"We'll only be learning two spells today. Two, very basic ones. First, Expelliarmus—the most common charm used to disarm someone. And then Stupefy—a stunning spell that knocks your opponent out or freezes them in place."
Maverick glanced over the crowd of students and gave his wand a lazy wave. The floating text that had formed from the chair earlier drifted down to the stage, then reshaped itself once more into something resembling an armoured soldier wielding a longsword.
Clang! Clang!
The construct slammed its heavy sword twice onto the concrete platform, each strike echoing through the hall. The students stared, wide-eyed, clearly impressed by the seamless Transfiguration and even more curious about how it would tie into the lesson.
"Observe!"
Saying that, he turned to the transfigured soldier. On cue, the armored figure lifted its longsword over one shoulder and stomped forward, each heavy step shaking the floor of the hall as it charged straight at him.
"Expelliarmus!"
Maverick thrust his wand forward, slow enough for the demonstration but still with enough force behind it.
Crackle!
A flash of red, crackling light shot out and hit the charging armored knight square in the chest.
Boom!
The students couldn't help but widen their eyes at the result.
They saw the knight's longsword fly from its hand, slicing through the air with a sharp hiss as it spun toward Maverick—who simply stepped aside, letting it crash into the floor beside him and sink halfway in.
"Key points: clear target, firm intention," he explained. "Just think, you don't want them to have it. Really hold that in your mind. Then focus your magic and blast it away. You don't even need to aim right at the weapon or wand."
"Oh, and by the way—when you disarm someone, you're basically confiscating their weapon. So unless it's a wand or something light and easy to catch… don't try grabbing it."
He shot a look at the sword still stuck in the floor and gave a small nod toward it.
"Whoa! It's still moving!" someone gasped.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. It seems the armored knight, despite being disarmed, wasn't done yet.
Thud... Thud... Thud... Thud...
It lunged again with heavy steps, and even without a weapon, it still had its arms and legs—more than enough to attack.
Seeing this, Maverick was in no hurry and moved on to demonstrate the next spell at the same, leasure pace.
"Remember... the key to any spell lies in the strength of your intent," he said evenly. "For the stunner hex, you just need to want your opponent to stop. That's it. Don't think too complicatedly, and just want your enemy to freeze... or not move at all. Whatever feels right to you..."
Stupefy!
With a crisp, decisive downward slash, a bright orange bolt shot from his wand and struck the transfigured soldier cleanly in the chest.
Crrrr...
The knight skidded to a halt mid-step, then froze completely—locked in place like someone had hit its pause button.
"...whether it's a him, her, or some charging beast, just mean it, and the spell will do the rest."
With that, he gave the transfigured knight one last lazy wave, and both it and the sword melted down, reforming into the simple chair it had once been.
In the time that followed, Maverick carefully broke down both spells as thoroughly as he could, pointing out everything from the tiny changes in how the lips moved to the exact angle each wrist should turn using the illusion spell to project each detail clearly, so the students could follow along with ease.
By now, every student at Hogwarts had experienced his unusual way of teaching, so it didn't cause much of a fuss. And yet, none of them ever seemed to grow tired of the spectacle. It had always been a fascinating way to learn, and no one had ever raised a single complaint.
…And half an hour later—
"Alright, thats enough talking, and let's begin with the practicals."
With a clap of his hands, he dispelled the illusion and spread his arms wide.
And at the mention of practicals, the students watched eagerly, knowing full well that with this professor, something interesting was always bound to happen.
And Maverick didn't disappoint. Maybe a little dramatic, sure.
He clapped his hands, then slowly raised them, drawing out the moment. The students gasped as the heavy oak chairs and tables stacked along the edge of the Great Hall began to transform—just like in his earlier demonstration.
Only this time, it wasn't just a single chair undergoing a seamless transfiguration, but hundreds of them. They all rocked and twisted before transforming into armored knights holding small wooden sticks. As for why not longswords… well, that went without saying.
"Now, I want you all to split into groups—three per group, preferably with each member from a different year. I know some of you have already learned the spell, but still, cooperate. You can always improve your proficiency, so don't think this is a waste of time..."
