"No wonder magical Britain has remained stagnant for centuries while the rest of the world moves forward," Maverick said as Lord Greengrass finished speaking. "Clinging to outdated traditions, trapped in the same petty conflicts."

  Lord Greengrass frowned. "I am not sure I follow."

  Maverick met his gaze. "You said it yourself—one side is corrupt, and the other is so self-righteous that they refuse to acknowledge anything useful the corrupt faction proposes. Even when an idea could benefit the community, they bury it out of sheer stubbornness. It is not about what is right or wrong... it is about ego... That is why nothing ever changes." He let out a scoff. "Tell me, Lord Greengrass, how can anything progress when both sides refuse to cooperate?"

  Lord Greengrass exhaled while nodding slightly, seemingly agreeing with what had been said. But his next words made the man's face darken like the bottom of a burnt pot.

  "And then there is your so-called neutral faction. You sit between these two sides, watching them tear each other down, but what have you done to change anything?"

  Lord Greengrass blinked at a loss for words. How had everything ended up becoming the fault of his faction?

  Maverick continued without paying any mind to the man's expression. "You claim neutrality, but all you have done is maintain a deadlock. You keep the balance, but a balance between what? Corruption and self-righteousness? Stagnation and infighting?"

  Lord Greengrass's face darkened more with every word Maverick spoke. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

  "I am saying exactly what it sounds like," Maverick answered without hesitation.

  Lord Greengrass did not back down. "You speak as if we have another option," he said firmly. "Let me remind you again... we do not have a powerful backer like the other factions. Dumbledore's faction has him, his title as an Archmage. The nobles have their Great Magi, their ancient bloodlines, and their wealth. What do we have?"

  "Wealth? Yes, but they have more. Ancient bloodlines? So do they. Influence? A handful of Wizengamot seats, nothing more. That is not enough to compete with real power."

  Maverick let out a short laugh. "And you expect me to believe that in all these decades, not a single Great Magus shared your ideals? Or rather, not one talented wizard could have been nurtured by you?" He shook his head, unimpressed. "This isn't about a lack of opportunity—it's a failure to act..."

  Lord Greengrass remained silent. There was nothing he could say.

  Maverick pressed his point more. "The nobles and Dumbledore allow your faction to exist because you're useful. You keep the scales from tipping too far in either direction. But that is all you are... a tool to maintain the status quo. You are not a force of your own. Frankly, you do not hold any real power."

  He leaned forward. "So tell me, Lord Greengrass... how long do you think you can stay useful before they decide they no longer need you?"

  A shadow crossed the older man's face. He had no answer, and a heavy silence filled the room as he struggled to process everything that had been said.

  Finally, he let out a long exhale and sank deeper into his chair, as if he had pieced something together. "Since you have taken the time to so thoroughly expose the flaws we have ignored, I assume you have a solution." His voice remained measured, but there was a clear sense of caution. "I believe I understand now why you came here—and what this so-called deal of yours truly is."

  Maverick leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Yes."

  Lord Greengrass studied him, searching his face for any sign of deception. "Are you offering to be our backer?"

  Maverick shook his head. "No, Lord Greengrass. I do not want to be your backer. I want to be your leader." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable finality in his tone. "If I am going to raise your faction above the others, I demand absolute obedience. No divided loyalties, no hesitation. You will be my spokesperson, and you will make your lords fall in line."

  A flicker of disbelief crossed Lord Greengrass's face. "You... do not bother with pretense, do you?"

  "I am not here to play house of cards, Lord Greengrass. I am here to tear it down and build something unshakable."

  "I see..." Lord Greengrass murmured. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest. "And you expect the lords of my faction to submit without resistance? To abandon the neutrality that has safeguarded us for generations?"

  Maverick met his gaze without wavering. "I expect them to recognize an opportunity." He leaned forward, his voice steady and deliberate. "Neutrality has not protected you—it has made you weak. But I am offering you something neither Dumbledore nor the noble faction ever would. Power."

  Lord Greengrass narrowed his eyes. "And you believe you can give us that?"

  Maverick exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Not believe. I can give you power." His expression turned colder. "I can ensure that any side that dares to oppose you stops before they ever become a threat. I can give you influence, real influence, not just a few Wizengamot seats with no real weight behind them." His eyes locked onto Lord Greengrass. "This is a win-win for you. You keep your noble status, your wealth grows, and your faction finally becomes relevant. All I demand in return is obedience."

  He paused before adding, "Besides, you must be aware of the Hogwarts headmaster's condition."

  Lord Greengrass raised an eyebrow. "I have heard rumors… but nothing confirmed. Are you telling me they are true?"

  Maverick nodded. "Four, maybe five years. Unless he finds a cure, his days are numbered. That is why Fudge and the nobles who put him in power have been growing bolder—discriminating against Muggle-borns outright, as if we are still living in the Middle Ages."

  He leaned forward slightly. "If that old man were to pass, I have no doubt this country would take a thousand steps backward."

  "Dumbledore may be an obstacle to progress because of his stubborn ideals, but there is no denying that he is the only reason the backward nobles are kept in check."

  "But regardless of whether Dumbledore finds a cure or not, I intend to clean out this country's magical hierarchy—him included. The nobles, the Ministry, and the old ways that keep us shackled. All of it."

  ....

  Lord Greengrass studied him carefully, as if he were looking at a madman. He had doubts—of course he did. Whether Maverick was an Archmage or not, pulling off something of this scale in a few years was beyond reckless.

  If Maverick had presented a long-term strategy, a roadmap spanning a decade or more, it would have been more believable. But within just a few years, before the only other Archmage in the country supposedly died? That was hard to believe.

  Brute force was always an option—eliminate those in the way and seize power. He could have simply crushed anyone in his way, but that would be the fastest way for the world to brand him a Dark Lord. But he did not believe a dignified master alchemist, a Hogwarts professor, and the student of another Archmage would resort to such crude methods and tarnish his own image.

  If this young man had no plan beyond raw power, then there was no reason for this conversation in the first place. Yet here he was, sitting across from him, negotiating—well, sort of. Either way, it meant he sought something more than mere domination.

  And yet, if he did manage to succeed, and if Greengrass aligned himself with him—no, submitted to him—the benefits would be undeniable.

  However one question still nagged at him. Why?

  What could this young man possibly gain? He was already an Arch-Magus, standing at the peak of magical power. He was building a successful business, ensuring he would never lack wealth. As a master alchemist, he commanded influence few could ignore. So what benefit was there in seizing control of a country's leadership?

  And more importantly, why did it feel like he was in a hurry—like something big was coming?

  He exhaled slowly. If he was going to step onto this ship, he needed to know where it was heading.

  "Everything you have said makes sense. But why the urgency? If I am to submit to you, at least tell me—what do you stand to gain from all of this?"

  Maverick met his gaze, unbothered by the scrutiny. The old man was sharp, but he was not outright rejecting him. That was a start. And there was no point in hiding the truth.

  "Are you aware that, at the rate Muggles are advancing, the Statute of Secrecy will not remain a secret much longer?"

  Lord Greengrass frowned slightly. The Statute of Secrecy? How had the conversation veered into something so seemingly unrelated?

  Maverick chuckled at Lord Greengrass's confusion. He leaned back in his chair with a smirk, then raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The air around them rippled and the illusion spell took shape, displaying images unfamiliar to any wizard who had not studied the Muggle world.

  "This is a satellite," he said as a metal construct appeared, floating against a backdrop of stars. "Muggles use these to monitor the planet from space. They can see cities, forests, even people from miles above. Right now, they are not looking for us. But they could."

  The image shifted, showing a group of people staring at glowing screens, tracking movements in real-time.

  "They have cameras everywhere. On streets, inside shops, even in their homes. Some can zoom in from miles away, capturing the smallest details. The Muggle world is no longer blind. They record everything."

  The illusion changed again, showing a bustling cityscape at night, the streets flooded with light. Then, it zoomed in, highlighting a small group of wizards Apparating into an alley. A second later, a security camera's red light blinked in the corner.

  "How long before they start noticing inconsistencies? How long before one of their machines records something magic cannot erase?"

  Lord Greengrass watched the display with a deepening frown.

  "The ICW has dealt with breaches before," he countered. "That is what the Obliviators are for."

  Maverick let out a short laugh. "And how long before the Obliviators can no longer keep up? Look at the sheer scale of the Muggle world. Nearly eight billion people, and soon, more than half of them will walk around with these—" he snapped his fingers, conjuring the image of a sleek, rectangular device.

  Lord Greengrass studied it warily. "A Muggle artifact?"

  "A smartphone," Maverick corrected. "A device that records, communicates, and instantly shares information across the world. It is not perfect yet, but in less than a decade, it will be. I know this because my business in the Muggle world is also involved in its development."

  Lord Greengrass raised a brow.

  "My point is," Maverick continued, "if even one person captures undeniable proof of magic and uploads it, millions will see it before the Obliviators can react. And it will not stop there. Muggles document everything. They analyze, investigate, and spread information faster than wizards can ever hope to control."

  The illusion changed again, showing news reporters discussing a strange event, scientists dissecting footage, and government officials debating in a large hall.

  "Once the Muggles know we exist, they will not just accept it and move on. Some will panic. Some will try to expose more. Some will want to control us.

  Of course, they cannot. In reality, Muggle governments already know about our world, and there is an agreement in place. But that does not mean every scientist or ambitious fool will abide by those rules. Just like the Muggle mutants, wizards will become their next obsession... anomalies to be studied, weapons to be controlled.

  And when that happens, conflict will be inevitable. The moment our world is forced into the light, everything changes."

  The illusion faded, leaving only the dim glow of the fireplace between them. Lord Greengrass sat frozen, his face changing through shock, fear, and disbelief as he processed what he had just seen.

  Maverick watched him closely. "You think I am wrong?"

  The older wizard shook his head after a while, but his voice was quieter now. "I think I have never considered how close we truly are to the edge."

  Lord Greengrass raised his head and met Maverick's gaze. "I understand. If that day comes and this country's leadership remains as it is, I don't need to spell out the chaos that would follow. It would be two extremes colliding."

  He paused, then hummed, as if piecing together Maverick's true intentions. "So your plan is to take control of the country's leadership and prepare for it? To educate the public beforehand, soften the impact, and prevent disaster?"

  Maverick let out a low laugh, making the old wizard frown in confusion. He shook his head. "You are right. I will educate the public. In fact, I've already started with the children of Hogwarts. And when I have enough influence over this country's leadership, I will begin educating broader, teaching the wizarding community as a whole about Muggles and their science."

  He paused. His voice turned icy cold. "But."

  Lord Greengrass stiffened as he felt the shift in tone.

  "I have no intention of waiting for the Statute of Secrecy to collapse because of some accident."

  The older wizard's eyes widened. "You mean—"

  "Yes," Maverick said without hesitation.

  "You're... mad," Greengrass muttered, unable to hold back the words.

  —————————

  Lord Greengrass took a slow breath as his mind raced to make sense of what he had just heard.

  Breaking the Statute of Secrecy? The last person who had tried to do such a thing was now locked away, their name erased from polite conversation, and branded the first Dark Lord of this generation.

  Now, granted, that person's ambitions had extended far beyond mere exposure, but still…

  Lord Greengrass pushed the thoughts aside and steadied himself. He studied the boy—no, calling him a boy would be a blatant insult. He carefully observed the young man, searching for any trace of fanaticism—the kind that often burned in the eyes of those who aimed too high, who convinced themselves they could change the world only to be crushed by the weight of their own ambition.

  But he saw none of that. Maverick Caesar looked calm and certain. He was collected, measured—far too steady for someone planning something so... mad.

  He straightened and forced himself to stay calm. The shock on his face gradually faded, but the implications of the words he had just heard were too great to ignore.

  If this young man was serious and somehow managed to achieve it, everything would change. Governments, economies, nobles, civilians—all the magical communities and their way of life. It would upend the order of the world.

  And with great change comes great opportunities.

  Curiosity flickered in the old patriarch's heart. Unbeknownst to him, it was he who, in the end, sowed the seeds of fanaticism in his eyes.

  Meanwhile, Maverick sat in silence, allowing Lord Greengrass to sort out his thoughts. At the same time, he was reading the man's surface thoughts and couldn't help but smirk inwardly. Of course, he showed no reaction on his face, maintaining a blank and unreadable expression.

