London, Malfoy Manor.
The Malfoy family of the present bore little resemblance to its former self. Once merely a prominent British pure-blood family, they now stood at the pinnacle of global power. The significance of Lucius's position as Federal Minister of Finance was self-evident.
Having ascended to become one of the world's preeminent families, the Malfoys had long since relocated to London, the epicenter of political influence. Even at this late hour, Malfoy Manor remained brilliantly illuminated against the night sky.
On the estate's expansive lawn, middle-aged Draco Malfoy sat cross-legged, eyes closed in deep meditation. The magical energy fluctuating around him significantly exceeded that of ordinary practitioners.
The meditation techniques he practiced had originated with Hogwarts Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, once considered the world's premier wizard. After Lockhart's disappearance, the great Tom Riddle had vigorously developed and expanded these practices, creating an entirely new magical system founded upon runes and ancient arcane principles.
Despite being the Finance Minister's son, Draco had not followed his father's path. Instead, he had pursued a career in law enforcement, eventually rising to become Director of the Auror Office. His position commanded dozens of teams dedicated to hunting wizard dissidents and other insubordinate elements.
For Draco, his situation inspired a measure of silent resentment. Despite his directorial title and considerable authority, his position was far from unique. Nearly every major city boasted someone of equivalent rank. His jurisdiction wasn't even London but rather a relatively remote region in America.
Calling it exile might be excessive, but only marginally so. Even the most obtuse official understood that proximity to London—the political nucleus—correlated directly with influence and advancement. His posting to America, despite its apparent power, had effectively capped his potential for promotion.
Unless he achieved something truly extraordinary, returning to work in Britain would remain unlikely.
Draco understood the reasoning behind his circumstances all too well. His father controlled the Federation's finances; if Draco himself commanded significant military or law enforcement power while stationed in London, the Malfoy family's combined influence might become problematically concentrated.
Only through exceptional merit could he earn promotion and return to England.
As Draco meditated, he gradually calmed his internal frustrations. He was no longer the impetuous youth of his school days. Years of conflict and administrative responsibility had instilled in him a deeper measure of equanimity.
After an indeterminate period, his concentration was interrupted.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to open his eyes. Before him stood his father, Lucius Malfoy.
"Father," Draco acknowledged, rising to his feet. "What prompted this sudden summons?"
Studying his middle-aged son with an appraising gaze, Lucius's expression softened into a smile. Rather than answering directly, he initiated a seemingly casual conversation.
"How is my dear granddaughter Nona faring these days? Does she miss her grandfather?" Lucius inquired warmly.
At the mention of his daughter, Draco's features visibly softened.
"Nona is thriving. She continues to excel at Ilvermorny," he replied, his tone gentler. "She misses you dearly and mentions you frequently in her letters. I plan to bring her home during the next holiday for an extended visit."
Lucius nodded appreciatively, then seemed to fixate momentarily on a particular detail. "Ilvermorny," he murmured, almost to himself.
Abruptly, his demeanor shifted, becoming notably more serious.
"What developments have you observed in America? Any progress locating the dark wizards?"
This question touched upon the silver lining of Draco's remote posting. America had shown signs of dark wizard activity. Successfully capturing these Kamar-Taj practitioners—these traitors to the Federation—would certainly please His Majesty Tom Riddle, potentially fulfilling Draco's desire to return to London.
This explained Draco's prolonged tenure in America. A significant contribution could resolve his current predicament.
Unfortunately...
"No success thus far. These vermin conceal themselves with remarkable efficiency," Draco responded with evident frustration. "Often we identify promising leads, only to find our quarry has slipped away like eels through water."
His voice diminished as he concluded, the weight of repeated failure evident in his tone.
He had hoped to distinguish himself by capturing dark wizards, yet after more than a decade, he remained stationed in America with nothing substantive to show for his efforts.
This constituted his persistent dilemma. Even his father's position as Finance Minister provided no remedy. Those who opposed him actively hoped he would languish indefinitely in America.
The Federation's vastness harbored numerous competing factions. Established only twenty to thirty years prior, it still contained remnants of various Ministries of Magic, newly empowered wizards, traditional pure-bloods, and other diverse interest groups. The political landscape remained exceptionally complex.
Lucius nodded, maintaining his composure. "Don't concern yourself unduly, Draco. Recent developments promise significant changes. You must seize the opportunities these shifts will create."
"What changes?" Draco inquired immediately, unable to mask his eagerness.
As a Malfoy, he naturally maintained his own information channels and had detected rumblings of transition within the Federation's upper echelons. Though specifics eluded him, his father would certainly possess more comprehensive intelligence.
"Those who vanished have returned," Lucius stated with an unexpected sigh rather than excitement. "In the coming days, mere survival may become the primary challenge. If you endure, opportunities will eventually present themselves."
Draco's brow furrowed at his father's uncharacteristically somber tone.
"Father, are you suggesting Dumbledore has returned? Or perhaps Gilderoy Lockhart? Grindelwald?"
Having witnessed the Federation's establishment firsthand, Draco comprehended the complexities involved in its creation. The process had encountered numerous obstacles—resistance from regional Ministries of Magic, the Muggle world's nuclear threat, and various other complications—most of which had been methodically overcome.
Yet virtually every wizard from that era recognized that the Federation had never faced its potentially most significant challenges: confrontations with the wizarding world's most formidable practitioners.
Whether Dumbledore, Grindelwald, or Gilderoy Lockhart (the originator of the meditation techniques now widely practiced), none had manifested during the Federation's formative period, allowing for a considerably smoother consolidation of power.
Had even one of these three legendary wizards appeared, the current Federation would likely never have coalesced in its present form. Their collective absence had permitted Voldemort—once perpetually pursued and frequently defeated—to reverse his fortunes and establish the current global regime.
Crucially, His Majesty Tom Riddle had also evolved, recovering a measure of sanity previously compromised. His methodologies had grown substantially more sophisticated.
Muggles, wizards, Ministries of Magic, Magical Congresses, and Muggle governments alike had proven little more than playthings before His Majesty's refined strategies.
And now, based on his father's words, the once-vanished wizards of legend had apparently returned.