MACUSA Headquarters ...
Magi-Mundial Concord...
The Magi-Mundial Concord had officially begun.
Inside the ornate chamber at the heart of MACUSA Headquarters,
Magical representatives from every corner of the globe had gathered, their diverse robes, badges, and magical auras shimmering under the enchanted chandeliers.
Seated in rows forming a wide circle, the Wizard's Delegation faced their Muggle counterparts—
those few, highly vetted and sworn-to-secrecy individuals representing various global powers.
At the centre of the room was the Speaking Pillar, an ancient, enchanted monolith that amplified the voice of whoever addressed the hall.
The current speaker was a tall Muggle representative from Europe, his face weary and his voice strained.
"Respected members of the Magi-Mundial Concord,"
He began, his voice clear.
"We thank you for this opportunity. We come not with accusations, but with a humble request."
A few magical leaders leaned forward with curiosity.
"As some of you might be aware,"
He continued,
"A new pandemic has emerged among us normal humans. We tried our best to control it. However, its rate of mutation, transmission, and resistance to conventional medicine has become... deeply concerning."
He paused, glancing across the room.
"We understand that the magical community may not intervene in our normal human affairs directly."
"Yet we're here to ask: Is there any knowledge, healing techniques, or potion research your world could share to help us develop an antidote faster?"
"Even indirect support—research exchange or joint facilities—could mean the difference between containing this or facing something catastrophic."
As the Muggle representative's plea echoed in the air, the chamber fell into a pensive silence.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Ministers and envoys from magical communities across the globe exchanged murmurs and narrowed glances, their expressions unreadable.
Some leaned back in their seats, deep in thought.
Others scribbled notes, conversed in hushed voices, or tapped their enchanted quills as magical parchments updated in real time.
After a moment,
A delegate from the Indian Ministry stood up—
An elderly wizard in ochre robes.
"Before arriving here, we had already received winds of this pandemic,"
He said calmly.
"Executives were dispatched from multiple ministries to observe the situation covertly. And gather information without disturbing Muggle efforts."
Heads across the hall turned, listening carefully now.
"Our potion masters and magical disease researchers have come to a consensus: this is not a curse, nor is it a result of dark magic or magical experimentation gone wrong."
He paused for emphasis.
"Rather, it appears to be an animal-borne disease, one that mutated rapidly due to improper processing of meat or body parts before consumption."
"Its structure suggests a natural origin, though accelerated by poor regulation and unsanitary handling practices while processing the animals."
A stir rippled across the floor—
quiet murmurs of understanding and tension.
"That being said,"
The Indian delegate continued,
"Just because the disease is non-magical, doesn't mean we should stand idle."
A few delegates nodded in agreement.
Several others looked unsure, caught between the laws of secrecy and whether to extend their help to Muggles.
They were clearly hesitant.
As the Indian elder wizard concluded his statement, the grand hall fell into a heavy silence.
On one side of the chamber,
The Muggle representatives leaned forward slightly in their seats.
Their faces were hopeful, though strained—
anxious for a sign, a gesture of willingness from the magical community.
Behind them, aides with binders full of grim statistics whispered nervously.
But on the other side of the hall, among the magical delegates, the atmosphere was quite different.
Some ministers and high-ranking officials shared sceptical looks.
A few openly scoffed under their breath.
Several ministers remained expressionless, while others subtly turned to confer with their own entourages.
Then, a tall, sharp-eyed delegate from the German Wizarding Ministry stood up, adjusting his robes stiffly.
"With due respect,"
He began, his voice cool,
"Our investigation also confirmed that this disease has no ties to any known magical contamination. No traces of cursed meat, magical pathogens, or dark enchantments were found."
"If it is purely non-magical... then why should the magical world intervene? Especially when our involvement might threaten the Statute of Secrecy?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the magical representative's side of the room.
A few even began tapping their wands against their chair arms—a quiet sign of impatience.
"Let the Muggle governments deal with their own failings."
muttered a delegate from the Russian contingent.
"We have our own troubles to manage."
From the French seat, another voice joined in, more diplomatic but still hesitant.
"Assisting them might set a precedent. What happens the next time there's a war? Or climate crisis? Shall we step in every time?"
The hopeful expressions of the Muggle delegation slowly began to falter.
Jenkins was about to stand when Leo subtly placed a hand on her arm, signalling her to wait.
He glanced around the room,
silently noting who remained neutral, who opposed, and who wavered on the edge.
He knew this wasn't just a matter of science or responsibility—
It was a test of unity.