  Silence stretched between them for a moment until Lord Greengrass finally spoke his mind.

  "Let's say I accept this… the inevitability you speak of. And let's say I agree that it would be wiser for the magical community to take control of how the Statute of Secrecy falls rather than wait for it to crumble on its own," he said, trying to sound calm—and doing so quite capably, though not enough to fool Maverick.

  "How do you intend to make it happen? Can you elaborate on your plan, if you don't mind... Master Caesar?"

  Maverick finally showed a change in expression. A knowing smile tugged at his lips and he began to lay out his roadmap to the old wizard.

  ---

  "I have already begun making preparations," he said. "The first step is controlling the narrative."

  Lord Greengrass remained silent, listening carefully.

  "You are familiar with my company's latest product, Magic Vision?"

  Lord Greengrass gave a slow nod. "A fascinating piece of magical innovation, though it is not widely used yet."

  "And how much do you know about Muggle television?" Maverick asked.

  Lord Greengrass hummed in thought.

  "I am not entirely ignorant of Muggle inventions. I know a fair bit about some of their artifacts—what they call a radio, their handheld communication devices… and, of course, the television."

  He paused briefly, considering his words. "I understand that it is a device for displaying moving pictures, and the Muggles use it primarily to share information..."

  He exhaled slowly. "Its influence on their society is… significant, to say the least."

  Maverick gave a satisfied nod.

  "That is one of the reasons I chose to approach you, Lord Greengrass. You are not blinded by tradition... ignore the vast world around you simply because it is different."

  He leaned back slightly. "But you have overlooked its true potential. Television is not merely a means of sharing information—it is a tool for influencing minds, shaping perspectives, and, when needed, controlling the narrative."

  "And I intend to use Magic Vision the same way Muggles use television. The first step is making it popular, and what better way to do that than by broadcasting something people always crave?"

  He let the question hang for a moment before answering it himself.

  "Sports... or rather, entertainment. It is a passion for everyone, magical and non-magical alike. Unfortunately for us magicals, there are not many sources for it.

  With magic taking care of most inconveniences, the magicals have an abundance of free time. And with the ease of Magic Vision, they will naturally turn to it. And eventually, it will become part of their routine, something they crave."

  Greengrass raised an eyebrow.

  "You should be aware that I have already begun using Magic Vision to broadcast the interschool Quidditch tournament to magical communities across Europe," Maverick continued. "This is only the beginning. Soon, it will cover national and international matches, drawing in even those who rarely paid attention to the sport. And once it becomes a fixture in their daily lives, it will no longer be a novelty—it will be a necessity."

  Lord Greengrass's fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair as he weighed the possibilities.

  "And then," Maverick continued, "I will establish the first-ever video journalism company in the magical world. My people are already being trained—not just in management but in the technical skills needed to operate such a business. They are learning everything, from running broadcasts to producing news segments..."

  He let that sink in before adding, "With control of the media, I control the flow of information. I decide what the people see, what they know, and how they think."

  Greengrass narrowed his eyes. "You want to control the people's narrative?"

  Maverick met his gaze without hesitation. "Exactly."

  The older wizard remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "It is nothing new. The corrupt factions within this country's leadership have been doing it for years."

  "I know that. Anyone with a brain knows that. But what can the general public do? Even Dumbledore knows it. But once again, he is too idealistic—too unwilling to play the game of power."

  Lord Greengrass sighed. He could not deny the truth in those words.

  Maverick went on. "And I won't stop there. One platform isn't enough. I'll establish my own newspaper—well-funded, independent, and free from Ministry control or the influence of old families. A publication that reaches both the common wizard and the elite..."

  "There will be pushback. The noble families will not take kindly to it. They may not be able to move against you directly, but there are always... other means. The people running it could find themselves in unfortunate circumstances. Dirty tactics are never off the table." Lord Greengrass added, as if he had seen such tactics play out many times before.

  Maverick huffed. "Then I will make an example of the first who tries. A clear lesson... one severe enough that the rest will think twice before following."

  Lord Greengrass raised an eyebrow but chose not to comment.

  Maverick continued. "And while all of that is set into motion, I will be slowly positioning my own people within the Ministry. You understand how that world operates, Lord Greengrass. Influence isn't just earned... it can also be bought... leveraged. And I have more gold than most can even fathom."

  Lord Greengrass raised a brow again. "From a business that has only just begun to spread?" he asked skeptically.

  Maverick smirked. "Two Great-Magus have quite generously donated all of their wealth to me…" he said, crossing his fingers while resting both elbows on the chair's armrests, his hands coming together in a relaxed but deliberate gesture. "One about a year ago. You must have heard of Victor Morvain…"

  He continued without pause."And the second? Well, we both saw him just days ago at the dueling competition. Tarhan, was it?"

  It took Lord Greengrass a moment to grasp the full meaning of Maverick's words. Then his eyes widened, and he nearly shot from his seat. "You… you're that—Bloodyraven?"

  Maverick's brow twitched. "It's Blood... Raven."

  "What?"

  "Bloodraven," Maverick corrected, exhaling silently as he leaned back before continuing. "As I was saying… their centuries of amassed wealth now belongs to me. Along with their many legal and less-than-legal ventures that continuously generate wealth."

  But Lord Greengrass still seemed caught up in the revelation of Maverick's other identity. He sank back into his chair, and then, after a moment of hesitation asked. "What about Lord Tarhan… is he now—"

  "Dust," Maverick cut in, utterly unconcerned. "Along with that prick who dared to stare at my fiancée... Besides, even if I hadn't, my teacher would have erased them the moment he found out. I simply made it happen only sooner."

  Finally, Lord Greengrass let out a sigh. He realized now that this young man, seemingly just a harmless businessman, was anything but. This young man was dangerous.

  His mind reeled. This was not a simple ship he was about to board. This was a warship sailing into some very treacherous waters.

  But what choice did he have? He couldn't back out now—not after learning everything, not after hearing all the shocking secrets. No, he was part of this now. Whether he liked it or not, he was already aboard, and the ship had set sail.

  He let out a dejected sigh and then raised his head to look at the young man, who was sitting so utterly at ease, as if everything about this very meeting was happening exactly according to his script. He couldn't help but swallow, but then, he forced himself to push down his unease.

  "Go ahead, Master Caesar... continue," he said finally.

  Maverick's smirk grew wider. "As I was saying, Lord Greengrass… Gold opens doors. It secures alliances and silences opposition. Put the right people in the right positions..."

  He leaned forward.

  "This is how I plan to take control of this country's leadership before the Statute of Secrecy falls… Of course, I will be the one guiding how and when it falls. And when the time comes, I will not be caught unprepared..."

  ---

  Lord Greengrass sat in thoughtful silence, and a tense stillness once again settled over the room. Finally, he voiced the last bit that weighed on his mind. It was not his final doubt, but he had at least grasped the broad outline of this young man's plan, even if the finer details were still unclear.

  He exhaled slowly and said. "How exactly, do you intend to make the Statute of Secrecy fall?"

  Maverick smiled, slow and deliberate, before leaning back into his chair. Instead of answering, he posed a question of his own. "Tell me, Lord Greengrass… What do you know about Voldemort's fall?"

  Lord Greengrass frowned, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. "Voldemort?" While muttering, he studied the young man's expression but found no sign that he was steering the conversation away from its original course.

  So, he answered with what he knew. "I know what everyone knows. He died some eleven years ago… That boy, the Potter orphan, somehow survived the Killing Curse, and the Dark Lord perished in the attempt."

  His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you ask?"

  Maverick's smirk deepened. "He is not dead."

  Silence fell again, and Lord Greengrass visibly stiffened upon hearing that. "What are you saying?"

  "He is alive," Maverick stated calmly. "Not as a ghost, not as a man… but alive. And he will return. Whole."

  "What!" Lord Greengrass shot forward in his seat. "How sure are you about this?"

  Maverick pulsed his magic through the room, pressing it down on the older man, forcing him to slump back into his chair. "Calm yourself," he said coldly.

  But then, his smile returned as if nothing happened. "I will not stop him. Not until he is fully revived," he said.

  Lord Greengrass felt the blood drain from his face. "You're mad," he said, almost breathless. "Why? Why would you let that lunatic return? Do you have any idea how dangerous an insane Archmage-level wizard is?"

  Maverick's gaze turned sharp. "Because I need him alive. Voldemort will be the one who helps me break the Statute of Secrecy."

  Lord Greengrass was left speechless. His mind worked overtime, struggling at the sheer audacity of this young man's plan. But now, he finally, finally understood everything.

  Control the people's narrative. Control the Ministry by planting his own people, bribing officials, or outright buying their loyalty. And with his so-called neutral faction, take control of the Wizengamot itself.

  And then, finally, use Voldemort to unleash chaos—forcing the magical world into the eyes of regular humans. But just before true disaster could strike, this young man would somehow bring him down, emerging as the hero.

  Whether such a plan could truly succeed was another matter entirely. Yes, Maverick was an Archmage—but so was Voldemort. Would it really be so simple to bring down another of the same level?

  Still, it was a plan. A dangerous one. One that could work… or fail spectacularly.

  Lord Greengrass wasn't sure whether to call him a genius or something else entirely.

  Seconds stretched before he finally found his voice, and the words had once again escaped before he could stop them—more fitting now more than ever for the man before him.

  "You're… a madman."

  —————————

  Lord Greengrass rubbed his temple.

  He had expected tonight to be a simple discussion about a business partnership or an opportunity for his family. But he never imagined that instead, he would find himself entangled in a conspiracy—one so staggering in scale that it aimed to reshape everything, the very fabric of the wizarding world itself.

  He let out a sigh and looked up at the young man, and saw not an ounce of doubt in his eyes. He just sat there, perfectly at ease, as if he had just outlined a simple business expansion rather than the controlled collapse of an entire society.

  Was this just another power-hungry fool like Grindelwald and Voldemort—whom, once they gained power, believed they could change everything simply because they wanted to?

  Or was this young man truly a visionary?

  Either way, did he have the choice to walk away? He thought not. He didn't even want to find out. But there were some things he needed to know now.

  "All of it..." he finally asked. "It all hinges on whether or not you can take that lunatic down... after he, supposedly, resurrects. How certain are you that you can kill him..."

  "As certain as I am of ending you right here and now, if I wanted to."

  Lord Greengrass squirmed uncomfortably at the chilling response, but at least it sounded more confident, so he pressed on with his next concern.

  "And what about the consequences of his resurrection? Civilian casualties... something I'm certain that madman will cause. Surely you don't expect him to come and engage you in some civilized duel for all to see?"

  Maverick let out a low exhale. Lord Greengrass wasn't wrong about that last bit.

  First of all, Maverick was certain he could end Voldemort without much effort by the time he resurrected, and it wasn't because he would be on par with the Dark Lord in rank, or due to Maverick's superior control over magic, or even his unique Archmage ability.

  No, he was confident—now more than ever—because of his recent discovery about the system's new capability. The Extraordinary Characteristics not only allowed him to copy unique magical powers, but also to replicate abilities outside of magic, including extraordinary powers from the many high-level items and technologies from the Marvel universe.

  And there are so many he could choose from that would make him uniquely overpowered, capable of bringing an instant end to someone at the level of Voldemort.

  But that still didn't mean Voldemort wouldn't harm innocent people after his resurrection. The Dark Lord, with his twisted, racist nature, would surely cause chaos. Unless, of course, Maverick could execute the plan he had in mind—one that would allow him to achieve his goals without any innocent lives being lost.

  He turned to the old wizard, who was waiting expectantly for an answer. He took a breath, then began to explain the final phase of his plan.

  ---

  Time passed slowly, each minute stretching longer than the last, and it took Maverick over an hour to lay out the entire plan. During which time, Lord Greengrass's expression had under gone through a spectrum of emotions.

  He was initially shocked, and as the explanation continued, the shock gradually turned to disbelief.

  The audacity of the plan was staggering, and at times, he wondered if Maverick was simply telling an elaborate fantasy. But after hearing the plan in its entirety, it became clear that this young man had considered every angle, every possibility, and had thought it through meticulously.

  It was clearly not something one could come up with on a whim.

