HP: Man of Archives

From the headquarters, I set off, pondering my next destination. It wasn't an easy question to answer. I needed time to process the knowledge I'd absorbed and experiment with applying it in practice. While the idea of retreating to a secluded place appealed to me, I knew it wouldn't align with my current goal of building social connections.

For now, I decided to remain in a small German magical town—a haven for influential wizards from the hardest-hit regions. Many had fled to England, but they were expected to return soon to rebuild their homelands.

Malsburg-Marzell, a picturesque municipality nestled in Germany's rolling hills, is surrounded by the lush greenery of the Black Forest. It's an enchanting town that seems lifted from the pages of a mythical fairytale. Its ancient history is steeped in legendary events.

Entering through the main gates, visitors are greeted by the town's coat of arms: a wooded hill crowned by a majestic castle. This fortress-like structure lies at the heart of the town, encircled by the settlement. Today, it's filled with ordinary wizards, hardly capable of defending against demons or other formidable creatures.

During a goblin holy war, wizards from nearby towns and farms flocked here, seeking refuge. While the influx of refugees has filled the surrounding lands, not all areas were affected, so the population density isn't overwhelming.

The streets here are unlike those in any non-magical city. Magic is omnipresent and unmistakable. A potion shop's sign, for example, is an intricate illusion of a cauldron emitting green smoke. Nearby, a pet shop displays miniature versions of its animals for sale—dragons, the most captivating creatures, are especially popular and expensive.

Wizards spoke in a medley of languages, creating a fascinating cacophony.

As I wandered leisurely through the city, I admired its beauty, paying little attention to the wizards going about their business—or those soaring overhead on broomsticks.

At one point, I noticed a wizard standing by a large wooden stand. He wore a black robe and a red hat that completely concealed his head and face, save for eye slits. He stood frozen, immobile. Few wizards passed by him, and fewer still tossed him coins. Perhaps it was a form of performance art—an area I knew little about.

My first priority was finding lodging. As the leader of two guilds, I could request assistance from the local Guild administration. I doubted they'd refuse, but if no accommodations were available, I'd have to either return to my starting point or camp in the wilderness.

I chose this town partly out of fascination—its rich history and legends promised to hold countless untold tales.

The first guild I encountered was the Guild of Charms. Though not the largest building in the area, it exuded an air of nobility and antiquity, both in its physical structure and its magical aura. Its pastel-colored walls added to its charm.

Inside, the building was far larger than it appeared outside—a standard wizarding practice. The space buzzed with soft conversations and curious glances. Being a newcomer, it was natural to attract some attention.

To one side stood a registration desk, manned by an elderly wizard nursing a large mug of frothy drink. He wore a peculiar green hat adorned with a feather from some exotic bird.

"Good afternoon," I greeted him first, activating a translation artifact from China.

"Good afternoon," he replied, his surprise evident. "How can I assist you?"

"I'm looking for a place to stay for a while," I said directly.

"Unfortunately," he responded without hesitation, "there's nothing available in the guild or the surrounding area."

"I figured as much," I said with a sigh. "Can you recommend any alternatives?"

"If you have a tent, it's better to camp out in the wilderness," the wizard advised. "You could also try your luck with the locals or visitors in town, but I'll warn you—both options will cost you a fortune."

"I see," I replied, resigned. "Looks like I'll go with the first plan."

The wizard shrugged, offering no further suggestions. This outcome wasn't unexpected, so I left the guild and the city with a clear conscience.

I teleported to a familiar cave in the French Alps, a place I'd used as shelter before. Snow from a recent storm had completely buried the entrance, but a quick spell cleared the way. Once inside, I set to work warming the cave to a cozy, comfortable temperature.

After setting up my tent, I began preparing a simple meal and pondered where to start in my Archive. It contained three critical sections: the first held the memories of the Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries, the second encompassed the knowledge of a demon, and the third was filled with the insights of a demonic sorceress.

The most straightforward path was diving into the Unspeakable's memories. This would deepen my understanding of various disciplines and offer insights into the political landscape as seen by the Ministry of Magic's secretive Department of Mysteries.

Once I finished eating, I began the absorbing task of delving into the Unspeakable's memories. It was a long but captivating process, as Agent Zero had led an extraordinary life. Unlike most wizards, he'd never attended a magical school. Instead, he was homeschooled by some of the finest instructors of his era. His parents prioritized effective teaching over prestige, laying the foundation for an exceptional mind.

