialized out of thin air. Trailing magnificent, long tail feathers, it circled the room twice before coming to a graceful halt right in front of the Headmaster. Even through the distorted gloom, Maurise recognized the silhouette. It was Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix.
Dumbledore mumbled something to the bird. Unfortunately, being submerged in magical shadow meant Maurise was practically deaf to the outside world. A few agonizing seconds later, however, both wizard and phoenix vanished on the spot.
Finally.
Maurise exhaled a long breath, stepping out of the darkness and approaching the imposing mirror in the center of the room. The reflection staring back at him was exactly the same scene he had witnessed last time. His deduction was spot on. This was indeed the Mirror of Erised.
But... where was the Philosopher's Stone?
Maurise scoured the chamber meticulously, pacing circles around the room. No stone. No hidden mechanisms. The only thing of note was a small paper bag of sweets resting on the stone floor, evidently left behind by Dumbledore. A quick glance confirmed they were Lemon Sherbets from Honeydukes. A respectable choice. Maurise himself had a soft spot for them.
Suddenly, the air rippled without a shred of warning. A flash of gold and crimson fire erupted, and out stepped Fawkes and Dumbledore, right back into the room.
Maurise's reflexes kicked into overdrive. In a heartbeat, he recast his Umbral walk, melting seamlessly back into the darkness.
Dumbledore remained completely oblivious, casually bending down to retrieve his forgotten bag of sweets. Fawkes, however, did not land. The phoenix hovered in mid-air, its sharp eyes scanning the room.
A sudden, creeping sense of dread washed over Maurise. He inched backward within the shadow, plotting a quiet retreat.
The bird's head snapped directly toward his position.
Maurise froze, holding his breath.
Fawkes tilted his head, his gaze slowly drifting away. Maurise tested his luck and tried to move again. Instantly, the phoenix's head snapped back, its fiery eyes locking onto the exact patch of gloom Maurise occupied.
Twice in a row. That was no coincidence. The blasted bird had spotted him. Was a phoenix's perception really this terrifying? Maurise wasn't entirely sure, but he didn't dare twitch a muscle.
Fawkes's odd behavior quickly caught Dumbledore's attention. The old wizard ambled over to the shadowy corner where Maurise was holding his breath, peered into the darkness, and eventually shook his head at the bird.
Maurise felt his heart finally drop back into his chest. It seemed Dumbledore hadn't noticed a thing. Not even the greatest wizard of the age could see through this specific concealment charm. After all, who expects a student to literally become a shadow?
Then, disaster struck.
Fawkes let out a piercing trill, spread his wings, and burst into a blinding aura of golden-red fire. The magical light flooded the room, violently eradicating every single shadow. It was so blindingly fast that Maurise had no chance to escape. Forced out of the void, he tumbled out of thin air. Thanks to his agility, he managed a rather clean somersault and stuck the landing perfectly on the stone floor.
Dumbledore clearly had not expected a person to pop out of the ether. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a warm smile as he began to clap.
"A very elegant maneuver, Maurise. If the maximum score were ten, I would comfortably award you a nine."
Maurise straightened up and offered the Headmaster a flawless, polite bow. "Thank you for the compliment, Professor."
Brilliant, Maurise thought to himself. Perhaps now was a good time to start researching career options for expelled wizards. To be undone by a glowing chicken... that was definitely not on his bingo card for the year.
"Well then," Dumbledore began, his tone remarkably gentle. "Why exactly are you down here? And please, try to avoid lying. It is a rather dreadful habit."
Maurise didn't even blink. "To see the Philosopher's Stone."
The sheer bluntness of the answer made Dumbledore pause. Then, he chuckled. "I am always delighted when my students embrace honesty. I assume you heard the rumors from Harry? Did you manage to find it?"
Maurise shook his head.
"Come here," Dumbledore gestured, stepping up to the Mirror of Erised. Maurise obliged, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Headmaster. "Only one who truly wants to find the Stone, but does not want to use it, would be able to retrieve it from this mirror," Dumbledore explained.
Maurise reached out and tapped the glass, a hint of regret in his voice. "Looks like I have absolutely no chance of getting it, then."
Wanting it but not wanting to use it? He definitely failed that test. It was only now that he noticed the strange, intricate magical ripples clinging to the glass. Dumbledore's handiwork, no doubt.
"A pity," Dumbledore said. "But tell me, if you had acquired the Stone, what would you have done with it? I imagine you know what it is capable of."
Maurise, being far too young to care about the Elixir of Life, answered practically. "Turn things into gold, obviously. As much as possible."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, entirely unfazed by the answer. "Producing gold is not as simple as waving a wand. Even with the Stone in hand, you would not be able to do it immediately. It requires an exceptionally high mastery of alchemy."
Maurise shrugged. "That is fine. The end result is not really what matters to me."
"The result does not matter?" Dumbledore echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Exactly," Maurise said, his voice ringing with genuine enthusiasm. "If given the chance, I would much rather figure out the mechanics of it. What exactly gives this rock such absurdly miraculous properties? The Stone itself is far more fascinating to me than whatever wealth it can produce."
Dumbledore studied Maurise for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh. "You are a true Ravenclaw, Mr. Maurise."
"Thank you," Maurise smiled faintly. "So, esteemed Headmaster, could we perhaps pretend I was never here tonight?"
"Oh, certainly not," Dumbledore replied breezily, as if rejecting an offer for tea.
Maurise suppressed a groan. Judging by Dumbledore's cheerful demeanor, expulsion was off the table. He was probably looking at a hefty point deduction and a lifetime of detentions.
"What is my punishment, then?" Maurise asked, resigning to his fate.
"Patience. We will discuss your discipline shortly," Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. "Right now, I am far more intrigued by how you arrived here. Unless I am very much mistaken, not a single trap in the corridor above was triggered." Dumbledore tilted his head. "Earlier... did you somehow tuck yourself inside a shadow?"
Dumbledore's tone held nothing but pure, unadulterated curiosity. He didn't sound like a Headmaster interrogating a rule-breaking student at all.
Maurise hesitated.
How on earth was he supposed to answer that?