Thin sunlight drifted through a dusty pink sky, soft and distant as it met the cold, dry air. Faint winds moved across the ground in slow sweeps, lifting ribbons of red dust that twisted and settled with quiet ease. Everywhere in sight, the landscape looked washed out under the pale sun, and distant horizons blurred slightly in the ever-present haze.

  Crouching down, Maverick scooped up a handful of dry, orange sand, the grains tapping lightly against the reinforced gloves of his suit as he tested the texture. There wasn't anything remarkable about it. Through the layers of composite fabric, it felt like… well, sand.

  Letting the loose grit fall back to the ground, he pushed himself upright, his eyes sweeping over the endless expanse before him. The land stretched in muted silence, a vast plain of rocky terrain interrupted by shallow ridges and patches of cracked soil.

  Small stones littered the surface like shards of broken pottery, each coated in the familiar burnt-orange hue. In the distance, rounded hills rose gently, sculpted by ancient winds rather than water, their forms glowing softly in shades of red. The silence was absolute. No birds chirped here, no leaves rustled, nothing stirred, save for the faint hiss of the thin wind sliding past him.

  "Caeser..."

  "Caeser!"

  Before his transmigration, he had seen Mars through NASA's rover footage, crisp and clear on a screen. The scenes were accurate, but a screen could never replicate the sensation of being here. The orange-red hue clung to every surface, as if the world itself wore a permanent filter.

  "CAESER!"

  When he finally reached the coordinates blinking on his retina, he had first lingered, letting the full scope of the scene register in his head. Of course, he had seen many incredible, extraordinary things ever since his transmigration, but still, this was a moment to be remembered, and not exactly for the sight before him, but for the journey that had brought him here, which had spanned millions of miles and countless days.

  If only his communicator would stop buzzing and spared him a moment. He exhaled, the sound escaping like a small cloud inside his helmet. "I can hear you, Howard."

  "Why aren't you responding? Never mind that. How do you feel?" Howard's voice poured through the comm in an unstoppable rush of questions. If anything, Howard, despite being all the way back on Earth, sounded far more excited than he felt.

  "What could possibly be wrong with me?" Maverick almost rolled his eyes before directing a question to the only alien on the other end of the line. "Norex, is this the correct location for our first base?"

  He stood at the spot blinking on his helmet's display. The area around him was wide and flat enough, free of hills or mountains, and there were no signs of sandstorms anywhere in sight.

  "Yes. Based on the data, that is the best possible location for setting up a base, taking all variables into account."

  "Good." Hearing the confirmation, Maverick nodded, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Have everyone who wants to visit Mars today put on the gear and head to the containment room. Once they're ready, just let me know."

  The next thing he heard was a frenzy of excited voices, and he couldn't help shaking his head, letting out a chuckle. After all, what scientist on Earth, or rather, who on Earth, would not want to step onto another planet if given the chance? In any case, this was simply to give everyone a taste of standing on the Red Planet's surface, walking around a bit, and satisfying the curiosity of their inner child.

  While the others prepared themselves, Maverick continued his inspection. Rising above the ground once again, he flew higher, reaching about half a kilometer, and pushed his magic to the limit, spreading his senses through a third eye to observe the region. Who knows, he might stumble onto something unexpected.

  Well, he didn't. Figures. Sand, rocks, and more sand stretched for miles. On the bright side, though, he didn't notice anything unusual while channelling his magic. The ambient magic, it seems, is like a universal force, similar to cosmic energy that is present everywhere. It was a little thin, sure, but still there.

  That means factors such as the presence of life or anything similar do not determine whether magic exists or can be channelled. Well, that's still a hypothesis, something for the alchemists to research while they are here.

  Back on the ground again, this time he directed his magic beneath the surface instead of around him, simply on a whim. The comms remained silent, and his team was busy rushing into their suits, so in the meantime, he had nothing to do, and his actions were just a passing curiosity with no real expectations.

  However, not a moment later, after his magic probed beneath the soil, his eyes lit up, and, "fuck," he couldn't help but curse aloud. Subsequently, almost by instinct, his arms sank to the ground, palms pressing firmly against the soil.

  In his excitement, he didn't care how much magic he was unleashing. The rocks and dirt around him had even begun to levitate, as if gravity itself were faltering. His vast, endless ocean of magic surged outward like a flood rushing underground, and the deeper it spread, the wider his eyes grew in disbelief.

  Water. There was no mistaking it. Absolutely, there was a large reservoir of water directly below. A little deeper, but it was there, about a hundred meters under him.

  "Hang on, boss man, we're almost ready." Maybe it was the curse he let slip into the open comms, but not long after, Howard's voice rang inside his helmet.

  "No, Howard. Everyone!" he replied excitedly. "There's water! Underground! I found water underground!"

  A moment of silence stretched, and he didn't get an immediate response. For a heartbeat, he thought the other end hadn't received the message, and just as he was about to repeat himself, someone finally exclaimed from the other side:

  "You… you're not joking, right?"

  "Wait… no, how sure are you, boss?"

  "Mr. Caesar, how far down is it? How did you even find it?"

  One by one, more scientists joined the comms, each voice alive with the same excitement. Why wouldn't they be excited? It hadn't even been an hour, and already they were hearing that water had been discovered on Mars, something that had only ever been speculated and never confirmed.

  "With my magic," Maverick responded, rolling his eyes at the obvious. "How much longer are you guys going to take?"

  "A few minutes, boss man. Everyone wants to go. Everyone," Howard emphasized. He, too, sounded just as eager as the rest..

  "Okay. Just give me a heads-up once everyone's ready." He wasn't surprised at their enthusiasm. As long as there were enough suits in the lab for everyone to gear up, it was fine. Besides, the portal didn't cost him anything—it was like opening a door, and voilà, welcome to Mars.

  In the meantime, he got back to his feet, glanced around, and opened a portal once again, transferring himself to a point far away, as far as his eyes could reach. Curiosity bubbled inside him—he had to know. Was it just a little? Was it only there? Could there be more than one?

  Once again, he crouched, pressed his palms to the ground, and probed. His smile grew wider. It was a little deeper here, but regardless, he detected water underground again. And it wasn't just a small pocket, it was a vast reservoir, just like the first point he had checked.

  Even though his magical sense couldn't spread underground as widely as it did in open air, he could still detect a range of at least a thousand meters below, through rock and soil. What excited him most was that, at the end of his probe, the reservoir was still there, meaning it extended far deeper than his magical sense could reach.

  He wanted to keep checking, but after getting to his feet, he let the exhilaration wash over him first. Later, he thought, suppressing the urge. There would be plenty of time. Besides, this was only the beginning.

  Once the base was up and research underway, his team could fan out across the planet. Some adjustments to the overall plan were inevitable now that water was confirmed, but they were all heading in a positive direction nonetheless. Previously, locating water had been a task on the list, but that section could now be removed. Resources would naturally be redirected toward other priorities—determining how much water was in this reservoir, whether others existed in different locations, and whether their chemical compositions matched. All good news, and the mission had barely even begun.

  As for starting to build the base and how it would be done, that had long been discussed and even set into motion. Having surfaced on the planet, he could now come and go at will, bringing in and taking out anything he needed.

  Why haul bricks one by one when he could transport entire pre-built sections and put together a base like a massive Lego creation? The plan was to have sections of the base completed in portions on Earth first, then transport and connect them, much like how the ISS was expanded. Of course, this included bringing along the necessary machinery to operate such a large-scale project.

  The first structures planned for completion were a decent-sized living space, a storage area, and a small research center, which shouldn't take much time. The entire base of operations, on the other hand, would be a gradual process, estimated to take perhaps a year. Meanwhile, a team would always be stationed here, rotated periodically, of course.

  Today, though, everyone was coming here simply to satisfy their inner curiosity, indulging the childish thrill of walking on the surface of another planet.

  —————————

  On a wide stretch of rust-red ground, where broken stones and drifting dust shaped the lonely landscape, a group of people stood in silence, their bodies fully covered in protective attire, facing the fading light of the setting sun.

  Click.

  Click.

  Cameras clicked, flashes washing over the group while they seized that single heartbeat of time.

  One recording settled into a still image built from ones and zeros, and the other drifted into a moving picture shaped by runes and magical energy.

  The picture revealed a small group of men and women, all dressed in identical outfits, standing on rust-colored sands while a gentle crimson glow spread across the sky. The landscape behind them lifted into rolling hills of rock and dust, and in front of the group a planted flag swayed softly in the pale, passing wind.

  The moment carried the grainy charm of footage captured on a seventies camera. In the years to come, these images would hang in museums and fill the pages of history books, marking the moment humanity stepped into a new chapter, perhaps of its entire existence.

