The devastation spread across dozens of kilometers was not something that could be fixed in a short time, even with the strongest mages alive working together it would not be easy, and certainly not something that could be done in a single night. The Reparo spell, also known as the Mending or Repairing Charm, was a common piece of magic used to instantly mend broken or torn objects, seamlessly restoring them to their original condition, but it also came with its own limitations. Magical energy was, of course, the first and most obvious factor, as with any magic, where the scale and power of a spell, whether destructive or restorative, depended heavily on the caster and the depth of their magic. The second and more important factor for this particular spell, however, was a bit more special: Time. The rules governing restoration depended primarily on how much time had passed since the subject in question had first changed. Simply put, something left broken for too long could not be fully returned to what it once was, no matter how much power was poured into the attempt. At best, only a fraction of it could be reclaimed. Fortunately, in this particular case, not a great deal of time had passed. The duel with Grindelwald lasted barely an hour, and only another hour had gone by after that before restoration efforts began in earnest. The dark clouds that had gathered overhead during the height of the battle, stirred into being by the sheer violence of the magical energy released, had long since dispersed, leaving the half crescent moon bare against the sky, its pale light spilling down over the ruined landscape so that even in the depths of night the devastation remained clearly visible. Magic Vision carried the scene across the wizarding world in real time, and the Muggle world was no less captivated. Televisions across the country had become the focus of every household ever since the chaos began, with disbelief, awe, and no small measure of fear etched across the faces of those watching. Though the earth-shattering duel with Grindelwald had not been part of the original script, it served Maverick's true purpose rather well in the end. At the very least, it would stand as a clear message to the entire world, especially to those who might one day harbour less than friendly intentions toward the magical community once the two worlds had fully merged. They would do well to think twice before acting on them. Time passed slowly, and dawn eventually broke over the horizon. With four powerhouses working together, Maverick, Dumbledore, Olympe, and Edward, roughly a quarter of the devastation had been restored by sunrise, returning the ruined land to its original grassy hills and rolling fields. Somewhere during that period, the Muggle side also began to show movement, first, it was government helicopters taking to the skies, followed soon by the press sending up birds of their own to get a closer look. Before long, the skies over London and the southern region were filled with the constant roar of helicopter engines. In any case, sleep was the last thing on anyone's mind. Maverick did not particularly mind. If anything, he welcomed the press taking the initiative, well, as long as they kept their distance and did not interfere. The Muggle world watched in awe once more, witnessing the capabilities of this extraordinary group of people they had come to know overnight. They were not merely a force of destruction, but also one of creation. Moreover, seeing hills and valleys slowly reform from ruined wasteland slightly improved the way they viewed them. In the capital also, restoration efforts continued at a steady pace. The witches and wizards of the English magical government were well organized, dividing into teams and spreading across the city to deal with every kind of damage, from collapsed buildings to cracked windows and even damage within private homes. The people of London, initially filled with awe, shock, and confusion at the sight of robed figures wielding sticks in their streets, gradually came to accept what was happening. Even if they could not fully understand it, they at least knew these were the same people who had protected them not long ago. It wasn't rocket science. When someone was actively trying to get you out of a bad situation, does it really matter how they did it? As time passed, many people even began actively seeking them out, pointing toward smaller pockets of damage and asking, sometimes a little shyly, for help. It also helped that police and law enforcement officers were everywhere, working alongside the witches and wizards, which reassured the public that they, atleast, were not some rogue group acting outside legitimate authority. --- Thup-thup-thup-thup-thup-thup... The steady thrum of rotor blades cut through the early morning air as two helicopters slowly descended toward the South Downs, their dark green fuselages and gold detailing unmistakable to anyone in the country. They were heading toward one of the restored hills, not far from the crater where Grindelwald had crashed and ultimately met his end. Maverick had deliberately left that particular spot untouched, saving it for last, so that those who needed to see it could do so with their own eyes. At present, he stood with Dumbledore, Maxime, and Edward just outside a modest looking tent set up near the rim of the crater, watching as two helicopters made their final approach, the hems of their robes snapping and fluttering in the wind kicked up by the rotors. Not far away, several other tents were spread across the area as well, belonging to various news networks that arrived to cover the unfolding situation, and right now their cameras were all trained on the same distinctive aircraft belonging to the British royal family. The engines wound down gradually after landing, and the doors of both helicopters opened in near unison. From the