The Weasley twins were evidently highly enthusiastic about the Shadow Stone product launch, practically buzzing with entrepreneurial energy.
After spending the entire afternoon finalizing their grand marketing strategy, Maurise returned to his dormitory, collapsing onto his bed with a long, satisfying stretch.
The retail plan for the Shadow Stones was firmly established. The twins intended to conduct a highly exclusive, limited soft launch within the student body. Once they had accumulated sufficient capital, they planned to systematically expand their marketing reach, aggressively targeting the broader magical community across Britain and, eventually, all of Europe.
Maurise had absolutely no objections to their ambitious roadmap.
In fact, the arrangement suited him perfectly. He fully intended to play the role of the aloof, hands-off CEO. Carving the Shadow Stones was a relatively simple, low-effort process for him. The twins were more than welcome to handle the messy, tedious legwork of actual retail.
Regarding the profit split, Maurise had casually proposed a clean fifty-fifty margin.
For the Weasley brothers, who were required to invest absolutely zero capital or manufacturing labor into a guaranteed, highly lucrative monopoly, this was an astonishingly generous offer. Furthermore, the more units they sold, the more Galleons they stood to make. Naturally, the generous terms only fueled their motivation further.
After resting for a short while, Maurise sat up and directed his focus inward, consulting the Book of the Magi floating within his mentalscape.
A brand new magical discipline had recently unlocked: Point-to-Point Teleportation.
As the name suggested, it was a highly advanced spatial spell remarkably similar to Apparition. Simply put, by physically carving a specific runic array onto their own body, the caster could instantaneously transport themselves to a previously designated, magically marked location.
Eager to test the new spell, Maurise immediately began the intricate process of carefully drawing the teleportation array onto the back of his left hand.
As always, his chosen medium was his own blood. He had discovered quite early on in his studies that utilizing materials possessing an innate, powerful magical resonance drastically enhanced the stability and effectiveness of any runic array.
While the teleportation array was relatively small in physical size, it was staggeringly complex. It was, without a doubt, the single most convoluted, intricate piece of runic geometry Maurise had encountered since he began his magical education, featuring multiple, overlapping layers of nested matrices.
Failure, adjustment, failure...
Time slipped by unnoticed. The dormitory grew quiet as the hour grew incredibly late.
Finally, precisely at two o'clock in the morning, Maurise applied the final, delicate stroke to the array.
On the back of his left hand, the thin lines of dark red blood formed a dizzyingly complex, mesmerizing pattern. The array did not glow, nor did it emit any strange sounds.
Maurise raised his hand and slowly, deliberately channeled his magic into the bloody runes.
A split second later, a massive, perfectly identical, glowing replica of the array—roughly three feet in diameter—materialized silently on the wooden floorboards directly in front of him.
The anchor point was successfully established.
Maurise pushed open his dormitory door and stepped out into the empty, darkened Ravenclaw common room.
"Vra... Shif... Zhar." (Teleport)
With a mere thought, the world around him blurred. In a fraction of a second, he was standing squarely in the center of the glowing array back inside his dormitory.
It was a flawless success.
The spatial transition was incredibly smooth, completely lacking the sickening, squeezing sensation associated with Apparition.
Furthermore, it appeared that Hogwarts' legendary, impenetrable anti-Apparition wards were entirely ineffective against this specific form of necromantic spatial manipulation.
Compared to standard Apparition, this spell possessed one massive, distinct advantage: it required absolutely zero preparation time or physical movement.
Apparition required intense, unwavering mental focus—the three D's—making it highly impractical and dangerous to execute in the heat of a chaotic battle. Conversely, Point-to-Point Teleportation required nothing more than a split-second mental command to activate.
It was the ultimate, foolproof escape method.
Naturally, the spell came with a significant drawback. It was highly inflexible. The caster could only travel to a location they had previously prepared with a physical anchor array.
However, the immense tactical benefits vastly outweighed that minor inconvenience.
Looking down at the glowing array permanently burned into his floorboards, a sudden, highly appealing thought crossed Maurise's mind.
He was going to build himself a secret lair.
Or, more accurately, a highly secure, private base of operations.
Every single wizard, regardless of their age or maturity, harbored a deep, instinctual, highly romanticized fantasy regarding the concept of a "secret base." Maurise was certainly no exception.
Furthermore, possessing a totally secure, private sanctuary was a tactical necessity. While his Hogwarts dormitory was relatively safe, sharing a room with other students was undeniably inconvenient for his more... sensitive research projects.
He fully intended to begin constructing his private sanctuary over the upcoming summer holidays.
---
Exactly one week remained before the final exams officially commenced.
