To most, the month of May also passed quietly, and the 1993–1994 academic year drew to a close under soft warmth and gentle skies.

  The exam weeks, too, came and went, humming with their familiar energy. Students in a rush with parchments clutched and quills tucked behind ears murmuring spells or checking notes one last time while teachers walk the corridors, offering reminders or sharp glances to keep the castle in quiet, careful order.

  That said, after everything settled, the atmosphere changed completely, separating the school into two groups. There were those who hesitated, second-guessing and waiting quietly for their results, and then there were the few, bold enough to embrace the moment, who had already started arranging their holiday plans.

  Today, an even gentler warmth filled the skies above Hogwarts, accompanied by a mild breeze that drifted along the ancient walls with perfect ease. It was the final day, with the practicals completed and the last written exam for the final batch of subjects having finished only moments earlier. Students poured out of the exam rooms in a rush of every expression imaginable, and one trio in particular stood out above the rest.

  "Dad said he already got tickets for all of us from the first-class platform. Can you believe it… first class!"

  Ron had already forgotten he had even left an exam room, acting as if the results would never arrive. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, looked as though her entire life were flashing before her eyes, while Harry rested between the two extremes, appearing calm and confident. In spite of that contrast, the three still moved in perfect sync through the sea of students and stopped beneath the shade of a tree, where they settled on an empty bench.

  "Sirius told me he also has a surprise waiting for me… hmm… I bet it has something to do with the World Cup finals." Harry shrugged nonchalantly, thinking for a moment, then pulled three cold soda cans from his storage ring, the metal hissing lightly in the sun, and passed them to his friends.

  Hermione absentmindedly took hers, opened it with a click, and without a word, gulped down half the can. She exhaled as if a massive burden had lifted from her shoulders, and clarity returned to her eyes. She glanced sideways, although her eyes were already halfway rolled.

  "I am genuinely baffled that neither of you seems worried about the results. Especially you," she said, glaring at the redhead beside her. "Is Quidditch all that goes on in your head?"

  Her permanent stance, however, did not faze Weasley this time. "What are you on about now?" He didn't hold back and even mirrored her by rolling his eyes. "Is wracking your brain over the exams now going to change anything?"

  Hearing his best buddy's comment, Harry couldn't help but chuckle aloud. "What?" he asked, looking at Hermione, who was now giving him a pointed glare. "He's got a point, you know…"

  Miss Know-It-All gave a final huff and leaned back as the odds were two against one. Anyway, it wasn't a serious quarrel and was only another everyday episode for the trio.

  And just then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure walking with a few witches and before she knew it, her hand was already up waving.

  "Jean…"

  The girl in question turned at the call of her name, confusion melting into delight when she saw who it was. She murmured something to the people beside her, slipped out from their circle, and made her way toward them at a quick pace.

  "Hermione… Harry and…"

  "If it isn't my long-lost sister…" Ron pulled a teasing face and shuffled to the side to make room for her.

  Jean rolled her eyes and dropped into the spot between them, snatching the cold soda can from Hermione's hand. "Don't even start." She took a slow slurp, sighed, and grumbled, "It's annoying enough that half the castle keeps calling me Jean Weasley."

  Without mercy, the trio laughed at her misery, and the redhead's eye twitched as if it had a life of its own.

  "Alright, stop teasing her," Hermione said, though she was giggling just as badly as the other two. "I've been meaning to ask… how did all of that even start?"

  "It's that fat snake from the Ivory family," Jean replied, flicking her hair back as if the memory itself was beneath her. "Guess she was jealous I was better than anyone in my grade but had nothing to use against me, so she called me a Weasley bastard."

  Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. "She actually called you a bastard?"

  Jean wiggled her fingers dismissively. "Anyway. I showed the snakes what it means to be a protégé. Hung the morons upside down in some forgotten corridor before they were eventually found by someone."

  Hermione gasped again, louder this time, leaning in as if she had just witnessed a crime. "You… so it was you… Merlin, the whole school was searching for the culprit. How did you not get caught?"

  "Forget that. Jean, I'm your biggest fan from now on." Harry laughed so hard he slapped his knee.

  "Exactly," Ron added, cackling with delight. "Why didn't I think of that? It's way better than hexing a tongue-lock or making those stupid snakes vomit frogs."

  Ron wasn't boasting at all. Unlike in the original story where dumb luck usually dragged him out of trouble, he now had the capital to back up most of his claims after grinding through Maverick's training plan for three years.

  "Stop it," Hermione exclaimed, pointing accusingly at them with the seriousness of someone twice her age. "What if she gets caught? Do not encourage her to be like you two…"

  Harry leaned forward with a dramatic bow. "So how did you avoid getting caught? Teach us, Master Yoda."

  Jean pressed her palms together with sudden sage-like calm. "Ah… young padawan. Simple, it is. Caught, I would be, or humiliated, they would be by a little witch. Which do you think they'd choose?"

  Ron copied Harry's bow. "I see. I see. Wise you are, master."

  Jean let out a small laugh, ending the drama. "Alright, I've got to ask… how do you wizards even know about Star Wars?"

  "Professor Caeser showed all the movies in Muggle Science," Hermione replied, rubbing her chin. "He claimed it was compulsory cultural knowledge… for science… whatever that actually means."

  "Isn't Muggle Science only from sixth year?" Jean raised a brow.

  "It is. But students from all grades join whenever something interesting comes up. Even some professors join in. The whole classroom ends up packed…"

  "Ah… I always figured it was just boring basic science. Didn't know it could actually be interesting." Jean grinned, eyes shining. "Next year, I'm totally going to check it out."

  "Speaking of next year," Hermione said, nudging her gently with an elbow, "anything fun planned for the summer?"

  Jean tapped her chin, thinking. "Not really. Probably traveling."

  "Same here," Hermione sighed, looking genuinely let down.

