The three kids chose to sleep under the stars for the night. Shenlian waved her hand slowly, and the land and grass folded into a wide, comfortable bed. Cushions and blankets appeared as if from nowhere, settling neatly around them.

A soft mist rose and drifted upward, swallowing the moonlight until the sky dimmed as though the moon itself had been turned off. The children gazed at the darkening canopy above, smiling before closing their eyes and drifting into dreamland.

Meanwhile, in Switzerland, the International Confederation of Wizards Conference was being held near Lake Geneva.

A citadel, carved into the face of a towering mountain, floated majestically above the water. Inside, a grand circular amphitheater was filled with magical leaders from across the globe.

The seating arrangement consisted of individual levitating platforms, arranged in three perfect concentric rings. Lanterns floated high above, glowing faintly as runes and layers of protective enchantments shimmered briefly around the hall, a visible reminder of the immense power safeguarding the gathering.

Albus Dumbledore presided from the head seat.

“I thank every one of the world leaders present here,” he said, his voice carrying with ease as he swept his gaze over the assembly. “I hope the festivities of yesterday were welcoming to you all.” His eyes paused on Simon, and a warm, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“I would like to welcome some new faces to the conference.” He took out some papers and started reading some names and introducing the people.

“Next: Lord Simon Hawthorne.”

Applause rippled through the hall.

“Lord Hawthorne is the new Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, as elected by the esteemed British Minister of Magic,” Dumbledore continued.

Simon inclined his head in acknowledgment, his expression calm but composed. In front of his platform was engraved the sigil of House Hawthorne in the wood-a pointed shield bearing a sword down its center, two serpents coiled elegantly around the blade. The faint glow of its magic cast a subtle silver light on the polished wood beneath his hands.

Dumbledore’s tone softened as he moved to his next introduction.

“I would also like to welcome the delegations of the Sacred Alchemy Sect from China.”

The announcement drew lour applause, especially from the merchants and potion masters.

The sect had joined the ICW at Simon’s recommendation, and everyone present knew it. Their reveal to the wider magical world had been a monumental shift in Asia, and their rise to prominence had been nothing short of meteoric.

The sect master nodded in acknowledgment, his disciple seated beside him wearing a polite smile. Elders stood respectfully behind them, their presence dignified and still.

“And one last addition,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle of pride in his eyes.

“The Spirit Sanctum from Nepal.”

This time the applause were louder, a wave of genuine excitement and reverence from the Delegations of Nepal other then the Sactum.

The Sanctum master gave a graceful nod, while the enormous spectral wolf beside him remained perfectly still, its glowing eyes calmly observing the room.

Nepal’s magical community had been elevated from the second ring to the first solely because of the Sanctum’s introduction and assimilation in their wider magical community.

Its rise had shifted the balance of power, placing Nepal alongside the great magical nations — Britain, America, China, India, and others.

The seating of the conference was deliberate:

First Ring – The most powerful nations and organizations.

Second Ring – Smaller but well-established magical societies.

Third Ring – New members, merchants, and representatives from international magical-beast reserves.

As proceedings began, petitions were presented. Dumbledore listened attentively, giving each delegation a chance to speak while the ICW clerk unfurled scrolls one by one, reading them aloud with care.

“I present a petition from Lady Cassandra Stormwell,” the clerk announced, his voice steady at first but faltering near the end, “to form an international defense force against the British Dark Lord who… seems to have risen again.”

Gasps and shocked murmurs rippled through the amphitheater like a sudden storm. Dumbledore immediately struck his gavel three times, his calm voice cutting through the chaos.

“Order.”

A woman in her forties rose from her place in the second ring. Her black hair framed her blue eyes, and the Stormwell family sigil above her platform glowed faintly — a swirling tempest encased within a trident crest. Her voice was measured but carried the commanding weight of someone accustomed to leadership.

“My family owns one of the largest magical-creature reserves in America,” she began. Her words immediately drew the attention of the Sacred Alchemy Sect and the Spirit Sanctum delegates, who both turned their heads toward her.

“We discovered a group of a very rare creature some years ago — the Blood-Worm,” she continued, and an immediate stir spread through the more knowledgeable members of the hall. The name alone was enough to raise tension; Blood-Worms were legendary magical creatures, both dangerous and immensely valuable.

“Three months ago, our containment facility was attacked,” Cassandra said, her tone sharpening.

“Our security personnel were slaughtered, the wards torn apart as though they were parchment. Most of the Blood-Worms were destroyed — burned or ripped apart. But when we took count after the attack, we found one missing.”

She paused, drawing a slow, steadying breath.

“In his last moments, one of my keepers used his remaining strength to give me a description of the attacker.”

Her blue eyes swept over the assembly.

“A pale man… with red eyes. One man.”

Her voice rose slightly, emphasizing those final two words until the entire amphitheater felt the weight behind them.

“With that face,” she said, chin lifting proudly, “and with the history surrounding it, I believe we all know who he is.”

She named him anyway, her tone flat, fearless.

“Voldemort.”

The very name sent a shockwave through the gathered crowd.

Murmurs erupted across the British delegation, with only Simon remaining calm and silent, his expression as if her had expected what was happening.

The British Minister of Magic leapt to his feet, his face red with outrage.

“The Dark Lord is dead!” he thundered. “Killed by Harry Potter! I understand that your interests may have been harmed by a dark wizard, Lady Stormwell, but I am certain it was not him!”

Cassandra turned to him slowly, her expression laced with open contempt.

“And how old was this Harry Potter,” she asked coolly, “when he defeated one of the strongest Dark Wizards to ever live?”

The Minister hesitated, then answered stiffly, “He was… an infant.”

Her eyebrow arched higher. “And how exactly would a baby defeat a Dark Lord?”

The Minister faltered, clearly struggling to respond, when one of his aides spoke up hastily to cover for him.

“Harry Potter is the child of prophecy. Fate itself aided him in that moment.”

The murmurs grew louder, half-disbelieving and half-skeptical.

“Order! Order!” Dumbledore’s calm voice rang out as he struck the gavel firmly.

When silence returned, he addressed the assembly.

“With all the gathered evidence,” he said evenly, “it is clear that there is a powerful dark wizard at large. Instead of speculating endlessly about identity, let us focus our efforts on cooperation — on containment, investigation, and defense.”

His piercing blue eyes swept across the crowd, lingering briefly on Simon, then Cassandra.

“Let us remember why we gather here: to unite against threats to the magical world, not to tear each other apart.”

A/n: It took me a while to write this chapter and i am still not satisfied, please leave your thoughts on the chapter before leaving.

Power stone and reviews please my people.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep