The sun had just slipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted with the soft glow of fading light. Wisps of golden clouds stretched lazily overhead, while below, New York City stirred to life. Streetlights flickered on, the windows of towering buildings shimmered like distant stars, and the steady hum of traffic filled the air as the city embraced the arrival of night.

  Just then, a sleek black Mercedes rolled to a gentle stop in front of a towering building overlooking Central Park. Outside, the city buzzed with the familiar hum of traffic and distant sirens, but inside the car, all was quiet except for the soft, soothing melody playing in the background.

  "Thank you," said the young man in the back seat to the driver before opening the door with a click and stepping out.

  He was dressed in a sharp black suit—elegant and business-like—blending seamlessly into the world of high finance that defined this bustling part of the city.

  His gaze turned to the entrance, where a middle-aged, Middle Eastern-looking man stood waiting. Well-groomed, dressed in a tailored suit, and he looked every bit the high-ranking executive. As the young man approached, the man extended his hand for a handshake.

  "How's the teaching life treating you, Maverick?" the middle-aged man asked, shaking Maverick's hand with a firm grip.

  Maverick smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "It's good... noisy, but good."

  Without wasting time, the two strode inside and made their way to the elevator. As they waited for the doors to slide open, Maverick glanced sideways at the man beside him, who looked completely different now—composed, confident—nothing like the desperate, opportuneless man he met in the Middle East two years ago. It was a remarkable transformation, and Maverick found himself pleased with the change.

  His eyes flicked to the panel above the elevator, watching the numbers count down—10, 9, 8—and just before the doors slid open, he asked, "Ali, how's the other task I asked for coming along?"

  Ding!

  "The Stark couple?" Ali asked, raising an eyebrow as they stepped inside.

  Maverick gave a slight nod.

  Once inside, they turned to face the door.

  "I did…" Ali said after a moment. "Want me to start sending you their daily schedule now?" he asked, pressing the button for their floor.

  "Not yet," Maverick replied, his gaze sharpening as he watched the doors close from both sides. "Just keep an eye on them... But if they're ever driving alone to Washington, I need to know."

  Ali gave Maverick a pointed look but remained silent. He had learned by now that Maverick's moves never made sense at first—until they did. But he trusted his boss completely, knowing when to ask and when to keep quiet.

  The elevator hummed as it began its smooth ascent, the number 27 glowing softly on the panel. It wasn't as fast as the high-speed lifts of the modern world, so Maverick, sensing the stillness of the moment, decided to bring up another topic.

  "Did Aisha make it?"

  "No, she's still in Australia," Ali replied, adjusting his cufflinks with a quick, practiced motion. "The Magic Vision launch is in a week, so she's making sure everything's in place since it's the first branch on that continent."

  Maverick nodded approvingly. "Good..." After a brief pause, he asked again, "Is everyone else here?"

  "Yes," Ali confirmed with a nod, then chuckled at the end. "That fellow Harvey also came…" He glanced at Maverick. "Why did you ask him to come?"

  Maverick smirked, glancing briefly at Ali before turning his attention back to the doors. "I want to see if he has any second thoughts. He'll be an important figure for the future if all goes as planned."

  Ali raised an eyebrow. Once again, his boss seemed to be only half-explaining things. He sighed, and just then, the elevator bell chimed signaling they had reached their floor.

  The doors slid open, revealing a spacious, modern office. This place served only two purposes for now, until he could buy land of his own. For the time being, it was where he gathered his managers from various branches across countries for meetings, and where the Muggle investment projects—still in their early stages—were handled.

  As a result, the office wasn't crowded. Only about a dozen or so employees were present, all of them Muggle.

  Without a word, they moved forward, passing the desks. The staff's curious gazes followed them briefly because they only recognized Ali as the big boss, and had not seen or even heard of his name.

  They soon reached the briefing room, where a long, sleek table dominated the center. On one side of the room, the wide windows offered a breathtaking view of lush Central Park, now bathed in orange hues, stretching out just beyond the glass.

  Seated around the large table were five men, ranging from middle-aged to those in their early thirties. As Maverick and Ali entered, they all stood up, showing respect. Each one of them had been handpicked by Maverick, and each had a story—so they all knew exactly who the big boss was.

  Maverick made his way to the center seat, while Ali took the first empty chair to the right.

  "Take a seat, gentlemen," Maverick said in a flat, professional tone, different from the more familiar one he used with Ali, who was both a friend and subordinate.

  After everyone settled, Maverick's eyes briefly flicked to Ali before he turned his attention to the others.

  "Brief me on everything. How ready are we for the Magic Vision launch?" Maverick said, keeping his voice steady and professional as he addressed the room.

  The first to speak was of course, Ali, the general manager of Maverick's all businesses. He pulled out a few notes from his pocket, glanced around at the group, and then began speaking.

  "The preparations are well underway. We've secured the venue in America with the green light from MACUSA. The setup for the live demonstration is complete, and the team's been rehearsing for the past few days. All the alchemical technology to be used has been tested multiple times. We've also finalized the marketing campaign, with ads going out next week to the wizarding newspapers, as well as to magical ministries all around the world,"

  Maverick listened intently, glancing around the room to gauge the reactions of the branch managers as Ali continued.

  "Everything is on track," Ali said. "The staff for the launch is ready. We've lined up a solid team to handle the live demonstration, and we've ensured that all technical aspects are covered. The VIP guest list is also set, and we've arranged press coverage from news outlets all around the world." he finished, looking satisfied with the report.

  Maverick gave a small nod. "Good. Now, let's hear from the branch managers. How ready are we to begin sales?" he asked, turning his gaze to the man on his left.

  The first manager, a man in his forties, leaned forward and spoke. "We're ready, sir. The stores have been stocked with the product, and our staff is fully trained to handle customer inquiries. We've already received interest from local businesses..."

  Maverick nodded approvingly and looked to the next manager, who was in charge of overseeing production. "Any complications, Mr. Suresh? How many units can our team produce?"

  The man, who also seemed to be in his forties and of Indian descent, replied, "No complications, sir. The production facilities are running smoothly at the secret locations, and we're able to supply around a hundred units of Magic Vision per day. For the other, less complicated alchemy products, we're able to meet demand easily. After the changes you requested are implemented next month, we should be able to produce ten times that amount in a day."

  Maverick nodded approvingly and looked to the next manager, who echoed similar sentiments to the previous two before him.

  After hearing from the rest, Maverick turned his attention to everyone collectively and added, "My teacher Edward will be attending, like before, but this time he won't be taking the stage. He'll be there to show his face, and some of Hogwarts' teachers will also be there as special guests. In addition to the launch, we'll also be announcing that Magic Vision will be used to broadcast the upcoming inter-school Quidditch tournament at Hogwarts. It'll be a big part of our marketing push."

  The room buzzed with interest as Maverick outlined the next steps. He walked the team through the event schedule, going over it like a rehearsal, how each of them would take the stage to showcase specific features of the Magic Vision system.

  This was something he recalled from his previous life, how modern keynotes ran in the 2020s. He had picked up on the strategy and shared it with the team, emphasizing how to highlight the product's key features and keep the energy high throughout the presentation.

  The meeting went on for nearly two hours, with plenty of details covered and questions answered. As the discussions drew to a close, Maverick looked at two men who had been mostly silent during the meeting, only listening. He turned his focus to one of them.

  "Harvey," Maverick asked steadily in a curious tone. "How's your daughter?"

  Harvey, the man Maverick had recruited some time ago, looked up with admiration for Maverick clear in his eyes. "She's better, sir," he replied in a respectful tone. "Much better. The treatment you arranged… it's working. I can't thank you enough."

  ...

  Harvey was a skilled political strategist, known for his silver tongue, and he had a promising future ahead in the political game, should he choose to pursue it. However, Harvey was always more comfortable behind the scenes and had no desire to run for any position himself.

  His life took a devastating turn when his youngest daughter, only two years old, was diagnosed with an aggressive form of brain cancer. The diagnosis was a blow to him and his wife, who had hoped for nothing but the best for their children. They tried every treatment available—every doctor, every specialist—but nothing seemed to work. Desperate, they sought experimental treatments, but time was running out. The doctors were out of options, and Harvey was starting to lose hope.

  They ran out of options, and they ran out of money while trying to find an option. In a last-ditch effort, he had no choice but to work as a member of the campaign staff for a corrupt politician who cared little about the public good but knew how to manipulate the system. Harvey's abilities were of great use to this man, who didn't care much for ethics but did care for results. More importantly, the pay was good.

  Maverick was attending a fundraiser with his mother while visiting her side of the family when he caught the attention of Harvey. Maverick had been in the crowd, listening to the thoughts of various political figures, picking up on their conversations and thoughts to see if there was anyone he could use for his future plans.

  It was during this event that they met, and Harvey's life changed.

  The meeting between Maverick and Harvey was no accident. Maverick had been observing the crowd, listening to the thoughts of various political figures, when he stumbled upon Harvey's troubled mind. After subtly reading his memories, Maverick quickly determined that Harvey was the perfect man for his plans. It may have seemed cruel or selfish, but in Maverick's eyes, this was a win-win situation for both of them. He saw an opportunity to help someone in need, while also gaining a valuable asset in the process.

  Without hesitation, Maverick revealed himself as a wizard. If there were any unexpected thoughts from Harvey, Maverick could always use Lockhart's favorite spell to silence them, but fortunately, it didn't come to that.

  Maverick told him that, with his unique magic, he could cure his daughter. However, the price was that Harvey would have to work for Maverick indefinitely.

  Harvey didn't hesitate. In that moment, with his daughter's life hanging in the balance, he agreed without a second thought. He was willing to sacrifice anything to save her, and Maverick's offer seemed like the last lifeline.

  ...

  Maverick gave a small, satisfied nod. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, how ready are you for the upcoming congressional election?" Maverick asked, leaning forward slightly tugging a smile.

  Harvey's expression changed to one of confidence. "All is good. The campaign is going well. I've been gathering support, and we're on track. My family's backing me as well all the way."

  Maverick's eyes held Harvey's for a moment, while secretly listening to his every thought. Then, seeing there was nothing to worry about, he turned his attention to the next man.

  "Jackson, how are the investments I asked you to handle?"

  Jackson, a sharp muggle marketing genius straightened his posture before speaking. "Everything is going well, sir. I've managed to buy shares in the companies you recommended..."

  Maverick's gaze remained steady as he continued. "What other companies have you invested in?"

  Jackson's expression remained neutral, but his mind worked quickly. "I've diversified the investments, as instructed. A few in the tech sector, a couple in the renewable energy market..." He then pushed a file across the smooth table. "The names and details of my personally selected investments are listed here... apart from the few you've asked to secure no matter what."

  Maverick took the file, opened it, and gave it a brief look. Interesting, he thought, seeing some familiar names as well as a few he hadn't heard of before.

  It only took a moment for him to skim through the list before turning his attention back to Jackson.

  "Good work. Keep it that way," Maverick said with a small smile.

  With that, Maverick turned his attention to the room as a whole. "That's all for today. Everyone will see each other next week at the Magic Vision launch..."

  The men all nodded and began to rise, murmuring their thanks as they filed out. Maverick gave Ali, who stayed until the end, a short nod before saying, "See you next week."

  With a final glance at the now-empty room, Maverick walked toward the window to take a last look at the darkened view of the park. After a moment, he Apparated back to London with a soft pop.

  The Next Morning.

  The sun filtered gently through the curtains of Maverick's room connected to his office at Hogwarts, casting a warm glow over the modern, sleek interior.

  The early light brought a sense of quiet anticipation. Everything was proceeding smoothly, just as planned. Maverick turned, brushing aside thoughts of the future as he gathered his focus, preparing for the plans awaiting him at Hogwarts.

  —————————

  For centuries, the wizarding world had remained unchanged, its traditions set in stone, its ways of life moving at a pace that would have seemed unbearably slow even to the most patient of magical beings. While the Muggle world raced ahead—wires crisscrossing cities, machines shrinking to the size of a pocket watch, and news traveling faster than a broomstick—the world of magic remained stubbornly stuck in its old ways.

  Magicals relied on newspapers to learn about the world beyond their own doorstep. The Daily Prophet dictated what the British magical population knew, just as Le Monde Magique did for the French, and a handful of others served their respective regions. There was no real connection between these scattered communities, no swift exchange of knowledge. News traveled slowly, sometimes taking days to reach the right ears—by which time the event itself was already history.

  That all changed in 1991. Historians would later call it the turning point, the moment when the wizarding world finally stepped into the age of information. And it was all thanks to a single invention.

  A young alchemist—smart, creative, and unwilling to follow old ways—introduced a device unlike anything that existed at the time, at least not in the wizarding world. For the first time, witches and wizards could see and hear events as they unfolded, their magical world finally catching up to the speed of the non-magical one. Moving images, real-time news, voices and faces from across the world appearing as though conjured from thin air.

  It was the beginning of something new.

  ●○?○?○?○?○●

  The last week of September passed steadily as Maverick fulfilled his duties as the professor of Muggle Science and Alchemy, all while balancing his teaching with overseeing the Hogwarts Quidditch teams' practice sessions.