  ---

  Nearly half a day had passed since Maverick opened the portal between Earth and Mars, and his team still buzzed with restless energy. The setting sun cast long shadows as they wandered like toddlers in a sandbox, scooping rust-colored sand, picking at odd rocks, and staring at everything with eyes so wide they could hold the horizon.

  The sunset on Mars lacked the bold colors of Earth, yet it was no less mesmerizing. Deep orange and gold lingered in the sky, and the light stretched thin as it washed the horizon with gentle blues and muted reds, as if the sun were slipping behind a veil of dust.

  As the glow settled across the landscape, everyone agreed that the moment belonged in the history books. To mark it, Maverick added a final touch by planting a simple flag in the ground and gathered the team for a photo.

  They stood side by side, captivated as they watched the pale sun sink toward the horizon. To Maverick's left and right stood Howard and Norex, while Bucky and Howard's wife took their places at the sides, and the others fell naturally into a loose line behind them.

  The flag stood at the front, nothing more than a simple piece of cloth covered with everyone's signatures on both sides. It carried no symbol and belonged to no nation, and even though it had been a decision made on a whim, it felt more meaningful than any polished emblem.

  "The initial base will be ready for installation in about a month. After today's little triumph, I think it is safe to say the team is fired up and ready to make it happen as soon as possible," Howard said quietly as the wind brushed against them, while also running through the plan for the coming weeks.

  "I leave everything to you." Maverick listened with a thoughtful nod. "Just don't call me every day to transport things. My schedule at the school is already tight enough."

  "Still, until the base is finished…" Howard smiled at the fading light. "After that, once a week should be fine, right?" He turned his head slightly.

  "Can you two drop the work talk for a bit?"

  Maria let out a small breath as she held onto Howard's arm. "Take this in. We're actually standing on another planet."

  "Listen to your lady, Howard," Maverick chuckled.

  Maria smiled and glanced at him. "On a serious note… a year ago, I remember this was all just talk. But I'm sure of it now, Mr. Caesar. Your grand vision will come true someday."

  Maverick leaned his head slightly, a sly glint in his eyes. "So... does that mean you didn't believe me before?" he asked, raising a brow.

  "I…"

  Howard quickly answered for her, raising his hands. "You can't blame her. What you proposed back then would have sounded absurd to anyone."

  Bucky also chuckled. "I'm taking Howard's side on this, boss. Even with the crazy things I've seen, not once in my life did I think I'd stand on an alien world."

  "There's literally an alien next to you," Maverick nudged his head toward Norex.

  All three of them turned to Norex and, shrugging together, smiled.

  "He doesn't count."

  The sun slipped lower and lower, casting the land in quiet, muted color. As night fell, the Martian sky grew sharper than anything they had ever seen. Without humidity to blur the stars and without pollution to dim them, the heavens stretched above like black glass sprinkled with silver dust.

  Unlike on Earth, where stars twinkled, here they shone with hard, unwavering brightness that made the universe feel almost within reach. It was a moment they knew would stay with them forever. Even when the light faded, they did not move to leave.

  Curiosity kept them wandering since everything around them seemed fresh and unfamiliar. They noticed every rock, every glimmer of mineral, and every change in the sky, and this made them want to begin studying it all at once, in that very moment.

  But hunger and exhaustion still reminded them of their human limits, and they could not stay without food or sleep for long. Nevertheless, Maverick did not rush them and allowed them to savor the moment.

  Only after they insisted did he lead them back through the gateway, and the entire team went out for a celebratory dinner, still buzzing with excitement.

  Time slipped by steadily, with days turning into weeks and weeks stretching into months. March slowly gave way to April, and the weather followed suit, changing without warning. The chill of winter receded as spring made its cautious entrance, sending warm breezes to mingle with rain that came and went like whispered thoughts. Soon, May arrived quietly, without much notice.

  Nothing remarkable happened at Hogwarts during that time, although the Quidditch excitement had reached new heights now that the all-stars were playing for their house teams.

  Dumbledore, too, seemed unusually cheerful, though no one suspected it was because he had been cured of his life-threatening ailment. The old man was… well, clearly up to something, but Maverick did not bother to find out.

  At the same time, while the school carried on as usual, Maverick's schedule was almost overflowing. For two months, nearly every afternoon after classes, he functioned as a living gateway, ferrying materials, trucks, heavy machinery, and all the supplies required for the Mars mission.

  The initial base expanded rapidly, resting on a solid foundation designed to endure violent dust storms, and it was finished in just over a month. On the bright side, with the machinery finally running, Maverick no longer had to shoulder every heavy task.

  A portion of his team was now stationed on the Mars base, already beginning their research. Now, Maverick's visits were limited to delivering supplies or rotating personnel only, while the crew handled the completion of compartments and installations independently. This growing autonomy allowed him to focus on other matters.

  By early May, with his routine returning to normal, he finally had time to consider a project of his own: constructing a gateway through alchemy between Mars and Earth. Even though he now only needed to serve as a hub once a week, enabling his team to move between the planets independently would make the operation far more efficient.

  It might sound easy, but it was far from it. For starters, even with his expertise as a master alchemist, the magical system alone offered no way to bypass its limitations. Yet by combining it with the sorcery system, he could theoretically create a stable teleportation device linking the two bases.

  This time, though, he wasn't drawing on ideas from his previous life. Instead, it would be a project entirely his own, with no theoretical blueprints to rely on, and he would have to design, test, and complete it on his own.

  It was certainly difficult, but not beyond his abilities. He felt confident that, given enough time, he could bring the project to life, possibly even completing it before the year was out.

  And speaking of the year, it was now early May and just a month away from year-end exams. That meant exams, exams, and exams, and being a teacher, he was responsible for creating them, and he had to prepare five sets this year, from 1st to 3rd years and 6th and 7th.

  Who would have thought a dignified archmage would be reduced to juggling minutes like this? But even if he wanted to complain, he had only himself to blame. After all, who had asked him to fall into Dumbledore's pyramid scheme and agree to professor two whole subjects?

  Maybe it was time, he thought, sitting in his Hogwarts office with a steaming cup of coffee, to pester the old man about hiring someone for the alchemy classes, at least for the younger students. Because next year his schedule would only get tighter.

  Taking a sip and exhaling the steam, he set the cup back on the table and leaned back. And just then, he felt his pocket vibrate, reached in, and pulled out his phone.

  It was… he hummed, raising an eyebrow. Lucius?

  Despite his busy schedule over the past two months, he had not neglected the important matters that would feed into next year's plans.

  For starters, at the end of April, Minister Greengrass had finally informed him that the ministry—or at least all its regular departments—was under his complete authority, with the right people placed in the right positions.

  Meanwhile, Lucius, his very own Snape, kept him updated on the pure-blood circles, their movements, and whether any moron was planning something that could cause him trouble. Fortunately, they had been quiet, and perhaps unfortunately, too quiet.

  After Pattegrew had so conveniently "escaped," no word of him had been heard, even within the Death Eater circles, and not a single mention of the supposedly dead noseless wanker had appeared in their communications.

  But it seems... that was all about to change.

  "Interesting," he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at the text.

  —————————

  Rumble!

  The sky convulsed as thunderclouds crashed against one another in a furious, endless cycle.

  Crackle!

  Lightning burst outward in wild, twisting forks and each flash framed the massive structure below in stark white, turning it into a titan standing defiantly beneath a sky that seemed determined to swallow it whole.

  Below, the sea raged. Waves heaved upward and smashed against the cliffs with furious strength, exploding into spray that vanished into the storm winds. The entire island felt locked between two wraths, one above and one below, and the air pulsed with raw, crackling pressure.

  Azkaban. Island, fortress, storm and sea, all work together as if the world built this place to cage the damned. Its very name is tied to despair, its walls echo with madness, and its inmates rot under the presence of Dementors who feed on every trace of happiness and trap them with their darkest memories.

  Only once in its entire history has anyone ever escaped from here, and that single incident was immediately buried under layers of countermeasures as soon as the method was discovered. It was, in truth, a rather unremarkable escape, simply exploiting a loophole and nothing to do with overwhelming magic.

  To this day, a forceful escape was considered impossible, as the prisoners could barely hold themselves together after the Dementors had their way with them. An attack from the outside was never even considered, perhaps because in the dreadful fortress's long history, nothing like that had ever happened.

  BOOOM!

  Amid the thunderclaps shaking the skies and the roar of the ocean, suddenly, a deafening explosion tore through the eastern side of the colossal structure, carving a charred scar of molten rock across the wall.

  ROAR!

  From the jagged breach, a torrent of fire erupted in a sweeping inferno, curling and twisting like a massive serpent that howled against the raging storm.

