When December arrived, the last colors of autumn were all but gone, and a thin layer of snow dusted the Hogwarts grounds. The air was sharp and biting, each breath visible in the cold, and the wind whispered through the bare branches of the Forbidden Forest—a quiet that confirmed winter had fully settled in.

  Inside the castle, however, the school's magic kept the halls pleasantly warm, and the corridors snug and alive with quiet energy. Past two o'clock was usually the hour for upper-grade classes, and at this moment, the sixth-year Muggle Science classroom was filled with low murmurs as its occupants stared intently at a magical diagram hovering beside their professor.

  The focus of today's lesson was how the smallest parts of the body function, and Maverick stood at the front, explaining while gesturing toward the magical construct he had created for emphasis—a moving diagram of a single epithelial cell, its nucleus, mitochondria, and other components slowly rotating in midair for the students to observe.

  The Muggle Science class was not just about physics at work but covered all three major branches of science—physics, chemistry, and biology. Maverick's objective for the course was to ensure the students understood how their world operated without magic, and biology was a cornerstone of that understanding, revealing the intricate systems that keep all living things alive, magical or non-magical alike.

  "…they are the foundation of all living things," Maverick explained, pointing to the diagram. "Think of them as tiny house-elves in the kitchen, each working tirelessly to make sure you never go hungry."

  Students leaned in, some raising their hands with questions, while others whispered among themselves about the invisible worlds inside their bodies.

  When the bell rang to mark the end of class, it had been another enlightening session for the students, one that introduced entirely new ideas and changed the way they saw the world.

  Of course, it wasn't just the material that left them satisfied at the end of every lesson—it was also how Maverick brought the class to life. Otherwise, he was sure half of them would have been snoozing before even reaching the halfway point.

  With the third class of the day finished, Maverick waited a moment as the students filed out, and soon the classroom filled again—this time with their seniors, the NEWT students of the same subject.

  For this class, what Maverick taught was slightly more advanced, but still far from university level. While fifth-year Muggle Science class covered mostly middle-school material, the seventh-year class included a mix of middle-school knowledge and a bit of high-school level knowledge as well.

  The purpose wasn't to turn them into scientists, but to give them a solid understanding of the world—basically, Muggle Logic. For example, fire needs oxygen as well, and not just a flick of Incendio. In Maverick's opinion, middle-school level science explains that perfectly, and it was enough to make the point.

  "Now, I don't want you stressing over the midterms… so I've prepared a little something for you." With the lecture for this class wrapped up as well, and just before the bell, Maverick lifted the stack of papers on his desk and passed one to each student's desk.

  "These are multiple-choice questions for homework," he added, leaning casually against the desk as the students began skimming their contents. "Get the answers right, and you'll have no problem acing the test."

  "Professor, are these the midterm papers?"

  "No, Miss Shafeeq. If they were, there'd be no point in the exams, right?" Maverick replied, glancing at the little witch at the front who looked way too excited. Then, gesturing lightly toward the paper on her hand, he added, "its just for reference. Besides the exams arnt going to be all multiple choice."

  He stepped forward, smiled at her, and then scanned the room—just in time for the bell to ring.

  "Right… that's it for today. Have a nice weekend."

  With that, the last class of the first week was over, and after answering some questions from a few students who stayed behind, he left the classroom and strode straight toward his office.

  ---

  "Bloody hell, Harry. What the heck do you think is wrong with that greasy-haired bat today? Fifteen points—he deducted fifteen points from us just in that one class!"

  The Gryffindor trio also had just finished their last class for the day and were making their way toward the common room, their conversation circling back to the disaster that was Potions.

  "Isn't that how he always treats me?" Harry muttered, eyes fixed ahead. He didn't have to say he was annoyed—his face said it all. Snape had indeed yanked fifteen points from Gryffindor, and it was because of none other than Harry himself, who had been unable to answer his ridiculous trick questions.

  "I don't know, Harry… he seems especially not in the best mood today—like, really mad at you for some reason," Hermione said thoughtfully, keeping pace on his right.

  "Forget it. I'd rather talk about something else..."

  "Hmm... speaking of, have you seen yesterday's newspaper?" asked Hermione again, glancing sideways.

  "About Sirius Black? Good riddance. I think he's already been caught, right? That's what I heard from some of the seventh-years," Ron spoke up before Harry could answer.

  Harry shook his head. "I read it. It didn't say he's been caught... just that they think they know where he is. The Aurors might get him soon."