  When the weekend arrived, marking the end of the month, he once again left the school for America to join his team at the release event for his company's latest product.

  Thanks to his teacher's support and the connections he had built over time, he managed to gather an impressive number of influential figures from the magical world to attend. Among them were the Flamels, master alchemists from across the globe, ministers of major magical nations, and even the deans of some of the most prestigious magical schools—all coming to witness the event.

  For the magical community, the experience was entirely new. Until now, new inventions had only been introduced through newspapers, with no live demonstrations to spark true excitement. So, it was no surprise that the invitees' curiosity and interest were fully captured throughout the presentation.

  Maverick, along with the managers of his company, took the stage one by one to present the device.

  Right from the start, he openly admitted that it was a replica of Muggle television, and no one so much as raised an eyebrow at the fact that it was based on a Muggle invention. The audience was made up of influential figures who knew exactly what a television was. The reason there were no objections was simple—they all understood that, until now, no one in the wizarding world had managed to create anything like it.

  Maverick had no doubt that after witnessing its success, alchemists around the world would attempt to replicate it. To some extent, they might succeed in recreating certain features. However, the most crucial aspects—such as broadcasting and cost-effective production—would remain out of reach without the knowledge of how to combine technology and magical alchemy.

  To protect his work, Maverick had implemented multiple security measures. Anyone who tried to dismantle the device would find its inner workings heavily encrypted, making it nearly impossible to decipher. And if brute force was used, the runic circuits would be completely destroyed, leaving nothing to study.

  The presentation started with the most basic function—playing moving pictures with sound—before revealing more groundbreaking features. One by one, the managers introduced new applications, from real-time news broadcasts delivered by wizards and witches to instant information sharing across vast distances. They even demonstrated live coverage of major events, making it possible to reach a global audience like never before.

  During the presentation, he was actually leaching signals from Muggle satellites for the broadcasting demonstration—but the audience didn't need to know that. Besides, that would soon change, as he already had plans to launch his own satellites. And unlike Muggles, he didn't need a massive 25-story building size rocket to send a satellite into space. Because, well… magic.

  After demonstrating the device's ability to share information, it was revealed that it could also be used for entertainment. Wizards could now enjoy the experience of watching a play from the comfort of their own homes. In a world where reading books or newspapers was the main form of passing time, this was a whole new kind of entertainment.

  Everything Muggles had achieved with television, Maverick had not only replicated but even improved upon using magic. One of the biggest surprises came when he revealed its affordability. No one had expected such a versatile device to be within reach of most wizarding families, yet with a bit of saving, nearly anyone could afford it.

  Standing before the assembled crowd, he and his team explained the process with clear detail, making sure the audience fully understood just how much the magical world stood to gain from his product.

  It was nothing short of a revolution. Magic Vision opened doors to possibilities previously unimagined in countless fields, and the event's success surpassed expectations.

  The very next week, as word spread through newspapers and word of mouth, orders flooded in from all over the world—so many that his production team struggled to keep up. A large part of this success came from the modern marketing techniques he had used—strategies that wouldn't appear even in the non-magical world for years.

  With Magic Vision's triumph, the name Caesar gained recognition, and the various products under his brand skyrocketed in popularity. His other businesses flourished alongside it, swept up in the momentum of his achievements.

  Naturally, offers poured in from powerful figures eager to become his business partners. But Maverick turned down every single one. He had no intention of sharing the cake—the only ones with a slice were his teacher's family, who held a share in the company.

  Those he rejected were understandably dissatisfied, but who would dare to act against him? Not when the name Edward Garling was related to the brand. His teacher's influence wasn't something that wealth alone could challenge.

  ●○?○?○?○?○●

  After the successful launch of Magic Vision, Maverick returned to his routine at Hogwarts, dividing his time between teaching, overseeing Quidditch practices, and managing his various projects.

  October passed quickly, the days growing colder as the castle settled into its familiar rhythm. Before he knew it, the final day of the month had arrived.

  It was a crisp Thursday afternoon. A thin layer of frost clung to the windowsills, shimmering faintly in the pale sunlight. Outside, the last of the autumn leaves rustled in the breeze, and birds chirped cheerfully despite the chill in the air. Morning classes had just ended, and the corridors filled with the usual swarm of students, their excited chatter echoing through the stone halls.

  From his office window, Maverick watched the flow of students moving between classrooms, some deep in conversation, others rushing to their next lesson.

  Down below, two familiar figures emerged from their Charms class. Harry and Ron walked side by side, talking animatedly about their latest lesson—the Levitation Charm—and, more specifically, what had happened during class.

  They passed by other students without paying much attention, too caught up in their conversation to notice who might be listening. But not far from them, a bushy-haired girl suddenly rose from where she had been sitting. She brushed past them quickly, her face set with a tight, unhappy expression, as though she had just overheard something upsetting.

  Maverick furrowed his brows, his gaze following her retreating figure as she disappeared down the corridor. He knew this moment well. If events unfolded as they had in the story, tonight's Halloween feast would offer more than just pumpkin pasties and floating decorations. Tonight was the night Harry, Ron, and Hermione would truly become friends—the night of the troll in the dungeons.

  Once they had all vanished into the depths of the castle, Maverick turned away from the window. He had a class to teach. Pushing aside thoughts of what was to come, he left his office and made his way to the Muggle Science classroom, where his next lesson was about to begin.

  —————————

  The Great Hall was a sight to behold, decorated for the Halloween feast with an eerie yet exciting charm. Hundreds of floating pumpkins drifted overhead, their carved faces glowing softly with candlelight. Bats flapped their wings as they swooped through the air, while the enchanted ceiling reflected the dark, cloudy sky outside.

  The long tables were filled with golden plates stacked high with food—roast meats, buttery potatoes, thick slices of pumpkin pie, and jugs of warm, spiced cider. The delicious smells filled the hall, mixing with the lively chatter and bursts of laughter from students enjoying the evening.

  The excitement was contagious. First-years sat wide-eyed, taking in the spectacle of their first Hogwarts Halloween, while the older students, though used to the tradition, were just as eager to enjoy the night. Conversations flowed from one table to another—some about the food, others about the upcoming Quidditch tournament set to begin next week.

  The staff table was just as lively, with the professors looking relaxed as they enjoyed their meal and the cheerful atmosphere. On one side, Flitwick chatted happily with Septima, chuckling over something between them, while on the other, Hagrid enthusiastically told a story to Professor Sprout, his massive hands gesturing wildly as he spoke.

  Even Snape seemed less irritable than usual, though he mostly kept to himself, occasionally casting sharp looks at the students who were getting a bit too rowdy.

  Meanwhile, McGonagall, Steven, Hooch, and Maverick were deep in conversation, their voices low against the lively chatter around them, as they reviewed the final preparations for the upcoming weekend when Hogwarts would welcome the other schools for the Quidditch tournament.

  It couldn't be helped—after all, the four of them were the only ones truly overseeing the entire event, while the others, especially Dumbledore, were more like hands-off shopkeepers.

  McGonagall, in particular, had the most on her plate. Between teaching all seven years, fulfilling her duties as Deputy Headmistress, and now overseeing such a large-scale event, her schedule had never been more packed. She rarely had time to meet with them, so tonight, with all of them gathered at the same table, she seized the opportunity to catch up on everything.

  In the center of the table, Dumbledore's attention gracefully shifted between the professors' conversations, his ever-present smile lighting up the exchanges. He effortlessly engaged with everyone, weaving his charm into the lively chatter that filled the hall.

  And being the ever-observant man he was, Dumbledore quickly noticed that four of his colleagues were speaking in quiet voices, much softer than the lively chatter around them. It seemed like they were discussing something serious and work-related, and to him, this wasn't quite the time for it.

  He considered interrupting. After all, this was a festive occasion, not a morning briefing.

  So he leaned slightly toward their side and spoke just loud enough for the four of them to hear. "Surely, whatever business is keeping you so serious can wait until after the feast? It would be a shame not to enjoy such a splendid evening."

  The Headmaster's voice made the four of them pause and glance in his direction, where they saw, as always, his signature smile.

  They exchanged a brief, knowing look before the most senior among them took the lead in acknowledging the situation. As adults, they didn't need to be told twice and quickly realized they had become a bit too disconnected from the rest of the festive crowd.

  "You're right, Albus," McGonagall said with a small sigh, nodding. "Let's not spoil the evening."

  "Not at all, Minerva. I'm sure it was important," the wise wizard said warmly, effortlessly clearing any tension. He then glanced at the others before settling his gaze on Steven. "Mr. Steven, how is school life treating you so far?"

  Steven straightened in his seat, glancing down at his plate for a moment before looking back up at Dumbledore. "It's been an adjustment, but overall, it's been great. The students are incredible, and the staff is, well, just as great."

  The old wizard's eyes twinkled as he leaned forward slightly, his smile widening. "And the team?" he asked. "I trust they are ready for the challenge?"

  "Oh, absolutely," Steven replied confidently, and glanced over at the others.

  Dumbledore chuckled lightly, his eyes twinkling as he looked around at the four of them. "I know you've all been working tirelessly, and I can't thank you enough. Truly. I have every confidence you'll bring out the best in the students."

  McGonagall smiled warmly with pride. "The players' teamwork has exceeded my expectations," she said, glancing toward her precious students. "I must admit, the school hasn't felt this united in... well, as far back as I can remember."

  The lighthearted conversations continued, with everyone now caught up in the liveliness of the evening, contributing their laughter and chatter to the festive air.

  Time passed slowly, minute by minute. Maverick enjoyed the jolly atmosphere just like everyone else, but every so often, his eyes would dart over to the Gryffindor table. This was Halloween, after all—always a time of trouble in this castle—and he hadn't forgotten what was to happen tonight.

  He watched Harry and Ron happily enjoying their treacle tart and pumpkin pasties, completely unaware that their actions earlier in the morning had upset the third member of their soon-to-be trio.

  The little know-it-all, as brilliant as she was, was still only eleven years old, and it hadn't taken much to break her heart.

  Maverick scanned the rows of the four long tables a couple of times, just to be sure, and true to his guess, Granger was nowhere to be seen—probably the only person missing from the feast.

  And then, without warning, the doors to the Great Hall swung open with a loud thud, startling everyone—except, of course, himself.

  Heads turned, and the lively chatter of the hall died down almost instantly. He watched Professor Quirrell as he rushed in, his face pale and eyes wide with panic, clearly consumed by frantic urgency. His usual stammering was absent, replaced by a frantic, almost practiced sense of haste. Quirrell stumbled toward the staff table, nearly tripping over his robes as he made his way through the hall, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps.

  Finally, he reached the staff table, leaning heavily against it as though the weight of the world was pressing on his shoulders. He gasped for breath, his words coming in frantic bursts. "Trolls—in the basement! I—I thought... you should know—" Then, without warning, his head tilted to one side, and crumpled to the floor, face first with a loud thud, unconscious.

  Tsk, tsk. Old Voldy is so merciless... Maverick thought, observing the dramatic fall. Quirrell's nose was probably broken from that impact.

  Maverick couldn't help but mentally applaud the man's acting, rating a solid 10 for that performance. The whole Great Hall was fooled—except for him and, likely, the old man sitting not far from him.

  The room was silent for a moment as the realization sank in. The young wizards and witches at the tables sat frozen, staring at the unconscious form of Quirrell. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, panic erupted. Some students scrambled to their feet, rushing toward the doors, while others whispered frantically among their groups.

  The younger ones, unable to comprehend the situation, broke into screams that echoed through the hall. Chaos spread like wildfire, and the once festive atmosphere turned into a disordered frenzy.

  And then—

  "Saaaailenceee—"

  Dumbledore stood up, his magically amplified voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. The entire hall froze, his commanding tone ringing sharply in every ear. Students immediately stopped their panicked movements, a few stumbling back into their seats in shock. With a single word, the Headmaster's authority brought order back to the Great Hall.

  ...

  Meanwhile, Maverick caught onto something in Quirrell's frantic words before he collapsed. His eyes narrowed as he turned sharply to McGonagall beside him. "He said trolls, didn't he? Plural?"

  Before McGonagall could respond, both of them felt a majestic wave of magic ripple past them, emanating from Dumbledore. As Great-Magus, they recognized the Headmaster extending his Magical Sense to scan the entirety of Hogwarts.

  Not one to hesitate, Maverick unleashed his own magic, disregarding the questions that might come later. McGonagall, while perfectly capable, lacked the same precision in controlling pure magic. She could, of course, use Magical-Sense, but navigating a maze-like castle such as Hogwarts would take her time—time they did not have. It was better to let those with sharper control locate the threats and advise accordingly.

  It didn't take long for Maverick to lock onto the targets. His brows furrowed as he sensed two... no, three massive creatures lumbering aimlessly in the basement near the girls' bathroom, as well as, a single student. And one of the trolls was nearing dangerously close to the bathroom entrance.