  By the end of the long recounting, Lord Greengrass was both amazed and horrified. Maverick's plan would reduce the terrifying Dark Lord to nothing more than a pawn. Voldemort's resurrection, along with his subsequent actions, would all serve as pieces in a grand scheme to expose magic to the world.

  It was a bold, dangerous move, and Greengrass couldn't help but marvel at the sheer audacity of it—so much so that he almost felt pity for the Dark Lord. Almost.

  And then, as the pieces fell into place, a sense of relief also washed over him. If all went according to plan—and that was a big "if"—Voldemort would be dead, no innocent lives would be lost, and the world would finally learn the truth about magic. The ultimate goal of tearing down the Statute of Secrecy would be achieved.

  And most importantly, he, the Greengrasses family and his allies would be in control of the British magical government.

  Yes, there would be unrest, of course. After all, a thousand-year-old system wouldn't crumble without a fight, and there would certainly be chaos in the beginning. But Lord Greengrass could see the potential.

  They would be able to manage it, control it, and guide it in the right direction—into a new world full of opportunities, where their kind would no longer be forced to hide in the shadows.

  The thought settled in Greengrass's mind as he looked at Maverick, a mix of awe and cautious optimism crossing his face. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

  Maverick met his gaze without hesitation. "It's the only way for everything to look like a series of coincidences. I don't mind my actions behind the scenes being exposed later, once everything has settled, after both worlds—the magical and the non-magical—have integrated into one."

  He paused, then added, "But in the initial stages, when there's unrest everywhere in the magical communities, I don't want all the attention on me, with everyone targeting me as the cause of it. It would affect my family... and that's one of the main reasons I chose Voldemort to be the scapegoat."

  Lord Greengrass nodded in understanding. "Very well..." he said, then paused before asking, "What happens after that? I mean, are you truly certain that the two worlds can integrate into one?"

  Maverick leaned back and exhaled slowly. "Yes," he said firmly. "They have to. Because this world will soon face far more terrifying forces, forces that will make Voldemort seem insignificant. Forces that will seek to outright destroy it. And when that happens, there will be no room for infighting."

  "The magical and non-magical sides would have to work together. And that, ultimately, is why I am tearing down the Statute of Secrecy. If it all happens suddenly, the consequences would be unimaginable."

  "Wait, what are you on about now? What forces—" Lord Greengrass asked, but he was cut off with a raised hand from Maverick.

  "You don't need to know now. In due time, I'll explain. For now, let's get back to our initial topic." Maverick narrowed his eyes.

  Lord Greengrass sighed. Once again, this young man had blurted out some inexplicable things that made no sense to him. And this time, it seemed there would be no explanations forthcoming.

  He took a moment to gather his thoughts. It was time to make his stance clear. But, truth be told, he had little choice. There was no way he would be left alone after all that talk. At least an Obliviate was guaranteed, but he wasn't going to actively ask for one.

  Besides, submitting to this man—possibly the youngest Archmage ever to live, the youngest Master Alchemist ever to live—who, judging from what he had managed to figure out about him until now, was not an outright villain, didn't sound like such a bad idea.

  And the advantages to him and his family appeared immense, provided everything fell into place.

  Finally, he raised his wand and spoke the oath of submission, and Mother Magic became the holder of the contract.

  ...

  The long, drawn-out meeting had lasted for hours, and by the time Maverick left the Greengrass estate, it was almost midnight. But before leaving, he gave the older man some crucial instructions regarding the immediate actions he needed to take.

  One of these instructions was to get the key members of his faction in line, and start working to gradually secure more power within the Ministry.

  And as a gesture of support, Maverick also provided him with a considerable sum of gold—enough to make even the old patriarch of the ancient family blink in surprise.

  Along with the gold, he gave the older man a special ring he had crafted, similar to his own. This ring would allow Lord Greengrass to summon him should the need arise.

  Before leaving, Maverick made one last demand. He ordered the man to keep everything discussed in the meeting a secret, compelling him to take a second, far more intricate magical oath. The oath carried severe consequences set by magic itself, along with a stern personal warning from him to never break his word.

  ...

  Time passed swiftly, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the last week of snowy December came to an end. For Maverick, the days drifted by quietly.

  Between Christmas and the week after New Year's, Maverick found comfort in Isabella's company, enjoying the peace that came with spending time together. And the time he wasn't with her was spent with family, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of home.

  It was a brief moment of peace, one that he treasured, knowing that soon the demands of school and the challenges ahead would pull him back into the whirlwind of his responsibilities.

  —————————

  Author's Note:

  I may have gotten a little carried away with the explanations in this arc. I couldn't help it, guys. It was tough getting everything that was in my head out!

  For the plans I have in mind, I needed Maverick to get his claws into the Ministry of Magic sooner rather than later, and the Greengrass family was the way to do it. But I couldn't just have the MC overpower them with magic and force them to submit, right?

  I wanted there to be more of an understanding, not outright submission—a win-win situation where the noble lord would choose to work for the cause instead of being forced into it. I hope I expressed that well, but I apologize if it didn't come across the way I intended. I'll try to do better in the future and avoid such long conversations.

  We all learn from our mistakes, and I get the best inspiration from your feedback. ??

  Next up, there's going to be a big time skip. In the next chapter, I'll focus on the key events that are important to the plot for the early months of the second semester. And I won't go into detail on the second round of Quidditch games either, as I want to wrap up the events of the first book in the next 10 chapters or so.

  If you have any thoughts or ideas, feel free to share. I listen. ??

  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for all your support!

  —————————

  Happy times never last long. The holidays ended quickly, and before anyone knew it, a new year had begun.

  In the second week of January, all the students returned to school again and brought the castle back to life. The halls, which had been quiet during the break, buzzed with laughter and excited conversations as friends reunited and eagerly shared stories about their holiday adventures.

  But starting from the second day, the routine of school life had settled in once more. In the mornings, the Great Hall was packed with sleepy students hurriedly eating breakfast before dashing off to class. By evening, the library buzzed with those scrambling to finish their homework, while common rooms were filled with quiet chatter and the steady scratching of quills on parchment.

  Lessons resumed at full pace, and the excitement over the holidays slowly faded. Students focused on their studies, and professors carried on with their teaching, but that did not mean the castle had lost its energy. Hogwarts remained as lively as ever.

  Quidditch practices picked up again, filling the frosty air with the sound of whizzing broomsticks and shouts from the pitch. Students whispered about upcoming Hogsmeade weekends, looking forward to warm butterbeer and a break from their studies. Outside, snow still covered the grounds, and the bitter cold made the cozy glow of the common rooms more inviting than ever.

  ---

  And just like that, January passed. The days blurred together in a steady routine of lessons, meals, and the occasional classroom mishap.

  Nothing unexpected happened. There were no surprises, no disasters, nothing to shake up the steady rhythm of school life. But as more and more days of February went by, a growing buzz of anticipation filled the air.

  Hogwarts prepared to welcome visitors once again, as the second round of the inter-school Quidditch tournament was scheduled for the final week of the month.

  The professors on the organizing committee supervised all the preparations, double-checking the enchanted banners, reviewing security measures, and ensuring the guest quarters were properly arranged.

  Meanwhile, the selected students on the same committee handled their own assigned responsibilities. They managed schedules, coordinated supplies, and ensured everything ran smoothly in time for the tournament.

  ---

  The first match saw Hogwarts face Koldovstoretz. The game was intense, with Koldovstoretz proving to be a formidable opponent. Their Chasers moved in perfect sync, weaving through Hogwarts' defenses and racking up points with precise goals. By the time Koldovstoretz had climbed to 140 points, Hogwarts was in serious trouble, trailing behind with only 90.

  Fortunately for the British side, just as the tension in the stands reached its peak, Marcus Flint spotted the Snitch. With a desperate dive, he managed to snatch it from under the Koldovstoretz Seeker's nose, securing a narrow victory for Hogwarts.

  The second match against Durmstrang, however, did not go as well. The Durmstrang team played with brutal efficiency, their Beaters relentless in sending Bludgers hurtling toward the Hogwarts players. Needless to say, it was an aggressive match, and Professor McGonagall had to stay extra vigilant to ensure her little lion in the commentator's box didn't let any inappropriate words slip.

  Hogwarts fought hard, but Durmstrang's Chasers were simply faster. The score climbed steadily in their favor until they reached 150 points before anyone could catch the Snitch, sealing Hogwarts' defeat.

  Koldovstoretz, despite their talent, faced a streak of misfortune. Their loss to Hogwarts came down to a last-minute stroke of luck, and against Durmstrang, they fought fiercely, keeping the score neck and neck throughout the game. But in the end, victory slipped from their grasp, and they suffered a narrow 130 to 150 defeat.

  It was not a matter of skill—only bad luck.

  At the end of the round, Durmstrang emerged victorious, winning both matches and securing their place in the finals with the highest points. Meanwhile, Hogwarts, despite their mixed performance, managed to secure second place and a spot in the finals, while Koldovstoretz, despite their strong showing, was eliminated from the tournament.

  ---

  This round of matches drew a much larger audience than before. More members of the public attended in person, and, more importantly, the number of people watching through Magic Vision had increased significantly.

  Maverick, the mastermind behind both the tournament and the alchemical invention, took note of the change with satisfaction. Sales were rising steadily as more wizarding families purchased Magic Visions for their homes. However, it had yet to become a household staple, and the reason was clear—there simply wasn't enough content.

  So far, it had only broadcasted the inter-school matches, which, while exciting, offered limited reach. But as more people tuned in, its potential was becoming undeniable.

  He had already begun discussions with the ICW's sports committees and various Ministries of Magic, negotiating broadcasting rights on a larger scale. If successful, Magic Vision would soon expand beyond the tournament, covering everything from Quidditch finals to high-profile duels and even magical creature showcases. The possibilities were endless, and its limited reach would soon become a thing of the past.

  ---

  February ended with the thrilling conclusion of the second round of the inter-school Quidditch tournament. The students, still buzzing from the excitement of securing a spot in the finals, gradually settled back into their routines. Lessons continued, the castle returned to its usual rhythm, and the weight of homework and exams once again took priority.

  Meanwhile, despite everything happening during this time, Maverick hadn't been simply teaching and handling his other responsibilities. During his off hours, he would occasionally visit home, or check in on the Stark couple as they adjusted to their new lives, and even found time to tinker with alchemy, further honing his craft.

  But there was also the matter of the storyline—something he paid close attention to. Just as in the series, Harry had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas break, and the old man had given him the invisibility cloak as a Christmas present.

  Through some not-so-legal and ethical means, Maverick also confirmed that Harry had "accidentally" stumbled upon the Mirror of Erised. He was half certain this was all part of Dumbledore's plan—one more carefully placed step in whatever grand scheme the nosy old wizard was weaving.

  Still, the fact remained: the legendary invisibility cloak, said to be one of the three Deathly Hallows, was now in the hands of a first-year boy with no real idea of its worth. And for someone like Maverick—who had mastered the art of Muggle infiltration and possessed numerous ways to conceal his presence—getting close to it was hardly a challenge.

  In fact, it was almost too easy.

  ---

  Present day. March 1992. Alchemy Classroom.

  The rhythmic tapping of hammers filled the room, blending into a steady beat as students worked with focused concentration. In front of each of them lay a rectangular brick, roughly half the size of a typical book, and its surface was gradually transforming under their careful hands.

  Unfamiliar patterns were being carved into the bricks as students carefully followed the reference sketches laid out beside them. Their eyes flicked between the designs and their own work, seemingly making sure that each cut was precise and every marking was aligned correctly.

  Fine dust hung in the air, catching the glow of the enchanted lights overhead, making the room feel less like an alchemy classroom and more like an ancient workshop for carving petroglyphs. And in a way, it was. Because today was one of the days Maverick dedicated to carving lessons—easily the class favorite.

  Every student wore a mask and goggles to shield their face, with thick gloves covering their hands as they chipped away at the material. Some worked with confidence, their cuts smooth and precise, while others hesitated, double-checking their markings before making the next careful strike.

  Now and then, a sharp snap rang out as a tool slipped, followed by a muffled groan or quiet grumble behind a mask. Though the students seemed extremely focused, the enthusiasm in the room was unmistakable, as not a single student was seen slacking off or distracted.