A measure of how far the magical world would go to be truly global in a time of shared crisis.
But before he could speak, an unexpected figure rose from the Japanese delegation—
An elderly witch with snow-white hair tied in a bun, her wand carved from sakura wood, rested lightly on the table.
"The question isn't whether it is our duty,"
She said softly but firmly,
"But whether we still possess the compassion and wisdom to act beyond obligation."
The room grew still again, her words lingering.
Leo smiled faintly and whispered to Jenkins,
"I think Muggle just got their spark."
Despite the hopeful tone from the Japanese elder, the room remained divided.
Some magical leaders nodded slowly in reflection, but many still sat rigid—
unmoved, their minds focused more on politics, history, and the risk of exposure rather than unity.
It was then that Minister Jenkins rose from her seat.
Her presence silenced the murmurs.
"_____"
She was not just representing Britain—
She was known for her outspoken stance on change, and eyes from both sides of the hall turned toward her, waiting.
She looked across the chamber—
at wizards, witches, and Muggles alike—before finally speaking:
"Let me remind you all… this might be the right chance for the magical community to reintroduce itself to the grand world stage—not in secrecy or fear, but in strength, wisdom, and compassion."
Her voice rang clearly, echoing across the marble pillars of the great hall.
"For too long, we have kept ourselves apart. The Statute of Secrecy was born from fear—justified, perhaps, in its time—but the world has changed."
She let the words settle, then continued with calm confidence:
"Right now, the situation is aligning in our favour. The Muggle governments have not come here with demands or suspicion—they have come seeking help."
"This is not an obligation. This is an opportunity."
She turned slowly, facing different sections of the hall as she spoke:
"To show the world that magic is not just a force to be hidden, feared, or fought against—but a force that can heal, guide, and inspire."
"If we wait until it's too late, until another wall is built between us, we may never get this chance again."
She finally paused, gaze sharp.
"So I ask you all… what do we want history to remember us for? Silence? Or a new beginning?"
A hush fell over the chamber.
Even the most cynical of delegates seemed momentarily stilled by the conviction in her voice.
Across the room, Leo smiled faintly, his arms crossed.
And slowly… hands began to rise.
First one, then another.
A subtle shift was beginning.
As more hands rose in support of Jenkins' vision, a quiet murmur of hope rippled through the hall.
For the first time in centuries, unity between the magical and non-magical world didn't feel like an illusion—
It felt like a possibility.
But then—
A single hand rose.
Not just any hand.
Leo's.
Seated calmly with a stern expression and sharp eyes, he stood up, drawing the attention of everyone like a sudden gust in a quiet room.
Jenkins turned toward him, eyebrows raised in surprise.
She hadn't expected him to be the voice of caution.
Leo didn't waste time.
His voice was calm, but carried the weight of realism.
"Hope is a beautiful thing,"
He said.
"But unchecked hope without caution? That's a gamble."
The hall fell silent again.
"____"
"I agree the magical world needs to move forward. Hiding forever isn't the answer. But…"
He looked at Jenkins, then around the room.
"What happens if the Muggle world doesn't meet us with open arms? What happens if fear takes over again?"
Some Muggle representatives looked uneasy.
Others nodded—
They knew history, too.
"What happens when a church—somewhere, anywhere—decides to reignite old fires, claiming we are unnatural?"
Leo continued.
"What happens when governments decide to exploit or contain magical beings like weapons or creatures? When we reveal ourselves, we give up the only advantage we've had for centuries—mystery."
He paused, and his next words were sharp as steel.
"I'm not saying don't act. I'm saying—act wisely."
Then came the suggestion that stilled even Jenkins:
"If we're going to do this, it must be gradual. Strategic. Controlled. With safeguards."
He looked directly at the magical ministers.
"Let's create a unified magical council—with liaisons to the Muggle world. Let's build a layered exposure plan. If the Muggle world wants our help… they need to be willing to cooperate—on our terms."
Then, to the Muggles in the room:
"It's not that we don't trust you. It's what we remember. And we don't want history to repeat itself."
A long silence followed.
"____"
Jenkins took a breath.
Her stance was still hopeful, but she now nodded in agreement.
"Wise words,"
She said softly.
A few ministers who were on the fence now looked thoughtful—
Some were even relieved.
It wasn't rejection. It was structured.
It was the strategy. It was leadership.
And in that moment, Leo's voice added the final anchor to Jenkins' dream—
Hope balanced by caution.
Though Leo held no official title within any ministry, his presence carried a weight none could ignore.
