Even during the following day's tedious Divination lecture, Maurise's mind was occupied with calculating complex runic equations to extend the operational duration of his spatial portal.
The Gate Between the Worlds was one of the first advanced magical disciplines he had mastered.
He was no longer the inexperienced novice he had been back then. His fundamental comprehension of magical theory, spatial geometry, and energy manipulation had deepened.
Logically, there were exactly two viable methodologies to increase the portal's duration: either increase the total volume of magical energy channeled into the matrix, or optimize the structural efficiency to decrease the baseline energy consumption rate.
Evidently, the former option was easier to implement...
"Mr. Black?"
Professor Trelawney's breathy voice interrupted his calculations. "Have you successfully interpreted the dregs in your teacup?"
Maurise snapped back to reality and glanced down at the soggy porcelain cup resting in his saucer.
"What has the cosmos revealed to you?" Trelawney asked, her voice laced with mystical anticipation.
"Perhaps... a vaguely star-shaped cluster?" Maurise offered an uncertain response.
The designated curriculum for today's lecture was Tessomancy—the subjective, unreliable art of interpreting the shape of tea leaves left at the bottom of a cup to supposedly predict future events.
While Maurise acknowledged that genuine Divination possessed practical applications, after suffering through numerous lectures, he still failed to grasp the mechanics.
In all honesty, he suspected Professor Trelawney's pedagogical methodology was flawed and based largely on theatricality.
"Excellent. A star," Trelawney nodded softly, placing a heavily ringed hand onto Maurise's shoulder. "But do you comprehend what the star symbolizes in the grand cosmic tapestry?"
Maurise shook his head firmly.
"Allow me to gaze into the depths. I shall interpret the cosmic will for you," Trelawney leaned close, her massive spectacles nearly dipping into the porcelain cup.
"Ah—!"
Her expression suddenly twisted into a mask of terror. "It is the Star of Doom!"
Maurise frowned in annoyance.
'This particular Professor possesses an irritating, morbid obsession with steering every interpretation toward catastrophic outcomes.'
Experiencing it once or twice was somewhat novel.
However, repeating the exact same theatrical performance every lecture only served to cement her reputation as a fraud.
For instance, looking around the classroom at this moment, the majority of the students remained apathetic to her terrified scream.
They had likely all classified Trelawney as an entertaining, delusional charlatan.
Maurise firmly believed that if Trelawney were to announce, "I am selling specialized, protective cosmic amulets for ten Galleons a piece," it wouldn't feel out of character for the setting.
Right on cue, the bell signaling the end of the lecture chimed.
"Exercise caution, my dear boy. May the cosmos protect you," Trelawney whispered to Maurise before straightening up and announcing briskly, "Class dismissed."
'Evidently, even a 'true Seer' possesses zero desire to work uncompensated overtime.'
The students eagerly stood up and began packing their disorganized textbooks and teacups.
Maurise deliberately waited until he was the last individual remaining in the classroom. Before departing, he strolled over to the cluttered shelf against the far wall and cast a glance at Trelawney's ancestral crystal ball.
It had become an ingrained habit to inspect the artifact every time he attended the class.
Trelawney possessed no objections to his behavior; in fact, she seemed to encourage his persistent attempts to unlock his 'Inner Eye'.
Unfortunately, like every previous attempt, the massive crystal sphere remained inert.
Maurise shook his head, feeling a familiar sense of disappointment.
Just as he turned on his heel to exit the classroom, Trelawney's voice echoed from the front of the room.
"Beware... you must beware..."
The voice was unsettling, devoid of her usual, theatrical breathiness.
Maurise halted his steps and slowly turned his head.
Trelawney was standing behind the small, cluttered table he had just occupied. Both of her hands were planted onto the wooden surface. She was leaning forward, her head bowed low, her body trembling. A sheen of cold sweat was visible on her forehead.
'Is she initiating another fake performance?' Maurise thought cynically.
In order to maintain her fragile reputation as a genuine Seer, Trelawney frequently resorted to fabricated prophetic trances.
However, a fraction of a second later, Trelawney's voice altered.
It became harsh, hoarse, and resonant. It sounded as if the voice was echoing from an unfathomable distance.
It did not sound like a voice a human throat was biologically capable of producing.
Maurise's expression became serious.
He detected a unique fluctuation of magical energy radiating from her physical form. It was a frequency distinct from any standard magical signature he had encountered.
