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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 183 - Eyes on the Rising Star (III)
🕑 Added 2025-06-13 18:07:43 +0000 UTCJust as the rest of the world buzzed with reactions to the sudden rise of a new Archmage, the news eventually made its way into the ancient halls of Hogwarts as well.
Although Dumbledore, McGonagall, or Flitwick made no grand announcement, by lunchtime—on the very same day the headlines hit the wizarding papers—the news had already spread like wildfire. Somehow, it landed in the hands of the students, and by then, the whole castle was practically crackling with gossip.
Students whispered about it in the corridors, speculated wildly over breakfast, and tried to squeeze answers out of their teachers. But of course, no one was pestered more than the man at the centre of it all.
The teachers were calmer—or at least, they appeared to be. Well, except for Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick. They had known before anyone else, even before the news broke publicly. It was Maverick’s request that they stand with him at the ICW during his inauguration.
The three of them had gladly accepted. Then again, Maverick was pretty sure they would have tagged along even if he hadn’t asked. After all, he was part of the Hogwarts staff now.
And for Dumbledore and McGonagall, who treated the castle like their most sacred ground, having an Archmage on staff was a big deal. It meant prestige, respect, and a serious boost to the school’s name.
But that wasn’t the only reason. Over the past two years, Maverick’s relationship with them had grown into something beyond just professional courtesy. They could be called good friends now. And they weren’t fools either.
Though none of them said it out loud, they understood why he had asked them to be by his side. It was clearly meant to send a message. What kind of message, exactly—they didn’t know, and frankly, they didn’t care.
For several days, every lesson Maverick tried to teach was hijacked by a flood of questions from curious little witches and wizards, all desperate to know more about his promotion to Archmage. It was a bit strange, honestly—after all, the school already had one. And not just any Archmage, but arguably the most powerful one alive.
But Dumbledore had been keeping his head down for too long. Tied up in Ministry red tape, playing nice with the system. It got to the point where even some nobody, half-baked politician felt bold enough to push him around. The legend he built during the war—facing down Grindelwald, standing tall—had slowly faded from the public’s memory.
That’s just how people are. When you’re on top, they worship the ground you walk on. But the moment you stop flexing your strength, they go cold. They lose interest. Some even start to despise you.
It started with politicians sneering behind closed doors. Then the public followed. And now, the younger generation is picking up the same attitude their parents carried.
Especially now—when it’s no secret something’s wrong with the old wizard. Everyone at the top knows his time is running out. No one’s bold enough to say it to his face, but behind the scenes, there’s a quiet campaign underway—a slow, careful push to knock the old man off his throne.
And Dumbledore wasn’t some clueless relic, either. He saw it all, knew exactly what was happening. This was the same man once called the wisest of the age. But for some stubborn reason—maybe pride, maybe some twisted sense of principle—he never fought back. Never shut down the whispers, never played the game.
And because of that, even though the unofficial title of most powerful wizard alive and all that was still his, the weight behind it—the fear, the respect, the sense of deterrence—was pretty much gone.
Even Flitwick and McGonagall had more of a deterrent effect than Dumbledore. They might not hold the rank of Archmage, but being Greatmages still made them true powerhouses in the public eye.
After all, with the power to easily crush mages below their rank, a Greatmage was essentially a one-person army. For any country fortunate enough to have even one, it meant they could not be easily bullied or coerced by others.
Of course, not all Greatmages were nationalist saints devoted to their homeland. Many followed their own interests, and some had loyalties that changed like the wind. Still, in today’s civilized world, a government gained undeniable advantages by having one on its side.
It was a simple understanding — you scratch my back, I scratch yours. That was why any Greatmage held extremely high status in whatever magical country they chose to reside in. As long as someone of that rank was not out there blatantly breaking the law like a lunatic, magical Ministries would simply look the other way.
And now that the highest governing authority of the magical world had officially recognized Maverick as the current pinnacle of power—above even Greatmages—he had become the single greatest deterrent force in all of Britain.
Dumbledore might still be around, but the truth was, nobody really took him seriously anymore.
Aside from the endless curiosity, Maverick could clearly see the awe in everyone's eyes—the admiration, the silent reverence. Even his fellow professors looked at him differently now. Well, except for the few he was genuinely close to.
Others, like Snape, barely dared to meet his eyes. The poor old bat had likely come to regret acting so presumptuously during Maverick’s early days at Hogwarts. Not that Maverick cared anymore.
He had made an effort in the beginning—despite the tension between them—to connect with Snape, at least as colleagues, like civil adults. But nothing changed.
