Hogwarts.
Sunlight streamed through the tall arched windows of the Headmaster's office, filling the room with a soft golden warmth despite the thick layers of snow blanketing the castle grounds.
It was another beautiful morning, and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sat behind his large ornate desk, a cup of something undoubtedly sweet resting before him, while his magical companion, Fawkes, purred softly, feathers fluffed and eyes closed, perched on his stand in peaceful slumber.
Accompanying him across the desk, his deputy, Minerva McGonagall sat in her usual composed posture, while beside her, Maverick leaned back slightly in his chair, the three of them appearing to share just another lighthearted morning conversation.
"I didn't take you for a cat person, Professor, or any… pet, as a matter of fact…"
Looking at the red ginger cat resting peacefully on Maverick's lap as he rubbed its back, Dumbledore's eyes couldn't help but twinkle inquisitively.
"Yes, well, you were wrong then, Headmaster."
"Will she be a permanent resident then?" McGonagall also glanced over, smiling.
"How'd you know it's a she?" raising an eyebrow, Maverick asked. He was genuinely a little surprised. He had only just returned to Hogwarts, first from Kamar-Taj and then after spending some time with his family back home. He was certain McGonagall had never seen Goose before, not even in the illusions he had shown everyone a few weeks earlier during the briefings at Maria's house.
When he arrived, unsurprisingly, he was summoned to the Headmaster's office as soon as he passed the wards, before he even reached his chamber.
"You forget, Professor," she said with a teasing smirk, "who you're talking to. No cat can fool me," she added rather confidently.
Apparently, this one had. Of course, Maverick didn't say it out loud, just shrugged, letting her win her way, then turned to Dumbledore again. "So, is there something urgent happening?"
"Nothing in particular," Dumbledore answered, then pushed the newspaper on the desk to his side. "I was wondering if you've seen the recent news?"
With a questioning look, Maverick nudged the paper toward himself and took a look. On the front page, as it had been for the past few days, was an article about what happened in China over the desert. "Hmm… I like the picture," he said, looking at the moving photograph of himself, infact, captured from the side as he summoned eldritch magic into a colossal ring of blades. "Is this a new magic or transfiguration at the highest level?" he read the headline aloud, then put the paper down and looked back at Dumbledore.
"I've seen my face more times than I can count these past few days, so I've been avoiding them for now," he said with a chuckle. "Merlin, I'd rather not end up a narcissist like Lockhart."
"Lockhart was a fraud, Professor, which you are not." McGonagall also chuckled and picked up the newspaper, folding the first page, then the next, to the third. "Here," she said, handing him the paper again.
Taking the paper from her hand and shrugging lightly, he glanced at the contents again.
"The first failure by the new administration..."
Infamous Murderer Peter Pettigrew Found Dead in Prison Cell
In a shocking turn of events, convicted murderer Peter Pettigrew was found dead inside his prison cell shortly after a visit from his mother, Mabel Pettigrew. Authorities have ruled the incident a suicide, though many question whether that is truly the case.
Was this a final act of mercy from a grieving mother? Sources within the Ministry whisper that Mabel Pettigrew may have played a part in her son's death. Whether through a colorless poison or an unforgivable curse that severed his soul, one thing is certain — Peter Pettigrew's torment inside the prison has come to an unexpected and mysterious end.
Maverick read part of the article aloud, then put it down. Of course, he already knew exactly what had happened long before the newspapers got wind of it, but he was simply playing along.
Pettigrew's mother had applied to visit Azkaban not once but twice. The first time was a normal visit, but the second time... well, let's just say the apparently dead body of Peter was not exactly him. And likewise, the woman in question was not exactly Peter's mother anymore, and someone else.
Everything had happened under Greengrass's absolute supervision, and even the aftermath — from leaks to the report by the Daily Prophet — was orchestrated by him. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been buried on the third page of the paper.
While the article suggested that Peter's mother might have convinced the rat to end his life or even taken part directly, the truth was far from it. The rat's mother had offered to switch places with her son — call it maternal-sacrifice. In other words, it was indeed a mother's mercy, or rather, a sacrifice, for her son.
Of course, she couldn't have done that so smoothly if the guards hadn't been told to look the other way. There was no compulsion involved, and it was purely her own decision. It wasn't exactly how Maverick had planned to make the rat escape, but the perfect solution had delivered itself on a silver platter, so he simply asked Greengrass to close one eye.
"Tragic. For the mother, of course," Maverick remarked after a moment. "I wouldn't exactly call it mercy, though. The rat deserves no mercy." He paused, then glanced at Dumbledore. "Wouldn't you think so, Headmaster?" He didn't really care whether Dumbledore suspected something was off. Either way, he would find out soon enough.
"Would you really like to hear my thoughts on it, Professor?" Dumbledore asked after a moment, giving him a knowing smile.