  Maverick moved between the tables with slow and steady steps as he observed his students progress. Now and then, he paused to offer some instructions—adjusting an angle here, reminding a student to steady their hand there. Some nodded without looking up, too absorbed in their work, while others quickly corrected their mistakes before he moved on.

  Then, as he passed one of the desks, something caught his eye.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  A slight bulge in Potter's backpack—and more tellingly, a glimpse of fabric unlike anything he had seen before. It had a smooth, silken sheen, but the way it caught the light was strange. Instead of simply reflecting it, the edges seemed to blur and fade, as if it wasn't meant to be fully seen.

  Maverick's gaze paused on it for only a fraction of a second before he moved on. But inwardly, his thoughts sharpened with certainty. That was no ordinary piece of cloth, and he had a pretty good guess of what it should be.

  But where was Mr. Savior planning to sneak off to? He thought as he walked past the end of the row and moved to the next. Only, that was what any student paying attention to him would have seen.

  He brushed the earlier thought aside. Probably off to get into some childish trouble with his red-haired buddy, he mused.

  He came close to Potter's desk once again, and a smile grew across his face, now taking a closer look at the piece of fabrick.

  Moments later, he made his way toward his desk, while the students would have seen him approaching from another row—until the illusion and reality met.

  He then did a sweep over the rows of students, all deeply focused on their work, before glancing at the watch on his wrist.

  There were still a few minutes left before class ended.

  ---

  The lesson continued as usual, and Maverick didn't betray a single reaction all this time. When class ended, he strolled leisurely back to his office, and made no effort to rush.

  The moment he stepped inside though, a wide grin tugged at his lips. But first, he locked the door, layering several protective enchantments to ensure complete privacy.

  Only then did he settle into his chair, relax, and finally brought up the system notification.

  —————————

  The Deathly Hallows were said to be three legendary artifacts, created by Death itself and gifted to the Peverell brothers as a reward for their cunning.

  The first was the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand ever made, said to grant its wielder unbeatable strength in battle. The second, the Resurrection Stone, could summon the dead, though only as fleeting echoes of their former selves. The third, the Invisibility Cloak, offered perfect concealment from all forms of detection, allowing its wearer to vanish completely, escaping sight even from enchanted eyes and magical spells.

  Together, the Hallows were believed to grant mastery over Death—though what that truly meant was a mystery.

  At least, that was how the story went.

  Maverick, however, wasn't convinced by these tales. If this were the same world written in JKR's books, he might have entertained the idea. But it wasn't.

  This world—this universe—was something else entirely. A tangled web of realities, layered and twisted together, where magic was just one of many forces at play.

  Here, he was well aware that Death was not just a shadowy figure from a wizard's bedtime story. It was real—a cosmic entity, ancient and unfathomable. One of the most powerful beings in existence—eternal, ever-present, and omniscient.

  The idea that such a being had personally forged three artifacts for a handful of wizards? Highly unlikely.

  More likely, the "Death" in the legend wasn't the Lady Death of the multiverse at all.

  It could be a demon, a dimensional lord, or one of the countless so-called gods. Maybe even an alien. The possibilities were endless.

  Or perhaps it had nothing to do with an outside force at all, but was simply the masterful work of an ancient witch or wizard—someone who had pushed alchemy beyond even the limits of a Grandmaster Alchemist.

  As for the identity of this hypothetical supremely powerful mage-slash-alchemist… Maverick had no clue.

  Still, he found himself leaning toward that conclusion—that it could very well be the work of an alchemist—because the system's prompt that flashed when he made contact with the Invisibility Cloak suggested it wasn't anything legendary beyond mortal creations.

  [ Item: Cloak of Invisibility ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristic: True Concealment ]

  [ Grade: Excellent ]

  The first thing that caught his attention was that the Extraordinary Characteristic description of the Invisibility Cloak did not say Invisibility—but something else. This was the first time it had ever prompted like that, and it intrigued him on the spot.

  Because he had encountered plenty of other Invisibility Cloaks before—crafted by different alchemists over the past few years during his travels—and every single one had triggered a basic-grade Invisibility characteristic, nothing more.

  That meant this Cloak of Invisibility—one of the three pieces of the Deathly Hallows—was at least not some typical pieces of alchemy.

  The only thing remotely similar to this might be the bracelet his teacher had given him. When activated, it also did more than just turn him invisible—it concealed his magical energy and even offered resistance to certain spells.

  But there was a key difference between his bracelet and the Invisibility Cloak, even though they might have shared similar characteristics.

  The system had listed the bracelet's effects separately. Invisibility was one Extraordinary Characteristic. Magical Energy Concealment was another. Basic Spell Resistance yet another.

  That meant if he wanted all three, he would have to spend an Extraordinary Characteristic Point on each one, which, for him was just wasteful and redundant. It was one of the reasons he had never replicated the bracelet's abilities. Moreover, not all of them were even Excellent-Grade to begin with.

  But the Cloak of Invisibility was different.

  Its description stated True Concealment, meaning its characteristic was not limited to just invisibility. Unfortunately, he could not access any details from the system unless he replicated and then fused it—only then would he be able to see the system's notes on the characteristic.

  Another point stood out—it was not Mythical-Grade, just Excellent. Now, Excellent-Grade was not bad and all, but still, he had half expected it to be Mythical. After all, this was THE bloody Invisibility Cloak.

  But after giving it some thought, he realized it might not be so bad. After all, the system's grading was unreliable at best.

  A magic wand—something so common that every witch and wizard used—was rated Excellent, while a firearm capable of obliterating flesh and bone, powered by the residual energy of the damn Space Stone of all things, was regarded as a gadget with only a Basic Grade characteristic.

  He really wished there was a customer support button somewhere in his system interface so he could file a mountain of complaints.

  Anyway, back to the topic—Excellent-Grade was still more than good enough. And True Concealment sounded like a characteristic worth betting on.

  [ Do you want to use one Extraordinary Characteristic Point to replicate it? ]

  He made his choice.

  At first, he thought the system would change the nature of the characteristic, saying it wasn't integratable and needed to be modified, just as it had with the last few characteristics he had integrated.

  But this time—just like the very first item he had copied, his wand—there was no such prompt, and it was replicated directly.

  Now came the next step.

  [ Extraordinary Characteristic: True Concealment (Unfused) ]

  Maverick took a slow breath, double-checking that the door to his office was securely locked. Then, he chose to fuse the characteristic.

  …

  Nothing.

  No tingling sensation. No shift in perception. Nothing at all.

  Half a minute passed.

  Maverick frowned, tilting his head. The system interface had vanished, but that was normal during fusion. What wasn't normal was how completely uneventful this felt.

  Another minute passed. Then another.

  By the time ten minutes had passed, he finally felt something. It was faint—just a fleeting sense of realization, like a sudden enlightenment in his subconscious that washed over him for a brief moment. And then, right after that, the system finally responded.

  [ Fusion complete ]

  Weird, he thought, seeing how quickly and anticlimactically the process had ended.

  Brushing the thought aside, he brought up his status panel and examined the updated information.

  ---

  [ Name: Maverick Caesar ]

  [ Class: Wizard ]

  [ Rank: Arch-Magus ]

  [ Magical Energy: 21,047+ ]

  [ Points: 2272 ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristic Points: 0 ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristics: ]

  [ Excellent grade: Spellcasting, Independent Expanded Dimension, Flight, Vitality, True Concealment ]

  [ Talents: ]

  [ Magical Energy Manipulation (Master +) ]

  [ Magical Sense (Master +) ]

  [ Spacial Rift (Advanced +) ]

  [ Dominant Spirit (Advanced +) ]

  [ Nature Energy Manipulation (Advanced +) ]

  [ Transfiguration (Advanced +) ]

  [ Alchemy (Advanced +) ]

  [ Potions (Intermediate +) ]

  [ Spells: ]

  [ Aquired Master Proficiency: ]

  [ Fiendfyre + | Illusio Lunam Lectorem + ]

  [ Aquired Advanced Proficiency: ]

  [ ... ]

  The Extraordinary Characteristic, True Concealment has been fused and added to the list of abilities

  But he still had no idea what Excellent-Grade True Concealment actually meant.

  Focusing on the characteristic, he called up the system's explanation.

  [ Extraordinary Characteristic: True Concealment ]

  Note:

  Grants a state beyond invisibility. When activated, you are erased from perception—no eye, spell, or enchanted device can detect you.

  Can be toggled passively or actively with a thought.

  When active, your presence vanishes entirely. No trace of sound, scent, magic, or aura remains.

  However, the effect is limited to beings of the same level or lower. A sufficiently powerful mage or entity with heightened perception may still have a chance to see through it.

  ---

  Maverick's eyes narrowed, and then, a moment later, a slow grin crept onto his face.

  This was indeed beyond standard invisibility charms or any concealment props he knew—even superior to his teacher's bracelet.

  His bet on investing a point to replicate the Cloak of Invisibility had been the right choice.

  And the new ability he had gained… now this—this was interesting.

  —————————

  For the next few hours, until his next class, Maverick remained in his office, testing his new ability in every way he could think of.

  The first thing he noticed was that, unlike Invisibility spells or his bracelet's invisibility function, the Extraordinary Characteristic True Concealment caused no magical fluctuations during its activation.

  No wand, no incantation, no shimmer of light. It simply was. And the best part? It demanded nothing—no drain on his stamina, no pull on his magic. It felt as effortless as breathing.

  And if that wasn't enough…

  His gaze settled on a chair across the room.

  And then, with just a thought, the chair simply... vanished. One moment it was there, the next it was gone.

  His eyes lit up.

  So not only could he activate the ability on himself, but could also extend it to others, or even objects. The range was limited, of course, but even with that restriction, the possibilities were endless.

  Because this wasn't ordinary invisibility—it left no trace. No flicker, no distortion—nothing. No magical fluctuations, no energy signature. Only someone with profound mastery of Magical-Sense has even a chance of detecting it.

  According to the system, only a mage whose rank was equal to or higher than his could possibly sense anything, and even then, only if they were searching carefully. And the best part? This effect would only grow stronger as his rank increased.

  A slow smirk curled his lips.

  This ability alone had just made him more dangerous than any spell or charm in his arsenal. The next step was to test the Extraordinary Characteristic's effectiveness against other mages. His first targets were the Great Mages and Dumbledore at Hogwarts.

  He glanced at his watch.

  But first, he had a class to teach.

  With that thought, he rose from his seat and made his way out of his office, heading toward the classroom.

  ---

  For three weeks, Maverick put his new ability to the test, using Flitwick, McGonagall, and Dumbledore as unwitting subjects.

  He quickly realized that the system's note about mages of the same rank detecting him had been a serious understatement. McGonagall and Flitwick hadn't noticed a thing, and he doubted they would, even if they knew someone invisible was in the room with them.

  As for Dumbledore, it was much the same—the old wizard showed no signs of detecting him. Of course, if Dumbledore actively flared his immense Magical-Sense, things might be different, but Maverick had no intention of testing that theory against the nosiest wizard in the world.

  To push the limits further, he needed someone he trusted—someone equally powerful. And there was no better choice than his teacher, Edward.

  So, one weekend, he took a trip to America and explained the situation. Of course, he had to come up with a plausible reason for such a strange request, but fortunately, Edward didn't question it. He simply agreed to help.

  According to Edward, detecting Maverick required intense concentration—far beyond the norm. Even then, he only barely sensed his presence, and that was only because he knew for certain that someone was there and exactly where. Without that knowledge, he admitted that even an active search would have made detection nearly impossible.

  Maverick was more than pleased with the results. He thanked his teacher for his cooperation and returned to Hogwarts, both satisfied and more confident than ever in his newfound ability.

  ---

  As March came to an end, winter's lingering chill faded, giving way to the crisp, fresh air of early spring.

  Then came the first Friday of April.

  The sky was dark and dotted with stars, the half-moon casting its golden light over Hogwarts Castle. Just past midnight, Maverick sat in his office grading some assignments of his sixth-year Muggle Science students, when suddenly, his Magical-Sense picked up three small figures hurrying toward his door.

  Knock, knock.

  With a flick of his finger, the door swung open, revealing three flustered faces. Harry stood at the front, fidgeting anxiously, while Ron and Hermione stood just behind him, wearing similarly troubled expressions.