  From Ron's side of the bench came a hopeful spark. "How about watching the World Cup finals with us then?" He leaned in like someone offering a rare treasure.

  "Watch Quidditch for who knows how long? I'll pass…" Jean replied immediately, decisive enough to make Ron wince.

  Harry lifted a finger. "It's not just Quidditch. It's the World Cup finals. There'll be fireworks and loads of fun activities too."

  "Yeah. And it's practically a camping trip," Ron added quickly. "We never know how long the match is gonna last. I heard this year's entertainment section is supposed to be something special."

  The girls paused, exchanging a look. Put like that, it really did sound tempting.

  Jean sighed. "Even if I want to go, who's going to take me there?"

  "Can't you ask Professor Caeser?" Hermione offered.

  Jean gave her a look. "Professor Caeser is not my nanny, Hermione. He's already doing a lot for me, considering I live on another continent. Knowing him, I'm sure his summer is completely packed."

  Harry lifted his head, thinking aloud. "I could go with Sirius to pick you up from America…"

  Jean's eyes brightened instantly. "Ooh, is it that handsome criminal uncle from the news back then?"

  Harry's eye twitched as he stared at her. "I don't know about handsome, but he was indeed a criminal once. Wrongfully convicted though."

  Hermione nodded firmly, chiming in. "Jean's not wrong," she added, jabbing the redhead playfully before glancing at Harry. "Your godfather is practically the number one bachelor in all of wizarding Britain… maybe even the whole wizarding world."

  "Right?" Jean grinned at Hermione, then leaned toward Harry, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So… is he picking you up at the train station?"

  Harry winced. "About that…" He scratched the back of his head as he suddenly remembered something. "I've been meaning to tell you… I won't be joining the train back home. I have to stay for a few more days."

  At his words, the entire group turned to him with synchronized suspicion—even Ron. They were well aware that much of their training under Maverick happened because of Harry, and that Harry, unlike them, also received some private tutoring.

  Well, "private tutoring" was mostly their suspicion, since every now and then, after practice, Maverick would keep Harry behind and dismiss them. What else could it be for?

  "Is Professor Caeser keeping you behind for extra special training or something?" Ron asked, speaking the question on everyone's mind.

  "No, no." Harry waved both hands quickly. "It's not Professor Caeser. Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to stay… though Professor Caeser was there as well. Apparently, it's something about my parents and…" He lowered his voice, eyes flicking around. "Well… Voldemort."

  "You-Know-Who?" Ron yelped.

  "Shhh! Ronald!" Hermione hissed, almost smacking him.

  "Yes… You-Know-Who. So, I'm sorry, guys. I can't join you on the train…"

  "That's alright, Harry," Hermione said gently. She understood that he would share everything when he was ready. Especially anything involving his parents, it was Harry's private matter and it was only right to respect that.

  Trying to steer them away from the awkward topic, Harry brightened again, glancing in Jean's direction. "Once I'm home, I'll ask Sirius to go pick you up from America. I'll call first, of course."

  "Pick me up too," Hermione added. "If Jean is going, I'll join as well. I'll tell my mum and dad… maybe they'll even come along."

  "Brilliant. It's settled then. We're all going to the finals." Ron looked as if someone had delivered his life's wish on a silver platter. To him, Quidditch was the highest priority, and sharing it with his best friends was simply perfect.

  ---

  Time slipped by before any of them noticed. Two days later, the results were announced and, as expected, the school erupted into a wild assortment of emotions. Another two days later, the OWL and NEWT results were released as well, officially closing the academic year.

  As always, the year-end feast was held in grand style. The House Cup, surprisingly, went to Gryffindor, with Slytherin, last year's winners, coming second, followed by Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. This year, though, the scores were closer than usual, with no more than twenty points separating them.

  The headmaster ended his speech in an unusual way, leaving everyone buzzing with curiosity when he hinted that next year would bring a major surprise.

  Finally, on Thursday of the third week of June, the Hogwarts Express departed from Hogsmeade Station, ferrying students home and leaving the castle wrapped in a rare, peaceful quiet after months of bustling activity.

  Yet not every student was on the train. As it disappeared from view, Harry, the only one left behind, followed his alchemy Professor up the spiral staircase to the headmaster's office for the appointment they had arranged a couple of weeks ago.

  —————————

  "Sirius? Since when did you arrive?"

  When Harry stepped into the old headmaster's office, his eyes immediately found the black-haired figure sitting opposite Dumbledore, and he recognized him in an instant even from behind.

  The man in question turned, a brilliant smile lighting his face as he stood up just as Harry rushed forward and threw his arms around him.

  "I've actually been here since yesterday. How are you holding up, kiddo?"

  Ruffling the boy's hair, Sirius gestured for Harry to sit on his right, and from behind, Maverick walked over and took the seat on Sirius's other side.

  "Brilliant. School's over and I can't wait for the holidays. What do you mean you've been here since yesterday? How come I never saw you?"

  In his excitement at seeing his godfather, Harry fired off a rapid stream of questions, completely forgetting where he was or that other people were in the room as well.

  Then a quiet cough sounded, and Dumbledore cleared his throat to gently remind him he had company.

  "I arranged for Mr Black to come early, Harry. There were matters he needed to understand beforehand, since he now holds the role of your magical guardian."

  "Ah. Apologies, Headmaster."

  Harry finally realized he might have gotten a bit carried away. He scratched the back of his head, thinking for a moment, then asked, "Is this related to what you wanted to talk to me about… about Voldemort?"

  "Yes… Headmaster Dumbledore and your professor have already explained everything," Sirius said before Dumbledore could respond. "They've told me about your… particular situation." Looking at Harry, his face took on a grave seriousness, making it clear this was no simple matter.

  Seeing the change, Harry also mirrored his godfather's expression, then turned his gaze to the older man across from him.

