"As long as you understand my position," Maurise nodded, shifting his gaze to the half-giant towering over him. "Now... how do we resolve this mess?"
In truth, Maurise had no desire to make enemies. He prided himself on being a reasonable wizard, provided, of course, that the other party was willing to be reasonable in return. Bane's obstinance had forced his hand. It was self-defense, pure and simple. That didn't make Maurise a warmonger.
Why couldn't everyone just get along?
Unfortunately, the centaur named Bane had absorbed enough curses to keep him bedridden for a week.
Hagrid scratched his massive, bushy head, looking thoroughly conflicted. "I'll... I'll talk to Firenze an' the others. Explain things. Most centaurs are decent folk, Maurise. Bane... he's just a bit prickly. Don't judge 'em all by him, eh?"
"I'll try not to," Maurise replied smoothly. "But I really must be going."
He turned on his heel, aiming for the direction of the castle. Although the edge of the Forbidden Forest was some distance away, he was fairly confident he could retrace his steps.
"Wait!" Hagrid called out, his voice booming through the trees. "Aren't yeh comin' with me to the herd?"
Maurise paused. He glanced back at Bane, who was currently drooling into the moss, and gave a pragmatic shrug.
"I think I'll pass, Hagrid. Given this gentleman's attitude, walking into a camp full of his friends seems like a poor survival strategy. Please, offer them my explanations and my regrets. Don't worry about me. Goodbye."
Before Hagrid could protest further, Maurise was already walking briskly away, vanishing into the undergrowth.
Hagrid watched the boy disappear and heaved a heavy sigh. Strictly speaking, he should have escorted the student back to safety. However, he couldn't leave the unconscious Bane alone in the Forbidden Forest. There were things in these woods that would view a comatose horse-man as a free buffet.
He tugged at his beard, distressed, but decided Bane was the immediate priority. Besides, considering Maurise had just single-handedly incapacitated a centaur, the boy was clearly capable of handling himself.
"First years these days..." Hagrid muttered, shaking his head. "Scary lot."
With a grunt of exertion, he hoisted Bane's heavy equine body onto his shoulders. Now came the hard part: explaining to a herd of star-gazing warriors why a Hogwarts student had left one of their best fighters face-down in the dirt.
Meanwhile, Maurise was making his way through the gloom of the ancient woods.
After twenty minutes of confident walking, he was forced to confront a reality he really didn't want to admit.
He was lost.
Despite telling Hagrid he remembered the way, the twisting roots and identical-looking trees had conspired against him. After taking two confident turns at a fork in the path, he had arrived in a part of the forest that looked decidedly unfamiliar.
"Well, this is inconvenient..."
Maurise glanced up through the canopy. The sun was nearing its zenith. He had Herbology this afternoon, and Professor Sprout was not fond of tardiness.
Just then, movement in the shadow of a massive boulder caught his eye.
He froze, his hand drifting to his wand. Something was scuttling there.
As he crept closer, the shape resolved itself. It was a spider. Not a common garden spider, but a monstrosity with a torso the size of a beach ball and legs spanning several feet.
An Acromantula? Maurise recalled Hagrid mentioning them.
He observed the creature. Eight milky eyes, pincers clicking softly, hairy exoskeleton. It was biologically fascinating. It would make an excellent specimen for study.
"Debilitare!"
"Ululare!"
Two curses flashed from his wand in rapid succession.
The Weaken Curse and the Wailing Curse hit the arachnid squarely. The spider didn't even have time to screech; its legs buckled, its strength evaporated, and its nervous system was overwhelmed by the psychic shock of the second spell. It collapsed into a twitching, unconscious heap.
Maurise noted the results with clinical satisfaction. The combination was surprisingly potent. The Weaken Curse sapped physical vitality, while the Wailing Curse assaulted the mind. Together, they acted like a bludgeon, resulting in an immediate coma.
Super effective.
He approached the creature cautiously, prodding its hairy abdomen with his wand. No reaction.
"Excellent."
