London was draped in its usual moody grey, the kind that made everything seem a little sleepier than it really was this time of year. A thin mist clung to the rooftops, and a breeze drifted through the streets—not quite cold, but just brisk enough to suggest that summer had packed up and was ready to leave.

And hundreds of metres above the city, flickers of orange light suddenly began to shimmer against the clouds. They danced for a second, then spun together into a perfect circle, growing larger and larger until it stretched dozens of metres across.

It was clearly a portal... a big one, easily wide enough for something large to pass through.

From within, a young man emerged, looking small against the vast opening—and he didn't exactly step out. He floated slowly, his back to the open sky, eyes locked on the glowing portal as if in deep concentration—like he was carefully guiding something through.

Moments later, something big did follow—a fighter jet of some sort, drifting forward without any engine noise or thrust. From the looks of it, it was the young man who was controlling it, guiding it through by some means that was anything but scientific.

Once the machine was fully through, the massive portal began to shrink—slowly at first, then faster—until it vanished entirely. Moments later, the young man disappeared as well, leaving behind only a soft hum in the air.

---

Inside the aircraft, the space was cramped and clearly not designed for comfort. The cockpit held just two seats, and behind them was a small area barely big enough to stand and move about. Dark panels lined the walls, while soft strips of light ran overhead, casting a muted glow over the cabin.

Howard Stark sat hunched in one of the narrow cockpit seats, staring out through the sloped glass with a look caught somewhere between nervous anticipation and quiet excitement.

He was about to go to space, after all—and although he had seen and experienced his fair share of extraordinary things, this was definitely the pinnacle. What's more, he wasn't about to take off in a rocket or shuttle, but in a way he never imagined would be possible.

A soft snap echoed behind him, and when he turned his head, he saw his soon-to-be fellow astronaut appear out of thin air, stepping neatly into the narrow space at the rear of the cabin.

"All right, do your thing," he muttered, trying for casual, but his fingers had tightened around the armrests before he even noticed. Excitement was there, certainly, but so was the unmistakable edge of nerves. This was no ordinary journey, after all.

"Buckle up, Stark. Don't say I didn't tell you to stay behind for this," Maverick told the man while rolling his shoulders once before closing his eyes and channeling his magic.

Even for an Archmage, this would be no easy feat—pushing a machine weighing several tons tens of thousands of metres into the air to escape the planet's pull.

Moments later, the aircraft began to rise—straight up, without tilt or sway—climbing higher and higher without pause. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on ɴo(v)elFɪre.ɴet

A thousand meters.

Five thousand.

Fifteen.

Time seemed to pass especially slowly during this time, as the cabin creaked under pressure and the wind outside screamed past the jet. Howard sat at his station, watching the readings closely while Maverick handled the heavy lifting.

"What's our altitude?" Maverick called out. He was really starting to feel the drag now—magic pulling like a tide against him, far heavier than he had anticipated.

"Not even close!" Howard shouted back, his voice gruff for a man who was only sitting. While he wasn't channeling anything that would cost him stamina, the G-force was pressing down hard, flattening him against his seat like an invisible hand. "Still under twenty!"

Half an hour had passed. Then another. The machine's ascent hadn't slowed, but since this was no conventional launch, it wasn't nearly as fast as a rocket racing to escape velocity.

The commonly accepted boundary between Earth's atmosphere and space—the Kármán line—lay roughly a hundred kilometers above sea level. At that altitude, the air thinned to the point where ordinary aircraft could no longer depend on lift, and anything hoping to stay aloft had to follow the rules of spaceflight.

Luckily, they didn't need to reach escape velocity. Not yet atleast. As long as Maverick maintained his hold, the aircraft wouldn't fall, even if it stopped climbing altogether. Still, making it to a hundred kilometers—high enough for the thrusters to take over—was putting a tremendous strain on Maverick's magic.

"A bit further, boss man. We're now over ninety thousand meters..." Howard was fiddling with the controls, his hands moving quickly while also relaying instructions to the team back at the lab, making final preparations to launch the engines.

At the same time, Maverick was nearing his limit. His reserves were thinning fast, and for the first time in a while, he found himself questioning just how impressive the rank of Archmage really was.

At this rate, he would have to dip into his system points to restore some of his magical energy, something he preferred to avoid unless absolutely necessary.

"Ninety-three thousand... Ninety-four—"

"—Activating the anchoring runes to simulate gravity..."

Maverick could only grit his teeth and push, channeling his magic even harder as the tech genius continued announcing one thing after another. His only job was to lift, and right now, he was pretty much pouring everything he had left into the final stretch of their ascent.

"Ninety-eight thousand... just a little bit more..." Howard had his hand over the ignition button ready to press at any moment, while his eyes stayed fixed on the steadily rising numbers.

"T minus seven..."

