[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 716 - 720

Chapter 716: The World Devours

Am I going mad?

Am I trapped in some kind of dream?

Carter stared at Dumbledore's ghostly form, his translucent body emanating a soft white fluorescence. Her expression betrayed her shock and disbelief.

Is he... dead?

"I'm not dead yet!" Dumbledore said faintly, floating in mid-air as he gazed directly into Carter's eyes.

Before Carter could breathe a sigh of relief, he delivered his next words.

"But I am dying."

"What happened?" Carter couldn't hide the urgency in her voice.

It wasn't without reason. The current wizarding world had only one true cornerstone—Dumbledore.

Without his methods, resources, and strategic planning, how could they possibly continue the transformation to the new wizard and magic systems?

Could Kamar-Taj alone carry that burden?

No matter how confident Carter felt, given the current circumstances, it would be impossible without Lockhart's additional support. It would take fifty or even a hundred years of gradual progress!

Yet in just two or three years, the entire wizarding world had accepted the new magic system and welcomed Muggle-born wizards into their ranks.

This rapid acceptance was possible only because of Dumbledore's century-earned prestige and status. Without him, it would take at least a decade.

Carter understood this all too well, which was why she couldn't accept Dumbledore's impending death.

In her opinion, Dumbledore's death might eventually serve some greater purpose—but only if he died heroically after the reformation of the wizarding world was complete.

Not now. Not like this.

"Because I've grown too strong," Dumbledore stated simply, causing Carter to frown.

"How strong?" she asked, unable to understand his meaning.

"Strong enough." Dumbledore raised his hand slightly, pointing his transparent index finger—still glowing with that strange white luminescence—toward Carter's forehead.

Then he waved it gently to the right.

The next moment—

Buzz!

Under Carter's horrified gaze, the surrounding walls began to become transparent. She could clearly see the moving staircases below, the dim classrooms, and even the resting young wizards.

It seemed they were floating inside Hogwarts like ghosts.

But this was not what truly shocked Carter. What terrified her was what happened when Dumbledore made another subtle gesture.

The light and scene changed rapidly. The originally dark staircases suddenly brightened, and the empty classrooms abruptly filled with students.

In corridors that alternated between light and darkness, young wizards appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

All of this, to Carter's eyes, seemed to be moving backward.

Yes—time itself was being reversed.

Within this temporal flux, Carter witnessed familiar scenes: Snape meticulously brewing potions, a young Harry practicing spells.

Pop!

Unable to resist, Carter stretched her hand forward. There was a slight sound, like touching a marshmallow—a soft resistance, followed by ripples that spread outward like waves on water.

Something about her touch seemed to accelerate the process.

The shifts in light and darkness grew more rapid, the scenes more varied.

Carter watched the sleeping basilisk, the young Lily and Snape in their school days, the orphaned child who would become Voldemort, and even Dumbledore in his youth.

Historical figures emerged one after another until—

Gryffindor wielding his legendary sword, Slytherin clutching his locket, Ravenclaw adorned with her diadem, Hufflepuff raising the Holy Grail high...

The founding of Hogwarts itself unfolded before her eyes.

A scene from legend, a moment of history...

Carter couldn't help but feel awe and longing.

But the visions did not stop there—they continued to roll backward through time.

She witnessed wizards casting ancient spells to drive away primordial monsters, goblins guarding their treasures while hunting wizards who trespassed on their domains.

Dragons soared through pristine skies, breathing fire from their massive jaws, while elves commanded enormous wooden golems in ancient conflicts.

Scenes from fairy tales and even unknown chapters of history displayed themselves before Carter's astonished eyes.

History—the entire past of the wizarding world.

Carter understood without Dumbledore needing to explain.

"Carter, the past of the entire wizarding world is clearly visible to me," Dumbledore said softly.

"Including you..."

As his words faded, the visions shifted again.

Carter watched herself walking out of the enchanted suitcase, conversing with Lockhart on a rain-slicked street, the mysterious magic that had altered her identity...

Scene after scene—everything Carter had done since arriving in the wizarding world played out before her eyes.

The display left her increasingly disturbed.

Then, even more alarmingly, the visions continued.

Around them, scenes from World War II materialized: Hydra, Captain America, the Tesseract...

From the Marvel universe, moments connected to Carter appeared one after another.

Even Lockhart appeared, along with Kamar-Taj and the world of all things.

"I'm afraid I won't have the chance to visit the new world Lockhart spoke of," Dumbledore said with regret.

"However, I believe that world must represent the future for wizards. I trust that Lockhart will bring a better future to our kind."

The hopeful tone in Dumbledore's voice reached Carter's ears, though it was tinged with sadness.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, do you intend to take control of the wizarding world? To become... some kind of dimensional god?" Carter couldn't help but ask. The scenes she had just witnessed undeniably suggested that Dumbledore had developed an extraordinary understanding of—or influence over—the wizarding world.

Combined with the ancient texts she had studied at Kamar-Taj, she wondered if Dumbledore was attempting to ascend to godhood.

"No, I don't control the world," Dumbledore replied, his voice low and lonely, filled with resignation. "The world controls me."

Before Carter could ask for clarification, Dumbledore continued: "I told you that I'm dying."

"The manner of my death is this: all of my spiritual and physical magic is being integrated into the entire wizarding world in the most complete way possible."

"Or, to put it another way..."

"The wizarding world is consuming me."

Despite his calm tone, there was an undercurrent of despair.

"Why? Is it because you've grown too powerful?" Carter's voice became complex with emotion.

These revelations were systematically dismantling her understanding of reality.

The world... devouring wizards?

Had such words come from anyone other than Dumbledore—especially a dying Dumbledore—Carter would have dismissed them as madness.

"You could understand it that way," Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Don't waste your energy searching for a solution. This process is irreversible."

"I summoned you here to tell you certain things—to make arrangements for after my passing."

Before Carter could interject, Dumbledore began to speak with urgency.

"First, the world has noticed the threat that Lockhart represents. He may not return as soon as we hoped. You must prepare yourself mentally for this possibility."

"Second, the advancement of wizards must be slowed. When a wizard's strength reaches a certain threshold, their end will come."

"The goblins, dragons, and elves of ancient times all perished for this very reason."

"Remember, Carter—the world possesses consciousness, and it will not tolerate beings of such power that they might threaten its existence."

"Third..."

When he reached his third point, Dumbledore's voice grew noticeably weaker.

"Beware of Voldemort. Beware of Tom. It's possible that everything happening now is connected to him..."

Chapter 717: Arrival of the Advance Guard

2033, New York, Kamar-Taj Secret Land

"So, Headmaster Dumbledore died like this?"

At the dining table, Vera's mouth opened slightly, her tone filled with disbelief.

The table before them shimmered, and all the cutlery, plates, and forks vanished in an instant. Simultaneously, the other students departed without fanfare, as if responding to an unspoken command.