  Moving closer to the opening, two silhouettes became clear, one cloaked entirely in black, a hood pulled low over their face, and the other a woman who looked as if madness itself had taken shape. Her eyes were bulging, and her smile looked wicked and unhinged as she lowered her wand, surveying the carnage she had unleashed with unsettling satisfaction.

  ---

  TERROR AT AZKABAN: DEATH AND DESTRUCTION ENSUE!

  Setting the stack of papers down, Maverick leaned back in his chair and a light smirk appeared on his lips. His eyes drifted once more to the moving picture beneath the headline, where the scene of Azkaban replayed in stark detail. Thunder and lightning raged across the sky, the sea thrashed violently against the cliffs, and the prison's eastern wall had been torn open like a jagged, bleeding scar.

  It was a prison break, obviously, though one that started from the outside. A band of dark wizards led by a mysterious greatmagi shattered the outer defenses and threw Azkaban into turmoil. The Aurors arrived almost instantly and fought hard until the situation finally settled under their control.

  Well, that was the official report, at least. The article claimed the Ministry's elite Aurors arrived just in time to stop the chaos from spreading, conveniently leaving out any mention of escapes.

  If it were any other time, he would have scoffed at the article, however, this time he couldn't even if he wanted to. Everything had happened from start to finish, from the chaos to the aftermath and even the reports, all of it unfolding under his knowing, or rather, under his acquiescence.

  In fact, he had been there at Azkaban when it all happened.

  At first, when he received the news from Lucius, he was a bit taken aback, because he remembered nothing like this happening in the original story, at least before Voldemort's resurrection. But just as quickly he brushed the thought aside, because he had learned by now that not everything would happen in the canonical order, or even happen at all.

  Still, though, logically speaking, launching an attack on Azkaban would be sheer madness for any ordinary witch or wizard, or even for a daring group of them. It was simply not worth it, because, terrifying as the prison was hailed to be, the inmates there were nearly all nothing but Magus rank or lower.

  To risk getting caught, or worse dying for a bunch of Magus?rank prisoners, would simply be a stupid decision.

  Moreover, it was no secret that the prison had a direct link to the Ministry of Magic, and elite Aurors, including Britain's Great Magi, could be dispatched in no time should any ruckus occur.

  Not to mention, the guards there were not exactly nobodies either, and by guards, actual witches and wizards—few in number, yes, but still stationed throughout the prison. After all, if it were only Dementors guarding the prison, the first thing that would happen to the prisoners would be death by starvation.

  In other words, it would have been impossible if it had been just a bunch of Death Eaters at the Magus rank to pull it off, but somehow, it turned out they had help from an unknown Great Mage who led the operation.

  Maverick had no idea how Voldemort's sorry state had even managed to convince a Great Mage to do it, and he did not care anyway.

  Moving on, what really happened was that the "mysterious" Great Mage struck Azkaban from the outside and freed Voldemort's Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, the most dangerous inmate locked in the prison at the time.

  The madwoman was a Great Magi herself and Voldemort's most formidable lieutenant, having served him during the upheaval that had shaken wizarding Britain over a decade ago.

  The part about the Ministry dispatching its elite force in time to intercept was true as well, with Alastor Moody leading the offensive. Unfortunately, they were still unable to prevent all of the Death Eaters from escaping. After all, Moody was only one man and could not contend with two Great Magi working together.

  To their credit, though, the Aurors did manage to stop many of those attempting to escape, leaving only a dozen or so of the hundreds to truly become fugitives.

  Meanwhile, Maverick simply made sure no Aurors died in the skirmish, with a miss here and a nudge there—basically, every single exchange of hexes was completely under his control. Of course, nobody there knew a puppet master was twirling his fingers and assumed everything had happened by coincidence.

  He also did not take any action to stop the fugitives who escaped, including Bellatrix Lestrange. Anyways, they would not be making any moves before old Voldy was resurrected and would likely lay low until then.

  It was not a guess, and he had confirmed it by listening to the exchanges between Bellatrix and the other Great Magus. Mad as the woman was, she would follow Voldemort's orders as if they were gospel.

  What he did do, however, amid all the chaos, was plant a highly advanced tracking magic from the Sorcery system on every single one who had managed to escape from Moody and his men. Now, there was nowhere on earth they could hide from him, and more importantly, he would know exactly where Voldemort was.

  Hmm?

  Outside the floor-to-ceiling window lay only darkness, the hour creeping past midnight while the castle slept in utter silence. His train of thoughts were interrupted when his magic alerted someone closing in on his office door.

  What's this old thing doing here in the middle of the night?

  A knock came, but before the second one, he waved his hand and the door opened, revealing Dumbledore, thank Merlin not in his nightgown, holding a candlelight on the other side.

  "Headmaster, to what do I owe this… untimely visit?"

  The old man unceremoniously let himself in, though Maverick saw none of the usual expressions on his face. Even that damn annoying twinkle in his eyes was gone. And while Dumbledore tried to hide it, Maverick could tell from the first glance that plenty of bubbling thoughts were churning inside his head.

  He sat down across the table from him, set the candle on the surface and let out an exhale.

  "I take it you've seen the newspaper?" His eyes darted momentarily to the stack of papers in front of Maverick first, then to him.

  "Hard to miss…" Maverick shrugged. "Is there something you want to talk about, Headmaster?"

  Dumbledore stared at him absentmindedly for a moment, then instead of answering, he posed a question in return. "You know what this means, right?"

  "You'll have to be a little bit more specific…"

  "Lord Voldemort…" he said, as if releasing something heavy from his chest. "He's ready to make his move..."

  Maverick leaned back first, resting his elbow on the chair's armrest and tilting his head slightly. He really wanted to pry open the old man's skull at this moment and check his brain to see what in Merlin's name was wrong. A dignified archmage behaving so pathetically, it was honestly embarrassing.

  "You think they might start terrorizing Britain again, or make a move on Hogwarts… or," he said after a brief pause, "come after Potter?"

  "Indeed." Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I spoke with Severus. He tells me the mark Lord Voldemort left on him has grown… considerably stronger, all at once."

  "You think he's somehow resurrected?"

  "No." Shaking his head, Dumbledore also leaned back. "The Dark Lord, he must have found a way at least. And he is preparing."

  Maverick let out a long exhale and decided to speak directly about what was on his mind. "Headmaster, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but why are you acting like the whole world is about to end? Even if that lunatic regains the full power of his heyday, you're still Albus Dumbledore. You've even broken free from his curse, so why are you behaving… embarrassingly..." He paused briefly, then added, "Forgive me for saying it, but like a coward?"

  Dumbledore raised his head but did not answer.

  "What is it about him that makes you look so weak?" Maverick continued without pause. "I can't even recognize you like this."

  "You don't understand his madness, Maverick." Dumbledore drew in a deep breath. "You weren't there. He is evil. The purest, darkest kind of evil you can imagine, the sort that would do anything to get his way. And if he thinks he can't reach you, he will go after those around you, threaten them, take hostages… anything."

  Merlin's thick beard. How much had old Voldy tortured this man psychologically while he was alive?

  "During his rampage over a decade ago…" Dumbledore went on, murmuring, "…the Dark Lord used every vile trick he could imagine to strike at me. Knowing he could not best me in magic, he turned his cruelty on everyone close to me—my students, my friends, my allies. So many perished. And even without ever confronting me directly, he ensured I suffered every ounce of pain he could inflict. Even those who survived, like the Longbottoms, remain trapped in hospital wards to this day, neither truly dead nor truly alive."

  He lifted his head, his expression solemn, and met Maverick's gaze. "The Dark Lord is a danger of an entirely different kind. People think he is a madman, and they are absolutely right. But I know that boy. He is mad beyond reconciliation, yet shrewd in his thinking. He is a schemer... the most vile of his kind. Otherwise, he would have confronted me directly instead of resorting to all those dirty, despicable means."

  "He is not Gellert," he sighed, "nor a straightforward terrorist. It would be foolish to underestimate him, or his methods, simply because someone might surpass him in magical skill. I learned that lesson the hard way."

  A tense silence stretched across the office as the two, one old, one young, held each other's gaze. Maverick's expression had grown serious as well, for what Dumbledore had said was neither an over-glorification nor an exaggeration.

  Now, was Maverick being overly confident in his own strength, so much so that he hadn't even considered those points? Not at all. He was well aware of just how much of a lunatic Voldemort was. Yet, as Dumbledore had pointed out, he also knew that Voldemort was a cunning, scheming mind, one who planned far beyond raw madness.