  "There's someone in our year who might know more," Hermione said, nodding as a thought occurred to her. "Daphne Greengrass... it's her father who gave the interview for the article. Should we ask her?"

  But before Harry could answer, Hermione's eyes lit up. Up ahead, she saw her favorite professor heading in their direction, so without a second thought, she broke into a quick jog.

  He would definitely know more than Daphne Greengrass, she thought.

  "Professor! Can we talk?"

  The trio came to a stop in front of Maverick, unintentionally blocking his path.

  He gave a long-suffering sigh.

  "What is it?"

  "It's about yesterday's newspaper—Sirius Black. We were wondering… do you know anything more about what's going on? Have the Aurors caught him? And what does Lord Greengrass mean by this new evidence that might change everything everyone thinks they know about the criminal?"

  Little Miss Know-It-All fired off three questions in one breath.

  "And what does that have to do with you three?" Maverick raised an eyebrow. "You do realize your midterms are just a week away, right?"

  "Professor, if you know something, please tell us. Sirius Black is the reason my parents died—"

  "Your parents were murdered by the Dark Lord, Harry," Maverick cut him off. He sighed inwardly, but then, thinking he was going to tell the kid some of the truths about Black before the trial anyway, he softened his tone and continued, "I do know something about the fugitive. Come… follow me to my office."

  The trio agreed hastily, and after a few corners and some stairs, they soon found themselves sitting in Maverick's office.

  "Tea?"

  "Yes, please." Hermione bobbed her head, and Maverick summoned three steaming cups of scented tea for them.

  "Right, about Sirius Black…" Maverick went straight to the point. "First, I need you three to promise not to leak a word to anyone without my permission." His eyes were stern as he leaned back and clasped his hands.

  "We will," the trio said in unison, their expressions turning serious too.

  Maverick didn't doubt them, even if they were only teenagers. Until now, anything he asked them not to share, they hadn't. Especially Harry—somethings, he even kept from his own friends because he was told not to speak about them.

  Letting out a sigh, Maverick began explaining the situation with Sirius Black, carefully leaving out some details: how he was caught, the interrogation, and even the true identity of a certain lost pet.

  What he told them was basically that new evidence had reached the Wizengamot suggesting that Sirius Black might very well be innocent—and that someone else was the real culprit that betrayed Harry's parents, leading to their deaths.

  Needless to say, Harry was shocked—and even more confused.

  "What evidence?" he blurted out the moment Maverick finished.

  "Peter Pettigrew. Apparently, he was the one who betrayed your parents and has been faking his death until now. We'll know more at the hearing."

  "Trial? So he's really been caught?" Hermione asked.

  "No. It's more complicated. But there will indeed be a trial, and you'll just have to read about it afterward to understand… What you need to know is that Sirius Black never received a proper trial—any trial at all—twelve years ago. He was simply caught and locked away without a word to anyone. Now, the Wizengamot wants to set things right..."

  He explained, keeping everything as simple as possible. Although he had given them a watered-down version of events, he didn't plan to reveal all the details.

  If Maverick didn't have plans for them in the future, he wouldn't even be explaining anything, despite the case's direct connection to Harry. But he did need to cultivate thugs—cough, future leaders—and these three—well, two and a half—were prime candidates.

  A moment of silence fell over the room as the trio digested his revelations, and then—

  "Professor… is—is everything you said true?" Harry asked after a while.

  Hermione and Ron glanced at their friend with sympathy, each clasping a hand over Harry's. "We're with you," they didn't say aloud, but Harry knew, glancing at them, that was exactly what they meant.

  What a powerful bond, Maverick thought. Teenagers or not, they truly were an iconic trio.

  "Very likely. The trial should be held after Christmas. This is a secret, so again—do not speak a word about it," Maverick warned.

  "Can we also attend?" Harry asked hopefully.

  Maverick nodded. In fact, he had planned to bring Harry from the start.

  "What about us? Professor, we'd like to go too," Hermione asked just as hopefully.

  Maverick shook his head firmly. "As Harry said, he has a direct connection to the case, so he can attend. Plus, he's the heir to House Potter and will inherit the lordship once he comes of age. The Wizengamot isn't like Muggle courtrooms, so you two will have to read about it in the news—or Harry can tell you the story afterward."

  Begrudgingly, the duo could only nod.

  "I'll tell you all about it. No worries," Harry said, glancing left and right.