  Maverick and Dumbledore snapped out of their focused states at the same time, and their eyes met, followed by a nod of mutual understanding.

  "I'll go," Maverick said firmly.

  Dumbledore nodded and turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, you go as well."

  He turned again, his gaze shifting between Snape and Flitwick before settling on the latter. "Filius, you'll follow. Severus, you'll come with me... There are three trolls, and I suspect one of them may be an Ogre. They're all in the castle dungeons, near the girls' bathroom..."

  While Dumbledore was issuing instructions to the other professors, Maverick was already in motion. In one fluid motion, he placed a hand on the staff table and vaulted over to the other side. With another powerful leap into the air, he launched himself forward. A resounding boom echoed through the hall as he shot over the astonished students' heads, disappearing into the corridor like a bolt of lightning.

  McGonagall and Flitwick were not far behind. With practiced precision, both conjured magical constructs beneath their feet, elevating themselves above the students. Though they weren't exactly flying like Maverick, their speed was still impressive to the young wizards, who watched in awe as the two professors swiftly disappeared into the corridors.

  "Prefects of each grade, please escort the students of your house back to their dormitories in an orderly and calm manner," Dumbledore's magically amplified voice resonated through the hall, drawing the students' attention back to the staff table. "Do not panic, and trust that your professors will handle this situation!"

  He continued, addressing the remaining staff. "Hooch, Hagrid, Argus, Steven, and Septima, you will remain here with the students of each house." His gaze then shifted to the others. "Severus, Poppy, follow me to the dungeons. Unfortunately, the Halloween feast must end here."

  No one voiced any objections. Under Dumbledore's clear directives, the prefects began organizing their housemates, leading them in an orderly fashion out of the Great Hall, accompanied by their assigned professors.

  Dumbledore himself acted last, ensuring everything was in order before taking his turn. His primary responsibility was the safety of everyone within the castle, and in just a short span of moments, he had set everything into motion.

  With a graceful wave of his wand, he conjured a construct beneath his feet. Then, alongside Snape and Pomfrey, he rose into the air and surged toward the dungeons, following the others who had gone ahead.

  The once-lively Great Hall, now subdued and tense, emptied swiftly as students were ushered away, and the staff moved with purpose to handle the looming threat.

  —————————

  Hermione Granger had not been having a very good day. In fact, it was fair to say she hadn't been having a good time since she first boarded the train to the magical school of Hogwarts.

  When she was told she was a witch—a human born with magic—Hermione had imagined an incredible new life awaiting her. As someone who always aspired to excel in everything she did, she had set her sights on becoming the best witch Hogwarts had ever seen.

  But reality had been far less kind. From her very first day, Hermione had been met with scolding or ridicule from her schoolmates and classmates. She couldn't understand why. Whenever she noticed someone making a mistake, her instinct was to correct it. She was only trying to help, offering her advice with the best of intentions. But why? Why didn't anyone appreciate her efforts? Why didn't anyone like her?

  Today had been no different—if anything, it had been worse. Her classmates had mocked her yet again, this time openly ridiculing her for not having any friends. The words cut deeper than she cared to admit, leaving her heart aching and her confidence in tatters. It hurt, more than she thought it ever could, a pain that lingered and refused to fade.

  And during the Halloween feast, as the festive atmosphere enveloped everyone around her, she felt more alone than ever—like an outsider who didn't truly belong. She sat quietly, watching her classmates laugh, their faces alight with joy, their voices brimming with excitement. To her, it felt like peering through a window at a world she could see but never touch, a world that felt impossibly out of reach.

  She couldn't stay there any longer. She had to get away.

  Hermione ran, her steps echoing in the empty corridors. She needed somewhere to hide, somewhere she could cry without anyone seeing her. The first place that came to mind was the girls' bathroom on the second floor. She figured it would be empty, even the resident ghost likely absent during such a festive time.

  Once inside, she locked herself in one of the stalls and finally let go. The tears she had been holding back all day poured out in sobs, each one heavier than the last. The walls of the stall became her sanctuary, a place where she could release the weight of her loneliness without fear of judgment.

  She stayed there, pouring out her emotions until there was nothing left to cry. The release didn't make her feel any better—her chest still felt heavy, her heart still hollow. But as her stomach growled in protest, she decided she might as well return to the Great Hall and get some food. She was, after all, hungry.

  Stepping out of the stall, she hesitated for a moment, glancing at the mirror. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying. Her puffy, tear-streaked face would make it all too obvious.

  Moving to the sink, she loosened the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. The chill stung, but it helped soothe the swelling. As she washed, she stole glances at her reflection. Her round, baby-fat cheeks looked even puffier now, the evidence of her breakdown plain to see. She splashed her face a few more times in an attempt to reduce the redness.

  Thud.

  The faint sound made her pause.

  She glanced at the water pooling in the sink, rippling ever so slightly as it slowly drained.

  Thud.

  Her heart quickened as the sound repeated, louder this time. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

  Thud. Thud.

  Each tremor sent small ripples across the water. Hermione froze, her head still bowed over the sink, staring at the ripples as dread crept up her spine. That was when she saw it—a shadow, large and imposing, falling across the white porcelain of the sink. The shadow was far larger than her small frame, and the realization sent a chill coursing through her veins.

  She wanted to turn, to confirm what she feared, but terror rooted her to the spot.

  Grrrrrr.

  A low, guttural growl rumbled behind her, and Hermione's blood turned to ice. She didn't need to look to know—it wasn't a ghost. Whatever it was, it was massive, and it was standing right behind her.

  Taking a shaky gulp, she forced herself to raise her head, her eyes darting to the mirror.

  Grrrrrr.

  The reflection was monstrous. A hulking, green-skinned creature towered behind her, nearly reaching the ceiling. Its thick arms flexed as it gripped a mace that looked more like a giant, spiked log—easily two times her size.

  Her breath hitched. As she stared, the monster raised its mace, the heavy weapon poised to strike. If that blow landed, she knew she wouldn't survive—it would be a messy, brutal end.

  Pure instinct took over. She ducked, her small body moving faster than the creature could react, and bolted back into one of the stalls.

  BOOM!

  The deafening crash of the mace striking the sink echoed through the bathroom, shards of porcelain flying everywhere. Hermione barely made it into the stall, slamming the door shut behind her. To the monster, she was nothing more than a scurrying mouse—small, quick, and annoyingly hard to catch.

  Hermione pressed her back against the stall door, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She clamped her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her ragged breathing as the heavy thuds of the monster's footsteps drew closer. The wooden door separating her from the monster felt far too thin, and every instinct screamed at her to keep quiet and stay still.

  Boom!

  The monster's mace struck the stall next to hers, splintering wood and sending shards flying. Hermione flinched as the sound reverberated through the tiny space, her entire body trembling. The creature growled in frustration, the sound like grinding boulders, and she could feel the vibrations in the floor beneath her.

  Her mind raced. What could she do? She had her wand, but she hadn't learned any spells that could help in a situation like this. Panic clawed at her thoughts as she wracked her brain for anything, anything that might save her.

  Running was useless. The monster was too big, too strong. Her only chance was to stay hidden and pray it lost interest.

  But the monster wasn't giving up.

  BAM!

  The mace struck again, this time hitting the stall door directly. Hermione screamed as the impact sent cracks spidering across the wood. The entire structure shook, and she scrambled backward, pressing herself into the far corner.

  "Think, Hermione, think!" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the creature's snarls. She scanned the tiny stall, searching desperately for anything—anything—that could help her. Her eyes landed on the toilet, an idea sparking in her mind. It was insane, but it might be her only chance.

  Another crash. The door splintered further, and she could see the creature's monstrous hand gripping the edge, pulling it apart as if it were made of paper.

  Without hesitation, Hermione climbed onto the toilet seat, her small hands gripping the tank for balance. Holding her breath, she reached up to the overhead pipes, her fingers brushing against the cold metal.

  The monster let out a deafening roar, and with one final smash, the stall door was gone. The monster stepped forward, its bloodshot eyes locking onto her tiny figure perched precariously above the toilet. It grinned, revealing jagged yellow teeth, and raised its mace once more.

  "Come on, come on," Hermione muttered, her fingers fumbling with the pipe. It was loose—she could feel it. She yanked with all her might just as the monster swung.

  The mace crashed into the toilet below, shattering porcelain and sending water spraying everywhere. At the same moment, the pipe came free with a metallic groan, and Hermione clutched it like a makeshift weapon.

  She leaped down, water splashing around her feet, and swung the pipe with all her strength at the monster's knee with a loud thud.

  For a split second, everything went quiet. To the monster, it was nothing more than a small tap, like a needle prick. It didn't even flinch.

  Hermione gulped, her body trembling as she slowly raised her eyes to meet the creature's gaze. Its grin spread wider, its jagged teeth gleaming as it prepared to crush her.

  Panic surged through her veins. She couldn't fight it. She had to run.

  Without a second thought, Hermione darted to the side, her legs carrying her as fast as they could, but the ogre was quicker than she expected. It swung its mace horizontally, smashing through the stalls and toilets in one swift motion, destroying everything in its path.

  Hermione ducked just in time, but the debris—wood, ceramic, and broken fixtures—pelted her from all sides. Pain flared across her body as jagged shards of wood and other debris tore into her, some even piercing her skin.

  It would have been excruciating for anyone, but the surge of adrenaline flooding her system dulled the pain, making it more manageable, though it was still sharp and agonizing.

  She staggered to her feet, gritting her teeth against the fire in her body, and crawled backward until her back hit the cold, unforgiving stone wall. Her clothes were soaked, drenched in a mix of blood, sweat, and water from the broken pipes above. Her hair was a tangled mess, some strands falling across her face, sticking to her skin.

  But she hadn't given up. Breathing heavily, Hermione scanned the ruins around her, her heart sinking. There was nothing but destruction. No escape. No one to help.

  She was just a first-year, still struggling to grasp the basics of magic, with no offensive spells in her repertoire. She had no other skills, and physically, after that desperate stunt earlier, she knew she was no match for something this monstrous.

  She might as well die trying. Maybe, if she died, people would remember her as brave, not as the nuisance she felt like now. At least they would say she faced the beast head-on, without running, without fear. Perhaps that would be enough to make her feel like her life meant something.

  The thought was a bitter comfort. The tears that welled up in her eyes didn't fall. They hovered, but nothing came.

  Thud. Thud.

  The sound of the ogre's footsteps grew louder, and Hermione's spine stiffened. It was closing in on her. She could hear the dragging sound of its mace against the stone, and the growls of satisfaction as it prepared to finish what it started.

  She was running out of time.

  Shakily, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her wand. It felt small and fragile in her trembling hand. She forced herself to calm down, taking slow, steady breaths.

  Think, Hermione. Think.

  Her mind raced. What could she do? What magic could she use? Then, something clicked. Charms class.

  She remembered Professor Flitwick's lesson from this morning. She had learned how to levitate small objects using the Levitation Charm—Wingardium Leviosa. If she could just use it on the ogre's mace, keep it suspended in mid-air long enough for her to escape… It was a crazy idea, but it was the only plan she had.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she focused on the heavy, massive weapon in front of her. It was worth a shot. She just had to make it work.

  With trembling hands, she stretched out her wand, her grip unsteady as the beast loomed over her, raising its massive mace to smash her into the ground like a helpless insect.

  "W—Wing... Gard..."

  RROOOOOOAAAR!

  She couldn't finish the incantation. The fear, the pressure, the overwhelming presence of the beast was too much for her to handle.

  The world around her seemed to blur as the beast's growl echoed in her ears, freezing her in place. At the very last moment, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the inevitable. Her trembling form stilled as she allowed herself one final comfort—a fleeting escape into the happiest memories of this new life of magic.

  First, her mom and dad. How she missed them now, their reassuring presence, their warm hugs. But in this moment, she didn't want them anywhere near her. She couldn't bear the thought of them in such danger.

  Then there was the magic—wondrous, incredible magic. Her mind wandered to moments in class that made her heart flutter with excitement.

  She remembered the deputy headmistress and head of her house, a stern but kind woman who often praised her sharp mind. And Professor Flitwick, the short, charming Charms professor who never failed to encourage her. Then, there was the Alchemy professor, Caesar. He hadn't openly praised her like the others, but she could feel it in the way he treated her—with respect, as if he truly valued her talent. She still remembered his words: "You'll make a fine alchemist one day."

  "An alchemist, huh?" she thought, the idea bittersweet. Would that have been her future if this beast wasn't about to end it all? If only she had more time…

  —————————

  Swish. Swish. Swish.

  Maverick flew through the castle corridors, zigzagging with desperate urgency. His focus was sharp, locked on the girls' bathroom where the supposed troll had just entered.

  His Magical-Sense picked up the scene unfolding inside—a little girl, Hermione, entirely unaware of the danger closing in on her.

  His mind raced. Harry and Ron were supposed to be here to play the heroes in this incident, but his Magical-Sense didn't detect their presence anywhere near the bathroom. He didn't have the time to locate them now—they were either late or not coming at all.

  This wasn't how it was supposed to be, he thought irritably.