first emerged several men in military uniform, moving with the brisk efficiency of trained personnel securing a perimeter, while from the second came two men in formal suits, trailed by a handful of others whose careful, watchful posture marked them clearly as personal security detail. "High Councillors." The two men approached and stopped at a respectful arm's length, and the one in front extended his hand first toward Maverick. "We haven't had the pleasure of a proper introduction." "Your Highness." Maverick shook the offered hand without much ceremony. "It's a pleasure." The man before him was the heir to the British throne, the Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall, not the mother of dragons, too many titles to bother remembering. To the public, however, he was simply Prince Charles. The second man, however, was no stranger to Maverick. It was his own father, though on this particular occasion Michael Caesar was obviously present in his capacity as Prime Minister rather than as anyone's parent. As for why the Queen herself had not made the journey, it was likely a deliberate decision to broaden the royal family's relationship with the magical world by sending her eldest son, the heir apparent, in her stead. Once the formalities of greeting had concluded, the Crown Prince and the Prime Minister were then led inside the tent, which was naturally no ordinary tent. Beneath its modest canvas exterior, the interior opened into a space as large as Hogwarts' Great Hall. The Prince was not entirely unfamiliar with the extraordinary side of the world, so the sight did not catch him completely off guard upon entering. Well... much. As for Michael, well, there's probably very little left in the world capable of making him raise a brow at this point. Outside, the assembled news networks broadcast the scene live across the world, and there was a brief moment of visible confusion among the commentators when the Crown Prince was seen calmly walking into what appeared to be an ordinary and small canvas tent that looked like it could barely fit more than three people. And the confusion only grew when the full security detail followed right behind, one after another, turning confusion into open shock and bewilderment as more than a dozen people disappeared through an entrance that should not, by any reasonable understanding of physics, have been able to accommodate them. Once again, the people's understanding of this extraordinary group deepened, as they continued displaying abilities that ordinary logic simply could not explain. Anyways, the royal family's willingness to meet directly with those responsible for the night's events sent a clear and reassuring signal to the general public, suggesting that matters were, despite appearances, very much under control, and that the country's leadership remained neither oblivious to nor frightened by what had occurred. "...my mother is particularly concerned about the smaller settlements scattered throughout this area," the Prince said once they had settled, his tone carrying concern rather than just diplomatic formality. "She mentioned they were not part of the information provided beforehand. High Councillors, if I may ask..." "Please, just address us by name, Your Highness," Maverick interjected gently, glancing briefly to either side. Dumbledore nodded in agreement, while Edward and Maxime offered nothing more than a careless shrug each. "In that case, Mr Caesar, is there anything we ought to know, or..." The Prince allowed the sentence to trail off, his meaning clear enough. He was simply asking whether there had been any casualties. There was no accusation in his tone either, only the practiced restraint of a man trained from birth to weigh every word with care. "The settlements had already been evacuated by our people, Your Highness. I can assure you of that personally." Maverick met his eyes steadily. "Please relay to Her Majesty that there is no need for concern on that front. I will admit that certain elements of tonight did not unfold as planned, but we made absolutely certain that no innocent lives were affected in the process." Maverick's father remained silent throughout the exchange, content to let the Prince carry the conversation. "Would you be willing to elaborate on that," the Prince asked, with deliberate emphasis, "unexpected element? Just so that we might all be working from the same understanding." Maverick nodded and turned toward Dumbledore. The old wizard let out a quiet sigh before turning to the Crown Prince. "I suspect you have already seen the news, or at least the version being circulated on our side." Dumbledore spoke in his usual calm, measured tone. "He was one of the men most responsible for the suffering inflicted upon the world some fifty years ago. Gellert Grindelwald." "I have indeed reviewed his files." The Prince's brow furrowed slightly. "Though I had been led to understand he was imprisoned by your people. Securely, I had assumed." "He was." Dumbledore nodded. "He appears, however, to have found some means of escaping. I apologise, Your Highness, but that is the full extent of what we currently know. Only once we have properly investigated the prison itself will we be able to offer anything further." "Such a dangerous man, Mr Dumbledore." The Prince's brows did not relax. "Is he truly dead? I did indeed see the broadcast from your side, the anchor claiming that the headless body belonged to him. Can you confirm that personally?" Something changed ever so slightly in Dumbledore's expression, there and gone again almost before it could be properly read, before he answered with a single, measured nod. Whatever reluctance he might have felt at discussing the death of the man he had once loved, he did not allow it to show. "He is dead, Your Highness. I can confirm that without any doubt." "That is good to hear." The Prince exhaled, visibly