The Noisy Conference Room

They started persuading the parents after getting up in the morning, spent some time in the morning finalizing the itinerary, and by the time they had packed some of their luggage, Loren and Hermione had seen off the Mr. and Mrs. Granger and Grandpa Bates, it was already lunchtime.

Loren and Hermione ordered room service to bring lunch to their room. The main course was steak and scones, served with a cream of mushroom soup. There were no pre-made meals available at this time. The lunch provided by the luxury hotel was worth the high price, and without the dentist couple supervising them, the two of them ate to their heart's content.

The dessert was ice cream scoops, served in an ice bucket, and they hadn't melted at all.

Hermione examined the ice cream closely and identified their flavors: the black one was chocolate, the pink one was strawberry, and what flavor was the light green one?

She scooped up a small spoonful and put it in her mouth. The cool, stimulating taste of grass burst in her mouth, and the piercing chill went straight into her nasal cavity, making the girl shiver slightly.

Hmm, it tastes like mint...

Hermione shook her head, quickly scooped a spoonful of strawberry ice cream onto her tongue, savored the sweetness of the strawberry, and then scooped a scoop of mint ice cream onto Loren's plate. "Here, have one for you."

"..."

Loren looked at the ice cream scoop with a missing piece and remained silent for a moment.

Never mind, Monica just told me to take good care of her.

Hermione glanced at his expression and quickly asked, "What do we do next? Wait for the International Wizarding Congress to start?"

"..."

What a clumsy attempt to change the subject.

Loren rolled his eyes at her, scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and put it in his mouth, taking advantage of the cool and refreshing minty aroma to sort through the information he had gathered over the past few days.

It is known that there is something sinister in the Brooklyn underground pipes, possibly Voldemort or the Scourers.

The Mr. and Mrs. Granger and Grandpa Bates had already driven out of town, and the fact that he and Hermione were able to evacuate quickly when they encountered the unknown event meant that things weren't as serious as they had thought.

There are two days left until the International Wizarding Congress.

After a moment's thought, Loren made a decision. "Let's go find Professor Dumbledore."

"Find Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione repeated it softly, with creamy foam clinging to the corners of her mouth.

In a meeting room on the middle floor of the Woolworth Building.

Dumbledore sat at the head of the conference table, his face obscured by crescent-shaped spectacles and a bushy white beard, making it impossible to discern his expression. He wore the robes of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, giving him an air of solemnity and majesty.

From the start of the meeting until now, he has only said two insignificant things. The other Minister for Magic present thought that he was the same as before, unwilling to participate in voting on any conflicts of interest, and gradually they ignored his authority.

This is not a formal meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. It is just a gathering of some interested magical governments to discuss some issues in advance. Sometimes they can reach a result that satisfies all parties, and sometimes they can only exchange insults. The issues will still be voted on by all participants at the formal meeting.

Dumbledore as a notary public to witness this event.

The Ministry of Magic from several countries participated in this forward-looking meeting, many of which are highly Ministry of Magic.

The German Ministry of Magic German Ministry of Magic maintained strict control over Erkling for centuries, reducing their chances of cannibalism.

The American Ministry of Magic has gone very far in its interactions with non-magical people. Although the Scourers caused them a lot of trouble, and the events of the 1920s nearly destroyed half of New York City, then-President of the Council, Seraphine Picquery, had extraordinary perseverance. After a period of complete isolation from Muggle, the Magical Congress, together with Ilvermorny, attempted to make contact with and absorb the achievements of Muggle culture, and is now developing the fastest.

The French Ministry of Magic has long been dedicated to protecting the rights of Veela and Veela- Half-blood- wizards; the Norwegian Ministry of Magic has made significant achievements in the field of Quidditch.

The New Zealand Ministry of Magic has devoted considerable time, effort, and resources to upholding the Statute of Secrecy, and is particularly adept at handling items related to wizards but lacking magical properties. One of its greatest achievements in recent decades has been preventing Muggle from acquiring Māori art depicting white wizards playing Quidditch.

Currently, these sculptures and paintings are on display at the Wellington headquarters of the New Zealand Ministry of Magic.

