Moments after Dumbledore finally departed the shop, Frick cautiously poked his head out from the kitchen doorway.
He darted his eyes nervously around the storefront, verifying that the Headmaster's imposing silhouette had vanished, before finally letting out a massive sigh of relief and stepping out from behind the door.
Maurise watched the man's exaggerated display with mild amusement. "Are you really that terrified of Dumbledore? What did he do to you?"
Frick's expression became complex. "He practically tried to murder me."
"Excuse me?"
Maurise was surprised by the accusation. His curiosity piqued. "Care to explain?"
Frick took a deep, shuddering breath. "Two years ago, he tried to recruit me for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. I'm sure you know the state of that position. Everyone who takes it meets a catastrophic end."
"Ah. I see."
Maurise shook his head, a distinct look of disappointment crossing his face.
He had anticipated a more scandalous, dramatic secret.
'How mundane.'
"What's with that dismissive look?" Frick, ever perceptive, caught the fleeting disappointment. He stared at the boy in disbelief. "Do you really think that isn't a severe threat?!"
"It's a severe hazard," Maurise offered a slight nod.
"Let me explain," Frick continued, his voice tight. "Over a decade ago, I actually taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. This recent attempt was Dumbledore asking me a second time! After barely surviving the first time, why on earth would I go back?!"
Maurise's interest was rekindled. "Yet here you are, alive and well."
"I'm only alive because I suffered a critical injury during my first lecture and was forced into early retirement! And the poor bastard who took over after me ended up in St. Mungo's intensive care for half a year! He got it way worse than I did. Hah! I was lucky!"
"..."
Maurise genuinely had no idea how to respond to that absurd revelation.
Voldemort's legendary curse on the teaching post was terrifyingly effective.
'Should Frick be considered lucky or unlucky? It's a debatable paradox.'
At that moment, the heavy wooden shop door creaked open with a jingle of the bell.
"Welcome!" Frick shouted reflexively, his face instantly snapping into his professional retail smile.
Maurise turned his head toward the entrance.
Three figures with distinctive, bright red hair stepped cautiously into the dimly lit shop.
It was the Weasley twins, accompanied by their father, Arthur Weasley.
'The shop is getting a lot of foot traffic today.'
The moment Fred and George stepped through the doorway, their eyes locked onto Maurise. They spoke in unison: "We knew we'd find you here, Maurise!"
Frick glanced between the redheads and his business partner. "Friends of yours?"
"Yeah. Probably dropped by to visit me," Maurise replied.
Frick instantly lost all professional interest. He waved a dismissive hand.
"Host them yourself, then. Let me know if an actual paying customer shows up," Frick instructed casually. "I need to reorganize the inventory in the back."
Without another word, he vanished through the back door, completely comfortable leaving his storefront under Maurise's supervision.
"We wandered through this dreadful alley for a while using your address," George announced cheerfully, stepping forward. "Ran into some unsavory characters, but Dad chased them off. It was brilliant."
Arthur Weasley stepped out from behind the twins, scanning the dark, suspicious shop with an uncomfortable expression. "Good morning, Maurise. You mentioned you lived here. I didn't expect it to be the literal truth."
"I lived here last year," Maurise nodded politely. "I've since found another place. But the owner is still my main business partner."
"A business partner?" Arthur's gaze slowly drifted over to a polished, reanimated skeletal construct standing silently in the corner. "What exactly does this shop sell?"
"As you can see, a variety of legal, regulated merchandise... alongside some less legal items," Maurise answered honestly.
Arthur froze for a fraction of a second before forcing a strained, polite smile. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that last part."
Fred followed his father's gaze, staring at the skeletal construct. "You really have an obsession with animated bones, Maurise."
George, however, was far more analytical. "How are the profit margins here?"
"You'd have to ask the owner for the ledgers," Maurise replied. "But I'd guess the revenue is pretty good."
Fred and George exchanged a synchronized, calculating look.
