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!"