In addition, there are the Ministry of Magic Italian Ministry of Magic, Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, Liechtenstein Ministry of Magic, and many other small countries.

The spokesperson for the French Ministry of Magic, a strikingly beautiful woman, was describing the dumping of large quantities of low-grade Potions in France, prompting several other Ministry of Magic spokespeople to echo her sentiments.

"We must unite to raise raw material prices. If this continues, they will eventually overwhelm us with low prices!" the France spokesperson said sternly.

Dumbledore looked down and picked at his thumbnail. Since he turned one hundred, his nails had grown slower but thicker, making him look older than he did at ninety.

It's amazing how big Minerva's business has become; she certainly seems well-suited to be the headmistress of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore thought to himself with delight.

"Gaining control over raw materials is not in our hands; we must unite with the Ministry of Magic of India, Iran, Mongolia, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and other regions," said a spokesperson for the Italian Ministry of Magic. "This issue should be reserved for further discussion at the International Wizarding Congress!"

The France spokesperson seemed somewhat displeased, but instead of refuting him, she moved on to the next topic. "Next is the Anti-Werewolf Law from the British Ministry of Magic. Before other humanoid Magical Creatures join the meeting, we'd better reach a conclusion first to avoid arguing at the conference."

Werewolf are a special species, and wizards generally do not recognize their Werewolf status. However, some humanoid intelligent Magical Creatures, led by Vampire, do recognize Werewolf. The enactment and implementation of the Anti-Werewolf Law has already caused dissatisfaction among many races, who feel that if things continue this way, they might be the next race to be expelled.

The France spokesperson, who has close ties with the Veela, spoke with a questioning tone.

Upon hearing this, everyone in the room turned their gaze toward the representatives from the British Ministry of Magic. Two key speakers from the British Ministry of Magic were present at the meeting: Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was sitting next to him.

The others looked on with knowing smiles, after all, they all knew that the International Wizarding Congress, which was originally scheduled to be held in London, had recently changed its location.

Cornelius Fudge frowned. Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, the proposer and advocate of the Anti-Werewolf Law, was not present today, nor had he prepared a prepared statement on the issue.

Fudge gave Crouch a look, signaling him to stall for time.

Barty Crouch seemed somewhat distracted, ignoring the look the minister gave him.

Seeing this, Fudge had no choice but to bite the bullet and cough before stammering, "Werewolf... Werewolf are a serious threat to the wizarding community, and our British Ministry of Magic has always taken this issue very seriously... As you all know, the Wolfsbane Potion from not long ago was invented by the England wizard Damocles Belby..."

Dumbledore paid no attention to Fudge's stalling ramblings. He noticed that Mr. Crouch, who was not far away, had a vacant look in his eyes, seemed distracted, and looked very tired, just as he had been when he entered the meeting room.

A sliver of azure light shimmered behind the crescent-shaped glasses.

It's strange. In these days leading up to the International Wizarding Congress, everyone else is so idle they're practically sprouting up, so why does Mr. Crouch look so tired?

Seeking pleasure at night?

No, it's not.

Years ago, during the trial of the Death Eater, Dumbledore had crossed paths with Crouch, and he knew something about this upright man who had almost Minister for Magic. As far as he knew, Mr. Crouch Dumbledore a devoted man who had focused on his work since his wife's death and had never been involved in any scandals.

"... In conclusion, Werewolf remain a serious security threat to the wizarding community, and their infectious nature can even affect Muggle. Strict management of Werewolf is the most feasible solution, which is why we introduced the Anti-Werewolf Law."

Fudge had served Minister for Magic for several years, and after clearing his mind, his speech became more fluent and smooth. Although he didn't provide any useful information, he managed to get by.

As the United States most affected by the Anti-Werewolf Law, the spokesperson couldn't help but stand up. "So your actions are forcing Werewolf out of your country and making them migrate to the United States?"

Spokespeople from other countries and the Minister for Magic chuckled quietly, gloating as they waited to see what would happen.

Fudge pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead, saying with a forced tone, "You can join us in implementing the Anti-Werewolf Law..."