  At this moment, Voldemort was at his weakest, reduced to a decadent wraith, with nothing more pressing than reclaiming a physical body of his own. And precisely because of that, Maverick was fairly certain Voldemort would not allow his dogs to fuck around and find out, risking exposure or revealing his location before he was fully resurrected.

  Anyway, Maverick had marked every single one he had allowed to escape, deep down to the root of their souls. They could not hide from him, and as a result, Voldemort would now always remain under his radar.

  "It's not that I haven't considered those points, Headmaster." Maverick gave the old man a nod, briefly diverting his gaze, and let out a sigh. Perhaps, he thought, it was about time to come completely clean.

  With that thought, he raised his arm, coiled his fingers, and his Patronus sprang to life between them, splitting into two shimmering ravens.

  In front of Dumbledore's inquisitive gaze, he murmured, "Go," and the Patronus shot forward, phasing effortlessly through the window, while Maverick met the old wizard's eyes once more.

  "It's best if Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are here as well."

  "To discuss countermeasures against the Dark Lord?" Dumbledore tilted his head, a flicker of puzzlement in his expression at Maverick's sudden, inexplicable actions.

  "No," Maverick said quietly. "To confess. I haven't been entirely honest with all of you."

  —————————

  Candlelight flickered softly, blending with the steady orange glow of the table lamps, sending restless shadows crawling across the quiet room.

  "This had better be something important, Professor. I have had a rather exhausting day." Wearing her nightgown and certainly not in her best mood, Minerva McGonagall gave Maverick a pointed glare as she took her seat.

  "My apologies for the untimely summons, professors…" Maverick slid three steaming teacups outward across the table with a humble smile.

  "If you truly mean that," McGonagall muttered, "then how about taking over supervising detention for those two trouble magnets of my house for the rest of the term?" She blew across her cup before taking a long sip, as if she needed it more than air.

  Across the table sat Maverick and Dumbledore, while beside her was Flitwick, who had arrived with her after the abrupt Patronus Maverick sent to their private chambers.

  "I'd rather fight an army of aliens again, Professor…" Maverick chuckled and leaned back. Supervising the Weasley twins' detention? He really wasn't joking.

  "Tell you what," he added, "I'll have the newest model of Magic Vision delivered to your office next week instead."

  Cough. And just then, Flitwick cleared his throat, because after all, McGonagall was not the only one dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.

  "Of course, it's for the two of you." Maverick's smile grew, glancing at the little man across from him.

  "Bah… you don't have to, Professor," Flitwick said with a sheepish grin. "Though I do rather like the color violet."

  "Duly noted."

  McGonagall rolled her eyes at their antics, then turned to Maverick while also glancing briefly between him and Dumbledore in front of her. Her mentor had been rather quiet, she thought, and she sighed inwardly. He must also not be in a good mood after being summoned so abruptly.

  Maverick: ...

  "Speaking of aliens," she continued seriously, "surely it can't be another invasion, right?"

  "Ah... no." Maverick shook his head, then paused briefly. "Although, not entirely magical either." He glanced sideways at the old wizard, then back to the two again. "First, I hope you will allow me to finish speaking once I start. It's a matter of great importance, and I'd like to explain everything clearly…"

  At his words, McGonagall, Flitwick, and even Dumbledore all turned serious. Knowing Maverick, anything described as 'not small' or 'of great importance' carried tremendous weight.

  "Go on, or do you want us to swear an oath first?" Flitwick asked.

  "No." Maverick shook his head and snapped his fingers decisively, summoning the mirror dimension to envelop the entire room. "There's no need for oaths, but please don't mind my precautions."

  "Truly fascinating magic. I can no longer sense the presence of Hogwarts," Flitwick murmured, turning his head to inspect the space. He did not panic, nor did the others, and they simply assumed Maverick was taking precautions to keep their discussion discreet.

  Still, here at the heart of Hogwarts, they could not grasp the need for such extreme precautions.

  Only Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, and that was it. He remained patient, more curious than concerned, wondering what this "confession" might entail.

  Maverick raised his arm, and on his third finger, an exquisite, ancient-looking ring materialized. Its face bore a black stone etched with intricate, interwoven lines forming a spiral labyrinth, with tiny runes circling the edge, pulsating faintly with a soft inner light.

  The three did not recognize the symbol, assuming it only to be a storage ring, and waited, anticipating what might come next: another summon? Something otherworldly drawn from the ring?

  But contrary to their expectations, Maverick simply lowered his arm, as if the earlier display had meant nothing. Puzzled, they exchanged glances, but Maverick ignored them and finally got to the point.

  "By this time next year..." He leaned forward, hands clasped together, elbows on his knees, eyes shadowed by a furrowed brow.

  "I'll have a plan in motion that will reveal magic to the entire world."

  Perhaps it was the weight of the revelation, or simply too much of a bombshell, but neither Dumbledore, McGonagall, nor Flitwick showed any outward reaction to his declaration. Still, Maverick raised a hand, motioning them to remain silent.

  "Allow me to explain everything first," He said, thinking it best to start with Voldy, since the plan would ultimately end with him as well. "It all begins with someone you are all quite familiar with… Tom Riddle, who, contrary to popular belief, is not dead..."

  ---

  The short hand of the clock had unknowingly passed two digits before Maverick was finally able to narrate everything swirling inside his head. He did not hold back this time. From Voldemort to his Horcruxes, how he had discovered them, how many he had destroyed, and how many remained, he told them everything, including his plan to destroy the rest.

  Of course, not everything he said was true to the letter, but he made sure it was as believable as possible. Some, like how he came to know about the Horcruxes, he attributed directly to the Sorcerer Supreme.

  Anyway, even if they went to her for confirmation—which Maverick was sure they wouldn't—he was confident the old lady would give him face or cover for him with some clever excuse.

  Beyond Voldemort, he also explained why he had meddled in the country's politics, even going so far as to orchestrate a coup to replace the Minister. He mentioned the Malfoy family and how they were now his spies, and with the movements of the Ministry of Magic and the Death Eater circles under his control, he narrated how everything would fall into place next year.

  (A/N: I know I'm not giving all the details, and that's intentional. You may have a general idea of the MC's plan by now, but I want to leave some surprises for when I bring you the scenes themselves.)

  Without giving them a chance to interrupt, Maverick concluded his explanation, covering the precautions, the risks, and just how far he had prepared, while leaving some plans still in motion. When he finished, he could at least see their pupils relax slightly, which he took as a promising sign.

  "Do you have any idea, young man," the stern lady finally snapped, forgetting to call him even Professor—whether deliberately or by accident, Maverick couldn't tell. "Do you have any idea how completely mad you sound?"

  "Yeah… I've heard that from a couple of people," Maverick sighed, leaning back and raising his head to the ceiling. Every single person he had confessed his plans to had dubbed him mad, so it barely registered with him.

  "How can that aloof, moronic, muscle-bound man even agree to all that? Even agreeing to help you..."

  "Don't blame the teacher, Professor," Maverick said lazily, still resting his head on the sofa's back. "He's just as fed up with this ridiculous system as I am."

  He lifted his head again, meeting her gaze. Meanwhile, Flitwick and Dumbledore remained silent, letting the confrontation play out. In other words, whatever questions or objections they had, their colleague was handling them just fine while confronting Maverick.

  "The world is changing… people's mindset, culture, everything. Technology most of all." Maverick paused to make his point sink in. "You cannot deny how fast the Muggle world is advancing, Professor. Sooner or later, we will be discovered. And when it happens all at once, what do you think will follow?"

  "There will be chaos!" Flitwick finally blurted.

  Maverick glanced at him briefly, then returned his gaze to McGonagall. "Eventually, the world will settle, but between chaos and peace, there will, make no mistake, be a lot of blood."

  "Unless, of course," Maverick continued, lowering his tone, "we control how we're exposed."

  "The ICW will never agree…" McGonagall replied matter-of-factly, and with good reason. Many of the council's members were centuries old, and some of those stubborn fools stood at the Archmage level.

  Their thinking was so backward that Maverick didn't even want to bother correcting it. Only something uncontrollable would force a change. In other words, when the exposure became overwhelming in a single moment, they would have no choice but to accept it.

  "I know," Maverick said equally matter-of-factly. "Otherwise, why do you think I'm having this whole drama played out in front of the world?"

  "Do you think allowing that evil, twisted lunatic to resurrect fully is some kind of spectacle?" McGonagall's voice rose sharply with every word. "How do we know that madman will even walk into your trap? And if he does, how can you possibly be certain everything will unfold according to your script? And most importantly, do you understand how many innocent lives you'll be placing at risk if you fail, or if your plan strays even a little?"