  Nothing about this incident matched the story he remembered. First, there weren't just one but three trolls rampaging through the castle. Second, these creatures were different.

  They felt powerful—far too strong for two first-years to handle, even by some ridiculous stroke of luck. But the one heading toward Hermione? That one was different. Its presence radiated an oppressive strength, far beyond what could be considered a troll.

  Even its appearance was different.

  This wasn't a mindless brute, he thought. Its movements were calculated, its towering form exuding an air of menace. Whatever this creature was, it was far more dangerous than the others—and Hermione had no chance against it.

  Was it even a troll? Or had the noseless bastard brought something else entirely?

  Dammit.

  He cursed under his breath. He had been relying far too much on the story unfolding as he remembered it, trusting the narrative to guide things along. His mistake—his carelessness—had put an innocent girl in mortal danger.

  When did I become so reckless? he chastised himself. Trusting in superstition, in a plot he wasn't even sure was intact anymore—it had been a foolish gamble. And someone else was about to pay the price for his foolishness.

  Careless! Careless!

  The bitter reprimand echoed in his mind. He swore to himself, then and there, to never let such negligence guide his actions again.

  Swooosh!

  Racing up the staircase from the first floor to the second, Maverick bolted toward the bathroom, his heart pounding.

  Shit!

  Through the wrecked doorway, he saw the monster—its hulking green body towering over Hermione as she dodged its relentless attacks. The girl was moving desperately, her small frame barely escaping the crushing blows of the creature's enormous mace.

  Boom! Crash! Boom!

  Maverick's teeth clenched as he surged forward. He could strike now—unleash a devastating attack—but Hermione was too close. She'd be caught in the aftermath.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  ROAAAARRR!

  The green-skinned beast, definitely not a troll and more akin to an ogre, raised its colossal mace, the weapon poised to obliterate Hermione in a single strike.

  Moving at his fastest speed, Maverick lunged forward, extending his arm and releasing a powerful binding hex.

  The spell shot through the air like a lightning bolt, colliding with the ogre just as the mace reached its halfway point. The magic flared to life, thick ropes materializing from thin air and coiling tightly around the creature's massive limbs. The bindings wrapped its arms, torso, and legs, rendering it completely immobile.

  The mace froze in place, trembling slightly as the ogre's restrained grip struggled against the binding hex. It roared in fury, a guttural growl that shook the very air around them, its muscles bulging as it strained to break free.

  For the first time, Maverick truly felt the raw, terrifying physical strength of the creature. His hex, imbued with his powerful magic, was barely holding on. He was certain this monster's physique was far stronger than a Great-Magus, possibly even approaching Arch-Magus level. That meant this creature's strength was comparable to Captain America—no, even stronger, if his teacher's words were accurate.

  (Author's Note: This is only his assumption.)

  The magical ropes shimmered with strain, threatening to snap under its relentless power.

  But it didn't matter, and he needed was this short window.

  Woosh!

  He bolted forward, reaching the little witch slumped against the wall in mere seconds. Hermione's eyes were tightly shut, her face pale as she braced for the inevitable. She had surrendered to what she believed was the end, completely unaware to his arrival and what was happening now.

  Without hesitation, he scooped her up, cradling her in a secure hold. Despite the urgency, he moved carefully, now seeing the full extent of her injuries—scratches, bruises, and shards of debris embedded in her skin, staining her robes with streaks of blood.

  She flinched slightly at the movement, likely from the pain, but her eyes remained closed.

  "You're safe now," he murmured, though he wasn't sure if she could hear him.

  He dashed out of the bathroom and into the safety of the corridor just as the ogre let out another earth-shaking roar. Behind them, the magical bindings strained, the shimmering ropes snapping one by one under the beast's immense strength.

  It didn't take long.

  SNAP!

  The ogre let out a mighty roar and broke free from its binds. At once, its huge, bloodshot eyes scanned the room and quickly fixed on the small human with murderous intent that promised only death.

  However, the odds had changed now. Maverick no longer needed to worry about Hermione getting caught in the crossfire. He gently set her down against the wall, ensuring she was far enough, before turning back toward the beast.

  At the same time, the ogre lunged forward, its heavy footsteps shaking the floor as it barreled toward him, raising its massive mace high, ready to strike with all its might.

  Maverick didn't flinch.

  With Hermione secure, he had the freedom to act without restraint. As the monster got closer ready to swung its massive arm, he stretched out his hands and summoned his magic.

  "Transmute!"

  The air around him shimmered, reality bending as raw magic surged into his transfiguration. In an instant, the walls and floor around the ogre warped, twisting like liquid, then solidifying into thick, glinting chains. It all happened in less than a second.

  They surged at it like serpents, each link alive with Maverick's intent. They slammed into the creature from all sides, coiling around its arms, legs, and torso with crushing force. The ogre snarled and thrashed violently, but the chains only tightened, restraining its every movement.

  The bathroom and corridor transformed into jagged metallic spikes erupting from the floor and walls to further pin the beast in place. The sound of clinking metal and the ogre's enraged roars filled the air, but its movements slowed until the chains finally immobilized it for good.

  But that didn't stop the ogre from growling, even with the thick transfigured steel covering its mouth like tape.

  Maverick then completed the final act. With one hand lowered and the other pointed forward, his index finger aimed directly at the beast. In a commanding voice, he chanted, "Nindra Shanti..."—a powerful sleeping charm he had learned from India.

  The magic wrapped around the ogre instantly. Its growls dwindled to soft whimpers, its bloodshot eyes began to close, and then... silence.

  Everything happened in a matter of seconds.

  The hulking green monster now lay completely trapped and unconscious, its massive form bound in a cocoon of unbreakable metal.

  Maverick let out a long sigh.

  If he had wanted to, a single Avada Kedavra would have ended it all in an instant. But he didn't want to resort to that. There would be no consequences, of course, since it was done to save another life and out of necessity. But that wasn't the point. People would see him differently the moment they found out.

  And they would know. Even if he cast it without a wand, that wouldn't matter. He was the only one here capable of performing the curse.

  He pushed those thoughts aside for the moment and turned to the little girl. Maverick raised an eyebrow. Her eyes were wide open now, filled with awe and amazement as she looked at him.

  Guess she realized she wasn't about to die after all. He thought.

  He smiled warmly at her, took a few steps forward, and crouched down beside her.

  ...

  "Stay still, Ms. Granger. I'm going to perform some diagnostics spells. It'll only take a moment."

  The little witch bobbed her head up and down like a chicken.

  Maverick chuckled softly at her reaction and retrieved his wand. He waved it gently over her head, and a soft, shimmering glow enveloped her. His magical senses flared, immediately picking up on the extent of the injuries on her body.

  "Prof... Professor... You saved me," Hermione's voice quivered, the words breaking through her hesitation. Tears welled up in her eyes, finally breaking free as they slid down her cheeks. "I... I thought I was going to die. I was sure I was going to die."

  Maverick's expression softened, and he made a gentle shushing sound, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hush, now," he murmured, his voice firm yet gentle. "It's our responsibility as professors to protect the students of this school—"

  Boom!

  Crash!

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  His words were cut short as the sounds of loud impacts reverberated from somewhere nearby.

  Hermione stiffened, her small frame tensing at the noise, but Maverick remained calm. He raised his hand and gave her a gentle pat on the head, hoping to reassure her.

  His magical senses stretched out, feeling the pulses of magic in the air, and quickly assessed the situation. McGonagall and Flitwick were nearby, each immobilizing one of the trolls. Yes, this time they were truly trolls—big, lumbering beasts with thick, ugly skin.

  A sigh escaped his mouth as he sensed the professors had things under control. Not long after, the sounds of battle faded, replaced by silence.

  He glanced at Hermione again, offering her a soft smile. "Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick have dealt with the last of the monsters," he said reassuringly. "Everything's going to be alright."

  But it wasn't just the professors' battle that caught his attention through his Magical-Sense.

  Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, accompanied by frantic calls.

  "Hermione!"

  "Hermione, where are you?"

  "Hermione! There's a troll in the castle! We've come to get you out of here!"

  Maverick glanced at the girl, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like you have some incredible friends, Ms. Granger."

  Hermione turned her head, lost for words, as the frantic shouts grew louder.

  She immediately recognized their voices, but it only made her confused. Why were they calling for her? Why were they rushing to her aid? Didn't they despise her? Weren't they the ones who had mocked her, ridiculing her for having no friends?

  Then, in the next moment, she saw Harry and Ron running desperately toward her. They skidded to a stop when they saw her, but their eyes immediately went wide as they took in the sight of the massive green creature, now bound tightly in chains, and the scene of Maverick's masterfully done Transfiguration.

  "Wicked..."

  —————————

  "Hermione!"

  "Hermione, where are you?"

  Two young wizards in Gryffindor uniforms sprinted through the dimly lit corridors, their faces showing a mix of worry and fear. Their hurried footsteps echoed against the stone walls as they exchanged anxious glances, neither daring to slow down or speak.

  Boom!

  Crash!

  Boom!

  They froze mid-step, the tremors and thunderous impacts ahead causing their stomachs to churn. The vibrations came from the direction they were headed, growing louder with every step.

  Gulping, Ron whispered, "Harry… maybe we should turn around. That sounds like a battle, and not the kind we want to walk into..."

  Harry hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head firmly. "No. We have to find Hermione. We have to rescue her—and apologize."

  "But—"

  "No buts, Ron," Harry cut him off, already moving again. "Come on..."

  Reluctantly, Ron followed, gripping his wand tightly as they ran through the corridors, calling out Hermione's name.

  "Whatever's happening up ahead, it sounds like it stopped," Harry said, breathing heavily after running for so long.

  Their voices echoed off the empty stone walls until they rounded the final corner.

  There she was.

  But their focus was on her for only a brief moment before their eyes were drawn to the hulking green creature nearby—a towering figure bound tightly in thick, gleaming chains, lying motionless on the floor.

  "Wicked!" Ron's jaw dropped as he took in the scene, the word slipping out before he could stop himself. It was hard to tell if it was out of fear or amazement.

  A brief silence passed, until, "Hermione!"

  Harry's voice rang out as he finally took in the miserable state of the little witch from his house. He rushed over, with Ron trailing a step behind, and came to a halt near Maverick, who was crouched beside her.

  At this time, Hermione's brain was trying to figure out the big question of why. Why they were here. So she asked directly, albeit barely audible from the exhaustion.

  "Harry... Ronald... what are you doing here?" she asked weakly, attempting to push herself up. However, Maverick placed a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

  "Stay put until Madam Pomfrey arrives to take you to the hospital wing," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

  He could, of course, continue treating her himself, and in fact, he had already addressed the most serious injuries, preventing them from worsening. However, proper treatment would take time, and with an accomplished school healer on the way, there was no need for him to handle it further.

  Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were momentarily lost in thought, unsure of how to answer Hermione's question. They glanced at each other, their eyes darting between Maverick and Hermione, searching for the right words to say.

  They knew very well that their earlier comments had hurt her. But, being barely teenagers, it wasn't in their nature to openly confess. They might try to make up for it with actions—even risky ones, like coming here—but admitting their mistakes aloud was something they found far more difficult.

  Maverick stayed silent, observing the moment. He knew this was a pivotal point in the trio's relationship, and they had to handle it themselves. And sure enough, it didn't take long before Harry stepped up.

  "We're sorry, Hermione," Harry said, his voice sincere. "I know we've been mean, saying those things after class today. And even before that."

  "Yeah, Hermione. We're sorry about everything," Ron added, albeit a bit awkwardly, but his tone carried genuine regret.

  Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, genuine surprise. Perhaps this was the first time anyone had ever apologized to her for treating her poorly.

  Maverick smiled inwardly, pleased to see the events unfold in a way that mirrored the story he knew. Still, he decided to push them a little further.

  He straightened up and looked at the two boys, his expression adopting a sterner, professor-like demeanor. "That still doesn't explain why you're here," he said. "Did Professor Dumbledore not give clear instructions on what to do in a dangerous situation like this? Instead, you disregarded the headmaster's orders and ran all the way here. Why?"

  Ron, unable to hold his tongue, blurted out, though timidly, "But we came to rescue Hermione. We were worried she might have to face the troll by herself…"

  Maverick raised an eyebrow, surprised by Ron's audacity. Even Harry turned to look at his friend, eyebrows raised in disbelief. But Ron seemed unbothered, standing by his words.

  Before Maverick could respond, Hermione's voice broke through, shaky but filled with emotion. "You… you both came for me?" she asked, her eyes welling up with tears.

  The boys looked at her, both nodding silently, unsure what to say.

  Before the moment could linger further, a rush of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor. All of them turned their heads.

  Coming around the corner was a group of adults: the Headmaster, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey. They all walked with urgency, stopping in their tracks when they saw the scene before them.

  "Merlin's beard," Professor Flitwick exclaimed, his voice filled with shock as his eyes landed on the massive green creature. "That's a bloody ogre!"

  And not a second later came the sharp, reprimanding call of the stern Deputy Headmistress. "Filius!" That was all she needed to say, and the Charms professor immediately straightened up, knowing exactly what she meant.

