The night sky over Birmingham, England, stretched vast and unbroken. As the second-largest city in the UK, Birmingham pulsed with life, its millions of residents contributing to the bright lights and bustling streets. From the shimmering reflections on the canal waters to the twinkling cityscape, it exuded a vibrancy that rivaled London's.
Above, the full moon cast its soft glow over the city, and the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds. It was a picturesque scene, almost serene in its beauty.
Standing by a tranquil lake on the city's outskirts, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, looked up at the heavens with an inexplicable smile. His expression radiated satisfaction, as though he were privy to a vision that others could not see.
Not far behind him, Dolores Umbridge watched her superior closely. Her thoughts, however, were far less charitable.
What's he so pleased about? she thought irritably. It's just Birmingham—a Muggle city, nothing special. Unless there's some hidden magical ruin here, I don't see the cause for his excitement.
Despite her internal grumbling, Umbridge wore her trademark sycophantic smile, a façade honed to perfection over years of navigating Ministry politics. She had long since mastered the art of flattery, and her current expression suggested she was basking in the glow of Fudge's achievements.
After all, her career was built on such performances. It wasn't mere loyalty or blind obedience that had propelled her rise from a Ministry clerk to a high-ranking official. No, Umbridge excelled at reading people, manipulating them, and ensuring her competitors either bowed out gracefully or left in fury.
Still, she couldn't suppress a flicker of irritation as she observed Fudge. If only I knew what he was up to…
Her musings were interrupted by an extraordinary sight.
Before her very eyes, a glowing seed of faint blue light floated upward from Fudge's hand. The tiny, radiant orb drifted over the lake, casting ripples of luminous blue across the water's surface.
As the seed ascended higher, its glow intensified, bathing the entire area in an otherworldly light.
A soft breeze swept across the lake, rustling the nearby trees. Umbridge instinctively wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, but then something else struck her—a pressure, vast and oppressive, like an unseen force pressing down on her chest.
Her breath hitched, and her rosy complexion drained to a ghostly pale.
She turned her wide eyes to Fudge, disbelief etched on her face. The man she had known for years—a politician, a manipulator, a man of middling magical ability—now radiated a spiritual force so immense, so profound, that it defied comprehension.
This… This can't be real, she thought, her mind racing. Not even Dumbledore possesses such power. How could someone like Fudge…?
But the overwhelming energy emanating from Fudge was undeniable. It wasn't just powerful—it was vast, like an ocean crashing against the limits of her mind. And yet, strangely, she detected a fragility within it, a delicate instability that made the sheer scale of the force even more disconcerting.
Her instincts screamed at her to flee, but her feet remained rooted to the ground.
Above the lake, the blue light coalesced, forming a swirling phantom image. Shapes began to emerge within the glow—rolling grasslands, dense forests, bustling cities, and shadowy figures of moving creatures.
The vision shifted and twisted, each detail morphing into another. The phantom was not yet stable, but its magnificence was undeniable.
Fudge stood before the spectacle, his wand tracing intricate patterns in the air. His movements were fluid and precise, and with each motion, the phantom's transformations grew more pronounced.
The immense spiritual energy in the air gathered above him, feeding into the phantom and causing it to expand.
From her position, Umbridge could only stare in awe. The radiant phantom, initially a simple blue, began to glow with other hues. Pure white radiated holiness, golden yellow dazzled like sunlight, dark green exuded vitality, and deep black pulsed with an eerie, deathly aura.
Something deep inside Umbridge stirred—a primal, overwhelming desire. Greed flashed in her eyes as she gazed at the vibrant, shifting phantom. She couldn't explain it, but she wanted it. She needed it.
If I had that… I could have everything. Power, respect, control… everything.
Meanwhile, Fudge was completely absorbed in his task. His breathing quickened, his eyes alight with fervor as he watched the dream world take shape. Each motion of his wand drew him closer to his goal, the phantom expanding and solidifying with every passing moment.
He felt a surge of strength course through him, a sense of invincibility unlike anything he had ever experienced.
This… This is the power of the dream world, he thought, his excitement mounting. Even in its nascent state, it's extraordinary. With this, I can accomplish anything.
Though Carter had advised him to focus on creating a small, bright, and stable dream world for his first attempt, Fudge found himself craving more. He wanted to pour every ounce of his newfound spiritual power into it, to expand it beyond its initial parameters.
But he held himself back. Carter's teachings were clear—overreaching could destabilize the entire process. Reluctantly, he began to rein in the phantom's growth, carefully adjusting its proportions and consolidating its energy.
Step by step, he refined the dream world, ensuring it was both powerful and sustainable.
As Fudge moved closer to the center of the phantom, his figure began to blur in Umbridge's eyes. The pressure in the air grew even more intense, pressing down on her like an invisible weight.
Her instincts screamed at her again, warning her of the sheer danger radiating from Fudge. Yet, she couldn't tear her eyes away.
With each adjustment, the phantom grew more refined. Its swirling shapes stabilized, the colors blending into a cohesive, mesmerizing whole. Fudge's concentration was absolute, his mind fully immersed in the task.
As the dream world's power anchored itself to him, Fudge felt a profound transformation. Strength filled every fiber of his being, a confidence so absolute that he almost laughed aloud.
With this… I could defeat a dozen of my former selves. No—more than that.
The dream world wasn't just a tool—it was a source of endless potential, a realm that magnified his abilities beyond anything he'd ever imagined.