  "Well… it's open, so come in, you three…"

  Maverick set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, watching as the three Gryffindors hesitated before stepping forward. He arched an eyebrow, amused.

  They hesitated for a moment longer before finally stepping inside.

  He already had a pretty good idea of why they were here. Though he had spent much of his free time testing his new Extraordinary Characteristic, that didn't mean he had stopped paying attention to the trios movements—or to the parasite Voldemort attached to Quirrell's head.

  Just like in the original timeline, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had discovered—coincidentally, of course—that Hagrid had somehow come into possession of a dragon egg. And, as expected, their little arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy, had caught wind of it too.

  But this time, instead of keeping it to themselves and scrambling for a solution on their own, the trio had apparently decided that he was the right person to help them—and therefore, to help their half-giant friend deal with the consequences of illegally raising a dangerous magical beast. At least, that was his guess.

  And his guess was right. To them—even to little Weasley—Maverick was the one teacher who never came down too hard on them. In class, whenever they messed up—by they, meaning Ron—Maverick would simply offer a bit of advice and move on. No scoldings, no detentions, just a calm correction.

  So, in their still-developing minds, they had labeled him as the person to turn to. Someone magnanimous, someone who, no matter how big their mistake, would help them find a solution rather than punish them.

  Hermione was the first to speak. She did her best to appear calm, carefully phrasing her words as if it were just a casual question.

  "Professor," she began, her voice as steady as she could manage, "what would happen if… hypothetically speaking, of course—someone were caught raising a dragon?"

  Maverick hummed, pretending to consider the question. "Very severe consequences," he said lightly. "Anyone caught illegally keeping a dragon would be charged under wizarding law. And it wouldn't be a simple punishment…" He shrugged before casually adding, "Azkaban."

  Ron let out a strangled noise. Harry stiffened. Hermione paled.

  Maverick thought to have a bit of fun.

  "And," he added, glancing at them with a knowing smirk, "any accomplices involved in the act could face the same punishment."

  Perhaps he had gone a bit too far. Hermione looked visibly pale at the mention of being expelled. Yes, that was what he picked up from her surface thoughts—it wasn't the fear of Azkaban that unsettled her, but the idea of being expelled from school.

  Before he could soften his earlier words, the little witch, unable to hold it in any longer, blurted everything out in one breath.

  "Hagrid got a dragon egg from a strange wizard, and it hatched tonight, and we were there when it happened, and Malfoy saw, and now he's threatening to tell his father, who's on the school board, and if that happens, Hagrid could be thrown out of Hogwarts, and—"

  "Professor, please help us get rid of the dragon," Ron cut in hurriedly. "My brother Charlie works on a dragon reserve... he could take it. But it'll take time to arrange, and if the Ministry finds out before then—" He swallowed hard, glancing at Maverick nervously. "—like you said, they might come for us, too."

  Harry Potter looked calmer than the other two, but still, was equally concerned. "Professor, is there anything you can do to help?"

  Maverick steepled his fingers, considering them with mild amusement.

  "So, let me get this straight," Maverick said, leaning back in his chair. "You three... no, wait, it should be four, including Mr. Malfoy... You somehow stumbled upon Mr. Hagrid hatching a dragon. In the middle of the night. Past curfew. Did I get that right?"

  Their mouths hung open, but no words came out.

  Maverick chuckled inwardly. "And now you want me to help you…" He turned to Ron and raised an eyebrow, making the boy flinch. "Smuggle it out before the Ministry gets here?

  The trio stared at him, lost for words. Harry swallowed. Ron looked anywhere but at him. Hermione opened her mouth—

  And just then, Maverick's Magical-Sense caught another presence, no, two, walking toward his office.

  "Professor—" Hermione tried to say something, but Maverick held up a hand and glanced at the door.

  Knock, knock.

  The three Gryffindors jumped to their feet, eyes wide, their heads snapping toward the door.

  "Please, sit down," Maverick said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's only the Deputy Headmistress."

  "Wait, Professor—!" they blurted out in unison, but Maverick didn't seem concerned.

  The door opened, and in walked Professor McGonagall... not in her usual robes, holding a flashlight. One of his inventions, no doubt.

  And trailing behind her, with a smug grin that practically screamed I win, was Draco Malfoy.

  McGonagall's sharp gaze swept over the three Gryffindors before settling on Maverick. She arched an eyebrow, clearly expecting an explanation.

  Maverick smirked. "Three of your little lions have been rather… adventurous tonight. And they just came to me for a bit of help solving a problem..."

  Maverick didn't say it outright, but he knew McGonagall had already pieced things together, given the pompous blond standing behind her was looking far too pleased with himself.

  McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line as she turned to the trio, her sharp gaze flicking between them. "What in Merlin's name are you three doing sneaking around the castle past curfew?"

  Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, but none of them dared to speak. And Malfoy standing behind McGonagall looked ready to burst with self-satisfaction.

  "Well?" McGonagall prompted sharply a second time.

  Hermione opened her mouth, likely ready to spin some excuse, but Malfoy cut in with a dramatic sigh. "Professor, I caught them sneaking around the castle. You wouldn't believe what I overheard… something about a dragon." His smirk deepened as he crossed his arms. "Imagine my surprise."

  Ron, looking pale, blurted, "It's not what it sounds like!"

  "Oh?" McGonagall arched a brow. "Then do explain, Mr. Weasley."

  Ron clamped his mouth shut.

  Harry took a deep breath. "Professor, it's Hagrid. He—he got a dragon egg, but he didn't realize how much trouble it would cause. We were just trying to help."

  McGonagall exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hagrid…" she muttered under her breath.

  Malfoy, sensing victory, pressed on. "I told you, Professor. They were breaking rules, and Hagrid's breaking the law. My father will—"

  "That is quite enough, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall cut in sharply. "I will handle this."

  Maverick watched the scene unfold with mild amusement. He already knew McGonagall wouldn't let Hagrid be punished too harshly, but she would certainly have words with him.

  McGonagall sighed. "All four of you will follow me. And not a word from any of you."

  She shot a sharp look at Malfoy, who promptly shut his mouth—though the smugness on his face remained.

  Turning back to Maverick, she exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Apologies for disturbing you, Professor Caesar."

  Maverick waved a hand dismissively. "Not at all… though don't be too hard on the four of them." He smiled, glancing at the students.

  "Wait… Professor, what do you mean by four—" Malfoy turned sharply, as if he had misheard.

  Unfortunately for him, he received no explanation—only Maverick's amused smile.

  "Out… all of you," McGonagall ordered, her tone brooking no argument as she ushered the three Gryffindors and one Slytherin out of his office.

  As the door shut behind them, Maverick chuckled to himself and leaned back in his chair. "This is going to be interesting…"

  He turned back to his work but knew he wouldn't be sitting there for long. He was thinking about whether things would continue following the events of the original story.

  And then about Voldemort.

  Maverick wanted to see if the wraith had heeded his—well, Bloodraven's—warning about not attacking any more unicorns.

  So far, the half-dead parasite had been eerily quiet.

  Especially during the week of the inter-school Quidditch tournament, Quirrell never even showed up to watch the matches, choosing instead to hide away. Maverick had kept a close eye on him and could tell that Voldemort was holding back—likely still wary after their last encounter.

  But because of that restraint, the timid professor's condition had worsened, looked even paler now, almost sickly.

  Maverick had a feeling it wouldn't be long before the man made his move.

  A smirk tugged at his lips. He wasn't overly worried—his strange abilities and sheer strength were his capital. But this time, he would make sure no student got hurt.

  And with the finals less than a month away, he was determined to rid Hogwarts of Voldemort's parasite completely.

  —————————

  The next morning, students gathered for breakfast as usual, but there was something different about the atmosphere. The Great Hall felt quieter, with hushed conversations and curious glances. Eyes kept darting toward the enormous hourglasses that displayed the house points, where a shocking change had taken place overnight.

  Just last night before, Gryffindor had been comfortably in the lead, with Slytherin hot on their heels. But looking at the scores now, it was clear that someone—or perhaps more than one—had done something big. Gryffindor's house points had taken a sharp nosedive, now sitting at the very bottom of the pile.

  And the culprits?

  It didn't take long for word to spread. After all, a certain smug Slytherin had been present when McGonagall delivered her merciless verdict, and Draco Malfoy had made sure that every student in Hogwarts knew exactly who was responsible for the disaster.

  At the Gryffindor table, three first-years sat hunched over their plates, shoulders slumped, doing their best to ignore the stares burning into them from all sides.

  A full one hundred and fifty points. Gone. Because of them.

  They had no excuse—nothing to do but endure their current predicament and hope the glares would eventually go away.

  And so they did. The rest of the morning passed in a miserable haze, with other students—especially their own housemates—shooting them sharp looks at every turn.

  Even Fred and George, usually the ones getting into trouble, eyed them. But unlike the others, they didn't look annoyed. Instead, they looked almost impressed, as if admiring the sheer scale of points lost in a single night.

  ---

  Later that day, the trio huddled in the library, whispering over an open book neither of them was actually reading.

  "You saw Snape limping?" Ron asked, frowning as he leaned closer.

  "Are you sure?" Hermione repeated, her brow furrowing in thought.

  "I saw it… I'm sure," Harry said firmly.

  Ron glanced around, then leaned in further, dropping his voice to a whisper. "It's obvious, isn't it? He must've tried to get past the three-headed dog and got hurt."

  Hermione bit her lip, deep in thought. "But why would Snape want the Stone?"

  Ron gaped at her like she'd just asked why the sky was blue. "Why? For gold, obviously! Or to live forever! Can you think of another professor in this school who'd want to steal it?"

  Neither Harry nor Hermione argued. Being children, and given Snape's treatment of them throughout the year, it was no surprise that they had painted the man as the villain in their minds. Even Hermione, who usually tried to be fair, didn't seem interested in considering any alternative explanation.

  "But since he's injured… that means he didn't get past," Hermione added. "Which means the Stone is safe."

  "Right," Harry nodded.

  "We should tell a professor," Ron suggested.

  Hermione hesitated, her fingers tapping against the wooden table. "Who, though?"

  For a moment, they considered Maverick. He had always been the most approachable of their professors. But after last night, something had become clear to them. Their most magnanimous professor was still, in the end, a professor, and they weren't so sure he would simply listen to them without question.

  Harry sighed, slumping back in his chair. "I think … maybe we should just leave it alone. I mean, even if Snape is after the Stone, there's no way he's getting past that three-headed dog, right?"

  The other two nodded, and they sat in silence, each lost in their thoughts.

  After a moment, Harry sighed. "Don't forget, we have to see Filch tonight."

  "Don't remind me, Harry," Hermione grumbled, slumping further in her seat.

  "At least that slimy snake will be there to suffer with us..." Ron added with a grin.

  A thin smile spread across the three of them as they realized they wouldn't have to suffer alone.

  ---

  That evening, at precisely eleven o'clock, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco Malfoy stood outside Filch's office, waiting for their detention arrangements.

  The caretaker came out from his small office shortly after, with a wicked grin stretched across his face. "What do we have here?" he sneered, eyeing them with thinly veiled disdain. "Follow me."

  They trudged after him, arguing among themselves, three against one, but only in whispers. The last thing they wanted to do now was upset the nasty man in front of them. They were led through the quiet corridors, and as they stepped out of the castle, each step felt heavier than the last.

  Their expressions grew grimmer with every passing moment, until they finally reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid was waiting, his lantern casting a dim glow in the darkness.

  "Ah, there yeh lot are," Hagrid greeted them with a warm smile. Unlike in the original story, Hagrid did not look like a man that had just lost his child.

  "Bad luck, gettin' detention. But good news! Dumbledore arranged for Norbert to be taken away..."

  Ron's eyes lit up. "Wait—so my brother Charlie was here?"

  "Charlie? No..." Hagrid shook his head. "A very famous magizoologist, someone I trust, came and took him away. Promised to give Norbert the best treatment..." The half-giant blinked, raising his eyebrows repeatedly, as if to boast. "And I'll get to see him every now and then…"

  Malfoy, listening to the seemingly happy ending, was far from pleased, but he did not retort. He only huffed under his breath and kept his mouth shut.

