A few days later, a reply arrived from Frick.
The letter confirmed that the bone Maurice had sent over was highly likely the leg bone of some breed of dragon. Unfortunately, due to improper preservation and the sheer passage of time, the bone had lost all its magical vitality.
Even so, Maurice decided to keep it.
He figured he could sneak back into the Forbidden Forest when he had some free time. If he found one bone, there had to be a second, a third, maybe even a whole skeleton waiting to be unearthed.
If he could eventually turn it into an undead minion, that would be the ultimate prize. But even if he could not, it would make one hell of a living room centerpiece. Just imagine having guests over. He could casually sip his tea and say, "Oh, that old thing? Just a thousand-year-old dragon skeleton. I picked up the pieces on my evening strolls through the woods back at Hogwarts."
He could already picture the absolute shock on their faces. It would be a perfect treat for his vanity.
Over the next few weeks, Maurice slipped into the Forbidden Forest a few more times. True to his theory, he uncovered more bone fragments. He even managed to piece together an almost complete right hind leg, missing only two toes.
This progress was incredibly encouraging.
However, frequent midnight strolls in the Forbidden Forest were not without their risks. The centaurs seemed to have noticed something amiss. They ramped up their night patrols, their routes becoming erratic and unpredictable.
Fortunately, thanks to his skeletal unicorn mount, the centaurs had no chance of catching him. They could not even eat his dust.
Still, Maurice decided to cut back on his forest excursions for now. Discretion was the better part of valor. He was in no rush anyway. Time was on his side.
A Tuesday, a week after the Easter holidays.
Maurice was enjoying a perfectly good buttered potato in the Great Hall for lunch when Harry and Hermione dragged Ron over to his spot.
"Help us out, Maurice. I know you're brilliant with potions," Hermione pleaded, her words tumbling out in a rush.
"Slow down," Maurice said, quickly swallowing his food. "What do you need help with... Oh. I think I see the problem."
He noticed Ron's hand. It was swollen to nearly twice its normal size and sported a sickly shade of green. Maurice drew his wand and gave the inflated appendage a gentle poke.
"Ow! Don't touch it!" Ron yelped, nearly launching himself into the ceiling from the pain.
"Do you have any potions that can fix his hand?" Harry asked, looking incredibly worried.
"Have you tried Essence of Dittany?"
"Did nothing," Ron grumbled through gritted teeth. "I think it might be poisoned."
Maurice fished a small vial from his pocket and handed it over. "This is a basic, all-purpose antidote I brewed myself. Give it a go."
Harry took it, popped the cork, and placed it in Ron's good hand.
"Drink up."
Ron frowned, but immediately threw back the clear liquid with a grimace. He smacked his lips.
"Ugh. Tastes like spoiled pumpkin juice mixed with rusty nails."
He stared at his swollen hand with eager anticipation, but the swelling did not go down. The stinging pain remained just as fierce.
Absolutely useless.
Maurice stayed completely silent. He reached into his pocket, pulled out an identical vial, and offered it to them.
Ron blinked at it.
"Was the dosage not high enough?"
"No," Maurice replied, shaking his head slowly. "It's a topical ointment. You're supposed to rub it on the skin."
The air went dead silent.
Ron's expression contorted into something truly spectacular as he felt his stomach do an uneasy flip.
Hermione face-palmed with a heavy sigh.
"Are there going to be side effects from him drinking it?"
Maurice shrugged casually.
"According to my own tests, no." He had tasted it himself out of sheer curiosity, after all.
Harry hurriedly helped Ron apply the second vial of antidote the correct way.
"Still no obvious effect," Maurice noted, closely observing Ron's hand. The sickly green hue had merely faded a fraction. "This isn't just a simple poison. There's some residual magic at work here."
He looked up, genuinely curious. "What exactly bit you? A fully grown Acromantula?"
The trio exchanged nervous glances, conducting a frantic, silent debate. Finally, Harry leaned in close to Maurice's ear and whispered, "It was a dragon."
Maurice blinked. That was the last answer he expected. In his mind, the odds of Ron being bitten by Professor Quirrell were higher than him being bitten by an actual dragon.
"Where on earth did you find a dragon?" he asked, utterly bewildered.
"Keep your voice down... Hagrid got a dragon egg," Hermione whispered back. "He hatched it recently, and Ron accidentally got nipped."
"Ah, a baby dragon. Makes sense," Maurice murmured, shaking his head with a hint of pity.
Ron held up his throbbing, giant hand.
"Forget where the dragon came from, Maurice! What am I supposed to do?"
"If you rely on my antidote," Maurice estimated, "it will probably take half a month for the swelling to go down. I highly recommend paying Madam Pomfrey a visit. She's the actual professional here."
"Guess I have to," Ron sighed miserably. "If my hand stays like this, I won't be able to hold a quill for revision."
Hermione frowned disapprovingly. "I told you to start your final revisions ages ago, Ron."
Ron rolled his eyes, ignoring her completely.
"I'm heading to the hospital wing. Don't worry about me. Just explain things to the professors in class later."
Harry nodded. Once Ron had shuffled off with his injured hand cradled to his chest, Harry and Hermione let out a collective sigh of relief. It could have been worse.
Maurice leaned forward. "Any chance you could take me to see this dragon? I'm highly interested."
"I had a feeling you'd say that," Harry laughed softly. "I'll ask Hagrid for you. It is his dragon, after all."
For Maurice, even a newly hatched dragon was incredibly enticing. The chance to see a living dragon up close was far too rare to pass up. Plus, he had a little theory brewing in his mind, one that required a live specimen to test.
Two days later, during their lunch break, Maurice followed Harry and Hermione down to Hagrid's hut.
"Come on in!" Hagrid bellowed, throwing the door open.
Because Harry had given him a heads-up, Hagrid was not surprised by Maurice's arrival. In fact, he looked thrilled. To the giant of a man, showing off his new pet was a joyous occasion. Provided, of course, the guest knew how to keep a secret.
Maurice stepped inside and immediately realized he had nowhere to stand. The floor was completely covered in empty brandy bottles and scattered chicken feathers.
His eyes quickly found the source of the mess: a scaly, pitch-black baby dragon curled up in the corner, happily gnawing on a long piece of firewood.
"Norbert just finished dismantling my favorite chair," Hagrid said proudly. "Look at him! What a lively little fellow!"
Harry stared in shock. "He's twice the size he was the last time we saw him!"
"Aye, that he is," Hagrid beamed. "I've been feeding him plenty of brandy. Really helps him grow big and strong."
Maurice took a step closer to the baby dragon named Norbert, his mind spinning with possibilities.