  "Right then… off you go. Don't think about the case for now. Focus on your midterms, and remember—don't tell anyone."

  Maverick dismissed them to their common rooms. Once they left, he leaned back in his chair, reflecting on everything that had happened this week.

  First, Lord Greengrass had given an interview to the Daily Prophet to prepare the public for the ruckus that was coming in the following weeks. One reason was to prevent Fudge from brushing the matter under the rug, and the second was that it would make arranging a trial for Black easier.

  Of course, Fudge would be all over Jameson for going to the press—but that was all he could do. He couldn't lock him up or force him to reveal anything because Jameson was a political faction leader, and the upper echelons of British politics already knew he was backed by Maverick.

  Basically, Jameson's story would be that Sirius Black had contacted him, wanting to turn himself in—but only if he were guaranteed a fair trial. With that argument, and coupled with his influence in the Wizengamot, Jameson would then arrange a trial for Black, and he would turn himself in on the day of the trial, bringing Peter Pettigrew along as well. And then...

  The plan was going smoothly according to the script, and Maverick was quite pleased with how Jameson was handling everything without needing his interference. But for now, he still had two grades' exams to prepare.

  Sigh...

  And with that thought, he let out a long exhale, straightened himself, and got back to work.

  —————————

  Midterms aren't as stressful as the final exams, so professors don't bother wracking their brains to make anything fancy and just patch together bits and pieces from past tests based on what was taught that semester.

  Maverick did the same as well, and didn't go out of his way to make anything unique for any of the five grades he taught. As for the practicals, he kept it simple too—just a repeat of an exercise they had already done in class—and the students completed it all with ease.

  And just like that, with time slipping away like water through your fingers, the last week of term was gone as well before anyone even noticed. All things considered, Quidditch was probably the only thing that made the semester feel exciting—otherwise, it was just classes, hanging out, and more classes.

  Sure, a few soul-sucking demons—the Dementors—still flew overhead, but even that couldn't change the fact that this semester had been pretty uneventful. By Hogwarts' standards, that is.

  Usually, there would be some attack on a student or a professor, and this year, a certain "dangerous" fugitive was supposed to break into the castle—but nothing of the sort happened.

  Basically, it was just a normal ending to a normal semester, the kind one would see at any other school.

  ---

  Outside, the Scottish December air hovered just above freezing, and a fresh layer of snow covered the grounds. The very next morning after midterms, the castle was alive with movement—students dragging or floating their trunks toward Hogsmeade Station, their paths carving thin trails through the white.

  Of course, not everyone left. Some stayed behind to spend the holidays at Hogwarts. It happens every year—usually Muggle-born first-years too enchanted by magic to part with it, even for a week or two. Then there were those with no home to return to, a quieter group who found the castle warmer than anywhere else.

  For the last two years, Harry Potter had been part of that group, choosing Christmas at Hogwarts over the Dursleys' cold welcome. But this year, and different from how the original story went, he had decided to go back to Privet Drive. Or at least… that's what it looked like.

  Knock.

  Knock. Knock.

  After breakfast that day, while the rest of the castle bustled with students packing their things for the holiday, Harry made his way to Maverick's office before heading to the train.

  Not long after he knocked, the door opened to reveal his professor at the desk, buried in papers, and another person across from him on the sofa, comfortably reading a book. It was an acquaintance, and it didn't take Harry long to realise why Jean would be here today. Unlike everyone else, she would have to go to another continent, and the Hogwarts Express only had one stop.

  The two Gryffindors met eyes, and she set the book down, asking, "Harry? You aren't going back home?"

  "Uh… I am…" Harry hesitated, wondering whether to say what he had come for with her there. He glanced at Maverick, who had just set down his pen and raised an eyebrow in his direction.

  "What brings you here, Mr. Potter?"

  Harry thought for a moment and decided to be straightforward, since he wasn't sure he would get another chance to see Maverick before the break. "Professor, I just wanted to let you know I won't be in the castle during the holidays…"

  "Oh…" Maverick leaned back and smiled. "Did you miss Dudley or something?"

  "No… Merlin, no..." Harry shook his head quickly. "It's about… you know…" He trailed off, glancing at Jean, though Maverick had already read the surface of his thoughts.

  Harry was mainly worried about missing Sirius Black's trial, and to his credit, it was clever of him to realize that staying at school might make getting to the Wizengamot more complicated. But if he was at home, he could just go—no professors to inform, no annoying questions to answer.