"...you must beware. You shall inevitably engage in a violent, catastrophic confrontation against a powerful adversary. More powerful than any enemy you have conceptualized. More dangerous than any threat you have encountered. The confrontation shall occur at..."
Trelawney's hoarse voice began to fade, trailing off into a whisper.
"Occur where?" Maurise pressed, taking a step forward.
Trelawney offered no response.
She slowly raised her head, blinking her eyes in confusion. Her gaze locked onto Maurise, and her voice reverted to its standard, breathy tone. "Mr. Black? Why are you still loitering in the classroom? The bell dismissed you several minutes ago."
Maurise stared at her, at a loss for words.
'It was evident Trelawney had slipped into an authentic prophetic trance and delivered a legitimate prophecy.'
'However, why did the cosmic transmission terminate before revealing the most critical intelligence?!'
Just as Maurise opened his mouth to interrogate her regarding the missing information, Trelawney preempted him.
"I am exhausted, Mr. Black," she sighed, pressing a hand against her forehead. "The toll of opening the Inner Eye is high. I require uninterrupted rest..."
She collapsed into her high-backed armchair, closed her eyes, and within seconds, began emitting steady snores.
'She fell asleep.'
"..."
'Delivering half of a critical prophecy and immediately slipping into a coma is irresponsible.'
Maurise let out an exasperated sigh, turned on his heel, and exited the classroom.
Even if he managed to wake her, he was certain he couldn't extract any useful information. She possessed no conscious memory of her genuine prophecies.
Returning to the privacy of his dormitory, Maurise sat at his desk, his expression complex as he reviewed the half-finished prophecy.
'Why do I possess the irritating feeling that this prophecy provided zero actionable intelligence?'
"You shall inevitably engage in a violent, catastrophic confrontation against a powerful adversary."
That generic statement could be applied to anyone operating within a hostile environment.
The only fragment of valuable tactical intelligence was the final, unfinished preposition: "The confrontation shall occur at..."
Yet, that was the specific detail the cosmic transmission had failed to deliver.
'The divinatory arts are unstable and unreliable.'
Maurise felt an intense academic curiosity regarding the mechanics of prophecy.
Perhaps he could consult a more competent Seer for an explanation?
He had witnessed Trelawney's baseline level of competence; she was unreliable.
Following a brief moment of calculation, a name popped into his mind.
'Gellert Grindelwald.'
'Indeed. Grindelwald is an accessible, confirmed, master-class Seer.'
Perhaps the former Dark Lord possessed the capability to complete the fragmented prophecy.
'However, returning to Nurmengard immediately is inadvisable.'
Given his undetected infiltration mere weeks ago, it was certain the fortress was operating under maximum-security lockdown protocols.
Maurise decided it was prudent to delay his second visitation.
For the remainder of the month, Maurise dedicated his focus to researching and upgrading the Gate Between the Worlds spatial matrix.
Two weeks later.
Late at night, inside his secure dormitory.
Pale moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the room.
Maurise stood in the center of the floorboards, looking down at the glowing runic matrix etched into the wood. A satisfied smile crossed his face.
Two weeks of intense research had finally yielded results.
While the geometric structure of the matrix remained identical to the original version, the methodology he utilized to compress and channel the magical energy was superior.
The operational duration of the spatial portal had been extended by a factor of five.
Naturally, if he desired to maintain the portal indefinitely, it was possible. However, doing so would require consuming a massive quantity of volatile Void energy crystals, and the resulting spatial tunnel would become unstable and dangerous.
Maurise stepped into the center of the glowing matrix, closed his eyes, and suppressed his life signs, entering a state of suspended animation.
In the next fraction of a second, his consciousness transitioned into the Void dimension.
His objective for this expedition was singular: he intended to locate the geographical coordinates of the gateway leading to the Underworld that Grindelwald had described.
He was curious to observe what the realm of the dead truly looked like.
Maurise exited the desolate manifestation of Hogwarts Castle and began marching in a straight line, heading away from the front gates.
Because of the upgraded portal duration, he was capable of traveling a vaster distance than any previous expedition.
Maurise hiked across the gray, desolate wasteland as time slowly ticked by.
"Is the distance really this vast?"
However, despite walking for what felt like hours, his eyes failed to detect a single alteration in the foggy landscape. It remained identical.