As the tall wooden doors of the French Ministry's grand meeting hall creaked open, Minister Fudge rose to his feet, prompting the rest of the British delegation to follow suit. Their attention turned toward the group entering—an elegant assembly of French diplomats led by a stately woman with an air of formidable grace. It quickly became apparent that she was none other than the French Minister of Magic herself.
She stepped forward with measured poise, and as she came to stand before Elijah White, her sharp gaze shifted toward the British Minister.
Elijah straightened at once, his expression softening with familiarity. "It's an honour to see you again, Minister," he said courteously, offering a subtle bow of his head.
The woman offered him a formal nod in return. "The honour is mine, Lord White," she replied in a polished French accent. "I'm delighted to see you today."
Turning to Fudge, Elijah gestured smoothly. "May I introduce Cornelius Fudge, the new British Minister for Magic."
Minister Fudge stepped forward, offering a cordial nod. "Oh, I know Mrs. Isabella Voclain ,No need for interdiction " he said. "Minister Voclain, I've heard quite a bit about your accomplishments over the past five years since you took office. From a brilliant Potioneer to becoming one of the most powerful figures in the French Ministry—it's truly remarkable. I am very pleased to finally meet you."
Minister Isabella Voclain—graceful and composed—nodded slightly, her expression unreadable. "Thank you, Minister Fudge. I have likewise read your recent economic and security policies. Fascinating strategies, especially your reform plans. I look forward to discussing them."
She gestured toward the long table at the center of the ornate room. "Please, let us sit. We have much to speak of."
With that, everyone took their seats. Beside Elijah, Eira sat quietly, observing the French Minister closely. There was something strikingly familiar about her face. As realization dawned, Eira's eyes slightly widened. Of course—her Potions professor at Beauxbâtons was René Voclain. That explained the resemblance. She was from the same family.
Breaking the silence, Elijah said, "Minister, as I've mentioned before—this is my granddaughter."
Isabella turned toward Eira. For the first time since entering the room, she smiled—a soft but sincere expression that seemed reserved only for the young girl.
"I am delighted and honoured to meet the heiress of the White family," she said warmly.
Eira rose from her seat and offered a graceful curtsy. "The honour is mine, Minister Voclain."
"Please, sit," Isabella said gently. "There's no need to stand."
Isabella then turned her attention to Fudge. "It's been nearly fifteen years since the British delegation last visited our Ministry."
Fudge offered a diplomatic smile. "Yes, of course. Sadly, due to various… complications, our two Ministries haven't enjoyed the close relationship they once did. As you know, since the founding of both the British and French Ministries of Magic, our countries shared a deep connection—mutual reliance, even. But in the past two decades, that bond was weakened, largely due to poor leadership on both sides. Now, as the new Minister, I wish to restore that bond and reconnect with our French brothers and sisters."
"Indeed," Isabella replied. "Let the past remain where it belongs. It's time to look forward—to cooperation, not conflict."
Fudge smiled. "I wholeheartedly agree. And with that in mind, I've come today with three matters of mutual interest."
"Let's hear them," Isabella said.
"The first issue concerns our economic relationship—specifically, the trade of magical plants. Over the past decade, Britain has struggled with the cultivation and import of certain magical flora, especially those necessary for potion-making. We've relied heavily on imports from Moscow and the United States, facilitated through families like the Greengrasses and the Longbottoms. However, there are some species that simply don't thrive in British soil."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Historically, we imported those from France. But as relations cooled, that trade ceased. Now, I'd like to re-establish it. The Malfoy and Rosier families have expressed keen interest in managing this import process and re-opening connections with their French counterparts."
Isabella nodded. "France too would benefit. We are in need of specific magical creatures for institutions like Beauxbâtons. A reciprocal trade arrangement would serve both sides."
She raised a slender hand to emphasize her point. "But I insist on legal oversight. Any wizarding families wishing to engage in this commerce must coordinate with their French counterparts, and agreements must pass through my office for final review. If no laws are breached, I will approve them."
"Of course," Fudge agreed. "I'll ensure that everything is properly documented and passed through your channels."
Isabella's eyes met his across the table. "Very well. What is the second matter?"
Here, Fudge's tone shifted slightly, more cautious. "As I understand, the French Ministry has submitted a formal request to the International Confederation of Wizards to host the next Quidditch World Cup."
Isabella tilted her head. "Yes. Is there a problem?"
Fudge cleared his throat. "Britain has recently emerged from dark times. The war and its aftermath took a toll on our people. Hosting the World Cup would be a symbol of hope—a new era. I was hoping, in the spirit of friendship, France might consider withdrawing its bid."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Isabella's expression remained neutral, but her voice grew firm. "Minister, that decision isn't mine alone. Many French magical families have invested in the bid and the infrastructure. It would be… unwise to ask them to abandon it."
Fudge nodded, not deterred. "Then perhaps I could speak with those families directly. I would be happy to send diplomats or representatives to discuss alternatives."
Isabella sighed softly. "You may try, but I cannot promise their agreement."
At that moment, Elijah White interjected. "Why not consider a joint hosting? The World Cup spans many matches—we could divide them between Britain and France. Share the spotlight, and strengthen our unity."
A French diplomat beside Isabella nodded. "A promising idea. But we would need further negotiations to determine which matches are held where—especially the semi-finals and final."
Fudge leaned forward. "Of course. I will assign the appropriate officials from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. If we agree, we can submit a joint proposal to the Confederation."
Isabella considered, then nodded. "Yes, a gesture of goodwill. I will send my own diplomats to begin discussions."
Fudge smiled with satisfaction. "Excellent. Now, the third matter pertains to our magical schools."
Isabella raised a brow. "Go on."
"I would like to propose the re-establishment of the Triwizard Tournament," Fudge said. "A centuries-old tradition between our schools. And perhaps we could expand it—invite Ilvermorny, Uagadou, and even Castelobruxo. A true international competition."
Isabella frowned slightly. "You know the history of the Tournament, Minister. It has… a dangerous legacy. Students have died. Such risks cannot be ignored."
"Of course," Fudge said quickly. "But we can modify the rules. Modern protections. Albus Dumbledore supports it—he said he'd be honoured to host it again."
Isabella glanced toward Elijah, then back to Fudge. "And what of Headmistress Maxime? Has she agreed?"
Fudge hesitated. "Not yet. But Dumbledore said he would speak with her personally."
"Well," Isabella said carefully, "if Madame Maxime agrees, we will consider it. But this cannot be a unilateral decision. All headmasters and headmistresses must be present at a formal council to decide."
"Of course," Fudge agreed. "I will arrange a meeting, and we can invite the other schools as well."