  She barraged him with question after question until she looked utterly exhausted, and Maverick made no move to interrupt or take offense, allowing her to vent freely. In truth, he understood.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Ninety percent of her fury toward his plan stemmed from Voldy alone, for during the madman's reign, she had suffered greatly as well, particularly targeted as Dumbledore's lieutenant and having lost many dear to her in his carnage.

  A long silence filled the room as the three adults fixed their gaze on the youngest among them, waiting for his response. In truth, they too would be far happier if the Sacracy Act did not exist. It had been created to safeguard the future of the wizarding world, true, but circumstances back then—and now—were completely different.

  Now, there was already an unspoken agreement between the Muggle world and the magical world to coexist in harmony, and the leaders of the entire Muggle world were fully aware of magic.

  Moreover, during the last world war, the balance of power was clear, established, and understood by both sides. Muggles had their weapons of mass destruction, while magicals had living, breathing weapons of their own. No longer did one side need to fear the other, and this was no longer an age where someone could be burned at the stake simply for being misunderstood.

  Yet still, the magical world's hierarchy insisted on remaining hidden, and so much time had passed that this secrecy had become accepted as the norm by the majority of the wizarding public.

  "If you can answer Minerva's questions satisfactorily, Maverick, then you can count on my help," Dumbledore finally said amid the uncomfortable silence, drawing everyone's attention to him, even Maverick's. He hadn't expected the old wizard to speak so decisively.

  "Albus…" McGonagall began, but Dumbledore raised a hand, turning squarely to Maverick.

  "I'll be honest, I always knew you were up to something big from the very first day Minerva told me about you. However, you have truly exceeded my expectations."

  "What? You want to call me a madman too?" Maverick asked, arching a brow.

  "Not really," Dumbledore replied, ignoring the script entirely. "I'm sure you've read history and know that you aren't the first to attempt breaking the Sacred Secrecy Act. The last one was just as powerful as you, with an army of witches and wizards… and he still failed."

  "I am not—"

  "I know you're not Gellert, Professor Caesar. I just want to remind you of that point."

  "Why exactly? I'm not planning to take over the world, and I'm sure as hell not planning to launch a campaign against Muggles."

  "No… you're not. Your plan," Dumbledore glanced briefly at the others, then back at Maverick, "mad as it sounds, is the first one I believe has a real chance of succeeding."

  "ALBUS!" McGonagall exclaimed.

  "Minerva… let me finish," Dumbledore sighed, continuing. "You've even gone so far as to innovate new technology on the Muggle side, just to ensure your plan to expose magic has a better chance of success. You know, I'm still having a difficult time processing it all... the meticulous steps you've taken."

  He paused, and in the end, fixed Maverick with an expectant gaze.

  "Which is why I say, if you can satisfyingly answer Minerva's earlier questions, I shall not hesitate to bind myself by oath even, in support of your plan."

  Even though Dumbledore had not formally given his agreement, it was clear from his words that as long as Maverick could prove he could execute his plan flawlessly, then Dumbledore was essentially saying that he would aid in breaking, or rather destroying, the one taboo that had governed the entire modern magical age.

  Even Maverick was taken aback by the decisive declaration. Fuck. Is this going to turn into another pyramid scheme? A cold sweat broke out on Maverick's forehead as he thought it over. Usually, when something involving this old wizard went a little too smoothly, Maverick was the one who ended up suffering later.

  "So you simply want to know what gives me confidence that things won't go out of control?" Maverick asked, rubbing the ring on his finger.

  "Precisely. Even with your teacher, the many others you've enlisted, the Ministry, and even the Muggle government assisting behind the scenes as you mentioned, I remain unconvinced that innocent lives won't be affected."

  "It's the bloody center of Great Britain you want as your stage, after all…" Flitwick chimed in from across the table, leaning back with arms crossed.

  Maverick took a moment to consider their questions, and they gave him the time.

  Sighing, he finally made up his mind and raised his head, meeting each of their gazes in turn.

  "What gives me confidence is him," he said, and they looked at him, puzzled.

  "Who?" McGonagall asked.

  Then, all of a sudden, a sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if spoken directly into their hearts.

  "ME!"

  —————————

  "I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this…" With his mind made up, Maverick met the three of their gazes in turn and sighed. "It isn't my place, really, to reveal his existence to you. Though, I was told I could ask for help with anything I want, and revealing his existence in this situation, I believe, counts as help."

  Listening to Maverick speak in such a cryptic manner, the three professors exchanged puzzled looks. Resort to what? Reveal who? Wasn't it simply a matter of telling them who or what had given Maverick the confidence that nothing would go wrong? So why did it sound like he was about to drop a name so profound it might as well be Merlin himself?

  Maverick ignored their baffled expressions and continued injecting his magic in a mysterious rhythm into the ring on his finger, though if he knew what they were thinking, he would have definitely given them a thumbs up.

  Meanwhile, silence stretched between the three veteran professors as they tried to guess who this mysterious person could be. Based on everything they knew about Maverick, they had a handful of possibilities, and to their credit, aside from his closest people and his teacher, they probably understood him best.

  A moment later, McGonagall eventually couldn't hold it in anymore and asked the first name that came to mind.

  "Is it Olympe?" she asked skeptically. After all, it was no secret that Maverick and the woman had some kind of cooperative relationship. But still, that name alone wasn't enough to change her mind, nor Flitwick's or Dumbledore's.

  Their fear of old Voldy was not simply because he was an archmage, but because of his maddening and utterly unscrupulous character.

  So what if Maverick had three archmagi and numerous greatmagi tagging along behind him. That would amount to nothing if they couldn't stop Voldy from arranging other means, like having his dogs run a slaughter while they were trying to keep or capture him.

  Otherwise, Dumbledore would have stopped Voldemort long before he caused carnage across wizarding Britain over a decade ago. Voldemort was like a cockroach, always slipping away or hiding whenever Dumbledore drew near during his rise. He was difficult to catch and even harder to kill completely, like a persistent pest.

  What they wanted, more than anything, was a guaranteed way that once he was resurrected, Maverick could contain him, and that no innocent lives would be dragged into the aftermath of Voldemort's prearranged schemes.

  Maverick shook his head at the mention of the half-giantess, although he did have plans to pull the woman into the blueprint as well. Perhaps during the summer break he would pay her a visit, and go along with his teacher and, if this discussion eventually turned out the way he wanted, Dumbledore as well. With the two of them together, he was ninety percent certain the old woman would also fall in line.

  As he sat in thought, he finally sensed something at the edge of his magical awareness, and the ring on his finger gave the corresponding feedback he was expecting. He smiled. "It's him," he finally said, no longer keeping them in suspense, speaking without really looking in any particular direction.

  "Him who, Professor? Please spare us the riddles... it's the middle of the night for Merlin's sake," McGonagall rolled her eyes, genuinely growing tired of it.

  And just as she finished speaking, before anyone else could voice a word, a voice, seemingly speaking directly to the root of their souls, suddenly reverberated through the room, causing all three of the veterans to crease their brows and, just as quickly, causing their pupils to dilate.

  It was only one syllable: "ME…" they heard, but it carried so much weight that they literally felt the word press against their skin. And that wasn't all, because they suddenly felt their bodies freeze, no longer under the control of their consciousness, as if some unfathomable power had rooted them to their place, like a higher being pressing their aura upon a lower one.

  One must know that McGonagall and Flitwick were veteran great magi, with magical senses honed to such an extraordinary degree that only a mage a full rank higher could sneak up on them, let alone freeze their actions entirely. But that couldn't be true, because Dumbledore looked equally startled, frozen in shock, and he was arguably the most powerful archmage alive.

  There was only one logical explanation for it.

  They all remembered, from their youth, how meeting powerful teachers or other formidable individuals made them feel small—reduced to the point where they couldn't even act on instinct, as if nothing besides their own thoughts was under their control.

  Not only that, they themselves had flexed their magic occasionally as well whenever the situation called throughout their long lives, so they weren't at all foreign to the feeling.

  With just that single syllable, they were left completely at the mercy of the being who spoke it, utterly helpless.

  Of course, Maverick wasn't like them. He knew exactly who it was, and the reason he wasn't affected like Dumbledore and his two other colleagues was simply because he was spared.

  After hearing the expected sound, a sigh first escaped his lips—after all, he wasn't entirely certain the old fossil would show up even if he was told he would. Then the exhale turned into a smile, and he rose to his feet.

  He waved a hand, and ignoring the shocked expressions of his colleagues, the surroundings began to change according to the will of his magic, like a puzzle assembling itself on its own. The mirror dimension rippled, glass-like transparent shards flickering with light, walls, tables, chairs, ceiling—everything moving as if guided by an unseen hand.