Only Ian, Vera, and the teachers of Kamar-Taj remained in the vast dining hall. The departing students seemed to sense the gravity of the moment and left of their own accord.

"No, we're not completely certain," Snape stepped forward and said, confusion evident in his voice.

Ian looked up and studied his former professor, who still wore the same black robes from his memories, though his face had visibly aged with the passing years.

"Although Carter reported that Dumbledore disappeared that night," Snape continued, "we performed divination afterward."

"Every divination result indicated that Dumbledore is still alive."

"It's simply that, until now, no trace of him has been found."

"Yet every divination seems to hint at an answer just beyond our grasp."

Snape's tone deepened as he reached this point.

Some of the other professors remained silent, while others opened their mouths to speak, but ultimately said nothing. The mood had grown increasingly somber.

The entirety of Kamar-Taj seemed to be in decline. The joy of past days had long since vanished.

Even the youngest wizards had become unnaturally solemn. The entire environment grew more oppressive with each passing day.

Ian decided to change the subject. "Teachers, professors—don't worry. Tom Riddle's arrogance won't continue much longer."

Ian's confident tone immediately drew everyone's attention.

He began to share encouraging news in an attempt to restore their collective faith.

"In the new world, our mentor has succeeded as Kamar-Taj's new Sorcerer Supreme."

"He has mastered the Eye of Agamotto."

Ian's words confused some wizards originally from the Harry Potter universe. However, those like Carter and Snape—who had visited the Marvel world or originated from it—displayed obvious excitement.

"Really?"

"That's wonderful news!"

"Where is Lockhart now? When can we see him?"

Carter fired off questions like cannonballs, her excitement barely contained.

Even Snape's typically stoic face showed signs of joy.

The other professors and senior officials wore expressions of renewed hope and anticipation.

After years of hiding together, they all had developed a relatively detailed understanding of many things, including the nature of the new world. The fact that Kamar-Taj had survived Tom Riddle's relentless pursuit to this day was testament to their resilience.

The existence of the new world represented their paramount hope. Like a distant light guiding them through darkness, though elusive, it provided them with powerful emotional support.

Then there was Lockhart—the supreme wizard who had once subdued Voldemort and sent him fleeing. This memory sustained them through their darkest hours.

They firmly believed that Lockhart's return would bring about a dramatic reversal of their fortunes.

Just as now...

"Everyone, please remain calm," Ian said evenly. "The changes in the wizarding world have exceeded all of our expectations."

"Time flows differently between our worlds."

"I didn't expect that while we've been in the new world for only half a year, nearly thirty years have passed here in the wizarding world."

Ian's measured tone gradually restored calm to the assembly. Vera's clear voice added from beside him:

"This time, our return to the wizarding world has been affected by these temporal shifts. We represent only the first contingent of wizards to return."

"Beyond this world, a large number of wizards are still waiting for their opportunity to cross over."

Hearing this, Carter seemed to detect another meaning in Vera's words.

She couldn't help but ask: "How many have come to the wizarding world in this initial group?"

"All of the sorcerers under our mentor's direct instruction are here," Ian replied. "And they've brought significant resources cultivated by Kamar-Taj."

Noticing Carter's questioning look, he extended his palm in a gesture that encompassed everyone present.

"We estimate more than five thousand in total, with about twenty returnees like myself in this first wave."

Hiss!

Ian's revelation caused everyone present to draw in sharp breaths.

Five thousand sorcerers.

This was an extraordinary number.

Even accounting for the current growth of the wizarding world's population, this represented a significant influx of magical talent.

While most Muggle wizards had limited potential and remained at lower levels of magical proficiency, the number of wizards with genuine potential, strength, and magical bloodlines was not particularly large.

In truth, the current number of Kamar-Taj Masters, even including students, did not exceed one thousand.

Lockhart's return would effectively increase the population of Kamar-Taj magical practitioners by fivefold.

And these would be no ordinary wizards. Everyone present intuitively understood that anyone returning with Lockhart would likely possess either considerable power or unique magical abilities.

The news Ian shared electrified the gathering with excitement.

However, Snape's measured words soon brought everyone back to reality.

"What is our current situation?"

"How long until Lockhart himself returns?"

"The temporal flow between the New World and the Wizarding World moves too quickly."

Though Snape left his final sentiment unspoken, everyone understood his concern: they could not afford to wait another thirty-four years.

Vera quickly reassured them: "Don't worry, it won't be nearly so long this time."

"The sooner we act, the sooner your teachers can return."

She then turned to the group with a more practical question: "I need to understand Kamar-Taj's current situation."

"There are certain matters for which we'll need your assistance."

New York, Blanche District

In an ordinary coffee shop, Kaecilius sat by the window, quietly observing the apartment building across the street.

He watched the comings and goings at the apartment entrance with a calculating eye.

This location was not merely a gathering point for the Adept Masters. It would soon become the new address of the future New York Sanctum.

This was why he attached such importance to it.

Still, he avoided hasty action, preferring quiet observation while waiting for developments to unfold.

He wasn't concerned about a delay of a day or two. If exchanging time could purchase greater safety, Kaecilius was willing to wait. He believed that under similar circumstances, Lockhart would make the same choice.

Hssss!

Kaecilius lifted his coffee cup, blew gently across its surface, and took a small sip.

He savored the unfamiliar bitter taste, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The quality was average, but the flavor was novel. It seemed that technological advancement had influenced even the evolution of taste.

Like this world itself.

Unlike the Marvel universe with its abundance of magical elements, Lockhart's wizarding world seemed comparatively barren.

Of course, this might relate to their specific environment. This was merely an ordinary secular location, not the seat of a professional magical organization.

Still, it suggested that the upper limits of this world's magical potential might not reach the heights he had initially imagined.

Kaecilius sat by the window, closing his eyes in meditation.

Some time passed before—

Buzz!

A familiar wave of magic pulsed through the air. Kaecilius opened his eyes.

The aura of the Vishanti.

One of his companions was approaching.

Scanning the street before the apartment building, Kaecilius examined each passerby with careful attention.

Soon, his gaze settled on a woman dressed in dark yellow robes.

Udyr?

She must have been in London previously and received their message.

Tap! Tap!

His fingers drummed lightly against the glass window, producing a series of small popping sounds.

The sound, infused with magic, reached the ears of the yellow-robed sorceress.

Whoosh!

Udyr suddenly turned her head, eyes alert with vigilance.

Sensing the magical direction of the sound, she spotted a familiar face and visibly relaxed.

Without hesitation, she strode toward the café across the street.

"Give me a cup of Wizard's Dream!" she ordered casually, then sat down across from Kaecilius.

"Instructor, I didn't expect you to be the first person I'd encounter here."

Udyr's respectful tone brought a smile to Kaecilius' face.

"Udyr, this is your first visit to the Supreme Sorcerer's world. What are your impressions?"

Kaecilius asked with a gentle smile before her coffee arrived.

Udyr frowned slightly. "This world exerts a suppressive effect on sorcerers."

