The familiar globe turned slowly near the Veil, carried from the room where it used to reside. Nicolas and the others couldn't leave the Veil unattended in case Marauder tried to destroy it, but they also had to coordinate with the other nations.
The globe wasn't the partially lit map it used to be. The whole world burned bright now. Greece blazed like a wound. The Yucatán shone in uneven bursts. But it didn't stop there. Lines spread outward. Africa. Asia. The Americas. Points flaring, fading, flaring again, like something underneath was touching every single ward.
Every magical nation had opened their wards to it. They didn't have a choice.
"It's spreading faster than predicted," Nicolas said.
Dumbledore stepped closer, face grim.
Around the room, Unspeakables moved between stone plinths, adjusting runic arrays. Mirrors floated in the air, each showing a different part of the world, cities, forests, coastlines. Some still calm. Some already showing the unrest.
One of the Unspeakables turned. "We've connected with the European Ministries. France, Germany, Italy. Scandinavia is patching in now."
"And outside Europe?" Dumbledore asked.
"Master Ji already handled China. India responded. Japan as well. North America is... chaotic."
Nicolas sighed. "Expected."
Cyrus Greengrass walked into the room. His expression tightened the moment he saw the globe.
"...already this bad," he said.
"This is just the beginning," Dumbledore replied.
Cyrus dragged a hand down his face. "We've begun contact with the Muggle government. The Queen and Prime Minister's been briefed. They're assembling an emergency council. Other nations are doing the same."
"You deal with them. We cannot spare time to ease their ridiculous paranoia." Nicolas said tersely.
"They're already asking if this is a magical problem," Cyrus said. "And if it is... whether it can be contained by magical means."
Perenelle waved a hand, "Answer honestly."
Cyrus looked at her. "I intend to."
He walked to another room where a computer screen was already filled with faces. It was isolated from magic for the time being to prevent them from malfunctioning. Phones rang and stopped and rang again. Papers shifted hands faster than anyone read them. A wall of monitors showed live feeds, satellite images, news broadcasts, raw footage from places that didn't look right anymore.
Leaders filled the room. Presidents, prime ministers, generals, advisers. Some still in suits, some dragged in half-dressed, ties loose, jackets missing. A few hadn't bothered with appearances at all.
"We don't have time for introductions," Cyrus said. "You've been told something is wrong. I'm here to tell you how wrong."
An American general at the far end leaned forward. "We've been told there was an... incident. Multiple incidents. We're still verifying-"
"No need," Cyrus cut in. "Imagine the worst thing you can think of. Multiply it by ten. That's the incident."
Murmurs broke out.
"What?" someone demanded.
Cyrus didn't hesitate. "This is reality. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can act."
That didn't go down well.
"This is absurd," another voice snapped. "We're dealing with geological instability, possibly weaponised-"
"It isn't," said one of the other magical ministers, loud and tired. "And if you keep framing it like that, you'll waste time we don't have."
A French minister was already shaking his head. "This doesn't track with anything we're seeing."
A general tapped a pen against the table. "Let's be clear. You're telling us this isn't natural, and it isn't technological. So what is it?"
Cyrus met his gaze. "Something older than both."
Someone laughed. "You expect us to accept that?"
Cyrus didn't blink. "I expect you to listen."
He gestured toward the screens. The feed shifted showing Greece.
"That began as a contained site," he said. "It isn't contained anymore."
Another screen, Mexico. Jungle torn open. White shapes standing in a ring, barely visible through distortion.
"What are those?" someone asked.
Cyrus didn't answer that.
"You're seeing early-stage manifestation," he said instead. "If it continues, you'll start seeing structural failure on a continental scale."
A man near the centre leaned back. "And you're saying your... people can't stop it?"
Cyrus held his gaze. "We're delaying it."
Muggle leaders grimaced at that. Voices rose.
"Then what are we supposed to do?"
"Evacuations-"
"Containment strikes-"
"Quarantine zones-"
"Define the threat!"
Cyrus raised a hand. It didn't quiet them. One of the magical ministers stepped forward from another screen, wand visible at her side.
"Do not engage," she said. "Do not send forces into those regions. Do not attempt to destroy the sites."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll make it worse."
A few people exchanged looks.
"That's convenient," someone muttered.
Cyrus's jaw tightened. "You asked what to do. That's the answer. Pull back. Secure your populations. Prepare for displacement."
"And sit on our hands?" a general shot back. "While whatever this is spreads?"
Cyrus leaned forward slightly. "Yes."
That didn't go over well at all.
"Unacceptable."
"We can't just-"
"Greece is already destabilising-"
"Mexico too-"
"And we're supposed to do what? Watch?"
Cyrus huffed. "If you strike those locations, you accelerate it."
Another voice cut in, colder. "We've trusted you before. We didn't even know something like this existed."
Cyrus didn't flinch. "Then consider this your introduction."