Once again, no one noticed how quickly the time passed. The students were too caught up in practicing their spells—freezing, disarming, and occasionally setting off a few unintended sparks.
The entire Hall echoed with a jumble of wobbly incantations. Those who had already mastered the spells were quick to help their classmates, while Maverick made his way from group to group, offering guidance, adjusting stances, and occasionally tossing in a bit of praise.
"Potter," Maverick called out, his eyes landing on an unusual trio nearby. "Tell me—what's she doing wrong?"
"Her wrist angle needs to be raised, Professor," Harry replied without missing a beat.
Maverick turned to the second-year and asked, "Did you hear that, Miss Lovegood?"
"I did, Professor," Luna said with a dreamy nod. "Mr. Harry Potter has been a wonderful teacher… almost like a nargle-whisperer, if they were spells instead of invisible creatures." She adjusted her posture, and sure enough, the red beam of light from her wand looked far steadier than before.
"And what about Mr. Wolpert's?"
The boy in question was a first-year Gryffindor, a little stiff and hesitant. Maverick recognized him from alchemy class—Nigel Wolpert, shy but earnest, and apparently a big fan of Potter.
"Uh… Nigel's still getting the hang of the incantation, Professor," Harry said. "But he's improving brilliantly."
"Good..."
Moving forward, weaving past a few more groups, Maverick paused again when he noticed two third-year witches flanking a much smaller first-year girl, trying to coach her through the spell.
"Hold your arm higher, Astoria, like this…" Tracy Davis instructed, demonstrating the movement with a confident flick of her wand.
On the other side, Daphne Greengrass—Astoria's older sister—chimed in as well, her voice equally firm. But from the way Astoria's brows furrowed and her grip on the wand tightened, Maverick couldn't quite tell if the two were helping or overwhelming her.
He watched as the tip of Astoria's wand strained to release a faint red thread of light, but it fizzled out barely three meters in.
"Your wand movement isn't the problem," Maverick's voice cut in smoothly at the right moment, drawing quick, startled gasps from all three girls. Astoria's expression morphed quickly from surprise to a pink-cheeked fluster once she realized who it was.
"That… uh… then what is?" she asked hesitantly.
Rather than answering immediately, Maverick turned to the two older girls and raised a brow. "Well?"
"She's… too nervous?" Tracy offered after a short pause.
Daphne nodded in agreement.
Maverick finally looked back at Astoria. "They're not wrong. Now, what did I say is the single most important factor when casting a spell?"
Astoria blinked, then her eyes lit up with understanding. She was quick—clearly her sister's equal in intellect.
"Intent, Professor. Intent!"
"That's right," he said, nodding with a small smile. "While casting a spell, your will must always be firm."
With that, he offered her an encouraging look, then continued his quiet patrol through the crowd while a faint smile of satisfaction played at his lips.
---
When it comes to learning—whether theory or practice—it always clicks better when your heart and mind are fully in the moment. Simply put, when you enjoy the process, it becomes easier. By the end of the class, even the first years had grasped the basics of the two spells at a beginner's level.
That was no small feat, considering it was just one class and only lasted two hours.
Two hours of class seemed to pass in an instant. When Maverick finally announced the end of the lesson, a chorus of low groans echoed around the room.
It wasn't just the students who had been present. Under Disillusionment Charms, a few professors had also been quietly observing the entire class from start to finish.
Of course, Maverick had noticed them from the very beginning, but he pretended not to. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence during his lessons.
Most notably, during his Muggle Science classes, he would occasionally sense the presence of other professors—there under Disillusionment Charms so as not to disrupt the rhythm of the lesson.
They were simply there to observe and learn, as much of the content proved enlightening even to them. It had been happening ever since he joined Hogwarts, and by now, he had long grown used to it.
Today, the school's Headmaster and his deputy were present, along with the Charms professor, and all three were clearly astonished by the students' reaction when Maverick announced the end of class. After all, whenever they ended their own lessons, no one groaned in disappointment—students usually rushed to get out.
With Maverick, however—whether it was Alchemy or Muggle Science—scenes like this were common. It wasn't unusual for a few students to linger behind just to ask questions. And now, even in a subject that mainly involved charms, it seemed to be no different.