  "I still have no idea what this is all about," he said, "but anything involving Voldemort is never going to be good. Still… I'm ready, Headmaster. Please, explain what this important matter is."

  Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval at Harry's quick composure. That amateur little boy has grown remarkably, he thought, muttering, "Good," before turning to Maverick. "Professor Caesar, perhaps you could explain everything in a way he might better understand… if you would?"

  Maverick let out a small eye-roll at being dumped the task, but he said nothing. Better this way. The old man can't string two phrases together without sounding cryptic anyway.

  He, on the other hand, resolved to be clear and honest with the kid, steering away from the original story's outcome, where Harry stayed in the dark until the final moment and even Snape remarked that he had been raised like a pig for slaughter.

  Once all eyes turned to him, he started explaining everything...

  It was much the same as what he and Dumbledore had told Sirius. Sirius had been brought in early to keep him from losing his temper in front of Harry. And it had been the right decision, because the night before, once everything was explained to the former fugitive, he had let loose some truly impressive language.

  Couldn't really blame him. After all, having something like a soul fragment, the very madman who had killed his best friends, parasitizing his beloved godson was not something he could simply accept. Of course, he wasn't angry at the latter two for keeping it; his frustration came from feeling helpless and from the worry that weighed on his heart for Harry.

  His temper only intensified when he realized the extreme danger Harry had had to face. Maverick and Dumbledore had explained everything, at least as much as they understood about Harry's complicated situation.

  The Horcrux inside Harry was a fragment of Voldemort's soul, and its destruction was inherently tied to Harry's life. The thought that his godson might have had to confront Voldemort directly, and that the process could kill him, left Sirius seething. It was risky in every imaginable way, and honestly, a huge if as to whether it would even work. Eventually, though, when he learned that an alternative solution had been found, he finally calmed down.

  "First of all," Maverick began, "understand this, Harry. You are just a boy. Even if you had known certain things, there was nothing you could do except worry needlessly, and that would have affected your everyday life. That is why…" He paused, glancing at Dumbledore. "That is why Headmaster Dumbledore kept this from you."

  Surprisingly, Harry didn't interrupt. He simply listened, though the confusion on his face made it clear he was struggling to piece things together. Maverick made sure not to linger unnecessarily.

  "It all started when you were born, more precisely, on the day Voldemort supposedly died."

  For the first time in his life, Harry Potter learned the truth—the whole truth. About the prophecy that had driven the madman to kill his parents, the way that event had shaped Voldemort's eventual downfall, and, most importantly, the complex circumstances Harry himself now faced…

  Maverick spared no detail. He told Harry about the Horcruxes, their connection to him, and, above all, the Horcrux that he himself had unwittingly become.

  He went on to explain how Dumbledore had spent years searching for a way to remove the parasite from Harry, how the Headmaster had even risked his own life in the process, and, of course, the initial, incredibly risky solution that had been considered for Harry to rid himself of the curse.

  Needless to say, realizing he carried a piece of Voldemort inside him—the very monster who had killed his parents—terrified Harry to his core. Not because he feared Riddle, but because having a fragment of Voldemort's soul within him could endanger his friends at any moment. Perhaps it was the Gryffindor in him, but the boy had shown no cowardice when he first learned that the original solution required confronting Voldemort directly.

  Still, he was visibly relieved to hear that a foolproof method had finally been discovered to free him from the curse, and that it could be carried out immediately.

  "…Of course, there are still a lot of uncertainties, and I'm honestly struggling to wrap my head around all the details myself," Maverick continued. "But yes, ultimately, that was the idea. You duel him, he kills you… and somehow, you survive while he doesn't. Mother magic works in mysterious ways. I'm no expert in that area, Headmaster's far more knowledgeable than I am."

  "I shall gladly offer you my personal library on soul magic, Professor, should you wish to delve into that field," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

  "I'll pass on that, Headmaster. Besides, there's no need to worry about it anymore," Maverick replied.

  "What about after?" Harry asked suddenly. "After the Horcrux inside me is destroyed… he'll still be alive, right? Will he come back to life in a new body?"

  "That part's actually simple," Maverick said. "In fact, we want him to regain a physical body. Killing a fully-formed Tom Riddle is easy for us… it's his cockroach-like wraith form that makes everything complicated. Remember your first year, Professor Quirrell? That was Voldemort's wraith parasitizing his body. Back then, I tried to destroy it, but it slipped away. A wraith is extremely difficult to deal with because it's intangible, incredibly fast, and can escape almost at will. That's why we're letting him revive properly, as it's far easier to destroy him physically than to deal with a wraith."

  Well, that part was only half true. Now that he had access to Sorcery, Maverick had countless ways to obliterate Voldemort's wraith, but there was no reason for them to know any of that, nor was it important anymore. After all, Voldemort's revival now served a far greater purpose for Maverick.

  Which brings to the next complicated matter Maverick had to explain to Harry: Voldemort's resurrection. When Maverick had first told Sirius about it, needless to say, the man had been royally furious and rejected the idea outright.

  However, after hours of negotiation with Dumbledore vouching for the plan and Maverick detailing the countless precautions to keep Harry safe, Sirius finally, reluctantly, agreed.

  In truth, Maverick really didn't want to involve Harry in the plan. But without the kid, blood of Voldemort's greatest enemy, the scheme wouldn't even get off the ground next year. The next step, then, was to explain everything to Harry.

  Yes, even though he was still a child, there was no other choice but to fill him in on everything. After all, from the beginning, Harry had been a core part of the plan, and Maverick would rather keep him informed than manipulate him in the dark.

  Besides, having personally been his mentor for the past three years, he trusted the boy to some extent. At the very least, he was confident that the kid could keep his mouth shut when he insisted.

  Another half hour passed.

