The Dueling Club was an unmitigated disaster.
As the primary organizer, Lockhart was entirely incapable of controlling the crowd, let alone providing genuine instruction on dueling technique.
Almost immediately after the students were paired off, the Great Hall descended into absolute chaos.
The upper-year students managed to maintain a thin veneer of order. While their spells occasionally veered wildly off course, they were generally able to keep things contained. The lower-year students, however, devolved into a terrifying, chaotic free-for-all. Stray spell beams ricocheted dangerously off the walls, jinxes flew indiscriminately in every direction, and Maurise even spotted a few younger students completely abandoning magic in favor of throwing actual punches.
Realizing the situation had entirely spiraled out of his control, Lockhart frantically called a halt to the free practice. He announced that he would select two students to come up to the stage for a controlled demonstration.
Who would be chosen for this demonstration?
It was hardly a mystery.
For Maurise, the ensuing duel between Harry and Draco Malfoy was completely boring, right up until the moment Draco cast the Snake-Summons Spell, Serpensortia.
When the massive black snake reared up, Harry stepped forward and began to hiss.
Parseltongue. Maurise recognized the language instantly. It was an incredibly rare, almost mythical magical trait that allowed a wizard to communicate directly with snakes.
He had recently read about it in The Greatness of Herpo the Foul. Herpo himself had been a legendary Parselmouth, which was exactly how he had managed to control the Basilisk.
What did this mean for the current situation?
It was glaringly obvious. Following the established tropes of the narrative, Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue was undoubtedly the key to tracking down the Basilisk currently terrorizing the school.
Ah, the designated Savior of the Wizarding World. It makes perfect narrative sense. Maurise glanced around the Great Hall. Almost every single student was staring at Harry in absolute, petrified horror.
"What is going on?" Maurise asked, nudging Kyle. "Why is everyone looking at him like that?"
Kyle pointed a trembling finger toward the stage. "He... he is the Heir of Slytherin."
"And what led you to that monumental conclusion?"
Kyle leaned in, dropping his voice to a terrified whisper. "Salazar Slytherin was famously a Parselmouth! Everyone knows that! Harry Potter must be his direct descendant!"
Ah. So that is the connection. Maurise nodded slowly.
It seemed the "Harry is the Heir" misunderstanding was going to drag on for quite a while.
---
Exactly as Maurise predicted, following the disastrous Dueling Club, the vast majority of the student body firmly believed Harry Potter was the true Heir of Slytherin. For the next several days, students treated him like the bubonic plague, parting like the Red Sea whenever he walked down a corridor.
Despite the professors repeatedly emphasizing that there was absolutely zero concrete evidence linking Harry to the attacks, the seeds of paranoia and terror had been sown deep. Once planted, they were nearly impossible to uproot.
A few days later, the paranoia reached a boiling point. Another horrific piece of news swept through the castle.
There were two new victims.
This time, the Basilisk had petrified Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, and a Hufflepuff second-year named Justin Finch-Fletchley.
A Basilisk can actually petrify a ghost? Intensely curious about the magical mechanics behind that, Maurise took another subtle detour to the hospital wing.
He discovered that the petrified ghost had turned a deep, opaque, smoky black color. However, Nick still retained his spectral properties; he was completely incorporeal and could not be physically touched by the living.
The atmosphere within Hogwarts had grown suffocatingly tense. Everyone was perpetually on edge, terrified they would be the next victim found frozen in the corridors.
Maurise felt a twinge of sympathy for Dumbledore. The Headmaster had to be tearing his hair out trying to manage the crisis. If the Basilisk continued claiming victims at this rate, the Board of Governors would undoubtedly force the school to close.
Finally, the term drew to a close, and the Christmas holidays arrived.
With the vast majority of the panicked student body fleeing back home, the castle instantly became wonderfully quiet and peaceful.
Maurise elected to remain at Hogwarts for the holidays. He had no external plans, and the empty castle was the perfect environment for his research. If he absolutely needed to leave the grounds for supplies, he could always leverage his connections; the Weasley twins knew practically every secret passage out of the castle.
Furthermore, he had an incredibly important project to finalize.