Fudge smiled to himself, his thoughts racing. Even a micro dream world holds this much power. What would a fully developed one be capable of?
For now, though, he focused on perfecting the miniature version. It was his creation, his alone, and he would see it through without relying on anyone else.
Here's your text proofread and edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, readability, and flow while keeping the storyline and context intact. The word count has been increased slightly by adding descriptive details for better readability and immersion.
The miniature dream world, newly formed, was quietly undergoing internal changes. Towers emerged one after another, each unique in appearance and hue. Some had a primitive design, others gleamed as though crafted from bronze metal, and a few were entwined with vibrant green plants. Their heights varied greatly, yet they shared a common characteristic: the closer a tower stood to the dream world's core, the taller it rose.
At the very center of this dream world stood an immense tower, its height dwarfing all others. It was the most conspicuous and imposing structure, symbolizing Fudge's unbridled ambition. He yearned to stand above everyone else, to see farther than any other, and to look down on the world with an air of supremacy. He envisioned others unwaveringly defending his reign, perpetuating his dominance.
In a secluded corner of this surreal realm, unnoticed by both Fudge and Umbridge, two pairs of eyes observed the unfolding scene with quiet intensity. These eyes belonged to Principal Lockhart and Vice Principal Peggy Carter of Kamar-Taj.
"Lockhart, are you sure the dream world's overflow won't lead to unforeseen problems?" Carter asked, her sharp gaze fixed on Fudge, whose demeanor had shifted dramatically. His newfound confidence radiated from him, and even his facial expressions hinted at burgeoning ambitions.
Carter sighed inwardly. She had seen this pattern countless times. In any world, the stronger someone became, the more insatiable their hunger for power grew. And while Carter could handle a few individuals, even exceptionally powerful ones, the notion of empowering the entire wizarding world was a far more perilous endeavor.
If things proceeded as Lockhart envisioned—if the dream world truly spread to encompass all—then the wizarding world's collective power would surge exponentially. This escalation could disrupt the delicate balance of their reality.
Lockhart, sensing her unease, responded with a calm smile. "Carter, trust me," he said, his tone reassuring. "Every new order emerges from the sacrifice of the old. Chaos is an integral part of establishing order."
He paused deliberately, as if to choose his words carefully. "The dream world will be the catalyst for change in the wizarding world," he continued, his voice measured. "And, more importantly, it will secure the wizards' position in the new reality. Never forget, we are agents of progress."
In the Ministry of Magic's Office for International Magical Exchange and Cooperation, Barty Crouch Sr. reclined in his chair, eyes half-closed in a rare moment of respite. Though he initially struggled to adjust to his current life, he had little choice. Mistakes had consequences, and he had paid dearly for his missteps. Yet, deep down, a shadow of regret lingered. He had been so close to becoming the Minister of Magic—just one step away.
What a pity.
Shaking off the unwelcome thoughts, he focused on maintaining his composure. But his reprieve was short-lived.
A sudden whoosh of green light erupted from the magical fireplace, and two figures materialized before him. Startled, Crouch sat up straight, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the unexpected visitors. One was a tall wizard, clad in a black robe with blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and an array of magical trinkets adorning his neck and wrists. The other was a goblin, dressed in a tight black suit and clutching a staff. The sight of the goblin leading the wizard was enough to alarm Crouch, his mind racing with possibilities.
The magical fireplace in his office was designed to connect with international floo networks, reserved for emergencies or critical communications. The presence of these two could only mean one thing: the news they bore was of the utmost importance.
The wizard, Narm, wasted no time. "Director Crouch, there's trouble—serious trouble," he said, his voice tinged with panic. "Grindelwald has invaded. The Magical Congress of the United States is on the brink of collapse."
Crouch's heart skipped a beat. He had heard whispers of Grindelwald's return but hadn't anticipated such rapid developments. He steeled himself as Narm continued, his tone almost pleading.
"We need to speak with Minister Fudge immediately. Grindelwald's forces are overwhelming, and the Congress can't hold out much longer. Could Dumbledore intervene? He defeated Grindelwald before—surely he could do it again?"
Throughout Narm's desperate entreaty, the goblin beside him remained stoic, watching the scene with detached interest. Crouch recognized the calculated indifference; goblins thrived on the disarray of wizards. To them, internal conflicts among humans were a chance to seize opportunities, so long as the chaos didn't extend to their own kind.
Gathering himself, Crouch spoke, his tone measured but firm. "I understand the gravity of the situation," he said. "But before we act, we need a clearer picture of the current circumstances. Narm, tell me—what is happening in the American wizarding world? What exactly has Grindelwald achieved so far?"
The goblin, Katu, stepped forward before Narm could respond. "The Dark Lord Grindelwald has taken Ilvermorny and enslaved its students," he reported. "The Magical Congress narrowly repelled an attack on their headquarters, but their Speaker was gravely injured in the battle. Vice President Chenos is now overseeing matters."
As Katu recounted the dire state of affairs, Narm interjected occasionally, adding details that painted an increasingly grim picture. Crouch's expression darkened with each revelation. Though no stranger to conflict, the scale of Grindelwald's resurgence was staggering.
When Katu mentioned that wizards and goblins had formed an alliance to resist Grindelwald, Crouch's sharp eyes immediately caught an inconsistency. Goblins rarely fought alongside wizards unless there was a hidden agenda. He would need to tread carefully—this was no ordinary alliance.
==============================================
Support me at p@treon.com/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
=============================================