Power in the magical world was simple. Spells, wands, duels, and fear.Power in the Muggle world was slower, quieter, but far more permanent.
Now that England's wizarding society bowed to me, it was time to bridge the two worlds. The Ministry of Magic was already re‑engineered to my design; its departments acted like clockwork under my supervision. But as long as the Muggle government ran independently, there was a chance — however small — that someone could notice the disappearances, the strange events, the untraceable finances. The divide between the two worlds had always been a veil; I was about to weave that veil into my banner.
I began with influence, not conquest. The highest offices of Muggle power were filled with predictable minds: ambitious, proud, and susceptible to promises of wealth and prestige. It took only a few weeks of careful observation, aided by Dumbledore's memories and my own mastery of Legilimency, to identify who truly steered England's political machine. A minister, three secretaries, two generals, and one banker — all of them important, none of them wise.
One by one, I approached them in ways that would never draw suspicion. A meeting in an empty corridor of the Palace of Westminster, a handshake in a crowded reception hall, a late‑night conference call intercepted by a spell through the telephone line. Each encounter ended the same: a momentary pause, a flicker of confusion, then obedience.
Memory charms reshaped their recollections.Compulsion runes, hidden beneath the surface of their thoughts, aligned their loyalties.Subtle enchantments softened suspicion and amplified admiration.
They remembered my face not as a stranger's but as an ally they had trusted for years — a silent advisor whose words always made sense. They would never realize that every decision they made now nudged the Muggle world further under my control.
From there, influence spread naturally. My newly‑loyal ministers drafted policies that expanded magical secrecy just enough to protect my interests while granting me unrestricted access to state resources. Defense budgets quietly funded "experimental technologies" that were, in truth, magical constructs. Research grants financed potion‑based medicines disguised as pharmaceuticals. The border between science and magic began to blur, and no one noticed.
By the end of the month, the entire chain of command within the English government — from Parliament to military intelligence — functioned as my unseen extension. Orders flowed, papers were signed, and no one questioned why national priorities now favored a quiet, inward‑looking England.
I walked through Whitehall one evening in simple Muggle attire, watching cars rush by and lights blink in government offices. None of them knew they served a different master now. None of them felt the gentle threads of magic humming beneath their thoughts.
In the shadows of two worlds, I wore the invisible crown.
England — magical and Muggle alike — now belonged entirely to me.