The massive dragon skeleton buried deep within the Forbidden Forest had finally been completely excavated, cleaned, and infused with enough restorative magic to regain its structural vitality.
The cost of this achievement, however, was staggering. His personal stockpile of Dragon's Blood was completely depleted. Since many of his ongoing magical experiments also required the rare ingredient, Maurise had been forced to place another massive order with Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley.
His financial reserves had officially hit rock bottom.
On Christmas Eve, immediately after breakfast, Maurise headed straight to the seventh floor. He paced three times in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
When the polished door to the Room of Requirement materialized, he pushed it open eagerly.
He had requested a "spacious, completely empty room." Resting in the center of the vast stone floor was the fully assembled dragon skeleton. The massive bones gleamed with a warm, pearlescent luster.
A complex, highly intricate Necromancy conversion array had already been drawn on the floor surrounding the skeleton. Everything was perfectly prepared.
Without any hesitation, Maurise initiated the ritual.
"The world of the living has not yet forgotten you, and the slumber of death is not your final chapter."
The incantation flowed smoothly.
Just like his previous conversion rituals, the dark, magical lines forming the array slowly detached from the floor and began to slither up the colossal skeleton, sinking deep into the porous bone.
Suddenly, twin infernos of spectral blue soul-fire ignited within the dragon's massive, hollow eye sockets. The entire skeletal structure shuddered violently. Then, with the deafening, grinding screech of bone rubbing against bone, the colossal beast slowly rose to its feet.
The ritual was a flawless success!
Unfortunately, because the ceiling of the Room of Requirement was not quite high enough, the Bone Dragon was forced to hunch its long neck and keep its massive, skeletal wings tightly folded against its ribs.
Despite the cramped posture, the sheer, suffocating aura radiating from the creature was genuinely terrifying.
This was a fully animated, undead dragon!
Maurise briefly imagined the absolute terror this creature would inflict if anyone else were to see it. Fear? Awe? Likely a potent, heart-stopping combination of both.
Well, that did not matter. It was entirely under his control.
Maurise stepped forward, looking up at the towering, pale construct.
The Bone Dragon immediately sensed his magical signature. Acting much like a giant, fiercely loyal dog, it lowered its massive, terrifying skull down to his level.
Maurise pressed his palm against the smooth, cold bone of its forehead. It possessed no body heat, but the mental connection pulsing through the bone filled Maurise with a profound sense of security.
Regrettably, much like his other undead summons (with the notable exception of Tin), the Bone Dragon's intelligence was relatively low. It could only comprehend and execute basic, straightforward commands.
This was entirely expected. The skeleton had been buried for centuries. Its original soul had long since dissipated into the ether.
"Meow."
Suddenly, Tin materialized by Maurise's feet. Maurise had recently granted his familiar unrestricted access to enter and exit the Undead Storage Array at will.
The undead cat stared up at the towering mountain of bone. Tin Can displayed absolutely no fear. Instead, a distinct look of smug satisfaction crossed the feline's face.
Excellent. Finally, an underling that actually looks intimidating.
With a graceful leap, Tin sprang onto the Bone Dragon's lowered snout, curled up comfortably between the dragon's eye sockets, and settled down.
The Bone Dragon did not resist in the slightest. Its blue soul-fire pulsed steadily, and it even subtly adjusted the angle of its neck to ensure the tiny cat was more comfortable.
Maurise smiled warmly at the bizarre sight.
It seemed all of his undead summons possessed a faint, instinctual connection, allowing them to recognize each other as kin.
"Alright, Tin. It is time to go."
Maurise flicked his wrist. The massive Bone Dragon instantly vanished, drawn back into the storage array.
Caught completely off guard, Tin plummeted through the empty air and face-planted heavily onto the stone floor, letting out a pathetic yelp.
"...Ah. Sorry about that."
Maurise scooped up his disgruntled, slightly dizzy cat and quickly exited the Room of Requirement.
The Bone Dragon was safely stored away. As a side note, Maurise had been forced to drastically expand the internal capacity of his Undead Storage Arrayover the past month. It was now more than large enough to comfortably house his colossal new pet.