  "Ah… apologies," Flitwick muttered sheepishly.

  Before another word could be exchanged, Madam Pomfrey rushed past them, her robes billowing behind her, and quickly crouched beside Maverick, her focus entirely on Hermione.

  "My dear child… let me take a look at you," she said gently, her voice soft but firm. There was no need for her to ask if Hermione was alright—one look at the girl told her everything she needed to know.

  As the healer began casting diagnostic charms, Maverick spoke up, providing her with a quick report. "I've taken care of the internal and external bleeding. She has multiple puncture wounds and debris embedded in her skin that still need to be removed. I also cast a pain-relieving charm on her to ease her discomfort."

  Pomfrey didn't respond immediately, her attention fixed on her spellwork. A faint glow surrounded Hermione as the diagnostic spell took effect. When the light finally faded, she looked at Maverick with visible appreciation.

  "Thank you, Professor Caesar. You've done exceptional work on her," she said warmly. Though her tone was sincere, she chose her words carefully—there was no need to emphasize the severity of the girl's injuries in front of Hermione herself.

  Maverick gave a small nod then stood to give Pomfrey more space to work.

  "Your timely actions have saved Miss Granger, Professor Caesar," Dumbledore said, his calm voice carrying a note of gratitude looking at Maverick. "I cannot thank you enough."

  Maverick gave a modest shake of his head. "It is my duty, Professor," he replied simply. His gaze turning to Hermione, whose eyes, despite the pain she must still be enduring, sparkled with gratitude. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "And I must say, what a brave little lion she is… to have survived an ogre's attack."

  Before anyone could add anything, McGonagall's stern voice cut through the moment. Her sharp eyes had turned to the two boys standing guiltily nearby. "Speaking of… what, in Merlin's name, are you two doing here instead of following the prefects as you were instructed?"

  Harry and Ron stiffened, their eyes darting nervously to each other, then back to the Deputy Headmistress. It was clear from their faces that they hadn't quite prepared an answer for this moment.

  Before Harry or Ron could stammer out a response, Hermione spoke up, her voice trembling but determined.

  "Professor McGonagall, it was my fault," she said.

  All heads turned to her as she tried to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey gently pushed her back down.

  "Lie still, girl. You've been through enough!" Pomfrey said sharply, though her touch was gentle.

  Hermione obliged, but her words didn't stop. They continued, though her voice was much softer now. "I read about mountain trolls in Fantastic Beasts. I thought I could handle one if I ever saw it. Harry and Ron tried to stop me. They came after me to... to help."

  Her words hung in the air. While her explanation seemed sincere, none of the adults were fooled. It was clear she was trying to take the blame.

  Maverick, standing to one side, observed silently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The events had unfolded just as he'd anticipated.

  Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze shifted between the three students. "Is that so?" Her voice was calm but laced with suspicion.

  Harry stepped forward, emboldened by Hermione's initiative. "Yes, Professor," he said firmly. "Ron and I didn't think it was safe for Hermione to be alone, so we went after her."

  Ron nodded vigorously, though his voice wavered. "We couldn't leave her, Professor. She's our friend."

  McGonagall's expression softened ever so slightly, but her tone remained strict. "That was reckless. You could have been injured—or worse."

  "But we weren't," Harry argued. "We just... couldn't let her face it alone. That's why we came. Besides, Professor Caesar took care of the monster before we even got here."

  Hermione blinked back tears, touched by his words.

  Dumbledore, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. "It seems Miss Granger has found herself some very loyal friends," he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

  McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line. "Loyalty is commendable, Headmaster, but their actions could have led to disaster." She turned back to the boys. "Don't even think for a second that you would have been a match for a troll, let alone an ogre. Ten points each from Gryffindor for disobedience—"

  "And ten points each to Gryffindor for bravery," Maverick interjected, smiling and giving a wink to the children.

  Harry and Ron stared at him in surprise.

  McGonagall huffed but relented. "And ten points to Miss Granger, for her honesty," she added, though it was clear she didn't believe the story.

  Maverick's small smile widened as he watched the trio exchange uncertain but grateful glances. They'd just taken their first steps toward the unshakable bond they were destined to share.

  Madam Pomfrey clapped her hands briskly. "That's enough excitement for one evening. Miss Granger, I'll levitate you to the hospital wing. Relax and let me handle it."

  Hermione nodded, finally allowing herself to lean back.

  "You two should go with her," Maverick said to Harry and Ron. "Make sure you're checked over as well."

  The boys nodded and followed as Madam Pomfrey carefully levitated Hermione from the room.

  The moment they were gone, the atmosphere shifted. The remaining adults exchanged somber looks.

  Dumbledore broke the silence. "Professor Caesar, can you explain what happened here? We've dealt with the other creatures and discovered they were under the Imperius Curse. Someone led them here intentionally."

  Maverick nodded, gesturing to the unconscious Ogre. "I'm not sure this one was under the Imperius, but..." He recounted the events clearly and concisely—how Hermione had been attacked, how she had barely avoided harm, and how he'd stepped in to handle the situation.

  Snape's cold voice cut through the explanation. "And why, pray tell, did you not kill the creature outright?"

  Maverick raised an eyebrow. "If you're asking why I didn't use the Killing Curse, it's because I chose not to. I had full confidence in my abilities to subdue it without resorting to that."

  "Severus, really!" McGonagall snapped. "We do not encourage the use of Unforgivable Curses, even in situations like this."

  Flitwick nodded in agreement. "Your handling of the situation was remarkable, Professor Caesar. No Magus I know could have managed such a feat."

  Maverick inclined his head slightly in thanks but then glanced between them. "I suppose this is as good a time as any to clarify something. I am not, as many assume, a Magus. I am a Great-Magus, the same rank as the four of you."

  McGonagall and Dumbledore showed no outward reaction, clearly having suspected this for some time.

  Flitwick, however, was stunned. His jaw dropped. "A Great-Magus? At your age? Merlin's beard—you must be the youngest in history!"

  Maverick chuckled softly. "I've earned a few 'youngest ever' titles, Professor Flitwick. No need to make a fuss."

  Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "If you're so accomplished, why hide it? Or is there some other reason you've come to Hogwarts? One that has yet to be revealed?"

  "Severus Snape, that is quite enough!" McGonagall's voice was sharp as a whip.

  "Indeed," Dumbledore said, his tone firm. "I was the one who chose to bring Professor Caesar here, and I stand by that decision."

  Maverick's expression turned cold as he addressed Snape. "You question my motives, Severus, yet you're the one with a murky past. A former Death Eater questioning me? How rich."

  Snape's face darkened, his hand twitching toward his wand.

  Maverick's voice dropped, colder than ice. "Go on. Try it. I dare you."

  Before anyone could react, a wave of raw magical energy rippled through the room. The debris scattered around the corridor began to rise, defying gravity. The pressure was suffocating, but Maverick's control was impeccable—only Snape felt the full brunt of it.

  Snape gritted his teeth, sweat forming on his brow. Slowly, one knee buckled, forcing him to the ground.

  "I am Maverick Caesar," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Remember that. A master alchemist and a powerful mage, here to teach. I have no ulterior motives, but I won't tolerate baseless accusations from you."

  "That is enough," Dumbledore's voice rang out, and with a wave of his hand, the oppressive magic vanished. "Both of you, return to your offices. Minerva and I will handle matters here."

  Dumbledore sighed inwardly. How in Merlin's name had the discussion turned out like this so quickly?

  Maverick gave Snape one last cold glance before nodding to Dumbledore. Without saying another word, he turned and walked away. He was eager to leave, and besides, he had no interest in getting caught up in trying to figure out how or why trolls and an ogre had managed to get into Hogwarts—after all, that was obvious to him already.

  And he was pretty sure Dumbledore knew this already as well, but at the same time, he knew the old man wouldn't do a damn thing about Quirrell either. It seemed Dumbledore was still the same when it came to arranging little Harry's life.

  Tsk, tsk. Poor little Potter. He silently took half a second to mourn the little lion's future troubles.

  As he made his way to his office, his thoughts turned back to the night's battle. One thing was certain—his Great-Magus level magic alone was not enough. He was still weak. The ogre's physical strength had opened his eyes, reminding him once again that this world wasn't just one of wizards and magic.

  His future opponents might not be as magically powerful as he was, but they could excel in other areas. Physical strength, or even supernatural abilities like mutants—some of which were like bugs in their own right.

  His eyes narrowed, determination settling in. The coming weekend would bring other schools and their deans to Hogwarts. Before then, he needed to make an upgrade.

  ————

  The events of the Halloween Feast had left Maverick with a renewed sense of determination. The chaos had been a wake-up call, and he decided there would be no more waiting. It was time to push forward and achieve the breakthrough to the rank of Arch-Magus.

  By September, just before the start of the school year, he had accumulated over 2,500 points, and his magical energy was nearing 8,000 units.

  Now, two months later, when his points had climbed to over 3,100, giving him an additional 1,000 points to use even after breakthrough, there was no reason to postpone any longer.

  But reaching the Arch-Magus rank was very different from advancing from Magus to Great-Magus. According to the system's notes on rank promotion, the process would affect every wizard below the rank of Arch-Magus over a wide range, and this meant the consequences could be devastating for those two ranks below—like the children at Hogwarts—due to the volatile magic that would inevitably leak during the process.

  That was why he had chosen a remote location, one of the most isolated mountains in the world—Mount Khüiten. The tallest peak in the Altai Mountains of Mongolia, it towers over 14,000 feet and lies close to the border with China. Its glaciers, steep slopes, and extreme altitude make it one of the most inaccessible places on Earth, a challenge to reach without meticulous preparation.

  It had been his choice for some time now.

  So on that very same night, he left Hogwarts, and a few Apparitions later, he arrived here, though the sun was already up because of the different time zone.

  He first scanned the area for any nearby climbers, and only after flying over the peak and scouting a radius of over ten kilometers to ensure no humans were nearby did he finally begin.

  He found a large, stable rock free of snow to sit on and, without hesitation, began adding points to his magical energy, watching as the system processed each increase seamlessly. It wasn't until the system prompted him to continue from 9,999 units that he paused. With a nod, he selected yes, and the system did its work.

  The sensation that followed was similar to the one he had felt when integrating the Philosopher's Stone's extraordinary characteristic—an itchy, irritating feeling as if his body was being altered on a cellular level. He knew his body was evolving into a higher form of life, but with each passing minute, the irritation grew more intense.

  Thankfully, it wasn't unbearable, but that was only what was happening inside him.

  As time passed, violent bursts of magic erupted from his body at irregular intervals, causing the thick layers of snow around the rock where he sat to shift with each surge. At times, the snow swirled in the air, lifted by unseen forces before being blasted away in an instant, or simply levitated, suspended in midair around him.

  The magical energy around him was as wild as a storm, reacting unpredictably with the physical matter near him. And even if it didn't physically affect more distant areas, as the system had noted, there was still an invisible pressure within a dozen kilometers radius around him.

  From a distance, he appeared like a wavering mirage, the energy radiating from his body distorting the air in ripples, as though the space around him had been trapped in the shimmering haze of a scorching midday sun.

  Even the sky, once clear with barely a cloud in sight before his arrival, had transformed within an hour of the promotion process, as dark clouds gathered unnaturally overhead, now twisting into a spiraling vortex.

  While all this was happening, Maverick sat firmly in his position with his eyes closed and brows furrowed, focusing solely on the breakthrough. However, the persistent pain and whatever changes were happening to him made it clear, from the beads of sweat covering his face despite the biting cold, that the process was far from pleasant.

  Time stretched on, the sun climbed higher as the unnatural phenomenon persisted. But as it reached its peak, the swirling clouds above began to disperse. The snowstorm-like chaos stirred by the volatile magic around Maverick gradually subsided before fading into calm.

  Maverick let out a long exhale.

  ...

  That was... scary. Yes, scary. Maverick could safely say he had never felt that kind of pain in either of his two lives. He was powerful, yes, and one of the most formidable magic users in the world, but until now, he had never experienced such persistent pain.

  And just before everything had calmed down, it felt like he was being pierced by countless needles all over his body, yet somehow, he had managed to stay conscious throughout it all.

  But contrary to how tired he should have been—exhausted from enduring such agony for hours—he felt nothing like it. Instead, he felt invigorated, more rejuvenated than he had ever been.

  He slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was the snow spread out over a large area, with him at the center like a crater.

  He stood up on his feet and, like always, first conjured a mirror to check for any visible changes to his appearance. But there was nothing. No changes at all.

  With a sigh, he dispelled the magic and then felt his body.

  Powerful. Yes, that was the feedback his brain gave. It's common knowledge that the more magical energy you have, the more powerful the spells you cast will be. And he was someone who could see magical energy as a numerical figure, able to attest to this as a fact. Right now, he felt that his magical energy was far greater than it had been yesterday.

  Finally, he focused on the multiple notification prompts from his system.

