The vaulted ceiling was covered by a spell that displayed enchanted constellations that moved slowly, illuminating the entire room with a deep, almost ethereal glow.
The seats were arranged in ascending circles, like an amphitheater, and each seat was engraved with the coat of arms of each important family in Great Britain. Ancient names, some respected, others feared, but together to decide on equal terms.
As he entered, all eyes turned to him like a silent tide.
Some studied him.
Others sized him up.
Few smiled at him.
Aurelian walked with pride and a steady gait, without haste. His black robe with the Gaunt crest and silver details of the Slytherin lineage fell perfectly over his shoulders.
He did not speak, his mere presence filling the space with an authority rarely seen in people his age.
It was at that moment that Augusta Longbottom rose from her seat.
"Lord Gaunt," she said with solemn and respectful courtesy, "it would be an honor if you would sit with us... I'm sure you will feel comfortable on our side." Her tone was neither pleading nor imposing; it was a genuine invitation, born of gratitude and the recent trust built at St. Mungo's.
Aurelian opened his mouth to reply... But another voice interrupted him, warm and elegant.
"Oh, Lady Longbottom, I don't think that would be best for Lord Gaunt. With us would be most appropriate."
Alaric Carrow had descended from his seat, wearing his elegant wine-colored robe and carrying his silver cane. At his side stood Selene, her expression gentle but her gaze calculating. Something necessary to move in these circles.
"After all," Alaric continued, bowing his head respectfully to Aurelian, "your place is with your lineage and your natural allies." The Carrows were not only known for their 'nobility and tradition' but also for their longstanding connection to the ideals of Slytherin's bloodline (Voldemort).
Augusta frowned slightly, clearly irritated by his interruption.
Aurelian understood; both offered him loyalty, but from completely different worlds.
There was a momentary silence in the chamber. One that many took advantage of to observe the scene carefully and think about their next moves with the new Lord, all depending on the decision he would make next.
Aurelian bowed his head to Augusta with a slight smile.
"Lady Longbottom, I deeply appreciate your invitation. I have found something valuable in your family and another way of looking at life."
Augusta nodded, her hard eyes softening slightly. There was respect there. Real respect.
Then Aurelian turned to Alaric, his expression changing to something sharper, more suited to politics.
"However..." he said with a polite smile, "as Lord of a lineage as ancient as mine, it is my duty to first take the place that belongs to my house."
Alaric smiled with satisfaction, and a hint of pride could be seen in his eyes, the pride of someone who sees the strength of his faction confirmed.
"Welcome, Lord Gaunt. I knew you would make the best decision," he replied, extending his hand to guide him.
Aurelian walked with him, taking a seat in the semicircle reserved for the Conservative Families of Ancient Blood, just behind the emerald symbol belonging to House Gaunt.
Finally, after years of absence, a Slytherin was taking his place.
As he sat down, he could feel some tense stares directed at him:
The Malfoys, watching him with a mixture of respect and caution.
The Notts, sizing up his posture.
And the Fawleys, who exchanged glances with each other, as if they were witnessing the rebirth of a historical shadow.
Augusta looked at him once more from her seat, and Aurelian responded with a slight nod of his head.
They had not grown apart. They had only taken different paths within the board.
At that moment, the doors swung open.
Cornelius Fudge entered with quick steps and a smile that was more than necessary. Behind him, with a serene posture and a deep gaze, Albus Dumbledore entered.
The session was about to begin, and now the Gaunt family had a voice.
The last wizards and witches took their seats around the circular chamber, the previous murmuring dissipating into respectful silence. Cornelius Fudge, wearing his dark green ministerial robes, advanced toward the central podium when he saw that everyone had calmed down.
His smile was too broad. Too complacent.
"Dear members of the Wizengamot," he announced in a voice laden with false solemnity, "Today we gather to celebrate a year of peace and stability in the United Kingdom. Well done, everyone."
Some gave him diplomatic nods. Others just skeptical looks.
Aurelian, from his seat as Lord Gaunt, watched the minister serenely. He felt several people watching him, and, tired, he raised his magic slightly, which was enough for several of them to finally look away.
In the opposite row, Lucius Malfoy held his gaze, evaluating him. His fingers played with the handle of his cane, his expression neutral, respectful, cautious, or calculating. But inside, he was very different.
The Notts murmured among themselves:
"A Gaunt in the Wizengamot... I never thought I'd see such a thing in my lifetime."
"The blood of Slytherin returns to where it always belonged."
Meanwhile, on the side of light, Longbottom remained silent. Augusta lifted her chin, acknowledging Aurelian's decision without resentment.
Fudge spread his arms dramatically.
"Furthermore," he continued with a smile, "I would like to offer a special welcome to our new member. An heir to one of our most historic lineages. A young man who has proven himself to be... strong, but above all, exemplary."
A pause filled the chamber.
"Welcome, Lord Aurelian Gaunt," he finished with a small round of applause.
A whisper ran through the room. Aurelian bowed his head in respect.
He wasn't looking for an ovation. He knows that true power is not announced.
It is recognized.
Fudge smiled as if he himself had shaped this ascension. There was something cloying in his tone... as if he were trying to wrap him up in his politics... to win his support.
But before he could continue with his 'speech', Dumbledore stepped forward.
The Archmage advanced elegantly to the center, and when he spoke, his voice resonated clearly, without the need to raise it.
"We appreciate the presence of the new Lord Gaunt at this assembly," he said, with a calmness that carried its own weight. "The return of a lineage as ancient as his is a significant event in our history."
Aurelian knew the intention behind the words. Dumbledore recognized him, but he also needed him.
A subtle difference, subtle but important.
There was silence.
Dumbledore continued, his eyes scanning each faction, one by one.
"However, we are not here today solely for ceremonial and routine matters. I have called this meeting because worrying signs have emerged, both in Europe and beyond our borders."
Malfoy tensed. Augusta frowned. Even Fudge momentarily lost his smile.
Dumbledore dropped a folder of documents onto the center table, the echo resounding like a bell.
"Coordinated and violent movements have been identified in connection with the former followers of... Gellert Grindelwald."
A restless murmur ran through the room.
"The Alliance," someone whispered softly.
Dumbledore nodded.
"Yes. The same faction that once attempted to remake the world under an ideology of magical supremacy. We believed they had been dispersed... but over the past few months, several incidents suggest that not only are they still organized..."
Aurelian remained motionless. But his gaze sharpened.
"There have been sightings in Germany, Italy, and more recently... in South America."
Upon hearing this, some members of the Wizengamot paled. Not because they understood the details... but because the Archmages on that continent had been involved... The threat was no longer a theory.
It was real.
Fudge stammered, trying to regain control of the meeting.
"S-surely these are just... isolated groups... local incidents, misinformed investigators..."
Dumbledore did not raise his voice. But when he spoke, the minister fell silent instantly.
"Cornelius. Herpo the Foul has returned, and although they managed to stop him... the damage he caused was almost irreparable."
Aurelian's eyes widened. At last he knew what had caused the magical disturbance he had felt at Hogwarts.
The world was in motion. The old shadows were rising, and he was still on no one's side.
Dumbledore turned his head slightly.
"Newt," he called softly, though his voice resonated heavily throughout the room. "If you would be so kind."
A murmur ran through the hall. Newt Scamander did not occupy a seat among the high-ranking officials, nor did he hold any political or family title. Yet all eyes were on him.
His hair was a little grayer, but his eyes retained the gentle, deep sparkle of someone who had seen wonders and horrors alike. He wore a simple robe, somewhat worn from his recent travels.
He approached the center of the chamber.
"A few months ago," he began in a calm voice, "I was tracking certain magical creatures in the forests of northern Italy. I thought I had found a colony of Niffler... but what I found was completely different."
The silence was absolute.
"A camp of wizards, with symbols of the Alliance."
Several voices stifled exclamations.
Newt continued.
"They weren't isolated sympathizers. They were trained wizards. Organized. Recruiting."
He paused, slowly looking around the circle.
"They're looking for something, I don't know what specifically yet, but it's related to the Deathly Hallows."
Dumbledore slowly closed his eyes.
Alaric Carrow leaned toward Aurelian and whispered.
"You must be vigilant, Aurelian. War is looming on the horizon once again."
Newt paused for a moment before continuing.
"We have received information from Colombia," he said, turning to Dumbledore for a moment, "that the alliance is organizing at its borders."
Aurelian felt the tension in the air thickening.
"We encountered a ritual," said Newt, his voice now deeper, "an attempt at resurrection. The goal was to bring back Herpo the Foul."
After this confirmation, more exclamations filled the room. Some even rose from their seats.
Newt raised a hand.
"It was stopped. But not without cost."
His eyes darkened.
"A Invokerv from the South American Council gave his life to destroy the creature and what remained of its soul. But I am certain that this... was only a test for something greater."
Silence. Heavy silence. Unavoidable.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his voice firm but not alarmist.
"We are not telling you this to make you panic. But to remind you of something this world has forgotten too quickly. Peace is not natural. It is sustained. It is defended. It is protected."
His eyes rested on each face.
"We must strengthen our defenses. Review our alliances. And ensure that the next generation knows what they will face."
And then, inevitably, it happened...
"Absolutely not!" interrupted Cornelius Fudge, slamming his palm down on the table.
"Talking about non-existent threats will only sow fear among the citizens. We already have enough internal concerns! We don't need fantasies about Grindelwald or... foreign rituals," he spat out the word 'foreign' with disdain. "Our world is stable. What you are proposing, Dumbledore, is irresponsible alarmism!"
Dumbledore simply watched him. Without anger. Without mockery... Only with weariness.
"Cornelius," he replied quietly, "Denial has never stopped the storm."
Fudge turned pale.
Everyone in that room knew that whichever option they voted for would irrevocably change their futures from now on.
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