Harry Potter: Bloodraven

Author's Note:

This is an experiment—a survey to gather your feedback. For this release, I'm sharing the short arc, Revelation, with all its chapters at once.

Going forward, I'm considering two approaches: releasing chapters individually on a set schedule or continuing to publish entire arcs at once, like this.

I know this arc is short—just over 6,000 words—but don't worry. The rest of the arcs are all at least 10,000 words. That's a promise.

Your input is crucial to help me decide. Please share your preference by leaving a comment at the end of the final chapter.

The next update is scheduled for one week from now.

With that, I hope you enjoy the second arc, Revelation.

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Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, two weeks had passed as Maverick adjusted to his new rank.

He woke up in the morning, stretched his muscles, and went through his usual routine before leaving his room and heading down to the bar.

In contrast to the comfort and cleanliness of the guest rooms, the bar remained dim, somewhat dirty, and plain.

"Maverick, how are your studies on Muggles going?" Tom greeted him as he came down.

"Doing quite well, actually. It's an interesting subject," Maverick replied with a faint smile.

Tom had repeated the same question countless times over the past six months. By now, Maverick was used to it and didn't bother commenting on the peculiar behavior as he settled into one of the long tables.

"I'll take a steak and a cup of tea, if you don't mind," he said casually, glancing at the man while placing his order.

It could be said that he was now quite familiar with Tom, as well as the regulars who frequented the pub. All of them were aware of his keen interest in studying Muggle society—or rather, it was the story he had led them to believe.

He finished his breakfast and, once again, approached the humpbacked man. "Mr. Tom, I'll be away for a few days and just wanted to let you know."

He wasn't obliged to inform him, but having already paid for the room for the entire year, he didn't want anyone else occupying it during his short absence.

"Don't worry, young man," Tom replied kindly. "The room is yours for the next six months, even if you're not back by then."

Maverick nodded with a smile, glad he didn't have to go into more detail.

"Right, then... see you in a few days." He waved and walked out, carrying only a small pouch, which contained several other bags enchanted with extension spells.

As he walked down the street, he mulled over how the upcoming conversation with his parents might go.

That's right—he was about to reveal his wizarding identity to them today.

One reason was that he would be away from home intermittently, making it difficult for his parents to reach him, if everything went according to plan. Moreover, his parents weren't exactly ordinary people. They held respected positions, and if they thought he had gone missing, it could lead to unnecessary complications.

His father, the current Prime Minister, would likely turn all of Britain upside down searching for him. His face and name would be everywhere—exactly the kind of attention he wanted to avoid.

In the past six months, Maverick had visited home a few times, mainly to show his face and explain why he had quit his job—a position his parents had helped him secure. His explanation was simple: he had found another career path. Fortunately, his parents didn't press for more details.

The second reason he was planning to reveal his secret was that he believed his father, given his position, should be aware of the magical world. With his help, Maverick hoped to legitimize his wizarding identity, and a plan was already in place to make it happen.

...

On the southeast side of London, on Westminster Bridge Road, about a minute's walk from Lambeth North tube station, stood an elegant and exquisite two-story house. A taxi slowly pulled up and stopped by the roadside, and Maverick stepped out.

As he looked fixedly at his home, his thoughts drifted down memory lane, reflecting on his parents

They were quite wealthy, but most of it came from his mother's side. Originally American, she met his father during their university days, and after starting a relationship, she moved to the UK to build a life and start a family with him.

His mother's family ran a large newspaper agency called the World News Network, though he couldn't fully recall the name from his memories of his previous life. It vaguely resembled another name he remembered.

This world felt both familiar and different from the one he knew. He realized there were likely many more differences yet to uncover.

His parents married and moved to the UK, where his mother started a company in partnership with his father. While his mother managed the business, his father supported it as a shareholder. Over time, the company grew into one of the largest publishing firms in the UK, largely due to the influence of his mother's family.

His father entered politics shortly after his mother's business got started. When Maverick was born, his father was a Member of Parliament in the House of Commons.

Now, 18 years later, he had recently been appointed Prime Minister by royal prerogative.

His father was a skilled politician, rising to the top in just a short period with his sharp mind. As a result, the family formed connections with the royal family. Maverick had even met the Queen once when he was about six years old.

Now, with his father holding the trust of the House of Commons, those ties were likely even stronger.

(A/N: I am not British and know very little about British politics or their political hierarchy. Everything you just read—or may read in the future—about it might not align with reality. Remember, this is a fantasy world, and not everything has to be accurate. Some details I might have just made up on the spot, so please cut me some slack!)

...

Standing outside his house, Maverick reflected on the past and felt a bit nervous about the conversation he was about to have.

Taking out the key, he gently opened the door. The lights were on, which meant his parents—or at least one of them—were home.

"Michael, is that you?" a gentle female voice echoed from within the house.

Moments later, a beautiful woman in her thirties appeared, her blonde hair tied back and wearing an apron over a white shirt and blue jeans. She held a metallic bowl in one hand, stirring its contents with a wooden spoon.

"Ah! You're home, son. I thought it might be your father," Ariel, his mother exclaimed, a smile breaking across her face the moment she spotted him

"Hi, Mom..." Maverick said, shrugging off his black coat and hanging it on the stand. "Do you know when Dad will be home?"

