As the new academic term commenced, the class schedule remained largely unchanged.
However, there was one comforting development: Care of Magical Creatures.
Following a prolonged period of psychological adjustment, Hagrid had finally emerged from the dark shadow of his disastrous first lesson. He was no longer subjecting the third-years to the mind-numbing torture of feeding shredded lettuce to lethargic Flobberworms.
The curriculum had officially shifted to the care and handling of Fire-Dwelling Salamanders.
While not exactly an exotic or thrilling creature, they were vastly superior to those slimy, useless worms.
At the very least, Salamanders possessed practical magical applications. Their blood harbored potent regenerative properties and was a vital ingredient in several advanced healing potions.
Following the conclusion of the lesson, Maurise strolled down the corridor, casually twirling a small, thumb-sized glass vial between his fingers. Hagrid had generously provided every student with a valuable sample of Salamander blood.
Speaking of Hagrid's first lesson...
Initially, Draco Malfoy had aggressively demanded that the half-giant face severe administrative consequences—even termination—for the Hippogriff incident. However, over the past few weeks, all of his aggressive campaigning had suddenly ceased.
Furthermore, speaking of Draco Malfoy...
Recently, Maurise had frequently observed the blonde Slytherin repeatedly sneaking into Professor Snape's office during odd hours. He had no idea what specific project the boy was currently occupied with.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Maurise abruptly halted his steps.
Standing a short distance ahead of him in the dimly lit corridor were two familiar figures engaged in a low, intense conversation.
One was Draco Malfoy, currently standing with his back toward Maurise. The other was Professor Snape.
Neither of them had detected his silent approach.
"...I simply do not understand, Professor," Draco was saying, his voice laced with barely suppressed frustration. "I have rigorously practiced the exact wand movements and incantations you instructed countless times, yet why is the output still—"
"Patience, Mr. Malfoy. You must exercise patience," Snape's silken, baritone voice was perfectly level, betraying no emotion. "Advanced dueling proficiency is not a skill one can master through sheer impatience. Your fundamental foundation remains unstable. Attempting to execute advanced combat curses at this stage will only result in catastrophic failure."
'Ah. I comprehend the situation now.'
Draco is receiving specialized, private dueling instruction.
It was a logical development. From the perspective of the Slytherin student body, Snape was undeniably an attentive, protective Head of House. It was only natural he would offer exclusive tutoring to his own students.
Maurise had intended to simply utilize a Disillusionment Charm and bypass them, but he suddenly froze when Draco asked his next question.
"Professor... you are familiar with Maurise Black's magical capabilities. What exactly is his ceiling in a formal duel?"
'Hmm?'
'I am the primary subject of this clandestine discussion?'
Maurise's academic curiosity instantly piqued. He stood perfectly still in the shadows, listening intently.
Snape's dark eyes narrowed sharply, casting a critical, probing stare at Draco. "What exactly are you attempting to achieve, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco straightened his spine, his voice firming with resolve. "I intend to defeat him."
Maurise let out a silent, amused chuckle in the shadows.
'Oh? Is that so, Malfoy?'
'After all this time, you have finally decided you wish to orchestrate another confrontation?'
Hearing Draco's bold declaration, Snape merely offered a slow, almost pitying shake of his head. "Why do you not simply attempt to surpass his academic performance instead?"
Draco's expression instantly froze, his face twisting into a complex look of profound despair.
Surpass him academically? That was a mathematical impossibility!
Maurise Black was an unnatural, terrifying intellectual monster who consistently achieved perfect scores across every single academic discipline.
Could he genuinely achieve that? Absolutely not! In stark contrast, defeating the boy in a formal, unpredictable magical duel actually offered a microscopic sliver of hope...
Well, perhaps not even a sliver. After all, the boy had slaughtered a fully matured Basilisk. He was undeniably a lethal, ruthless individual.
Observing the boy's internal conflict, Snape shook his head once more, his tone returning to its standard coldness. "Mr. Malfoy. While I am willing to instruct you in advanced combat tactics and curses, I cannot guarantee you will secure a victory against him. In reality, no one can offer you that guarantee."
Draco's face flushed with an awkward mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "That isn't what I meant, Professor."
Just as he opened his mouth to elaborate, he suddenly felt a heavy, familiar hand clamp firmly onto his shoulder.
"!"
Draco violently spun around.
Standing directly behind him, offering a brilliant, warm, terrifying smile, was the exact individual they had just been discussing: Maurise Black.
"You—!" Draco's voice cracked violently, pitching into a panicked squeak. "What on earth are you doing here?!"