Had he attended Hogwarts, he would have graduated with honors. Instead, he embarked on a world tour, returning just as the Great War—what Muggles call the First World War—erupted. Joining the Auror Corps as a recruit, he quickly climbed the ranks, volunteering for the most dangerous missions. This earned him not only respect but unparalleled opportunities for learning. When Germany lost the war, he advocated for uncovering and claiming their magical secrets for the victors, benefitting significantly from this effort.

He soon joined the Department of Mysteries as a member of the Guard Team—an elite group tasked with protecting the Ministry's deepest secrets. His skills and intellect propelled him quickly through the ranks, eventually making him the guardian of one of the Department's enigmatic Halls.

The Department of Mysteries, hidden in the dungeons of the Ministry of Magic, is shrouded in secrecy. When Agent Zero first entered, he grasped why it was considered the stronghold of the unknown. Shadows seemed to whisper, the air brimming with foreboding, and the corridors pulsed with latent power.

This was no ordinary workplace. The Department safeguards the magical world's most profound enigmas, harboring forces even the most seasoned wizards can scarcely comprehend. And now, all that knowledge was mine—insight from the man who would one day rise to its helm.

As Agent Zero's career progressed, he gained access to groundbreaking research. Among the most impactful was the Time-Turner program. I'd long suspected wizards could manipulate time, but the extent of their capabilities exceeded my expectations.

Agent Zero exploited these devices to rewind his life three times, each by a full year. During these periods, he studied new disciplines under different names and appearances, using Polyjuice Potions to mask his identity. Between these intense study periods, he returned to his duties at the Department, continually advancing his skills.

This practice wasn't without cost. Prolonged tampering with time began to harm his body, forcing him to pause and take a long-term assignment monitoring ancient ruins in the Falkland Islands. The isolation helped stabilize his condition.

This ingenious use of time manipulation fueled his meteoric rise, eventually earning him the title of Deputy Agent Zero. Through a combination of luck and calculated manipulation, he succeeded his predecessor, Agent Zero, after the latter's untimely death during the Grindelwald War. By succession rules, he became head of the Department, inheriting the title and its immense responsibilities.

With his newfound power, he redirected the Department's resources toward projects that fascinated him personally—most notably, a quest to cheat Death itself. Yet despite his brilliance and access to unparalleled resources, he failed repeatedly. Each promising lead disintegrated at the last moment, leaving him clutching at illusions of success.

When he received information about demons and an invitation to join an attack team, he couldn't resist. The bodies of creatures not of this world were of immense interest to him. But, as they say, luck was not on his side.

What did I gain in the end?

The knowledge of a wizard who once led a secret state organization dedicated to researching all forms of magical phenomena—bound by very few restrictions—was now mine. This knowledge, which had long been a subject of great interest to Agent Zero, had been absorbed and was now fully accessible to me.

My understanding of mental magic, for instance, leapt from a respectable level to an advanced one. I could measure this progress by comparing my abilities before and after analyzing the wizard's memories. Techniques that had once been entirely unknown—or inconceivable—were now not only clear but within my reach.

Another domain where I gained significant expertise was curses. And these weren't your run-of-the-mill combat or academic curses; they were intricate, dark, and deeply rooted in black magic. While I had previously learned a fair amount from the sorceress's memories I'd absorbed, my comprehension of the mechanics, purposes, and nuances of curses had now grown a hundredfold.

In potions, too, I gained valuable insights. The wizard, as head of the Department of Mysteries, had a level of mastery that could rival a true Potions Master. Although I find it difficult to gauge the exact extent of this expertise, the depth and breadth of his knowledge were undeniable.

Lastly, I noted improvements in artifact creation and related disciplines, such as Numerology, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and other specialized fields. These disciplines, often overlooked, now felt more accessible and meaningful.

However, my proficiency in Charms, Transfiguration, and Combat Magic remained largely unchanged. In these areas, I was already far more skilled than the wizard had been, thanks to my Archive—a resource granting me capabilities he could never have attained.

Interestingly, the wizard had steered clear of overtly dark practices, which came as a relief. I had endured enough darkness for several lifetimes and welcomed the absence of it.