  Contrary to what the adults in the room expected, Harry showed no worry or fear. In fact, he looked almost thrilled after Maverick finished explaining everything, particularly when he learned the part he would play. As expected of a Gryffindor.

  "Right then, shall we move on to resolving your parasitic problem next…" Maverick glanced from Harry to Dumbledore, signaling it was time. The ritual had already been prepared in advance, and with only Harry remaining as the final piece, they could get started at any moment.

  _______________

  Hogwarts, Chamber of Secrets.

  Woosh! Crackle! Crackle! Woosh!

  A violent surge of wind spiraled through the ancient chamber, twisting the stale air into a raging vortex, tearing cold droplets and drifting dust from the stone and sending them spinning into the air.

  At the center of the chaos, a young boy floated half a meter above the damp floor, his limbs and head hanging limp as if sleep had claimed him completely. Beneath him, a pentagram star burned with a vivid blue glow while arcs of lightning cracked and curled around his suspended form.

  Around the circle, two figures stood with their arms raised toward the floating boy. Their voices rose in an ancient chant that merged with the storm of magic around them while their robes snapped and twisted against the raging current.

  What was happening at this time was a magical ritual. The boy, unconscious, was Harry Potter, the target of the magical formation, and the two figures were obviously Dumbledore and Maverick, guiding the flow of magic and the ritual itself.

  Under normal circumstances, a magical ritual functioned like a carefully conducted orchestra, with the ritual's magic following the will of its target.

  But Harry knew nothing about channeling magic in such a structured form. He had no understanding of magical currents, spell resonance, or the intricate demands of magic this complex. Therefore, Dumbledore and Maverick put the boy to sleep before beginning, having no intention of letting him take charge from the very start.

  Meanwhile, a lone figure remained at the far wall, half shadowed by the dim blue flashes bursting through the chamber. The stone pressed against his back felt cold and slick, yet sweat traced down his face in slow trails that soaked his collar.

  Each burst of wild magic rolled across the room and struck him with a thud that stole part of his breath. Even so, he kept his eyes fixed on the scene before him, unwilling to blink, unwilling to miss a single moment.

  The weight on his expression had little to do with fear of the magic swirling through the air and instead came from the terrible knot tightening in his chest as he watched the boy at the center of it all, still and pale and helpless in the rising storm.

  His godson. Harry Potter.

  Half an hour had crawled by since the ritual began.

  At first, Sirius had been amazed by the legendary Chamber of Secrets, but the purpose of their arrival quickly sobered him.

  He followed like a background character, saw Maverick and Dumbledore explaining the small amount Harry needed to know, and guiding him to the center of the intricately drawn diagram. Meanwhile, he was asked to step back to avoid any unforeseen complications.

  He didn't protest, moving to the edge of the chamber and watching as Harry lay down, trusting them completely. And once Harry was settled, Maverick and Dumbledore put him to sleep, and the ritual began without a moment's delay.

  Presently, the energy in the air thickened and vibrated, as if it had reached its peak. The glowing star beneath the boy pulsed brighter than ever, its light spilling across the stone like a rising tide.

  Minutes stretched on, each one dragging like an eternity for Sirius. He wanted to step forward, to ask if everything was all right, but he held himself back, knowing that any interference might do more harm than satisfy his curiosity.

  At least the expressions on the faces of the two archmagi had not changed. They looked focused, unchanged from the very beginning.

  He forced himself to calm down, raising his arm to shield his face from the gushing waves of magic, when suddenly a shrill, inhuman screech ripped through the chamber, making his eardrums ache.

  He moved his hand, and his eyes widened at the sight. Thick trails of dark smoke burst from his godson's unconscious mouth like hoses let loose, while his body convulsed violently, as if struck by a sudden seizure.

  Has something gone wrong? Worry and fear for his godson hit his chest like a train, and instinctively he took a step forward, only to be slammed back the next second as a gust of something invisible struck him, throwing him against the damp wall.

  Groaning, he got to his feet, pressing one arm against his ear as the screech ahead felt like it was clawing at his brain from within. He lifted his head and saw that the situation had not changed. That eerie, dark substance was still pouring from Harry—not just his mouth, but his nose and even his eyes—while his body convulsed uncontrollably.

  Meanwhile, the two archmagi continued chanting in that unknown tongue, their posture and expressions unchanged. If something were going wrong, surely at least their faces would betray it, wouldn't they?

  He had been warned from the very start not to get close, and his earlier movement had been purely instinct. Still, the sight of his godson like that strained him to the limit, barely keeping him in check. Only reason held his racing heart in place, forcing him to stay where he was and trust the two of them to handle the process.

  And so he waited, each second stretching into what felt like hours. He clenched his fist and lifted his eyes toward the disturbing thing above.

  The eerie dark substance pouring from Harry was gathering into a dark, jelly-like blob that hovered right over him and the ritual circle. The sight felt... wrong. Faces seemed to push through its surface for a brief moment, like drowning people breaking through the water before sinking again.

  Then, suddenly, his head snapped back to Harry when the screeching that had been ringing through the chamber came to an abrupt stop. His thumping heart finally eased a little as he saw the dark smoke pouring from his godson begin to subside as well.

  Was it over?

  He wanted to step forward again, but this time he managed to control his instincts. The chanting had stopped as well, and he soon saw the kid across from Dumbledore make a series of gestures in the air, his head raised. Whatever he was doing, the target was obviously the blob of darkness.

  And sure enough, in the next moment he saw a sparkling ribbon of orange form around the blob of darkness like a net, swiftly wrapping around it like a cage. Then it convulsed inward, shrinking and shrinking until it was no bigger than a small Quaffle.

  ---

  "It's done."

  Lowering his arms, Maverick spoke in a low, steady voice, his eyes fixed on the thing now sealed tightly in its glowing cage.

  "I had assumed we would destroy it. What is the purpose of sealing it instead?" Dumbledore's brows furrowed. At the same time, almost absentmindedly, he conjured a small bed with a sweep of his hand and laid Harry's unconscious body onto it with gentle care.

  "I need to confirm something first." Maverick's gaze settled on Harry as he spoke, a faint gleam rising in his eyes, having thought of something. "Let's do a diagnosis first. I'll elaborate on the matter later."

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  "Black! You can come over now..."

  ---

  Some time later, Headmaster Dumbledore let the Elder Wand drop, while Maverick withdrew the spells of sorcery enveloping Harry, and both exhaled in unison, relaxing their shoulders.

  "Is Harry okay? Did the ritual work? Why is he still unconscious?"

  Sirius couldn't hold his tongue and fired a barrage of questions in a single breath, his eyes darting between the two and his godson lying prone on the conjured mattress.

  "The boy is fine, Sirius. Not a trace of the Dark Lord remains now..." Dumbledore's lips curved into a faint smile as he turned his gaze to Maverick. "Isn't that right, Professor?"

  Humming, Maverick nodded. "Aside from being drained of all magic, the kid should live…" He paused and chuckled, making Dumbledore raise an eyebrow and Sirius release a long sigh. "The boy who lived… well, the boy who shall live fits more accurately, doesn't it?"

  "Ah… indeed." Dumbledore glanced down at Harry, a melancholy expression settling over his face. "Today, it feels as though a great burden has been lifted from this old man's shoulders. Thirteen years… and now, at least, I have the courage to face James and Lily and apologize."

  Sirius crouched down and caressed Harry's head. "How I wish James and Lily were here…"

  "Alright, let's move on to the next matter at hand," Maverick interjected, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't understand their feelings or lacked sympathy, but... it was time to move on.

  "Here," he said, drawing three bottles from his storage ring and handing them to Sirius, who looked at him in puzzlement. "Start with the red, follow with the blue, and finish with the green. Feed him at five-minute intervals."

  "What are they?"

  "Magic, internal injuries, and stamina." Without pausing, he added, "Take him back… no, keep him here, just move, backup to the side until we're done dealing with the Dark Lord's soul fragment."

  If Sirius happened to be carrying Harry's unconscious body through the corridors and crossed paths with another professor, and God forbid if that professor was Snape, it would definitely end in a homicide.

  Moments later, as soon as Sirius backed up with Harry, Maverick waved his hand and the sealed piece of Voldemort's soul became visible again, and his expression fixed solemnly on it.

  "Perhaps you would care to elaborate now, Professor? What, precisely, is it you intend to do?"

  Without sparing the old man a glance, Maverick rose from the ground, folding his legs into a cross legged posture midair. His hands then began moving in deliberate stances, and gradually, sparks of orange started materializing at points around the sealed soul until it was fully surrounded, connected by solid strings of energy.

  The only difference now was that the space inside had grown larger. Rather than the simple seal he had cast on Riddle's soul fragment before, it now functioned as both a seal and a cage, allowing the fragment to move but not escape. Once the new barrier was in place, Maverick dissolved the old seal, and as expected, the soul shard lunged forward immediately, only to slam against the invisible walls of its new cage.

  Bam!

  Bam!

  Again and again it slammed, but the radiant cage of sorcery held firm, no matter which angle it tried to escape from.

  "Harry is the last Horcrux Riddle created, intentionally or not..." Nodding in satisfaction, Maverick finally began explaining his purpose to Dumbledore, all the while his hands never stopped moving, clearly channeling more spells. "Until now, we have destroyed the soul fragments held inside Riddle's Diary, Marvolo Gaunt's Ring, Slytherin's Locket, and Ravenclaw's Diadem. That makes four, and this," he gestured with his head to the mass of darkness, "the fifth."

  "There's also Hufflepuff's Cup, which I will take care of soon, so if you count that along with the wraith, which is the main soul of Riddle still at large, that makes seven, right?"

  Dumbledore hummed, hand resting on his chin. "Seven, exactly. It aligns with our expectations, considering Tom's fixation on the number, and also the divination you received," he added, casting a faintly skeptical glance toward Maverick.

  Maverick's brows twitched slightly. He did dump the "how" of a lot of things as "divination," after all, he can't exactly say he has knowledge beyond the fourth wall.

  Whatever. He shrugged internally and with a straight face continued to bullshit his way forward.

  "Yes, but since Harry was an unintentional Horcrux, there should be one more, right? I am fairly certain his goal was to keep one piece in his own body and place six pieces in Horcruxes. However, because of that unintended mistake, the actual number of soul fragments might be eight, including the loose piece of his soul that is still wandering as a wraith."

  At those words, Dumbledore's brows lifted, and a torrent of thoughts rushed through his mind. Indeed, the old wizard thought, the possibility of that is very high. No, almost certain.

  With that thought, he fixed his gaze on Maverick, who was still focused on… whatever he was doing, dancing his hands and fingers.

  "In the divination you mentioned back then, I recall you mentioned a serpent…"

  "That is what I am about to find out, Headmaster." His hands spread, and in the same breath he pulled them back and pushed them forward again, his thumb and index fingers touching to form a triangle. "Until now, I have not been able to locate this so-called serpent. In the divination I received, I only saw a brief vision of a snake that resembled a venomous viper crawling through the woods, which was not helpful at all..."

  "I gather then, that whatever you plan to do is meant to reveal the serpent's whereabouts?"

  "Sort of…" Maverick replied. "There's a particular spell in the system of sorcery that I practiced a bit more than usual, thinking it might come in handy… It's similar to Legilimency, which lets you access someone's mind, but the difference is that Legilimency works on souls still bound to their bodies, whereas the spell I'm about to use is specifically designed for astral bodies."

  "Astral body?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

  "Basically, one's astral form is their mind's vehicle in non?physical realms, while the soul is the fundamental spiritual self. There's a difference, but at the same time, a similarity too." Maverick didn't go into detail and continued, "I'm hoping the spell works in this case since, well, this is a soul and not really a physical body."