  [ Body adaptation complete. ]

  [ Rank up: Great-Magus — Arch-Magus ]

  [ Name: Maverick Caesar ]

  [ Class: Wizard ]

  [ Rank: Arch-Magus ]

  [ Magical Energy: 19,862+ ]

  [ Points: 1,092 ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristic Points: 0 ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristics: ]

  [ Excellent grade Spellcasting ]

  [ Excellent grade Independent Expanded Dimension ]

  [ Excellent grade Flight ]

  [ Excellent grade Vitality ]

  [ Talents: ]

  [ Magical Energy Manipulation (Master +) ]

  [ Magical Sense (Master +) ]

  [ Spacial Rift (Advanced +) ]

  [ Dominant Spirit (Advanced +) ]

  [ Nature Energy Manipulation (Beginner +) ]

  [ Transfiguration (Advanced +) ]

  [ Alchemy (Advanced +) ]

  [ Potions (Intermediate +) ]

  [ Spells: ]

  [ Aquired Master Proficiency: ]

  [ Fiendfyre + | Illusio Lunam Lectorem + ]

  [ Aquired Advanced Proficiency: ]

  [...]

  The system confirmed that he had now stepped into the rank of Arch-Magus, but upon taking a second glance at the magical energy value, he was truly surprised. When he had advanced from Magus to Great-Magus, the increase had been two or three thousand units of magical energy, but this time, the value had doubled, from 10,000 to nearly 20,000.

  And he could feel that number in every fiber of his being. It wasn't just about becoming twice as powerful—it was an all-around improvement. Not only was his magic stronger, but his body and spirit also felt significantly more powerful. Right now, he felt as if he could take on five of his earlier self, and he had been no ordinary Great-Magus even back at that rank.

  Next, he turned his attention to the other changes and observed that some of his talents had advanced in proficiency rank. As his teacher Edward had once mentioned, achieving the rank of Arch-Magus brought significant improvements in the control over mana, or Magical Energy.

  The talents he had acquired upon advancing to Magus—Magical Energy Manipulation and Magical Sense—had now both reached Master proficiency.

  Maverick decided to test his newfound mastery, spreading his Magical Sense to its maximum output. His eyes widened involuntarily as he realized the range had increased not just two or three times but many, many times. He could now sense the entirety of Mount Khüiten and even parts of the surrounding peaks in the Altai mountain range.

  Before, he had to fly around just to cover a 15-kilometer radius with his senses, but now that range was easily encompassed from where he stood. Not only that, the level of detail was far sharper. There were no words to truly describe the difference, but to put it simply, it felt as though his perspective had been upgraded from 720p to 4K.

  Incredible... he couldn't help but mutter, as a smile tugged his lips with the new found ability.

  Then, just as he had with Magical-Sense, he tested the power of Magical-Energy Manipulation. It, too, had received a significant boost. He could now conjure or materialize pure magic with ease, just as he had seen his teacher do—like it was second nature.

  Am I becoming a Dragonball character? he mused to himself, watching the ball of pure magic he had effortlessly materialized.

  After a while of testing the two talents' new capabilities, he finally focused on the new talent he had acquired. Yes, it was only one, and unlike the last times he had ranked up and acquired two, this time there was only one.

  A bug? he thought. Where's the button to contact customer service? Shouldn't I get two talents instead of one? He complained inwardly, but the system made no reaction.

  Sigh.

  He then refocused on the new talent, Nature Energy Manipulation, to see if he could understand anything.

  Nature Energy? Nature Energy?

  Is it another type of energy like magic?

  Unfortunately, no matter how much he wracked his brain over it, the talent was at the beginner level proficiency, and he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

  But this situation was nothing for a systematic cheater like him. Without hesitation, he brought up the system menu and decisively added 110 points to the new talent, advancing it from beginner to intermediate, then directly to advanced proficiency.

  Immediately, his mind was flooded with the talent's information—everything from its nature to its various uses. But it wasn't just his mind; his entire being adjusted to it as if years of experience with the talent had been compressed into a single moment.

  As a powerful Arch-Magus with a mind and body far stronger than any regular wizard, he felt no discomfort. There was only a brief tingling sensation for a second before his eyes opened, fully absorbing the knowledge and experience.

  He hummed, tapping his finger on his chin, mulling over the newfound power.

  Do I have to fight some evil firelord now? he thought with amusement.

  Yes, the new talent, Nature Energy Manipulation, granted him control over the four elements—fire, water, air, and earth. Moreover, from the knowledge and experience he had just absorbed from the system, it seemed that this ability wasn't tied to magic. Instead, it felt more like a superpower, a natural force that operated outside the realm of traditional spellcasting.

  What did this mean? Essentially, even if he encountered a situation where magic was suppressed—such as an enchanted space designed to block magic—he could still rely on this power.

  Looking around, he slowly levitated off the rock where he stood and focused his attention on it. With a smooth gesture, he raised his hand and willed the change to happen.

  The large rock, which should have weighed tons, floated effortlessly into the air, then began to dismantle and reshape like a Lego creation. With the sound of crunching noises, within seconds, the rock had transformed into a perfect cube, smooth as polished ceramic.

  He willed the cube to descend, and with a loud thud, it landed back on the ground.

  The changes resembled Transfiguration, but unlike Transfiguration, this transformation would be permanent. First, he hadn't altered the elemental structure of the rock, and second, he hadn't used magic to change the shape; he had manipulated the earth itself.

  That meant he could control not just rocks, but also sand, mud, cement, and possibly even metal. There was so much for him to explore—not only with earth, but with the other elements as well.

  The most important thing, however, was that with this talent, Nature Energy Manipulation, he would be the only Arch-Magus to possess such control. Like the other talents, it typically took an additional rank advancement for wizards to begin understanding the power of a newly acquired ability.

  The smirk on Maverick's lips widened into a full grin. This new power, along with the other enhancements he had received from breaking through to Arch-Magus, was immensely satisfying. Moreover, he knew he would uncover even more about these abilities with time.

  There should be no mage in this world who can take me down now—not if I play all my trump cards.

  With that thought, Maverick vanished from the spot.

  However, what he didn't realize was that his newly amplified magical senses had failed to detect five mysterious figures hovering above the mountain, watching his every move since the start of his breakthrough.

  "The little guy left so quickly," a woman's voice said, calm yet laced with intrigue. She was tall and stunning, her beauty akin to that of a fairy. Long, jet-black hair cascaded down her back, and she wore a simple white top paired with black jeans. Around her neck hung a silver necklace, featuring the head of a raven with a gem embedded in its eye.

  "Interesting how he managed to master the element of earth so quickly after breaking through," added a man's voice. He was clad in wizarding robes, but his wrist bore a silver bracelet shaped like a serpent, with the same kind of gem embedded in its eye. "Is it sheer genius?"

  "Hah! Jealous he's more of a genius than you?" came a deep, mocking laugh, belonging to a bulky man with a commanding presence. Dressed in casual attire with a golden fur coat draped over his shoulders like a lion's mane, his golden hair gleamed under the light. A sword hung at his waist, its hilt shaped into a lion's head with a gem embedded in its eyes.

  "Can you, for once, not turn everything into a contest?" another woman interjected with a sigh. She was dressed in a unique blend of modern and wizarding fashion. Like the first woman, she radiated beauty, but her necklace featured a simple gemstone without any additional designs.

  "Let us leave," the final figure spoke, his tone authoritative yet calm. He stood at the front, appearing to be their leader. Though slightly older in appearance than the others, he exuded an air of command. His attire was a sleek mix of wizarding robes and a tailored suit, with a luxurious coat draped over his shoulders.

  "Supreme, is it alright if we make contact with him now? After all, he is—" the first woman began, but the leader cut her off with a firm tone.

  "It is not yet time. He's still far too weak and far too inexperienced. You may approach him, but under no circumstances are you to reveal your identities…" The leader paused, his expression turning contemplative, then added, "However, if he manages to figure it out on his own, that's another story."

  The group nodded in unison at his command before vanishing into thin air, just as Maverick had moments earlier.

  —————————

  The week passed without much fanfare, though the castle buzzed with activity as preparations for the interschool Quidditch tournament continued.

  Maverick, meanwhile, carried on with his lessons as usual, teaching alchemy to the first years and muggle science to the sixth years.

  Outside of his teaching duties, he was preoccupied with the tournament organizing committee, working tirelessly to ensure every detail was perfect for the arrival of the visiting schools. After all, this was his proposed event, and he was intent on making it flawless.

  As for his recent advancement in rank, he hadn't mentioned it to anyone, though he no longer had any intention of concealing his strength either.

  And so, time slipped quietly by, and before anyone realized it, the first Saturday of November arrived.

  Morning broke with the sun casting a golden glow through the clouds above the towering spires of the Castle. The grounds sparkled with a light frost, the air was cool and damp, and it carried the faint scent of pine drifting from the Forbidden Forest.

  The Great Hall, already alive with the hum of students enjoying their breakfast, felt different today. It seemed larger, grander, as though the very walls had stretched to accommodate more, and rightly so for such an occasion.

  Three extra-long tables had been added, their polished surfaces gleaming under the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the cloudy sky outside. The usual house banners had been replaced with the unified colors of Hogwarts, and the room was a buzz of eager anticipation.

  Over at the staff table, a similar scene unfolded, with additional space seemingly added in preparation for the event.

  However, a few professors were notably absent—Dumbledore, Maverick, and Professor McGonagall were nowhere to be seen.

  ...

  The morning air was sharp and cold near the Great Lake, the surface of the water rippling faintly under a light breeze. Three figures stood by the shore, their breaths forming soft white clouds in the chill.

  The lake lay still, its surface reflecting the pale sky like a polished mirror. Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes swept across the horizon, his hands clasped behind his back in quiet contemplation. Beside him, Maverick stood with his usual calm demeanor, and McGonagall, ever practical, adjusted her emerald robes and stole a quick glance at her wrist watch.

  "They should be arriving any moment now," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying a note of quiet excitement. "I do hope the arrangements are to their liking."

  "I'm sure they will be, Albus," McGonagall replied briskly. "Though I must say, I'll be glad when the formalities are over..."

  Maverick let out a low chuckle as he watched the Deputy Headmistress looking nervous. But who could blame her? Hogwarts' reputation was on the line, and this was her beloved school. It wasn't every day they welcomed guests from other institutions.

  "Everything should go smoothly," he said at last, turning his head toward her with a reassuring smile.

  Just then, a faint ripple of magic stirred the air, drawing their attention as all three turned their heads in unison. In the distance, the sky seemed to rip open, the edges stretching wider and wider until they formed a vast, gaping rift, its surface an inky black void.

  The three of them showed no outward reaction, merely waiting expectantly. But they all had a pretty good guess as to who it might be. After all, only Hogwarts and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic had Arch-Magi as their headmasters.

  And sure enough, not long after that, a magnificent carriage emerged from within the rift, drawn by a team of majestic winged horses. It descended slowly and gracefully, its silver and blue colors gleaming in the light. The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic's crest was proudly displayed on the side, unmistakable for all to see.

  The carriage landed softly on the grass, and moments later, the doors opened to reveal a towering, striking woman—Olympe Maxime.

  Maverick's expression remained calm, though he couldn't help recalling their less-than-pleasant previous encounter. This time, however, he didn't feel the same tension—things had changed considerably since then.

  With regal poise, she stepped out, her presence as elegant and commanding as ever. She wore a stunning gown, the fabric shimmering faintly in the light, with intricate lace detailing along the edges. Over her shoulders, a luxurious velvet coat draped elegantly, its deep blue hue contrasting beautifully with the silver embroidery that traced its seams. The coat flowed gracefully behind her as she moved, completing her sophisticated and imposing appearance.

  Behind Maxime, the Beauxbatons students disembarked in an elegant procession, a mix of boys and girls dressed in sleek, pale blue uniforms that shimmered in the morning light. Among them was a young witch who Maverick was almost certain was Fleur Delacour. He could sense the Veela magic the moment she stepped out, but to someone like him, it didn't matter in the slightest. Still, she stood out even among such a distinguished crowd, her elegance and composure clear for all to see.

  But she didn't seem to be part of the Quidditch team. Instead, she appeared to be simply accompanying the half-giant witch. Maverick had read somewhere that Delacour was Maxime's direct apprentice, much like how he was to Edward.

  The towering witch and her students approached the trio, her eyes fixed on the headmaster. As she reached him, her expression softened into a warm smile. "Albus," she greeted, her voice smooth with a melodic French accent. "A pleasure seeing you again."

  "The pleasure is mine, Olympe," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling with his characteristic warmth. "Welcome to Hogwarts." He then turned slightly, and gestured to the two standing beside him. "May I introduce, Professor McGonagall and Professor Maverick... the heart and the brains behind all of this... as I mentioned in our meeting months ago."

  Madame Maxime inclined her head gracefully. "A pleasure seeing you again as well, Minerva..." she said, glancing at McGonagall first before finally settling her gaze on Maverick.

  "So, you are the man causing such a stir all over the wizarding world recently," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sized him up with both her gaze and her magic. "Mr. Caesar... oh, no... it should be Master Caesar."

