Nothing clears the mind quite like sharing a quiet meal with the right person. Good food, easy conversation without a care in the world, and above all, an hour or so in which the weight of everything else can simply be set aside and left to wait. It was exactly what Maverick needed before the night ahead. They lingered over their drinks for a while after the plates were cleared before Isabella eventually glanced at her watch and reached for her coat. Her team had already arrived in the city and were waiting on her, and tonight of all nights was not one she had any intention of being late for. “Please don't keep the entire world waiting,” Isabella said as she walked around the table, leaned down, and kissed him on the cheek. “I know you have a habit of making what you call a protagonist's entrance, but to everyone else, it's simply showing up late.” She paused, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “And do try to look the part.” There was very little Maverick could say to that. He chuckled, smiled, and gave a resigned nod. Isabella has him pretty much figured out by now, perhaps even better than he knows himself. That said... what exactly did she mean by look the part? He looked down at himself, gave his outfit a quick inspection, then clicked his tongue and brushed the thought aside. He was wearing a fitted black long coat over a pristine white shirt, matched with tailored black trousers. Sharp lines, clean colors, nothing excessive. Formal enough for any occasion, yet relaxed enough to feel natural. Seemed perfectly fine to him. So she probably meant he should smile a little more. After all, tonight the entire world's attention would be on them. With Isabella gone, the restaurant settled back into its quiet, unhurried rhythm around him. He was in no hurry to leave just yet though. To anyone watching, he was simply a young man leisurely finishing the last of his drink. Quietly, however, his magical sense moved steadily through the city, reaching outward and tracking the subtle changes in the landscape as more and more magical signatures revealed themselves. Their numbers had grown considerably over the past hour and were still increasing, and quite a few of them belonged to people he knew very well.
--- The last light of day lingered over the old city, bathing its rooftops and grand facades in soft shades of amber and violet. Even with evening settling in, the streets remained as lively as ever, the crowds showing no sign of thinning. This was hardly surprising. As one of Europe's cultural capitals, Vienna attracted a constant stream of visitors eager to experience its history, music, and timeless architecture, leaving the city bustling at almost any hour of the day or night. The only notable difference from any other day was perhaps the somewhat larger number of police officers moving through the streets. But they did not appear to be doing anything particularly different from usual, and since no announcement had been made by the city authorities, the public had no concerns and went about their evening without giving it much thought. Behind the scenes, however, the situation was considerably less relaxed. The Austrian non-magical government was naturally no stranger to the existence of magic either, and both the President and the Chancellor had been informed that an International Confederation of Wizards congress, arranged at rather short notice, would be taking place in their city that evening. In coordination with Austria's magical government, they had quietly elevated the city's security to a level that, for all practical purposes, amounted to undeclared martial law, just without telling anyone about it. --- On a quieter corner not far from the State Opera, a series of sharp cracks echoed briefly before a group of people appeared in the middle of it, as if they had always been standing there. They were well dressed, every one of them, in formal suits worn under neatly tailored robes. They glanced at each other briefly, nodded, and without a word stepped out into the crowd and were gone, blending in so easily that they might have simply walked out of a nearby shop. However, after only a short distance, they peeled away once again, making their way toward a nondescript service entrance tucked into the side of the opera house. It was the sort of door most people would pass without so much as a second glance. Without breaking stride, the man at the front raised a hand and pressed his palm against it. The door seemed to recognize his touch. A section of it folded inward with smooth, practiced silence, as though it had performed the same motion countless times before, revealing the hidden passage beyond. They stepped through without slowing, without so much as a glance from anyone nearby. European countries had long shared a fondness for concealing their Ministries of Magic beneath or near Muggle landmarks. Some chose iconic sites, while others favored places so ordinary and forgettable that no one would think to look twice. In France, for instance, the visitors' entrance is concealed beneath one of the many Wallace fountains scattered across Paris. Germany takes a different approach, hiding its five-story, arrowhead-shaped structure in the heart of Berlin behind enchantments that render it invisible to Muggles. Austria has chosen a far subtler location, concealing its own entrance beside the Vienna State Opera. Perhaps the European countries believe it adds a certain irony to the arrangement, like the old saying, the best place to hide something is in plain sight. In any case, the transition was immediate and absolute. The sounds of the evening street, the distant traffic, the murmur of pedestrians, even the last birds settling in for the night, vanished the moment the entrance sealed behind them, replaced by the warm, resonant quiet of a place that existed entirely on its own terms. A corridor of pale stone stretched ahead, illuminated by softly glowing lamps that needed no flame. It curved gently downward before opening without warning into the vast atrium of the Österreichisches Zaubereiministerium, or in other words, the Austrian Ministry of Magic.