"He should be back around seven," she replied, returning to stir the contents of the bowl.

"Need any help with that?" Maverick asked, leaning in to give her a quick hug.

"No, I'm fine, thanks. But how's the new job going?" she inquired, a warm smile brightening her face.

"Um... It's fine, really." He opened the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, taking a quick swig.

"You sure? You know you can always ask for help, right?"

Her tone was steady, but Maverick saw concern in her eyes.

"I admire your determination to chase your dreams on your own and gain experience. But remember, it's okay to lean on us when you need to. Your father and I are here for you. You should know that I wouldn't have gotten my business off the ground without my family's support."

Maverick listened, taken aback. 'Is that why they think I quit? I guess it makes sense. Maybe that's why they didn't ask for more details when I mentioned that I had a new career plan...'

"What do you mean, Mom? Of course I'd ask for help when I need it," he assured her.

"Ah..." His mom seemed momentarily at a loss for words, pausing her stirring. Then her expression shifted to one of pride and joy. "So... you found a job?"

Ariel felt a genuine happiness at the thought that her son had secured a job on his own, without asking for their help.

"Not exactly. Well, sort of…" Maverick replied, choosing his words carefully. "I wanted to talk to you both about something important."

"Important?" His mother's brow furrowed, curiosity piqued. Then, her eyes widened with sudden realization. "You didn't get a girl pregnant, did you?"

Poof!

Cough cough!

Maverick nearly spat out the water he was drinking, choking on the unexpected words that came out of nowhere.

He gave his mother a blank look. "What in God's name made you jump to that assumption?" he asked, trying to regain his composure. "No, I didn't get anyone pregnant. I don't even have a girlfriend," he added quickly, cutting off any further argument before it could start.

"Oh, thank God," she replied, visibly relieved.

"Really?" Maverick raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "I feel bad now... to think my own mother would think of me as some kind of scumbag."

"What? No! Hah..." His mother let out a nervous laugh, trying to mask her embarrassment. 

"So, what's this important thing you wanted to talk about?" she asked, swiftly changing the subject and smiling again.

"We'll talk when Dad gets back," he said, walking toward the living room. "I'll be in my room. Just call me when you're done baking whatever deliciousness you've got going on in there."

"Alright, mysterious man," she replied, chuckling as she returned to her cooking.

Several hours later, Maverick found himself sitting nervously in front of his parents. His father had returned right on time, just as his mother had mentioned. Before Maverick could come down to meet him, she had already explained their earlier conversation to his father.

Michael Caesar was a tall, handsome, middle-aged man with a strikingly attractive face, exuding a natural air of authority. His towering height, combined with his sharp features, gave him an imposing presence that perfectly matched his stature.

"Go on, son... What is it?" Noticing his son's nervousness, his father lent a helping hand by starting the conversation.

"Well... it's about why I've been away so often lately and why I left the job you found for me."

Seeing how anxious her son was, Ariel started to feel concerned. "Maverick, I'm beginning to worry..." she said, frowning slightly.

"I'm not in any trouble... Mother," he replied, trying to ease her worries, though inwardly he was a bit anxious himself.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Mum, Dad, I didn't quit the opportunity you got for me because I was unhappy or because I thought it was unethical to accept help from you. I left because... well, I've discovered something about myself. Something different."

"Oh God, no... Please don't tell me you're ga—"

Hearing his mother's interruption and realizing what she was about to say, Maverick cut her off. "Mother! You have some very strange ideas. I can assure you, I am 100% not gay!"

"Oh, thank God..." His mother let out an exasperated sigh of relief. Meanwhile, even though his father tried to maintain a poker face, Maverick sensed the momentary nervousness in his father's eyes shifting to relief.

"Ahem... As I was saying, I discovered something different about myself. I..." Maverick paused, glancing at his parents before continuing, "I'm a wizard."

There, he had finally said it. After revealing the truth, he felt an unexpected wave of relief.

There was a brief silence before his mother, the most talkative person in the family, broke it.

"A what? A wizard?" Her tone was more amused than confused.

At the same time, Maverick used his Magical Sense to observe his father's reaction. Sure enough, his father's expression immediately turned stern.

"That's right, a wizard. I have magic," Maverick added, leaning back on the sofa as if to show relief and a lazy confidence, waiting for his father to address the statement.

"Uh... dear, I think our son may have something wrong with his head," his mother said, the amusement fading from her face as she looked to her husband.

When she turned to him, she saw his expression was deadly serious.

"Mich-Michael?" she stammered. Rarely had she seen her husband look so grave, and it threw her off balance.

"Prove it," Michael finally said, addressing his laid-back son.

"Prove what?" Ariel asked, bewildered.

"Dear, please, just trust me on this."

"Oh God, my son and husband are both crazy!" Ariel exclaimed, covering her mouth. Her gaze darted between Maverick and Michael. Though she tried to sound exaggerated, neither of them paid her any attention now.

Maverick met his father's eyes and then reached for his wand.

As soon as Michael saw the wand, his eyes widened in disbelief. He was one of the few non-magicals who knew more about the existence of magic than most, and now he was almost entirely convinced that his son's confession was true.