  He paused, then added, "I'll be entering the mirror dimension now. If it works, I should find the memory quickly since I know exactly what I'm looking for. If it doesn't, well, I'll destroy the soul fragment and be back just as quickly."

  Dumbledore nodded, though his expression showed he had a bucketload of questions to ask. Maverick did not linger, having said enough, and with a wave of his hand, he enveloped himself along with Riddle's soul fragment, disappearing from the visible reality.

  His purpose was simple. All this time he had been acting on knowledge from the memories of his previous life, and he wanted to know for sure if they matched what he knew here.

  Nagini, for example, he wasn't sure if it was a Horcrux Riddle created before or after his resurrection. Even though Maverick had watched all the movies of Harry Potter in his previous life, he didn't remember every single detail, but Riddle's memories could answer the lingering doubts for him.

  Moreover, if Nagini was a Horcrux created after Riddle's resurrection, things would be much simpler for Maverick, since Riddle would not live long enough in this reality to create it. That would leave only the Hufflepuff Cup, which he plans to deal with as soon as this matter is resolved.

  —————————

  Shards of crystal-like fragments shimmered in the air, and as if a veil of magic were being pulled away, Maverick emerged in the Chamber of Secrets, returning from the mirror dimension into reality.

  It took a little longer than he expected though, since he had to do some work at the beginning. After all, one could not exactly use Legilimency on a soul, much less on a fragmented piece of one.

  That said, Legilimency was not his only option, and he had the system of sorcery lined up and ready for a challenge like this.

  To start with, it had a wider arsenal of psychic and mystical techniques for accessing and reading memories, most of which he had more or less mastered with the help of his cheat.

  The Sands of Nisanti, for instance, was perhaps the most direct and non-invasive method for extracting and reviewing memories, however, it could only be used when a consciousness was anchored to a physical body, which was not the case here.

  There was also Mystical Hypnosis, a simpler and more subtle approach that placed the target in a suggestible state so they could verbally recount their memories. Yet again, a physical body was required for the magic to take hold.

  Actually, almost every spell, psychic, or psionic approach he knew required some kind of physical anchor, in other words, a body, before anything could even begin. Legilimency was therefore out of the question, as were the general spells of the mystic arc system.

  Maverick had no choice but to improvise therefore, to carry out a small experiment of sorts. His choice of technique was something called Astral Projection Intrusion. It wasn't something he created himself, but a legitimate practice within the mystic arts. However, because of its peculiar nature, it was not a method commonly known or widely used.

  As the name implies, it was a direct probe in which sorcerers projected their astral form into the mind or psychic space of an enemy's astral form. But this kind of forceful intrusion was extremely dangerous, especially when used on someone with extraordinary mental ability.

  If the caster's psychic awareness was weaker, there was a very real chance of the caster's mind suffering a severe backlash. That was one of the main reasons it was not widely practiced.

  Moreover, this method also required a physical anchor in order to pull the target's astral form free, which leads to why Maverick had to improvise.

  His first gamble turned out to be a success. He tested whether he could force an astral form out of the shadowy mass, and to his satisfaction, it moved into place without any resistance.

  After all, technically the Horcrux was neither a pure soul nor a cleanly cut fragment of one, so he had always suspected this would work. It was not fully tangible and not fully intangible, existing in a strange middle ground, yet that narrow gap was all he needed.

  And through that opening, Maverick managed to pull the astral form of Riddle, or rather the piece of his soul, out of the mass of darkness.

  Surprisingly, the astral projection, even if it was only a piece of a soul, still looked human. Hideous, yes, with skin stretched tight over sharp bones, slitted red eyes that burned like embers, and nostrils flattened like a snake's. Yet despite that monstrous distortion, it was still unmistakably human.

  Maverick paid it no mind, not even giving it the slightest chance to speak. The moment the fragment tore itself free from the mass of darkness, he locked it in place and immediately pushed into its psychic space to probe its memories.

  As for any danger, he felt none. His mental realm stood firm as a mountain, and even if Riddle were whole, Maverick would not have been concerned. Let alone a mere fragment like this, it was nothing to him.

  Anyways, his objective was very specific, and he got what he needed very quickly. Turns out Nagini had not yet been created as a Horcrux, and Riddle, at the time before he died, was still contemplating what to use as his final vessel to store the last piece of his soul.

  Heck, he hadn't even considered the Maledictus at that point, and Maverick figured that idea only came to Voldemort after he resurrected himself. Well, it didn't matter now.

  He heaved a sigh of relief at the thought, then traced the last memory he needed and discovered that, as in the original work, Voldemort had indeed given Bellatrix the Hufflepuff Cup to safeguard it, very specifically instructing her to store it in Gringotts.

  And with that, everything he wanted was taken care of. He had no intention of rummaging through the twisted mind any further, left the wicked thing's psychic space, pulled its astral form back into the mass of darkness, and burned it to nothingness on the spot.

  "Were you able to discern the whereabouts of the serpent?"

  Not a breath after his feet touched the damp floor, he heard Dumbledore's question and glanced at the old man with a raised brow. How long had it been... half an hour?

  "Did you not move from that spot all this time?"

  Dumbledore did not answer, his gaze remained fixed on Maverick expectantly, clearly not in the mood to be humored. Brushing off his shoulders, he also chose not to ask again and spared the man any further suspense.

  "Tom hadn't created the final Horcrux when he died and was still searching for the perfect vessel. From his memories, I've confirmed that the only remaining Horcrux now is the Hufflepuff Cup... not counting the wraith of course."

  Saying this, he glanced to the side and saw Sirius still attending to Harry, who remained unconscious.

  "That makes five Horcruxes destroyed then?" asked Dumbledore as they began walking in Sirius and Harry's direction.

