Ever since October began, the sun seemed to have permanently vanished from the sky above Hogwarts. Every day was a dreary expanse of grey. The rain alternated between torrential downpours and persistent drizzles, stubbornly refusing to stop.
Maurise had temporarily suspended his weekly nocturnal expeditions to the Forbidden Forest to excavate dragon bones. He had absolutely no desire to slog through thick, sticky mud in such miserable weather.
Was it not infinitely better to stay inside his comfortable dormitory and study magical theory? Alternatively, diving into the Gap World for a bit of exploration was also a fantastic option.
Perhaps due to the relentless dampness, a sudden wave of the common cold swept through the student body. Maurise found this rather baffling. A wizard's baseline physical constitution was supposed to be vastly superior to that of an ordinary Muggle.
His confusion lasted right up until he started violently sneezing himself.
Thankfully, magical remedies were a wonderful thing. No matter how severe the cold, a single vial of Pepperup Potion cured it instantly. If one vial did not do the trick, you simply drank a second.
All the medicinal potions used at Hogwarts, including the hospital wing's entire supply, were personally brewed by the Potions Master, Severus Snape. However, Snape occasionally drafted competent students to help him prepare the simpler concoctions.
Because the hospital wing's stock of Pepperup Potion was dangerously low, Maurise suddenly found himself conscripted into forced magical labor.
Saturday morning, in the gloomy dungeons.
"Black!" Snape's sharp gaze cut across the room, pinning Maurise in place. "Do not waste my ingredients. Show some focus!"
"Yes, sir," Maurise replied. He casually put down the half-eaten biscuit in his hand and picked up his stirring rod. For someone of his current skill level, messing up a basic Pepperup Potion was practically impossible.
For a while, the only sound in the classroom was the rhythmic, bubbling gurgle of boiling cauldrons. The two of them were simultaneously managing several cauldrons to mass-produce the remedy.
"Professor, I have a question," Maurise said, slicing a ginger root into thick, even pieces. "Why did you specifically drag me here to brew these? There are plenty of students at Hogwarts capable of making this particular potion."
Snape cast a sideways glance at him. "Are you dissatisfied with the arrangement?"
"No. I am simply curious," Maurise answered honestly.
"Then suppress your curiosity," Snape sneered coldly. "And do not question my decisions."
Maurise sighed inwardly. This was definitely just unpaid child labor.
After an entire morning of tedious work, they finally finished the batch.
When the final vial of Pepperup Potion was corked, labeled, and placed securely in the designated storage crate, Maurise set his wand down and let out a long breath.
"Phew. Well, Professor, I will be taking my leave now. Goodbye."
Just as he stood up and gathered his bag, a very faint whistling sound cut through the air.
Maurise raised his hand almost entirely on reflex, catching a small, cold object before it hit his face. He opened his palm. Resting inside was a small, intricately carved brass key. It looked vaguely familiar, but he could not quite remember where he had seen it before.
"What is this for?" Maurise asked, looking up at his professor.
"The key to the private ingredients storeroom," Snape replied, his voice completely flat. "You may select three ingredients of your choosing to take with you. Consider it compensation for your labor today."
Well, he is not a complete tyrant after all, Maurise thought with a smile. He had previously confirmed that the Hogwarts private storerooms held incredibly rare, highly valuable ingredients that were impossible to find on the open market.
"Any three ingredients at all?" he asked cautiously, just to be absolutely sure.
"Yes. But once you have made your selection, bring them to me for verification," Snape ordered before turning and vanishing into his private office, offering no further explanation.
Half an hour later, Maurise strolled down the corridor toward his dormitory with a small, enchanted pouch swinging happily from his hand. He was in a fantastic mood.
Since Snape had given him completely free rein, Maurise naturally did not hold back. He had specifically selected the absolute rarest and most obscenely expensive materials he could find. If he were to buy them outside the castle, they would easily cost over a hundred Galleons, assuming he could even find a seller.
It made him deeply appreciate just how ridiculously wealthy Hogwarts truly was.
As he reached a landing on the grand staircase, a familiar, obnoxiously dramatic voice drifted up from below.
"Patience, my dears, patience! There is plenty of time, everyone will get a personalized autograph..."
Maurise peered over the railing. A large gaggle of lower-year girls was clustered tightly together. Right in the center of the swooning mob stood Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing a set of eye-watering, vibrant purple robes. He was busy flashing his award-winning smile and signing books.
Maurise immediately took a detour to avoid the crowd. He had absolutely zero desire to interact with Lockhart right now.
As he rounded a quiet corner, he nearly collided head-on with someone rushing in the opposite direction.
"Oh!" The girl gasped in shock, fumbling the massive stack of books in her arms. Maurise shot his hands out with lightning speed, stabilizing the teetering tower before it could crash to the stone floor.
"Sorry about that, Hermione," Maurise said, recognizing her bushy hair instantly.
"It is fine, Maurise," Hermione said breathlessly, quickly securing her grip on the heavy stack. She cast a nervous, hopeful glance over her shoulder in the direction Maurise had just come from. "Did you happen to see Professor Lockhart?"
"I did. He is right around the previous corner, currently signing autographs for a small army of girls," Maurise replied truthfully.
It was only then that Maurise took a closer look at the books she was hugging to her chest. Every single cover featured Lockhart's gleaming, overly white teeth. She was carrying his entire published bibliography.
"Do not tell me you are also going to get his autograph," Maurise asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.
"Yes, actually," Hermione replied, her tone turning slightly defensive and stiff. "I do want his autograph. His books are incredibly fascinating, are they not?"
"Fascinating is certainly one word for them, but that is about the extent of it." Maurise let out a heavy sigh. "Have you honestly not figured out what kind of person Lockhart is yet? He is nothing but a... well, let me put this as bluntly as possible, Hermione. Lockhart is completely incompetent. He is just a moderately talented fiction author."
He actually liked Hermione quite a bit. She was a bright girl. Unfortunately, girls her age were painfully susceptible to blind hero worship. He figured a gentle reality check was in order.
Hearing Maurise's blunt assessment, Hermione bristled instantly. "Incompetent? How could you possibly think that?"
"Because I have asked him several academic questions regarding charm theory. More than once, actually," Maurise explained calmly. "None of them were particularly obscure or overly difficult, yet he failed to answer a single one. Professor Flitwick resolved the exact same questions for me in seconds."
"You cannot just jump to conclusions based on a few unanswered questions!" Hermione argued, her lip curling in stubborn defiance. Clearly, she was already a deeply indoctrinated follower.
"Did you not see what he did in class?" she continued passionately. "Professor Lockhart valiantly rescued an entire pack of cursed skeletal hounds from the clutches of an evil Dark Wizard! He even managed to reverse part of their curse to restore their vitality. Are you trying to tell me that was completely faked?"
"Ah. Yes. About that," Maurise nodded slowly, his expression perfectly deadpan. "He bought those skeletal dogs directly from me."
"What?" Hermione froze, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. "But... but... Professor Lockhart specifically said..."
"Lockhart is playing you all for fools," Maurise stated flatly. "Oh, by the way, do not confront him about the dogs. If you expose his lie, he might fly into a rage and cause trouble for me. Those bones were not cheap, and I would very much like to keep him as a paying customer."
Hermione stood completely paralyzed in the middle of the corridor. Her face was a chaotic, spectacular mix of absolute shock, betrayal, and profound confusion. She looked entirely lost for words.
Seeing her mental short-circuit, Maurise let out a soft chuckle. "Well, I must be going. See you later, Hermione."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped around her and continued his brisk walk toward the Ravenclaw common room.
He smiled to himself. Lockhart's blind fanatic count had officially been reduced by one.