Night had fallen on London's East End, yet the district's all-night establishments throbbed with undiminished vitality. The city maintained its bustling energy well after sunset, with revelers coming and going, indulging in various festivities.
Flying vehicles traversed the sky while ground transportation wove through streets below. "Busy" scarcely captured the pulsating life of the megalopolis under darkness.
In a relatively secluded bar, patrons danced, sang, and drank according to their inclinations. A middle-aged man in nondescript gray casual attire moved through the corner of the establishment, wine glass in hand. With practiced nonchalance, he settled into a seat beside a red-haired woman.
Clink!
After gently touching glasses, the man took a measured sip of his wine.
"Vera, what information have you gathered?" he inquired softly.
"Nothing promising, I'm afraid." The woman raised her own glass, taking a deliberate sip to mask the gravity in her expression. "Ian, this return differs entirely from our expectations. Not only has time advanced significantly—nearly forty years—but the world itself has transformed. Hogwarts has vanished completely."
Hearing this, Ian reclined slightly against the sofa cushions, assuming a posture of casual relaxation despite the concerning news.
"Indeed," he murmured. "The Kamar-Taj Dream World remains equally unreachable. Our other associates are similarly incommunicado. It's as though everything we knew has simply... disappeared."
His tone grew heavier with his final words.
"Yesterday I attempted to use magic to summon our returning companions," Vera continued. "I was unprepared for how swiftly Voldemort's forces responded. They appear to monitor the entire city continuously."
The situation was increasingly unfavorable to their cause.
Ian offered no further comment, silently draining his glass. This return had defied all their preparations. Beyond losing contact with their allies, they had emerged into a hostile environment none had anticipated.
Who could have foreseen that the Dark Lord Voldemort—once hounded by Ian's teacher, forced to flee constantly—would now command dominion over the entire world? Even the contingencies established by his mentor Lockhart to contain Voldemort had proven ineffectual.
Hogwarts had vanished. Headmaster Dumbledore had disappeared without trace. No information regarding either could be found.
These had been Lockhart's primary safeguards for the wizarding world. Given Dumbledore's formidable abilities, even if he couldn't defeat the Dark Lord outright, he should have been able to maintain some form of resistance indefinitely.
Why had there been no word for over three decades?
This question plagued Ian. The root cause of the world's dramatic transformation surely connected to this mysterious disappearance—the missing Dumbledore.
As Ian pondered these troubling matters, the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
"Auror inspection!" a commanding voice announced. "Stop the music! No one moves! Silence!"
A cacophony of authoritative orders shattered the bar's ambiance. The previously pulsing music cut abruptly, leaving a jarring silence.
The crowd, hearing the word "Auror," fell immediately still. No one dared move, each fearing identification as a person of interest.
Aurors were not mere police officers. They were wizards wielding mysterious powers. Where ordinary law enforcement might need justification for lethal force, Aurors killed with impunity. One's guilt or innocence was determined solely by their judgment.
The bar remained perfectly silent for thirty tense seconds. No patron risked movement. Regardless of an ordinary person's speed, none could outpace a wizard's spell.
Moreover, magical detection capabilities were legendarily effective.
Ian and Vera sensed the magical fluctuations surrounding the bar, their expressions subtly shifting. The Dark Lord's response system had evolved to remarkable efficiency.
Neither reacted rashly, however. They discerned that this particular Auror unit possessed only average magical strength—their energy signatures resembled those of ordinary wizards. The magical flow within these Aurors followed a vaguely familiar pattern.
"Damn it," Vera muttered, "these Squibs have adopted the master's meditation techniques, yet they hunt us."
The proliferation of meditation practices had dramatically increased the wizard population. Among the vast Muggle majority, many potential Squibs existed undetected. When Voldemort had publicly released the meditation methodology, a veritable army of Squib wizards had emerged.
These newly empowered individuals became Voldemort's staunchest supporters, helping him establish dominion over the entire world. Wizards—even those of Squib origin—now constituted a privileged class globally.
Beep! "Move along!" Beep! "Not your concern, exit immediately."
The mechanical sounds continued as Aurors processed the bar's patrons one by one. Each beep was followed by instructions for the scanned individual to depart.
The Aurors appeared to operate some form of testing apparatus. With his magically enhanced vision, Ian observed the process clearly.
Each Auror wore specialized thick glasses and wielded an elongated black device which they pressed briefly against each patron's fingertip. As the device's yellow indicator light shifted to green, the person was instructed to leave. A small blood mark remained on every departing patron's finger, suggesting the machine had extracted a sample for analysis.
This methodology gave Ian pause. The Dark Lord had not grown complacent in his dominance but had continued developing innovative methods of control. These instruments represented a fusion of technology and magic—an approach previously unknown in wizarding society.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, an Auror approached Ian and Vera. He extended the scanning device, gesturing for their cooperation.
With apparent calm, the pair offered their index fingers without hesitation.
Beep!
The yellow light transitioned to green.
"Proceed," came the Auror's cold instruction. Ian and Vera promptly exited the establishment.
Though these Aurors wielded specialized equipment, they posed little threat to Lockhart's direct disciples. A child armed with a pistol could hardly threaten a heavily armored giant.
Ian had casually cast an illusion spell that the Aurors failed completely to detect. Even the external instruments designed to identify magical fluctuations registered no anomaly.
While uncertain about developments in high-level magical combat capabilities within the Wizarding World, Ian remained confident that unless Voldemort personally pursued them, they could escape any other wizard—even if victory might prove challenging.
Ian and Vera strolled along the street outside, appearing to engage in casual conversation as they walked.
"Ian, what's your next move?" Vera asked quietly.
"The chess piece our mentor positioned within the wizarding world—Rita Skeeter—has surprisingly become a prominent reporter. I intend to arrange a conversation with her," he replied. "And you? What's your plan?"
"I want to investigate why the mentor's magical brand appears to have failed. If we could contact Principal Carter, I believe many of our questions might find answers."
"Very well, pursue your research," Ian agreed, then added, "Though regarding Rita Skeeter, I'm personally hesitant to approach her yet. My intuition suggests it might be a trap. We should seek someone else."
"Ian, who do you consider suitable?"
"An old acquaintance would be ideal."
"Who?"
"Lucius Malfoy."