The Patronus Charm was an advanced, intricate piece of magic that typically required a high degree of innate talent and emotional control to master.
However, Harry Potter's innate talent was evidently not something that required any genuine concern.
'After all, he's the protagonist of this story.'
'What sort of protagonist doesn't have at least one absurdly overpowered talent?'
Following Maurise's precise theoretical instruction and practical demonstrations, Harry had successfully managed to conjure a substantial, concentrated cloud of silver mist on his very first attempt.
He was essentially only one minor breakthrough away from successfully forming a fully corporeal Patronus.
Maurise firmly believed that as long as Harry continued his rigorous practice regimen, or perhaps encountered a specific, intense emotional catalyst, his Patronus would fully materialize.
As for exactly how long that process would take, Maurise possessed zero idea.
After all, his own corporeal Patronus had manifested flawlessly on his very first attempt. He had zero personal experience with the frustrating, drawn-out process of incremental improvement.
'Ah, the heavy burden of absolute genius.'
Ultimately, Maurise could only logically advise Harry to seek additional instructional perspectives from more experienced faculty members, such as Dumbledore or Lupin.
Furthermore, inspired by Maurise's terrifying display of magical power at the Quidditch match, Fred and George had also initiated their own rigorous Patronus training regimens.
They firmly believed that mastering the defensive spell was an absolute tactical necessity as long as the Dementors continued to loiter around the school grounds.
---
Time passed quickly. Soon, more than half a month had slipped by.
It was a quiet Saturday morning in late November.
The temperature had plummeted drastically, and a fine, relentless snow had been falling steadily since dawn, blanketing the castle grounds in a thick layer of white.
It was the perfect weather to remain indoors and do absolutely nothing productive.
Inside the cozy, heavily expanded parlor of the Ship in a Bottle, Maurise was currently lounging comfortably on the plush sofa. He was casually flipping through a thick grimoire, feeling profoundly relaxed.
Resting on the coffee table directly in front of him was a massive, polished brass cauldron. The thick, crimson liquid inside was bubbling vigorously, releasing an aromatic, intensely spicy cloud of steam.
Oh, do not misunderstand. He wasn't brewing a dark potion.
The cauldron was currently filled with an assortment of thinly sliced meats and fresh vegetables.
Primarily premium cuts of lamb and beef, along with several varieties of leafy greens.
'How can anyone survive winter without a proper hotpot?'
Furthermore, he had meticulously engineered an authentic, intensely spicy Sichuan-style broth.
He had specifically utilized the Disillusionment Charm to conduct numerous covert supply runs into Muggle London, raiding several specialized Asian supermarkets just to acquire the necessary, authentic spices and chili peppers.
At this precise moment, sitting in the warm parlor and inhaling the spicy aroma, Maurise experienced a fleeting, nostalgic illusion that he had returned to his previous life.
'Well... if I ignore the magical grimoire in my lap.'
He casually turned a page of the ancient text, deftly utilized a pair of wooden chopsticks to extract a perfectly cooked slice of lamb from the bubbling crimson broth, and popped it into his mouth.
'Absolute perfection.'
Right at that satisfying moment, a sudden, brilliant flash of silver light illuminated the glass portholes.
Maurise looked up.
Two glowing, corporeal silver birds fluttered gracefully straight through the solid hull of the ship. They landed neatly on the edge of the coffee table, tilting their tiny, glowing heads to observe him.
They were Patronuses.
Furthermore, he instantly recognized the specific avian species.
One was a magpie. The other was also a magpie.
'Hmm?'
Maurise raised an intrigued eyebrow, instantly deducing the situation.
Exactly as he suspected, a fraction of a second later, a familiar, cheerful voice echoed clearly from the beak of the left magpie.
"Hello there, Maurise! How are you doing?!"
It was undeniably the voice of either Fred or George. The twins' vocal inflections were practically indistinguishable.
Maurise didn't bother offering a verbal response.
'Messenger Patronuses only transmit prerecorded messages. There's no point replying.'
He simply watched the two glowing magpies in silence, waiting patiently for them to deliver the remainder of their recorded message.
Squawk!
Both magpies suddenly let out an abrupt, discordant squawk before instantly dissolving into a fine mist of silver starlight and vanishing entirely.
"..."
Maurise stared at the empty space on the table, profoundly confused.
'What exactly was the point of that?'
He muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly, before returning his attention to his boiling hotpot.
A few minutes later, the distinct sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor, and the twins' energetic silhouettes appeared in the parlor doorway.
"Maurise!" Fred greeted him enthusiastically. "Did you receive our Patronuses?!"
"I did indeed," Maurise nodded smoothly, slowly chewing a slice of beef. "Were you not the ones who just transmitted that pointless message to me?"