Maybe it was Maverick’s age. Maybe Snape just could not stand the idea of someone so younger being more powerful, more respected. But really, what kind of pathetic excuse was that?
Nonetheless, Snape was still the same bitter man-child he had always been—arrogant, spiteful, walking around as if the world owed him a cauldron full of basilisk venom.
Maverick had long given up on him. He had stopped trying to understand the man—despite Snape having been one of his favourite characters in the Harry Potter universe in his previous life.
But this was not a story anymore.
If Snape ever decided to change, well, good for him. But for now, he was nothing more than an extra lurking in the background. Irrelevant to Maverick’s grand plans.
As for the students, their change was the most noticeable—especially among the pure-bloods. Their parents had probably wasted no time sending letters packed with warnings: Do not get on his bad side. Stay in his good graces. Always be respectful.
And it showed.
Maverick had already been one of the most popular teachers in all of Hogwarts. But now, even the most unruly and arrogant pure-bloods sat up straighter in class, showed proper respect when passing him in the corridors, and chose their words more carefully whenever they spoke to him.
Maverick was not particularly bothered by the attention. Being a renowned alchemist and a steadily rising businessman, he had grown used to life in the spotlight. It was inevitable, really—after all, this was the single most significant event to shake the magical world since the end of the Second World War.
He answered what questions he could, deflected the rest with a smile, and carried on as if nothing had changed.
Time moved on, as it always did.
One month after being sworn in as an ICW Speaker, the World Security Council—the only organization in the world with greater global authority than the ICW—voted to elect him as a High Councilor to their Assembly.
The World Security Council consisted of 195 rotating seats, each one representing a nation and held by that nation’s highest authority. But High Councilors were different. Their positions were semi-permanent and far more influential. Two each came from North America, South America, the European Union, and the Arab League. Three were selected from across the Asian continent. And finally, the ICW Speakers held the remaining seats for the magical world.
Their votes counted for far more than ordinary Councilors', and their authority in the decision-making processes of the organization was undeniable.
Naturally, the privileges that came with such a role were considerable. In addition to his already flexible status as Her Majesty’s magical representative, Maverick was now afforded diplomatic standing equal to that of any global head of state.
However, unlike the ICW—whose decisions made ripples in every corner of the wizarding world—the World Security Council operated more like an open secret among global leadership. As such, Maverick’s appointment made no major waves in the public eye. But he did not care about that.
On the day of his inauguration, he was accompanied by his teacher Edward, his father—who was already a sitting Councilor—and, to his surprise, the Queen herself. Another unexpected attendee was Peggy Carter, apparently an old friend of Her Majesty.
It was also worth noting that the Queen made no attempt whatsoever to hide her pride in Maverick’s position as the ultimate defense of the United Kingdom. Maverick, for his part, did not protest. After all, his father was the highest political authority in her government. So he simply let her boast to her heart’s content.
Besides meeting several political leaders, he also crossed paths with a few familiar names from the Marvel universe. Alexander Pierce, who was currently the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and, of course, his eventual successor—the MF, Nick Fury himself.
But it was only a brief meeting, little more than a formal introduction. Now, as a newly appointed High Councilor, Maverick held high-level clearance within S.H.I.E.L.D. as well.
All in all, ever since announcing himself as an Archmage and registering with the ICW, doors had opened for him all over the globe—one after the other.
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April drifted by in a blur of cherry blossoms and warming skies, and by the time May arrived, life at Hogwarts had more or less returned to normal. As with every piece of explosive news, the buzz surrounding Maverick’s breakthrough to Archmage eventually faded into the background hum of castle gossip.
The whispers in the corridors quieted, the eager chatter in the Great Hall and common rooms died down, and the barrage of questions in every class dwindled into silence.
Aside from the quiet, respectful looks he still received from students and staff alike, school life had returned to its familiar rhythm.
Maverick’s days returned to normal as well—teaching his classes, exploring the hidden chambers of Hogwarts, and continuing his quiet investigations into the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Lost Things. Things had finally settled.
Now, apart from the usual responsibilities, he was also preparing for the final match of the Interschool Quidditch Tournament, set to take place at the end of May.
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Author's Note:
I’m sure you’ve already noticed some inconsistencies between the lore of the Marvel World Security Council and how it works in this fic. This is an AU, a mashup of different universes... so naturally, there had to be some changes. I hope you all understand.
More detailed interactions will come later... maybe even some flashbacks... but right now, I just want to wrap up this school year, since nothing major from canon is expected. The next two years are when things will really start heating up.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that it didn’t feel rushed. Please share your thoughts or feedback... it really helps.
And as always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the amazing support.