"The power of most spells has diminished by at least thirty percent."

"Some specialized magics fail completely."

"I'm genuinely impressed that the Supreme Sorcerer originated from such a world."

"If given the choice, I would prefer to return to Kamar-Taj or the New York Sanctum for my practice."

"Hahaha!" Kaecilius laughed softly at her assessment.

Udyr had always been serious-minded, but her straightforward answer amused him greatly.

Her perspective was purely that of a Kamar-Taj practitioner.

Indeed, sorcerers from Kamar-Taj faced many restrictions when entering the wizarding world. Their natural resistance was understandable.

"Don't worry," Kaecilius smiled reassuringly. "Everything will improve once the Supreme Sorcerer arrives."

Even now, he hadn't forgotten the massive quantity of resources they had brought with them—truly an impressive amount.

Udyr nodded, seeming to understand Kaecilius' meaning.

She was considered part of the New York Sanctum lineage and had studied under Kaecilius previously, creating a stronger bond between them.

This naturally positioned her as a subordinate of Lockhart, the new Sorcerer Supreme, where the seeds of loyalty were already blossoming.

She understood the significance behind their mission.

It represented not only a substantial allocation of resources but, more importantly, an opportunity to enter fully into the Supreme Sorcerer's awareness.

Such was the way of their world. Once you entered the attention of someone in a position of power, as long as you avoided egregious failures, your future held promise.

Hard work and dedication would not go unrewarded.

So when positions for the first wave of arrivals were announced, she had immediately applied.

"Udyr, have you studied this world's history during your preparation?"

Kaecilius inquired.

"I've acquired some understanding," Udyr nodded. "Tom Riddle, the Federation King in this world, is remarkably powerful."

"It's no exaggeration to call him heroic in his own right."

"Setting aside other considerations, his respect for wizards and his unification of the world are impressive accomplishments."

"Through his vigorous promotion of magic, the number of wizards in this world far exceeds that of Kamar-Taj."

Kaecilius nodded as he listened to her analysis.

Udyr differed from him. She had arrived with minimal preparation, approaching the situation from a fresh perspective.

He, however, wanted Lockhart to have comprehensive information before his arrival.

It wasn't that they couldn't provide detailed briefings to all the advance party. Rather, their varying levels of preparation formed an experiment in itself.

Each member of the advance party carried their own distinct mission.

"What do you perceive as the Federation's primary weakness?" Kaecilius asked.

Udyr closed her eyes, contemplated briefly, then responded: "Currently, there are no obvious systemic problems."

"The established status of wizards, combined with the new magic system, provides them sufficient time to address emerging issues."

"But therein lies the potential problem."

"Without external threats, the ruling class accelerates its accumulation of power—faster and faster, with increasing momentum."

"Especially wizards, who begin with inherent advantages and continuously monopolize more resources."

"They established the Federation more than twenty years ago, and while problems aren't yet apparent, I believe that within another twenty years, social conflicts will become increasingly severe."

Hearing this fair and objective analysis, Kaecilius nodded imperceptibly.

Like father, like son.

The adage held true.

After he had designated the entire Federation, including Tom Riddle, as adversaries, his perspective had shifted dramatically.

Udyr's viewpoint represented the more original, unbiased assessment.

"Udyr, I can now confirm that the entire Federation, including its king, Tom Riddle, must be considered our enemies."

"What course of action would you recommend?"

Udyr was remarkably intuitive and intelligent.

Kaecilius had noticed these qualities during her time at the New York Sanctum, which explained his high regard for the sorceress before him.

This was not romantic affection but genuine professional respect.

"The most effective approach would be to eliminate Tom Riddle," Udyr stated without hesitation.

She had evidently been considering this question for some time.

"That represents both our optimal strategy and a feasible option."

"Provided the Supreme Sorcerer arrives to lead us."

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Kaecilius drummed his fingers on the table, appearing to evaluate her proposed plan.

"Do you have alternative suggestions?"

"Beyond direct confrontation, our best option would be to cultivate alliances with certain pure-blood nobles and potential opposition within the wizard community."

"We could gradually gather our forces to dismantle the Federation's structure from within."

Udyr spoke softly.

"This approach requires more time and extensive preparation. Personally, I still favor the direct method."

"Strike straight at the heart."

Kaecilius nodded noncommittally, withholding any definitive response.

They shifted to discussing their experiences since arriving in this world.

Udyr recounted the battle in London and its aftermath.

As he absorbed these details, Kaecilius pursed his lips thoughtfully.

He seemed preoccupied with some unnamed concern.

At that moment, the coffee shop door swung open.

A group of figures entered.

He glanced up casually.

Then—

"Grindelwald?"

"Sir, you've returned!"

Chapter 718: Dark Machinations

New York

"Grindelwald?"

Upon hearing the name, Kaecilius instantly understood what was happening—he had been misidentified again.

It hadn't been long since he was mistaken by Tom Riddle's people. The alliance's controllers had eventually acknowledged their error, though not before an unfortunate confrontation had occurred.

Now he'd been mistaken once more, and he wasn't immediately certain whether that made him friend or foe to these newcomers.

He raised his head toward the source of the voice and saw a heavyset middle-aged man in gray wizard robes hurrying excitedly toward him.

It was none other than the sanctioned wizard Holm.

"Sir, you're finally back..." Holm's voice contained unmistakable excitement, expectation, and longing, his words trembling with emotion.

Kaecilius, however, paid him little attention. Instead, he stood and looked toward Carter, Ian, and Vera, who stood not far away.

"Long time no see, Carter."

Ignoring Holm, Kaecilius walked toward Carter and extended his hand in greeting.

"Kaecili...us!" Carter's voice was initially hesitant and uncertain, but as recognition dawned, her tone grew firm.

With a gentle handshake, Kaecilius nodded toward Ian as well, offering a silent greeting.

By this time, Holm had hurried over to join them.

He seemed to gather some understanding from the exchange he'd just witnessed.

"Hello, my name is Kaecilius," he said with deliberate clarity. "Grindelwald and I are friends."

"He hasn't arrived yet, but he will be here soon."

Kaecilius spoke gently, his tone measured.

As he spoke, he reached forward slightly and produced a triangular pendant. In its center, a circle was bisected by a vertical black line.

It was the mark of a sanctioned wizard.

"Grindelwald said that seeing this pendant is like seeing him in person."

The necklace emanated an aura that inspired both familiarity and reverence.

Looking up at this face—both familiar yet unfamiliar—Holm drew his wand, placed it respectfully against his left chest, and spoke with deference.

"Chief Intelligence Officer Holm Flagg, at your command."

Seeing this, Kaecilius nodded slightly.

Given the resemblance between himself and Grindelwald, those who mistook one for the other might have anticipated the possibility of confusion.

Grindelwald would naturally have prepared for such contingencies. The sanctioned wizard's pendant, a symbol of authority, was clearly part of those preparations.

Carter, Ian, Vera, and the others watched this exchange in silence.