"It actually worked?!"
Fred practically jogged over and threw himself onto the sofa, looking incredibly excited.
"We recently discovered an obscure theoretical text detailing how Patronuses can be utilized to securely transmit audio messages. We wanted to test the theory immediately! Aha! I cannot believe we actually pulled it off!"
George followed close behind, his face mirroring his twin's triumphant grin.
"If we perfect the technique, we can entirely eliminate our reliance on the school owls. It will save us a small fortune in postage fees... Wait, what exactly are you eating?"
"Would you care for a taste?" Maurise offered casually. "The flavor profile is quite excellent."
He gave his wand a casual flick. Two pristine sets of ceramic bowls and wooden chopsticks materialized out of thin air, landing neatly on the table in front of the twins.
However, it quickly became apparent that authentic, violently spicy Sichuan cuisine was entirely unsuitable for standard British palates.
The twins had barely consumed three slices of beef before their faces turned an alarming shade of vibrant crimson. Their lips began to swell visibly, and they were panting heavily.
Fred immediately conjured a massive goblet of iced water and began chugging it desperately.
"You added entirely too many chili peppers to this!" Fred gasped, his voice heavily slurred due to his swollen tongue.
"Perhaps," Maurise smiled faintly, setting his chopsticks down. "However, I find the intense heat stimulating."
He leaned back, amused by their suffering.
"Returning to the previous topic, would you mind demonstrating your Patronuses for me once again?"
"Not a problem."
Fred immediately drew his wand, clearing his throat.
"Expecto Patronum!"
George mirrored the action perfectly.
Even their wand movements were entirely synchronized.
The two brilliant silver magpies instantly materialized on the table, tilting their heads to stare at Maurise once again.
Maurise leaned in closer, observing the magical constructs with intense academic scrutiny.
He slowly extended a finger and lightly brushed the glowing wing of one of the magpies. A ripple of silver starlight cascaded off the point of contact.
'The magical signature... the density of the positive energy...'
'Structurally, they're no different from my own ravens.'
"Tell me," Maurise withdrew his hand, looking at the twins. "Are either of you capable of conjuring additional Patronuses simultaneously? Similar to the flock I produced at the Quidditch match?"
The twins exchanged a perplexed look.
Fred scratched the back of his neck.
"That is precisely the issue we have encountered."
George chimed in.
"Regardless of how much raw magical energy we attempt to channel into the spell, we are completely incapable of manifesting a second corporeal form. Maurise, how exactly did you manage to summon an entire flock?"
'Just as I expected.'
'This is the natural limit of an ordinary wizard's Patronus Charm.'
'My case is simply an exception.'
Maurise spread his hands in a casual gesture.
"In all honesty, I am not entirely certain of the specific underlying mechanics. I simply willed the magic to multiply, and it obeyed."
Fred let out a heavy, exasperated sigh.
"Of course. Why did I even bother asking? It is just Maurise being Maurise."
He had long since concluded that whenever Maurise accomplished something completely impossible, the only sensible response was to accept it and move on. Attempting to understand the boy's magical logic was a guaranteed path to a headache.
George nodded vigorously in agreement.
Maurise offered a faint smile. He stood up and strolled over to a cluttered shelf in the corner of the parlor, beginning to rummage through a pile of miscellaneous artifacts.
"What exactly are you looking for?" Fred craned his neck, curious.
"A minor prototype," Maurise replied over his shoulder. "I finalized the runic matrix a few days ago, and I intended to show it to you... ah, here it is."
He walked back to the table and casually tossed a small, inconspicuous gray burlap sack onto the table.
It looked entirely ordinary.
Fred and George exchanged a suspicious look before leaning in to inspect the item.
"It appears to be a completely standard burlap sack."
"What exactly is contained within?"
Maurise offered a mysterious, slightly wicked smile.
"I officially call it: The Portable Grave."
"Oh! I comprehend the naming convention!" Fred's eyes lit up with sudden realization. "It operates on the exact same spatial principles as our Portable Swamp, correct?"
He paused, a confused expression crossing his face.
"However... why on earth would you engineer a portable grave?"
"You shall understand momentarily."
Maurise casually untied the drawstring of the sack, revealing the contents: a single, highly jagged piece of dark, polished stone.
Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the stone and tossed it aggressively into the center of the open parlor floor.
The exact instant the stone made contact with the floorboards, a massive mound of freshly turned earth violently erupted from the ground.
A heavy, polished marble headstone slammed down at the head of the grave.
Fred and George immediately scrambled over to inspect the macabre manifestation.
"Manufactured by the illustrious Maurise Black. Pay your absolute respects," George read the deeply engraved epitaph aloud, his facial expression twisting into something incredibly complex.