Ten minutes later.
Grindelwald stared at the surreal scene unfolding before him, at a loss for how to react.
Maurise was squatting casually in the center of the freezing stone cell. He had used his wand to conjure a stable magical fire, directly upon which rested a massive, polished brass cauldron. The thick, crimson liquid inside was bubbling vigorously, releasing a potent, spicy aroma.
Arranged neatly on the floorboards surrounding the cauldron were several pristine ceramic plates, each piled high with thinly sliced raw meats and various fresh vegetables.
"The broth will be ready in a second," Maurise announced cheerfully, giving his wand a casual flick. "In the meantime, here."
A bright red aluminum can floated smoothly through the air, hovering directly in front of Grindelwald.
Grindelwald reflexively reached out and grasped the cold, heavy object. He examined the unfamiliar text and bizarre logo printed on the exterior, realizing it was some kind of drink.
"What is this?"
Seeing the legendary Dark Lord staring blankly at a simple soda can, Maurise let out an exasperated sigh. "Ah, old people..."
He stood up, walked over, and popped the aluminum tab for him. "Drink up. It's a popular Muggle soda called 'Coca-Cola'. It's pretty good."
Grindelwald stared suspiciously at the dark, fizzing liquid near the rim, before cautiously raising the can to his lips and taking a small, experimental sip.
The dark liquid had a peculiar, intense sweetness, followed by a sharp, bubbling sensation on his tongue.
'...It's actually not bad.'
Maurise returned to his bubbling cauldron and began transferring the raw ingredients into the spicy broth. The mouth-watering aroma of Sichuan hotpot instantly flooded the cramped, damp cell.
Grindelwald suddenly experienced a sense of unreality.
The whole scenario was just too bizarre.
As Maurise busied himself with the food, he paused, staring intently at Grindelwald's face for a moment.
"Uh... Mr. Grindelwald," Maurise began hesitantly. "Do you need me to transfigure some temporary dentures for you?"
He had just remembered the old man's earlier complaint about his missing teeth.
Grindelwald offered an amused nod. "That would be helpful."
---
For the next hour, Maurise engaged Grindelwald in a detailed discussion about the nature of the Void.
He had no personal frame of reference for Grindelwald's temperament during his youth as a terrifying Dark Lord.
However, the old man sitting before him was surprisingly lucid, logical, and easy to talk to.
Through their fragmented conversation and his own deductions, Maurise gradually solidified a few concrete theories about the Void.
First, aside from the two of them, no living wizard had ever successfully breached that dimension—or at the very least, they had never found any evidence of one.
Second, the dense, unnatural white fog permeating the dimension was almost certainly the residual spiritual energy left behind by the countless souls traversing it.
Third, and most importantly, Grindelwald confirmed the existence of a physical gateway hidden deep within the dimension that led directly into the Underworld.
Grindelwald admitted he had seen the gateway during his youth, but he had never attempted to cross the threshold.
He was certain that once someone crossed that boundary, returning to the realm of the living was a mathematical impossibility.
Finally, Grindelwald shared one last theological theory.
"Death—the entity itself—is a tangible reality," Grindelwald stated with conviction, taking a final sip from his red aluminum can. "Just as the physical existence of the Deathly Hallows is a reality."
Maurise paused, his chopsticks hovering over the cauldron. "Have you actually met it?"
"No," Grindelwald shook his head. "But my mastery of divination confirms its existence beyond a shadow of a doubt."
He spoke with such terrifying certainty that it was impossible to disregard his claim. He possessed unwavering faith in his own Seer abilities.
"Fascinating," Maurise murmured.
He suddenly felt an intense curiosity about the nature of the "Underworld" and the physical manifestation of "Death."
He fully intended to locate and observe them during his lifetime.
'...Then again, maybe I have to wait until I die to actually see them?'
At that moment, the small, heavy iron cover on the cell door slid open with a sharp screech. A pair of eyes appeared behind the rusted bars.
The eyes blinked once, registering the bizarre scene inside, before widening in shock.
'Someone's here!'
'And without a single warning or magical fluctuation!'
Operating entirely on honed combat reflexes, Maurise instantly triggered his Necromantic Summoning. A smooth, featureless white bone mask materialized over his face in a fraction of a second.