The other patrons in the café seemed oblivious to what was transpiring.

"Ian, how many sorcerers have arrived so far?" Kaecilius asked.

Holm stood respectfully behind him while Udyr observed everyone with curiosity. Her knowledge of the wizarding world remained limited.

"Aside from you, none yet," Ian replied with a shake of his head.

They had only recently sent the message before facing a major battle. Upon arriving in New York, Ian had briefly familiarized himself with the environment, learned some essential truths, and then rushed to meet them.

Naturally, he hadn't encountered any other members of the gathering force. Most likely, the others were still en route.

Kaecilius nodded in understanding.

He introduced Udyr to the group: "This is Udyr, my student. She is a sorcerer from the New York Sanctum lineage. Before coming here, she served as a law enforcer at Kamar-Taj headquarters."

Everyone smiled and nodded at the woman in dark yellow robes, acknowledging the introduction.

"Master Kaecilius, you're most familiar with the New York Sanctum," Vera said, her tone suggesting urgency. "Have you had the opportunity to evaluate this location? Is it suitable for our purposes?"

Hearing Vera's impatient tone, Kaecilius smiled and nodded slowly.

"Of course, I've conducted thorough tests."

"The results are promising. Just as in our world, this location represents a weak point in the fabric of space."

"The establishment of the New York Sanctum here would be ideal."

At this news, Ian, Vera, Udyr, and the others all brightened visibly.

However, Kaecilius then added: "As for the locations of the New York and Hong Kong Sanctums, I believe there's a high probability they will present no significant problems."

"But London..."

Kaecilius trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. Everyone understood his concern.

An awkward silence fell over the group.

Ian and Vera appeared particularly discomfited.

They had recently been involved in a major confrontation in London, one that had nearly resulted in a catastrophe that could have destroyed the city.

Moreover, Tom Riddle's influence continued to expand, both consciously directed and unconsciously spreading.

Establishing the London Sanctum might prove considerably more difficult than anticipated.

"Let's not worry about London for now," Ian suggested, sensing the group's unease. "We should focus on what's immediately before us."

Kaecilius cooperated with this shift in topic, continuing with renewed enthusiasm.

"Since I previously served as guardian sorcerer of the New York Sanctum, its establishment falls within my area of expertise. I've discussed the matter with Lockhart and brought the necessary resources."

"Now I simply need a few sorcerers to assist in the process."

Hearing this good news, Carter's face broke into a smile. "Don't worry, we'll provide all the cooperation you require."

"We must establish the three major Sanctums as quickly as possible to prepare for Lockhart's return—and to defeat Tom Riddle."

As she mentioned this final objective, Carter's tone grew noticeably colder, her jaw tightening with barely suppressed rage.

The past thirty years had been extraordinarily difficult for Kamar-Taj, with many wizards losing their lives.

All of it, in their view, could be laid at Tom Riddle's feet.

London, Commonwealth Wizarding Building

Compared to the chaos engulfing London as a whole, the building at its core remained remarkably stable.

It appeared entirely unaffected by the natural disasters that had ravaged the city.

Indeed, the entirety of London could be described as being in a state of chaos.

Enormous storms and earthquakes had caused immeasurable damage.

Countless ordinary citizens had perished.

Even though the natural disasters had finally ceased and reconstruction efforts were underway, disorder still reigned.

In truth, all of this damage could have been easily addressed.

Magic, after all, was miraculous in its capabilities.

With wizard intervention, collapsed buildings could be instantly restored to their original state.

Injured non-magical people could rapidly recover through appropriate spells.

Even the depression, fear, and other negative emotions afflicting the population could be dispelled with a wave of a wand.

And yet...

No wizards had stepped forward to help. The non-magical population had been left to save themselves.

Thus, even after the natural disasters had subsided, chaos continued to grip the city.

At this moment, nearly every wizard in London had gathered in the square before the Commonwealth building.

Tens of thousands stood in tight, orderly formations, their reverent gazes fixed on the figures before them.

Tom Riddle, scepter in hand, met the adoring looks of the assembled wizards.

The contrast was stark between the ordinary wizards and Aurors standing in the back rows and the pure-blood nobles positioned at the front, alongside high-ranking Federation officials.

The latter wore either deadly serious expressions or barely concealed trepidation.

Their station afforded them knowledge that made them deeply uneasy.

They hadn't been particularly concerned when Kamar-Taj had initially emerged as a factor.

But when evidence of Lockhart's influence appeared, they had instinctively shuddered with dread.

Even if Lockhart himself wasn't present—even if only his students had appeared—the night's supernatural display in London had been sufficient to put everyone on high alert.

None had forgotten the miserable fate of the Death Eaters who had hidden in Tibet during Lockhart's tenure there.

Moreover, no one could predict what other tricks the notoriously enigmatic Lockhart might have prepared.

The pure-blood nobles and senior leaders present could all foresee troubled times ahead.

Boom!

The scepter was raised slightly, then brought down heavily upon the ground. The crisp sound reverberated throughout the square.

It reached every ear with perfect clarity.

As one, the assembly banished all distracting thoughts and concentrated on what would follow.

"My fellow wizards," Tom Riddle began, his voice cold and penetrating. "You have all witnessed the catastrophe that befell London."

"I need not elaborate on its impact."

Tom Riddle's frigid tone awakened fresh memories of that terrible night.

"What has happened cannot be undone. Further discussion serves no purpose."

"There remains only one course of action."

"We must prevent similar disasters from striking other cities."

Tom Riddle's words brought visible relief to the gathered wizards.

None wished to face accountability in the current climate.

One misstep could lead to utter ruin.

"Today, we address a single theme."

"Kamar-Taj!"

"The cabal of dark wizards responsible for London's devastation!"

Tom Riddle's voice grew increasingly cold, and tension spread through the assembly.

"Last night's disaster was a disgrace to our entire Federation."

"Let every wizard present remember this moment."

"This represents a direct provocation from dark wizards!"

"How shall we respond to such a challenge?"

Tom Riddle had barely finished speaking when a thunderous response erupted from below.

"Destroy their law! Kill their bodies! Peel away their souls! Obliterate their spirits!"

"Destroy their law! Kill their bodies! Peel away their souls! Obliterate their spirits!"

"Destroy their law! Kill their bodies! Peel away their souls! Obliterate their spirits!"

The chant grew steadily louder.

The square filled with deafening sound, accompanied by an atmosphere of grim solemnity.

The corner of Tom Riddle's mouth curved into a cold smile.

The pure-blood wizards in the front row, hearing the fanatical shouts behind them, felt sudden unease.

The enthusiasm seemed unnaturally intense—not spontaneous, but somehow distorted and manufactured.

Yet at this moment, in this place, they dared not voice such thoughts. Instead, they joined the chant with apparent fervor, as if to prove their loyalty.

Though their master, Voldemort, appeared to have softened somewhat since becoming "His Majesty," they had never seen him show mercy when bloodshed was deemed necessary.

