Construction of the New York Sanctum
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
In mid-air, wands moved with gentle precision, guiding pieces of wood, stone, and metal as they floated upward from the ground and merged into the massive structure taking shape before them.
Simultaneously, another set of wands choreographed the appearance of dark yellow, deep crimson, and pure white silken threads that materialized in the air, forming intricate runic patterns one after another.
These arcane symbols seamlessly integrated into the building's very fabric.
Occasionally, droplets of dark cyan liquid—each exuding a powerful magical aura—could be seen floating in the air before being absorbed bit by bit into the structure.
Around the building, a dozen wizards skilled in transfiguration and alchemy formed a perfect circle. Each followed their own floating blueprint, contributing specific elements to the whole.
The New York Sanctum served as Kamar-Taj's frontline defense of Earth and represented one of the core bulwarks against dimensional invasion.
Over countless centuries, sorcerers had continuously optimized and refined its design.
Simply put, it stood as one of Kamar-Taj's greatest assets.
The existence of the three major Sanctums alone enabled sorcerers to resist dimensional threats.
Such a crucial installation—even its architectural plans—constituted one of Kamar-Taj's most closely guarded secrets.
Had Lockhart not become Sorcerer Supreme, access to these designs would have been absolutely forbidden.
Even Ian, Vera, Kaecilius, Snape, and the others now participating in the construction had obtained the blueprints only after signing the most stringent non-disclosure contracts imaginable.
Throughout the entire construction process, no sorcerers beyond their immediate circle were permitted to witness the proceedings.
This alone demonstrated the paramount importance of the three Sanctums.
A treasure capable of helping mortals resist gods deserved extraordinary protection.
Whoosh!
With a subtle flick of her wand, Vera floated forward through the air until she reached Carter's side.
Observing the principal who was concentrating on inscribing intricate runes, Vera spoke softly: "Principal, after we complete this, I have a proposition I'd like to discuss with you."
Carter glanced sideways at her former student, nodded briefly, and returned to her wand work, continuing to build the New York Sanctum.
The most pressing concern remained bringing Kamar-Taj's people safely into the wizarding world.
Everyone present understood what Voldemort had set in motion.
The two Federations—essentially the entire planet—had mobilized their elite wizards for a single purpose:
To annihilate Kamar-Taj.
New York, Society Building
As the organization currently commanding Federal Emperor Tom Riddle's greatest attention, the Hunter Association's headquarters in New York received substantial preferential resource allocation.
For the headquarters alone, magical resources and alchemical wizards had been directly mobilized to construct a new building—practically a magical fortress.
The defensive capabilities of the entire structure rivaled those of Hogwarts itself.
Its offensive potential was equally formidable.
Membership in the Hunter Association conferred significant advantages. Those within its ranks could easily overcome ten or even a hundred ordinary wizards outside its walls.
Elite practitioners filled every corridor.
The weak could not even approach the building's entrance.
At this moment, a black wizard with a necklace of wild beast fangs around his neck entered. His chest and abdomen remained exposed, his face fierce, marked by a long scar.
He was a dark wizard from Africa—or rather, since he had been officially cleared of such accusations, a hunter.
"Mr. Segura, welcome back to the Association!" a woman with refined features said softly.
The black man, Segura, glanced at her without acknowledgment, then proceeded toward the building's depths.
He walked to the elevator and waited briefly. When the doors slid open, he entered, pressed a button, closed his eyes, and waited.
Ding!
With a crisp chime, the elevator doors parted slowly.
Segura exited with an expressionless face and walked toward the conference room opposite.
Upon reaching the conference room door, he didn't bother knocking—simply pushing it open roughly and striding inside.
Within the conference room, about a dozen wizards sat in small groups, engaged in various discussions.
Seeing Segura's sudden entrance, they briefly glanced his way before returning to their conversations.
After surveying the assembled wizards, Segura found an unoccupied seat, sat alone, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
At every stage of history, chains of discrimination persisted.
Whites discriminated against blacks, Europeans against Africans.
With the Commonwealth now politically centered on the British Isles, both America and Africa were considered relatively peripheral territories.
