The creature descended beside Maurise with the lightness of a feather, touching the water's surface as if it were solid ground. It made no sound, rippling neither the air nor the lake, and drew no attention from the other boats.
It paced alongside Maurise's small skiff, drifting so close that he could count the vertebrae beneath its sleek, obsidian skin.
"I say, hello there," Maurise ventured softly, unsure if the beast comprehended human speech.
The Thestral turned its gaze upon him. Its eyes were white and pupil-less, possessing a spectral quality that seemed to pierce through his physical form and gaze directly into his soul.
For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, Maurise felt a distinct wave of affection radiating from the skeletal creature. Coincidentally, he found himself harboring a strange fondness for the macabre being as well.
He reached out tentatively, aiming to stroke the creature's snout.
Far from recoiling, the Thestral lowered its head, pressing into his palm. To the touch, it felt like warm leather stretched over smooth bone. It was undeniably alive, a stark contrast to the preserved nature of Tin or Cinder.
Just as Maurise was losing himself in the wonder of the moment, the Thestral ducked its head, scooped him effortlessly from the wooden bench of the boat, and with a practiced flick of its neck, deposited him onto its back.
"Bloody hell!"
Maurise instinctively gripped the ridge of the creature's mane, though he managed to stifle a scream. He sensed no malice in the abduction; it felt more like an eccentric gesture of friendship.
Before he could protest, the Thestral unfurled its vast, bat-like wings and launched them into the sky.
The night wind rushed against his cheeks. He looked down at the flotilla of small boats shrinking beneath them and couldn't suppress a sneeze.
It was, admittedly, a bit nippy up here.
Despite the lack of saddle or stirrups, the flight was remarkably smooth. The beast seemed to be throttling its speed intentionally, allowing Maurise to adjust to the vertigo of high-altitude travel.
Before long, they were soaring at a breathtaking height.
Below them, the Black Lake stretched out like a mirror of dark obsidian, reflecting the scattered diamonds of the cosmos above. The fleet of boats carrying the first years looked like a string of luminescent pearls drifting lazily across the water.
It was... an intoxicating view.
Overcome by the sheer freedom of it, Maurise spread his arms wide and let out a whoop of joy. Beneath him, the Thestral gave a soft, high-pitched shriek in response, seemingly sharing his delight.
"Right then, my darling," Maurise shouted over the wind, leaning forward to speak near the creature's ear. "Let's have a tour, shall we? But do be a dear and get me back within ten minutes. I've got a Sorting to attend."
Meanwhile, the older students were trundling toward the castle in carriages pulled by invisible beasts.
In one such carriage, the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were lounging comfortably.
"Have you lot noticed," Lee Jordan asked, gesturing to the empty seats around them, "that nobody seems keen on sharing a carriage with us?"
Fred leaned back, casually tossing a Sherbet Lemon into the air and catching it in his mouth. "Might have something to do with George setting off those two Dungbombs in the carriage last year."
"That wasn't you?" George countered instantly.
"Was it?" Fred paused, looking genuinely confused.
Lee Jordan sighed. He remembered the incident vividly; it had been dubbed the "Carriage of Doom" for weeks. He wondered, not for the first time, if he ought to find friends with a lower probability of causing explosion-related deafness.
Bored, he stared out the window. The silhouette of Hogwarts castle was looming closer, a majestic pile of turrets and towers against the moonlight.
"Speaking of chaos," Lee said idly, "what do you make of that Maurise Black character?"
"Interesting lad," Fred said without hesitation. "I bet a sickle he ends up in Gryffindor."
"Agreed," George nodded.
Lee Jordan frowned, lost in thought. He was thinking about the boy's strange black cat when he heard a faint, rhythmic tap-tap-tap coming from the window glass.
He turned his head and saw something that his brain refused to process.
"Maur... Maurise?!"
Hearing Lee's strangled gasp, the twins scrambled to the window.
There, hovering impossibly in the air outside their moving carriage, was Maurise's face.
"Blimey!"
The three of them frantically cranked the window down.
Outside, Maurise appeared to be seated on thin air, legs astride an invisible mount, gliding effortlessly alongside their carriage. He offered them a casual wave, as if passing them in a corridor rather than suspended fifty feet above the ground.
Lee Jordan rubbed his eyes violently.
In the blink of an eye, Maurise banked away and vanished into the clouds, leaving them wondering if the Sherbet Lemons had been spiked.
"Am I going mad?" Lee blinked, staring at the empty air. "Did a first year just... float past our window?"
Fred and George exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated shock.
"If that was a hallucination," George said slowly, "then we just shared a very specific mental breakdown."
Fred rested his chin on his hand, a grin spreading across his face. "We definitely need to have a word with Mr. Black later. That boy is full of surprises."
Perhaps because they had enjoyed the detour a little too much, the Thestral was running behind schedule when it finally banked toward the castle. The boats had already docked, and the shore was empty.
Fortunately, from his vantage point, Maurise spotted the lantern light. Hagrid was leading the gaggle of damp students up the stone steps toward the main doors.
It seemed his absence hadn't sparked a manhunt yet.
To avoid a scene, he guided the Thestral to land at the very top of the staircase, in the shadow of the castle walls.
Maurise slid gracefully from the creature's back and patted its neck gratefully. "Cheers for the lift."
The Thestral nudged him affectionately before spreading its wings and melting silently back into the darkness of the grounds.
Maurise straightened his robes and smoothed his wind-blown hair. He found himself in a vast, empty courtyard just outside the entrance hall. Since the slow-moving group of first years hadn't crested the stairs yet, the area was silent.
'Perfect', he thought. 'I'll just slip into the back of the line when they march past.'
However, the universe, and the Deputy Headmistress, had other plans.
"Mr. Black. I do not believe I can pretend to have 'unseen' that particular display."
Maurise froze. He turned slowly toward the voice.
Professor McGonagall was standing in the shadows of the arched entryway, her square spectacles glinting dangerously in the moonlight. She stepped forward, her emerald-green robes rustling, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was the definition of severe.
"Good evening, Professor," Maurise said, offering a bright, innocent smile. "Bit brisk out tonight, isn't it?"
He pulled his collar up, feigning a shiver.
"Do not attempt to change the subject, Mr. Black," McGonagall said, her lips thinning. "Was that... were you riding a Thestral? I can hardly believe Hagrid allowed those creatures to wander so freely."
'So they're called Thestrals', Maurise noted mentally.
He nodded, keeping his tone light. "A very hospitable creature, Professor. It insisted I hop on for a ride. It seemed rude to refuse such a generous offer."
McGonagall's frown deepened. "Mr. Black, I must insist you refrain from such stunts in the future. It is incredibly dangerous. While Thestrals are generally gentle, high-altitude flight for an untrained first year is..."
She stopped as the heavy sound of Hagrid's footsteps and the chatter of nervous eleven-year-olds echoed up the stairs. They were nearly here.
McGonagall straightened her back, composing herself instantly. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial, yet stern whisper.
"We shall discuss this later. For now, get in line. Quickly."