Maurise possessed an internal clock that rendered alarm clocks entirely obsolete. He woke with the sun, his mind instantly clear and alert.
After a quick wash, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely six in the morning. Breakfast at the Great Hall didn't start until half-past seven, which meant he had a luxurious amount of time to kill.
Tin, his cat, was nowhere to be seen. The window was slightly ajar, suggesting the feline had already embarked on a morning patrol of the castle grounds. Maurise wasn't worried. While Tin was mischievous and possessed a chaotic spirit, the cat was also sharply intelligent; he would find his way back when he got hungry.
So, what does one do on their first proper morning at Hogwarts?
'The Grimoire', he thought.
Responding to his mental command, the Grimoire of Magi materialized within the landscape of his mind. He routinely checked its contents, expecting the usual, but today the pages shuffled themselves to reveal a fresh chapter.
The Door Between Worlds.
The name itself felt odd, vibrating with an unsettling resonance. It sounded less like a spell and more like a tear in the fabric of reality.
The description was brief, consisting of a single line:
Allows entry into the fissure between life and death.
Beneath the text lay a complex magical diagram. It bore a passing resemblance to the transmutation circles used for creating undead constructs, yet the runes anchored in the center were fundamentally alien. However, it was the warning footnote that caught Maurise's eye, causing his brow to furrow.
Warning: The Door Between Worlds must be activated while the caster is in a state of death.
Maurise stared at the mental image. In a state of death? Well, that was hardly ideal.
He was a Necromancer, a scholar of the dead, not a volunteer to join their ranks. He had no intention of giving up the ghost this early in his second life. It reminded him of the advice the ghost had given him just yesterday: even if one has to die, one should at least choose a romantic way to go.
Dying for the sake of magical research?
"Not happening," Maurise muttered aloud, shaking his head as if that might physically dislodge the thought.
It seemed this particular spell would have to remain theoretical for the foreseeable future. He sighed softly. Still, the curiosity lingered, scratching at the back of his mind like a persistent itch. What did the gap between life and death actually look like?
Forcing the question aside, Maurise composed himself. He sat cross-legged on the four-poster bed and began his daily meditation. He had recently discovered that these sessions didn't just improve his control over curses; they also sharpened his affinity for standard Hogwarts magic. It was the quiet secret behind his rapid mastery of Transfiguration.
An hour later, Maurise opened his eyes. The trance had swept away the last traces of morning fog. Outside the window, the sun had fully risen, painting the silhouette of the Forbidden Forest in hues of gold and amber.
He donned his robes, deciding to explore the castle architecture before facing the porridge.
Upon opening his dormitory door, he was greeted by a surprise. A pearlescent, translucent figure drifted through the hallway. It was a ghost, a tall woman with waist-length hair.
"Good morning," Maurise said politely.
The Grey Lady merely glanced at him with a look of profound melancholy, said nothing, and sank silently through the floorboards.
"Charming conversation," Maurise murmured.
He descended the spiral stairs into the Ravenclaw common room. It was mostly quiet, bathed in cool morning light. The only occupants were Robert Hilliard, the fifth-year Prefect, and another older student. They were huddled by the arched windows, wands drawn, whispering intensely.
Maurise's sharp ears caught fragments of their conversation. Words like "dark arts," "nasty jinx," and "curse recoil" drifted through the air.
Sensing eyes on him, Robert snapped his head up. The tension on his face vanished, replaced by a practiced smile. "Maurise! Sleep well?"
"Hogwarts beds are more comfortable than I expected," Maurise replied, walking closer. "What are you discussing so early?"
"Last year's O.W.L. exams," Robert replied smoothly, sliding his wand up his sleeve. "Didn't get Outstanding in everything. Bit of a sore spot. We were just saying how nice it would be to take them again."
Maurise detected the lie immediately. The air of conspiracy was thick. Still, he nodded solemnly. "Exams are important."
He had no interest in probing into upper-year secrets, especially when their idea of revision sounded suspiciously illegal.
The other student nudged Robert. "Library. All the good tables will be gone."
"Right," Robert agreed quickly. "See you later, Maurise."
"See you."
Leaving them behind, Maurise exited the Ravenclaw tower and headed toward the Grand Staircase.
Yesterday, with Robert guiding the first-years, the stairs had seemed merely grand. Alone, Maurise quickly realized the castle was actively trying to irritate him. The marble staircases shifted with a will of their own.
One staircase that clearly led to the first floor swung ninety degrees just as he approached. Another rotated lazily in a useless circle. A third featured a trick step that vanished the moment a portrait glanced at it.
"Architectural trolling," Maurise concluded.
His plan to explore the castle dissolved rapidly. He would spend half the morning waiting for stone to behave.
As he lifted his foot toward a floating staircase, a voice called from behind.
"If I were you, I wouldn't take that one. It leads to the third-floor corridor on the right, which is forbidden. The one that actually goes to the first floor is on your right."
Maurise paused, withdrew his foot, and turned. "Oh. Thank you, Hermione."
Hermione Granger stood nearby, clutching a thick book to her chest like a shield. She frowned at the shifting staircases with fierce concentration. "They move constantly. You should memorize the patterns. There's a mathematical algorithm to it. Observation is the key."
"That's excellent advice," Maurise said. "Have you memorized them already?"
"Most of them," Hermione replied, lifting her chin.
"That's genuinely impressive."
Her expression softened into a smile.
"So, have you had breakfast?" Maurise asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied, adjusting her grip on the book. "I'm heading straight to Charms. I want a front-row seat. I've read the textbook, but reading isn't the same as doing."
"I can imagine."
Maurise turned back toward the staircase she had indicated, only to find it gone.
"That one operates on a loop," Hermione said. "Wait thirty seconds."
Maurise sighed and waited.
At that moment, a nearby spiral staircase ground to a halt, depositing three girls onto the landing. Red-trimmed robes marked them as Gryffindor first-years.
"Did you really see the singing portrait?"
"Yes, and the knight bowed to me…"
Their chatter was bright and infectious.
Maurise watched them with quiet nostalgia, acutely aware of the weary adult soul beneath his young face.
As they passed, Hermione stepped forward, smiling brightly. "Hello!"
The girls paused for a fraction of a second, gave a stiff nod, and hurried past without a word. Their giggling resumed once they were gone.
Hermione's smile faltered, then slowly faded.