With a flick of his wrist, he targeted a rotting log nearby. Under the influence of his Transfiguration, the wood warped and reshaped itself, knitting together until it formed a rough but sturdy wooden crate. He levitated the slumbering spider inside, sealed the lid, and cast a Feather-Light Charm on the box.
He could examine it properly once he was back in the safety of the castle.
Now, he just had to find the castle.
Checking the sun's position again, Maurise adjusted his course. He couldn't stay lost forever.
Suddenly, a distinct, leathery flapping sound echoed from above.
Maurise looked up. A black silhouette was descending from the patch of blue sky visible through the trees. As it drew closer, the skeletal form became clear. A Thestral folded its bat-like wings and touched down gracefully in front of him.
The skeletal horse nudged his hand affectionately.
"Oh, it's you," Maurise murmured, a genuine smile touching his lips.
He recognized the creature immediately. It was the same Thestral that had carried him the previous day.
"Have you been following me?" He stroked its beak, then swung himself onto its bony back. "I could use a lift to Hogwarts. Would you mind?"
The Thestral gave a soft, eerie shriek, spread its vast wings, trotted a few steps, and launched them into the air.
The wind rushed past his ears. As they broke through the canopy, the oppressive gloom of the forest gave way to blinding sunlight and endless blue. Looking down at the sprawling green ocean of the Forbidden Forest, Maurise felt a rare sense of peace.
Riding a winged horse that most people couldn't even see, it was absurd, really. But it was in moments like these that the separation between the Muggle world and the Wizarding world felt most profound. This was magic.
The Thestral was fast. In less than two minutes, the grey towers of Hogwarts loomed ahead.
Maurise guided the creature down toward a secluded courtyard near the Great Hall. He scanned the area first. No students in sight.
He slid off the creature's back.
"Off you go, then." He patted the Thestral's flank. The beast lingered for a moment, nuzzling his palm, before leaping back into the sky.
Maurise watched it vanish, then turned to enter the castle, feeling quite pleased with his stealthy arrival. If Professor McGonagall had seen him...
"Meow."
Maurise froze.
From behind a stone pillar, a cat stepped out. It wasn't just any cat. It was a tabby with distinct markings around its eyes that looked suspiciously like square spectacles. It stared at him with an unblinking, severe intelligence.
You have to be joking.
The cat's form blurred, stretching and shifting. Fur retreated into tartan robes.
In seconds, Professor McGonagall stood before him, looking tall, severe, and distinctly unamused.
"Mr. Black," she said, her voice crisp. "I am afraid I cannot pretend I did not see that."
Maurise blinked. He felt a sense of déjà vu. Hadn't they had a conversation like this yesterday?
He offered a polite, somewhat sheepish smile. "My apologies, Professor. I simply find Thestrals to be a very efficient mode of transport."
He watched her expression carefully, looking for a crack in the armor. "Besides," he added, adopting an innocent tone, "I've been reviewing the school rules, and I couldn't help but notice there isn't actually a specific prohibition against riding Thestrals."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "And have you actually read the entire school charter, Mr. Black?"
"Er... well, not cover-to-cover," Maurise admitted, his confidence dipping slightly.
But he was willing to bet on the bureaucracy. Who would think to ban riding invisible horses?
McGonagall let out a long, suffering sigh. To Maurise's surprise, her expression softened just a fraction.
"You are technically correct, Mr. Black. The rules do not explicitly forbid riding Thestrals, largely because most students cannot see them, let alone ride them. Therefore, I will not deduct points."
Maurise brightened.
"However," she continued, her voice hardening, "I must insist you understand the risks. It is dangerous, and it sets a precarious example. Please, for your own safety, do not make a habit of this."
Maurise nodded vigorously, the picture of obedience. "Understood, Professor. It won't happen again."
She eyed him for a moment longer, then nodded and turned to leave.
Maurise watched her go, clutching his shrunken box containing a giant spider in his pocket. No detention. No points lost.
Professor McGonagall really was a wonderfully reasonable woman.