Hogwarts, Great Hall. The Triwizard Tournament had drawn to a close, and with the excitement of it behind them, the castle should have been settling back into its usual end-of-year rhythm. Ordinarily, this was the time of year when the corridors buzzed with nervous whispers and every spare hour went to last-minute revision, the exams looming ever closer with the particular inevitability of things that do not care how unprepared you are. Like the rest of the world, they had watched the previous night's events unfold live, and even a first-year could tell that after magic had been revealed so openly, there were bound to be consequences. But exactly what kind, and exactly when, was the question occupying every student in the castle, and the professors were no more enlightened on the matter than their students, only considerably better at concealing the fact. Unfortunately, the people most likely to have the answers were nowhere to be found. Since the previous night, Dumbledore had not been seen by a single student. McGonagall and Flitwick had appeared briefly that afternoon, long enough to announce that classes were cancelled for the remainder of the day and the one following, and then disappeared again before anyone had the presence of mind to ask anything useful. The Headmistress of Beauxbatons had done much the same, returning only briefly to check on her students and speak with her staff before vanishing once more without offering a single explanation. None of them offered a single explanation or answered any of the questions thrown their way. That had left only Igor Karkaroff, who remained tight-lipped regardless of how many questions were directed at him, whether because he had answers he had no intention of sharing or because he was as much in the dark as everyone else, nobody could say with any confidence. Then, only a few hours before dusk, he too had disappeared without a word to anyone. Under ordinary circumstances, two unscheduled holidays would have been received with considerable enthusiasm and very few questions. The problem was, in the absence of everyone else, the running of the school had apparently fallen to the Potions professor. --- "Wicked, the screens are back." Ronald Weasley's face lit up the moment he walked into the Great Hall for dinner, his eyes going immediately to the two large screens mounted on either side of the hall. Harry and Hermione were with him, Harry in the flesh having returned that afternoon with McGonagall before switching back with his godfather, and the three of them made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat down. "Those are the International Confederation of Wizards' flags," said Hermione, nodding her head toward the screen showing a live feed of the scene all the way from Vienna. "So that's why the Headmaster and the professors are missing." It didn't take Miss Know-It-All to realize something. Harry of course knew more than her, but he made no comment, just nodding along as if he too had figured it out. Only Ron looked clueless, or rather, his expression changed into one of disappointment. "And here I thought we were gonna watch some epic action like last night." Hermione rolled her eyes. "It must be important, otherwise the school wouldn't go out of their way to allow us to watch live. I'm guessing this is to decide what will happen next." "Right, but what is happening next?" asked Ron, his plate already full and getting ready to munch on a piece of chicken leg. This time, even Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes, but alas, who told him to have him as his best friend, so he explained patiently, "It's to decide what action to take..." "—that epic action," said Hermione, "what you called, the whole world must have seen it. Don't you understand what that means?" Ron chewed thoughtfully. "So now every..." he continued, mouth still occupied. "Please," said Hermione, with genuine feeling, "stop talking with your mouth full." She turned back to the screen. "Yes, that means the whole world now knows about magic. So this is no longer a matter of just a few Muggles discovering our world and then having their memories Obliviated…" She paused, something settling in her expression. "I think we are about to witness something that changes the world. That's probably why the school's making us students watch as well." Ron had paused his chewing, his expression looking thoughtful, but his brain's processing speed seemed to be a bit lagging, so he sat there frozen for a while.
