The next morning, with the sun just starting to rise behind a curtain of gloomy clouds and a cool breeze drifting through the castle halls, Maverick left his office and made his way toward the Great Hall for breakfast, feeling rather pleased with himself.
It had been a very successful evening, all things considered. Even managed to make it back in time for today's classes and still squeeze in an hour of sleep. And on his way down, he happened to overhear bits of gossip from yesterday's classes coming from passing little witches and wizards. Thank Merlin none of it was about him.
The first was about yesterday's third-year Care of Magical Creatures class, where Mr. Savior had apparently flown a bloody Hippogriff around the school.
It seemed not a single word of Maverick's earlier advice had made it through that half-giant's thick skull—and with that thought, he let out a resigned sigh. Fortunately, no one seemed to have gotten hurt, but still, Hagrid was probably going to get a warning.
The second bit made him chuckle quietly to himself. It was still the same trouble-magnet class, of course. During their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, the new professor had introduced them to a Boggart—a creature that takes the shape of one's worst fear.
Boggarts weren't particularly powerful, but their effect on people with deep fears or fatal weaknesses was remarkable—especially if they were caught off guard.
During the lesson, one student's greatest fear turned out to be none other than Severus Snape. With a bit of encouragement from Lupin, the student managed to face it head-on and cast the Boggart-Banishing Spell, Riddikulus.
The result was apparently as ridiculous as the spell's namesake—the old bat, who had loomed moments earlier in full fearsome form, transformed into a woman, except for his unmistakable face, dressed in a frilly bikini, with a pointed sunhat perched on his head and a massive red handbag swinging from one arm.
It was a bit different from the version he remembered—and honestly, it sounded much funnier. Maverick wished he'd been there to witness the spectacle himself. Not that he had any weird fetishes or anything like that. He simply wanted to see the little genius from his Alchemy class in action.
As soon as he sat down at the High Table, he heard the nosy old man doing what he did best—poking into other people's business, and asking him about his prompt disappearance yesterday.
"Ah, Professor Caesar. I trust your little excursion yesterday went well? Anything interesting to share with the rest of us?"
Maverick shot the old Headmaster a sideways glance as he cut into a piece of bread. "Quite, actually. It was... an out of this world experience..."
"Oh?" McGonagall leaned in from the other side, her brows arching. "Did something happen we ought to know about? What trip is Albus referring to?"
"I was off school grounds after my classes yesterday to take care of something… and yes, something great did happen," Maverick said, flashing McGonagall a wide, all-teeth grin. "But I'm not telling. Not yet."
"May I guess?" Flitwick also piped up from a few seats down. "Another breakthrough with one of your remarkable inventions, perhaps?"
Maverick chuckled and gave the tiny professor a thumbs-up. "You're right, Professor. But I'm still not telling."
Typical light and easy chatter carried on between the staff, while the Hall in front of them buzzed with the usual breakfast-time energy—students laughing, chattering, and clattering cutlery like any other morning at Hogwarts.
By the time Maverick parted ways with the others after breakfast, it was nearly nine o'clock—just in time for his first class of the day.
---
Time moved slowly, and before long, evening had crept in. The Great Hall was once again alive with noise—laughter, gossip, and the day's stories flying across tables, each more dramatic than the last. The lively hum of chatter gave the Hall its usual warmth, perfect for the dinner hour.
Tonight, Mr. Savior didn't seem in the mood to enjoy his dinner, lost in thought over the one big piece of gossip making waves in the Hall at that very moment. And it probably had to do with why some of his classmates kept shooting furtive glances his way, as if he might drop dead any second.
"Don't worry, mate," Ron said, leaning in with a mouthful of mashed potato. "It's all rubbish. To hell with the black dog—and to hell with her and her bloody Grim!"
It turned out that in Divination class, Professor Trelawney had predicted some eerie things for Harry, eerie enough to completely ruin his appetite.
"Ron's right," Hermione chimed in as well. "You're worrying over nothing. Besides, didn't Professor McGonagall say Divination is one of the most unreliable subjects in magic?"
