"Father, are you certain?" Draco's voice carried a bitter edge, his demeanor visibly unsettled.
His anxiety was understandable. If wizards of Grindelwald and Dumbledore's caliber had indeed returned, even the most obtuse observer would recognize their inevitable pursuit of vengeance.
Draco's position in America—tasked with apprehending dark wizards, specifically the remnants of Kamar-Taj and Hogwarts—placed him squarely in potential danger. Would these returned powers not target him specifically?
Lucius responded with a solemn nod. This concern had motivated his urgent summons for his son. The reemergence of legendary wizards represented both crisis and opportunity.
Dangers certainly existed, particularly for his son stationed in America confronting Kamar-Taj and Hogwarts loyalists. If powerful wizards had returned, Draco might become an expedient sacrifice.
Yet simultaneously, achieving significant results during this volatile period would undoubtedly earn recognition from His Majesty Tom Riddle. Should that occur, Draco's return to London and advancement within the law enforcement hierarchy would transform from distant aspiration to attainable reality.
Observing his father's expression, Draco's complexion fluctuated, though he maintained silence. He comprehended the underlying reason for his father's summons.
He now faced a pivotal choice: remain in America, risking his life while continuing to hunt dark wizards in hopes of attracting His Majesty's attention—or strategically withdraw under his father's aegis, surrendering his current position to return to the safety of Malfoy Manor. From there, he could patiently monitor developments before determining his next move.
For ordinary wizards, no such choice would exist. But as son of the Federal Finance Minister and heir to the Malfoy legacy, he possessed this privilege of agency.
This very privilege generated his profound ambivalence. Could he truly abandon over a decade of independent effort? Simply relinquish everything he'd built?
Draco remained silent, his internal conflict evident. As a father, Lucius waited patiently. Whatever decision his son reached, he would accept it. After all, his son had matured—a man in his fifties occupying a position of considerable influence could hardly be considered a child.
Time passed slowly, a palpable tension permeating the manor's lawn.
Suddenly—
Buzz!
A faint silver-gray ripple materialized, enveloping the surrounding area. Simultaneously, a feminine voice with an ambiguous tone—neither entirely amused nor completely serious—broke the silence.
"Please, continue your discussion. Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy—what course will you select?"
"Who intrudes here?" In perfect synchronization, both Lucius and Draco brandished their wands, voices sharp with alarm. They appeared poised to activate the manor's defensive enchantments.
Yet—nothing happened.
In the next instant, a figure materialized before them.
"Avada Kedavra!" "Divine Edge Shadowless!"
The moment the intruder appeared, Lucius and Draco raised their wands in unison, directing potent spells toward the mysterious figure with lightning efficiency.
However—
Buzz!
The figure opposite them extended a right hand casually. A silver-gray light barrier materialized, intercepting both spells instantly upon impact.
The barrier rippled like disturbed water but showed no indication of fracturing. As the figure executed a subtle grasping motion, the barrier began contracting.
Within mere moments, the light barrier had enveloped both spells, condensing into a silver-gray orb of energy attached to the figure's hand. Two distinct magical signatures—one red, one green—continued struggling within the sphere, yet remained firmly contained.
Witnessing this effortless neutralization of their magic, Lucius's expression transformed. Clearly, this visitor's abilities vastly exceeded both his own and his son's.
"My friend," Lucius stated with forced composure, "what do you desire? Whatever your conditions, the Malfoy family will endeavor to meet them. I request only one concession—allow my son to depart unharmed."
Draco, hearing his father plead for his safety, attempted to interject. Before he could speak, however, Lucius silenced him with a severe glance.
Mentally, Lucius rapidly cataloged potential identities for their visitor—a political rival, an agent of His Majesty Tom Riddle, perhaps some dark wizard from the resistance.
The figure before them solidified, revealing a vaguely familiar countenance.
"Vera Fatil!" Draco exclaimed before Lucius could react.
Having dedicated years to hunting Kamar-Taj operatives and Hogwarts-affiliated dark wizards, Draco immediately recognized one of Gilderoy Lockhart's earliest recruited students. Vera Fatil's identity was unmistakable, despite her long absence.
Like her teacher Lockhart, she had reportedly vanished years ago—just as Professor McGonagall and other Hogwarts faculty had disappeared alongside Dumbledore.
"It seems my reputation persists," Vera remarked, examining the two imprisoned spells hovering within her grasp. "More than thirty years have passed in this realm, yet I remain remembered. Fascinating—many intriguing developments must have occurred during these decades."
With a casual gesture, she released the silver-gray orb of light. Countless silver-gray particles dispersed, transforming the immediate environment.
A silver-gray table materialized, accompanied by three chairs positioned before both parties. Vera seated herself with natural confidence, beckoning them forward with a languid wave.
"Join me," she invited, her voice carrying an indolent quality. "Recount the events of these past thirty years. Speak candidly, and your lives shall be spared."
Draco and Lucius exchanged glances, noting both Vera's unchanged youthful appearance and the formidable power evident in her casual displays of magic. Slowly, cautiously, they approached and settled into the offered chairs.
Vera spoke again, her tone now infused with unmistakable coldness.
"Dismiss any notion of contacting your master. No information can penetrate my containment field. Once, Voldemort was merely another defeated adversary of my teacher. His current status exists solely because external circumstances prevented my teacher's return—allowing the monkey to crown himself king."
Lucius remained silent upon hearing this assessment. Similar sentiments had crossed his mind previously. Nevertheless, he harbored uncertainty regarding the relative strengths of His Majesty and Lockhart. After all, the former Dark Lord had maintained control over this vast magical empire for nearly three decades. His current capabilities surely surpassed anything previously imaginable.
Draco appeared skeptical yet demonstrated admirable restraint, recognizing this was no occasion for defiance. Such impulses would constitute nothing short of suicidal recklessness.
"Your Excellency Vera Fatil," Lucius began with calculated deference, "we welcome your return. What specific information do you seek? We shall withhold nothing within our knowledge and express everything we know."