  "Yes." Maverick nodded, then cast a sideways look at the old man as a thought occurred to him. "Do you think Riddle's wraith could sense his Horcruxes?"

  Dumbledore made a thoughtful expression, then shook his head slowly. "I have spent many years studying that most vile of magics, especially recently, drawing much from the chambers of the ancestors. Over time, I have come to understand its workings far more than most would dare to imagine… even Tom, dare I say."

  He paused halfway, likely not wanting Sirius to overhear, then continued. "Perhaps Tom was unaware of this, but when he split his soul, he was not merely hiding fragments… he was creating independent consciousnesses. Each fragment was not just a piece of him, but a fully self-contained entity, carrying a portion of his awareness and memories frozen at the moment of creation. His main soul and each split part became entirely separate, meaning each experiences the world on its own terms, completely blind to the fate of the others. Destroy a Horcrux, and the fragment dies in isolation... its loss is invisible to the main soul, incapable of registering its own destruction."

  "In other words, the main soul cannot sense its split parts at all, even if they are completely destroyed?"

  "If they were nearby, perhaps a faint ripple might be felt. But in theory, no. Consider them like twins: no matter how alike they may be, each remains distinct. One cannot fully know the other's pain or experiences."

  "And what if the main soul and a Horcrux were to achieve a physical body at the same time? Would they be the same?"

  "No…" Dumbledore shook his head. "Take the diary, for instance, his first vessel. Even if the Dark Lord's main soul were completely destroyed, and the shard within the diary were to resurrect, he would return only with the consciousness he possessed at the moment the Horcrux was created. In other words, it would be a sixteen-year-old boy, no more, no less. The fragment cannot inherit knowledge or awareness from the main soul that is created later."

  "Likewise with the rest," he continued. "They could even resurrect themselves all at once, but since they would be separate consciousnesses, each would remain entirely independent." The old wizard shook his head, pausing, a faint amusement in his eyes. "Hypothetically, if it were me, I would find it most fascinating to communicate with a consciousness identical to my own. But Tom… I very much doubt he would share the sentiment."

  Maverick chuckled. "Just imagine, seven egotistic morons all at once. I bet the first thing they would do is fight over who gets to be the main body."

  "True." Dumbledore nodded with a faint smile. "I would not be surprised, knowing his nature, if they tried to devour one another. But that would not be possible either, because once the soul was split, there was no recovering from it. Even devouring was not an option."

  "I really cannot understand what made him do it, Headmaster. It's not like we wizards have short lifespans for him to resort to such a foolish method for immortality."

  "Perhaps lifespan was not his concern," Dumbledore answered thoughtfully. "What he feared most, I believe, was death. Splitting his soul and preserving it relieved him of that fear."

  "Hey! Are you both done?"

  The two of them turned their heads, chuckled, brushed the discussion aside, and resumed walking.

  "Anyways, Headmaster, there's no need for us to worry about the serpent anymore. Tomorrow, I'll try infiltrating Gringotts and take care of the final piece."

  "Would you require any assistance?"

  Maverick chuckled aloud this time. "I'll spare you decades of moral torment… besides, I already have a foolproof plan in mind."

  Coupled with the extraordinary stealth trait he gained from the legit invisibility cloak and the many sorcery spells and tricks in his arsenal, he wasn't worried about getting caught in the slightest.

  "Right then." Stopping beside Sirius and the sleeping kid, Maverick let out a sigh and opened a portal that led directly to his office. "Let's get him to a proper bed. He should wake up in a couple of hours."

  —————————

  ???? Walking down the street...

  And distant memories...

  Are buried in the past, forever...

  I follow the Moskva...

  And down to Gorky Park...

  Listening to the wind... of change... ????

  Summer holidays piled an extra layer of bustle onto the already lively lanes of London's magical heart. Even with the sun blazing overhead, it made little difference. Like restless currents in a crowded stream, countless witches and wizards could be seen pressing through the shopfronts, weaving past one another and jostling for space while merchants called out their wares trying to catch their attention.

  With the noise, motion, and sheer number of people filling the area, trying to locate a single person in that swirling mess would feel no different from searching for a needle in a haystack.

  For an ordinary person, anyways. As Maverick stood atop the roof of his own building, a flicker at the edge of his vision drew his attention, and he caught sight of two familiar figures slipping into his shop while laughing and chatting.

  It seems his advice had gone completely ignored by the pair, he thought with a dry amusement. The two in question were Harry and Sirius, and Harry, despite having survived the removal of a deadly magical parasite just the previous day, looked nothing like someone who had brushed so close to death.

  Both Maverick and Dumbledore had strictly advised Sirius to make sure the kid got plenty of rest before he was taken home. After all, potions and remedies could only do so much for one's recovery, and there was still the crucial need to let nature take its course as well.

  Anyway, he had no intention of reminding them a second time, so he ignored the momentary distraction and returned his focus to the matter at hand.

  Gringotts. More precisely, he was waiting for one particular goblin to emerge from the bank, and he had been waiting patiently for longer than he cared to admit.

  The scorching sun was now directly overhead, and surely even magical creatures needed to step out for a lunch break, right? He had already spotted quite a few of the short creatures moving in and out, some alone, others cloaked under disillusionment and accompanied by guards, but none of them was the one he had in mind.

  Time crawled. Nobody paid any attention to the lone figure standing at the edge of the rooftop, and even if someone happened to glance that way, they would only see an empty corner of the building.

  Naturally, he was under invisibility; otherwise, people might assume a crazy person was standing like a statue on the corner, or something equally dramatic, causing unnecessary noise.

  Luckily, he had come prepared. A pair of headphones rested over his hood, playing a classic from his previous life and keeping him occupied while he waited. Though there were many differences between this world and the Earth he had once known, there were also countless points of similarities. And the band Scorpions, fortunately, was one of the latter.

