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.
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!"
—————————
Author's Note:
🔥 Drop those Power Stones! 🔥
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