Someone near the head of the table said, "If this spreads beyond those regions-"
"It will," Cyrus said.
The man's lips pressed thin. "Then we'll consider all options."
Cyrus's eyes flicked to him.
The man held his gaze.
Cyrus straightened. "We'll remain in contact. You'll get updates as we have them."
He didn't wait for agreement. The magical ministers stepped back.
The room didn't stay quiet long.
The moment they vanished, voices broke out again, louder this time.
"They're hiding something."
"Of course they are."
"They're telling us to stand down while two regions collapse-"
"Greece. Mexico. That's where it started."
"Then we contain it there."
"How?"
They all looked at each other for a beat.
Then someone said, "We've got options."
Everyone knew what that meant.
The general leaned forward. "We nuke both sites. Hard. Full containment protocols. If this is some kind of... breach, we handle it."
A quieter voice, a UN advisor, cut in. "Or we trigger something we don't understand."
"Or we destroy it before it spreads."
"And if they're right?"
The general's jaw set. "Then we're already too late."
Someone muttered, "We should've dealt with their lot years ago."
No one answered.
Someone swore under his breath.
Back in the Department of Mysteries, the globe spun faster.
Dumbledore stood beside it, watching the world come alive in the worst possible way.
Nicolas didn't look at him. "They won't wait."
"No," Dumbledore said. His hand tightened slightly around his wand.
Nicolas shook his head. "We can't let them panic-fire their way out of this. Nuclear weapons will tear the planet apart and do nothing to the thing we're dealing with."
Coriolanus' jaw tightened. He glanced toward one of the floating screens, where the Muggle leaders were still arguing over grainy satellite feeds. "Are we certain?" he asked. "I'm not as well-versed in their warfare as Cassian, but I've seen enough movies to know those weapons aren't trivial."
Sabine shook her head. "Cassian already answered that. Nuclear force won't even kill a Night Crawler. They'll consume the damage and carry on. And those things are only holding the line. Whatever's underneath... it's worse."
The room fell quiet for a beat.
Dumbledore sighed slowly, eyes still on the spinning globe. "Master... shall we proceed?"
Nicolas didn't hesitate. "Contact every magical ministry still listening. We're initiating the Good Night Spell."
That landed heavier than anything else said so far.
Around the chamber, movement stopped for half a second before snapping back twice as fast. Unspeakables turned, hands already moving across runic arrays. Mirrors shifted, aligning to new channels. Messages began firing out.
Perenelle closed her eyes briefly, then stepped toward one of the central plinths. "We'll need full access to the global wardnet," she said. "No partial links. If even one region lags, the spell fractures."
"It won't fracture," Nicolas said. "It can't."
He turned to Coriolanus. "Get confirmations. I want verbal consent from every nation that can still answer."
Coriolanus didn't argue. He stepped to the nearest mirror, voice already cutting through the noise on the other side. "This is Coriolanus Rosier, sworn Keeper of the Circle, High Marshal of the War Conclave, speaking under sovereign mandate.
"By my authority, all standing protocols are suspended." His gaze hardened, sweeping across the reflections. "Initiate immediate confirmation of readiness for global ward integration. I want full synchronization across every nexus, every ley anchor, every protected boundary."
Faces flickered into varying emotions. Some pale. Some furious. Some already understanding what was coming.
A woman from the Scandinavian council leaned forward. "You're invoking it now?"
"Yes."
She didn't hesitate. "We're ready."
Another voice cut in from the east. "India is aligned. Ward anchors are standing by."
"China confirms."
"Japan ready."
Europe followed in staggered bursts. France. Germany. Italy. Britain already moving.
Across the room, one of the Unspeakables turned, voice tight. "North America's fragmented. Some regions are on board, others are still... debating."
Nicolas didn't even look at him. "They don't get a vote anymore. Tie them in through the network."
"That's not protocol-"
"It is now."
The Unspeakable swallowed and nodded, turning back to his station.
An Unspeakable looked at Nicolas. "Once we start this, there's no clean way back. You'll be putting billions to sleep. Moving them without consent. Entire populations."
Nicolas didn't answer. He just looked at the mirrors.
Dumbledore rested a hand lightly against the edge of the globe. "How long do we have once it begins?"
One of the mirrors flickered, then went dark entirely.
"Minutes," Perenelle said. "Maybe less in the unstable zones."
"Then we don't delay."
Nicolas straightened. "All channels, listen carefully. When the spell begins, you anchor your regions and hold them. No improvisation. If your line fails, people die."
No one argued.
Mirrors brightened. Runes flared to life across every surface. The air shimmered with layered magic, old and vast, something built long before any of them had been born and something new added very recently.
Dumbledore lifted his wand. Around the world, others did the same. Nicolas spoke the first word.
The globe hummed.
And far beyond the Department of Mysteries, the world began to fall asleep.
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