They had personally witnessed the fate of traitors and disobedient wizards, whose suffering had been worse than death itself.

The confiscation of resources and destruction of families were merely preliminary punishments.

The loss of magical abilities, terrible curses, and torture beyond imagination—these cruel punishments chilled the blood of even the most hardened among them.

Gradually, the deafening chants subsided.

Tom Riddle raised his hand in a gesture commanding silence.

Soon, the entire square fell quiet.

The assembled wizards gazed at Voldemort—at Tom Riddle—with fanatic devotion.

It seemed they would willingly wage war at his command.

"I understand your feelings," he continued.

"Like all of you, I am filled with righteous anger."

"When provocation reaches our doorstep, failure to retaliate would dishonor the very name of wizard!"

As his words faded, another chorus of shouts rose from the crowd.

"If we fail to avenge this insult, we are no longer wizards!"

"If we fail to avenge this insult, we are no longer wizards!"

"If we fail to avenge this insult, we are no longer wizards!"

Seeing their enthusiasm, Voldemort nodded with satisfaction.

As the noise gradually diminished, Voldemort spoke again, his chilling voice reaching every wizard present.

"I hereby declare that from this day forward, the entire Federation—all non-magical citizens and all wizards—will dedicate their full strength to the encirclement and suppression of the dark wizards of Kamar-Taj."

"Anyone who shelters or cooperates with them will be considered an ally of our enemy and dealt with accordingly!"

His cold pronouncement echoed across the square. In response, every wizard raised their wand high and shouted with conviction.

"Death to our enemies!"

"Death to our enemies!"

"Death to our enemies!"

London, Nightfall

Following Voldemort's daytime address, reports arrived through various channels indicating that wizards across all continents had begun to mobilize.

Throughout Europe, the Americas, and even Africa, powerful wizards were forming search parties to locate traces of Kamar-Taj.

Various methods were being employed with increasing frequency.

Intelligence gathering, divination, prophecy—all magical means were being utilized.

It appeared Voldemort would not rest until his objective was achieved.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Cold winds swept across the square and through the building, lifting fallen leaves and carrying them high into the night sky.

In the center of the square, a figure in black robes walked at a leisurely pace.

The strong winds seemed to have no effect whatsoever on his movement.

Even his robes remained undisturbed by the gusts.

It was Voldemort—Tom Riddle himself.

Tom Riddle gazed into the distance at the brightly illuminated city, his eyes reflecting indifference.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

His footsteps sounded crisply as he walked away.

As he moved, his figure began to fade, becoming increasingly insubstantial until it vanished entirely.

The square stood empty.

Simultaneously, before the ruins of Hogwarts, Tom Riddle's figure materialized.

Gazing at the dilapidated castle, Tom's face displayed a mixture of contempt and resentment.

Without hesitation, he walked directly through the crumbling gates, across the barren grounds, and into the ruined structure.

Dust covered everything. The banisters of staircases and classroom doorknobs bore scratches and bite marks of varying severity.

Tom showed no concern for these details—perhaps he was already aware of their existence.

He ascended the stairs, moving steadily upward.

First floor, second floor, third floor...

He continued without apparent fatigue, proceeding directly to the eighth floor at the very top of the castle.

The location of the Headmaster's office.

Click! Click! Click!

He reached out, pushed the door, and it opened with a series of soft clicks.

The environment inside the Headmaster's office stood in stark contrast to the rest of the castle.

While all else was covered in dust, this room appeared pristine, as if newly cleaned.

A fire burned in the hearth, and a cup of steaming coffee sat on the desk.

Tom entered and seated himself naturally at the table, in the very chair where Dumbledore had once sat.

He narrowed his eyes, staring at the hot coffee before him.

Snap!

With a slight snap of his fingers, a house-elf appeared instantaneously beside the desk.

"Another cup of coffee. Place it on the opposite side."

Following its master's command, the house-elf vanished and reappeared a moment later, setting a steaming cup of coffee on the other side of the desk.

Voldemort remained seated, lifted his own cup, and took a leisurely sip.

Then, addressing the seemingly empty chair across from him, he spoke softly.

"The coffee is excellent."

"Hogwarts house-elves remain quite impressive."

"You're right."

"Dumbledore!"

Chapter 719: The World Awakens

Hogwarts Ruins

Bright lights illuminated the top floor of the otherwise dilapidated, dark, and dust-shrouded Hogwarts Castle.

The stark contrast was jarring—while the rest of the structure crumbled into ruin, the Headmaster's office remained exceptionally clean, even radiating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

Voldemort—Tom Riddle—sat in the Headmaster's chair, staring ahead with a half-smile playing across his lips.

"Albus Dumbledore, do you think I am right?"

This scene had repeated itself countless times over the past thirty years.

But when Tom finished speaking, the only sounds were the howling wind outside the window and the gentle crackling of flames in the fireplace.

The Headmaster's office remained silent.

Voldemort showed no anger at the lack of response. On the contrary, his face betrayed only joy.

"Dumbledore, no one remembers you now."

"Except those dark wizards from Kamar-Taj!"

"But rest assured."

"They're dying."

"After all these wizards perish, I believe no one will remember you except me."

Tom Riddle's tone was light, almost casual.

The office remained quiet, save for the increasingly fierce wind outside.

The smile on Tom Riddle's face grew wider with each passing moment.

He appeared increasingly excited, though he remained perfectly still. His growing excitement seemed to please him even more.

Because it signified something important...

Dumbledore was losing what remained of his emotional control.

"Albus Dumbledore, you should be able to sense it more clearly than I can."

"The world itself rages against traitors, against outsiders."

"So, as the world's agent, what will you do now?"

Silence was his only answer.

Blanche District, New York

On the streets of Runo, large trucks arrived one after another.

In parallel, residents departed with smiles on their faces.

Who wouldn't be happy?

The compensation for their demolished homes represented a substantial windfall—enough to purchase new properties and still enjoy a comfortable standard of living.

If such an opportunity didn't bring joy, perhaps nothing in this world could.

Of course, there were always holdouts in any demolition project.

Some inevitably demanded greater compensation, hoping to grow fat on a single bite.

However, they seemed to have forgotten who was responsible for this particular demolition.

With a mere flick of a wand, even the most stubborn residents left happily and voluntarily.

No additional compensation required.

So simple, so efficient.

Vera waved her wand gently as she watched the owner of a nail salon depart with a blissful expression.

The power of a wizard over ordinary Muggles was almost laughable in its totality.

If Lockhart were to discover the full extent of their magical coercion, he might have strong words for them.

But what choice did they have? They couldn't afford to lose this opportunity.

Fortunately, there were no fools among this group of wizards.

In less than a day, the entire building, including all nearby shops, had been vacated.

Outside, the whirring of trucks continued as they delivered construction materials.

Standing before a window, Vera gazed down at the vehicles below.

A trace of frustration crossed her face.

To be honest, returning to the wizarding world had proved far more difficult than anticipated.