When I finally came to, a profound exhaustion weighed on me—a sensation best remedied by rest. After regaining my strength with a hearty meal, I surrendered to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to find an unfamiliar magical creature in my cave. It resembled a silvery squirrel with unusually large fangs but was the size of a small boar rather than a typical squirrel. Its eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice cutting through the stillness.

To my surprise, I felt a light mental touch—a gentle probing that startled me. I hadn't expected this creature to possess any notable abilities. But as the saying goes, never judge a book by its cover. Relenting, I allowed a telepathic connection to form. Almost immediately, I received a mental image of a nut.

The squirrel shifted its posture, radiating a pleading energy.

"A nut?" I asked.

It nodded vigorously, then tapped its claw against its palm, further emphasizing its need.

"I don't have any nuts like that," I replied, shaking my head.

The creature responded with a flood of mental imagery: glaciers cracking, mountains splitting, and forces of nature clashing violently. The visions were bizarre and otherworldly, but I resisted the urge to question them too deeply. Who was I to judge the logic of a magical squirrel?

Certain I hadn't ingested any hallucinogens, I concluded that this squirrel wasn't here for me.

"I don't have them," I repeated, my tone firm.

The squirrel appeared to acknowledge my words with a slow nod, and the mental connection dissolved. Just then, an intense, bone-deep chill washed over me. In a flash, the creature vanished into a spatial rift that radiated an eerie cold. Only after the portal closed did I realize the immense pressure that had accompanied this otherworldly being.

To calm and warm myself, I prepared a cup of hot tea and began contemplating which shelf of memories to analyze next: the sorceress or the demon? The sorceress intrigued me more, primarily because she had been a magic-user. Her knowledge promised valuable insights—new approaches, directions, and perspectives in the magical arts. Who knows? I might uncover something truly extraordinary.

Given that this sorceress hailed from another world and wasn't entirely human, I decided to proceed with caution. My past experiences with absorbing weaker demons had taught me that there were no negative side effects, but those entities weren't particularly powerful or dangerous. Who could predict what lay hidden in the memories of a sorceress of her caliber?

When I began analyzing her immense bookshelf of memories, it quickly became apparent that this would take more than a day. Determined to unlock her knowledge, I resolved to press on without hesitation.

From her earliest recollections, it was evident that she and the demon were entirely different races. The sorceress belonged to a race known as the Draenei, a branch of the Eredar species native to the world of Argus.

Magic was ever-present in Draenei society, surrounding her from birth. This constant exposure fostered her deep fascination with the magical arts and her desire to create something extraordinary. What followed were decades of rigorous training, during which I absorbed alongside her the fundamentals of magic unique to her race.

After completing her formal education, she apprenticed under a mentor who also became her first love. While he was a capable teacher and imparted much knowledge, he did not hesitate to exploit her for his personal pleasures. Those particular memories were difficult and unpleasant to endure.

Her practical training began with joining a demon squad tasked with invading a specific world. This "internship" marked her recognition as a fully-fledged mage capable of independent decision-making—but not in the society where she was born. Upon completing her training, all Draenei mages were conscripted into the army of a designated Archdemon, sworn to participate in its campaigns to conquer various worlds. This marked the beginning of her rise in prominence.

After successfully destroying and conquering two worlds without regard for the victims, she earned recognition as a skilled and formidable mage. Her reputation enabled her to advance from a mere "private" to an officer, leading squads on behalf of her Archdemon. It was in this capacity that she ultimately arrived here, alongside her immediate superior.

When I finally opened my eyes, my throat felt parched as if I had been wandering through a desert. My body was drained, but the exhaustion wasn't severe enough to jeopardize my health. Summoning a watch, I checked the time and was stunned to discover that over seven days had passed since I began the analysis.

Seven days of relentless effort had been worth the trove of knowledge now stored in my mind. To deepen my understanding further, I decided to conduct a Super Analysis, allowing my Archive to identify patterns and extract additional insights.

"Has the master recovered?" a voice asked, as a house-elf appeared suddenly in my cave.

"Hello," I nodded, conjuring a bath to rejuvenate myself. "What do you need?"

House-elves, I knew, could locate individuals they were familiar with effortlessly. Though I only vaguely recognized this elf from a prior encounter at Hogwarts, he seemed to know me well enough to find me without difficulty.