  Where once they had sat two by two facing each other across a coffee table, they now sat in a single line in front of a large table, the opposite side empty except for a single, exquisite-looking chair. Everything else had disappeared, leaving a clean space devoid of walls or sky—a perfectly appropriate stage for the arrival of a living legend.

  The transformation took only a second, maybe two, and was over almost as quickly as it began. With that complete, Maverick remained standing, waiting, while glancing sideways at Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick, who were still seated, frozen in shock.

  The corner of his eye twitched. It wasn't his idea at all to put them in that state. Sure enough, he hadn't been wrong to label that old fossil a legitimate farmer. He just hoped that after all this, the three of them wouldn't blame him. This was definitely not his doing, nor did he have the capability, no matter how ridiculously OP he was now, to freeze them with just a word. Sigh.

  Fortunately, the wait wasn't long. Across the table, suddenly in mid-air, orange sparks began to form—a familiar scene—and Maverick couldn't help but raise a brow. Not surprising, after all, the bald auntie Yao had said the old man was a sorcerer as well.

  What made him arch his brows, though, was how clean it was—too clean. The mirror dimension did not so much as ripple, even with someone invading forcefully, which clearly showed that the old man's proficiency in Eldritch meditation must be extremely high by now.

  Subsequently, on the other side, a familiar face appeared—clean, noble, clad in a finely tailored suit, and, of course, wielding a cane—as Merlin Ambrosius stepped through with absolute majesty. Each tap of his boots, each strike of his cane against the floor, sounded like a bell resonating in their hearts—not harsh or unsettling, but gentle with an air of arrogance.

  Mentally, Maverick's eyes lit up with stars. Must take notes. Must take notes. Expert. Definitely an expert farmer.

  As soon as the legendary wizard stepped out and stopped behind the chair, Maverick smiled and made a respectful bow. "Apologies, Mage Supreme, for having disturbed your time." Respect for one's elders had to be shown, especially when that elder was a living legend.

  But just as he raised his head, he saw more familiar sling-ring portals forming behind the old man, catching him momentarily off guard. His first thought was: was the Sorcerer Supreme crashing the party as well? But he quickly brushed it aside when another realization struck him and his eyes widened involuntarily as a result.

  Four people. He had a guess—no, he was fairly certain of their identities. Although Merlin himself had not specifically named them and had only vaguely mentioned having students, it was not difficult to discern who they were. Now, looking at them, especially judging by their attire, he felt even more confident in his earlier guess.

  Meanwhile, the moment Maverick said the word "Supreme," Dumbledore and the other two's pupils, already constricted, nearly disappeared. They did not doubt for a second that Maverick was wrong, because they still couldn't move, and only a being like that could immobilize them so completely—one peak archmage and two great magi.

  And just as those thoughts crossed their minds, they suddenly felt their bodies back under their control, and abruptly, all three of them rose to their feet. Even Dumbledore, usually calm in the most difficult situations, was visibly shaken—literally, his hands trembled at that moment.

  Their little commotion pulled Maverick out of his stupor as well, and he quickly gathered his thoughts. Glancing to his left and right, he spoke, "Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, allow me to introduce you… Supreme Mage, Merlin Ambrosius. And…" He paused, then looked ahead, glancing between the unfamiliar faces who were smirking at him, unsure of what to say.

  To Merlin's left stood a woman clad in a sleek, modern dark dress, a rather large black hat tilted over her head. Next to her was a burly man, majestic as hell, with golden hair flowing like a lion's mane. Maverick's first impression was that he might be one of his teacher's ancestors—the resemblance was unmistakable.

  To Merlin's right was another woman, dressed in an extravagant pink gown, every detail lavish and precise. Beside her stood a stern, lean man in a tailored suit, a fur-lined robe draped over his shoulders.

  Actually, only three of them were smirking at him, while the stern, lean man—looking like a straight-up comic book villain—stared as if Maverick had personally insulted his parents.

  These four people had to be the four founders of Hogwarts: Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and… Salazar Slytherin.

  And sure enough, while he was still at a loss for words on how to introduce them—

  "Little guy, you don't have to be so tense. We are exactly who you think we are." Chuckling, with a hand over her mouth, the woman in the lavish pink dress winked at him.

  Tapp.

  Suddenly, the man in front tapped his majestic cane on the floor, and four more chairs materialized, which they all took and sat in unceremoniously.

  "Sit, children. This meeting has long been overdue," Merlin declared in his deep, bell-like voice, addressing Maverick and his party.

  —————————

  "I've carried many names over the passage of time… Emris, Allanon, Myrddin, a druidic title or two. Though there is one name that has remained constant, which I am sure you children know very well."

  Contrary to what everyone expected, Merlin did not speak with an air of authority or coldness. Even Maverick had not imagined his tone would be so... amiable, especially after that dramatic entrance.

  His voice carried the warmth of a grandfather addressing his grandchildren, and without realizing it, their sense of edge faded the moment he began talking. Whether some subtle magic was involved was something they did not bother to ponder, and simply listened without interrupting.

  "Those who know the truth of my existence call me Merlin Ambrosius, and yes, children, I am exactly the figure you think I am. Though I prefer that you simply address me as the Supreme Mage, just as my students here do."

  Having introduced himself, the old wizard fixed his gaze on Maverick and smiled. "You, child, have been rather busy, I see. Normally, I do not reveal my existence to just anyone, but this is indeed a special case." His eyes then drifted across the table, stopping on each person from left to right. Flitwick, McGonagall, then Maverick, and finally Dumbledore.

  "A child from the lineage of the phoenix contractors. As expected of his descendant. Only a century old and already on the verge of shedding mortal flesh to reach the demigod realm." An approving smile touched his lips as he continued. "Your talent is no less than my students here. Perhaps even greater, since they only reached the rank of warlock two centuries into their lives."

  "M-my lord, I…" Dumbledore swallowed a dry mouthful. His hands were still trembling slightly under the table despite the strange calmness that had settled after Merlin began speaking. After all, the most renowned legend the magical world had ever known was sitting only a few feet away, and the figures beside him were no less overwhelming.

  The headmaster of Hogwarts needed only a single glance to guess who they were, because the lion, badger, raven, and serpent on their chests were far too deliberate to be coincidence. Not to mention, the moment he looked at them, his magical sense had practically screamed in alarm, as their aura felt countless times more dense than his own even with how tightly restrained it seemed.

  "You need not feel intimidated," Merlin said with a slight nod. "And as I mentioned earlier, I prefer to be addressed as the Supreme Mage. Lord and all that… perhaps I once held the title, but it no longer means anything to me."

  Without pausing, he turned his gaze back to Maverick. "Let us first discuss why you have summoned me, child, and after that we shall have plenty of time to become acquainted."

  Seeing the look, Maverick realized it was his cue to speak, so he cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts. But then he remembered he had not told Merlin anything about his plan yet.

  Do I have to start from the beginning? Fortunately, just as the thought crossed his mind, Merlin spared him the trouble, almost as if he had read his mind.

  "I am well aware, child, that you intend to expose magic to the wider human world. Therefore, I need only know the role I play in it."

  Is this old fossil keeping tabs on me? Maverick thought nervously, especially seeing that seemingly knowing smile directed at him. Whatever—at least he wasn't going to act against my plans.

  He cleared his throat again and began. "Yes, I intend to completely dismantle the Statute of Secrecy and expose our world to the non-magicals…" He spoke quickly, trying to get everything out in one breath, and just as Merlin had requested, he skipped all the details and focused only on the role he wanted Merlin to play.

  "At the climax of my plan, an archmage?level duel will take place over the great city of London. It will be controlled, of course, and my people will be stationed everywhere on both the Muggle and magical sides. Some will act as countermeasures to prevent innocent lives from being harmed, while others will focus on spreading the news."

  "Using both Muggle and magical technology, I will ensure the entire world has its eyes on it in the shortest possible time, to the point where it becomes impossible for the ICW to contain the news. Once that goal is achieved, I will bring the duel to an end. Of course, to the outside world, it will appear as if I had no choice but to intervene, and by the end of it, the entire world will know of the existence of the magicals."

  "Basically, I ask for your help, Supreme Mage, as a final safeguard to guarantee that no innocents are harmed during the act. Apart from the archmage, which I will be" — he paused and gestured with his hands as if making quotation marks — "trying my best to stop, there may be great magi on the enemy side as well. Of course, I have confidence that my people can handle it, but my colleagues here want a little more assurance, which is why I summoned you."

  With that, Maverick finished, and the table sank into silence as everyone awaited Merlin's response. The old wizard hummed thoughtfully and, after a moment, gave a small nod. "Not the brightest of plans," he murmured, "but if everything unfolds as you envision, then this long standing rule will no longer need to exist." He let out a quiet, almost weary sigh.