  "Who's this famous magizoologist, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

  "Ah… I'm not allowed to say." Hagrid scratched his beard, looking away. "But he left a couple of hours back, and Dumbledore went along with him—guess to catch up, given their long history of friendship… Ah, I shouldn't have said that…"

  He quickly cleared his throat. "Right then." He turned to Filch. "Argus, I'll take over from here."

  Filch tsked, then gave one last glance at the four students. "Right then… I'll be seein' you at dawn," he sneered, then added with a nasty grin, "what's left of ya…"

  The older man turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving the four first-years standing there, exchanging puzzled—and slightly alarmed—looks.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Malfoy asked, turning back to the half-giant.

  "Don't listen to that creepy old man," Hagrid said, waving a hand dismissively. He straightened his long, furry coat before continuing. "Right then… yer detention tonight is simple. We'll be patrolin' the forest, checkin' on the creatures."

  And just as he finished speaking, a long, eerie howl echoed from deep within the trees, sending a visible shudder through all four students.

  "You—you're joking, right?" Ron gulped, his face pale.

  "Isn't the Forbidden Forest supposed to be extremely dangerous? Home to all sorts of deadly creatures?" Hermione asked, glancing anxiously at the looming trees.

  "Nonsense. With me here, nothin' bad's gonna happen to ya." Hagrid thumped a hand against his broad chest, as if to prove his point.

  "Just follow my lead and stay close," Hagrid said as he raised his lantern high and stepped toward the towering trees. "The forest's not so bad if you know your way 'round."

  ---

  Soon, Hagrid, with the three children trailing behind him, ventured deeper into the vast, dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest. Their footsteps broke the eerie stillness, but there was no immediate sign of danger. The air was filled with the soft rustling of leaves, the occasional distant growl, and the unsettling howl of unseen creatures.

  An uneasy silence settled between the four students as they struggled to match Hagrid's leisurely pace. His long strides made it seem as though he were simply strolling through a peaceful park, while they stumbled along, tense and alert, in the midst of this dangerous place.

  And hidden in the shadows, Maverick moved silently, blending seamlessly with the darkness as he kept a watchful eye on them. He had a feeling that things weren't going to unfold the way they had in the story he knew.

  So much had changed.

  He extended his magical sense over a large area, searching for any signs of movement. Until now, there was no trace of Quirrell, nor any other humans, aside from the children, Hagrid, and himself.

  And there were no signs of harm to any unicorns either, at least not as far as he knew, after his encounter with Voldemort last year. If there had been any, he was certain the half-giant would have noticed by now.

  It seemed the parasite had taken his warning seriously. But for how long?

  —————————

  The patrol of the Forbidden Forest passed without incident. No sudden attacks, no monstrous creatures emerging from the darkness—only the natural sounds of the forest at night. The deeper the four children followed Hagrid, the more their initial fear gave way to wary exhaustion. The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves no longer made them jump, though their eyes still darted toward every unexpected sound.

  Maverick had stopped trailing them halfway through the night, slipping away unnoticed as he made his way back to the castle. He was certain that, at least for tonight, Quirrell and Voldemort would not make an appearance. But knowing their condition, he doubted Voldemort's patience would last much longer.

  The night ended, giving way to a brand-new day, but nothing had changed for the trio. Breakfast was the same. Gryffindors still treated them like outcasts. Some glared openly, while others whispered behind cupped hands, not even bothering to be discreet. Disappointment was all they saw on their faces.

  But on the bright side, the few who had shown outright anger the day before no longer looked as furious. Sure enough, all they needed was time, they thought, until things settled and returned to normal.

  So, they did what they had done the day before—ignored the glares, finished their breakfast, then headed off to class to earn back some points and restore a bit of their reputation.

  ---

  In the afternoon, just like the day before, the trio found themselves back in the library. There really was no other choice. The common room, usually their go-to spot to relax after classes had become unbearable. And the library, it has become the perfect place instead, an escape from all the silent judgment that followed them everywhere else.

  They picked a table away from where most students gathered. At first, they whispered to each other about their day, but as time passed, their words dwindled into silence.

  A while later, Hermione was the only one actually doing anything, her mind buried in a book. Ron had his face pressed against the table, looking as though he might drift off at any moment. Harry, meanwhile, stared blankly at the open pages in front of him, not even sure what the book was about.

  The silence stretched on until—

  "I need to use the bathroom," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione, pushing his chair back.

  Ron grunted in acknowledgment without lifting his head, while Hermione gave a distracted nod. Without another word, Harry stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made his way toward the door.

  ---

  Harry walked slowly through the castle corridors with his head down and lost in thought. He was halfway to the nearest boys' bathroom when something made him stop in his tracks.

  A sound.

  Soft, pitiful, barely more than a whisper.

  His brows furrowed. It was faint, but there was no mistaking it—one voice, no, two.

  "Please... no, no, no, no..."

  Harry's pulse quickened. He recognized that voice.

  Professor Quirrell.

  "Yes... I... I will... yes, tonight..."

  The voices were coming from a nearby room, just ahead past the corner.

  Harry crept closer, pressing himself against the cold stone wall.

  His heart pounded as he strained to hear more, but the words were still too low, too shaky to make out clearly. Who was Professor Quirrell talking to? Who was making him sound so frightened?

  His mind raced. He had to get closer.

  Without thinking twice, he slipped off his bag, quickly dug inside, and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. He flung it over himself and took careful, quiet steps toward the corner.

  But just as he reached it—before he could take the turn—he heard a door swing open.

  Harry barely had time to press himself flat against the wall as hurried footsteps rushed past him. He held his breath, standing completely still.

  Professor Quirrell stumbled into view. He looked even paler than usual, his eyes darting wildly around the corridor, as if searching for something—or someone.

  For a brief moment, Harry thought Quirrell was looking right at him.

  But then the professor turned his head, glanced over his shoulder nervously, and hurried away.

  Harry let out a slow, silent breath.

  And again, just as he was about to step forward—

  Another sound of footsteps caught his ears.

  Someone else was coming from the same direction Quirrell had just fled from.

  Harry tensed, pressing himself back against the wall.

  The footsteps neared until, finally, another familiar figure stepped into view.

  Snape.

  The Potions Master was still limping like he had the day before. Harry watched him pass by, heading in the same direction Quirrell had gone.

  His mind raced.

  He quickly pieced it together.

  The second voice—it had to have been Snape. Snape was the one threatening Quirrell.

  It didn't take much for his Gryffindor brain to conjure a story. Why Quirrell had sounded so afraid, why he had promised to do something tonight. Snape must have been forcing him to do something about the Sorcerer's Stone.

  Harry clenched his fists. But what should he do?

  He had told himself he wouldn't meddle in other people's business.

  But after this?

  There was no way he could ignore it.

  Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and hurried straight back to the library—completely forgetting about his full bladder.

  ---

  Ron was still slumped over the table when Harry slid back into his seat. Hermione looked up, surprised.

  "That was quick," she said, frowning.

  "I didn't go," Harry muttered, leaning in. "Listen to this—"

  Ron, who had been half-asleep, immediately perked up.

  Harry quickly recounted everything—Quirrell's panicked voice, Snape appearing right after him, and how the Potions Master had followed him down the corridor.

  Ron's eyes widened.

  "So Snape's threatening Professor Quirrell?" he whispered loudly. "D'you think he's trying to get him to spill how to get past Fluffy—"

  "It could be," Hermione said, chewing her lip. "Don't forget, Professor Quirrell knows how to deal with all sorts of creatures. If he can handle vampires, then maybe he knows how to get past a three-headed dog too."

  "And did Quirrell say anything? Did he say how?" Ron asked eagerly.

  Harry shook his head. "I didn't hear everything. It was too quiet."

  They all sighed.

  "So what do we do now?" Hermione asked.

  Ron and Harry exchanged glances. Neither had an answer.

  "We could tell Dumbledore," Hermione suggested after a pause.

  Harry hesitated. "And tell him what? There's no evidence... We'll only be losing another bunch of points..."

  Hermione bit her lip but didn't argue. She knew he had a point.

  After a moment, she straightened her shoulders. "Then we need evidence."

  "We could take Professor Quirrell and go to Dumbledore..." Ron suggested.

  Harry shook his head. "No... Quirrell looked terrified of Snape. He was threatened, so he's never going to admit it to us..."

  "Besides, everyone knows we don't get along with Snape," he added. "Dumbledore will think we're making it up just to get Snape in trouble."

  Ron and Hermione nodded grimly.

  Harry continued. "And even if he did believe us, how are we supposed to explain how we know about the Stone? Or Fluffy?"

  There was no way around it. They knew too much. If they wanted to tell Dumbledore, they'd have to explain everything, and they didn't have a good reason to know any of it.

  Silence hung between them.

  Then—

  "Should we go to Professor Maverick again?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

  Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

  It wasn't the worst idea—they all thought the same.

  "We don't have time," Harry said firmly. "Snape's going to try to steal the Stone tonight. We have to tell someone… Even… even if it means losing more House points… we can't let Snape win."

  One would think that Severus Snape was Harry's greatest enemy, listening to his tone. But alas, the man had tormented him in every class, sneering at his mistakes and docking points at every opportunity. It was no wonder Harry felt that way about him.

  Hermione sighed. "Let's just hope Professor Maverick is more merciful than McGonagall."

  Without wasting another second, they grabbed their things and hurried out of the library.

  The corridors were mostly empty as they made their way to the alchemy professor's office, and soon they reached the door.

  Ron took the initiative to knock, and the door swung open almost instantly.

  They saw Professor Maverick seated at his desk, flipping through a stack of papers, and then raised an eyebrow at the sight of them.

  "Why is it that every time you three show up, you look like the world's about to end?" he asked, setting his papers aside.

  Harry, Ron, and Hermione hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside and sitting down.

  "Right then," Maverick said, folding his arms. "Tell me what's so urgent..."

  Ron wasted no time and blurted out, "Snape's going to steal the Sorcerer's Stone tonight!"

  Silence.

  "I'm sorry, what?" Maverick asked, blinking.

  Hermione quickly cut in. "Professor, we know the Sorcerer Stone is hidden in the castle. And Snape... he's been trying to steal it all year!"

  She launched into a rushed explanation, starting from how they first found out about the Stone, how Fluffy was guarding it, and how Snape had somehow pressured Quirrell into helping him.

  "He's getting Quirrell to deal with Fluffy tonight," she said urgently. "And once that's done, Snape will go in and steal the Stone!"

  Harry added, "We think Snape was the one who broke into Gringotts last year... He was trying to steal the Stone before it was moved here."

  They kept talking, throwing in every piece of evidence they had, their words tumbling over each other in their urgency.

  Maverick didn't say a word. He simply listened, truly at a loss for words at their imagination.

  "Professor?" Hermione called hesitantly as the silence stretched after their recounting.

  Maverick exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "First of all," he said slowly, "I didn't even know there was such a thing hidden in this castle."

  That made all three of them blink in surprise.

  "And even if it is here," he continued, "it's Headmaster Dumbledore's business. I'm certain he wouldn't leave it unprotected."

  "But Snape—" Harry started.

  But Maverick raised a hand to interrupt.

  "And you got one thing wrong, that I know for certain," he said. "Even if Professor Quirrell knows how to deal with vampires, that doesn't mean he would know how to get past a Cerberus. Each Cerberus is different. Only their owner would know how to handle it."

  Just as Maverick said that, something clicked in Harry's mind.

  Hagrid.

  Hagrid was the owner... and Hagrid was someone who would very easily let things slip when he shouldn't.

  His brain worked overtime, and then another thought hit him.

  The dragon egg. Hagrid had won a dragon egg from some stranger in a card game.

  Harry shot to his feet.

  "Sorry, Professor," he said quickly. "We have to go."

  With that, Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione, pulling them out of the office before Maverick could even say anything.

  And Maverick did not try to stop them, nor did he want to ask anything else. He simply watched them leave, but a small smirk tugged his lips as soon as the door shut behind them.

  "Interesting," he muttered under his breath. "It's all happening much sooner than they did in the books…"

  He tapped his fingers against the desk thoughtfully. Was it because Quirrell couldn't get the unicorn blood? Then Voldemort must be getting really desperate...

  It was bound to be an eventful evening.

  ---

  Harry didn't stop running until they were halfway across the grounds, Ron and Hermione panting behind him.

  "Harry—" Hermione gasped, struggling to keep up. "What—are—we—doing?"