  And what he really wanted was to remind Maverick to pick him up—because even if he managed to get to the Ministry, what could he, a little teenager, do after that?

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Right… you don't have to worry," Maverick said, nodding to show he understood. "Go on before the train leaves. I'll pick you up from the Dursleys when the day comes."

  Harry's eyes lit up, and he nodded. With his purpose taken care of and after wishing Jean a good holiday, he didn't linger any longer and left just as quickly to join his buddies.

  "Professor…"

  As soon as the door closed, Jean looked at him eagerly, sensing it might be something exciting, and she obviously wanted to tag along.

  But Maverick raised a hand and stopped the girl before she could say anything else.

  "It's something to do with Harry's family—a personal matter of his, Jean," he said straightforwardly, his expression serious.

  Fortunately, she was smart enough and at the mention of a family matter, she didn't press further.

  "Right… let's get you home then." Saying that, Maverick rose from his seat, walked around the desk, and beckoned her to follow as he headed toward the fireplace.

  "Remember… no magic outside of school," he reminded her with a smile. "I'll pick you up again after the holidays." Then with a flash of green, the two of them vanished from the room.

  ---

  While Hogwarts itself had gone through the week without so much as a ripple, outside—in public and behind the scenes—the past seven days had been anything but quiet. Because of the interview Lord Greengrass had with the press, the Ministry was thrown into frenzy, with both the press and the public clamoring for answers.

  Cornelius Fudge was obviously not happy, and to make things even worse for him, Lord Greengrass went around him and took the matter straight to the Wizengamot, pushing for a public trial for Sirius Black.

  The Minister and the Wizengamot were basically the two main powers running Britain's magical government. Fudge had more individual control over what happened inside the Ministry, sure, but the Wizengamot—if they got enough votes—could easily override him. In other words, anything the Minister decided could be vetoed with enough signatures, and just as easily, decisions could happen without him even knowing.

  Needless to say, Fudge did everything he could to get in Jameson's way. But before Lord Greengrass could start flexing the votes to bypass him, he got a message from Maverick with a smarter idea. So, he decided to take the gamble and meet Cornelius face to face.

  He laid it all out for the fat man—proofs, moving pictures, even a memory Sirius had set up according to the script—everything showing not just that he was in contact with Black, but more importantly, that Peter Pettigrew, the supposedly dead one, was very much alive and right there with Black himself.

  Fudge, naturally, argued every point and even threatened to use the law against him for withholding crucial information about a fugitive. But then Lord Greengrass hinted that a public trial might actually work in Fudge's favor, the man finally sat up and started paying attention.

  It was just as Maverick had guessed, the foolish minister was easy to manipulate—just hint that it could make him look good, and he was hooked.

  Lord Greengrass painted him a beautiful picture: Sirius Black's imprisonment without a trial wasn't Fudge's fault, and it was his predecessor's mess. Fudge could step in, right the wrong, take the credit for finally bringing justice to a man who had been robbed of it for over a decade, and on top of that, get a nice little boost to his reputation.

  The idea hit Fudge like a sweet dessert he didn't have to bake himself. The man got hooked immediately and, without thinking twice, even went out of his way to make the announcement himself.

  And so, the very next day after Christmas break began, breaking news spread across the country. Cornelius Fudge, looking every inch the Minister for Magic, announced that Sirius Black would finally get a public trial, making sure to point out that he had been deprived of one by the previous administration. He spoke with such fervor and self-righteous emotion that even skeptics could feel it.

  The Minister for Magic looked into the camera with firm eyes and, at the end of the press conference, turned his words to Sirius Black directly, urging him to be present on the day and promising that, as the highest authority, he would do everything he could to see justice done.

  To be fair, the man's acting skills were impressive. People were swayed, and his tarnished reputation even started to recover. Fudge, of course, was more than pleased, and he even handed a few 'good guy' points to Lord Greengrass for the excellent opportunity.

  ---

  Back in the present, after dropping Jean off in the United States, Maverick returned to Hogwarts the very same day and headed straight for the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore and McGonagall were both there, and Maverick wasted no time, asking for an update on the matter they had discussed weeks ago.

  The old man reassured him not to worry, promising his full support, and asked Maverick for an update from his side as well. Maverick gave a quick rundown too, adding casually that everything was falling into place, and that the press would be all over it soon enough.

