Minister Fudge leaned in closely, his face a picture of eager curiosity. "Maurise... you don't mind if I call you Maurise, do you? Could you perhaps enlighten us on exactly how you managed to defeat that legendary monster?"
"I apologize, Minister, but I am afraid I cannot disclose the specific details of that encounter," Maurise replied with practiced, flawless politeness.
Fudge let out a slightly forced, uncomfortable chuckle. "Ah, of course, of course. Young men are entitled to their secrets. That is perfectly fine."
Rapidly shifting gears, Fudge began peppering Maurise with questions about a myriad of completely unrelated topics.
'God, this man never shuts up,' Maurise thought.
Nevertheless, Maurise answered every question thoughtfully.
When the topic eventually drifted to his recent academic pursuits...
"My current studies? Well, recently I have been translating some highly obscure, ancient magical manuscripts. Oh, would you like to hear about them, Minister? The theoretical framework of ancient Ward magic is absolutely fascinating..."
As Maurise seamlessly transitioned into a highly complex, graduate-level academic lecture, the jovial smile on Fudge's face slowly froze into a rictus grin.
'Who on earth asked about ancient Wards?!'
"Ahem, yes, very fascinating. Truly captivating stuff..." Fudge interrupted frantically the exact second Maurise paused for breath.
Desperate to escape the intellectual barrage, Fudge turned to the silent, imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy. "What are your thoughts on all this, Lucius?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Fudge deeply regretted asking.
Lucius Malfoy struck the floor sharply with the silver, snake-headed handle of his walking stick.
"Utter, unadulterated nonsense," Lucius sneered coldly. "Are we truly expected to believe that a mere child single-handedly defeated the mythical monster of the Chamber of Secrets? The beast's fangs are likely longer than his entire arm. Honestly, Fudge, do you actually believe this fabricated fairy tale?"
"Well... um..." Fudge stammered, caught entirely off guard.
Truthfully, he didn't really believe it either. But right now, the actual truth didn't matter in the slightest. He just needed a neat, tidy resolution to the crisis.
"It is the absolute truth," Dumbledore interjected smoothly, effectively silencing the Minister. "Furthermore, Lucius, I must inquire as to why you are currently trespassing on school grounds. The official documentation from the Board of Governors should have already reached your desk. You are currently under strict investigation for utilizing highly illicit methods of intimidation to coerce your fellow governors into suspending me."
Fudge visibly squirmed, nervously dabbing his sweating forehead with a handkerchief.
Lucius entirely ignored Dumbledore's accusation. Instead, he took a slow, menacing step toward Maurise.
"Mr. Black, you still have a fleeting opportunity to confess the truth," Lucius hissed, his tone dripping with aristocratic malice. "Fabricating an elaborate, heroic tale might garner you some fleeting, pathetic attention from your peers, but such lies always unravel eventually."
"If you confess the truth right now, we can write this off as a minor, harmless childhood indiscretion. No one will hold it against you."
The underlying threat in his silken voice was unmistakable.
Maurise instantly deduced Malfoy's angle. If he cracked under the pressure and admitted to lying, every single statement Dumbledore had made regarding the Chamber and Hagrid's innocence would be thrown into profound doubt.
Fudge opened his mouth, clearly intending to play peacemaker, but Maurise beat him to it. His voice was perfectly calm, carrying not a single ounce of fear.
"I am afraid I have no idea what you are implying, sir. I located the entrance to the Chamber. I executed the Basilisk. And I personally dealt with Lord Voldemort..."
"Hiss..."
Fudge sucked in a sharp, terrified breath. "What... what does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have to do with any of this?" The Minister's voice was strained, and his complexion had taken on a sickly greenish hue.
Lucius Malfoy's expression darkened significantly, a flicker of genuine alarm crossing his arrogant features.
Maurise turned a confused look toward Dumbledore. "Professor, did you honestly not mention the Dark Lord's involvement to the Minister?"
Dumbledore sipped his tea serenely. "That is precisely why I requested your presence, Maurise. This is your personal experience. It is far more appropriate for you to narrate the events."
'...Fine.'
Maurise suppressed an exasperated sigh. He strongly suspected Dumbledore was simply too lazy to explain it himself.
Obliging the Headmaster, Maurise provided a highly condensed, sanitized summary. He explained how a dark artifact—the diary containing a memory of Voldemort—had possessed young Ginny Weasley, forcing her to unleash the Basilisk upon the castle. He concluded by detailing how he had uncovered the plot, entered the Chamber, and neutralized both the artifact and the serpent.
Naturally, he meticulously omitted any mention of his bone dragon or the fact that he had enslaved the Dark Lord's fractured soul.
