The Minister of Magic's office was enveloped in a tense atmosphere so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.
Seated behind his desk, hands clasped and posture exuding superiority, was Tom Gaunt. To his right, standing with her arms crossed, was the Head of the Department of Magical Security, Amelia Bones.
Facing them, sitting on the edge of the guest chair and breaking out in a cold sweat beneath the collar of his robes, was Dante, a wizard of Italian origin and special envoy of the International Confederation of Wizards. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the alarming situation on the European continent and determine how the international community would proceed in the wake of the terrible attack that had recently occurred at Hogwarts.
Dante watched the British Minister with a fear he could barely hide.
When his superiors at the Confederation informed him that he was to travel to Great Britain for a high-level meeting, Dante had snorted at the news. He had expected the new British leader to be an exact copy of the previous one. A cowardly, complacent, weak politician without a shred of courage, willing to yield to international demands so as not to jeopardize his reputation and, consequently, his position. He had walked into the office believing he owned the place. Big mistake.
The moment the door closed and he felt the oppressive, monstrous magical aura emanating from the man sitting across from him, Dante lost all his confidence. He simply hadn't known; the intelligence reports hadn't mentioned that a true monster dwelled in these lands—another Archmage whose power rivaled that of the legendary Albus Dumbledore.
Voldemort looked at his guest with a slight but palpable annoyance; his eyes were cold, enhanced by an illusion that made people's pursuit of him seem more intense, as he analyzed every expression on the Italian's face. He relished submission, but he loathed the cowardice hiding behind that false arrogance.
Amelia Bones, who was observing the interaction out of the corner of her eye, reluctantly admitted in the back of her mind that having a wizard of Tom Gaunt's caliber as Minister had undeniable political advantages. The country's last two Ministers paled in comparison to the current one; both Bagnold and Fudge had been anything but someone you could place your trust in during wartime… especially Fudge. Now, with a leader who demonstrated such overwhelming power, the rest of the world would finally stop underestimating Britain.
"Minister, Madame Bones," Dante began, forcing a weak smile and discreetly wiping the sweat from his neck, "I assure you that the Confederation is investigating this unfortunate incident with the utmost care. We are gathering information on Gellert Grindelwald's movements, and I assure you that—"
Amelia didn't let him finish. She leaned slightly over the desk, gazing at him sternly.
"Well, frankly, Mr. Dante, it doesn't seem that way," Amelia interrupted coldly. "I remind you that a school was directly attacked. A place full of innocent children and the future of our society, with an abomination that destroyed an entire section of the castle. Your 'attention' is not enough for me or for the father of any child attending Hogwarts."
Dante swallowed and nodded, trying to adopt a sympathetic posture.
"And we, too, care deeply, Madame Bones. But you must understand us. With only ten major recognized magical schools existing around the world—and some of them accepting students from various countries—it is difficult for us to act immediately. But know that the Confederation will always ensure the absolute safety of all young wizards and witches…"
"I hope so," Tom Gaunt cut in, his voice soft and velvety, resonating directly with the person before him.
Minister Gaunt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and fixing his gaze on the Italian envoy.
"I fully agree that the youngest must be protected, Dante. It is the duty of any society to ensure this," continued Voldemort, his tone making it clear that he was not negotiating, but issuing an ultimatum. "But listen to me carefully and take this message to your superiors: if the International Confederation of Wizards does not drastically increase its efforts and operational resources to locate and neutralize Grindelwald, Great Britain will take action on its own."
Dante's eyes widened, alarmed by the implications of unilateral intervention.
"Are you certain of this, Minister? Independent action on that scale could destabilize…"
"Great Britain," Voldemort repeated, raising his magical aura just enough to make his guest tremble. "It will confront and destroy the threat to the lives of its citizens on its own soil, without the slightest regard for the stance, bureaucracy, or approval of other magical governments. Is that clear?"
Dante felt the air leave his lungs. There was no room for discussion when conversing with a force of nature. He rose quickly from his chair, straightening his robes.
"Perfectly clear, Minister Gaunt. I will report your words and your stance exactly as you have stated them to my superiors in the Confederation," said Dante, bowing in a quick nod. "I thank you for receiving me in the midst of this crisis."
Voldemort stood up, his imposing figure dominating the room, and shook his hand firmly.
"Have an excellent journey home, Mister Dante."
As he left the office and walked through the dark but elegant corridors of the Ministry, Dante narrowed his eyes. He observed the Aurors patrolling around him and noted the remarkable changes in the efficiency of the British Ministry staff. The conclusion was undeniable: it was best for the Confederation to stop taking the British lightly, especially with an Archmage as relentless in his ways as that Gaunt fellow they had at the helm.
After a long elevator ride, Dante finally reached the main atrium, heading toward the golden fireplaces that served as exits for the Floo Network.
But just as he was about to grab a handful of Floo Powder, he stopped short. Dante clicked his tongue in frustration and brought a hand to his forehead at his own stupidity.
Amid all the panic caused by the Minister's aura, he had completely forgotten one of his main objectives in coming to the meeting. He hadn't asked a single thing about the nature of Minister Gaunt's relationship with the brilliant young Lord of the Gaunt family.
