The massive doors of the Wizengamot remained open as, little by little, Britain's most influential wizards and witches took their seats. The usual murmur of conversations about politics, alliances whispered under their breath, and hallway debates filled the majestic semicircular chamber.
At the center of the main dais, commanding the room with a presence that ran cold through the veins yet demanded respect, Lord Voldemort—hidden behind the impeccable and powerful facade of Minister Tom Gaunt—was already seated. With his hands resting on the armrests of his chair, he watched patiently as each of the lords, ladies, and department heads took their respective seats.
When his piercing gaze confirmed that there was not a single empty seat left and that the doors were closing with a dull thud, the Minister of Magic rose to his feet.
Silence fell over the chamber at that very moment.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot, I thank you all for attending this extraordinary session," Voldemort began, his magically amplified voice resonating with perfect authority in every corner of the chamber. "As the vast majority of you already know, have heard, or sense, our nation and the entire continent are facing a growing threat. We are witnessing the return to the public stage of a curious figure from the past who is systematically spreading terror throughout the wizarding world once again."
At the subtle yet unmistakable mention of that European dark wizard, dozens of heads instinctively turned toward the upper galleries, searching for the face of Albus Dumbledore. The Archmage and Conqueror of Grindelwald, radiating his deceptive youth, simply offered a serene smile and folded his hands in his lap, paying little attention to the inquisitive and accusatory glances cast his way by those closest to him.
Tom Gaunt did not let the distraction last too long. He straightened his posture and continued, aiming directly at the most sensitive point for everyone present.
"However, this conflict is no longer a distant problem on the borders of Europe," the Minister declared, hardening his tone. "Following an exhaustive investigation by our Department of Magical Security, I can officially confirm to you today that the brutal attack carried out by an Obscurial at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a few months ago was planned and carried out by Gellert Grindelwald and his associates."
The chamber erupted.
As if a spark had been thrown into a powder keg, cries of outrage, terror, and fury echoed through the Wizengamot. Lords and ladies of pure-blood families, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns alike rose to their feet, demanding answers and cursing the Dark Wizard. The safety of their children, the future of their lineages, and the sanctity of Hogwarts had been violated. Fear quickly turned into a collective thirst for blood.
Voldemort watched the chaos with deep satisfaction. He had them exactly where he wanted them. With a single motion, he raised a hand into the air. The simple action, charged with his overwhelming magical pressure, forced silence to return to the courtroom immediately.
"I understand your anger. I assure you that I am just as outraged as all of you," said Voldemort, projecting the image of an unyielding and relentless leader. "No one attacks our children, family, and friends on our own soil and lives to tell the tale."
Seizing the moment the Minister had created, Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat and spoke in a firm voice.
"That is why we must do something about it, and we must do it now," Albus declared, his gaze sweeping across the chamber. "If we sit idly by waiting for the world's other governments to shake off their lethargy or for the International Confederation to resolve this problem for us, by the time we're ready to act, it will already be too late for Great Britain. Grindelwald does not negotiate with anyone, and he will stop at nothing to achieve his goal."
From the right wing, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the ever-upright and unyielding Amelia Bones, nodded vigorously and stood up to second the headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore is absolutely right," declared Bones, adjusting her monocle. "This is no time for internal disputes or partisan politics. We must set aside our differences and join forces to confront a common enemy that threatens the very fabric of our society and traditions."
Voldemort nodded toward Amelia and then let his gaze sweep across the courtroom.
"The situation is clear. The question now is: do you have any questions before we proceed?" asked the Minister, officially opening the debate.
And the doubts poured in. Over the next few hours, the Wizengamot turned into a battlefield. Representatives from each of the factions—the Light, the Neutrals, and the Dark—took the floor. They asked exhaustive questions about the tactical plan of action, the mobilization of the Aurors, the war budget, the organization of defenses at critical points such as Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and how diplomacy with neighboring countries would be handled.
Voldemort, strategically supported by Dumbledore's calculated interventions and the military insight of the most experienced members in the room, responded to every concern with great precision and absolute mastery of the facts. They debated, discussed, and refined the terms of the mobilization for hours, weaving a web of agreements that would ensure the full backing of the magical elite for what was to come.
Finally, when the sun had already begun to set in the outside world and exhaustion was beginning to show on the bureaucrats' faces, the Minister called for a vote.