Deep beneath the castle, inside the Chamber of Secrets.
"Phew. It is finally complete."
Maurise wiped the heavy sweat from his brow and pulled a silver pocket watch from his robes.
'Hmm. Five o'clock in the morning.'
He had accidentally pulled yet another all-nighter.
Looming directly in front of him, the newly resurrected, heavily modified Basilisk slowly coiled its colossal body, letting out a low, incredibly affectionate hiss as it nuzzled the floor near Maurise's boots.
Yes, the Basilisk had officially joined his roster of undead summons.
Unfortunately, the current iteration of the Basilisk was far from its original, pristine condition.
Maurise had been forced to aggressively replace almost all of its heavily pulverized components. Aesthetically, the serpent looked vastly different from the beast that had terrorized the school.
Its lethal, yellow eyes had been completely replaced by twin orbs of blazing, pale blue soul fire. Its massive, armored hide was a horrific, patchwork quilt of mismatched scales and stitched flesh, possessing a highly rugged, intensely chaotic, Frankenstein-esque charm. Even its shattered fangs had been forcibly replaced with massive, wicked spikes of an unidentified, stainless-steel-like alloy that gleamed coldly in the dim light of the Chamber.
Truthfully, Maurise was actually quite fond of this heavily modified, post-apocalyptic aesthetic.
"Well, Tom, what do you think? Doesn't the Basilisk look absolutely magnificent now?" Maurise asked the skeletal wolf sitting obediently by his side.
Tom immediately lowered his skull. "It is an unparalleled masterpiece, Master. A true triumph of magical engineering. I have never witnessed a more breathtaking creation..."
It was the exact same, highly exaggerated flattery as always.
Having spent a significant amount of time with him, Maurise had begun to fully understand Tom's personality. The young Dark Lord was incredibly perceptive and exceptionally skilled at reading the room. He always knew exactly what to say to stroke his superior's ego.
It was no wonder so many prominent Hogwarts professors had been thoroughly charmed by him during his school days. What educator wouldn't absolutely adore a highly intelligent, impossibly handsome, incredibly well-spoken prodigy?
Maurise shook his head in mild amusement and turned to his other companion. "What is your assessment, Tin?"
"Meow." (It is incredibly ugly.)
Tin, having been summoned to inspect the newest recruit, offered a highly blunt, completely unapologetic critique.
Maurise chuckled lightly. It seemed Tom possessed a vastly superior appreciation for avant-garde art.
At that moment, Tin sauntered forward casually. Completely ignoring the Basilisk's terrifying, stitched-together appearance, the tiny skeletal cat leaped gracefully into the air, landing perfectly on the top of the serpent's massive, armored skull.
Tin began pacing elegantly back and forth, emitting a deep, highly satisfied purr. The little cat was blatantly establishing its dominance and asserting its position as the alpha of the undead pack.
The Basilisk accepted the display with remarkable patience, keeping its colossal body completely still while the tiny cat trampled all over its head.
Perhaps slightly intoxicated by its own perceived authority, Tin took a careless step. Its bony paw slipped on a particularly smooth, metallic scale, and the cat instantly lost its balance.
"Meow?!"
Tin let out a panicked yelp, its four limbs flailing wildly in the air as it tipped backward, completely losing its grip on the massive skull.
Instinctively, the Basilisk attempted to catch the falling cat, violently jerking its colossal head to the side to act as a cushion.
Unfortunately, the beast severely miscalculated the force required.
SMACK!
The Basilisk's head slammed directly into the falling cat. Tin was launched across the cavernous hall like a furry cannonball.
The tiny skeleton hit the far stone wall with a sickening splat, practically embedding itself into the ancient masonry. It looked exactly like a squashed bug on a windshield.
Maurise watched the spectacle in utter, exasperated silence. 'What an absolute disaster of a pet.'
The newly resurrected Basilisk was still highly unaccustomed to its heavily modified body and completely lacked any fine motor control over its immense strength.
A few seconds later, Tin peeled itself off the wall and dropped to the floor. The little cat scrambled unsteadily to its feet, shaking a thick layer of dust from its bones. It puffed up fur and hissed viciously at the massive serpent.
The Basilisk visibly cowered, shrinking its colossal head away apologetically.
Maurise sighed and walked over, intending to soothe the ruffled cat. However, as he approached the wall, his eyes narrowed sharply.
At the exact spot where Tin had impacted the stone, a massive, highly visible depression had formed. A dense network of fine, spider-web cracks radiated outward from the crater, and a steady stream of pulverized stone and mortar was actively crumbling to the floor.
The ancient masonry, having endured a millennium of dampness and neglect, was incredibly fragile and severely structurally compromised.
...
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