  "And I agree with you on this matter, child. There was a time when keeping our world hidden was necessary, but that time has passed. Our world has evolved beyond that, and it is about time we lift the curtain." As he spoke, his gaze swept over the three seated beside Maverick, lingering briefly on Dumbledore.

  "You have my word. I, along with my students, shall act on that day and ensure that no innocent lives are harmed." He turned back to Maverick. "So go ahead with your vision. Take the necessary step that our magical world has long needed to take."

  At his words, Maverick felt a weight lift from his chest. He exhaled without thinking and allowed himself a small, relieved smile. He turned first to his left, toward Dumbledore, whose tired sigh met his gaze, and in that look, Maverick knew the decision had been made.

  "Headmaster…" Maverick murmured, and Dumbledore nodded in response.

  "I am convinced. Worry not. With the Supreme Mage overseeing matters unseen, I am certain everything will align as you have envisioned."

  He nodded in response, then glanced to his right, where the two professors also nodded. "I shall always stand by Albus' decision, Maverick. You can count on my support."

  "And mine," Flitwick chimed in. "Truthfully, I too am weary of hiding ourselves from everyone… and I look forward to stepping into that tomorrow, where the veil is lifted."

  "Thank you. Honestly, you have no idea how much your support means to me." Maverick's words were not just for show, and he was truly sincere. By now, he had truly grown attached to them, seeing them as genuine companions.

  Maverick's nature had always been like this, which is why he had chosen a path that compelled him to form bonds and interact with many people. Even his subordinates, well, at least those he trusts, he regarded as genuine companions. If he had wished, with the help of the system, he could, of course, have grown stronger than anyone over time, quietly, behind closed doors.

  In both his previous life and even more in the present, he had always been naturally inclined toward extroversion. After all, what was the point of becoming all-powerful if there was no one to share that glory with? For that reason, even more than Merlin, he cherished Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick's support, for the bond he shared with them was precious.

  Setting those thoughts aside for the moment, he turned back to the ancient wizard and offered a sincere, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Supreme Mage. I shall not forget this favor."

  "There is no need to call it a favor," Merlin said, shaking his head. "It is for the betterment of the magical world in the end, which you, I, and all of us share." He smiled, then briefly glanced to his left and right. "Now, with that out of the way, let us become better acquainted. Introduce yourselves, my students, to your juniors."

  "Rowena." From the far left, the woman who appeared to be in her late twenties spoke first. Her face was flawless, and her hair shone black as midnight. Her eyes settled on the half-man with an approving glance. "Together with my friends here, I helped found this great castle. And you, young man, I understand today you represent the house named after me."

  "It is an honor, Madam Ravenclaw." Flitwick's eyes visibly sparkled as he bowed courteously. "I always had a feeling that your disappearance from history was no simple matter. I suppose I was right. In any case, meeting you in person has long been a dream of mine, and I hope I have not disappointed in guiding the students sorted into the great house of Ravenclaw."

  "I am Godric." The broad-shouldered man, looking every bit a warrior rather than a mage, spoke next. He scanned the four people before him with a practiced eye and finally fixed his gaze on McGonagall. "You, girl, have my approval. A remarkable talent representing the house named after me."

  Meanwhile, Maverick caught, from the corner of his eye, McGonagall's face turning crimson at the remark. Merlin… uh… the old man is here. Anyway, did the stern lady actually blush?

  "You remind me of Rowena when she was young," Godric Gryffindor continued, rubbing his chin and finishing with a wide grin.

  As soon as he finished, a soft, almost ethereal chuckle came from the other side as the woman in the lavish pink gown smiled. Honestly, Helga Hufflepuff was nothing like Maverick had envisioned, and certainly not with that striking look. A stunning face, a body with the right curves in the right places, she was nothing like the plump woman most history books depicted.

  "Indeed, an accurate remark. Rowena also had a face as stern as yours when she was young…"

  On the other side, the founder of the Ravenclaw house rolled her eyes almost to the edge and cast her a sharp glance. That, in turn, made the lady in pink giggle even more.

  "Right, right, my turn." She waved her hand. "I am Helga Hufflepuff. Unfortunately, the young lady representing my house was not invited to this meeting, so I cannot make any remarks about her." She cast Maverick a provocative smirk. "Therefore, young man, I shall settle with you."

  The hell? What did I do? And is this not simply about introducing you old things to us? Of course, Maverick did not say any of that aloud and only shrugged at the woman giving him that look. "If you want, I can bring her here, Lady Hufflepuff."

  "Ahaha. You hear that, Salazar? He called me a lady."

  A quiet sigh followed her remark before the last person in the room who had yet to speak finally did. "Do try to mind your manners, Helga. They are your juniors, after all."

  It was the man who had worn a stern expression through the brief exchange so far, polished like a literal mafia boss. Yet he sounded nothing like what Maverick or his colleagues expected. For one thing, his voice was far too soft, almost like the introverted sibling of the family. Even more surprising, he sounded much too young for someone who was supposedly a millennium old.

  "I am Salazar Slytherin," he continued, and as he spoke, his gaze locked onto Maverick, his expression cooling inexplicably for some unknown reason.

  Maverick: …

  "You, boy, have an apology to make."

  The hell? When did I insult this guy's parents? Maverick scrambled through his memory, trying to figure out what it could possibly be, and not long after, something did come to his mind. He remembered that back in the Chamber of Secrets, he might have, maybe, probably, and quite unintentionally, called a statue that was supposedly modeled after Slytherin an... ugly monkey.

  Uh… he swallowed. Surely it wasn't about that, right? Was there some magical CCTV or something… or… he thought of something else. Did that old snake snitch?

  —————————

  The scorching sun shone brightly over Hogwarts, bathing the fortress in a majestic radiance. Time had a way of slipping by unnoticed when one became too wrapped up in something, and before long, the hours had vanished without anyone realizing it.

  The meeting had started late into the night, but in what seemed like a single breath, morning slipped away and midday had already arrived. There was far too much to discuss and nowhere near enough time. After all, the legends did not arrive as a timely visit, they had simply dropped by in response to a summon.

  In any case, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick made full use of that golden opportunity, allowing their curiosities to run completely wild.

  Much of the conversation revolved around magic, naturally. Even though they were educators themselves, their modest reservoir of knowledge could not compare to living, breathing libraries who had walked the world for millennia.

  Eventually, the talks then drifted toward history, speaking about the magical world of that ancient era, the early days of Hogwarts during its founding, and, more importantly, the reason the four founders had suddenly vanished from recorded history.

  Maverick, too, was curious about the matter, and during the talks he did not simply sit and listen. He would occasionally chime in as well, however, when he finally heard the reason for the four legends' abrupt disappearance straight from their own mouths, it struck him as rather anticlimactic.

  It turned out that they had simply grown too powerful for the average world. In other words, after crossing the threshold from archmage to warlock, they had left behind the constraints of mortality, essentially reaching the next level, which was a demigod or at least something close to such a being.

  Naturally, that would mean the supreme rank, which followed the warlock realm, reached the domain of gods, and Merlin himself admitted as much, well, sort of, in a roundabout way. Without elaborating, he casually remarked that a supreme-rank mage possessed enough power to quite literally reshape an entire planet, whether through creation or annihilation. If that did not count as cosmic level, then what would?

  Merlin also simplified how the universe classified extraordinary beings into different tiers, similar to how mages had their own ranks. Basically, archmagi were the pinnacle of mortal capabilities, warlock was a demigod, and the supreme rank aligned with beings who were revered as gods.

  There were also higher levels, quite a bit according to him, but for no other reason than the fact that such knowledge was unnecessary for the four people at this point, he did not elaborate any further.

  But with all that revelation, a single shared thought rose in everyone's mind except Maverick's. Why, with all that power, did Merlin and the four founders allow the magical world to grow so decadent over the centuries?

  Couldn't they have ended the discrimination or the conflict, call it whatever, between the small magical population and the vast muggle masses, if not through negotiation then through firm coercion, so magicals did not have to hide like cornered rats?

  Of course, they also understood there would be resistance, and rightly so, but what of it? What could opposition, no matter how massive the numbers, amount to in the face of absolute power? Time was the best healer, and even if the early years had been turbulent, wouldn't the world have grown accustomed to magicals by now if action had been taken a millennium ago?

  It was a logical question, and neither the ancient wizard nor his students took offense at it. Yet the answer Merlin gave once again left the three mages baffled about the world they thought they knew. It turned out that the Earth hid far, far more than they had ever been led to believe.