Maverick waved a hand. "No, not really. Is this why you called me to your office, Headmaster?"
The smile on the old man grew even wider, but Maverick didn't budge and kept a straight face. Okay, now Maverick was fairly sure that this old fox had at least deduced something wasn't quite right about the supposed suicide. But unless he asked directly—and even then—Maverick would feign ignorance.
"Will the two of you not… do that in front of me, please?" After a stretch of silence, McGonagall finally interrupted their quiet exchange and complained. "And no, Professor, we did not ask you to come because of the article," she said, turning to Maverick.
"Please, I'm all ears," Maverick said, lifting his shoulders slightly.
McGonagall then glanced once more at Dumbledore and turned back to Maverick again, deciding she would lead the discussion from here. It was mostly about the lesson plans for the remainder of the semester, and that he should be prepared for some very, very enthusiastic questions from students during the first few days.
The talk of the magical world was still about the sky-shattering battle that took place a few weeks ago, and they, being the main figures of the operation, would undoubtedly be sought out the most.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, and even Flitwick had been avoiding reporters until now, returning to Hogwarts and never appearing in public—at least not as themselves—so none of their comments had been published. The same went for Maverick, though he wasn't exactly avoiding reporters; he was simply busy in places they could not find him.
Obviously, the young witches and wizards would be impatient to hear about everything from them, which unfortunately couldn't be avoided. They would just have to endure it for a few days until the buzz faded away.
"There's one last, very important matter," McGonagall said at the end. "Discussions have begun between the three major schools of Europe—Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts—about holding a grand event next year. Igor proposed the idea, saying he drew inspiration from the interschool Quidditch tournament, to create a truly magical competition between the three schools."
"Oh…" Maverick was intrigued and looked between the two of them. "What does Headmaster Karkaroff have in mind?" Of course, he already had a guess, but he didn't expect the reason behind it to be "inspiration" from the interschool tournament he started.
"Have you heard about the Triwizard Tournament?" asked Dumbledore, looking at Maverick.
"I have. But wasn't it stopped because of the loose regulations and many safety risks involved?"
"It was," McGonagall answered from the side. "But that was a long time ago. And regulations can be changed... so can safety measures."
"Indeed," Dumbledore chimed in. "In any case, it promises to be a delightful event, much like the interschool Quidditch tournament... one that could bring the students of our school's four houses into an even more harmonious atmosphere than it already has."
Maverick nodded, then after a moment, asked again, "What are the proposed changes discussed so far?"
"For starters," McGonagall explained enthusiastically, "we're thinking of creating a brand-new Triwizard Cup, or at least removing its old, binding rules. Anything uncontrollable or too dangerous for the organizers to handle will be dropped. That said, it cannot be any less thrilling than before. We have also proposed raising the security standards even higher. With that in place, we could also remove the age restriction, or at least lower it slightly."
"Still, talks are on the table, not finalized," Dumbledore added, then smiling at Maverick, he asked, "Would you like to join us for the next meeting—"
"No." Maverick quickly cut him off, raising a hand. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, I have too much on my plate. Businessman turned full-time teacher and all that. Especially next year, I can't worry about anything else, since many new projects from my companies, both in the Muggle and magical spheres, are planned to launch."
Both Dumbledore and McGonagall sighed at the same time. However, Maverick didn't change his expression, no matter how much air the two old foxes exhaled.
A moment later, Dumbledore said, "Very well, then. How would you feel about joining the judges' panel? Surely that won't take much of your valuable time?"
"Wasn't it supposed to be one judge from each school?" Maverick asked, puzzled.
"That was before, and now it's under discussion. While we're making changes to the participants, their ages, perhaps even their numbers... we might as well increase the number of judges," he explained, and having said that, he waited for Maverick's response.
Damn. This old man is really pushing it. Exhaling, Maverick finally nodded. "As a judge, fine. But that's it. Don't throw any other responsibilities my way."
"Wonderful," McGonagall exclaimed brightly. "And I hope you wouldn't mind lending your team to help us cover the tournament… you know, broadcasting the events through your fiancée's news network, much like the interschool Quidditch tournament…"
Maverick nodded after a moment. "I'll ask Bella and my friend Ali to get in touch." By now, he didn't need to involve himself personally in matters like this, and Isabella and Ali were more than capable of handling it on their own.
Anyway, he would be too busy, because during this very tournament was also when his plan to topple the Secrecy Act would begin. And now, because of the changes that would be made to the Triwizard Tournament, some adjustments would also be needed in his plan, though nothing troublesome that couldn't be improvised.
Some more words were exchanged, and soon, Maverick finally left for his chamber in the castle. Later, around sunset, the train would arrive at Hogwarts—packed full of students—ready to begin another, undoubtedly memorable semester.
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