  Maverick didn't flinch and smiled naturally, his expression calm. "A pleasure, Speaker. Welcome to Hogwarts."

  "I cannot sense any magic from you, monsieur," Maxime remarked, her tone both curious and probing. She tilted her head, her eyes studying him intently as though trying to read something beyond his calm exterior.

  "Professor Caesar has always been like this, Olympe," Dumbledore interjected smoothly. "He has exceptional control over magic and a habit of keeping it suppressed at all times." He shot Maverick a knowing glance, before turning his attention back to the visiting headmistress.

  Maxime briefly glanced at Dumbledore when he spoke, then turned her attention back to Maverick. A wide, unreadable smile spread across her face. "The pleasure is mine, young genius," she said smoothly, without missing a beat. "If you ever consider changing employers, Beauxbatons' doors are always open to you."

  Cough.

  Dumbledore quickly turned to McGonagall and said.

  "Minerva, would you kindly escort Principal Maxime and her students to the Great Hall for breakfast? We wouldn't want the students to think we've forgotten our manners," Dumbledore said, glancing at his deputy with a knowing look.

  "Of course," McGonagall replied, stepping forward promptly.

  Fortunately, no other interruptions occurred, and Maxime seemed to have set aside her curiosity for the time being.

  The reason Maverick suppressed his magic, despite deciding not to hide his strength any longer, was simple: he didn't want to cause a scene. He wasn't sure how Maxime would react if she sensed his magical signature, and he was certain she would recognize it as belonging to Bloodraven. For now, discretion seemed the wiser choice.

  And so, the Beauxbatons delegation arrived first, and McGonagall led them to the Great Hall, where preparations were already in full swing for all the visiting schools to enjoy breakfast together.

  No sooner had they departed than another surge of magic filled the air. This time, it came from two directions at once. From the north, a massive, ornate sleigh appeared, gliding over the ground as though pulled by invisible forces. It was Koldovstoretz, the Russian school of magic.

  The sleigh was adorned with intricate carvings and glowed faintly with runes, its arrival accompanied by the faint sound of bells. The students, clad in fur-lined robes, stepped out with an air of quiet confidence, their headmaster—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick beard—leading the way.

  Simultaneously, from the south, the Durmstrang delegation arrived in dramatic fashion. A massive ship rose from the depths of the lake, its dark sails billowing ominously in the breeze. As the ship glided toward the shore, it docked with a low, creaking sound, and the students began to disembark. They wore heavy crimson robes that looked almost militaristic, marching down the gangplank with the kind of precision that made it clear they had been trained for discipline.

  At their head stood Igor Karkaroff, a figure Maverick instantly recognized. Karkaroff was the headmaster of Durmstrang, but he was also, as Maverick recalled, a self-serving, opportunistic coward and a former Death Eater who had once followed Voldemort during his reign.

  However, that was the story from the original timeline, and Maverick wasn't sure how much of it applied here. Regardless, it didn't matter, because he sensed the man to be only at a mediocre Great-Magus level—not even close to peak, like McGonagall.

  He watched as the man approached Dumbledore, and beside him was the dean of the other school. They both came to a stop at the same time in front of Dumbledore and him.

  "Albus," Karkaroff greeted first, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of formality. "It has been too long."

  "Indeed it has, Igor," Dumbledore replied warmly. "Welcome to Hogwarts. And you as well, Victor." He turned to the Koldovstoretz headmaster and greeted the same.

  The man's name was Viktor Volkov. Like Karkaroff, he was a Great-Magus, but Maverick could sense that his magical power far surpassed Karkaroff's. What made Viktor Volkov particularly notable, however, was his lineage—he was the younger brother of Russia's only Arch-Magus, Alexey Volkov.

  The Russian marquis responded to Dumbledore's greeting with a polite, deep, and accented voice. "A pleasure," he responded courteously.

  Dumbledore gestured to Maverick. "This is Professor Maverick. He has been instrumental in organizing this tournament."

  Volkov and Karkaroff both acknowledged Maverick with polite nods. A master alchemist was a master alchemist, after all, and both men understood the significance of such a title. The respect and courtesy they showed seemed genuine, if brief, before their attention shifted back to Dumbledore.

  "Shall we proceed to the Great Hall?" Dumbledore suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm sure all the students are eager to refresh after their journeys..."

  At Dumbledore's words, both Volkov and Karkaroff nodded in agreement, and the group began to move together, heading towards the grand doors of Hogwarts.

  —————————

  The guests from the three schools were soon led to the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a stunning display of warmth and hospitality.

  Three additional long tables, placed alongside the usual four, had been arranged for the visiting schools. Despite the added seating, the Great Hall did not feel crowded—thanks to the use of impressive space-expanding magic, it had been enlarged to comfortably accommodate everyone.

  The Beauxbatons students, in their elegant blue uniforms, sat together, quietly observing the hall with polite curiosity. The Durmstrang students, dressed in heavy crimson robes, stood out with their strict and disciplined demeanor.

  In contrast, the Koldovstoretz students, wearing deep forest-green cloaks trimmed with silver, sat with a relaxed confidence, their easy grace giving the impression that nothing here could faze them.

  Meanwhile, the Hogwarts students whispered excitedly among themselves, stealing glances at the newcomers. The hall was alive with energy as some students speculated in hushed tones about the visitors' skills and reputations, while others marveled at their unique attire and distinctive mannerisms.

  It had been years since an event like this had taken place. In the past, the Triwizard Tournament was the only occasion that brought the schools together, but it had been canceled due to its many dangers, and no one knew when or if it would resume again.

  Once everyone seemed settled, Dumbledore stood from his seat and raised his hands, gently signaling for silence.

  "Friends, students, and esteemed guests," Dumbledore said, his gaze sweeping across the room, pausing for a moment on each delegation. "It is with great joy that we welcome our visitors from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Durmstrang Institute, and Koldovstoretz School of Magic. Today marks the beginning of an exciting event... one that will celebrate not only our differences but the bonds that tie us together as a magical community."

  His eyes twinkled as he added, "Let us embrace the opportunity to learn from one another and make new memories during our time together."

  The old wizard kept his speech short, warmly welcoming the visiting schools and extending Hogwarts' hospitality, while explaining how the visiting students would join Hogwarts classes and the efforts made to ensure they felt comfortable and settled within the castle.

  A ripple of applause spread through the hall following the headmaster's welcoming speech, and the stage was then handed over to Maverick, who was set to explain the details of the tournament.

  And Maverick ensured his speech covered every important detail, now that all the schools and their headmasters were gathered in one place.

  He began with a quick overview of the tournament structure, explaining how the games would be played and outlining how the winners of each round would move on to the next stage.

  He repeated the details already shared with the Hogwarts students, stressing the schedule. The first round would feature six games, starting today, with one game held each day after that. He also mentioned that the next group stage would take place in February, with the finals scheduled for May.

  Next, he talked about the changes made to the Quidditch stadium to accommodate a larger audience. It wouldn't just be students from the participating schools watching the games, but also members of the public, including parents, scouts, and government officials.

  He reassured the crowd by highlighting the security arrangements. The British Ministry of Magic's law enforcement department had been involved to ensure everyone's safety during the tournament. Multiple Aurors, both visible and covert, would be stationed around the stands to maintain security, with the protection of the students being the top priority.

  Maverick also addressed the safety of the spectators, especially regarding the risk of a Bludger flying into the stands. To prevent accidents, alchemical protective charms had been placed on each stand, acting as invisible barriers.

  He then moved on to discuss the wider reach of the tournament. The games, he said, would be broadcast live across Europe, with Magic Vision donated to each of the participating schools so that students who couldn't be there could still watch in real time. Additionally, many major wizarding locations and public places would have Magic Vision sets installed, meaning that even the general public could watch from afar.

  Maverick also mentioned the involvement of several newspapers, whose staff would be covering the event. The games would be reported on and featured in the headlines, ensuring widespread coverage.

  He reminded everyone of the significance of the event, emphasizing once again that all of wizarding Europe, and possibly even beyond, would be watching. As a professor at Hogwarts and the chair overseeing the tournament, he appealed to all students—not just those from Hogwarts—to show discipline and good sportsmanship throughout the competition.

  Finally, with a smile, Maverick informed everyone that the first game would take place that afternoon between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. He wished everyone the best of luck, adding, "May the best team win."

  After Maverick's detailed explanation, Dumbledore officially signaled the start of the grand feast. The Great Hall then brimmed with energy, more alive than ever, as students from all four schools—well, mostly those from Hogwarts—turned the welcome feast into a festive celebration.

  After breakfast, the guest schools and their students were guided to their dormitories and taken on tours of the castle. With Hogwarts being as vast as it was, there was no issue accommodating everyone comfortably. And since it was the weekend, there were no classes, giving everyone the chance to enjoy a little before the games began.

  As the appointed time for the opening ceremony approached, guests from the public began to arrive through the temporary Floo points set up for the occasion, located just outside the castle and near the stadium. Security personnel and staff were stationed at these points, ensuring the smooth flow of visitors and guiding them to their designated seats in the stands.

  Most of the seats allocated to the public had been sold, though not all, which was understandable given that this was the first time an event like this was being held. However, the VIP section—designed for those who wanted to enjoy the games with added comfort and amenities—was fully booked, largely thanks to Maverick's effective marketing strategies.

  By the time the ceremony was set to begin, the stadium was already alive with excitement, the air buzzing with anticipation. However, instead of heading straight to his seat in the VIP stand with the headmasters, Maverick decided to visit the Hogwarts players' dressing room first to check on the team's energy.

  Before he even reached the door, he could hear Oliver Wood's booming voice echoing through the corridor, delivering a passionate speech to the team. Maverick paused for a moment, smiling at the sheer enthusiasm in the young captain's tone, and only entered after Wood's fiery pep talk concluded.

  Inside, the team and their coach, Steven, turned their heads toward him. Maverick stepped in with a smile, giving the players an appreciative nod.

  "How's everyone feeling? Nervous, or are you all set for today?" he asked with a light tone.

  "Not nervous at all, Professor!" Slytherin's seeker, Marcus Flint, patted his chest confidently. "I'll catch the Snitch before their little sissy of a seeker even knows where it is!"

  Wood stepped forward next with the confidence of a true captain. "We're ready, Professor. And I'll make sure no Quaffle gets past me today."

  More students joined in, expressing their readiness, and finally, Coach Steven spoke with a steady and reassuring tone. "They're ready, and I believe the kids will surprise everyone today."

  Maverick's smile widened as he looked at the Hogwarts team. He could feel their energy and determination radiating in the room. "I like the energy, everyone. Remember... teamwork is key. And above all, good luck. We're counting on you!"

  With those words, he turned and left the dressing room, and headed straight to the VIP stands to join his colleagues.

  The headmasters, special invitees, and nearly all the guests who had booked their seats were already settled when Maverick arrived. At the very front, he saw the three deans engaged in an animated conversation, clearly soaking in the excitement emanating from the crowd.

  Next to them, in the same row, was the plump Minister of Magic he had met two years ago at Buckingham Palace, now chatting with another Ministry official Maverick didn't recognize.

  As he walked past the seats, Maverick noticed the curious glances from the occupants. He recognized some of them—pure-blood lords from prominent British families. Others, dressed in various aristocratic styles, were likely foreign nobles whose children were participating in the tournament.

  Maverick didn't ignore their gazes. Instead, he acknowledged each and everyone who met his eyes, and offered polite nods in return, before finally reaching his seat at the front next to Professor Dumbledore.

  "The man of the hour finally graced us with his presence." As soon as he took his seat, he heard the alluring voice of the French Headmistress, who sat just beyond Dumbledore on the other side.

  "This is one magnificent event you've arranged, Monsieur. I can't believe you managed to fill up the stadium for the very first game."

  Maverick chuckled as he turned toward her. "This is the hard work of many people, Speaker. I can't take all the credit."

  "And very modest…" she said with a playful smile. "Remember, my offer still stands."

  The old Hogwarts Headmaster beside her twitched involuntarily at her words, but fortunately, Maverick's next words put him at ease.

  "I'm perfectly happy here at Hogwarts," Maverick said, looking at the woman steadily as he met her gaze without flinching. "Though I do appreciate the offer."

  Some of the occupants raised their brows—after all, he was speaking to an Arch-Magus. Most wouldn't have the confidence to look her in the eye, let alone respond so casually. They took note of this little detail, and whether they saw it as confidence or arrogance, Maverick neither knew nor cared.

  "How much time until the opening ceremony begins, Professor?" Dumbledore asked, smoothly changing the subject.

  "Any minute now," Maverick replied. "We've chosen an incredible talent from Hogwarts to narrate the competition, and Professor McGonagall should be with him now, getting ready to start."

  It was true—rather than hiring a professional commentator, Maverick had decided to give the opportunity to a student. A third-year Gryffindor, Lee Jordan, had the perfect energy and talent for the role. Of course, he wouldn't be alone in it. Professor McGonagall would be there to supervise the boy and keep things in check.