In fact, Harry himself knew he was probably overreacting. But there was something about what his Divination professor had said—that one bit about a black dog—that really stuck with him. He hadn't told his friends yet, but on the day he came to King's Cross with the Weasleys, he really had seen a large black dog. And for some reason, it had caught his attention in a way he couldn't quite explain.
And the reason his thoughts kept drifting back to that brief but vivid moment was because, at the exact second he made eye contact with the creature, he could've sworn to Merlin the dog gave him the most human-like nod—like it was greeting a friend or a family member—before strolling off with its owner, who also gave him a peculiar nod.
At the time, he hadn't thought much of it—just something odd, nothing more. But after today's Divination class, he could feel it in his bones… that dog wasn't normal, and its owner very likely knew who he was.
The Grim… the black dog… something about it felt connected, and Harry's thoughts started racing wildly.
"Harry."
"Harry."
"HARRY!"
"Wha—what? I'm not deaf, Hermione."
She shot him a sharp glare. "You were completely zoned out, and I asked you twice to pass me the pepper…"
"Right…" Harry mumbled, passing her the bottle absently.
Hermione reached with a soft sigh. "Honestly, Harry, you clearly need to talk to someone... If it's bothering you this much, I suggest you talk to Professor Caesar..."
Harry mulled it over and figured that wasn't a bad idea at all. At least, he thought, the Professor wouldn't laugh at him and would really listen.
So he made up his mind to tell Maverick about what he had seen that day as well. That man and the dog were definitely suspicious, and if anyone could find out more, it had to be Professor Caesar.
With his mind made up, he instantly felt lighter. He gave Hermione a quick grin and finally, turned his attention to the food in front of him.
---
Maverick pushed open the window of his office, squinting up at the sky as the night breeze brushed coolly against his face. Moonlight lit up the clouds drifting lazily overhead, and every so often, something dark moved among them—shadowy figures gliding in and out of view. He wasn't sure if it was coincidence, but the sky hadn't cleared once since those things began patrolling the school.
It had been two weeks since the school year began. Nothing major had happened—at least, not here at Hogwarts. Well, maybe except for that first week when Potter came to see him, talking about a black dog and a Grim, looking like someone was out for his head.
Well, there was someone, more than one actually, but... it probably had nothing to do with what the kid was talking about.
It was only after that conversation that Maverick learned Sirius Black had somehow convinced Ali to let him see Potter one last time before school started. Unlike in the original story, Black had no reason to come to Hogwarts now, so knowing he wouldn't see Harry for a long time, he thought it best to say goodbye.
Of course, Harry never said it was Black or Ali, but Maverick was sure. The mention of a black dog and a man with brown skin was enough for Maverick to make the connection.
But Sirius—the git—had to be the dog, even though Maverick had already given him a near-perfect disguise. And because of that, some of the events that followed ended up oddly similar to the original story, like Trelawney and her divinations about a black dog and bad omens for Harry.
In the end, Maverick could only tell the boy something similar to what McGonagall had said in the original story—divination wasn't exactly the most reliable branch of magic. Especially with Trelawney, who was known to predict the so-called "Grim" for at least one student every year, and nothing ever came of it.
Fortunately, Harry took his advice to heart, and his demeanor returned to normal almost immediately that same day. Harry never voiced it, but Maverick could sense it clearly: the kid had placed a quiet, unwavering trust in him.
And because of that, he felt a twinge of guilt for keeping certain things from the boy. There was still the matter of the Peverells… and now, Sirius. Not that he was trying to keep secrets like a certain old man—he wasn't Dumbledore. He was just... too busy.
But not for long. His plan had always been to tell Harry everything about Sirius before Pettigrew was handed over to the Ministry, and to explain what really happened the night his parents died.
Knock… knock… knock.
The steady tapping at his office door pulled Maverick back to the present. Without turning from the window, his Magical-Sense extended through the walls and quickly told him exactly who the visitor was.
A smile curled his lips before he turned, crossed the room, and lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. Then, with a wave of his hand, the door swung open to admit the visitor.
It was Lupin, and with a silent nod in response to Maverick's gesture, he took the seat across from him as the door shut gently behind him on its own.
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