As President, My Power Is Unlimited

The aroma of Italy seafood paella hadn't completely dissipated from the restaurant yet; the night at Grimmauld Place, Number 13 was relaxing and satisfying.

Hermione and Ron returned to their room to rest, with Ron claiming he needed to process the extra energy expended from socializing with Malfoy.

Harry, Veratia, and Cassandra stayed in the Living Room, each doing their own thing, yet sharing a comfortable silence.

Cassandra occupied a single sofa, a book spread out on her lap—a book about the exchange of magical Civilization between ancient Northern Europe and the Mediterranean Sea.

Veratia leaned back on the sofa, several Ministry of Magic briefings Leviosa in front of her, shimmering with a faint light. She would occasionally tap them with her fingertips, and annotations would appear and disappear like flowing water.

Harry sat beside her, seemingly fiddling with a Muggle puzzle, but his gaze kept drifting to the other two, occasionally letting out a silly grin.

Hilarious! He could live like that for a hundred years—no, a hundred years wouldn't be enough!

The next day, life continued at this reassuring pace.

Ron and Harry spent the morning tinkering in the old batting practice room in the basement, trying to fix a few moving targets. They ended up covered in dust, their laughter and occasional explosions making Hermione upstairs shake her head in disbelief.

Cassandra spent the entire morning in her study, only appearing at lunchtime. After dealing with a batch of urgent documents, Veratia joined the afternoon garden chat, even allowing Hermione to offer some rather sharp suggestions for revising several draft laws that were about to be released.

"Very insightful, Hermione," Veratia praised. "With this critical thinking, you'll do very well as Minister's Assistant."

Hermione's face glowed with excitement, while Ron stood proudly to the side.

In the evening, a silver letter bearing the Ministry of Magic's urgent seal was delivered by a Patronus owl, breaking the tranquility.

The Patronus owl flew straight to Veratia's hand, who was watching the sunset on the terrace, and after disappearing, left behind a roll of Parchment.

Veratia unfolded the book and quickly scanned it. The relaxed expression on her face faded visibly, and her brows furrowed deeply.

Harry and Cassandra noticed the change in her expression almost simultaneously. Harry put down the Bellflower potted plant he was holding, Cassandra closed the book on her lap.

"Bad news?" Harry asked.

Veratia handed him the Parchment, her tone calm. "South America. Something big has happened at the Argentine Ministry of Magic. Their Minister was publicly executed, in a very public display."

Harry took the Parchment, and Cassandra leaned forward slightly to look at it as well.

The Parchment described the events of the Frosted Apple Incident in concise, official language, accompanied by magical images—though processed to reduce their visual impact, the horrifying shapes covered in Disco-Mee and the Dark Mark shimmering in the slime mentioned at the end were still enough to make one lose their mind.

"The Dark Mark— " he whispered.

Cassandra stared intently at the description of the Disco-Mee and the Frosted Apple, shaking her head slightly.

"It's more than just execution," her voice was icy. "This is a meticulously crafted ritualistic terror, designed to destroy the will to resist and establish absolute dominance based on fear. And the reappearance of the Dark Mark cannot simply be the imitation of some remnant fanatic."

"Of course it's not imitation," Veratia continued, fully embracing her role as Minister for Magic. "Intelligence indicates that over the past few months, several of the largest Dark Wizard Gang and illegal organizations in Brazil and Argentina have undergone dramatic consolidation, their operational patterns becoming more unified and efficient than ever before. There's clearly a powerful core directing this, and it highly overlaps with the location where Voldemort last disappeared. Now, with this marker—we have reason to be certain that he's behind it all."

"South America— " Harry chewed on the word, trying to connect the image of sunshine, Quidditch, and exuberance with this cold and cruel method, "What does he want to do? Rebuild another magical empire?"

"Worse," Cassandra analyzed, her fingers unconsciously tapping the book cover. "Judging from the report, he's integrating the forces of the underworld—a Potions network, smuggling routes, black market resources. This doesn't seem like a direct declaration of war; it's more like building a vast network of underground interests and terror. The Frosted Apple at the Ministry of Magic's main entrance are a deterrent, a declaration: those who submit live, those who defy—this is their fate."

