Chatting about the flying broomstick, the two of them walked into the History of Magic classroom. Professor McGonagall stepped forward and knocked on the blackboard.
Soon after, Professor Binns drifted out from behind it. The ghost professor looked exactly as he always did: a semi-transparent body with a slightly vacant expression, looking as if he were about to drone on with another dull passage from a history textbook at any second. However, upon seeing his visitors, his eyes suddenly cleared and sharpened.
"Hello, Professor Binns. I am sorry to disturb you," Maurise said.
Professor Binns smiled and asked, "Maurise, do you have a question for me?"
Seeing this, a flicker of surprise crossed Professor McGonagall's face. She had clearly noticed Professor Binns's uncharacteristic lucidity today.
Maurise did not waste any time. "I will get straight to the point then. Professor Binns, do you have a way to resolve this?"
He waved his hand, dismissing the white bone mask on his face to reveal the bizarre black veins spreading underneath.
"Ah!"
Professor Binns immediately dropped his smile. He floated right up to Maurise, his face almost touching the boy's, and began to examine the marks with a grave expression.
Professor McGonagall also furrowed her brow tightly. Those twisted black patterns made her feel instinctively uneasy. She asked nervously, "What is that on your face, Maurise?"
"Some kind of curse," Maurise replied. "That is why I came to find Professor Binns."
He figured this ancient ghost professor might know a thing or two.
"A curse?" Professor McGonagall paled in shock. "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Maurise's tone remained calm. "Just two days ago. I cannot seem to do anything about it myself."
Professor Binns stared at it for nearly half a minute before slowly backing away, his expression remaining solemn. He asked in a low voice, "How did you get infected with this?"
Maurise thought for a moment before answering. "I met someone two days ago. He called himself Death, and we got into a fight. The curse must have been left behind then."
"Death..." Professor Binns muttered to himself. "That is indeed troublesome."
Professor McGonagall, however, was somewhat bewildered. "Wait a moment." She raised a hand to interrupt them. "Maurise, who is this 'Death' you speak of?"
"I have no idea," Maurise shrugged. "To me, he was just an unreasonable wizard, albeit one with exceptionally strong magic."
Professor McGonagall's expression instantly turned peculiar. A wizard claiming to be Death? And he got into a duel with her student? The whole story sounded completely fabricated, if not for the very real black marks on Maurise's face.
"The identities of Death and a wizard do not conflict," Professor Binns nodded, his tone turning serious. "Maurise, I am afraid the person you encountered might truly be Death. If I am not mistaken, the curse on your face harbors the very essence of mortality. That is a power unique to Death."
Wait, what?
He was not an imposter? Then this Death had a rather underwhelming sense of style, did he not? In Maurise's understanding, shouldn't a God of Death be a divine entity governing mortality, capable of casually deciding a person's fate?
He and Professor McGonagall both looked at Professor Binns at almost the exact same time, sharing identical expressions of utter confusion.
Maurise asked, "Then how do I get rid of it?"
He touched his face and explained, "This thing is draining my life force. If left unchecked, my rough estimate is that I have about five years left to live."
"Five years?!" Professor McGonagall's face instantly went ashen. "Maurise, you..."
She stopped mid-sentence. What was she even supposed to say to that?
"Do not panic, Professor." Maurise found himself comforting her instead. "I still have plenty of time to solve this problem."
Professor McGonagall forced herself to calm down. As a Hogwarts professor, she had encountered her fair share of injured students, but this was exceptionally severe. Setting aside whether this "Death" was real or not, the curse itself was a fatal threat.
"I know a few wizards who specialize in curses," she said urgently. "They have dealt with many complex dark magic hexes. I can write to them immediately."
"I am afraid that will hardly be of use, Minerva," Professor Binns gently shook his head, interrupting her. "From my understanding, to break this kind of curse, one must rely on a power of the exact opposite nature: rebirth, creation, continuation, and hope."
Maurise looked thoughtful. "So I need to find a power that meets those conditions to counteract this curse?"
"In theory, yes," Professor Binns replied.
"Understood."
Maurise instantly felt a headache coming on. Although he had a lead, the direction was far too vague.
"Perhaps you could go ask the Headmaster," Professor Binns added.
Dumbledore? Maurise had originally planned to seek his help if Professor Binns proved unable to assist.
Professor McGonagall chimed in, "The Headmaster is not currently at the school. The International Confederation of Wizards called an emergency meeting. He just left yesterday and will not return for another week."
Consequently, Maurise took up temporary residence at Hogwarts.
During the summer holidays, Hogwarts Castle was incredibly empty. There were no students, and the professors only made sporadic appearances. Instead, the house-elves, who were rarely seen during the term, took advantage of the break to bustle about the castle. They were happily occupied with polishing armor, mopping floors, and dusting the portraits.
During this time, Maurise practically lived in the library, scouring through any material he could find on Death and curses. His findings were dismal. The curse, meanwhile, showed no signs of either worsening or fading away.
Finally, one day, Dumbledore returned.
Maurise received the news in the afternoon. Professor McGonagall sent her Patronus, a glowing silver tabby cat, to notify him.
"The Headmaster's office, now. The password is Acid Pops."
Maurise traversed the deserted corridors, gave the password to the gargoyle, rode the spiral staircase, and pushed open the office door.
Dumbledore was resting in his chair, wearing a rare black robe that seemed quite out of character for his usual flamboyant tastes.
"Hello, Professor," Maurise said.
Dumbledore slowly stood up, looking somewhat exhausted. He walked over to Maurise and spoke kindly, "Professor McGonagall has informed me of the situation. It seems you are not having a very pleasant summer vacation."
"Not at all," Maurise shrugged. "It has actually been quite nice. There was just a minor accident... well, a major accident."
"Optimism is a good trait," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "Let me see it."
Maurise raised a hand and dispelled the white bone mask. He had been wearing the thing constantly over the past few days.
Upon seeing the black pattern, however, Dumbledore instantly dropped his smile, his face growing tense.
Only after a long silence did he speak. "Maurise, who exactly were you dueling? Was it truly Death?"
Professor McGonagall had clearly relayed everything she had heard. Maurise stubbornly stuck to his own assessment.
"Perhaps it was," he replied, "but I still maintain that he was just a remarkably powerful wizard, not some God of Death."