Maurise hadn't gone far before he spotted a unicorn pacing in a clearing. Its snowy-white coat blended almost seamlessly with the snow beneath its hooves.
He patted the undead unicorn's neck gently. "Say hello. Draw it over."
The undead unicorn let out a clear, resonant whinny that echoed through the forest.
The ordinary unicorn immediately threw its head up, ears pricked, its gaze locking directly onto their position. Soon, it trotted over calmly, coming to a halt right in front of the undead unicorn.
'The illusion worked.'
'What a genuinely terrifying ability,' Maurise marveled inwardly. Unicorns were ranked among the most sensitive of all magical creatures; deceiving their senses was no small feat.
Just then, his owl, Cinder, swooped down, letting out a sharp hoot of warning.
Maurise turned and spotted a figure approaching rapidly through the trees. From a distance, it looked like Professor Grubbly-Plank.
'Right, time to go.'
Since the test was complete, there was no reason to stick around, especially in this freezing weather. Maurise patted the undead unicorn's neck. The creature understood instantly, pushing off the ground with a light leap and taking to the air.
The ordinary unicorn stood frozen, staring blankly as its 'kin' flew into the sky—its equine brain utterly failing to process the sight before it.
'Since when... could we fly?'
Riding on the undead unicorn's back, Maurise looked down at the Forbidden Forest, the wind whistling past his ears, feeling a profound sense of exhilaration. The sunlight gleamed off the snowy ground, reflecting a blinding expanse of silver.
However, the sun soon ducked behind the clouds. Unnoticed, a light snow began to fall, growing heavier until visibility became little more than a blur.
"Let's land," Maurise instructed.
The undead unicorn responded instantly, descending to the ground, changing direction, and beginning the trek back. As they neared the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Maurise unsummoned the undead creature and slipped silently out of the underbrush. He had perfected this routine to an art form.
Afterward, Maurise headed toward the castle. As he passed by the Black Lake, he ran right into an acquaintance.
Fleur Delacour.
She seemed to have been outside for quite a while. Her long, silvery-blonde hair was dusted with snowflakes, some of which had melted, leaving her looking slightly damp.
"Good morning, Fleur," Maurise stopped and offered a greeting first. "Out for a stroll?"
"I am afraid the weather is rather uncooperative," Fleur brushed the snow from her hair, looking up at the increasingly heavy snowfall with a touch of exasperation. The weather here changed in the blink of an eye.
"Fair enough, you have a point," Maurise nodded. "See you later."
He turned to leave, but Fleur reached out and grabbed his arm.
Maurise paused, turning back to look at her in mild surprise. "Is something the matter?"
"I came looking for you, actually," Fleur said, looking a hint uncomfortable. "Kyle Chesterfield told me you headed this way."
Seeing that the conversation might last a while, Maurise drew his wand and gave it a flick above them. A transparent barrier materialized over their heads like an invisible umbrella, neatly shielding them from the falling snow.
Fleur glanced up, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Go on, what is it?" Maurise asked.
"Oh, well," Fleur flashed a brilliant smile. "I heard tomorrow is a Hogsmeade weekend, so I was hoping to find someone to go wandering with."
"Me?" Maurise replied. "But I have some things to do tomorrow."
It was an excuse. In all honesty, he much preferred staying in a warm room, researching magic or reading a book. He had no desire to go anywhere.
Fleur's smile froze on her face. She clearly hadn't anticipated being rejected. She sighed, muttering almost to herself, "Who should I ask, then?"
"Do you not have any friends?" Maurise asked.
The moment the words left his mouth, he felt something was slightly off.
Fleur glared at him.
"Of course I do," she said, her tone several degrees icier than a moment ago.
'Figured as much,' Maurise sighed inwardly. He was already well aware that he frequently blurted out things that made people uncomfortable. He was trying his best to fix it—he had even bought a book titled 'How to Make Other Wizards Like You the Moment You Open Your Mouth'.
'Yeah, I should probably flip through that again when I get back.'
"Er, my apologies," Maurise swiftly changed the subject. "What time tomorrow? I will be there."
Fleur's tone immediately lightened. "Nine o'clock. We will meet at the school gates."
---
The next morning, Maurise arrived at the school gates.
Nine o'clock on the dot, not a minute early, not a minute late. He was always exceptionally punctual. Fleur was already waiting. Today, she wore an inconspicuous gray robe that roughly matched the color of Maurise's clothes—yet, even so, she was stunningly radiant.
Maurise racked his brain for an opening line. According to 'How to Make Other Wizards Like You the Moment You Open Your Mouth', he was supposed to compliment her outfit today, but not make it seem too deliberate; it had to flow naturally...
'Ugh... never mind.' It just wasn't his style.
After a simple greeting, the two walked out of the gates side-by-side, heading toward Hogsmeade. The road was dotted with small groups of students, clearly heading to the exact same destination.
Upon arriving in Hogsmeade, Fleur took in her surroundings and sighed wistfully. "Having a shopping street right next to the school is truly a stroke of luck."
"Hogsmeade is indeed a good place to unwind," Maurise agreed, the snow crunching beneath his boots.
"There is no all-wizard village like this near my school," Fleur said with a smile. "But the scenery there is far more beautiful. In the spring, the entire valley is covered in flowers, and we have a chateau where we can..."
The two chatted idly as they strolled through the village.
Honeydukes, Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, the Shrieking Shack...
After wandering past a few landmarks, they turned off the High Street down a narrow side alley. Fleur hadn't bought anything, but she was in high spirits. She suddenly pointed at a grimy-looking building at the corner. "What is that place?"
Maurise followed her gaze and answered, "The Hog's Head. The name is right on the sign."
A heavily muffled figure just happened to slip out the door. Fleur frowned, seemingly unable to comprehend why anyone would name a pub something so unappetizing.
"Do you want to take a look inside?" Maurise asked. "Aside from being a bit dirty, it is fairly normal."
Fleur thought for a moment. "Alright." Though the place looked rather dubious, Maurise's nonchalance piqued her curiosity.
Maurise stepped forward and pushed open the heavy wooden door—which was probably older than he was. A strong scent, closely resembling wet goat, washed over them.
The two stepped inside, one after the other. There weren't many patrons, only a handful of occupied tables, and nearly half the people inside had their faces deliberately obscured.