"I was merely passing through," Maurise's smile widened.
Draco's pale face began to twist into a mask of sheer horror.
"Did you... did you overhear everything?!"
"Indeed I did," Maurise nodded smoothly, his demeanor calm and unbothered. "You were engaged in an audible conversation in the center of a public corridor, were you not? However, I do not consider your ambition to be a classified or shameful topic."
He paused, adding with an encouraging tone, "Desiring to defeat me is a valid, commendable goal. Possessing ambition is an excellent trait. I officially welcome your formal challenge at any given time, Malfoy."
Draco was speechless. He had no idea how to formulate a logical response.
However, one thing was certain: he profoundly despised the boy's calm, arrogant, unbothered attitude.
It was exactly as if Maurise didn't consider him to be a genuine threat.
Maurise briefly glanced at Snape, who had remained silent during the exchange. The corner of Maurise's mouth curled upward as he turned his attention back to Draco.
"However," Maurise continued smoothly. "If you intend to formally challenge me, you must logically prepare yourself for the certainty of defeat. Furthermore, you must be prepared to face the severe consequences of your actions."
Draco visibly flinched. "What... what consequences?"
"I haven't decided yet. Ge-ge-ge."
Maurise suddenly let out a bizarre, ominous, cackling laugh.
A violent shiver of primal terror raced down Draco's spine.
Simultaneously, the corner of Snape's mouth twitched.
"Do not push the boundaries, Black," Snape drawled softly, his tone icy. "I possess no interest in moderating your petty, juvenile personal grievances. Mr. Malfoy Ensure you arrive at my office tomorrow at exactly noon."
Without another word, Snape spun on his heel and swept down the corridor, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him. His footsteps quickly faded, leaving the two boys alone.
The corridor plunged into a tense, suffocating silence.
Draco stared at Maurise, silently reaffirming his resolve.
Yes, the boy's magical output was terrifying. However, all of his recent, intense training under Snape couldn't possibly be for nothing.
Furthermore, Maurise undoubtedly possessed a specific, exploitable tactical weakness.
For instance... Dark Magic. As long as he successfully mastered the lethal, classified Dark Arts artifacts he had smuggled from Malfoy Manor, he was certain he could catch the boy off guard and secure a decisive victory...
"Well then," Maurise casually shrugged, breaking the silence. "If you desire a formal duel, I am perfectly willing to accommodate you at your earliest convenience. However, if you attempt to orchestrate a cowardly, covert ambush behind my back... hmm... I shall simply order my Basilisk to tear off your arm."
All the color instantly drained from Draco's face. "Your... your Basilisk?! I thought you slaughtered the beast last year!"
Maurise blinked innocently. "I utilized advanced necromancy to resurrect it. Anyway, I shall see you around. Farewell."
With a cheerful wave, Maurise turned and strolled leisurely down the corridor.
Draco remained rooted to the spot, his brain short-circuiting in sheer horror for a very long time.
Having terrorized Draco Malfoy, Maurise's mood was excellent.
Upon returning to his dormitory, he locked the door and activated his spatial portal, stepping directly into the Void dimension for a relaxing, solitary stroll.
The Void remained exactly as it always was: desolate, silent, and choked with dense white fog.
As Maurise strolled slowly across the endless, barren wasteland, his mind felt peaceful and calm.
This time, he didn't halt to condense any potent magical energy crystals. He simply picked a random direction and began walking steadily forward.
Observing his surroundings, Maurise couldn't help but feel a profound sense of awe.
Regardless of how frequently he visited, this specific dimension always felt mysterious and deeply terrifying.
According to Grindelwald, this was the mandatory transit route for every single deceased soul.
'Perhaps, at this exact moment, an invisible soul is drifting directly past me.' It was a profound... moving thought.
Gradually, a significant amount of time elapsed, yet Maurise continued his steady pace.
His surroundings remained completely devoid of any physical landmarks. When he turned his head to check his trajectory, Hogwarts Castle had long since vanished into the dense white fog.
'If Grindelwald's historical intelligence is accurate, there is a specific, physical gateway located somewhere within this wasteland leading directly into the Underworld.' He honestly had no idea where the coordinates for such a gateway might be located.
'Does the Underworld exist as a physical dimension?'
Maurise suddenly halted his steps. He closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them a fraction of a second later, he was standing safely back inside his Ravenclaw dormitory.
The magical energy powering the spatial portal had depleted.
He let out a heavy sigh.
He needed to engineer a viable methodology to extend the portal's operational duration.