First, she had discovered that thirty-three years had passed, and most of her acquaintances were gone.

Then came London and the confrontation with Voldemort.

In the end, she had nearly been manipulated into destroying the entire city.

Scene after scene—how could the ever-proud Vera not feel aggrieved?

And now, to establish the New York Sanctum, they were forced to operate behind the facade of Muggle companies, constantly alert for Voldemort's agents.

She recalled how, once, they had pursued Death Eaters and hunted Voldemort across the globe.

The irony was not lost on her.

Yet despite her frustration, Vera's rational mind counseled against emotional action.

She was no fool. The paramount objective now was to prepare for Lockhart's arrival.

All emotions, all secondary concerns, must yield to this priority.

Ian stood quietly beside Vera.

He had noticed her distress early on. As her longtime companion in both study and battle, he naturally sought to offer support.

"Vera, once the three Sanctums are established and Master Lockhart arrives, everything will change," Ian said, his tone firm and confident.

Vera continued staring at the trucks carrying decorative materials below, but nodded slightly in agreement.

"At that time," Ian continued, "everything we're experiencing now will be repaid to Voldemort tenfold—perhaps a hundredfold."

His words bolstered Vera's resolve, reinforcing their shared goal.

Her eyes flickered slightly, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a subtle smile.

She turned and walked toward the upper floors. Beyond clearing the nail salon, she needed to arrange a protective magical circle encompassing the entire apartment complex.

As she departed, her clear voice carried back to Ian.

"Don't underestimate me, Ian. I'm not as fragile as you imagine."

"I will claim my revenge with my own hands."

Hearing her determined words and watching her retreating figure, Ian's lips curved into a slight smile.

The next moment, he approached the window, rose onto his toes, and leapt into the air.

Whoosh!

The wind rushed past his ears as Ian's figure descended slowly to the ground.

He landed amid the trucks.

The wand in his hand moved in a fluid motion, releasing illusory silver light.

It spread outward, enveloping nearby drivers and pedestrians.

Their memories were modified, erasing all traces of magical activity.

In their minds, they witnessed only normal demolition and commercial activity.

Nothing related to magic—just ordinary Muggle business.

Muggles provided the best camouflage, even in the post-transformation Federation.

Compared to the billions of Muggles worldwide, wizards remained a small minority—even if their numbers had increased tenfold, a hundredfold, or even a thousandfold under the new magical system.

Carter, Snape, and Kaecilius stood on the apartment's top floor, quietly observing the scene below.

They maintained a vigilant guard.

If Voldemort's agents appeared or approached, they would respond with decisive action while eliminating all evidence.

"Kaecilius," Carter's voice broke the silence. "I want to confirm once more—is it absolutely necessary to establish all three Sanctums completely before Lockhart can arrive?"

Kaecilius gazed at distant white clouds and answered languidly: "The wizarding world's resistance is stronger than we anticipated."

"If Lockhart is to come, the three Sanctums must be fully established."

"Only then can we properly guide him here."

"After all, Lockhart has become immensely powerful now!"

Kaecilius's final statement resonated with emotion as he emphasized Lockhart's strength.

He had dedicated tremendous effort, requiring less than three years to meet Lockhart. And upon meeting him, Lockhart had already joined Kamar-Taj and ascended to the position of Sorcerer Supreme.

No one envied this meteoric rise; no one harbored jealousy.

That was because he and Lockhart maintained a close friendship, their interests deeply intertwined—his emotion stemmed from genuine respect.

"Don't worry, Carter. We must wait for all three Sanctums because of Lockhart's immense power."

"But once the New York Sanctum is established, the restrictions will loosen somewhat, allowing us to welcome other sorcerers."

"Grindelwald and other senior wizards of Kamar-Taj will come."

Carter nodded slightly but remained silent.

Snape's eyes, however, darkened.

Having visited the New World and learned of Kamar-Taj's capabilities, he understood the implications.

If Kamar-Taj deployed its full strength, Voldemort might not survive the confrontation.

But would this truly benefit the wizarding world?

Profound doubt troubled Snape's thoughts.

Especially notable was how Kaecilius referred to the wizarding world with subtle condescension and detachment.

These doubts grew involuntarily in Snape's mind.

Yet he kept silent. After all, they all served Lockhart.

His relationship with Lockhart outweighed his personal misgivings.

And realistically, he could do nothing to intervene.

Seeking refuge with Voldemort wasn't an option—that would be tantamount to suicide.

Kaecilius gazed at the distant clouds, his eyes fixed on the blazing sun.

For reasons he couldn't identify, a fleeting sense of unease passed through his heart, though it quickly dissipated.

After careful introspection, he detected nothing unusual.

Neither the external environment nor his internal state showed any significant change.

He dismissed the feeling as mere imagination.

The Ethereal Space

Viewed from a distance, colorful clouds floated randomly through the void.

Upon closer inspection, one would discover these clouds comprised countless distinct points of light.

Each point continuously flickered.

The frequency of these flickers was extraordinarily high, creating various colors through their combined effect.

A wizard with a powerful soul, projecting their spirit into this realm, would discover that each flicker represented a change in the scene being depicted.

These scenes included pivotal moments in people's lives, the experiences of animals, and once-glorious historical events.

Every flickering point of light marked the passing of a being.

Their memories and emotions were preserved and displayed here with perfect clarity.

In the center of this ethereal space floated a transparent soul emanating a soft golden light.

The soul resembled an old man—his white beard clearly visible, now touched with a golden hue.

The soul's face remained expressionless, its eyes utterly indifferent, as if devoid of all emotion.

Any ordinary person would find the sight deeply unsettling.

If Carter, Snape, Lockhart, or their companions were present, they would be stunned.

For this soul bore the unmistakable likeness of Albus Dumbledore.

The missing Headmaster of Hogwarts!

Dumbledore waved his hands without emotion, causing the surrounding clouds to shift gradually.

They began to move along several strange trajectories.

The colorful clouds solidified, transforming into threads that extended throughout the space.

These threads accelerated their movements, faster and faster.

Each thread began to glow with chaotic mist.

As this mist grew thicker, the colorful threads gradually faded, as if being consumed.

Buzz!

Vast amounts of chaotic mist converged, apparently reaching some critical threshold, accompanied by a subtle buzzing sound.

A sphere of chaotic liquid, radiating immense energy, appeared before him.

Dumbledore showed no surprise at this development, suggesting everything proceeded according to plan.

The chaotic liquid drifted slowly toward Dumbledore.

Then—

Whoosh! Whoosh!

From around the liquid, transparent flames suddenly arose.

The flames grew progressively larger, as if using the liquid as fuel.

Simultaneously, images began to form within the transparent flames.

The visions showed pillars of light ascending to the heavens and giants as tall as the Himalayan peaks.

Golden thunder flashed, while bloody storms raged across vast landscapes.

The images flowed and shifted continuously.

Battle, combat, war—

The scenes within the transparent flames centered invariably on conflict.

