As time passed, more and more shadows were bred and trained by the Black Spire. These new personnel stopped being a rumour and became a nightmare for both the Magical and the Mundane world. They became policy.
In the Alliance, political chairs changed hands without speeches. Military chains of command were replaced without a soul noticing a thing. Boards that had once answered only to profit woke up with the same faces and different minds behind the paperwork. Takeovers were efficient and merciless. Legilimency was the first step, after siphoning the target down to the childhood memories, the Shadows were shifting to the shape of the target and replacing them one by one.
The public saw only results.
Budgets moved in days, not seasons. Contracts stopped bleeding into private pockets. Infrastructure plans went from proposal to ground works with the kind of speed that made older civil servants blink and reach for their tea as if tea could explain it.
It was a strange lesson.
To make government work, someone had to force it to.
The slogans of democracy stayed on posters. The machine underneath ran like an autocracy with decent social policy, and the only thing that mattered was that it delivered.
-
In Magical Britain, Arcturus Black waited in the International Portkey Office with the posture of a man who did not like waiting.
The office had been rebuilt after the old Ministry fractures. Stone walls cleaned of old and recurring wards. Floors polished. New wards set into the ribs of the building so deeply that even the air felt structured. An oak table stood near the centre, bare except for a silver tray with water and a bottle of something stronger for guests who preferred honesty.
Nestborn Aurors held the perimeter.
They stood in pairs, tall enough to make the room feel lower. Rifles rested against chests. Pistols sat in holsters. No wands in sight. The lack of wands was deliberate; it was a statement.
Arcturus stood at the head of the office, hands behind his back. Amelia Bones waited to his right with a folder tucked under her arm. The other department heads formed a neat line, each one chosen for competence or loyalty.
Gellert Grindelwald leaned against a pillar as if he owned it. The bastard looked relaxed in a way only dangerous men could manage.
Vinda Rosier stood a step away, robes severe, posture precise. Headmistress in her official capacity. Her presence lowered the room temperature by a degree without magic.
Arcturus's gaze checked the door once more.
He asked Corvus to attend the meeting, though his heir had been absent for months. All he knew was that Corvus lingered somewhere in the Aegean Sea on personal business. He wondered if the young man had married without inviting him or Grigori's knowledge. Because Elizaveta, that sweet girl, was with him as well. Both he, Grigori, and even Vinda asked about the wedding whenever they saw the couple. A soft chuckle escaped him at the thought: so consumed with building the New Order, the mastermind behind it all had found no time for his own wedding.
The clock's ticking felt louder than it should. He heard heavy footsteps cut across the corridor. The door opened, and Corvus entered only some minutes before the arrival of the MACUSA delegation.
He moved like a blade being drawn, controlled and sharp. The robes fit him cleanly. The collar sat high enough to hide any hint of vulnerability. He did not look at the Aurors. He trusted them; they belonged to him, his structure. Their loyalty, first and foremost, was to him, like every other being that came out of the Nests.
Arcturus watched him and felt the familiar irritation of being surprised by family.
Corvus was taller.
Not in the way a boy grew over a summer. In the way a creature adjusted to a new ceiling. His shoulders filled the space. His presence carried the edge of a predator's attention, the same air he always had, but turned up.
Arcturus could not tell if it was his natural height or the result of his metamorpmagus talent. Maybe he wanted to be as tall as the new breed.
He suspected the answer was both.
Corvus stopped in front of him and inclined his head with the correct amount of respect.
Arcturus returned it. "You cut it close."
Corvus's mouth moved by a fraction. "I arrived before the guests."
Gellert's chuckle came quietly. Vinda did not react. Amelia Bones made a note as if she were recording the weather.
The air tightened.
The portkey circle in the centre of the room flared.
A woman stepped out first.
President Eleanor Whitcomb moved with the calm authority of someone used to rooms bending around her. She had aged well, not softened by time but refined by it. Grey threaded her hair without making her look tired. Her eyes swept the room in a fast, disciplined line.
Behind her came MACUSA's senior delegation.
Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Hector Santiago, set foot on British stone and took in the Nestborn Aurors with a look that measured threat and possibility.
Director of Magical Education, Celeste Ashwood, followed with a leather folio under her arm and a polite smile that did not hide sharp intelligence.
Headmistress of Ilvermorny, Agatha Redwood, walked in robes that carried the weight of an old school. Her gaze held the quiet judgement of someone who had spent decades dealing with children and politicians.
Headmaster of Castelobruxo, Arlindo Ferreira, arrived last, a warm presence wrapped in formal posture. His eyes moved across the office with frank curiosity.
Arcturus stepped forward.
Introductions followed the old etiquette. No haste. Titles mattered most in such settings.
"President Whitcomb," Arcturus began, voice even. "Welcome to Magical Britain. You honour us."
Whitcomb's mouth curved slightly. "Minister Black, I am grateful for your welcome. If it pleases you, I would prefer we proceed directly to the substance."
Arcturus accepted the line with a small nod.
He gestured to Amelia. "Director Bones, Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Amelia stepped forward and offered her hand. The movement stayed firm, no fluster. Whitcomb took it with a firm grip and released without lingering.
Arcturus continued. "Silvanus Selwyn, our educational oversight. Headmistress Rosier, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Vinda inclined her head with the correct cold grace.
Whitcomb matched it with a precise nod, then let her gaze slide to Gellert.
Gellert pushed off the pillar, expression amused.
Arcturus did not pretend. "Director Grindelwald, Defence Against the Muggles."
Whitcomb's eyebrow lifted. "Lord Grindelwald, I wish I had the secret to your youthful appearance. In fact, all of you are looking decades younger than your ages. Must be the island air." Some chuckles rose on both ends. Whitcomb continued. "Your office titles do not hide their purpose. That is, at least, refreshing."
Gellert's smile sharpened. "Euphemism wastes time."
Arcturus turned to the MACUSA side.
Whitcomb gestured with a short movement. "Director Santiago, Magical Law Enforcement and Director Celeste Ashwood, Magical Education."
Santiago offered a hand to Amelia and held her gaze. A mutual assessment passed between them, quiet and professional.
Ashwood stepped to Vinda with polite respect. "Headmistress Rosier. I have heard Hogwarts endured a rough decade."
Vinda's eyes remained steady. "We endured. That is the point."
Whitcomb continued, turning slightly to include both schools. "Headmistress Redwood, Ilvermorny. Headmaster Ferreira, Castelobruxo."
Redwood inclined her head to Vinda. "Hogwarts has always been older than it looks."
Ferreira's smile held warmth. "And stubborn enough to survive its own legends."
Vinda allowed a fraction of approval to show. It vanished immediately.
Whitcomb's attention shifted back to the Aurors.
She walked a slow half circle, boots clicking on stone. Her gaze took in the rifles, the pistols, the bare wand holsters.
"I notice your Aurors do not carry wands," she observed. They stood like a statue that might decide to move.
Whitcomb's eyes narrowed. "And you permit Muggle weapons in the hands of your Aurors."
Gellert's chuckle returned. He stepped closer to Corvus with the casual intimacy of a man who enjoyed the reactions he caused.
"You can thank him," Gellert noted, a hand gesturing toward Corvus as if he were presenting a piece of art.
Whitcomb's gaze landed on Corvus. He stood still, not looking flattered.
Gellert's voice stayed light, almost conversational. "Wandless work. Silent casting. Enchantments on rifles and pistols. Imagine the luxury of sending over ten Bombarda Maximas a second over six hundred yards."
Santiago's face tightened. Ashwood's eyes widened, then narrowed as if she was calculating. Wand magic has many advantages and some disadvantages; the most glaring one is range. How far can a witch or a wizard could send a curse or a hex? How fast would the spell travel?
Gellert continued with deliberate cruelty. "Or change the spell into a piercing hex with the same firing rate and distance. With some of these rifles, the range increases dramatically."
Whitcomb's gaze remained on Corvus. The lines around her eyes deepened in thought.
"I've heard about you, Master Black. The youngest Wizards to graduate with over-the-charts marks from Durmstrang, the youngest master over multiple disciplines and a remarkable duelist. MACUSA would be pleased to establish a close working relationship with you, should you find it acceptable."