Africa, however, remained at the lowest rung of the discriminatory hierarchy.
As a black wizard from Africa—and a dark wizard at that—Segura found none of this surprising.
He closed his eyes to meditate, eliminating distracting thoughts to improve his magical strength.
Once his power increased sufficiently, such discrimination would cease to matter.
Tick! Tick! Tick!
The ambient sounds gradually faded from his awareness. Between inhalations and exhalations, the most distinct sound became the rhythmic ticking of the clock.
With heightened focus, Segura contemplated the meeting's purpose.
This Hunter Association had launched with tremendous fanfare, gathering elite wizards from across the Federation.
Yet thus far, despite all their searching and divination efforts, they'd discovered precisely nothing useful.
Instead, they held endless meetings, large and small.
The euphemistic term was "unifying strategic thinking."
There were parties, conferences, private gatherings.
Segura remained indifferent to all this. His only concern was whether the resources previously promised by the Association would be delivered as agreed.
If they failed to provide what was promised...
As a dark wizard, while he preferred not to antagonize the Federation, simply walking away remained an option.
After all...
A child doesn't run errands without getting the promised bun.
He was a dark wizard, accustomed to being hunted and attacked daily.
But he had never developed the habit of working as another's slave.
His thoughts grew increasingly chaotic. In his meditative state, Segura's mind wandered extensively.
Recognizing this, he refocused his attention and resumed proper meditation.
The new magic system offered many advantages. Chief among them was that every wizard could enhance their magical power and spiritual energy through meditation.
Though progress might be gradual and bottlenecks inevitable, it provided a growth path visible to the naked eye.
While he meditated, suddenly—
Boom!
A loud bang erupted as a heavy door slammed shut.
Everyone present turned their attention to the wizard now standing at the head of the conference table.
Dressed in an impeccable suit with polished leather shoes, he embodied the typical pure-blood wizard aesthetic.
"Hello everyone, I'm Draco Malfoy, Head of the Auror Office."
Draco's brief introduction elicited no visible reaction from the assembled wizards.
Though their faces turned toward him, their eyes revealed either indifference or amusement, suggesting minimal interest in his self-introduction.
Then—
"My father is well known to everyone—Lucius Malfoy, Minister of the Commonwealth Treasury."
The moment these words left his lips, the eyes of every wizard present sharpened with sudden focus. They regarded the middle-aged pure-blood wizard before them with newfound seriousness.
Even Segura was no exception.
This was unsurprising—the name Lucius Malfoy commanded immediate attention.
Throughout the wizarding world, everyone recognized Lucius as the Federal Emperor's money manager.
All manner of precious resources passed through Lucius Malfoy's hands.
What mattered most in magical practice?
Beyond knowledge transmission, the most critical factor was access to rare resources.
The man before them—regardless of his personal qualities—was the son of the treasury's keeper.
This alone sufficed to earn the deference of every wizard present.
Draco observed their changed expressions and nodded with satisfaction.
Although he disliked relying on his father's reputation, he couldn't deny its effectiveness.
By middle age, while one might still value saving face, society's harsh lessons taught that sometimes playing one's strongest cards was necessary.
Having just joined the Hunter Association, surrounded by wizards whose powers matched or exceeded his own, establishing a foothold required offering something both accessible and attractive.
For Draco, his most significant asset remained, undeniably, gold Galleons.
Without hesitation, he leveraged his father's influence.
Power now took precedence over pride.
"The Association has formed multiple hunter teams. I serve as one group leader, and everyone present represents the elite I've personally selected."
"I trust that in the coming period, we'll work together to fulfill His Majesty Riddle's directives, neutralize the invaders, and suppress Kamar-Taj."
Draco spoke calmly.
Noting everyone's unchanged expressions, he continued without apparent concern.
"As my team members, you may have limited familiarity with me or my leadership style."
"But understand this: the Malfoy family never treats its cooperative friends poorly."
With these words, Draco made a casual gesture.
Instantly, black light flashed throughout the conference room.
Within seconds, the light subsided, revealing a small black wooden box before each wizard.
Click!
Without any visible intervention, the boxes opened simultaneously.