Dante let out a heavy sigh, watching the emerald flames in the fireplace. He knew for certain that his superiors would not be at all pleased with his omission when he turned in his report. Hard days awaited him upon his return.
The Room of Requirement shook under the force of the explosions. The hall had been transformed into a battlefield, littered with craters, debris, and mannequins reduced to ashes.
In the center of the chaos, Aurelian Gaunt moved like a shadow. He destroyed absolutely everything the hall hurled at him. He dodged the barrage of attacks with precision and counterattacked by combining the hiss of Parseltongue with the brilliant light of his Arcane Patterns.
"Tear it apart!" Aurelian hissed, sending a shockwave that split a stone golem in two.
When the last target fell, silence abruptly returned to the hall.
Aurelian stopped, his chest heaving up and down. He was physically and magically exhausted. His legs gave out and he fell backward onto the floor, gasping for air as sweat soaked his hair.
With a growl, he pounded the stone floor with his fist. He was utterly frustrated. No matter how much he trained until he collapsed, no matter how much he read, he simply couldn't break through the invisible barrier that separated him from becoming an Archmage. He still couldn't understand what exactly that… spark was, that missing piece that separated him from untamable monsters like Dumbledore or Grindelwald.
The soft echo of footsteps pulled him out of his dark thoughts.
As he tilted his head back slightly, he met the gaze of Hestia and Flora. The girls knelt on either side of him, looking at him with a hint of reproach.
"It's not good to push yourself this hard, my love," Flora scolded him gently, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
"You need to rest; your core could be damaged," Hestia added.
Aurelian let his head fall back to the floor.
"I know," Aurelian replied in a tense voice. "But it's so frustrating. It's frustrating not knowing what separates me from people like my father. I feel like I've hit a wall and I don't have the tools to break it down."
Hestia began stroking his hair, gently untangling the strands.
"Are these words related to your sudden new obsession with becoming an Archmage before you graduate?" Hestia asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aurelian let out a long sigh and said nothing. He stared at the ceiling of the room.
Hestia and Flora exchanged a glance over his head, knowing him better than he knew himself. They already knew the answer.
Flora followed Aurelian's gaze toward the ceiling and asked him a seemingly simple question.
"Tell me something, Aurelian... What are your goals right now? What else do you want to achieve in life?"
Aurelian sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. He prepared to answer immediately, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. But when he opened his mouth and looked Flora in the eyes... the words wouldn't come out."
He blinked for a moment, surprised that his mind was completely blank regarding something that, in his view, was perfectly clear. His rise in this world had always been marked by goals he'd always been very clear about: surviving, making money, and establishing himself. But now?
Seeing his confusion, Hestia and Flora moved closer and hugged him tightly, anchoring him to reality.
Flora rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, gently kissing his neck.
"Don't torment yourself. Not all mages—not even the greatest ones—always have a clear goal for what they want to achieve in the long run, Aurelian. What truly matters is that you remain true to yourself in every step and decision you make."
Hestia leaned down and kissed his forehead tenderly.
"You've already achieved extraordinarily great things that would take others a lifetime," Hestia reminded him, looking into his eyes with pride. "You lifted the Gaunt name out of utter destitution, founded Gauntcorp and turned it into a global empire, and created a new way of viewing magic. You're already a legend, my love."
Hestia smiled broadly and sealed her words with a tender, deep kiss on his lips.
Aurelian closed his eyes and finally relaxed, letting the tension leave his muscles in the face of his fiancees' affection and words.
"Could that be what I need to improve and break through the barrier?" Aurelian wondered in the tranquility of the embrace. It was true that, lately, after having consolidated his empire and his position, he was quite content with who he was and what he had achieved. His instinct—that voracious hunger that had driven him during his early years—had subsided.
A soft hiss interrupted the romantic scene.
Nythoros slid out from behind the twins' backs and climbed onto Aurelian's lap. Lately, the basilisk spent most of his time coiled around the girls' necks or in their pockets, letting them pamper him.
Aurelian looked at the ancient creature and let out a small laugh.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're more familiar with them than with me, Nythoros," Aurelian hissed playfully.
The king of serpents raised his small head and stared at him intently.
"My master's ladies know how to treat royalty," Nythoros replied with undeniable arrogance, before adopting a wiser tone. "But listen to me carefully, my Lord. You must take things slowly. An Archmage's magic does not come from brute force; it comes from a complete understanding of one's own being. You cannot speed up the process, but I am certain you will become not only an Archmage, but an even greater and more formidable wizard than Salazar Slytherin was in his prime."
Aurelian smiled broadly, feeling the magical bond in his chest grow even stronger.
"I thank you for your words, my friend," Aurelian replied.
He stroked Nythoros' scales as the twins continued to cling to him. If he wanted to keep climbing toward the absolute pinnacle of the magical hierarchy and break through that damned barrier, perhaps he no longer needed to train his body or cast spells until exhaustion. Perhaps what he truly needed was to make a complete shift in his paradigm and find a new hunger to fuel him.
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