Enough said, Dumbledore did not keep the students from their food much longer and soon brought his speech to an end. The message was simple. Once they went home for the summer, they were to behave as they had before, and the recent changes in the world were no excuse to do otherwise.
And with that came the familiar change in atmosphere. A little late this year, perhaps, but the gloom of final examinations finally descended upon the school.
Standing in front of a sea of students with a blackboard behind him, Maverick could also feel the familiar exam atmosphere as a teacher. To think that only a day ago he had been standing before the leaders of the world, and now here he was facing down a room full of brats instead.
Not that he had grown tired of it. If anything, he had more or less gotten used to the rhythm of it by now. But getting used to something didn't mean he wanted to keep doing it forever.
At most, he would remain for another two years. The only reason for staying even that long was to take the students he had started teaching in first-year Alchemy through all seven years. Once they graduated, so would he.
And next year, he was absolutely going to ask Dumbles to find someone else to teach Muggle Science. Juggling two subjects to seven different year groups was going to be enough to make even a Warlock start counting the hairs on their head.
---
This year Maverick averaged four classes a day, that's two hours each, practically taking up his entire morning and afternoon. Once classes were over he headed straight back to his office to work on the exams.
Muggle Science for the sixth years and N.E.W.T. students, Alchemy for years one through four. Six sets of papers in total. And, because apparently writing six sets of written exams wasn't enough, Alchemy also needed practical examinations.
He sighed.
Two hours later and the Muggle Science papers were done. Thank mother magic and magical quills, they were practically the magical world's equivalent of ChatGPT.
Maverick had never been the type to procrastinate, either in this life or his previous one. He liked things finished and out of the way, and he meant to have the whole lot done by tomorrow evening.
For today, however, that was enough. He gave the papers one last proofread before setting them aside, along with the magical quills still dancing across the desk.
Leaning back in his chair, he glanced at the clock. There was still some time before dinner. After that he had an appointment of sorts, with two particular idiots.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, quite without his meaning it to. He rose and crossed to the long window overlooking the grounds.
Beyond the glass, the sun hung low over the horizon, bathing Hogwarts in the warm gold of late afternoon. The castle threw long shadows across the lawns below, while the sky, slowly, began to change toward evening.
The grounds were quite lively today.
Students had gathered in little clusters across the lawns, some sitting beneath the trees, others sprawled across the grass entirely, books and parchment scattered around them in every direction. A few leaned close together, arguing over answers or comparing notes, while others sat in silence, heads bowed over their own work, trying to force one last fact into their heads before it slipped away again.
It was a familiar sight, this particular strain of pre-exam panic that swept the school every year without fail.
He watched them a moment longer, then turned from the window and swept his hand through the air. A sparkling orange circle bloomed into being at once, expanding rapidly until it stood large enough for him to step through.
A quick visit to Isabella, his happy place. It had been quite some time since they had gotten to spend time together, just the two of them. Not since the ICW conference. If anything, she probably had an even busier time than he did.
Sure enough, the moment he stepped through into her office, he found her buried in a mountain of paperwork, staff bustling all around her.
To think it had all grown this successful in just a single year. There were probably very few homes left in the magical world without a Magic Vision set of their own by now, families tuning in every evening for the news the way Muggles might switch on their own television.
When Isabella had first offered to help him set up a news network of his own, Maverick genuinely hadn't expected her assistance to prove quite this valuable. Half the credit, if not more, belonged to her. Without Isabella, Maverick honestly wasn't sure he could have pulled off half of what he had.
"Thought you went back to school?"
The moment Isabella saw him, she dismissed her staff with a few quick words. No one else was aware that he was there, and only Isabella could see him. It didn't surprise her. She was used to him showing up like this whenever he came to pick her up from work.
"I did." Maverick smiled. "And then I started thinking about you."
Isabella raised an eyebrow.
"So... dinner?"