"The headmaster of Hogwarts requests your presence at a meeting with the Department of Education of the French Ministry of Magic, as well as with the English Minister of Magic," the elf informed me. "Additionally, he wishes to invite you to the next session of the International Confederation of Wizards."

"I see," I replied with a nod. "Where and when is the meeting with the Department of Education?"

"The headmaster believes it should be addressed sooner rather than later," the elf answered. "If you're ready, I can transport you to Paris."

"Have they already rebuilt it?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"A thousand wizards working in three shifts can accomplish far more than that," the elf replied. "And with the help of house-elves…"

"I see," I said with a nod. "I'll need some time to prepare."

"Of course," the elf said, bowing slightly. "Call me when you're ready to depart. My name is Capibarus."

As I soaked in the hot bath, I reflected on everything I had gained over the past several days. First, there were the diverse insights from the agent. Then, the entirely new perspective of the Draenei sorceress, whose memories had expanded my understanding of magic exponentially. At this point, I could arguably claim to be one of the most knowledgeable wizards on the planet. Still, there were gaps. For instance, I lacked expertise in shamanic magic practiced by certain wizards in Africa and South America. Nor could I call myself a master wandmaker; while I possessed theoretical knowledge, I had no practical experience.

Even so, I began to consider ways to integrate everything I'd learned. The Draenei's spell, for example—a transformative enchantment that could turn a target into a sheep or chicken—bore striking similarities to traditional Transfiguration magic. Though the casting methods differed significantly, the core principle—changing one substance into another—was identical. Such overlaps hinted at countless possibilities for innovative spellwork.

Once I had cleaned up and eaten, I summoned the house-elf. Capibarus appeared instantly, took my hand, and transported me to the meeting location. I made a mental note to ward my space against teleportation by house-elves and similar entities in the future if I wanted true privacy.

We arrived at the headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards.

The headquarters was a majestic and enchanting structure nestled in the picturesque landscape of Liechtenstein, near the stunning Wildspitze mountain. As I approached, I was immediately struck by the grandeur of its luxurious facade. Intricately detailed carvings, statues, and reliefs adorned the exterior, celebrating the rich history and artistry of the wizarding world. Soft pastels and warm tones complemented the intricate designs, creating an inviting atmosphere.

The main entrance featured an imposing set of double doors flanked by elegant columns supporting a triangular pediment. Above the doors, a large circular window allowed natural light to flood the spacious atrium, casting mesmerizing patterns on the walls. The entire building emanated magical energy, capable of subtly altering spatial perceptions.

The roof was a masterpiece of architectural design, with steeply sloped, curved gables rising gracefully toward the sky, harmonizing with the surrounding mountainous landscape. At the highest point, a golden phoenix-shaped weathervane stood proudly, symbolizing the magical community's resilience and adaptability.

Surrounding the building, lush magical gardens served as a serene retreat for visitors and staff alike. Vibrant flowers, neatly trimmed lawns, and charming water features created a tranquil environment. Hidden among the greenery were statues of wizards and witches, each telling a story of the past.

Inside, the building was no less impressive. A luxurious hall greeted us, its high vaulted ceilings and majestic staircases exuding grandeur. The corridors were wide and adorned with exquisite tapestries and paintings depicting pivotal moments in magical history. Plush carpets and polished marble floors guided visitors through the expansive space, while opulent chairs provided seating beneath chandeliers that cast a warm, inviting glow.

As I wandered through the halls, I stopped to admire a painting depicting a legendary battle from the third millennium BCE. It showed wizards uniting against monstrous creatures, said to have been the first anomalies cultivated by magic to gain an advantage in war. According to the History of Magic, these creatures became uncontrollable, forcing their creators to band together to stop them.

Behind me, I heard solitary footsteps. Turning, I saw Albus Dumbledore approaching, his expression thoughtful and familiar. He stopped a few steps away and shifted his gaze to the painting.

"Hm," the wizard murmured thoughtfully. "In five thousand years, someone will likely look at a painting of our battle with the demons in much the same way. Time and life are truly relative."

"Are we going to have a painting too?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied with a faint smile. "Well then... shall we? Had you arrived tomorrow, you'd have missed the session. It's in full swing right now."

We made our way through the magnificent halls. At the entrance to a large door, guards clad in silvery armor gave us indifferent glances before silently escorting Dumbledore and me inside.