  —————————

  The stands exploded with cheers, applause mixing with the electric hum of excitement in the crisp autumn afternoon air. On the stage, a group of witches whirled and danced, their robes shimmering as they moved in perfect harmony to the lively beat of a Muggle song.

  "What is this music?" a wizard in the front row asked his companion as his foot tapped along to the rhythm without him realizing it.

  "No idea," the other replied, shrugging. "But it's good, isn't it?"

  Those of Muggle origins in the crowd exchanged knowing smiles, quietly enjoying the familiarity of the tunes. For everyone else, it was simply magical. The performance held them spellbound, and not one person seemed to care—or even wonder—where the music had come from.

  "This is brilliant," said a young witch sitting in the stands reserved for the public. Her eyes sparkled as she clapped along. "I'm glad we decided to buy tickets."

  Her companion, a stern-looking pureblood wizard in formal robes, frowned but kept watching. "It's unconventional," he muttered. "But not entirely unpleasant."

  The witches ended their performance with a final dazzling move. Golden sparks shot from their wands in perfect unison and lit up the stage like bright fireworks. The entire audience stood, and some even jumped to their feet as they whistled and cheering with unrestrained enthusiasm.

  "Unconventional or not," the young witch grinned, elbowing her companion, "you liked it."

  He gave a reluctant nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps."

  Among the crowd of spectators, inside the VIP box, Maverick spread his senses to listen to the various feedback and chuckled quietly to himself.

  He had purposely avoided using Veelas or the usual opening ceremony acts typically seen at events like this. Instead, he chose to use humans—well, in this case, some very good-looking witches—to kick off the competition with a stunning performance.

  The tunes he chose were of course, from Muggle origins. Because quite frankly, magicals had terrible, terrible taste in music. And his little gamble to use Muggle songs seemed to have been the right call indeed, judging by the reactions.

  The applause slowly died down as the performers exited the stage, and then Lee Jordan's voice echoed across the stadium.

  "The first match of the competition! On one side, representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we have...

  Team Hogwarts!

  And on the other side, all the way from the beautiful mountains of France, give it up for...

  Team Beauxbatons!"

  The crowd applauded for both teams, and after which, Lee Jordan announced the names of the players from each team one by one as they soared into the air. Not long after, the referee's whistle pierced the stadium, signaling the start of the game as the Quaffle was released.

  From the very beginning, it was clear that Hogwarts had the upper hand. Their chasers flew in perfect unison, while the Beauxbatons team struggled to keep up as the Quaffle moved seamlessly between their opponents.

  The results of Steven's training had clearly paid off. Maverick might not be able to tell, but McGonagall and the other professors who had seen these students play before could clearly notice the difference. Most of all, it was the extremely well-coordinated teamwork among the players, who just a couple of months ago couldn't have possibly done this.

  "And that's another goal for Hogwarts!" Lee Jordan's excited voice rang out. "Brilliant! Briliant! They've taken an early lead in just ten minutes... 20 to 0 in favor of Hogwarts!"

  The crowd roared as the Hogwarts players regrouped, ready for the next play.

  "Very impressive," remarked the Durmstrang headmaster, leaning back in his seat with a thoughtful expression.

  Dumbledore smiled at his counterpart, nodding slightly. He was genuinely pleased by the teamwork his students from different houses were showing and was glad that he had agreed to Maverick's proposal for an event such as this. Who knew it would be a game of sport that would bring his school together in the same boat?

  The VIP stand where they all sat wasn't quiet either, as some of the players' parents—presumably ancient noble families —watched intently. Right now, they seemed to barely contain their calm demeanors, occasionally jumping to their feet or joining in the cheers and applause. After all, it was their children out on the field.

  Maxime, sitting quietly ever since the game began, raised an eyebrow, noticing something. She glanced at Dumbledore and Maverick with a smirk. "Your seeker seems to be taking things very easy. Isn't it because of the additional rule you set for this competition?"

  Maverick answered, "That rule was set to prevent the games from dragging on. 150 points scored before the Snitch is caught to declare the winner is a fair rule for all teams. But..."

  He observed the boy in question. It was true. He could see that Marcus Flint had indeed been taking it easy, growing complacent with how easily Hogwarts was scoring.

  "You're right. He isn't trying very hard to locate the Snitch."

  An hour into the game, Hogwarts scored yet another goal. The scoreboard now read 90 to 30, and the crowd—especially the Hogwarts students in the stands—erupted into cheers once more.

  "Hogwarts is dominating!" Lee Jordan called out. "With an hour into the game, they've already tripppled the score of their opponents!"

  As the match progressed, Marcus Flint, the Hogwarts Seeker, relaxed more and more. It felt too easy, and his attention began to wander slightly. Unfortunately, that moment of carelessness proved costly.

  A Bludger came hurtling toward him, smashing into his side before he could react. Flint let out a shout of pain, clutching his ribs as he wobbled on his broom, and the referee immediately blew the whistle, pausing the game.

  "Looks like Flint's taken a nasty hit!" Lee Jordan announced. "That's going to hurt!"

  From the VIP box, Maxime's lips twitched in faint amusement. "Your seeker had that one coming, Albus."

  Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps, but that would serve him a lesson..."

  Over the pitch, Flint seemed to recover quickly from the hit after Madam Pomfrey worked her magic. The game resumed with the referee's whistle, but Coach Steven appeared to have other ideas.

  He called Potter to get ready, and five minutes later, Flint was replaced by Hogwarts' substitute Seeker, reluctantly returning to the bench. He didn't voice any arguments, and it became clear that Steven's training wasn't the only thing respected by the players—his decisions carried weight as well.

  When Flint sat down, Steven eyed him for a moment before asking sternly, "Do you know why I switched you out?"

  The Slytherin senior didn't answer right away, his head lowered and fists clenched under his robes. After a brief pause, he finally raised his head. "I was... careless, Coach. I wasn't taking things seriously."

  "That's right. As the Seeker, you're the last person who should behave that way," Steven said sharply. "Just because there's a new rule about ending the game after 150 points doesn't mean you can forget what your job is. Even if the score were 140 to 0 against Hogwarts, your focus should be on catching the Snitch. That's your damn job. No matter how confident you think your chances of winning are, you are not allowed to sit back and take it easy."

  Flint nodded silently, taking every word to heart. Though he was arrogant by nature, he held great respect for this famous Quidditch star who was now his coach.

  And Steven saw this in Flint's expression, so after the scolding, his tone softened slightly. "The next game with Durmstrang won't be this easy. I need you at your best, so take this time to relax. The second reason I switched you out was to prevent you from sustaining a serious injury before then."

  The Slytherin captain's eyes lit up at that, and he nodded resolutely this time. "Thank you, Coach. And... this won't happen again."

  Steven gave him a firm nod before turning his attention back to the game. Years of professional Quidditch had honed his vision to near eagle-like precision, and his eyes locked onto the newcomer on the field. Harry Potter was darting around the pitch, frantically searching for the Snitch while effortlessly dodging Bludgers that were being "accidentally" sent his way.

  Tsk. These kids are already starting to play dirty, Steven thought to himself.

  Meanwhile, murmurs rippled through the crowd at the decision to substitute a senior player for someone so much younger. The British in the stands, of course, knew exactly who Harry Potter was, but many of the international spectators were less familiar with him.

  Nonetheless, while Harry was widely recognized as the savior of wizarding Britain, he certainly wasn't seen as the savior of Quidditch.

  "And stepping in as the substitute Seeker—Harry Potter!"

  But in any case, the moment Lee Jordan's announcement rang out, the crowd instinctively erupted into wild cheers. Harry, with a focused and determined expression, mounted his broom. Without hesitation, he shot into the air, ready to prove himself and turn the game around.

  "What a talented little guy..." Maxime commented, her eyes following Harry's swift movements in the air. His flying skills were remarkable, and it wasn't just her who noticed. The entire audience seemed to share the same sentiment. This seemingly young substitute for the Hogwarts team was maneuvering through the skies with a level of skill that rivaled, if not surpassed, that of his much older opponent.

  At the same time, some spectators—most likely scouts from professional Quidditch teams—began jotting down notes in their books, their eyes gleaming with interest.

  "Is he a descendant of Charlie?" Maxime asked, curious.

  Dumbledore nodded lightly. "The last living Potter, sadly."

  "What a pity," Maxime remarked after a pause. "A family that has produced at least one Great-Magus in every generation... to die out all because of one madman."

  At her words, Karkaroff, seated just a few chairs away, stiffened. The mention of his old master by an Archmage was enough to unnerve him, though he quickly tried to hide his reaction. However, his subtle discomfort did not go unnoticed by the others. Dumbledore, Maxime, and Maverick all caught the flicker of tension in his posture.

  But none of them said anything. Maverick, for one, didn't care, and it seemed neither did Dumbledore nor Maxime. To them, Karkaroff was just a small fish that had slipped away back then. And a little fish, no matter how squirmy, was still just a little fish.

  Time passed slowly, and the Hogwarts team inched closer to scoring the 150 points needed for victory. However, just after their 12th goal, bringing their total to 120 points, their Seeker, Harry Potter, suddenly began displaying some unusual movements.

  "What the..." Harry murmured under his breath as his broomstick, which had been under his full control until now, started feeling as though something had latched onto it. He scanned his surroundings, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  "Woah!" he yelped when his broom made a sudden, violent movement, veering left and right as if it had come alive and was trying to throw him off. Harry held on tightly with all his might, assuming it was a malfunction and trying desperately to regain control.

  "What's going on with the Hogwarts Seeker?"

  "I don't know... Looks like he's lost control."

  "Tsk. Figures. He's just a kid—not ready for the competitive stage yet."

  The crowd murmured in confusion, some scrutinizing the situation while others voiced their concern, as more people began to notice the abnormality with Harry's broomstick. However, the referee didn't blow the whistle to pause the game—he couldn't. According to the rules, unless the player was injured or separated from their broomstick, intervention wasn't permitted.

  The game continued, and this mishap seemed to breathe new life into the Beauxbatons team. They began pressing the Hogwarts players harder, gaining momentum as the Hogwarts team struggled to stay focused while constantly glancing at Harry.

  "Interesting..." Maxime commented, her eyes narrowing in amusement as she watched the scene unfold. She turned to Dumbledore and Maverick. "Looks like someone nasty slipped through your security..."

  Unlike most of the audience, the three Arch-Magi in the VIP stand could sense the magic affecting Harry's broom. It wasn't a malfunction, and they knew it—it was a curse.

  "Aren't you going to pause the game, Albus?" Maxime asked.

  Instead of responding, Dumbledore glanced at Maverick, silently seeking his reaction. Unlike Maxime, Dumbledore knew Maverick could also sense what was happening and seemed to defer to his opinion.

  Has old Voldy decided to act already? Maverick thought while spreading his Magical Sense in an attempt to locate the culprit. He was nearly certain this was Voldemort's doing. Seeing Harry on the field must have tempted him to seize the opportunity to harm him.

  Found you!

  Maverick locked onto a man sitting inconspicuously at the very back of the public stands. The man's mouth moved rapidly, clearly chanting some dark incantation. Unlike the original timeline, Snape wasn't present to counter the curse, and Hermione Granger wasn't there to intervene and "accidentally" save the day.

  No matter, Maverick thought, deciding it was time to teach this vile piece of work a lesson. And this was a perfect opportunity to test his newly acquired talent, Nature Energy Manipulation, instead of relying on conventional magic.

  Focusing on the bench Quirrell sat on, Maverick acted decisively.

  A moment later, Quirrell's chanting came to an abrupt halt. His eyes bulged, his mouth gaped in a silent cry, and his body stiffened unnaturally. A feminine squeak escaped his lips as tears welled up in his eyes.

  Back in the VIP stand, Maverick smirked as he watched Quirrell's reaction through his Magical-Sense. That's right. He let Professor Quirrell experience his new disaster-level magic, which he had shamelessly plagiarized from a studio next door. He called it Hogwarts' Hidden Secret Technique: One Thousand Years of Death.

  (Author's Note: For those unfamiliar with the reference—let's just say Quirrell might have a hard time sitting comfortably or taking a dump for the foreseeable future.)

  "Looks like Harry Potter's back in the game, ladies and gentlemen!" Lee Jordan's voice echoed across the stadium, bringing the audience back to the action as Harry regained full control of his broom.

  "But in that brief moment, Beauxbatons had somehow managed to score two more goals, bringing the score from 130–30 to 130–50. Unfortunately, my dear friends from France, unless your team somehow catches the Snitch, this game is all but lost to you."

  The Hogwarts students, along with the majority of the audience, cheered loudly, seemingly agreeing with the commentator's remark. It wasn't biased, just a fact. Unless the Beauxbatons team managed to catch the Snitch, they had almost no chance of a comeback.

  Harry, now steady and refocused, got back into the game almost immediately. Flying swiftly, he dodged a bludger with ease, and as he made a turn, his sharp eyes caught a golden glint darting across the pitch, not too far away.

  The Snitch.

  His eyes widened briefly before narrowing with determination.

  Woosh!