  Harry didn't slow down. "It's Hagrid," he said breathlessly. "Don't you think it's strange... that what Hagrid wants most is a dragon, and a stranger turns up and just happens to have one? I mean, how many people just wander around with a dragon egg in their pocket?"

  Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

  They quickened their pace and skidded to a stop outside Hagrid's hut. The half-giant was outside, tending to a few pumpkins with Fang at his feet.

  "Hagrid!" Harry called.

  Hagrid looked up, surprised. "What're yeh three doin' out here?"

  Harry didn't waste time. "Hagrid, we need to ask you something... about the dragon egg," he said urgently.

  Hagrid straightened, frowning. "Dragon egg? What about it?"

  "You know, the one you won in that card game," Harry pressed. "Who was the person you won it from?"

  Hagrid's frown deepened. "I dunno... didn't see his face. Kept his hood up," he said slowly.

  Ron and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances.

  Harry stepped closer. "This stranger though, he must have talked to you... said something about what you do, right?"

  Hagrid paused, thinking. "Well, he wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after... and I told him. Told him after Fluffy, I wouldn't mind raisin' a dragon." He chuckled at the thought.

  "Did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry pressed, his heart beating faster.

  Hagrid blinked at him, as if the question were obvious. "Well, course he was interested in Fluffy," he said with a grin. "I mean, how often do yeh come across someone who owns a three-headed dog?"

  He went on, beaming as he recalled the rest of the encounter. "And I told him about Fluffy, of course. Told him... the trick to calming Fluffy is simple—just play him a bit of music. He'll fall right off to sleep. Works every time..."

  He paused at the end, and then let out an "Oh..."

  "I shouldn't have told yeh that... I should not have told yeh that..." he muttered to himself, but Harry's mind was already elsewhere.

  A moment of silence stretched between them until Hermione broke it with another question. "Hagrid, is Dumbledore back yet?"

  Hagrid blinked, looking confused. "Not that I know of."

  That was it. That was all the three of them needed to hear. Without another word, Harry turned on his heel, pulling Ron and Hermione along as he rushed back toward the castle.

  "Wait! Where're ye goin'? Wait!" Hagrid shouted after them, but all three of them didn't stop for a second.

  ---

  "We have to get to the Stone before Snape does," Harry said, practically sprinting through the corridors.

  "Harry, wait!" Hermione called, reaching out to grab his arm. "We can't—what if we get caught? We'll lose even more points."

  "Big deal," Harry shot back. "What matters is stopping Snape."

  "But—" Hermione tried to reason, but Harry cut her off.

  "Do you really want him getting his hands on the Stone? Snape becoming immortal?" Harry asked, trying to convince her. "Besides, if we get to the Stone before him... prevent him from stealing it... we might just earn back the points we lost."

  Hermione went quiet at that, and then there was a moment of silence between them, until—

  Ron swallowed before asking, "we're really doing this, aren't we?"

  Harry nodded. "We have to."

  Hermione hesitated, her thoughts clearly racing, but then she let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Alright. But if we're doing this, we're doing it properly."

  "Tonight," Harry said, his jaw set. "We'll go tonight. After dinner, after everyone falls asleep."

  —————————

  The clock on the bedside table read 11:30 PM. The Gryffindor dormitory was silent, save for the occasional rustling of blankets and the distant hoot of an owl outside the window. Harry was lying on his bed, staring at the canopy while his heart kept thumping fast with anticipation for what he was about to do tonight.

  "Harry—it's time. Get the cloak." He heard the wisper of his friend.

  Ron's face was barely visible in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. Harry sat up at once, then reached under his bed and pulled out the silvery, fluid-like fabric of his Invisibility Cloak. He swung his legs over the side and slipped on his shoes as quietly as he could. The last thing they needed was waking Neville who would definitely ask too many questions.

  Carefully, the two boys tiptoed across the dormitory, down the spiral staircase, and into the common room.

  Hermione was already waiting for them near the fireplace. She was dressed in her robes and had her bag slung over one shoulder. But what caught Harry's eye was the small wooden box she held in her hands.

  "What's that?" Ron asked in a hushed voice.

  "A music box," Hermione whispered back, holding it up. "It plays a lullaby—should be enough to put Fluffy to sleep if we need to."

  Ron's eyes lit up. "That's Brilliant!"

  Harry also nodded at his friend's quick thinking. He had also considered bringing a musical instrument, like a flute, but a music box would be much more practical.

  Harry then glanced around the common room. The fire had burned low in the grate, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Everyone... had gone to bed.

  "Right then," he said, pulling the Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders. "Let's go."

  The three of them huddled together as Harry spread the cloak over them. It was a tight fit, but they managed, moving as one toward the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was snoring softly in her frame as they carefully eased the portrait open and slipped out into the silent corridors of Hogwarts.

  ...

  They moved silently and steadily toward their destination, the third-floor corridor where the trapdoor was located. With the Invisibility Cloak wrapped around them, they knew they were as hidden as they could be. However, when they reached there, they found something was wrong.

  The door was already slightly ajar.

  "This isn't good," Harry whispered. "Snape may have come before us."

  Ron's face darkened. "Do you think he's already gone ahead?"

  "I don't know... may be." Hermione murmured, scanning the area. "But we can't wait around here. Let's go in..."

  They exchanged a brief look. There was no time for second-guessing. With a deep breath, they pushed the door open the rest of the way and slipped inside.

  The low growl of Fluffy echoed through the room, and for a moment, they froze in place. No matter how many times they had seen it, it was still hard to get used to.

  And soon they realized, the growling wasn't the sharp, alert warning of an awake Cerberus. Instead, it was the slow, rumbling snore of a sleeping dog. Fluffy's huge body was stretched out across the floor with his nose twitching in the quiet.

  "He's asleep," Harry whispered in relief. "Someone must have put him to sleep."

  "It's Snape," Hermione said sounding certain. "He must've used the harp to lull him to sleep."

  The trio turned their attention to the harp in the corner, its strings still faintly vibrating.

  Without a word, Hermione pulled out the small music box she'd brought and carefully placed it near the harp. She opened it, letting the soft lullaby play in tune with the harp's notes. There was something comforting in the melody, and for a moment, it seemed like the whole room had fallen into a peaceful trance.

  "Alright," Hermione said after a moment, "let's move on. We don't have much time."

  Together, they approached the trapdoor. Without hesitation, they each grabbed the pull ring and opened it. It gave way easily, and the trio quickly jumped down, landing on something that felt both soft and hard at the same time.

  What they didn't realize was that they weren't alone that came in.

  Maverick, hidden under True Concealment had been following them all along. He had watched their every move since they had entered his office earlier in the day. Not only that, but he had also been tracking Quirrell and Voldemort, making sure nothing went awry.

  The trio now found themselves entangled in a mass of roots, which seemed to reach out and grasp at them. The roots were thick and strong, holding them in place.

  "I can't move!" Ron shouted as he struggled against whatever was holding him.

  "Stay calm," Hermione advised, trying to calm down her racing heart. "It's Devil's Snare. It feeds on fear."

  "I'm not scared!" Ron said, though his shaking hands and wide eyes suggested the exact opposite.

  "Ron, listen to Hermione," Harry added, following Hermione's lead. "We need to stay calm, or we'll only make it worse."

  Hermione then pulled out her wand, spoke the incantation she needed, and then a burst of bright flame shot from the tip. The flames lit up the snare, and with a hiss, the roots loosened their grip while retreating from the heat.

  The three of them tumbled out of the snare's grasp and landed on the stone floor.

  They slowly got to their feet, catching their breath, and glanced down the corridor ahead.

  "This way!" Harry said. He led the way down the only passable path, while Ron and Hermione followed closely behind. The sound of rustling and clinking echoed around them as they moved deeper into the dimly lit stone corridor.

  Maverick trailed just behind while keeping an eye on them, and he was ready to act if any unexpected life-threatening danger arose.

  The trio soon reached the end of the corridor, where a brightly lit room revealed itself. The light flickered and glowed, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. The faint sound of rustling and clinking came from above, giving the room an almost eerie atmosphere.

  Ahead, a heavy wooden door stood firmly closed.

  Harry moved forward cautiously with his wand drawn, but as he reached for the door, he found it locked. They tried pushing, pulling, and even using their wands to unlock it, but nothing worked. It didn't budge.

  "Well, this is great," Ron muttered looking helplessly.

  Hermione's gaze flicked to the ceiling where dozens of keys fluttered above them. She pointed. "There. Those must be there for a reason."

  "Those look like keys... But how are we supposed to get them?" Ron asked staring up. They were obviously far too high up for them to reach.

  They stood for a moment, thinking, when Harry's eyes fell on something at the far side of the room—a broomstick, conveniently there.

  "I know," Harry said quickly, and rushed toward it, grabbed the broom, and mounted it in one beat.

  "There are so many!" Ron exclaimed.

  "I think…" Hermione said, taking one more glance at the door's keyhole and then back at Harry, and the swarm of keys. "It should be the oldest looking one... the one with the most rusted edges."

  Harry nodded, and then without a second thought, zoomed into the air. The keys swarmed around him like a horde of angry bees, buzzing dangerously close to his face as he darted past them. But Harry was no ordinary flyer, and with quick reflexes, he maneuvered through the swarm, locking his sights on the one that best matched Hermione's description.

  And in just under a minute, he managed to catch a battered, rusted key in his hand. He then turned the broom back toward the door and threw the key at Hermione for her to unlock it.

  With the door now open, the trio stepped through into the next room. But when they saw what awaited them, they froze.

  Before them lay a massive chessboard, pieces scattered across it, some knocked over. They blinked, taking in the sight.

  "What now?" Hermione asked with her voice filled with uncertainty.

  Harry looked around as he too wasn't sure what to do. There was a door at the other end of the room, but as they approached, the chess pieces shifted, seemingly alive and ready to move in their way.

  "I think... we have to play," Ron suggested.

  And with that, the trio began their strange game, moving the pieces under Ron's command.

  One by one, the white pieces were captured, and the black pieces fell as well. It wasn't long before the game took a dangerous turn.

  "I'll have to sacrifice my piece," Ron said, his eyes fixed on the queen. The little Gryffindor, brave as his house's motto, wore only determination on his face.

  "No! You can't! There must be another way!" Hermione cried. "If the queen attacks the knight, it'll take you with it."

  "There's no other choice," Ron said firmly, his eyes locking with theirs. "If we give up here, Snape will get the stone before us."

  Harry and Hermione struggled to make the choice. And just then, the little witch's eyes lit up as she thought of something. She reached behind her neck with both hands and took off the necklace around her neck.

  It was something she had bought from Caesar's Magitech during last Christmas. "Here," she said, tossing it to Ron. "It has a shield charm infused in it... one that will trigger when the wearer is in critical danger."

  Ron hesitated for only a moment, staring at the pink heart-shaped stone, before slipping the necklace over his head. However, the next moment, he felt a sense of relief. At least now, his chances of surviving were much greater.

  Maverick, hidden in the shadows, couldn't help but admit to himself that these three children were truly brave. He had watched this scene in the movie and read about it in the book, but seeing it in real life was entirely different. They were not only brave but incredibly courageous as well.

  But this time, he had to give them a little extra help. The defensive alchemical gadget would indeed trigger a shield charm, but that alone wouldn't be enough to stop the power of the sword swing. So, he decided to add a bit of extra protection when it activated.

  With Ron's next command, the pieces moved, and finally, the White Queen lunged at his knight.

  "Be careful!" Harry and Hermione shouted as the queen raised her sword.

  But at the critical moment, the necklace on Ron's neck glowed bright, and suddenly, a gleaming metal shield appeared in front of him, deflecting the queen's blow. There was a sharp clang, and Ron was thrown from the board by the force of the impact. The shield vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  "Ron, are you okay?" Harry and Hermione exclaimed from their spot.

  Ron staggered to his feet, looking slightly dazed. "I think I'll live," he muttered, though he was clearly shaken.

  Soon, the game was finished, and the chess pieces retreated, leaving the way clear.

  But the trio was now uncertain whether to continue forward or return to the safety of the castle.

  "Ron's hurt," Hermione said, looking worriedly at him. "We can't keep going."

  "We can't stop..." The little Weasley protested, but the next moment, he staggered and crouched down, grimacing from the pain in his leg.