The shorter of the six men slowed almost involuntarily, as even frequent visitors will find it difficult not to pause. High overhead, an enchanted vaulted ceiling reflected the last traces of the evening sky in deep shades of violet and fading gold. Along the walls, vast murals moved with quiet life, while at the center of the atrium, a fountain that had reportedly flowed without interruption since the fifteenth century continued to do so, its waters catching the fading light and scattering it in gentle patterns across the stone floor. Ordinarily, the atrium possessed a calm, dignified atmosphere. Tonight, however, it was every bit as lively as the bustling streets above. Witches and wizards from every corner of the world moved through the hall in a steady stream, dressed in everything from traditional robes to modern tailored suits. Conversations in dozens of languages echoed beneath the high ceilings as Ministry officials hurried from one chamber to another, clerks carried stacks of enchanted documents, and security personnel maintained a discreet but unmistakable presence at every major intersection. Ordinarily, it would not be nearly so lively. Tonight, however, the International Confederation of Wizards Assembly was set to convene here, and that meant Great Magi and Archmages from across the world, along with the heads of magical governments and their delegations, would all be in attendance, making the Austrian Ministry the political center of the entire wizarding world. Likewise, the international magical press would also gather in full force, especially on this occasion when the whole world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see what conclusions the Assembly would reach. Every corridor seemed alive with quiet conversations and hushed speculation. At the far end of the atrium, a reception desk sat beneath a softly glowing archway, staffed by a witch in neat, formal robes who looked up as the six of them approached with the calm, practiced composure of someone accustomed to receiving visitors of considerable importance and long since beyond being impressed by them. "Good evening." Jameson Greengrass stepped forward. "Minister of Magic, United Kingdom. I believe we are expected." The witch's quill was already moving. "Your names, please, all of you." "Greengrass, Jameson. Minister of Magic." He paused and gestured briefly to those behind him. "Moody, Alastor. Harrington, Edmund. Selwyn, Margaret. Ashford, Roland." He turned slightly toward the last man in the group. "And Suleiman, Ali." The witch examined each face in turn as the names were given, her quill moving steadily beside her. A second witch seated further back consulted a long, densely written scroll, her finger travelling down it at a careful pace before giving a small nod of confirmation. "Thank you." The witch rose from behind her desk before turning to Jameson. "Minister Greengrass, your seat is in the ministerial section to the right of the speakers' platform. You'll find it in the third row from the front, on the left-hand side. A Ministry liaison will be available to assist you throughout the proceedings." She then turned to the remaining five, her expression remaining just as courteous, though her manner grew noticeably more respectful. "As for the rest of you, gentlemen, as registered Great Magi and voting members of the Assembly, your seats have been reserved in the Councillors' Section. Your names have already been marked in the designated rows." She gestured to a second witch who had appeared quietly at the edge of the desk. "My colleague will show you to your seats." Moody said nothing. His magical eye continued its slow, ceaseless rotation as they walked, taking in the walls, the ceiling, the corridor ahead, and, presumably, several things beyond them all at once. The other three men were also Great Magi serving within the British Ministry. Their identities were known only to a select few, as each belonged to Britain's Department of Mysteries, where they served as Unspeakables. Other magical governments maintained similar organizations, though "Unspeakable" was simply the name used by the British. The last person was none other than Ali, whom Maverick had instructed to accompany Minister Greengrass's delegation. The first witch came to a stop before a set of tall brass handled doors, took hold of one, and drew it open. The sound of the assembly hall rolled out to meet them at once, the low, overlapping murmur of hundreds of witches and wizards gathered from across the world, carrying the particular atmosphere of something that had not yet started but very much intended to. "Welcome," she said, holding the door open. "The Assembly will begin shortly. Please proceed inside." After giving his robes a slight adjustment, Jameson stepped through first, and the others entered the hall behind him in turn. The large chamber was arranged like a parliamentary hall, with tiered rows of desks and chairs curving in a broad arc, each level rising slightly above the one before it, giving every seat an unobstructed view of the floor below.
In fact, nearly every magical community had a hall built along similar lines, even the British Ministry of Magic. It was there, in that very sort of chamber, that the last hearing had taken place, the one Maverick had also attended, where the rather rotund Minister Fudge had ultimately been impeached. The seating was filling rapidly, robes of every colour and cut moving through the rows as witches and wizards from across the world found their places, the low murmur of a dozen languages rising and mixing in the vaulted air above them into a sound that was less conversation than atmosphere. And at the front of the hall, set apart from the tiered seating on a slightly raised platform of its own, stood a long desk with seven high-backed chairs arranged behind it. All faced the assembled chamber, three already occupied while the remaining four sat empty, awaiting their occupants. Jameson broke away from the group and headed for the ministerial section, where his counterparts from across the magical world were already seated. The remaining five made their way to the Councillors' Section and had barely taken their seats in the third row from the front, near the middle, when the conversations throughout the chamber suddenly fell silent.