The main assembly hall of the International Confederation of Wizards was awe-inspiring, resembling the Colosseum as depicted in third-year History of Magic textbooks. Rows of statues lined the upper walls, guarding the entrances and lending an air of gravitas to the chamber. The stairs, crafted from black diamond streaked with red veins, created striking divisions between the seating rows, enhancing the overall aesthetic.

At the center of the amphitheater was a raised platform bearing the Confederation's emblem, reserved for speakers. Delegations from around the world filled the seats, their robes and banners reflecting the diversity of magical nations. A quick glance revealed prominent figures, including the Ministers of Magic from England, France, and several other nations.

The seating arrangement ensured every participant had an unobstructed view, fostering active engagement. Representatives could observe, listen, and contribute to debates addressing the advancement of magical culture, peacekeeping, and safety within the wizarding world. Dumbledore guided me to a bench near the very top, close to the entrance, where seats were designated for observers and press members.

The assembly hall employed cutting-edge magical technologies to ensure seamless communication among delegates of various languages and cultures. Enchanted artifacts allowed each participant to speak in their native tongue while being understood by all. I recognized these artifacts from my travels in China, where they were pioneered centuries ago. Young assistants scurried between rows, delivering notes and messages.

The hall's lighting emphasized the central platform, casting warm, bright illumination that drew attention to the speakers and the critical issues being addressed. At that moment, an Englishman was speaking passionately:

"Perhaps we should conduct additional research and testing on this material before making a final decision. Furthermore, developing multiple cauldron models with different base materials would allow individuals to choose options best suited to their needs and capabilities."

A soft murmur rippled through the hall as wizards exchanged whispered opinions.

"What's the topic of discussion?" I asked the woman seated beside me. She turned with an irritated expression, clearly annoyed by the interruption. However, upon recognizing me, her demeanor shifted instantly. Her eyes lit up with recognition, followed by a honey-sweet smile.

"You're Timothy Jody," she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't expect to see you here today. This has truly made my day."

"Oh, no need for that," I replied evenly. "What's the discussion about?"

"Cauldrons and their bases," she answered promptly, her tone losing its initial edge.

"Oh," I murmured, somewhat underwhelmed.

"You know," a Spanish representative interjected from a nearby row, "that's actually a good idea. We could combine our research efforts on the matter…"

"And my name is Rita Skeeter," the woman beside me added, reclaiming my attention with a practiced charm. "Reporter for the Daily Prophet."

"Pleased to meet you," I replied, remaining polite but guarded. "How's work treating you?"

"Oh, thank you for asking," she said with a sly laugh. "I find great joy in interacting with fascinating wizards. Would you be interested in speaking with me after this session? I know a cozy room where we could have a private chat… I could write a fantastic article about you."

Her smile turned cunning, and her gaze sharpened.

"I'm not ready for that just yet," I replied coolly, aware of her reputation for scandalous journalism. No doubt, she'd twist any material she gathered into something sensational for her paper. "Perhaps another time."

"Of course, of course," Rita Skeeter said, masking her disappointment with a quick nod.

The brief exchange caused me to miss the delegates' conclusion on the cauldron debate. Then again, was it truly important? Probably not.

At that moment, Dumbledore stepped onto the podium. The room immediately quieted, all eyes turning to him. As a leader of significant political influence, Dumbledore had a unique ability to sway nations toward the decisions he believed were just.

"Friends," he began, his voice calm but commanding, "before we break for lunch, I'd like to introduce another topic for discussion. The Emergency Committee has been gathering preliminary data on the effects of the anomaly and the demons. I propose we hear their report and consider our next steps."

A middle-aged witch, poised and confident, took the stage. She wasn't young, but neither could she be described as elderly—her presence exuded an air of practiced authority.

"Following the defeat of the demons and the start of Paris's restoration, we've begun collecting data on potential repercussions," she began. "I won't take up much of your time, but here's the situation: the demons that appeared have dispersed across multiple European countries and may attempt to push further east. But that isn't the main problem. Some of these demons possess the ability to corrupt ordinary humans, turning them into half-demons—or, in more extreme cases, full demons. Over the past week alone, we've identified more than a hundred such instances."

She paused briefly, letting the gravity of her words sink in.

"As this situation requires an urgent solution, I've already discussed it with Headmaster Dumbledore, and he supports my proposal," the witch continued. "Spells from the field of demonology work exceptionally well against these creatures. Therefore, I propose including basic demonology training in the senior curriculum of all magical schools."