"All those in favor of Magical Britain mobilizing its forces and formally declaring war on Gellert Grindelwald and his army, raise your hands," Voldemort ordered.
Silence fell over the chamber.
Slowly, from Dumbledore to Lucius Malfoy, including Sirius Black, Frank Longbottom, and Arthur Weasley, each of the representatives present began to raise their hands. There was no hesitation. There were no abstentions.
Voldemort looked out at the sea of raised arms, and a triumphant smile curved his lips.
Unanimously, the Wizengamot had voted in favor. The war had officially begun, and he had all of Great Britain's military power under his command.
The wind gently caressed the green grass of Hogwarts' vast grounds, carrying with it the fresh scent of the Black Lake and the forest in the distance.
Aurelian and Flora were lying on the grass, away from the hustle and bustle of the other students. They were patiently waiting for Hestia to finish her impromptu first class in Care of Magical Creatures. As they gazed at the vast blue sky and the white clouds drifting lazily overhead, Flora intertwined her slender fingers with Aurelian's, clutching his hand tightly.
Without taking her eyes off the sky, Flora broke the comfortable silence with a soft voice.
"What exactly are we doing, my love?" Flora asked him.
Aurelian turned his head on the grass to look at her. He admired her cool, beautiful eyes for a second before leaning in slightly to place a tender kiss on the tip of her nose.
"We're enjoying life, my love," Aurelian replied with complete naturalness. "Simply that. Nothing more and nothing less."
A small smile played on Flora's lips. She nestled her head a little closer to him and sighed.
"That's a very good plan, Aurelian," she murmured, closing her eyes.
The two of them stayed there, lost in their tranquility. They listened to the wind blowing over them, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees, and felt the warmth of the sun beating directly on their faces. It was a moment of perfect peace, a rare oasis in the midst of the storm they both knew was coming.
That calm remained intact until a silhouette stepped between them and the light, casting a shadow that completely blocked out the sun.
Aurelian slowly opened his eyes and, recognizing the figure watching them from above, smiled.
"Hello, Hestia," Aurelian greeted her, without moving from his spot. "How did your class with the illustrious Newt Scamander go?"
Hestia let out a little snort, smoothing out the folds of her skirt before letting herself sink down onto the grass, sitting right next to her fiancé.
"It was... entertaining, I suppose," Hestia conceded, crossing her arms with a hint of haughtiness. "Honestly, I was expecting something more aggressive or lethal. He had us feed some cute but boring Nifflers. Although I must admit that seeing the inside of Scamander's famous magical suitcase was truly fascinating. He has an entire ecosystem in there."
Aurelian propped himself up on his elbows and then sat up fully, brushing a couple of blades of grass off his robe.
"It'll surely get better with time, and he'll show you more interesting beasts. Don't get discouraged so quickly—remember, you're learning from the best in the field," Aurelian encouraged her with a smile.
Hestia nodded slightly and immediately leaned back against Aurelian's right shoulder, claiming her usual spot.
They were about to resume their break when the sound of hurried footsteps and heavy breathing shattered the bubble of tranquility. Draco Malfoy appeared, running up the hill. The Malfoy heir was unusually agitated, his robes disheveled and his blond hair slightly tousled by the wind.
He was holding a copy of the newspaper in his hand, clutching it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
"Aurelian… Aurelian," Draco gasped as he reached them, stopping to catch his breath. "You have… you have to read this right away—it's important."
Draco handed her the crumpled newspaper. Aurelian took it with a slight frown.
"Thanks, Draco," Aurelian said, noticing the panic in the boy's gray eyes.
Draco simply nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and walked away as fast as he could, as if the newspaper itself were cursed.
Noticing the boy's strange behavior, Flora got up from the grass and rested her chin on Aurelian's left shoulder, flanking him alongside her sister to see what was so important.
Aurelian unfolded the pages of Daily Prophet.
There, on the front page, in giant black letters that seemed to scream from the paper, and accompanied by a moving photograph showing Gellert Grindelwald's cold, calculating face surrounded by blue fire, the headline read clearly:
GRINDELWALD, BRITAIN'S PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE: THE WIZENGAMOT OFFICIALLY DECLARES WAR.
Aurelian, Hestia, and Flora's eyes widened at the same time, the magnitude of the news hitting them full force. The pieces on the global chessboard had just shifted abruptly, and the game for the safety of the wizarding world had officially begun.
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