  The two old foxes and the young fox talked some more before Maverick left, choosing not to linger longer inside the office. He saw the mountain of paperwork Dumbledore and McGonagall were going through and didn't want to be scammed by the scheming old things. And it was the right call, because as soon as they saw him, they thought to dump some of the work on him, but fortunately Maverick bailed in time.

  With that taken care of, Maverick headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, found Lupin, and together they left Hogwarts once more. A blink later, they were somewhere north of London, ready to meet the person who would be the center of all the chaos that week.

  —————————

  North London.

  The night sky was buried under thick gray clouds, and a damp chill clung to the air as though the whole city had been smothered beneath a wet blanket. The streets were silent, and a thin layer of snow coated the roads and rooftops, catching the glow of the streetlamps and making everything sparkle just a little.

  On a quiet pavement, two figures suddenly came into view, black coats swaying with each step as they walked toward a modest house wedged between others. Without a word or a knock, they slipped inside, almost like they were expected.

  Inside, warmth greeted them. A fire crackled faintly in the hearth, and two men sat in the living room with steaming cups in their hands. They had been mid-conversation, but the sound of the door swinging open pulled their attention, and both rose at once when they saw who it was.

  "Leader…" one of them greeted respectfully.

  It was Sirius Black, and beside him sat Lord Greengrass. The newcomers were Maverick and Lupin, come to join them.

  "How was your talk with Fudge, Jameson?" Maverick asked as he and Lupin settled into the empty seats.

  Lord Greengrass allowed himself a thin smile. "It went well. Just like you predicted, once I nudged the conversation toward how it might polish his reputation, he agreed without a second thought... even said he'd go to the press himself."

  Maverick leaned back in his chair, a slight curve tugging at his mouth. "Naturally. The man's brain shuts down the moment something sounds good for his reputation. Let me guess—he didn't even bother asking why you were helping him?"

  "No. Not a word."

  Chuckling, Maverick shook his head. How in Merlin's name had that fat man ever been appointed? Of course, he knew the answer—it wasn't hard to trace. He was only amused, recalling how the man's character had changed after coming into power.

  Cornelius Fudge was no firebrand, no visionary. He was a pure bureaucrat, and that made him the safest choice after Voldemort's supposed downfall, when wizarding Britain craved nothing more than normalcy, comfort, and stability. Affable, genial, harmless even—with promises of quiet days ahead—he had seemed the perfect administrator. And that, weirdly enough, was how he got the job.

  But the most important detail in his rise to power was Albus Dumbledore, who had been offered the post first His refusal—and quiet endorsement of Fudge—carried enormous weight with the Wizengamot. In his early years, Fudge leaned on Dumbledore constantly, almost deferential, knowing full well his authority rested on the old wizard's support.

  Ironic, Maverick thought, that the man now feared Dumbledore most, convinced the old wizard was after his seat, forgetting it was Dumbledore who put him there in the first place.

  "So when's our blundering excuse for a minister planning to show his face?" Sirius asked after a short silence.

  "This week, if not sooner," Lord Greengrass replied after a measured pause. "Cornelius is very eager to see it pushed through quickly, so it could be tomorrow even. And I would not be surprised if he fixed the trial date in the same breath."

  "That's good," Maverick said, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest when another thought came to him. "What about Bones and Scrimgeour?"

  "They've been briefed on everything," Jameson replied. Then, turning to Black, he continued, "Once Fudge makes the announcement and sets the trial, you will surrender yourself to the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. I shall mediate, of course, and together we will appear before the Wizengamot promptly." He paused, then added, "And naturally, Pettigrew will be coming with us."

  The four of them kept talking, ironing out the details of the days ahead. When it was finally settled, Maverick rose to leave, while Lupin remained behind. This time he wasn't heading to Hogwarts but home. It was the holidays, after all, and he was looking forward to time with his family.

  The very next day, just as Greengrass had predicted, Fudge appeared before the press. He put on his usual dramatic show of bluster, first addressing the ongoing buzz about the country's most wanted fugitive, then boldly announcing—much to everyone's surprise—that he had personally taken the initiative to schedule a public trial for Black. "If he is truly innocent, let him appear before the Wizengamot and prove it," Fudge declared. And in a show of false generosity, he added that Black would not be apprehended unless the court found him guilty.