Her statement was met with dead silence. Delegates exchanged cautious glances, gauging their neighbors' reactions before venturing to speak.

"I understand this will be a difficult decision for many," she said, her voice steady despite the palpable tension. "I am well aware of the stigma surrounding demonology—how Grindelwald's demonologists, and those before him under the Kaiser, indulged in... unspeakable practices. But without this knowledge, we will find it incredibly difficult to eradicate this scourge. Demons are like a disease, spreading and corrupting everything they touch. That is all."

She stepped aside, and Dumbledore once again took the stage.

"Before we vote on this matter, I believe it's time for a lunch break," he said. "During the meal, you may discuss the proposal and consider how you plan to vote. But I strongly urge you to support this measure. On that note, I declare the session adjourned for lunch."

The room erupted into motion. Wizards rose from their seats, their voices blending into a cacophony of animated discussions. The witch's proposal was no trivial matter. A vote in favor could fundamentally alter magical education, introducing demonology to the senior curriculum. Without this knowledge, however, mastering spells to combat demons would be near impossible.

"Mr. Jody," Rita Skeeter called after me, her tone honeyed. "Might you escort a lady to the dining hall?"

"Perhaps not," I replied curtly. "I have other matters to attend to."

Turning away, I felt a flicker of irritation—not just at her persistent flirtation, but at myself for even momentarily considering it. Her charms were transparent, and I had no intention of being drawn into her schemes.

The dining hall was easy to find, as most of the attendees were already heading there, their debates continuing unabated. Though I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, snippets of conversation floated toward me:

"But how will we organize it?" one wizard asked.

Or something like:

"I don't think the consequences will be as bloody as you suggest," countered another. "You're exaggerating. With proper instruction and preparation, any antisocial tendencies can be neutralized."

These and similar discussions filled the air, surprising me somewhat. I hadn't expected such vigorous debate about how to address the problem. Then again, people love debating solutions once they're presented, rather than coming up with them. This was no different.

The dining hall reflected the building's overall grandeur. Even the tables and chairs exuded opulence, with intricate designs and polished finishes. There were areas for sitting and chatting, as well as open spaces for mingling. Guests could help themselves from an elaborate buffet or order directly from an extensive menu—there seemed to be no restrictions on choice.

I soon spotted Dumbledore waving me over. He was surrounded by several wizards wearing the insignias of the French Ministry of Magic.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," I greeted them with a nod as I approached.

"Monsieur Jody," a tall wizard replied, nodding in return. "A pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you as well," I said, offering a polite smile. "You must be...?"

"Antoine de Chardin," he introduced himself. "Minister of Magic for France. These are my colleagues and assistants."

"A pleasure to meet you all," I said, acknowledging the others with a nod.

"Monsieur Jody, what are your thoughts on the proposal to teach demonology to young wizards?" Antoine asked. Dumbledore's gaze also turned to me, his expression marked by curiosity and interest.

"Hmm," I said thoughtfully. "It's a complex issue. If everything we've heard about the demons is accurate, then students should at least have a basic understanding of how to defend against these creatures. After all, we already teach students how to handle boggarts, pixies, and other magical pests. Why not demons? That said, I believe demonology should be introduced as an elective course. This approach would ensure that only students genuinely interested in learning it pursue the subject, reducing potential backlash."

Antoine nodded approvingly. "I've been thinking along similar lines. Monsieur Dumbledore, you can count on France's support."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said with a slight bow of his head. "That gladdens both my heart and my mind."

"Monsieur Jody," Antoine continued, "I'd like to discuss a few additional matters with you. When might you have time for a meeting?"

"Why delay?" I replied. "We have some free time now, so we could discuss it right away... unless you already have something planned?"

Antoine glanced at his assistants. They all shook their heads, signaling that there were no conflicting engagements during lunch.

"An excellent idea," Antoine agreed.

"Then I'll leave you, gentlemen," Dumbledore said. "I trust you'll reach an important agreement."

We moved to a nearby empty table and placed modest lunch orders. Antoine's assistants quietly excused themselves, leaving me with the Minister and another individual who had yet to speak but wore an unchanging, almost unnerving smile. How someone could hold the same expression for so long was beyond me—it felt calculated.

I had a sense that this conversation would touch on the matter Dumbledore had already warned me about.