He had not just spoken—
He had commanded the room.
Chosen by Minister Jenkins herself, and bearing a family name etched in the annals of magical history, his words were not brushed off as mere caution—
They were taken as strategic foresight.
Many in the hall might have seen him at first as an outsider to politics.
Not anymore.
Now, they saw a visionary.
One who understood both the light and the darkness of revealing their world to the Muggles.
Whispers gave way to quiet nods.
Murmurs turned to subtle agreements.
Even among those who once sat on the fence, unsure whether to side with Jenkins or retreat into secrecy, Leo's conviction had drawn a line of clarity.
"He's right,"
Murmured one Scandinavian minister.
"We must proceed—but with layers,"
added the Egyptian delegate.
"The risk is real,"
said a South American representative,
"but so is the opportunity."
These were not naïve leaders.
They had clawed their way into power in a hidden world that rarely forgave mistakes.
They understood that bold moves must be measured, not reckless.
Soon, the call for a formal vote echoed through the great chamber.
Wands were raised.
Magical seals cast.
Votes registered.
A luminous projection filled the air—each golden star representing a vote in favour.
The majority ruled in agreement.
The proposal—
to aid the Muggle world in handling the pandemic while establishing a slow, controlled path toward magical revelation—
was officially approved.
Jenkins exhaled in relief, a subtle smile tugging at her lips.
She glanced sideways at Leo.
"Looks like your caution carried more weight than you imagined."
She said quietly.
Leo just gave a small nod, his gaze fixed on the golden projection in the air, already planning what the next steps must be.
The tension that had gripped them since the beginning had now given way to cautious optimism.
One of the Muggle delegates, a tall man with greying hair and a gentle presence—Ambassador Roland Hayes from the World Health Diplomacy Council—
stepped forward.
He cleared his throat, adjusting the lapel pin that bore his nation's insignia.
"This is a moment I never thought I'd witness,"
He began, his voice steady yet reverent,
"A moment where two worlds, long separated by secrecy and scars of the past, finally find common ground in something as simple, and as profound, as mutual help."
He turned toward Leo with a respectful nod.
"What Professor Leo said… rings true. It is in human nature to fear the unknown, especially when they feel powerless before it. History is full of such fears—wars, witch hunts, betrayals. But understanding… partnership… that is how we break the cycle."
The magical representatives listened closely.
"On behalf of my colleagues, I promise this: we will do everything within our ability to aid the magical world. Be it through research, logistics, diplomacy, or information control—anything you require to achieve your goal of reappearance, you will not be alone in it."
There was no pretense in his voice. No politics. Just genuine gratitude and humility.
Several Muggle representatives behind him nodded with teary eyes, visibly moved.
A quiet hum of magic shimmered through the room—whether it was from the ambient wards or the subtle stirrings of something greater, none could tell.
As the meeting formally concluded and the hall began to slowly empty, groups of delegates broke off into smaller clusters, their voices low and filled with cautious hope.
But amidst the growing chatter and handshakes of newfound cooperation, Leo's expression remained tense.
He stood still, eyes narrowed, scanning the surroundings—not with suspicion, but calculation.
Something didn't sit right with him.
"This is too quiet…"
he thought, mentally pulling up the system interface in his mind.
The task conditions were explicit—Harold Mitchum and his followers would make a move during the Concord.
Yet… the meeting had ended without incident.
A sharp gleam flickered in Leo's golden eyes.
'What if… they weren't after the meeting itself? What if they were after muggle representative's who were returning from the concord.'
He leaned in toward Jenkins and whispered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear:
"What if their plan isn't here, but somewhere else, while our eyes were all on this summit?"
Jenkins' gaze sharpened immediately.
Her diplomatic smile vanished as she gave him a curt nod, understanding the weight of his words.
Without delay, she turned and made her way through the crowd, finding and whispering urgently to Director Graves of MACUSA.
The older witch stiffened visibly, her sharp grey eyes darting toward Leo, then around the hall.
She didn't hesitate.
With a flick of her wand, she summoned a silvery Patronus in the shape of an Eagle and sent it soaring out of the hall.
"That message will alert MACUSA's Internal Security, Department of Magical Defence, and Ward Surveillance."
She said firmly.
"If anything is happening, we'll find it."
Leo's fingers twitched slightly, almost subconsciously brushing against the living, shadowy cloak—the Lethifold—latched gently on his shoulders.
It stirred, sensing his unease.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N): I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!! It will Motivate Me.