  Harry sighed and made up his mind. The safety of his friend was more important than anything to him.

  "You're not in any condition to continue, Ron," He said. "We tried, but—"

  "No. You have to go," Ron cut in. "Even if I can't go, you have to."

  "But—"

  "I'll stay with him, Harry," Hermione interrupted, agreeing with Ron. "It's not Ron, it's not me—it's you who has to save it."

  With his two friends' minds made up and seemingly unwavering, Harry finally nodded, making up his mind. "Alright. I'll go. But Hermione, you must take Ron and get him to the infirmary as soon as possible... and..." He paused, thinking, then added, "Quickly find Professor Caesar. Tell him everything that has happened."

  And with that, Harry turned and walked toward the final door, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

  —————————

  Harry stepped forward taking uneven breaths and entered the next chamber by himself. This time, there would be no Hermione or Ron to help him if things went wrong, and that thought made his heart pound in his chest.

  But he did not stop for a second.

  His grip tightened around his wand as his eyes scanned the room. Then, in the dim glow of the chamber, he saw a figure standing before something he was very familiar with. The Mirror of Erised.

  And it was not Snape who stood there.

  "Professor... Quirrell" Harry stammered, struggling to process what he was seeing.

  The man turned slowly, his pale face illuminated by the soft light. It was indeed the DADA Professor, Quirrell. But not the Quirrell Harry knew. Gone was the nervous, anxious looking professor who shied away from loud voices and sudden movements. Instead, he saw a composed, confident man.

  Harry watched as his usually timid-looking professor sneered at him, curling his lips in a mix of amusement and contempt.

  "Yes, Potter... me," Quirrell said smoothly.

  ---

  Meanwhile, Maverick, hidden under True Concealment and observing everything, suddenly felt his Magical Sense flare as it picked up a spatial fluctuation nearby. A familiar magical signature followed, and he instantly recognized it—it was the headmaster. Sure enough, the next moment, Dumbledore stepped inside, cloaked under an invisibility spell.

  Maverick hesitated only briefly before deciding to reveal himself. He moved closer and sent a subtle magical signal.

  Dumbledore, unsurprised, responded in kind, wordlessly inviting him nearer.

  Both remained hidden from sight and presence, so neither Harry nor Voldy were aware of their movements.

  Had Voldemort been at his full strength, he might have noticed the spatial fluctuation caused by Dumbledore's arrival. But in the Dark Lord's current weakened state, detecting an Archmage's presence was impossible if the said Archmages were trying to remain hidden.

  "Thank you for looking after them in my absence, Professor Caesar," Dumbledore said.

  They were now inside a magical barrier Maverick had just conjured. Within its confines, they could see and hear each other, but to those outside, they would see nothing.

  Maverick did not respond to Dumbledore's sudden gratitude. Instead, he focused on clearing some things from his mind.

  "I've been keeping an eye on them for a while now," Maverick said. "They brought up some rather interesting things to me a few nights ago... something about a Philosopher's Stone being hidden in the school."

  "I see…" Dumbledore murmured, offering no further comment.

  Maverick's gaze sharpened. "I also recently learned that a very dangerous wraith—the lingering remnant of the most recent Dark Lord—has been lurking in this castle for a year, living among the students." Maverick did not hide the accusation in his tone. "You know, Headmaster, I hear all sorts of things about you. Some say you're too incompetent. Some say you're too righteous for your own good. Others claim that behind all your benevolence lies a scheming, manipulative man. And some even believe you're a Dark Lord hiding in plain sight."

  Dumbledore listened without interruption.

  "Tell me honestly. When you hired Quirinus Quirrell, was he already under Voldemort's influence?"

  Dumbledore sighed. If it had been anyone else, he might have brushed off the question. But Maverick wasn't just anyone.

  "No," he admitted. "When I hired him, I'm fairly certain Quirrell was still himself."

  Despite the weight of their conversation, neither of them took their attention off Harry, ready to intervene at any moment.

  Maverick's expression remained unreadable. "Then after… whatever happened to him... why did you still allow such a dangerous entity to roam freely among the students?"

  A brief silence fell between them. Then, as if reaching a decision, Dumbledore began to explain everything.

  He started with Quirrell's appointment as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Back then, Quirrell had been normal. But just days later, when Dumbledore saw him again, something was different. A quick investigation revealed the truth—Voldemort's wraith had latched onto the man.

  There had been little Dumbledore could do because typical magic simply does not work on Wraiths. They were also incredibly difficult to seal, especially one belonging to a powerful and knowledgeable Dark wizard.

  Then he explained his plan. By using the Philosopher's Stone as bait, he ensured that Quirrell remained within the castle until he could find a way to neutralize the threat.

  Maverick was speechless. He wondered if this old man was just lazy or he simply couldn't think of any other way.

  And sensing his disbelief, Dumbledore elaborated on the precautions he had taken. Maverick, as he listened, found them reasonable to some extent, but if he was being honest with himself, it all sounded like the work of a tired old man.

  Quirrell was apparently under Dumbledore's constant surveillance—every step he took, everywhere he went within the castle, Dumbledore was aware of it. There was tracking magic, and the castle itself, with Dumbledore as its highest authority, served as his eyes and ears.

  Yet, despite these measures, many risks remained. One glaring issue was that Dumbledore could not act instantaneously. For example, if Voldemort suddenly got the inexplicable urge to cast the Avada curse on a student from just a foot away, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop it in time.

  It was a reckless gamble, one that put students in danger.

  But Maverick buried those thoughts and continued listening as Dumbledore then began to explain why—why he hadn't simply eradicated Voldemort's wraith outright.

  Apparently, unlike in the original timeline where Dumbledore had only discovered Voldemort's Horcruxes later, this version of events was different. He had known from the very beginning that Voldemort had created Horcruxes for his twisted ambition of immortality.

  It was the moment the old wizard first saw baby Harry that he realized this truth—Harry himself was a Horcrux.

  Since then, he had been searching for a way to remove the soul shard but had found no solution.

  And later, he discovered a second Horcrux, the Gaunt family ring, and in the process, he had been afflicted with a deadly curse—one that was now rapidly consuming his life.

  To this day, he had found only one viable method to truly save little Potter. Voldemort had to strike Harry with a soul-infused killing curse while Harry willingly sacrificed himself. It sounded nonsensical and illogical, but Maverick could not raise the many doubts in his mind because he had very little knowledge in that area.

  Dumbledore explained that when Voldemort struck Harry with the killing curse, it wouldn't be Harry's soul that would perish, but the fragment of Voldemort's soul, thereby destroying the Horcrux.

  Harry would be free of Voldemort's fragment of a soul, but for all that to happen, one very important condition had to be met—Voldemort had to resurrect first.

  Maverick listened carefully. While he wasn't well-versed in this particular field, Dumbledore's reasoning was sound. It even aligned, albeit not exactly, with how things had played out in the original work.

  Dumbledore then explained his intent to train Harry throughout his time at Hogwarts, preparing him for the inevitable confrontation without making him aware of the full truth. Tonight's events were part of that plan. He admitted he hadn't expected Granger and Weasley to accompany Harry, but he had been certain that Maverick would be there.

  When Maverick asked how he had known, Dumbledore merely smiled and muttered some nonsense about an old man's intuition.

  Maverick wasn't convinced, but he didn't press the issue. One thing he was certain of was that Dumbledore couldn't possibly see through his True Concealment, meaning the old thing wasn't entirely sure he was here watching over the children.

  Once again, it meant Dumbledore had taken a gamble, relying solely on his deduction from the trio's recent visit to his office—that Maverick would take action when necessary.

  Was this wise? Or even scheming? No, neither. This damn old man had been betting on things to work out the entire time. It was merely a coincidence that everything had fallen into place in the end.

  No wonder his teacher Edward always looked like he wanted to punch someone in the face whenever he talked about Dumbledore. Maverick wondered what stories might exist between them and made a mental note to ask later.

  Finally, Dumbledore made a sincere request. "Please, Professor Caesar, help Harry... If possible, take him as an apprentice under you—"

  "Stop. No." Maverick raised his hand and interrupted resolutely. No way was he going to be a babysitter. He had far too many things to constantly watch over.

  But—

  He glanced sideways at the old man, the pleading look in his eyes, and couldn't help but twitch his brows.

  Listening to the short but brief explanation cleared most of his doubts and made him realize that this old man wasn't a scheming villain arranging little Harry's life for his own benefit, but was actually doing it for Harry's own good. Although the methods were highly questionable.

  And it had made his impression of the old wizard improve a few points. He can finally send the many portrayals of him he had read about in fanfictions from his previous life, straight into his mental trashcan.

  He sighed. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. I can't. I don't have time. But I will give him attention, help him, aid him even, but I can't take the responsibility of making him an apprentice. At least... not yet."

  "I understand. And thank you, Professor Caesar..."

  "Just call me Maverick, Headmaster," Maverick said, shrugging.

  Dumbledore smiled. "Well then, Maverick, even so... your word to assist young Potter means a lot." He showed a melancholic smile. "You know, his parents' deaths are somewhat my fault as well. I wasn't there when they needed me, when they pledged their service to my order without even questioning... so I truly wish to make it up to them. It will never be enough, but I shall try my best to make up for all the lives lost in Tom's chaos, as much as possible, until this curse finally takes me whole."

  The atmosphere was starting to feel awkward for Maverick, so he quickly changed the topic. He thought about how both Dumbledore's and his goals aligned in some way. He wanted Voldemort to resurrect for his own reasons, and Dumbledore wanted the same to save Harry.

  But Dumbledore had no idea why Maverick would want this, nor would he ever tell him. Maverick would show that he wouldn't oppose Dumbledore's arrangements, but at the same time, he wouldn't approve of them either.

  So, in the future, if anyone dug into how Voldemort managed to resurrect himself under the noses of two Archmages, they would all blame Dumbledore.

  Was he being selfish or inconsiderate? He didn't care.

  "I'll be blunt, Headmaster." His expression hardened as he said. "About your plan—letting Voldemort return just to rid Harry of the horcrux—it has too many 'ifs.'"

  Dumbledore remained silent, listening intently.

  "So You had better keep searching for another way to remove the soul piece from Harry," Maverick warned. "Because if Voldemort returns and threatens innocent lives, I will kill him—whether Harry's Horcrux is still inside him or not. And if he returns with another Horcrux, I will kill him again. And again."

  Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly before nodding.

  "It must happen immediately after his resurrection," Maverick continued. "Harry has to be there to confront him. That's the only way."

  Dumbledore opened his eyes and gave a melancholic smile. "I understand. And I hope things unfold as you say."

  So the old fox and the young fox continued discussing Tom Riddle's resurrection and inevitable death, while the verbal confrontation between Harry and Quirrell reached its climax and finally turned violent.

  Boom!

  ---

  Some time earlier, with Harry Potter and Quirnius Quirrell.

  Harry shook his head, refusing to believe what he was seeing. "Where's... where's Snape then?" His voice wavered with disbelief. He had spent weeks convinced that Snape was after the Philosopher's Stone. It hadn't even occurred to him to suspect Quirrell.

  Quirrell let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. "Ah, yes… Snape," he mused. "I can't blame you for suspecting him... He certainly looks the part of a villain, doesn't he? Always sweeping around in those dark robes, scowling at anyone who dares to breathe in his presence."

  His posture shifted subtly, his shoulders hunching slightly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. When he spoke again, his voice took on that familiar nervous tremor. "P-please, Professor Snape, d-don't hurt me!" he mocked, his expression twisting into one of exaggerated fear before straightening again, his smirk returning. "A convenient role, don't you think? Standing beside someone so obviously suspicious that no one ever looks twice at the weak, stammering fool."

  Harry frowned, taking a cautious step forward. His confusion deepened, and his grip on his wand tightened. None of this made sense.

  "But I heard Snape threatening you earlier—he was trying to force you to tell him how to get past Fluffy!" Harry argued.

  Quirrell's brow creased slightly. "I haven't even spoken to Severus today," he said. "Whatever you think you saw or whoever you heard speaking, I can assure you, it certainly was not Severus Snape." His lips curled into a creepy smile as he finished speaking.

  Harry opened his mouth, but no words came. His mind raced, grasping for answers, but nothing fit. The pieces weren't aligning the way he had expected.