"T minus five..."

"Three... two..."

Taking a long inhale, Howard decisively pressed the buttons as soon as the indicator reached the target altitude.

"We're burning fuel. All indicators are green..."

A deep hum vibrated through the aircraft as the systems roared to life, and from the back of the jet—or perhaps now it should be called a spacecraft—the twin engines began to light up.

"Just a bit longer... wait till I thrust..." Howard continued to announce each step he was making to Maverick and the team listening to him back at the lab.

Finally, they felt a movement that was unmistakably mechanical as the craft jolted forward—slow at first—and knew it was almost over.

"500 meters per second..."

"One kilometer per second..."

With no air resistance to hold the spacecraft back, the powerful engines—designed from the best that science and magical alchemy could offer—began accelerating the machine rapidly.

"Five..."

"Ten..."

Finally—when the velocity reached 11.2 kilometers per second…

"We've hit escape velocity, Caesar. You can pull your magic back now."

As soon as Maverick heard him, he released the enormous burden without a second thought and collapsed onto the metal floor on all fours, gasping for breath.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so drained—not even his duel with Morvain had pushed him this far. Carrying this thing into space for nearly two hours straight had almost completely emptied his stamina.

Lifting his head slightly, he saw Howard still fiddling with the controls. Beyond the man's shoulder, there was… nothing. Or rather, it was all black.

After saying something into the comms, Howard finally turned to glance over his shoulder, while Maverick—now having caught his breath—walked up to the front of the cockpit and looked out through the sloped glass for the first time.

Ahead was nothing but black. But off to the side, he saw the blue planet in all its glory. He figured this scene would definitely make for an upgrade the next time he gave the introductory lecture in the Muggle Science class.

"We're officially astronauts, boss man…" Howard grinned, unbuckling his seat. The tech genius beamed at the young man who looked like he had just finished the most punishing workout of his life.

"So we are…" Maverick said, and a pleased smile tugged at his lips.

The space jet had its course pre-programmed. First, it would make a few orbits around the planet to test systems—communications, propulsion, navigation—make any necessary adjustments, and only then would it slingshot toward its destination.

The two men walked to the side viewport where they could see the blue planet hanging in the void. For a moment, they simply admired it in silence.

"Are you sure no one's going to pick us up on their radar?" Howard asked, glancing sideways.

"Yes. No current-age technology can detect us. We're invisible to both radar and the naked eye, even telescopes."

Another moment passed in silence before Howard spoke again.

"When are we going back?"

Maverick chuckled. It hadn't even been ten minutes, and the man already sounded impatient. He wondered—if there hadn't been an option to return during the journey, would Howard have even agreed to board the ship?

"Why? You don't want to enjoy the view a little longer? You do realize, out of eight billion people, not even a handful will ever experience something like this... or how about bringing Maria up here before the jet begins its real course toward the Red Planet?"

That suggestion made Howard's eyes light up with genuine interest.

"You know what… that's actually not a bad idea at all."

Maverick laughed again. The scenery would remain like this for a few more hours, and he had promises to keep in the meantime.

The team below—though small—was made up of people who mattered. Each of them deserved to witness this moment. He wanted to bring them aboard, even if just for a brief look at the beauty of space.

"Right then… let's go back."

Moments later, both men stepped out of a portal, returning to the underground base where their team had been waiting. Cheers erupted the second they appeared, filling the chamber in celebration of a successful mission.

But this was only the beginning. The journey ahead would last somewhere between three to five months. Only at its end would they reach the true goal of all this effort.

Over the next few hours, Maverick made several more trips—first taking Bucky, then the rest of the team, two by two—to see Earth from above, technically making each of them astronauts.

It didn't take twenty-four hours to make a full rotation—only around two—so each party had just a short moment to experience the wonder.

Howard somehow managed to convince his wife to make the trip as well, and Maverick took the couple aboard before the ship completed its final orbits around Earth.

Then, for the last trip, Maverick went and picked up Isabella. It would have been a sin for her to miss something like this, so he spent a few hours with her admiring the scenery—a quiet, romantic gesture for his soon-to-be wife.

He would never admit that anything of the sort happened between them that would omit thousands of words. It was, and only was, purely a romantic move on his part.

In the end, everyone was left happy.

And Maverick, especially—because this was just the beginning, a big step toward his final goal.

Meanwhile, the team would continue to monitor the aircraft throughout its journey. Maverick left the technical concerns in their capable hands. For now, his role was done. He was practically just the muscle, and frankly, he didn't want to worry about the details when someone like Howard was at the helm.

If anything came up, they would call him.

Until then, he returned—once more—back to Hogwarts.

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Author's Note:

This was a difficult chapter to write. I hope it was okay. I really tried my best to bring to life what was in my head... played around with the ideas may be a bit too much and… sigh…

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