The interior of the Hogwarts Express was exactly as Maurise had anticipated: a train, remarkably ordinary in every respect.
The corridors were already teeming with students buzzing with adrenaline. Their raucous laughter and shouted conversations penetrated the sliding doors, filling the narrow passageway with a wall of noise.
Maurise had arrived a step too late to secure a private compartment. While he generally preferred solitude, he resigned himself to the reality that he would have to make do with whatever space was left.
Finally, near the middle of the train, he spotted a compartment occupied by only three students.
Inside sat a pale boy with a pointed face and sleek, white-blond hair. Opposite him were two thickset, brutish-looking boys who resembled bodyguards more than students. The blond boy was speaking in a sharp, droning voice, while his two companions nodded along with practiced obedience.
Maurise rapped his knuckles lightly against the glass partition.
The monologue inside ceased instantly. Three pairs of eyes snapped toward the door.
The blond boy looked Maurise up and down, his gaze lingering disdainfully on Maurise's plain, second-hand robes and the black cat cradled in his arms. A small wrinkle of distaste marred his forehead.
"What is it?" the blond boy asked. His tone suggested that Maurise's mere existence was an imposition on his time.
"Excuse me," Maurise said, his voice level and ignoring the palpable atmosphere of exclusion the boy was projecting. "Is there a spare seat in here?"
The blond boy didn't answer immediately. Instead, one of the thickset boys next to him grunted. "We're full," he said roughly, puffing out his chest. "Draco doesn't want to be disturbed."
The boy named Draco lifted his pointed chin, clearly pleased by his henchman's swift defense of his privacy.
"I see. Sorry to intrude," Maurise replied politely.
Since they had made their stance clear, there was no point in forcing the issue. However, just as he turned his heel to leave, his sharpened senses caught a distinct, deliberate clicking of the tongue from inside the compartment.
It was followed by the blond boy's voice, dripping with theatrical mockery. "Tsk... another one who doesn't know the rules. Look at those robes, and that freakish animal. Ten galleons says he's just another Mudblood."
The venom in the word made Maurise pause mid-step.
Mudblood?
It certainly didn't sound like a term of endearment.
'Let it go', he told himself. 'Why bother getting worked up over a child?'
Still, he filed the incident away. Perhaps in the future, if the opportunity arose, he would teach them a small lesson. Rude children, after all, often required a firm hand to guide them back to the path of righteousness.
He shook his head slightly and continued down the corridor.
"Hello. Is there any room in here?"
"Er... if you don't mind the squeeze, come on in."
"Thanks."
This compartment held three boys who were clearly older than him, likely not first years.
Two were redheads, identical twins, indistinguishable from one another. The third was a tall boy with dreadlocks and an easygoing grin.
Maurise left his trunk in the luggage rack outside, hugged his cat, Tin, and took the empty seat beside the boy with dreadlocks.
"So... hello," the boy said, offering a somewhat hesitant greeting.
"Hello," Maurise nodded, keeping his reply concise.
He adjusted his posture, straightening his spine against the seat, and slowly closed his eyes. He slipped almost instantly into a light meditative trance. In his arms, the black cat seemed to absorb the mood; it stretched lazily, curled into a ball, and shut its eyes as well.
For a moment, a peculiar silence descended upon the compartment.
The other three exchanged glances, their faces twisting into expressions of bewildered amusement.
What a strange kid, they seemed to telegraph to one another.
"Ahem." The boy with dreadlocks cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkward atmosphere. He turned sideways, addressing the boy who appeared to be napping. "Are you a first year?"
Maurise opened his eyes immediately.
He had intended to enjoy a quiet ride to Hogwarts, but ignoring a direct question would be rude.
"Yes, I am," Maurise said with a faint, polite smile.
"I'm Lee Jordan," the boy said, relaxing visibly when Maurise responded. For some reason, the new kid had an aura about him that was hard to pin down; an instinctual voice in Lee's head had warned him to be careful.
Lee pointed to the redheaded twins opposite them. "And these two are Fred and George Weasley. We're third years, Gryffindor house."
"I'm Maurise Black. You can just call me Maurise," he introduced himself simply.
"Black?!"
Fred and George shouted the name in perfect unison. It was as if they had both been electrocuted. They sat bolt upright, the casual grins wiped instantly from their faces.
The atmosphere in the carriage pulled tight as a bowstring.
"What's wrong?" Maurise asked, genuinely perplexed.
George stared intently at Maurise, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "Your parents are... the Blacks?"
It wasn't exactly a polite question, but Maurise quickly deduced the issue. There was likely a wizarding family named "Black" that carried a heavy reputation.
"Oh, don't worry about that," Maurise said calmly. "I'm from the Muggle world."
Fred and George exhaled simultaneously, their shoulders slumping back against the upholstery in relief.
"That's a relief," Fred chuckled, his grin returning.
A flicker of curiosity crossed Maurise's silver-gray eyes. "Is there something wrong with the surname Black in the magical world?"
The twins exchanged a look.
"Nothing, don't worry about it," George said, waving his hand dismissively. His tone was light again. "It's just that in the wizarding world, some surnames are... well... a bit unpopular. You know? Like Malfoy..."
The mention of the name seemed to trigger an inside joke, and the two dissolved into snickers. It was a level of telepathic humor only twins seemed to possess.
Maurise didn't understand the joke, but he didn't press for details. It was likely just old pure-blood family drama. He had bought a few history books in Diagon Alley, so he had a vague understanding of the social landscape.
In truth, the origin of Maurise's surname was laughably mundane.
He had grown up in an orphanage. Although he had been conscious from a young age, a child's mind is chaotic, and he couldn't quite recall when his memories truly began.
He did remember a caretaker mentioning how he got his name. It was a lottery.
The staff had written various surnames on scraps of paper and tossed them into an old hat for the nameless children to draw from. Maurise had simply pulled out the slip that said "Black."
It was an uncommon name, perhaps, but it meant nothing to him. It was just a code, a label to distinguish him from the next orphan.
At that moment, Lee Jordan's attention drifted to the black cat resting on Maurise's knees.
He pointed a finger at the animal. "Did you get your cat in Diagon Alley?"
Fred and George also leaned in, their eyes scanning the creature with interest. They had been curious about the cat from the moment Maurise walked in.
It had hollow, staring eyes and radiated a chilly, gloomy aura. That was their first impression of Tin.
The undead cat, sensing it was the topic of conversation, lazily peeled open one eyelid. Its ghostly gaze swept over Lee Jordan, who suddenly felt a distinct shiver crawl down his spine.
"No, I didn't buy him," Maurise shook his head. "I just picked him up. He was a stray."
Lee Jordan pulled a face, looking disappointed.
"Hey, mate," Lee said, adopting the tone of a seasoned expert. "Muggle cats are useless. They're stupid. All they do is eat and sleep. If you want a pet, you should really go to the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. The animals there are clever. Some can even fetch things for you or warn you if danger is coming."
Fred and George nodded in agreement.
"Hmm..." Maurise rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But my cat is actually quite smart. He even does acrobatics."
He picked Tin up and set him on the floor of the compartment. With a perfectly straight face, he issued a command.
"Alright, good cat. Do the splits."
Tin looked up at his master. The cat's eyes were filled with an extremely human, undisguised contempt. He tilted his head slightly, as if silently asking if his master had suffered recent head trauma.
"Useless thing," Maurise tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Maybe I should have brought Cinder instead..."
At the mention of the name "Cinder," Tin stiffened.
Without a second of hesitation, the cat dropped his hind legs and slid into a technically perfect, gymnastic split.
"..."
The three Gryffindors stared, their jaws hitting the floor.