"And then what? You're going to implement your ' Anti-Werewolf Law ' all over the world until you drive them off the planet?" the United States spokesperson mocked. "Or are you planning to force all Werewolf to their deaths?"

They had considered recruiting Werewolf as special personnel, but the proposal was not approved due to the uncontrollable and contagious nature of Werewolf.

Fudge stammered, "Werewolf are a harmful group... and, moreover, this might be a relief for them—"

Before he could finish speaking, the France spokesperson's eyes were blazing with fury. Fudge even suspected that if he continued, the France spokesperson would bare his Veela's fangs and pounce on him to bite off his neck.

The two started arguing in the conference room. Fudge was not used to this kind of occasion, and the United States spokesperson would occasionally add a few annoying remarks, which made his face turn red with anger.

Dumbledore felt his eyes were being disturbed and turned to look out the window in disgust.

As night falls and the city lights come on, the Muggle electricity illuminates the city with a bright glow—a technology more wondrous than magic. The streetlights are neatly arranged on both sides of the road, resembling starlight in the Milky Way from afar.

Suddenly, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he saw several streetlights being plucked like fruit, swaying and gathering together before going out into the darkness.

Inside the office, the argument had stopped, and the issue of Werewolf was temporarily postponed thanks to the mediation of the Italy and Bulgaria spokespeople.

"The next topic is—"

"Excuse me," Dumbledore's deep voice interrupted the speech. He slowly stood up. "I want to go back and rest. Forgive this old man, but I must go to sleep at a certain time, otherwise I won't be able to sleep all night."

The others in the meeting room fell silent for a moment. They thought the reason was too perfunctory and suspected that Dumbledore was tired of their arguing. But then they thought that he was indeed a centenarian and had always been eccentric, so perhaps he really wanted to go back to sleep.

Several spokespeople who were on good terms with Dumbledore said goodnight and watched him leave the meeting room.

After seeing the door close and confirming that Dumbledore out of sight, Fudge shouted, "After all, it's an international trip, and Albus is over a hundred years old. It's normal for him to feel tired! Many wizards at his age, even without Dragon Pox, are already senile, their memories are confused, and they can't even hold a knife and fork properly!"

"Of course, I'm not saying Albus senile. It's normal for him to say strange things at his age. You know, he's always been quite eccentric..." Fudge made an embarrassed expression, as if trying to save face for Dumbledore. "Last year he even told me that 'that the Dark Lord, you know who he is' has returned."

The meeting room fell completely silent as everyone stared at Fudge and listened to his self-righteous speech.

"But let's think about it, if the Dark Lord is really still alive, why has the past ten years been so peaceful?"

"Even if what Albus said is true, and the Dark Lord returned last year, why have we been able to get through this year peacefully, don't you think?"

"If you ask me..."

In a narrow alley three blocks from Woolworth Building, an unbelievable scene is unfolding.

Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, were hiding behind a corner wall. The boy was holding a lighter-like object. Every time he lifted the metal cap, the light from the nearby streetlights would be plucked like fruit, and a bright yellow ball of light would whizz into the lighter and disappear into the small box.

"Will this really get Dumbledore's attention?" Hermione asked softly, her eyes fixed on the small box.

"Let's give it a try, I think he can see..."

Loren replied in a low voice that he had studied the Deluminator for a while when he first obtained it and had also seen the disassembly diagram. In addition to collecting and storing light, it also involved a very profound Alchemy, which was more complicated than he had imagined.

As we were talking, I turned around and suddenly saw a woman's silk glove floating in mid-air, its five fingers spread out and filled with silk, as if an invisible hand was putting on the glove.

Loren and Hermione stared intently at the gloves.

She waved her silk gloves in greeting and pointed to a tall building not far away.

"It seems to be showing us the way..." Hermione said hesitantly.

Loren nodded; he couldn't think of anyone else who could possess that Magic Power radiance, like a small sun.

The silk glove extended its hand in an invitation to shake hands. Loren thought for a moment, then took Hermione's hand with one hand and grasped the silk glove with the other.

A gentle Magic Power surged up, causing the surrounding space to be pulled and rapidly distorted.

The next second, he and Hermione disappeared into the alley.