relieved, and offered a small nod toward the old wizard, whose expression remained carefully neutral throughout. He then turned his attention back to Maverick. "In that case, Mr Caesar, is there anything you require of us from this point forward? Her Majesty and the Prime Minister have already briefed me at length regarding your," he paused, seemingly searching for the most diplomatic phrasing available, "rather extraordinary plan to bring our two worlds together." He offered a brief smile around the gathered group. Maverick considered the question for a moment. "Then I take it you are aware that your government will be holding a press conference shortly?" "Yes, though its purpose is largely to reassure the public rather than offer any substantial detail." "Then proceed exactly as planned, Your Highness." Maverick turned toward his father. "The Prime Minister should have a statement ready, I assume?" Michael cleared his throat and moved slightly in his seat. "I do. As you said, we won't be entertaining questions from the press. We'll simply deliver what is necessary and conclude the briefing." "Good." Maverick offered his father a brief smile before turning back to the Prince. "You should also be aware that our side maintains an international body comparable to the United Nations..." "The International Confederation of Wizards?" "Yes. Before we announce anything substantial, a formal decision must first be reached by them..." On the surface, it sounded like the description of a fully democratic process, but the word "formal" might not mean quite what the Crown Prince was likely imagining. That council meeting was obviously going to get heated. However, the Prince did not need to know those finer details. "We intend to convene the congress later today and arrive at a decision. Following that, there will be a second press conference, with representatives present from both sides." It was the plan from the very beginning. There was little choice in the matter. The longer the world remained in the dark, the more chaotic things would become, so coming forward as directly and as promptly as possible was no doubt the best course of action. Of course, that did not mean everything would resolve itself neatly, or that the public would simply accept these revelations without some degree of unrest. It merely meant the foundation had been laid for whatever chaos followed to settle as quickly as circumstances would allow. "After which there will be a further congress," Dumbledore continued, picking up smoothly where Maverick had left off, "held jointly between the wizarding world and representatives of the Muggle governments. With any good fortune, the worst of the public's panic should have subsided by that point. The rest, I expect, will simply be a matter of time." "What of the other governments?" Charles asked, his expression thoughtful. "I understand we are hardly the only nation aware of the magical world's existence." Maverick's expression turned briefly contemplative as he considered the question. It was also a concern already taken into account, the possibility that certain Muggle governments might choose to act unilaterally rather than wait for the formal process to play out. He glanced toward his teacher. Edward gave a soft, dismissive huff and nodded. "The President of the United States and your mother will handle that. Your monarch already knows what must be done, and our people are, as we speak, are briefing the President and they are to contact and inform the other world leaders." "In any case, it would hardly matter even if certain parties chose to reveal something prematurely ahead of an official decision." Olympe Maxime picked up the conversation in her distinct accent. "And I doubt any of them even have the nerve for it." She allowed herself a small chuckle at the end. "I... see." The Prince paused briefly between the words, processing the implications. The meeting wasn’t long. Mainly, it was to determine whether there had been any complications that went outside the script, and for Charles to formally insert himself on behalf of his mother. "Is there anything further, Your Highness?" Maverick asked with an easy smile. Charles considered for a moment before shaking his head, smiling faintly. "No, I believe that covers everything." He turned toward Michael. "Anything further from your end, Prime Minister?" "No, Your Highness." "Very well, then." The Prince nodded and rose to his feet, extending his hand for a final round of farewells. Maverick and the others rose in turn, and after a brief exchange of handshakes, the group made their way out of the tent, only to be met immediately by an explosion of camera flashes the moment they stepped back into the open air. The assembled reporters had gathered close by, held back only by the presence of the royal security detail, without which they likely would have attempted to follow the Prince directly into the tent itself. "Your Highness!" "Prime Minister!" "Your Highness, over here!" "What did you discuss with the superhumans?" "Your Highness, please, just one question!" "Prime Minister, if we could—" Both men ignored the rising clamour and the relentless flashing of cameras entirely. In front of the assembled press, outside the tent, they exchanged one final, deliberate handshake before making their way directly toward the waiting helicopters. The reporters could do little but watch, visibly disappointed, as the aircraft lifted off into the morning sky. A few of the bolder among them briefly considered approaching the "superhumans" directly, the label having already taken hold among the press, but the moment the helicopter engines stirred to life, Maverick, Dumbledore, Maxime, and Edward rose into the air themselves, leaving behind only stunned reporters and a chorus of unanswered questions. Even the tent was gone before they realized it, disappearing without a trace.