Tuesday.
It was Maurise's third day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The first class on the morning schedule was History of Magic.
This was the subject Maurise was anticipating the most. It was not because he harbored a deep, burning passion for historical dates or goblin rebellions. Rather, it was because of the rumors regarding the instructor.
Cuthbert Binns. Professor Binns.
A bona fide ghost.
For someone like Maurise, who possessed a borderline obsession with the spectral and the undead, this was an irresistible draw.
Immediately after breakfast, he made a beeline for the History of Magic classroom. He was determined to catch a glimpse of the legendary educator who had supposedly been teaching since the school's founding and had not let a little thing like death stop him.
The classroom was cavernous, large enough to accommodate students from all four houses simultaneously. However, due to Maurise's excessive punctuality, the room was currently empty. Professor Binns had yet to manifest.
With a shrug, Maurise chose a seat near the front. He arranged his notebook and textbook with military precision and settled in to wait.
The course textbook was a tome titled A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot. It was terrifyingly thick. Rumor had it that the book covered every significant magical event from antiquity up to the twentieth century.
Maurise had already skimmed through the entire thing during the summer holidays. He had to admit that while the content was incredibly detailed and comprehensive, it was also dry enough to parch one's throat just by looking at it.
Bored with the waiting game, Maurise idly flipped through a few pages before closing his eyes to meditate. He was well versed in the practice, capable of slipping into a tranquil state almost anywhere. As his breathing leveled out, his consciousness began to sink inward, sliding into a mental landscape as still as a frozen lake.
It was an addictive sensation.
"Hello... Hello?"
Maurise had no idea how much time had passed when he felt a sharp rapping on his desk.
He slowly opened his eyes to find a familiar, bushy haired face looming over him.
"Is something the matter, Hermione?"
Hermione dropped her massive textbook onto the desk next to his with a heavy thud. Her brow was furrowed in annoyance. "I called your name several times. Why didn't you answer?"
Maurise did not feel like explaining the intricacies of deep meditation to an eleven year old. "I fell asleep. My apologies," he replied casually.
Hermione stared at him, at a loss for words.
She had been watching him for a moment before she spoke. Even with his eyes closed, he had been sitting bolt upright, radiating a strange, eerie stillness. That certainly did not look like napping.
She eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds but eventually decided not to press the issue. He had ignored her the first time they met in the pet shop in Diagon Alley, too. While it was terribly rude, perhaps that was just his personality.
"Anyway, why are you here so early?" Hermione sat down in the seat beside him, pivoting to conversation. "I thought I was early. I wanted to secure a prime seat and review the chapter on the Goblin Rebellions of the eighteenth century one last time."
"Same reason," Maurise answered briefly.
He glanced around. The room was still empty save for the two of them. They had nearly half an hour before the bell.
"So, have you actually read A History of Magic yet?" Hermione asked, her eyes lighting up with academic fervor. "I finished my first read through over the summer, and now I'm making a second set of notes. The perspective on the International Statute of Secrecy in the later chapters is fascinating. It's completely different from the focus in Modern Magical History and..."
"..."
Maurise watched Hermione as she launched into a breathless monologue about magical statutes. He felt a distinct sense of incongruity.
Was this really what an eleven year old girl talked about?
Girls her age were supposed to be discussing dolls, sweets, or playground gossip.
It crossed his mind that perhaps she was like him. A soul far older than her body suggested.
Maurise nodded along politely while quietly scrutinizing her.
As time ticked on, other students began to trickle into the classroom.
Since History of Magic was a shared class for the houses, the room quickly became crowded and noisy.
Harry and Ron arrived with only minutes to spare. After scanning the room, they opted to sit directly behind Maurise.
Maurise turned around and offered a nod to the red headed boy. "Ron. How is the leg holding up?"
Ron placed his books on the desk and paused. A flicker of unnatural stiffness crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a relaxed grin. "Oh, that? It's fine. Healed up practically overnight. Thanks for asking... Maurise."
He hesitated slightly on the name. Harry had to remind him of it earlier.
Furthermore, Fred had dropped a bombshell on him at breakfast. The spider that had terrified him was not just some random creature. Maurise was the actual owner. The twins had merely borrowed it.
The thought made Ron shudder. Maurise looked so polite and harmless, yet he kept a distinctively lethal arachnid as a pet. You truly could not judge a book by its cover.
"That's good to hear," Maurise said. He fished a brightly wrapped sweet from his pocket and handed it to Ron. "I am sorry about scaring you last night. Consider this a peace offering. I got it from your brothers. It tastes quite good, but once you eat it your tongue will..."
Ron did not wait for the end of the sentence. He grabbed the sweet, tore off the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth.
"Whaaa... Mmph!"
Ron tried to ask what Maurise was saying, but he was suddenly cut off as his tongue began to expand uncontrollably.
It swelled rapidly, filling his entire mouth until he could not even close his jaw. He could only make muffled, panicked noises. His eyes went wide as saucers, and he clapped his hands over his bulging cheeks, staring at Maurise in horror.
Harry jumped in his seat, nearly knocking his inkwell over. "Ron! Your tongue!"
Hermione, witnessing Ron's comical and pitiful state, looked shocked. Her shock quickly turned to disapproval as she glared at Maurise. "What on earth did you give him?"
"Er, the side effects only last about thirty seconds. Relax," Maurise said, looking slightly resigned.
Why was the boy so impatient?
If he had just let Maurise finish the sentence, he would have known what was coming.
Approximately thirty seconds later, Ron's balloon like tongue deflated as quickly as it had grown, returning to its normal size.
Hermione was still frowning, indignant on Ron's behalf. "You should have explained the side effects first, Maurise. Even if it's a harmless joke, that was irresponsible."
Before Maurise could defend himself, Ron waved a hand dismissively.
"It's fine," Ron said, smacking his lips and looking surprisingly unbothered. "Actually, the toffee was brilliant."
Compared to facing a baby Acromantula the night before, a swollen tongue was nothing. His mental resilience had clearly leveled up.
Besides, Ron was currently more interested in something else.
"Maurise," Ron asked curiously, "you know my brothers?"
"Yes," Maurise nodded. "Fred and George. Decent blokes."
"You're tight with them?" Ron pressed.
"We get along well enough," Maurise replied.
"Huh," Ron muttered, sinking into thought.
It was strange. Maurise was a first year student just like them. How had he already fallen in with Fred and George?
At that moment, Hermione seemed to realize something. Her gaze darted between Maurise, Harry, and Ron. "Wait a moment. Did the three of you know each other before today?"
She had noticed that Harry and Ron's attitude toward Maurise was not the polite distance usually reserved for strangers.
Harry and Ron exchanged a quick look.
"We had a bit of a... situation," Harry said vaguely. "We met last night."
"I see," Hermione said, though she did not press further.