This was the heart of the world.

The colorful clouds represented the world's origin.

The chaotic mist and transparent flames constituted a divination of the future.

The unfolding scene seemed to portend the coming of war.

Yet Dumbledore's soul remained unmoved, suggesting the war itself held little significance for him.

Until—

Buzz!

A colossal giant materialized, extending from above. This was no transparent, illusory image.

No, it appeared more akin to an illusory realm.

It contained mountains, breezes, grasses, and even life forms.

At this sight, the entire vision began to tremble, and the space grew chaotic.

Dumbledore's soul stared intently at the transparent realm above the giant's head.

His eyes filled with murderous intent.

The implicit message was clear: only one of them—Dumbledore or the giant—could survive.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, a breeze swept through, dispersing the chaotic mist and extinguishing the transparent flames.

Dumbledore's soul once again floated alone in the center of the space.

Like an automaton, he closed his eyes expressionlessly and remained motionless.

Simultaneously, an inexplicable wave began spreading throughout the wizarding world.

Sleeping magical creatures, powerful wizards, and other beings stirred in response.

London, Commonwealth Wizarding Building

Voldemort stood silently before the attic window.

He gazed down at London, watching the city recover swiftly from recent devastation.

Suddenly—

A mysterious wave of energy washed over the Wizarding Building.

A faint smile appeared on Voldemort's face.

Finally.

He had waited patiently, even at the cost of millions of lives in London.

All for this moment.

Consider, he thought, how he had come to rule the world.

Beyond his personal strength, his success stemmed primarily from his alignment with destiny.

No—more accurately, his alignment with the world's will.

The world had required unification, and he had obliged.

Thus, the Federal Empire had been established with surprising ease.

Now, the world sought to eliminate invaders.

Similarly, by flowing with this current, he would receive the world's full support.

He didn't believe that even Lockhart could withstand the power of an entire world unified against him.

Boom!

The royal staff in his hand rose gently, then fell heavily. With a thunderous sound, an invisible ripple spread throughout the building and rapidly expanded outward.

It engulfed London before traveling still further afield.

Simultaneously, Voldemort's voice reached the ears of every wizard in the realm.

"Heed the World's Will."

"Use all your strength to hunt down the invaders from another world led by Kamar-Taj."

Chapter 720: Power Plays

Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, New York

In the principal's office, Luca, the headmaster of Ilvermorny, waved the wand in his hand with practiced precision.

Dots of fluorescence appeared in the air before him.

These luminous points floated gracefully, moving in response to the subtle movements of his wand.

The fluorescent lights intersected and collided with one another, apparently demonstrating some arcane principle.

Luca's face remained serious as the wand in his hand continued its intricate motions.

Hiss!

As if he had touched something forbidden, he let out a sharp intake of breath. Suddenly, a milky white flame erupted in the air.

In less than a second, all the floating light points were consumed by the flame.

Simultaneously, Principal Luca's face turned ashen. He quickly retrieved several vials of potion from his robes and drained them in rapid succession.

"Why?" he gasped after a moment, having seemingly recovered. He sighed deeply and sank back into his chair.

"What troubled times!"

"What troubled times indeed!"

The few words of emotion conveyed unwillingness, fear, and profound loneliness.

The peaceful life that had remained stable for nearly thirty years had been completely shattered in an instant.

What followed was a war whose outcome no one could predict.

What in Merlin's name did they mean by "invaders from another world"?

What had once existed only in goblin tales and imagination had somehow become reality.

The impact of this revelation continued to reverberate.

He still doubted whether the claims were true.

After all, he was familiar with Kamar-Taj and had even met Lockhart in person.

How could they possibly be connected to invaders from another world? It couldn't be a baseless accusation.

But when he considered the scale of the current mobilization, such doubts were instantly dismissed.

With His Majesty's current power, there was no need to fabricate charges.

More significantly, elite mages from every continent had been mobilized to form an association of otherworldly hunters, pursuing the alleged invaders with unprecedented resources.

Such expenditure of energy would never be wasted on a mere pretense.

The very thought gave him a splitting headache.

And it wasn't his fault.

Who could have predicted that Kamar-Taj, now labeled a dark wizard organization, had been most active in the United States?

Naturally, this hunter-killer association had gravitated toward America.

When he considered that elite wizards from across the Federation were converging on America, his toes curled involuntarily.

The future would definitely not be peaceful.

Not only was he concerned, but the governors of the Americas also suffered severe headaches.

They could tolerate one or two foreign wizards, but not groups arriving to establish permanent residence.

Destroy them quickly—this was the unspoken wish.

He had already anticipated the level of chaos that would soon engulf America.

Conflicts between wizards—especially powerful ones—could not be easily resolved.

He felt a high probability that the situation would spiral beyond his control.

As the principal of Ilvermorny, he represented one of the most powerful figures in the American wizarding world.

Naturally, he was reluctant to yield. He couldn't allow others to enter his territory and stand unchallenged above him.

Just as his headache intensified—

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A loud knocking sound came from outside the principal's office.

"Come in!" Luca called calmly.

The door opened to admit a witch wearing dark green robes.

"Principal Luca, Governor Weir, Director Draco, and the other department directors have arrived," she announced respectfully.

Luca nodded slightly, waving his hand dismissively. "Have them gather in the banquet hall. I'll join shortly."

"Understood." The witch nodded and turned to leave.

With a soft click, the office door closed securely.

A smile briefly flickered across Luca's otherwise somber expression before quickly vanishing.

Having finally ascended to the position of principal, he had become a power broker in America.

He refused to accept that after years of struggle, he might be relegated to serving as another's subordinate.

America was vast and quite distant from London.

Consequently, control from the capital was less stringent.

For many wizards, America represented a remote but free frontier.

The counterpart to such freedom was, inevitably, chaos.

Luca, who had managed to establish himself in such an environment and even rise to its pinnacle, was certainly no fool.

As principal of a prestigious magic school, he commanded numerous talented wizards and controlled substantial resources.

To a significant extent, his power rivaled that of the American Minister of Magic.

Officially, of course, the school operated under the Ministry's authority.

He walked to the mirror, examining his reflection.

Out of habit, he adjusted his sleeves and touched his wand.

The next moment—

Buzz!

With a wave of his wand, shadows flickered, and he disapparated.

Moments later, Luca materialized in a spacious, brilliantly lit banquet hall.

Present were Governor Weir of the Americas, responsible for Muggle affairs; Draco, the Director of Aurors; Kroll, Director of the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters; Bryn, Director of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; and various other Ministry officials.

As the black light of his apparition faded, all eyes turned toward Principal Luca.

"Principal Luca, your energy remains impressive!"

"Haha, I appreciate the compliment. How have you been?"

"Principal, don't forget the cooperation we discussed previously."

"Don't worry, I've already made the necessary arrangements."

"Principal, I came immediately upon receiving your summons. What's the situation?"

"We'll discuss that shortly..."