Veratia nodded. "Using fear to control territory and using benefits to win people's hearts. This method is more difficult to deal with and has a stronger penetrating power."

The International Confederation of Wizards has convened an emergency meeting, but the situation in South America is complex, with various factions deeply entrenched. Effective intervention will require time, solid evidence, and a unified stance.

The air grew heavy, the sunset remained beautiful, Bellflower in the garden tinkled in the evening breeze.

Voldemort's ghost has never truly gone away; now it has donned a more elaborate and dangerous attire, baring its fangs in the far south.

"We need to do something," Harry said in a deep voice.

"Of course." Veratia grasped his hand. "First, strengthen our own defenses and those of key locations. Grimmauld Place's defenses need upgrading; I'll have experts from the department come under the guise of a security assessment of the Minister's residence, to avoid arousing suspicion. Second, intelligence. After Hermione joins, she can assist me in reviewing the Department of International Magical Cooperation's communications to see if there are any unusual financial flows or personnel movements. And—"

She looked at Cassandra: "Cass, does your Malfoy family, and other Pure-blood families, have traditional business ties or less-public connections in South America? I remember Lucius had some intelligence-gathering connections in North America, didn't he?"

Cassandra understood what she meant; the networks of Pure-blood families were intricate and often reached corners that official channels could not access.

"I understand. I will handle this carefully to avoid alerting them or giving the wrong impression that we are on the wrong side."

After she finished speaking, she took out her phone and sent a message to Lucius.

"Understood." Veratia nodded. "Finally, Harry, you need to remind your friends, especially those who are about to enter the Ministry of Magic or may become public figures, to be vigilant, but not to panic. We may be facing a completely different kind of war."

"So what do you plan to do?" Cassandra asked softly, "Wait for the International Confederation of Wizards to make a final ruling?"

"It's no longer necessary," Veratia smiled lightly. "Remember? I was successfully elected president of the International Confederation of Wizards in the last election. Now that Voldemort has shown his tracks and launched a retaliation against the Argentine Ministry of Magic, I have every reason to order the council to make a ruling to strike at Voldemort's influence in South America."

"President of the International Confederation of Wizards— " Cassandra nodded slightly, a hint of approval flashing in her eyes, "Indeed, this is far more efficient than waiting for countries to wrestle amongst themselves. The Confederation itself has a rapid response mechanism and authorization for joint operations to deal with major transnational magical threats, especially in the face of threats like the reappearance of the Dark Mark, which is clearly an international enemy."

"That's right." Veratia stood up, walked to the edge of the terrace, and gazed at the dark sky in the distance. "The evidence is shocking enough and directly linked to the remnants of Voldemort's forces, who have been designated as the number one enemy of the international Magical World. The Frosted Apple Incident is a blatant provocation against the entire Civilization magical world. As the Grand Master, I have the right and the responsibility to convene the Emergency Security Council and push for the authorization of an International Joint Investigation and Action Team. If necessary, we can utilize the Auror reserves of the Confederation."

Her voice was clear and firm, carrying an air of authority that brooked no dissent.

At this moment, she was no longer Harry's girlfriend leaning against him reading a briefing, nor was she his companion bickering with Cassandra; she was now the true leader wielding power in the international Magical World.

As the president, my power is unlimited!

"But that will take time," Harry said softly, walking up to her. "Call a meeting, coordinate the positions of various countries, and assemble a team—"

Voldemort won't sit idly by and wait for us to get ready.

"Of course not." Veratia turned to look at him. "Therefore, our operation must proceed in several steps, in parallel. A legitimate, open joint operation needs to be prepared; this is a necessary step to exert international pressure and also to cut off any semblance of legitimacy he might gain and potential allies. Meanwhile—"

At this point, she looked at Cassandra and Harry.

"We need more covert and rapid preliminary reconnaissance and intelligence gathering to figure out exactly how much power he has integrated, where his core strongholds are, and what his next move is. This depends on us, and the limited channels we can trust."