  Finally, he murmured, taking off the earcaps and letting them hang around his neck. It was past two o'clock, and the "fish" had emerged. The goblin in question was Griphook, a senior staff member at Gringotts, in plain terms.

  Of course, this wasn't a random choice simply because the character had more screen time than most goblins in the original story. Maverick had done his research beforehand, asked around, and knew that this was the goblin—or at least a goblin—trusted with handling many important vaults and valuables.

  Interestingly, though, it appeared to be alone, for a goblin of such… significance. Appeared, yes, for Maverick could make out two invisible figures flanking the small creature's left and right as it slipped through the crowd and headed straight toward a narrow alley, one whose name was familiar to anyone acquainted with Diagon Alley.

  And one other thing Maverick had discovered from today's… call it surveillance, was that goblins seems to have plenty of dealings on the shadier side of Diagon Alley. Or was it simply that the goblin cafeteria was located in Nocturne Alley? he mused.

  In any case, it mattered little to him where the goblin was heading, whether it was for lunch or some shady business, whether there were two or two hundred guarding it, and whether they were visible or not.

  So with that thought, his boots lifted slowly off the rooftop, carrying him above the bustling street before settling over the creature, and without pause, he followed its pace as it slipped into the narrow alley, winding toward the far end.

  Unlike Diagon Alley, this narrow passage was completely empty, unnaturally dark for reasons Maverick didn't care to question, and all of it worked perfectly in his favor.

  The timing was perfect. His hand then moved in a deliberate gesture, while directly below, Griphook and his two human guards had no idea they were already in his grasp.

  That said, Maverick's intention was never to engage them directly, nor to take them out for good. All he needed were a few memories from the goblin, and he could do that without raising any ruckus.

  First, the mirror dimension enveloped the area, while his illusion spell masked everything; to the three below, nothing seemed amiss. He first targeted the two humans under disillusionment, rendering them unconscious, then his magic coiled around the goblin, forcing it to stop abruptly in its tracks.

  In the same breath, he sent a measured shock of dominant spirit before it could even register that something was wrong, plunging it into a semi-conscious state, and then began his work.

  To any outside observer, it would appear as if the goblin had simply walked into the narrow alley, moved a short distance, and then vanished into thin air.

  Maverick worked fast. His Legilimency was at a level now at which even seasoned Aclumency would be helpless. Of course, that applied only to magi of Magus rank and lower, as well as ordinary people, while the minds of great magi or archmagi could still sense a forced intrusion. Sense it, yes, but defending against it was an entirely different matter.

  Fortunately for him, his target was far from that league, and Maverick slid into the goblin's thoughts without so much as a stumble.

  What he wanted was very specific: the exact location of the Lestrange vault and the general layout of Gringotts' underground system. He skimmed past the clutter of useless memories while muttering, "Lestrange vault… directions…" and similar cues for the goblin to latch onto.

  The reason he kept the goblin in a semi-conscious state was precisely for that. Like prompts fed into a program, the words slipped into its awareness, guiding its mind toward the information he needed with little resistance.

  It didn't take long, and within a couple of minutes, he had everything he came for. His magic moved with careful subtlety, nothing like a forceful intrusion against a wall of Occlumency, which meant the goblin would not even feel a faint ache once he was done.

  Even so, its consciousness would still register, however vaguely, that something unusual had happened. Mother Magic, fortunately, had a solution for that as well.

  From the moment the goblin stepped into the alley to the moment it fell neatly into Maverick's arrangement, only a few minutes had passed. No one else had come through during that stretch, and even if someone had, they would have seen nothing but an empty passage because everything was unfolding inside the mirror dimension.

  Next came the final touch. Carefully, Maverick cast the Obliviate spell and wiped away any trace that its mind had ever been accessed, even the sensation of being suddenly frozen in place was scrubbed clean.

  What remained would be nothing more than a hazy lapse in awareness — like a brief flicker of light, one moment it had been walking, and the next, an inexplicable blankness before coming to again.

  Anyways, not even ten minutes had passed, and Maverick was certain neither the goblin nor its guards had been keeping track of time.

  After that, he gathered the creature and its two unconscious guards, returned them to reality, and brought them back to awareness.

  He did not leave immediately though, and chose instead to wait, observing everything from above. And sure enough, the moment they regained consciousness, they sprang into motion, turning left and right, back and forth, wearing expressions that screamed What just happened??

  But no matter how many times they spun like a boomerang, the alley remained empty, and nothing seemed out of place. Their expressions grew increasingly puzzled with each passing second. They had no idea what they were even looking for. To them, it was as if something inexplicable had occurred, yet no matter how hard they wracked their brains, they couldn't uncover the cause.

  Only the goblin betrayed any change after a moment. A sudden flash of terror crossed its face, as if it feared something terrible, and it instinctively glanced down at the ring on its hand. Then, after a tense pause, it let out a shaky sigh of relief, even, seemingly unconcerned with the earlier strange sensation of blankness.

  It then muttered something to the guards beside it, and the three eventually resumed their walk, their bewildered expressions following them like shadows as they vanished toward Knockturn Alley.

  From above, watching their retreating backs, Maverick's lips curled into a smile. The goblin's fear had likely come from the thought that someone had robbed the treasures stored in its spatial ring. True to its kind, whose devotion to material wealth outweighed almost everything else, its main concern had never been the strange sensations it felt, but whether its valuables were safe. And once it realized nothing had been taken, the rest barely mattered.

  Maverick didn't linger any longer. He glanced up, squinting at the sun with a thoughtful expression, then decided to act then and there.

  Why wait?

  He already knew the bank's underground layout like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where his target lay. If nothing went wrong, the Hufflepuff Cup would be in his hands just as swiftly.

  —————————

  Author's Note:

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

  Thank you so much for your support. It means the world! ????