He really was good at teaching anything, they all thought at once, each with a faint trace of envy in their eyes.
"Class dismissed. We'll continue with the same tomorrow. Now off you go... back to your common rooms or wherever. I need to return the hall to its original state."
---
As soon as the last students filed out through the large oak doors, Maverick let out a quiet breath and turned around while making two counter-clockwise circles with his hand above his head.
The hall wouldn't return to its original state on its own, after all. So, as he climbed the short set of steps up to the stage, he casually set the whole thing in motion.
The hundreds of animated training dummies—most of them now slumped in awkward positions after being blasted, stunned, frozen, or otherwise humiliated by a bunch of teenagers—began twitching back to life. Chairs scraped, tables shifted, and everything that had been transfigured or shoved aside during the lesson started moving back into place like a well-drilled army packing up camp.
It might sounded like a lot was happening—well, it was—but for him, it really wasn't a big deal. His Transfiguration was already at an advanced level, and when coupled with his overpowered-af magical energy manipulation, the whole process barely took any time at all.
By the time he reached the chair at the center of the stage and dropped into it with all the energy of someone who would rather be doing anything but this, the Great Hall had already returned to looking… well, exactly like the Great Hall.
Not a training arena. Just a massive room with four long tables neatly arranged, plates stacked, benches polished, and not a single dummy in sight.
"What? You three need a lesson on the Stunning and Disarming Hex too?" he asked lazily, one brow raised.
Three chukles echoed the room and three figures materialized next to him, smiling and completely disregarding his rather unimpressed look.
"Headmaster, you cheated! How in Merlin's name can combining three grades count as a single class?"
The old man just laughed, and honestly, what else could Maverick expect? He was pretty sure Dumbledore wasn't going to apologize for scamming him in the first place.
"Are you sure there's no way to convince Professor Caesar to take the permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Albus?" McGonagall suddenly asked, completely ignoring his presence.
Birds of a feather flock together.
"Hey... hey, I'm still here. And don't even try, Headmaster. Even if you plucked that bird naked and handed its feathers to me, I still wouldn't agree."
"Speaking of," came Flitwick's cheerful voice, "Maverick, I've been needing a phoenix feather myself. And Headmaster just mentioned that you recently came into possession of a good number…"
"Absolutely not," Maverick cut him off flatly. "Those were hard-earned. Go beg a certain bearded conman if you're desperate."
The group chuckled and shared a few more jokes. But eventually, Dumbledore brought the conversation back to the reason they were there in the first place.
"Remus is expected to have his first transformation tonight," he said calmly. "What are your thoughts, Professor?"
"What does it matter what I think, Headmaster?" Maverick replied with a sigh. "It's an unavoidable misery he has to endure every month."
He paused, then asked, "By the way, where exactly is he going to be locking himself in during the transformation?"
"Curious, are you?" Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling with that infuriating sparkle.
Maverick's brow twitched. He was just about to tell the old man to forget he ever asked—then Dumbledore answered anyway.
As expected, it was the same as in the original story. Lupin would be staying in the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, connected to the castle by a hidden tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.
"Have you never seen a werewolf transformation and are thinking of observing one, Professor?" McGonagall asked.
"Hmm… perhaps." Maverick didn't exactly say yes, and just shrugged.
"Well," she said, "telling you to be careful would be redundant. But if you could… consider easing the poor man's pain, will you? I've heard you're quite the healer as well..."
Fantastic. More labour.
"Right, right… if I do end up going, I'll see what I can do," he said with a lazy wave as he stood up. "Anyway, I'm off for... whatever..."
Without another word, he turned and walked off. He had a feeling if he stayed any longer, these sly old foxes would drag him into another one of their pyramid schemes.
As for Lupin—yes, he was definitely going to visit him tonight.
They were already pretty familiar with each other thanks to the whole mess with Peter Pettigrew, but Lupin hadn't officially agreed to join him yet.
And there was no way Maverick was about to pass up the chance to recruit this perfectly good thug—ahem—ally—who, if he agreed to take the alternative cure, could be used to terrify the living daylights out of his enemies.
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