Corvus inclined his head once. Respectful and controlled. "We may organise a meeting, within the bounds of proper confidence, of course."
Arcturus watched the exchange and felt the relief of progress mixed with the discomfort of giving his heir a diplomatic stage. Corvus was a heavyweight. Heavy enough to change any equation he is put in. Even though he mentioned on multiple occasions how he disliked the political part of the New Order.
He moved the room forward before it could stall.
"This way."
The delegation walked out of the office and into the corridor leading to the prepared meeting hall.
The Ministry's rebuilt wing carried clean stone and old wards. Torches burned with a steady blue flame. Portraits watched with polite expressions, their subjects instructed to behave.
As they walked, conversation settled into a careful rhythm.
Ashwood fell into step beside Vinda and glanced at the enchanted rifles carried by the Aurors. "Your students see this."
Vinda's gaze did not leave the corridor ahead. "They see the world as it is. Not as it was sold to them. We have classes to teach them how to use such weapons."
Redwood's eyes flicked to the Nestborn Aurors. "I wonder, Headmistress Rosier, how come such remarkable Wizards were not noticed by the Magical world before. Children will want to imitate them for their stature alone."
Vinda's tone stayed flat. "Children imitate power, Headmistress Redwood."
Ferreira spoke with quiet curiosity. "In Brazil, our students learn to handle creatures first. Power comes later as it scales on too many aspects and levels."
Vinda acknowledged it with a small nod. "Different threats. Same lesson."
Santiago walked beside Amelia, voice low. "You trust firearms."
Amelia's mouth tightened. "I trust trained people, director. The weapons are tools."
Santiago's eyes moved over the Aurors again. "They look like enchanted golems. Their posture and size cannot be natural."
Amelia did not confirm or deny any part of the questions. "They are our Aurors, Director Santiago. They are effective and lethal on extreme levels. We can arrange an organisation where they will compete if you wish."
Whitcomb let the side conversations run and then spoke into the middle with calm authority. "The world has changed quickly."
Arcturus's pace did not alter. "Because it was forced."
Whitcomb's gaze flicked to Gellert. "Because you chose to show yourselves."
Gellert's smile turned faintly sharp. "The Muggles were going to notice eventually. Better they notice on our terms."
Whitcomb's eyes held him for a beat, then shifted to Corvus. "And your terms seem to include old gods."
Corvus answered without hesitation. "Old pantheons provide identity without surrender. They also provide a story older than the institutions that claim monopoly."
Ashwood looked interested. "You are guiding culture."
Corvus's reply stayed blunt. "Culture guides behaviour. Behaviour guides compliance."
Arcturus kept his face neutral and let the truth hang. There was no point pretending the new order was gentle.
Whitcomb's voice softened by a degree. "Your war over Continental Africa raised questions about the political stance of.. GAIA on racial issues. MACUSA has never cared for Muggle racism. We have our own sins."
Gellert's laughter stayed quiet, without humour. "Magicals never fought over skin colour, President. That is a Muggle obsession."
Corvus sighed, unable to fathom the cruel absurdity of dividing human beings by the colour of their skin. As though melanin itself, or the very shape of the earth, had ever cast a vote across the centuries.
Arcturus's tone stayed cold. "We fought over blood. Purity, and the safety of our world."
Redwood's mouth tightened. "And we paid for it." His mind was already on the list of Witches hanged, crushed under heavy stones or left to rot and die in prison cells. The Salem Witch Trials were a deep scar on the Magicals of America.
Vinda's eyes remained forward. "And we learned what happens when we let fools lead."
The corridor opened into a set of double doors.
The meeting hall beyond had been prepared like a royal audience chamber. A long table of dark wood. Chairs arranged by rank. A low hum in the air from wards that would keep eavesdroppers out.
Arcturus paused at the threshold and looked at the delegation.
"We cooperate," he stated, simply.
Whitcomb returned the look with the calm of a woman who understood leverage. "We cooperate. The Magical World has enough enemies without us becoming one another's."
Corvus's gaze held hers for a beat, then shifted to the hall.
They stepped inside.