Watching Maurise repeatedly prod his finger in and out of the ghost's spectral ribcage, Cho Chang finally couldn't take it anymore. She tugged sharply on his sleeve.
"Pack it in! You can't just go around poking ghosts like that."
Maurise retracted his hand, looking genuinely perplexed. "Why not? Sir Nicholas doesn't appear to be offended."
"It isn't about him being offended," Cho hissed, lowering her voice. "It's bad for you. Everyone knows that walking through a ghost gives you a shock of cold, but prolonging contact? It drains you. There was a rumor last year about a Hufflepuff who fell asleep near the Bloody Baron and spent a week in the Hospital Wing shivering under ten blankets."
"Right. Thanks for the tip," Maurise said, though he looked more intrigued than frightened.
Nearly Headless Nick floated a few inches higher, adjusting his ruff with a dignified air. "The young lady is quite correct. While we certainly don't mean to be hazardous to your health, we residents of the other side aren't exactly designed for cuddling. A brief passage is fine, but do try to keep your hands to yourself, dear boy."
In reality, Maurise hadn't felt drained at all. The sensation was less like a health hazard and more like dipping his hand into a bucket of dry ice. It was a crisp, biting chill that he found strangely clarifying. He was fairly certain a ghost couldn't actually harm him.
Still, when someone offers well-meaning advice, it is usually polite to take it.
Nearly Headless Nick drifted back toward the center of the Gryffindor table to entertain a group of gawking first-years, bringing Maurise's first experiment with the ghost to a close.
The feast concluded in typical Dumbledore fashion: a few cryptic words that left everyone confused, followed by a rendition of the school song that sounded like a choir of dying cats. Finally, the food vanished from the golden plates, and it was time for bed.
The first-years were herded together by their Prefects. The Ravenclaw Prefect was a lanky boy with a badge polished to a mirror shine, though Maurise hadn't caught his name yet.
As the line of students shuffled out of the Great Hall, Maurise's mind replayed the Headmaster's closing announcement.
"...and finally, I must tell you that anyone who does not wish to suffer a most painful death should not enter the corridor on the fourth floor, on the right-hand side."
"Painful death." It was a marvelously specific threat for a school full of children. It felt less like a safety warning and more like reverse psychology. Dumbledore was practically begging someone to go look.
Even Maurise, who prided himself on his caution, felt a twitch of curiosity.
He quickly stamped the feeling out. Investigating forbidden corridors on the first night was a surefire way to lose House points, or worse, get expelled. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion the trap was baited for someone else. Harry Potter was in the castle, after all. Trouble usually gravitated toward the Boy Who Lived. Unless Maurise had prepared a comprehensive risk assessment and a backup plan, staying away was the only logical move.
Following the Prefect, the Ravenclaws broke off from the noisy Gryffindors. They climbed the marble staircase, navigated a series of shifting corridors, and began the long ascent up a tight, winding spiral staircase.
Finally, they arrived at a door without a handle or a keyhole: just a smooth expanse of aged wood and a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw Tower," the Prefect said, turning to face the breathless first-years. "I am Robert Hilliard. Now, pay attention. Unlike the other houses, we do not hide behind passwords that can be stolen or forgotten."
Robert gestured grandly to the eagle knocker. "Our door demands proof of wit. You must answer a riddle. If you answer correctly, you may enter. If you get it wrong..." He smirked. "Well, you'd best hope a friend comes along who is smarter than you are."
A ripple of nervous energy went through the group.
Maurise studied the mechanism. It was an elegant security system, perfectly on brand for the house of the wise. Though he had to admit, getting locked out of your bedroom because you couldn't solve a logic puzzle at two in the morning sounded like a nightmare.
Robert reached out and tapped the bronze eagle.
The bird's beak opened, and a musical voice drifted out. "What is it that becomes larger the more you take away from it?"
"Observe," Robert said to the first-years, looking smug. "A classic lateral thinking problem. Does anyone want to hazard a guess?"
Silence reigned for a moment before a small girl near the front squeaked, "A hole?"
"Precisely," said the eagle.
The door swung open.
"Well done," Robert said, ushering them inside. "Welcome home."
Maurise stepped through the archway and immediately felt the atmosphere shift. The Ravenclaw Common Room was spectacular. It was a wide, circular room, airier than any other room in the castle. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, hung with blue and bronze silks. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which seemed to echo the midnight sky outside.
Everything whispered of study and contemplation. There were tables for homework, piles of books left on window seats, and a white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw looking down on them with an intimidatingly intelligent expression.
"Dormitories are up the stairs," Robert announced, pointing to the alcoves. "Girls on the left, boys on the right. Your trunks have already been brought up. I'll have the room assignments in a moment."
"Go on, mingle a bit," he added, waving them off.
The students dispersed, chattering excitedly about the view. Maurise, seeking a moment of peace, drifted toward a plush blue armchair near the fireplace. A book had been left on the side table, perhaps forgotten by an older student.
'Excellent, he thought', sinking into the chair. 'Let's see what the intellectual elite of Hogwarts are reading.'
He picked up the volume. The cover was bright pink, contrasting horribly with the dignified room.
The title read: 'Hexes for Heartthrobs: A Guide to Wooing Wizards.'
Maurise stared at it. He flipped it over to read the blurb.
'Is he looking at you, or just at his potion ingredients? Make sure he knows you're the most magical thing in the room with these twelve borderline-legal charms!'
"..."
Maurise carefully placed the book back on the table, exactly where he found it, and wiped his hand on his robe.
Perhaps he had overestimated the maturity of his housemates. The Common Room was clearly a more dangerous place than he had anticipated.
Three minutes later, Robert Hilliard clapped his hands for attention.
"Right, listen up! First-year boys, over here."
Maurise joined the small cluster of boys. There were only five of them.
Robert checked a roll of parchment, frowning slightly. "Okay, we have a slight logistical hiccup. The boys' dorms are designed for four students. Since there are five of you, we have an odd man out."
He looked up. "The fifth student will have to take the small spare room at the end of the hall. It's a single. Who wants it?"
The other boys exchanged uneasy glances. For an eleven-year-old on their first night away from home, the idea of sleeping alone in a drafty stone tower was terrifying.
"Any takers?" Robert asked, sounding impatient. "It's got a nice window."
Maurise's hand shot up.
At the exact same moment, another hand went up. It belonged to a boy with messy black hair and a confident grin.
Robert sighed. "Right. Two volunteers. Maurise Black and... Kyle Chesterfield."
He looked between them. "We can't split the room in half. Since you both want the privacy..."
"Duel for it!"
The shout came from an older student lounging on a sofa nearby, causing several people to laugh.
"Ignore Cyril, he's an idiot," Robert said, rolling his eyes. He turned back to Maurise and Kyle. "We don't duel. We're Ravenclaws. We settle things with our heads."
Robert's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "Since you both want the room, we shall have a competition."