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."