  In Merlin's narration, he was not the only supreme-level being on this planet, and certainly not the most powerful. The Sorcerer Supreme was one, and the ancient wizard gave a few more examples—beings who were quite literally immortal and wielded god-level powers.

  It intrigued Maverick as well, and he recognized a few familiar names from the ancient wizard, like the Yoruba gods of Wakanda and the Eternals—yes, apparently Merlin knew about them too. There were also some he was not familiar with, such as beings named Chernobog and Gaea, and gods who did not exactly reside on Earth but had avatars here, like the deities of Celestial Heliopolis—in other words, the Egyptian gods, the Ennead.

  Maverick wasn't surprised, nonetheless. After all, he had knowledge from beyond the fourth wall and knew that Marvel's lore ran as deep as a black hole, not to mention, this universe was a total clusterfuck of who-knows-what other universes.

  So basically, the reason Merlin and his students did not intervene or try to resolve matters between muggles and magicals was simple: if they were to coerce the majority of Earth's sentient population, it would cross a major line, conflicting not with just one, but with many god-level and demigod-level beings residing on the planet.

  They might not mind even if Merlin played monarch among the magical populace, but going beyond that would be inviting catastrophic-level trouble.

  As for the reason behind their disappearance from history, it was essentially simple: for lack of a better word, they let the natural order play out, hoping that one day everything would resolve itself without crossing the red lines of other powerful beings. And so, they distanced themselves from the "ordinary" world, waiting quietly, becoming ghosts lost to the annals of history until that day arrived.

  Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick kept nodding as if they understood, but Maverick, of course, called it nonsense internally. He still remembered Merlin mentioning some kind of prophecy and knew there was more to their disappearance than that. Still, he did not raise the matter—it was not his place to question—and nodded along as if he believed it too. Besides, the last thing he wanted to discuss was some bullshit prophecy.

  On top of responding to the flood of inquiries, the four founders didn't hold back in their explanations, revealing a wealth of knowledge. One key topic they covered was the warlock rank, particularly how it stood apart from the archmage rank below it.

  They explained that a warlock's lifespan, or more accurately their genetic life level, increases exponentially compared to an archmage. By this measure, they could stand alongside Asgardians—well, at least a typical Asgardian soldier—in terms of physical capability alone, and essentially surpass them, since a mage's abilities extended far beyond mere physical strength.

  A warlock's control over magic, in their experience, basically became instinctual. Casting spells without wands was apparently as effortless as drinking water. However, they did point out that wands still made a noticeable difference, especially when conjuring particularly complex spells.

  Naturally, their reservoir of magical energy also received an exponential boost. In other words, it would take a very long time for a mage of warlock rank to exhaust themselves of mana.

  Out of the many revelations, one in particular caught the four juniors off guard, and yes, it surprised Maverick too. Apparently, when a mage reached the warlock realm, they awakened an ability that existed outside the traditional system of magic, something the founders referred to as nature affinity.

  Fire, water, air, and earth. They explained that stepping into the warlock realm granted mastery over one of these elements, and they stressed that this ability worked without magic, which meant it stood as a power all on its own.

  Even if a situation arose where magic could not be used, the power of nature could still be wielded. Out of the four warlocks, two awakened fire—Gryffindor and Slytherin—while Ravenclaw awakened wind and Hufflepuff awakened water. For some reason, the power of earth did not appear among them.

  While the four founders continued speaking, Maverick kept his face carefully neutral. Inside, however, his mind spun with confusion. He already knew about elemental affinities, or, as his system phrased it, nature energy manipulation.

  The thing was, he did not control just one element but every single one of them, which was precisely why their explanation threw him for a loop. So basically, he mused, that made him some cheap knockoff of an Avatar.

  No, that's not right. If anything, he was anything but cheap. With his current arsenal of endless abilities, he could, or should, probably, solo the entire Avatar universe, right?

  Anyway, from there, the conversation eased into another topic, focusing on the stories and legends surrounding the founders' names and then expanding into the lore woven throughout the world.

  In the end, the one who benefited the most from the gathering was undoubtedly the headmaster. Merlin had pointed out earlier that Dumbledore stood only a single step away from ascending to warlock rank, and throughout the meeting he gained valuable insight from the four Founders, particularly their experiences when they broke through that same boundary.

  Merlin added his own explanations as well, and truthfully, half the gathering felt like a lecture, with one side asking endless questions and the other patiently clearing their doubts.

  Finally, the meeting drew to a close when Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick appeared to have run out of things to discuss. Or at least, that was how it seemed. Without a doubt, they still had a mountain of questions they wanted to ask, but they knew better than to push their luck and risk coming across as rude, even though the four founders and Merlin had shown no signs of impatience the entire time.

  After all, the entire meeting had begun because Maverick wanted to flex his backing, and his point had been addressed shortly after the discussion started. From there, more than half a day had passed with everyone sitting and simply talking, talking, and more talking.

  Making a poor first impression was the last thing they wanted. These were the four founders of Hogwarts, after all, the very architects of their school, and Merlin was, well, Merlin.

  Still, the headmaster respectfully offered to have lunch prepared for them before they left, but the offer was declined with equal courtesy. Soon after, the legends departed from the school, leaving behind only a promise that they could be summoned whenever the need arose.

  Of course, it went without saying that this did not apply to casual conversations, and the real meaning was clear to everyone present. They could summon the founders only during situations that had slipped beyond their control.

  This, of course, did not include Maverick, and he had a feeling he would be facing the old fossils sooner rather than later. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick might not know, but Maverick was certain that Merlin was well aware of his "side project," because for some reason, it aligned with the prophecy the old wizard had told him long ago.

  Anyway, he would deal with it when the time came. For now, his focus was on the present, finishing the year and getting the exams ready.

  ---

  "I suppose there's no need to say that what happened earlier today stays between the four of us, right?"

  After the founders and Merlin himself departed, Maverick, McGonagall, and Flitwick followed Dumbledore to his office, as the old man had suggested, for a cup of afternoon tea.

  Setting down his cup, McGonagall gave a sharp, brilliant smile and huffed softly through her nose. "I am very much restraining myself from calling you 'boy,' Professor Caesar. Who do you think we are?"

  "You, Professor, is the head of the house where mouths outrun brains faster than owls can fly..."

  "Hahaha..." Flitwick laughed out loud. Clearly, his mood was jolly at the moment, but he swallowed the rest of the laughter bubbling in his gut when he saw the stern lady glare sharply back at him.

  "Thats right, professors Caesar. Shame on you to think we would go announcing we had the fortune to meet the biggest legends in the history of the magical world." He said firmly, although, his expression showed otherwise.

  "All jesting aside, Professor Caesar is not entirely wrong in bringing it up," Dumbledore chimed in, a gleaming, mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes, and a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

  "We would do well to keep it to ourselves. On the brighter side, we can quietly savor the pleasure of knowing we have been party to such a remarkably fortuitous encounter, as we are doing now. Perhaps gather for tea every weekend?"

  "Uh... I'd rather not," Maverick rolled his eyes. Then his expression hardened. "On a serious note, Headmaster, professors, I take it now, we're all on the same page regarding my arrangements for next year?"

  Noticing his serious expression, the others also fell into a similar mood. A quiet pause hung over the Headmaster's office before Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and, after a moment, asked, "Then, I suppose, following the plan you detailed, the next course of action is retrieving the Hufflepuff artifact from Gringotts?"

  Maverick nodded and glanced at the others to gauge their reactions, only to find Flitwick giving him a curious, strange look.

  "Yes, Professor?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  The half-man hummed thoughtfully before replying, "you didn't think to ask Lady Hufflepuff herself whether she could summon it? After all, it is her house's heirloom."

  Maverick: …

  "I..."

  "No," McGonagall interjected. "Best to stick with your original plan, Professor Caesar. With your abilities, I'm sure it won't be difficult to… take a little stroll through that place."

  Maverick nodded, conceding the point. Yes, best not involve the founders in this matter, and besides, it really wouldn't be difficult for him, just as McGonagall had said, to take a stroll there without anyone noticing.

  Leaning back, he couldn't help but shot McGonagall a teasing glance. "Of all the things I thought I'd see in my life… never did I imagine Professor Minerva McGonagall endorsing a bank heist."

  BAM!

  —————————

  Author's Note:

  I know that's a lot of lore dumped in there. And no, I didn't just pull all of that out of my ass, I actually put a lot of thought and pondering into it. Some of you might love it, some might not, and that's perfectly fine.

  Either way, I'd really appreciate your feedback.

  Thank you, as always, for your continued support!

  You can find this story on Webnovel, Fanfiction, and ScribbleHub, all under the same author name: RyanFic. Updates drop first on Webnovel!