  Honestly, even Maverick wasn't expecting that last part. He had prepared contingencies in case Black was taken to Azkaban the moment he turned himself in, which was why he involved Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

  With Scrimgeour on their side and Lord Greengrass—a faction leader in the Wizengamot and the Ministry's top law enforcement official—any sudden order from Fudge to apprehend Black or cancel the trial could be stalled without anyone needing to point fingers. The plan wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep Fudge from acting unpredictably. But after that bold announcement from Fudge himself, things should play out more smoothly than anticipated.

  Anyway, whether or not that broke half the laws in the book, Fudge didn't seem to care. The British Ministry wasn't exactly known for clean separation of power. The Wizengamot played judge, jury, and council all at once, and the laws they had, while functional, were far from airtight. Even if half the country believed Fudge was abusing his authority, the gaps in the system left him pretty safe. Of course, that was assuming everything went according to plan.

  He was hell-bent on going all in, convinced that no matter the outcome, he would come out ahead. If Black was guilty, Fudge would be hailed as the hero who brought him to justice. If he was innocent, he would still claim credit for clearing his name. His gamble was simple. Sirius Black had to show up, and whatever happened, Fudge would declare himself the winner.

  He was desperate now, his reputation already dragging through the mud after all the reckless blunders he had made this year. What he needed was something big and loud enough to pull himself back up, which was exactly why Lord Greengrass was able to convince him so easily.

  Poor Fudge. He couldn't even see that he was digging the very pit that would bury him.

  Time passed slowly after that. Christmas arrived with its crisp air and glittering snow, rooftops frosted white and streets lined with glowing lanterns. Maverick spent the holidays with his family and Isabella, enjoying the bit of peace before the ruckus that awaited the next day.

  ---

  In the morning, golden sunlight strolled lazily over the city, a rare Christmas gift, making the snow sparkle on rooftops and tree branches while the crisp air shimmered with a strange kind of warmth that made everything feel almost magical. After a night of Christmas festivities, the lively youth were heading home, laughing and brushing off the cold, while the middle-aged residents left the comfort of their warm beds, straightening their clothes and getting ready for the busy holiday day.

  "Is this the Ministry of Magic?"

  Harry's eyes wandered over the street, taking in the drab office buildings on either side, the long-shuttered shops, and the dilapidated taverns. He glanced at his professor beside him, frowning. Nothing here screamed "powerful government office" or "big country ministry." If this was the Ministry of Magic, Harry thought, it had a very strange sense of style.

  Maverick chuckled as he caught the surface thoughts of the kid. To be fair, there really were no imposing buildings here, at least not by ordinary standards. But, of course, this was the Ministry of Magic, and without a touch of magic, how could a building belonging to the country's highest magical authority be visible.

  "Come—"

  He didn't explain anything and just walked on, guiding Harry toward a dilapidated looking red telephone booth. The paint was peeling in large patches, most of the glass on three sides was shattered, and the only receiver inside dangled awkwardly, as if someone had yanked it half off.

  "Uh… Professor?" Harry asked again, eyes fixed on the battered telephone booth. He frowned. "Don't you own that big mobile phone company? What are we doing here… making a call from a telephone booth?"

  Sigh…

  "Just follow my lead, Potter. "

  Maverick said after a long breath. Honestly, he wondered and really couldn't figure out whose bright idea it had been to put the Ministry's general entrance here, or why this had to be the way in. Sure, there were easier ways to access the Ministry, like the Floo Network, but Maverick wanted to show Potter this route—it was the boy's first time here, after all.

  He pushed open the chipped door of the booth, and Harry followed hesitantly. Inside, the space was cramped and smelled faintly of dust.

  "Let's see… 739244."

  Maverick lifted the receiver and dialed, listening to the click and hum of the line before a woman's voice immediately crackled through.

  "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

  "Maverick Caesar, and Harry James Potter," he replied. "We're here to attend the public hearing of Sirius Black."

  For some reason, magicals seemed to have a thing for putting all their important institutions underground—whether it was the Ministry, goblin banks, or even the underworld, everything was buried deep beneath the earth. And the ways in were just as terrible.

  After giving their names, there was a soft whoosh, and the booth seemed to sway slightly. Before Harry could even react, the ground beneath them gave way, and the city above vanished. Within moments, the telephone booth had vanished entirely, leaving them standing in a brightly lit, bustling atrium filled with magical portraits, busy witches and wizards, and the unmistakable hum of activity.

  —————————

  Author's Note:

  You can find this story on Webnovel, Fanfiction, and ScribbleHub, all under the same author name: RyanFic. Updates drop first on Webnovel!

  Thank you so much for your support. It means the world! ????