The rest of the hall was not very different. Every table hummed with speculation and discussion, voices rising and falling over the same few questions in a dozen variations, and most students had arrived at roughly the same conclusion about what the assembly was for, which only made the waiting feel longer. At the Slytherin table, the conversations were somewhat quieter. "Daph, look... there's your dad..." Tracy nudged her friend's arm, nodding toward the screen where the camera had zoomed in on a figure that had just entered the assembly hall, walking with calm, measured confidence. "Oh, and Professor Moody. Hmm... I didn't even realise he was gone..." Daphne Greengrass did not comment, only humming softly while her eyes followed her father across the screen. Something she would not have named aloud moved quietly through her, something that felt a good deal like pride. "So cool," said the girl seated beside her, three parts identical to Daphne but younger looking and considerably less inclined toward restraint. Astoria Greengrass had no particular interest in concealing what she was feeling. "I wonder if Mum's there too." --- Dinner had been served, but much of it was left to grow cold. Plates sat untouched as students kept their eyes fixed on the large screens mounted around the Great Hall. Thanks to Magic Vision, the unfolding events in Vienna were being shown from several different angles. The Hall buzzed with conversation, but it was nothing like the usual cheerful chatter at mealtimes. Instead, it was filled with restless whispers as everyone tried to make sense of everything they had witnessed. At the staff table, Severus Snape sat with his usual stillness, though it was not as effortless as it seemed. Before leaving again, McGonagall had placed the school in his charge. It had been on her orders that he arranged for the broadcast to be shown to the students, and he had carried out the tasks without complaint, giving away nothing of what he was thinking. Actually, since last night he had been feeling very restless. He knew that something big had happened before things had started and that Dumbledore had kept him in the dark. The Dark Mark left by the Dark Lord on his arm all those years ago was the first sign, when it suddenly started burning, showing more vitality than it had ever shown in the past thirteen years, and then Dumbledore and the others disappeared. It couldn't have all been a coincidence. Then he saw live that face that gave him nightmares, that face he both feared and hated with every ounce of his blood, the face of whom he had pledged his allegiance, the face of the monster who murdered the most important person in his heart. He was terrified, if he was being honest with himself, in a way he had not been frightened in a long time. And then he had watched that same monster be brought down with a directness and a lack of ceremony that had left him staring at the screen in something he could not immediately name. He and Maverick had never particularly got along. But that had not stopped him, in that moment, from feeling something very close to gratitude toward the young man, from somewhere he had not expected to find it. What puzzled him now, and had been puzzling him since, was still the Dark Mark. It was still there on his arm. The broadcast had moved so quickly, events escalating before he had properly followed them, and he still did not know with any certainty whether the Dark Lord had been killed or whether what he had witnessed was something else entirely. He had even asked McGonagall, but she was also as clueless about Voldemort's fate as he was. --- Across the world, millions of eyes remained fixed on the same live broadcast, united by a single question: what would happen next? Inside a conference room at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, a dozen agents sat without speaking, their attention fixed on a Magic Vision screen that had not been switched off since the previous night. Ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts and half-empty coffee cups told the story of a room that had hardly been empty for hours. Alexander Pierce sat at the far end of the table with his arms folded, watching in silence. Nick Fury had returned not long ago and now leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table. Since the broadcast had turned to the Assembly Hall, he had scarcely said a word. Far away in East Africa, beyond a veil that had hidden an ancient kingdom from the world for centuries, the same broadcast was being watched, just as silently. The faces gathered there were every bit as solemn and expectant as any others. Elsewhere, in secure rooms scattered across the globe, presidents and prime ministers and the odd king or queen sat before screens of their own, while telephones rang without much pause. Messages came and went. Advisors muttered behind closed doors. Nobody wanted to be the one caught unprepared. Further still, in a place that appeared on no map, and never intended to, lay a circular chamber built of old stone. Around a broad table sat several figures in high-backed chairs, and at its centre stood a pool of water, perfectly still, its surface showing the same broadcast as clearly as any television, or any Magic Vision screen for that matter. Among them was the Ancient One, Sorcerer Supreme of the world. Not far off sat her counterpart in magic, Merlin Ambrosius, Mage Supreme of wizardkind. Neither spoke. Neither wore the authority they carried everywhere else. Here, it seemed, they were simply two among equals. Who the rest of them were, and why even Merlin and the Ancient One counted themselves as no more than that… that answer would have to wait. Back at Hogwarts, the mood in the Great Hall changed once again. Every eye turned toward the screens as the broadcast suddenly cut away from the wide view of the Assembly Chamber to a pair of tall doors with polished brass handles. They remained closed for only a moment… then they swung open. The murmur inside the Assembly Chamber died almost at once, while in the Great Hall, conversations stopped just as suddenly.