Cassandra glanced at her phone and said to Veratia, "Lucius just replied to me. The Malfoy family does indeed have some long-standing but increasingly less contacting partners in South America, especially in Brazil and Argentina, in the trade of Potions ingredients and some grey art."

I could try to make some tentative contacts, under the guise of restarting certain trade routes or searching for specific South America antiquarian books for the family library, through the most reliable intermediaries.

"That's enough." Veratia nodded. "What we need is a general outline and unusual movements, not a detailed battle plan. Harry, you over here—"

"I'll contact Bill tomorrow," Harry said immediately. "His work as Curses Specialist at Gringotts has given him access to information about underground magical sites, illegal trading posts, and certain key figures all over the world, especially in South America. He has a wide network and is absolutely reliable. Professor Lupin also built some cross-border information networks to combat discrimination against Werewolf. Although they may have been dormant, there might still be clues. I'll inquire carefully."

"Okay." Veratia walked back to the sofa, her fingertips lightly tracing the Leviosa reports, all the light receding. "On the official front, I will immediately activate the Chairman's emergency authority, requesting the International Auror Office and the Department of International Cooperation for the Enforcement of Magical Law to secretly compile all reports related to the South America Dark Wizard Gang, the illegal Potions trade, and recent unusual personnel and material movements. Hermione can assist with this after joining the company during her summer internship; it will be excellent training for her."

Harry felt Cassandra's hand gently grasp his wrist; he gripped it back and squeezed it lightly.

"Don't worry, Cass, we've been through this before," he shrugged. "Of course, it's possible this time will be worse than ever. After all, we've only found Voldemort's trail so far, but Runcorn is still elusive. What if he joins forces with the Goblin of America— "

"That would be a terrible situation," Cassandra sighed.

"Fortunately, Veratia is in charge of the overall situation," Harry comforted her. "Compared to last time when we were just fifth graders, this time we have a much greater advantage."

Veratia smiled, and that smile dispelled some of the somber atmosphere.

"I wouldn't say we're in overall command, but at least we don't have to rely on trial and error and take risks like we did in school. Okay—"

She clapped her hands and asked with a smile, "We've finished with the business. Dinner's almost digested. Who'd like some hot cocoa? Or maybe some dessert?"

The shift in topic was a bit abrupt, but everyone understood that maintaining tension would be pointless.

Ron rubbed his stomach and poked his head out of the guest room. Just then, he heard the word "dessert" and his eyes lit up. "Do you have pudding? I've burned so much today!"

Hermione followed behind him, shaking her head helplessly.

A short while later, the House Elf brought out the dessert as Veratia had instructed.

The sweet aroma of hot cocoa and the caramel scent of baked pudding filled the air. Ron happily held a large portion of pudding and ate it with great satisfaction. Hermione sipped her cocoa and began browsing the Parchment Veratia had received earlier.

Then her face tightened, and she spat out all the cocoa.

"What's wrong?" Ron put down the pudding and asked with concern.

Hermione remained silent, only dry heaving.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, a little flustered. "Don't scare me, Hermione, tell me—"

"Ugh—" Hermione looked up, rolled her eyes, and handed the Parchment to Ron in a flash. Then she grabbed the trash can and went to vomit.

Ron glanced at it, then, just like Hermione, rolled his eyes and spat out the pudding he had just eaten into the trash can.

"What the hell is this?!" he cried, vomiting between sobs. "Holy crap, hell on earth! What is this thing?!" "Welcome to another world," Harry said with a chuckle, handing Ron a glass of water. "Drink some water to rinse your mouth; you'll be throwing up again soon."

After the two of them finished S.P.E.W., exhausted, Harry introduced them to each other again with a smile.

"That thing is called Frosted Apple. Look, doesn't it look like an Apple covered in sugar frost?"

These words, once spoken, caused both of them to completely lose their composure. They exchanged a glance, rolled their eyes, and then vomited.

"I feel like I'll never want to eat Apple again in my life," Ron said weakly, his voice barely audible.