"Fascinating," Fred looked excited, his entrepreneurial spirit burning brightly. "Maybe we should look into this district. If the crowd is right, opening our joke shop in Knockturn Alley isn't out of the question."
"Uh, I'd advise against that," Maurise stated bluntly.
While he had never run a shop, he understood the importance of knowing your customers.
He was certain that if the twins tried to open Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in the heart of Knockturn Alley, the only outcome would be a "For Rent" sign on their bankrupt door.
The dark wizards and criminals frequenting this district had zero interest in harmless, colorful practical joke merchandise.
Arthur abruptly reached out and smacked Fred firmly on the back of the head. "Don't even entertain that idiotic idea, either of you."
Fred let out a pained yelp, shrinking his neck defensively.
"I was just pitching a business strategy, Dad! I know Knockturn Alley is dangerous."
George stood off to the side, chuckling at his twin's misfortune.
Arthur turned his attention back to Maurise, his expression shifting into severe, professional concern. "Maurise, since you spend time around here, I have to give you a warning. There have been reports of werewolf activity in this area recently. They're executing coordinated attacks on isolated wizards—specifically youths and children. Please, be careful."
'Werewolves?'
'Hunting in Knockturn Alley?'
"Where did you hear this?" Maurise asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Internal Ministry channels," Arthur replied in a hushed whisper. "Given the volatile nature of Knockturn Alley, they've suppressed the info to avoid mass panic. It's likely the werewolves are taking advantage of the Auror Office being spread so thin."
Arthur sighed heavily. "Most of our security forces are focused on the Sirius Black manhunt, leaving the patrols in these darker districts relaxed. So far, three vicious attacks have been documented. No fatalities yet, but the injuries are severe. Two victims are in critical condition at St. Mungo's."
Maurise wasn't particularly concerned for his own safety.
Having seen Lupin's transformation and combat capabilities up close, he was confident that standard werewolves posed zero threat to him.
Hearing the grim statistics, Fred immediately stepped forward, looking dissatisfied. "Dad! Why didn't you warn us about this earlier?!"
"Because neither of you lives in this district," Arthur stated, his expression remaining stern. "I'm warning you both right now: never sneak into this alleyway without me."
Fred offered a dramatic pout.
George chimed in logically, "Are the Aurors really just going to ignore a werewolf threat?"
"The Auror Office has strict directives," Arthur explained tiredly. "Catching a mass murderer like Sirius Black takes precedence over localized werewolf skirmishes."
Maurise nodded firmly. "I'll keep an eye out, Mr. Weasley. Thanks for the heads-up."
Arthur offered him a warm, relieved smile.
Following another ten minutes of casual conversation, the twins and Arthur finally departed the shop, heading back toward the safer confines of Diagon Alley to finish their holiday shopping.
Maurise smoothly locked the front door, walked over to a comfortable chair against the wall, and sat down, intending to start his daily meditation.
At that moment, the heavy wooden door to the back warehouse was thrown open. Frick charged out into the storefront, cursing loudly.
"Maurise!" Frick shrieked, his face red with fury. "My warehouse has been burgled again!"
Maurise slowly opened his eyes, unbothered. "That's the second time, right? If I remember correctly, the first incident involved a stolen skeletal construct."
Frick violently dragged his hands through his thinning hair, pacing frantically in a tight circle.
"I just finished upgrading the security!" he yelled. "I installed three advanced, interlocking magical locks! How is this even possible?!"
Maurise had previously tested Frick's upgraded security measures.
Aside from the spatial bypass of his shadow magic, even Maurise would have found it tedious to breach that warehouse without triggering the alarms.
It was obvious the thief had a high level of magical skill.
However... 'Why would someone with that kind of magical skill resort to petty theft in a rundown Knockturn Alley antique shop?'
Maurise rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a logical hypothesis rapidly forming. "Is it possible this was an inside job? Someone familiar?"