The visit from the French Minister of Magic was only the beginning.
That weighty "Highest Honor of France" medal was like the first domino to fall, igniting a worldwide frenzy of pilgrimage toward this newly risen "god."
The very next day after the French delegation departed in satisfaction and glory, the skies above Hogwarts saw no grand carriage.
Instead, there came a faint yet powerful ripple of spatial magic.
Moments later, five witches and wizards clad in black trench coats appeared silently at the castle gates. Their expressions were solemn, their bearing sharp and efficient—like elite operatives.
Pinned to their chests was a gleaming emblem of a thunderbird.
—The Magical Congress of the United States of America.
Unlike the French, whose arrival had been steeped in artistry and romance, the Americans were direct, efficient… and purposeful.
Their leader was a sharp-eyed Black wizard with a neatly trimmed beard. He introduced himself as Samuel Christon, Chief Secretary to the President of MACUSA and special envoy for this mission.
With Dumbledore and the newly appointed Minister Amelia Bones acting as intermediaries, they were finally granted an audience with the legendary… god.
"Lord Lin Sen."
Samuel gave a crisp, military-style nod—less theatrical than the French minister's bow, yet no less respectful.
"On behalf of President Seraphina Picquery and the entire American magical community, I extend our highest respect."
His voice was low and firm, every word precise.
"We have reviewed the memory crystal recordings of the final battle at Hogwarts—repeatedly. Frankly speaking, what you demonstrated has already surpassed the boundaries of what we understand as 'magic.' You have opened a new era for magical civilization."
He did not dwell on gratitude. Instead, he went straight to the point.
"We believe that a being of your greatness should not be confined to a single land. Your wisdom and power should serve as a beacon guiding the entire world."
From within his robes, he produced a scroll made of dragonhide, radiating potent contract magic.
Holding it with both hands, he presented it to Lin Sen, his gaze burning with intent.
"Therefore, on behalf of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, I formally—and with great honor—extend this invitation."
"We sincerely wish to appoint you as… our Lifetime Senior Magical Advisor."
A sharp intake of breath echoed in the room.
Dumbledore and Minister Bones both looked stunned.
A lifetime position? And one that had never existed before?
"Should you accept," Samuel continued, pressing further, "you will hold authority second only to the President herself within the American magical world. You will possess veto power over all major decisions. Every magical research department under MACUSA will be fully open to you. All magical resources across North America will be at your disposal."
"We can even construct, within Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a world-class magical laboratory exclusively for your use."
"What we ask in return is only one thing…"
His eyes gleamed with calculated fervor.
"That you occasionally guide us… and share even a fragment of your divine wisdom."
This was no mere invitation.
This was America's offering—its most practical, most powerful, most resource-laden tribute to a god.
Silence fell over the room.
All eyes turned to Lin Sen.
On one side—France's highest honor.
On the other—America's immense power and authority.
Any wizard in the world would have been driven mad by such temptation.
But Lin Sen's expression remained as calm as ever.
He listened to every condition, every promise.
Then slowly… he shook his head.
He glanced first at the French medal, giving a polite nod.
"The medal, I accept. Please convey my thanks to Minister Dubois."
Then his gaze shifted to the dragonhide scroll in Samuel's hands.
"As for the advisory position…" he said lightly, "I decline."
Declined?
Just like that?
Samuel's confident expression froze, disbelief flashing across his face.
"Why?" he blurted. "Lord Lin Sen, are these conditions not sufficient—"
"They are sufficient."
Lin Sen cut him off calmly.
"It's just that…"
He lifted his eyes, deep as the cosmos itself.
"My interest lies solely in exploring the mysteries and truths of magic."
"As for the worldly fame, profit, and power you speak of…"
He gave a faint smile.
"To me, they are no different from dust by the roadside… or clouds in the sky."
While the world remained in awe of Lin Sen's divine might and his utter indifference to power, Hogwarts held a long-overdue funeral.
On the ruins of the Quidditch pitch, a solemn white cemetery had been erected.
Here lay those who had fallen in the final battle.
Members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Aurors of the Ministry.
And students—barely seventeen or eighteen—who had stood atop the castle walls and fought to the very end.
A cold drizzle fell from the gray sky, as if the world itself mourned them.
All survivors had gathered, dressed in black, holding white flowers. Grief weighed heavily on every face.
Victory could not erase loss.
Dumbledore stood at the front, ready to deliver the eulogy.
But before he could speak—
Lin Sen stepped forward.
He wore no mourning attire—only his simple black robe. His face bore no sorrow, only a quiet, profound compassion.
"Professor," he said softly, shaking his head.
"For heroes… sorrowful words are too heavy."
"What they need is not remembrance… but rest."
He closed his eyes.
Heaven-defying comprehension activated.
Objective: Create a spell that transcends life and death, soothing the souls of the departed while healing the hearts of the living.
Solution: A law-based magic resonating directly with soul and emotion.
Result: —Requiem of the Fallen.
No surge of power erupted.
He simply stood there.
And then—
A melody beyond words began to echo across Hogwarts.
It had no form, yet every soul could hear it.
It was like a loved one whispering gently in your ear.
Like a newborn breathing peacefully in its cradle.
Like the vast night sky offering silent comfort.
Under this Requiem, grief softened.
Tears ceased.
Broken hearts were gently mended.
Pain did not vanish—but transformed into a warm, enduring remembrance.
And then—
The miracle deepened.
The gray sky turned golden.
A gentle rain of shimmering light began to fall.
Golden motes drifted like dandelion seeds, glowing with sacred warmth.
This was no ordinary rain.
It was divine grace made manifest.
It fell upon the graves, bathing them in soft radiance—as if the departed souls were bidding a peaceful farewell.
It fell upon the living, filling them with warmth and serenity.
Every wound—physical or emotional—began to heal.
Scars faded.
Nightmares dissolved.
The emptiness left by loss… was gently filled.
The entire Hogwarts grounds was immersed in this sacred rain.
The living were comforted.
The dead were laid to rest.
The deepest wound left by the war… was healed.
Tears still lingered on faces—but now, they were accompanied by quiet smiles.
Only then did everyone truly understand—
This man possessed not only the power to destroy the world…
…but also the compassion to heal it.
As reconstruction began, a crucial question arose:
What should the new magical world look like?
No one had the answer.
So once again, all eyes turned to Lin Sen.
Inside the Headmaster's office, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dumbledore, and others sat in tense anticipation. Across from them was Daphne Greengrass, now representing the powerful "New Noble Council."
They were all waiting.
"Lord Lin Sen," Kingsley finally asked, "where should reform begin?"
Lin Sen didn't even look up from his book.
"What was the root of Voldemort's rise?"
Hermione answered immediately, "Pure-blood supremacy."
"Correct," Dumbledore added.
Lin Sen closed his book.
"Then abolish it."
The room froze.
Abolish pure-blood supremacy?
That meant uprooting centuries of tradition, law, and social structure.
"B-but…" Kingsley stammered, "that would provoke massive resistance! The old noble families—"
Lin Sen simply looked at Daphne.
She stepped forward, understanding instantly.
"Minister," she said calmly, "their agreement… is irrelevant."
"Lord Lin Sen's will is the only law of the new era."
"Anything that stands in its way…"
"will be crushed."
~~--------------------------
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