The atrium of the Magical Congress had already been a model of Wizarding World architecture, but now it had been decorated with even greater solemnity.
Soft simulated daylight poured down from the lofty dome. The magical fountain at the center shifted the shape and color of its waters in time with the Forest Fairy Orchestra's performance, while ethereal, beautiful music echoed through the space.
On this day, guests gathered in droves.
Wizarding representatives from various countries in splendid ceremonial robes, prominent figures of the American Wizarding World, and witches and wizards of the Wizengamot chatted quietly, all wearing relaxed smiles.
The Congress staff in dark robes were dressed far more formally than usual as well. Some had nearly every inch of their chests covered in medals, their expressions solemn as they stood in small groups.
The reporters' cameras had long since been set up, with Streaming Mirrors and Magic Cameras all glimmering faintly.
The British delegation had naturally already arrived. Minister of Magic Scrimgeour had attended the ceremony in person, wearing a mild and amiable smile. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood silently behind and to one side of him like an iron tower, his sharp gaze sweeping over the entire hall.
Lucius Malfoy's face was even paler than usual, his expression particularly cold. Narcissa held his arm, and the couple both maintained an aloof, haughty bearing.
At the sight, some pure-blood wizards who had wanted to greet them hesitated and stopped, turning instead toward other groups.
Amelia Bones, who had once run for Minister, was speaking quietly with Rufus Scrimgeour. As fellow losers, the atmosphere between them appeared remarkably cordial.
"Over seventy percent approval? After Hawthorne became a wanted criminal, Madam Piquery, his assistant, wasn't suspected in the slightest, and she still managed to gain such overwhelming support so quickly?"
Bones said