When everyone saw Luca's arrival, they hurried forward to greet him, engaging in pleasantries.

None of the powers represented here were inconsequential, though their spheres of influence varied, creating numerous opportunities for mutual cooperation.

Luca, who held the highest status among them, was also their host.

He had specifically invited them; how could they not show proper respect?

As the lowest-ranking attendee, Director of the Auror Office Draco did not rush to offer flattery.

Although his superior was present, Draco felt no need to ingratiate himself. A simple greeting and blending into the gathering would suffice.

After all, when your father serves as Finance Minister for the entire Federation, a certain pride is justified.

However, recent events had somewhat elevated his enthusiasm.

Coming from a pure-blood family, Draco possessed solid etiquette and social skills.

"Director Draco, it's been quite some time," Luca said gently. "I believe we last met three months ago at the Law Enforcement Department banquet."

Luca's manner betrayed no excessive warmth.

Though Draco's position was relatively minor, his connections were formidable.

Lucius served directly under His Majesty Riddle, controlling the Federation's entire financial apparatus.

Anyone aware of this would hardly dismiss the junior Auror Director.

Throughout America, Draco enjoyed a somewhat transcendent status.

No one would deliberately obstruct him.

Of course, this didn't warrant Luca's fawning attention.

At this level, appearances must be maintained.

He was merely Lucius's son, not Lucius himself.

"Yes, unfortunately, we couldn't speak at length then," Draco replied with matching enthusiasm.

"My father specifically mentioned that I should learn from you whenever possible," he added, skillfully referencing his father.

"Indeed? Minister Lucius said that?" Luca laughed. "Then we must certainly communicate more frequently."

"I've noticed the Auror division has suffered significant losses recently and requires replenishment."

"I'll speak with Terrence about recruiting more talented individuals. After all, Aurors stand on the front lines and need only the elite."

Luca thus expressed his goodwill.

Establishing oneself in America required not only personal strength but also powerful connections.

Lucius, like Draco, operated at the center of Federal politics.

This was relationship-building.

Of course, Luca hadn't reached his position without his own influential backing.

But Lucius's assistance wasn't unwelcome.

Hearing this, Draco's face brightened with a smile.

Both men were seasoned operators; neither engaged in pointless games.

Recognizing Luca's overture, Draco expressed his gratitude: "Indeed, the Principal has been most helpful."

"The situation has grown tense recently. Aurors urgently need to recruit additional wizards."

Draco added meaningfully: "I trust the Headmaster will train more exceptional wizards, providing Aurors with superior candidates."

Training wizards required financial resources.

Exceptional wizards demanded even greater investment.

When the Finance Minister's son made such a statement, it required little imagination to understand he was offering monetary support.

Recognizing this, Luca's smile widened appreciably.

Intelligent conversation was truly refreshing.

He then approached his actual objective, asking casually: "By the way, Draco, what do you know about the Alien Hunters Association?"

"Naturally, how could news of such magnitude escape our attention?" The smile faded from Draco's face.

"I've received reports that several top Aurors are being transferred to join the Hunter-Slayer Association."

Hearing this, Luca inquired softly: "I wonder if Director Draco received an invitation?"

Luca's question visibly darkened Draco's expression.

Indeed, he had received no invitation.

Evidently, certain individuals had intervened to exclude him.

But he dared not elaborate, as the matter involved His Majesty's direct orders.

Before he could respond, Luca quickly added: "I believe the Alien Hunters Association would benefit significantly from Director Draco's guidance."

"With your familiarity with the dark wizards of Kamar-Taj..."

"You would surely excel in fulfilling His Majesty's directives."

Luca emphasized Draco's experience rather than his magical strength.

But that distinction hardly mattered.

Draco understood Luca's implied offer—not only membership in the Hunter Association but a leadership position.

This proposition...

It was almost too perfect.

The wizards recruited for the Otherworld Hunters Association would all be elite practitioners.

Magical prowess represented the non-negotiable standard.

The implications were obvious. The Hunting Association would inevitably become the core of future military power.

Simply put: whoever controlled the Hunter Association controlled Federal force.

With a father serving as Federal Finance Minister, why had Draco accepted the Auror position?

Precisely because his family had already reached the pinnacle in finance and now required force to maintain their position.

Of course, these circumstances explained why he remained merely Director of the Auror Office.

The overt and covert suppression of his advancement required no elaboration.

After all, no one appreciates an individual holding both financial power and martial authority.

Therefore, while somewhat resentful, Draco had maintained relative peace with his situation.

Now, however, Luca's words ignited the ambition smoldering deep within his heart.

He harbored no doubts regarding Luca's capacity to deliver on this promise.

In America, Luca's influence had reached its zenith.

If the hunting association operated in Europe or Asia, Luca's effectiveness might prove limited.

But here in America, Luca could fully leverage his power and connections.

In this regard, Draco remained confident.

"I must express my gratitude, Principal Luca," Draco said, his eagerness mingled with anticipation.

"We all serve His Majesty's interests. Helping His Majesty eliminate otherworldly invaders represents our highest priority," Luca replied with a diplomatic smile.

Draco returned the smile, pleased with this exchange.

Then—

"Director Draco, I understand you encountered an intruder in London recently."

"What impressions did you form regarding these intruders' capabilities?"

Luca's question caused Draco's expression to freeze.

He couldn't help recalling those traumatic memories.

"Strong... extraordinarily strong," he eventually replied, his voice heavy.

Luca listened intently.

Draco's invitation to this banquet served multiple purposes beyond courting Lucius's favor.

Most critically, Luca sought detailed information about these dark wizards and otherworldly invaders through Draco's firsthand experience.

After all, "Know your enemy and know yourself, and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."

This wisdom applied universally.

To ascend within the Hunter Association, results would prove paramount.

"At that time, not only did these invaders appear, but His Majesty himself was present," Draco continued.

His statement immediately captured Luca's complete attention.

When discussing His Majesty Tom Riddle, even seemingly minor details carried immense significance.

"These invaders naturally proved no match for His Majesty, yet they managed to escape His Majesty's presence..."

New York

At that moment, the street presented an unusual sight. Most surrounding shops had closed.

Numerous trucks and massive construction equipment operated slowly, producing creaking sounds.

Strangely, the machines moved without human operators.

Moreover, they simply ran without performing any actual work.

The originally tall apartment building had been reduced to half its height.

It appeared to be continuously shrinking.

Had a wizard arrived and penetrated the magical veil concealing reality, they would have witnessed the truth.

The high-rise apartment had completely vanished, leaving only a vast flat space with piles of stone materials nearby.

Ian, Vera, and two others led a group of wizards, waving their wands to apply transformation spells to the surrounding environment.

They created solid ground and established a sturdy foundation.

Magic spells polished the stones and transported them to the center of the cleared area.

Various stones assembled continuously, forming walls, structures, and staircases.

With magic's assistance, what would normally require six months or even a year to build would be completed in just two or three days.