As the tale unfolded, Fudge looked increasingly horrified, furiously mopping the sweat from his brow.
"Is this... is this actually true, Albus? The true culprit behind all these attacks was a Dark artifact left behind by Him?"
Dumbledore offered a slow, grave nod.
"This is genuinely terrifying," Fudge shuddered, immense relief finally washing over his face. "Thank Merlin no students actually lost their lives."
"However, Miss Weasley's current condition remains highly critical," Dumbledore noted solemnly.
"That poor, unfortunate child," Fudge sighed heavily. "The Weasley girl, correct? The Ministry will naturally provide any necessary..."
Lucius Malfoy's icy voice abruptly cut through the Minister's sympathetic rambling.
"This fabricated tale is becoming increasingly absurd with every word spoken."
Hearing the blatant denial, Maurise let out a soft, mocking chuckle.
'Absurd?'
How incredibly fortunate. Maurise happened to have a highly reliable witness that Lucius would absolutely have to believe.
"Mr. Malfoy," Maurise said cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with malice. "If you refuse to believe my testimony, perhaps you should go ask your own son."
Lucius completely froze.
Dumbledore, picking up on the cue immediately, asked in a mild, helpful tone, "Maurise, why exactly are you bringing Draco into this?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention it, Professor?" Maurise blinked dramatically, leaning in as if sharing a grand secret. "Draco Malfoy actually accompanied me down into the Chamber of Secrets! We heroically joined forces and defeated the Basilisk and Voldemort together! However, Draco is incredibly modest and deeply shy. He absolutely insisted that I take all the glory for myself."
Maurise threw his hands up in a gesture of profound admiration. "Draco Malfoy. What a truly selfless, noble young man."
Lucius Malfoy turned to solid stone.
'Joined forces to defeat the Dark Lord?'
'Draco?'
'His son?'
It was the single most absurd, terrifying concept he had ever heard!
"Ah, right. There was one other minor detail," Maurise added casually, locking eyes with Lucius. "Voldemort's diary actually shared a rather interesting piece of trivia with me. Though, of course, I cannot personally verify its authenticity..."
"What detail?" Fudge asked immediately, his political instincts flaring.
Maurise spoke slowly, letting every word hang heavy in the air. "The diary claimed that, prior to arriving at Hogwarts, it had been safely stored within Malfoy Manor."
It was a highly educated guess. But the probability of it being true was astronomical.
Lucius finally snapped out of his paralyzed shock. His voice was a deadly, venomous whisper. "Are you officially accusing me of a crime, Mr. Black?"
"I am merely repeating what the artifact told me," Maurise shrugged innocently. "Unfortunately, the diary has been completely destroyed, so there is no way to verify the claim. However, the diary absolutely existed. If you doubt me, you are more than welcome to go ask your s—"
"Enough!"
Lucius's voice was hoarse and frantic. "I will verify this matter personally."
His arrogant demeanor had completely vanished. His only priority right now was finding Draco and determining exactly what kind of catastrophic mess his heir had gotten involved in.
"Lucius," Dumbledore's voice hardened, lacking its usual grandfatherly warmth. He stared directly at the fleeing aristocrat. "Before you depart, I highly suggest you heed my warning. Do not distribute any more of Lord Voldemort's old school supplies. It will not end well for you."
Lucius stumbled slightly, but he did not turn around. He practically tore the heavy wooden door open and vanished into the bright sunlight.
From his corner by the fireplace, Hagrid let out a massive, trembling sigh of relief.
He lumbered over to Maurise, his beetle-black eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank yeh, Maurise. I owe yeh me life."
"Think nothing of it, Hagrid," Maurise smiled warmly. Then, leaning in with intense curiosity, he asked, "By the way, what exactly is Azkaban like? How were the accommodations?"
Hagrid shuddered violently. "Yeh don't wanna know, Maurise. It's a terrible, terrible place."
"Please, spare no details," Maurise urged eagerly.
"Well... if yeh really wanna know," Hagrid whispered, his face pale with remembered terror. "The cells are solid stone. Tiny, pitch-black, and freezin' cold. The walls are covered in this foul, slimy moss. I 'ad a tiny grate fer a window, but it only opened when they shoved the food through."
"But the cold ain't the worst part. The worst part is the Dementors..."
Maurise listened with rapt attention, nodding thoughtfully.
'Why on earth was he so interested in the layout of Azkaban?'
Haha. Well, it was always good to be mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario.
While Maurise interviewed Hagrid, Dumbledore and Fudge were engaged in a hushed, intense conversation near the door.
Maurise managed to catch a few stray words like "Lockhart" and "undeniable evidence."
It seemed the fraudulent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was finally going to face the music.