Maurise watched Harry's explosive speed and nodded in satisfaction.
He had always been a fast worker. In just over two months, he had already produced a finished prototype. The Firebolt utilized goblin technology, while his broom boasted mysterious runic magic straight out of Book of the Magi. In terms of pure speed, this new creation had undoubtedly surpassed the legendary Firebolt.
After all, the symbol he had carved onto the broom the most was the "Haste" rune. These runes had been intricately layered over a dozen times.
Whoosh!
Harry streaked past overhead, leaving behind a sharp, whistling gust of air.
Look at the boy, flying so happily. Maurise could not help but smile. The test was a complete success.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was equally thrilled. Wood tilted his head back, trembling with sheer excitement. "Did you see that? Harry! Good heavens! What in the world is happening?"
He was stumbling over his words. If Harry could maintain this exact speed during an official match, Slytherin would absolutely lose.
However, up in the sky, Harry was not having a good time at all.
He had just realized that he had absolutely no control over the flying broom beneath him. Even making a simple turn felt practically impossible. The oncoming gale slammed into his face like a solid brick wall, forcing him to keep his eyes tightly shut. He tried to veer off course, but the broom only shifted its trajectory slightly before continuing its relentless forward charge.
No, this was not working.
Harry shouted out in panic, "Maurise, help! I can not..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the broom suddenly dipped. It acted as if something massive had grabbed its tail, sending it into a frantic spin without losing a single ounce of momentum.
Maurise squinted at the dark speck in the sky and turned to Wood. "What kind of Quidditch maneuver is that? The Death Roll?" He was quite certain he could never pull off a stunt like that.
"I have no idea," Wood replied blankly.
"Er, Maurise," Fred swallowed hard, his face turning a shade paler. "I think he might have lost control."
Maurise looked up for another two seconds. Yes, that made perfect sense. Harry had entered a steep dive, plummeting toward the ground like a shooting star. Faint, terrified screams drifted down from the sky, growing louder by the second.
"Maur... ise...!"
Maurise did not panic. He calmly drew his wand and gave it a gentle flick toward the boy, who was mere moments away from kissing the dirt. A split second later, an invisible force intercepted Harry mid-air, freezing him safely less than ten feet above the ground.
The broom, however, plunged straight into the muddy pitch like a javelin.
"Merlin's beard." Wood wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his legs feeling a bit like jelly. Losing his Seeker right now would be an absolute disaster. Realistically speaking, without Harry, their chances of defeating Slytherin were practically zero.
"He is not hurt!" Fred shouted after peering toward the crash site.
"Of course not," Maurise shrugged. "I am here, after all."
---
The group hurried down from the stands and gathered around Harry. The boy was still suspended in mid-air, looking rather comical.
"Put me down," he mumbled weakly. "I am fine."
"How does the new broom feel?" Maurise asked as he waved his wand to lower Harry gently to the grass. Since he rarely rode flying brooms himself, the Seeker's expert feedback was incredibly valuable.
The moment his feet touched the earth, Harry's knees buckled, and he dropped straight onto the pitch. Fred and George quickly flanked him, hoisting him up by his arms. He looked up at Maurise, lingering fear still evident in his eyes.
"I felt like I was kidnapped by a flying stick instead of riding a broom. Your prototype is completely unacceptable, Maurise."
"Is that so?" Maurise stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Is it still not fast enough?"
Harry was left completely speechless. He had the distinct feeling that Maurise had not listened to a single word he had said. Taking a deep breath, he spoke earnestly, "It is not an issue of speed. It is just completely impossible to steer."
"Alright then." Maurise nodded thoughtfully.
Truth be told, he had struggled quite a bit when testing the broom himself. It turned out it was not just a problem with his own flying skills. If even a seasoned Quidditch expert like Harry could not control it properly, the design was flawed. Sometimes, being blindingly fast was not necessarily a good thing. It clearly needed more improvements.
Fred stepped forward and pulled the embedded broom out of the dirt. He inspected it closely and found it completely intact, without a single scratch on its surface.
"It is very sturdy," he noted curiously. "Where did you get this broom?"
"I made it myself," Maurise replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A stunned silence fell over the group. This was a broom capable of catching up to a Firebolt! Was he joking?
Maurise stepped closer and patted Harry on the shoulder, a hint of genuine apology in his tone. "Sorry for the trouble, Harry. I will come find you to test the broom again in a while. It should handle much better by then. Once the tuning is fully finished, I will give you one as a gift. Trust me, it will outclass the Firebolt."
Seeing Maurise's absolute confidence, Harry was just about to speak when Fred suddenly leaned in. He tapped the handle of the broom in his hand and frowned.
"Wait a minute. Is this broom made of wood? It feels a bit odd."
"It is indeed not wood," Maurise admitted frankly. "It is bone."
He had pieced the main body of the broom together using discarded animal bones. Carving magical runes into such material felt much more natural and effective to him.
Hearing this revelation, no one present felt particularly surprised. Everyone at Hogwarts knew that Maurise was an absolute fanatic when it came to bones. The skeletons he usually associated with had left an incredibly deep impression on the student body.
"I could never make a broom like this," Fred sighed with admiration, handing the skeletal construct back to Maurise. Even though it had nearly sent Harry to an early grave, it was still the most mechanically impressive broom he had ever seen. Regardless of its handling flaws, speed was always the top priority for a flying broom, especially in a competitive Quidditch match.
"We are athletes. We do not need to know how to make brooms." Wood's commanding voice rang out from the side, having fully regained his captain's composure. "Come on, let us get back to practice. We have wasted enough time already."
He clapped his hands loudly, trying to draw everyone's attention back to the pitch. "Harry, can you still fly? If you need to take a rest..."
Harry gave a firm nod. "I can fly." Even though his legs still felt a bit weak, he did not want to hold up the team's training schedule.
"Then I will not interrupt you any longer," Maurise smiled slightly. "Goodbye."
His objective had been achieved, and there was no reason to linger.
After Maurise departed, Harry mounted his Firebolt once more, kicked off the ground, and slowly ascended into the sky. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but after flying a few laps, he felt that his beloved Firebolt was not quite as fast as it used to be.
Returning to his workspace inside the Ship in a Bottle, Maurise tossed the newly tested broom onto his cluttered desk. Leaning against the nearby wall were five or six brooms of a similar skeletal design, all prototypes from his recent runic experiments.
The one he had brought for Harry to test was simply the most complete version yet. Speed was no longer an issue; now, he needed to make it entirely controllable.
"Let us try integrating the 'Balance' rune..." Maurise muttered to himself, immediately diving back into his magical modifications.