Upon viewing their contents, everyone's eyes subtly changed.
Segura stared at the Dark Soul Grass within his box—precisely what he urgently needed—and his expression grew solemn.
Dark Soul Grass represented a precious magical material with extraordinary properties in the soul realm, particularly for treating and mitigating magical backlash.
He had recently suffered soul damage while researching certain dark magic and required Dark Soul Grass to alleviate the side effects.
Due to his injuries, he had kept silent about his condition.
With numerous enemies, he understood the principle of not revealing weakness.
Consequently, he had attempted to purchase the herb anonymously through black market channels.
Now, this valuable Dark Soul Grass appeared before him as a gift.
This couldn't be explained by mere wealth.
The other party had clearly gathered extensive information about him personally.
"Everyone, please accept these small meeting gifts," Draco said.
"Should you assist me in the future, know that the Malfoy family's gratitude will be substantial and tangible."
Observing the serious expressions across many wizards' faces, Malfoy's lips curved into a satisfied smile.
Each wizard present had been selected after thorough investigation.
Not only were they powerful, but each possessed unique talents and specialties.
These individuals would help him establish his position within the Association.
Offering precious resources demonstrated not just his generosity, but the message that following him would prove profitable.
Moreover, each resource represented something they urgently needed—a subtle indication that he possessed detailed information about them.
Should they consider betrayal or disloyalty, they might reconsider the safety of friends and family.
The Malfoy family had never built its empire on kindness alone.
As for this intelligence gathering?
It didn't come without substantial investment.
But money was something the Malfoy family never lacked.
Segura studied the Dark Soul Grass in the wooden box.
With a slight smile, he reached out and transferred the floating container into the extension bag at his waist.
Other wizards made identical movements.
Seeing everyone accept his gifts, Draco smiled broadly.
His magical strength might not rank highest among this group—in fact, it fell somewhere in the middle to lower range.
But his financial resources undoubtedly overwhelmed them all.
"Dear team members, I look forward to our future cooperation."
"Should you require anything, please contact me privately."
"The Malfoy family will not disappoint you."
"As it happens, my manor hosts a gathering tonight. Everyone is welcome to attend."
"I promise a few pleasant surprises."
Malfoy's words carried subtle temptation and suggestion.
The assembled wizards, Segura included, displayed faint smiles.
"We wouldn't miss it, Team Leader."
"What's the address, Team Leader? I'd like to prepare accordingly."
Witnessing their enthusiastic responses, Draco's smile deepened.
London, Wizarding Building, Three Floors Underground
The Wizarding Building functioned as the Federation's political center.
Guards protected every level.
However, the three underground floors differed markedly from the rest.
No wizards patrolled here; indeed, few even knew this level existed.
In the collective understanding of the wizarding community, only two underground floors existed.
The first underground level served as a resource storage warehouse, while the second—known only to select high-ranking officials—housed a library containing profound magical knowledge.
All core teachings of the new magic system resided there.
At this moment, in the empty third underground floor, black light suddenly flashed as a figure materialized.
Apparition magic.
The figure that emerged was none other than His Majesty Tom Riddle, known throughout the Federation.
Upon Tom Riddle's arrival, the secret chamber instantly illuminated.
As he lightly tapped his right foot, countless dark red lines appeared across the previously blank chamber's surface.
These lines twisted and intertwined, covering the floor, walls, and ceiling.
At first glance, the entire third underground floor appeared wrapped in dark red webbing.
One could only vaguely perceive the figure existing behind these lines.
Simultaneously, a majestic life essence began to rise as the dark red lines emitted subtle fluorescence.
Wisps of dark red gas materialized throughout the underground chamber.
The scent of blood gradually permeated the air.
Whoosh!
Voldemort spread his arms wide, absorbing the dark red gas with evident pleasure.
This represented the concentrated life essence harvested from London's "natural disaster."
It could not be wasted.
After all, killing people in large numbers without justification would invite the world's contempt.
Now, with others bearing the world's scorn, he could happily enjoy the fruits of their supposed actions.
He wondered idly about the future fate of those wizards now rejected by the very world they sought to protect.