"Mmm." Maverick stepped closer. "I was thinking we head home directly."
She gave him a suspicious look, though it melted quickly into a small smile the moment she caught his meaning.
"You know." He wrapped his arms around her and leaned in close, murmuring the rest against her ear.
Isabella's face went scarlet. "Now?"
He grinned. "We have a few hours…."
With a casual flick of his hand, the familiar ring of sparkling orange light bloomed once more, though this time it lay flat against the floor behind him, like some glowing magical hatch set into the ground itself.
As the portal expanded, revealing what lay on the other side, Isabella blinked over his shoulder in surprise.
"Is that...?"
It… was her apartment, more specifically, her bedroom, her bed.
Maverick tightened his arms around her and chuckled.
"Wai—"
She barely got the word out before he pulled her through, and the two of them tumbled backward together onto the bed.
An hour and ten thousand words later, Maverick sat at the dining table, watching Isabella move about the kitchen in little more than an oversized shirt. The soft clatter of pans filled the small kitchen as she worked at the stove, the rich smell of dinner slowly filling the flat around them.
The dish itself wasn't anything complicated. Tuna Aglio e Olio, his favourite. Still, Isabella had outdone herself. It was damn delicious.
After dinner, the two of them stayed together for a while longer, talking of nothing in particular, hardly noticing the hours slip past them.
By the time Maverick checked the clock again, it was already gone nine.
"Go on, then." Isabella wound her arms around his neck one last time.
Maverick smiled and rested a hand briefly on her head. "Try to get some sleep, okay… I'll be back in an hour tops."
Upon returning to Hogwarts, Maverick headed straight to the Headmaster's office. When he entered, he found Dumbledore waiting inside with two other people.
"Was I late?" He smiled at the room. "Sorry, something came up."
"Not at all, Maverick. You're just in time," Dumbledore returned the smile and conjured a chair beside his own for Maverick to take.
Seated across from them were Severus Snape and Igor Karkaroff, neither man much inclined toward pleasantries. Two grown men, both with what amounted to an almost pathological talent for brooding, they simply waited, in silence, for whatever apparently important business had brought them together tonight.
"Tea?"
"No." Karkaroff gave Dumbledore a flat, unimpressed look. "What is it, Albus? What's so important that you needed the two of us here?"
"Ah, my apologies, gentlemen. It isn't I who wished to speak with you." Dumbledore seemed entirely unbothered by Karkaroff's tone, and turned instead toward Maverick. "Rather, it's Professor Caesar."
Snape, sitting perfectly still, showed the first flicker of reaction he'd allowed himself all evening, the faintest movement behind his eyes. He and Maverick had been colleagues for several years now, but the two of them rarely exchanged so much as a word. In fact, beyond matters strictly related to the school, they never spoke at all, not even in passing.
Karkaroff turned his attention toward Maverick as well. He wore a brave enough face for it, but inwardly, he was far from calm. Beneath that easy smile and that warm, casual manner of speaking, Karkaroff knew perfectly well the boy in front of him was dangerous. And not merely because Maverick's magic operated on a plane entirely beyond his own. He was, quite simply, dangerous in every other sense a person could be.
Maverick looked back at him in turn. From his expression alone, at least, Karkaroff felt nothing out of the ordinary, not until he heard what came out of his mouth.
"Care to tell us where you disappeared off to, Igor? You know. After learning your old master was alive and kicking once again."
Karkaroff said nothing for several long seconds, the room falling into silence around him. Cold beads of sweat had gathered on his brow by the time he finally managed to mutter, "I..."
But before he could get any further, Maverick cut him off. Turning to Dumbledore, he asked, easily enough, "Didn't you ask him to stay put here at Hogwarts, Headmaster? Before you and Madam Maxime left?"
"I did indeed." Dumbledore nodded.
Maverick turned back to Karkaroff once again. "Go on, then. What was so urgent that you had to duck out for two whole days before showing your face again?"
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