"Alright," Rowan Mercer said at last, after Ludo Bagman's increasingly desperate persuasion. "For the sake of the Ministry, I'll do it. But only the Quidditch World Cup."
That was the limit.
The tournament itself wasn't long, and if Rowan played Seeker, most matches would end the moment the Snitch appeared. It wouldn't disrupt his schedule too much.
"That's perfect. Absolutely perfect," Bagman said, relief washing over his face. "As long as you're in the World Cup, we're good."
Rowan watched him closely, filing the reaction away.
Bagman's reputation for reckless gambling was no secret. If things continued the way they were, the man would eventually lose everything. Rowan had no shortage of Galleons, and desperate people were often the easiest to influence. The Department of Magical Games and Sports didn't wield much power, but it was still one of the Ministry's major branches. If Bagman became pliable, that door would open too.
At present, Rowan already had leverage in Magical Law Enforcement. The Auror Office trusted him. Umbridge was a temporary obstacle at best. The Department of International Magical Cooperation would likely change leadership soon as well.
Three departments, firmly aligned.
That was more than enough for now.
While Rowan's projection continued navigating Ministry politics, his true body was busy elsewhere.
Far out in the Atlantic, Rowan hovered above a secluded island, studying it from the air.
"This one will do."
After weeks of searching, the island's size, terrain, and isolation made it ideal.
With a single spell, the landmass tore free from the ocean. Rock groaned. Water cascaded away in sheets as the island rose into the sky.
What followed was not brute force, but refinement.
Rowan layered levitation, propulsion, and stabilization enchantments, weaving them together with techniques adapted from magical airship construction. Defensive arrays followed, then concealment fields. He incorporated rare metals, vibranium acquired through diplomatic concessions and uru salvaged from Asgardian sources, forging a core that could withstand immense strain.
At the heart of it all, he installed a power system fueled by the Space Stone.
In emergencies, the island could move at supersonic speed. With enough energy, it could even relocate instantaneously.
Days passed in focused silence.
When the work was finished, Rowan appeared in the island's center, inside a hidden chamber expanded far beyond its physical limits. The power core rested there, sealed behind layers of wards and reinforced alloys. There was no conventional entrance. Only direct spatial access could reach it.
Even then, intruders would face more than empty air.
"Activate."
Energy surged. The Space Stone responded, feeding power into a massive spatial array.
The floating island vanished.
Above New York City, it reappeared.
Directly over the academy.
For a heartbeat, the city froze.
Then panic spread.
"What is that?"
From the Bronx to Midtown, people stared upward as a vast landmass hovered in the sky. Memories were still fresh. Only months earlier, an entire city had been dropped from the heavens.
Fear didn't stop with civilians.
After the catastrophe in Washington, much of the federal leadership had relocated to New York, drawn by proximity to Stark Tower and the academy itself. They trusted neither completely, but they trusted extinction even less.
Now, an island hung overhead.
Phones rang. Screens lit up. Contingency plans resurfaced from dusty drawers.
Above it all, the floating city remained perfectly still.
Waiting.