Almost immediately, the heavy iron door was shoved open. A panicked wizard wearing thick robes charged into the cell.
The man had his wand drawn, his face a picture of pure shock.
"Who the hell are you?!" the guard screamed. "How did you get in here?!"
Maurise slowly looked from the bubbling cauldron of spicy hotpot resting on the floorboards, back up to Grindelwald, who was still sitting calmly in his wooden chair.
The ensuing silence was painfully awkward.
Grindelwald finally broke the silence, his tone unbothered. "Routine guard inspections happen about once a month. By my count, today is the day."
"You could have mentioned that little detail a bit earlier."
Maurise shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Alright then. See you."
The instant he finished speaking, he triggered his teleportation and vanished from the cell.
However, he didn't leave empty-handed. Using his spatial magic, he simultaneously teleported everything he had brought with him, vanishing the brass cauldron, the ceramic plates, and the empty soda can.
The cramped stone cell plunged back into freezing silence, as if the bizarre culinary encounter had never happened.
The panicked guard stood frozen in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.
'What just happened?!'
'This whole fortress is shielded by advanced Anti-Apparition jinxes! It's impossible to teleport in or out!'
He turned his panicked gaze toward Grindelwald. "Who was that?!"
Grindelwald merely offered a heavy sigh, closed his eyes, and returned to his silent meditation.
It was his usual routine.
Regardless of what he said or did, the reality of his imprisonment remained unchanged.
---
Inside the master bedroom of the Ship in a Bottle.
Maurise materialized in the center of the room, an annoyed scowl twisting his features.
'Talk about bad luck.'
'I didn't even get to eat a single bite of the hotpot!'
'Whatever.'
Maurise let out a heavy sigh, banishing the depressing thought from his mind.
He strolled over to the glass porthole and peered outside.
The Ship in a Bottle was hovering steadily at an altitude of ten thousand meters, concealed by its Disillusionment Charm.
While the sudden encounter with the guard was a minor setback, he had managed to hide his face behind the bone mask. His true identity remained secure.
It wasn't a big deal.
'Time to go home.'
Perhaps he would drop by again to properly thank Grindelwald sometime in the future.
After returning to Great Britain, Maurise slipped back into his relaxed holiday routine.
He had initially intended to pay Mundungus Fletcher a less-than-friendly visit about the defective compass. However, after asking around through his underground contacts, he found out the sleazy merchant was vacationing in some remote country on the opposite side of the globe. He had to temporarily shelve his plans for payback.
Early one morning in January, Maurise pushed open the heavy wooden door of Frick's antique shop in Knockturn Alley.
The moment he stepped inside, he was met by a dramatic, passionate voice reciting poetry.
Old Frick was standing behind the dusty counter, dramatically clutching a piece of parchment and reciting with obvious fervor.
It was definitely poetry.
The first line he caught was: "Oh, Lady Caroline..."
It was cheesy, romantic poetry.
"Ahem," Maurise coughed loudly, unimpressed.
Frick immediately halted his recitation, not looking the least bit embarrassed.
"Ah! Good morning, Maurise," Frick greeted him cheerfully. "I'm a bit busy at the moment. What brings you here?"
Maurise cut straight to the chase. "I need an update on the Aura Concealment Stones. How are the sales?"
"Ah, those," Frick leaned casually against the counter. "I've only sold two. The price you set is just way too high for normal customers."
"But the profit margins are still great, right?"
"Can't argue with that."
Following a brief business discussion, Maurise strolled casually into the back room. With practiced ease, he opened Frick's private pantry, grabbed the last two slices of bread, and started making himself a sandwich.
Frick followed him into the kitchen, his jaw dropping as he watched the boy raid his food.
"Hey! That was my breakfast!" Frick protested indignantly.
"Oh," Maurise offered an indifferent grunt, taking a massive bite of the sandwich.
"You little bastard!" Frick glared at him.
At that moment, the bell above the shop entrance chimed loudly.
Frick quickly hurried back out to the storefront.
Ten seconds later, he rushed back into the kitchen, looking panicked and dead serious.
"Maurise," Frick hissed urgently, dropping his voice to a whisper. "There's someone really powerful in the shop asking for you."
Maurise paused mid-chew, looking confused. "Looking for me? Who is it?"
"Albus Dumbledore."
"Hmm?"