Hadrian Peverel: The Lord Of Haven

Chapter 11

November 1976 – Three Days After the Diplomatic Meeting

The news spread faster than anyone had anticipated.

Hadrian had expected whispers. He had expected careful discussions behind closed doors, quiet maneuvering as the Ministry and the foreign governments decided how to react.

But the world had already decided for them.

Word of Haven had reached beyond the officials who had stepped through its gates. The merchants who had set up shop, the craftsmen who had begun selling their wares, the scholars who had seen the opportunity—they had carried the truth back with them.

This was not a rogue faction. Not a rebellion.

This was a city.

And for the first time in modern wizarding history, a magical city existed that was not under Ministry control.

Hadrian sat in the great hall, his fingers tapping lightly against the polished black stone of the long council table. A parchment lay in front of him—a direct statement from the Ministry.

Unofficial, of course. The Ministry would not acknowledge Haven formally, not yet. But they had made their position clear.

They considered Haven a disturbance. A threat to stability.

They had not declared war.

But they had made it clear that Haven would be treated as an anomaly that must be dealt with.

Matthias stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed, reading the letter over Hadrian's shoulder. "They're trying to intimidate you."

Hadrian smirked. "Let them try."

Jonas leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out lazily. "What's our next move?"

Hadrian exhaled, glancing toward the window that overlooked the city. Even now, more people were arriving—wandering souls looking for a place outside the constraints of a broken world.

"We expand," he said simply. "We build faster."

Catherine, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "And when the Ministry moves against us?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed.

"Then we remind them that Haven was never theirs to control."

The pieces were moving.

And Hadrian was already steps ahead.

The world was reacting.

Hadrian sat at the head of the long obsidian table in the great hall's council chamber, fingers resting lightly against the polished stone. The Ministry had not yet made a formal move, but the pressure was building.

Reports had come in throughout the day. More wizards and magical beings were arriving at Haven's gates—some seeking sanctuary, others seeking opportunity. At the same time, Ministry officials had been spotted lingering near the outer wards, watching, waiting.

Matthias stood at the far end of the room, his arms crossed. "We need to move before they do."

Catherine, seated to Hadrian's right, nodded in agreement. "If we allow them time to adjust, they'll find a way to undermine us. We should solidify Haven's independent status before they try to strip it from us."

Jonas smirked from his place near the wall. "I assume that means making more friends."

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "It means forcing their hand."

Catherine tapped the parchment in front of her. "We have interest from neutral parties—trading guilds, independent enchanters, even a few goblin clans. If we establish formal trade agreements with them, the Ministry can't afford to isolate us without losing access to resources they rely on."

Hadrian exhaled softly, considering. "Then we extend invitations. Secure those alliances before the Ministry realizes how much influence they're about to lose."

Matthias gave a sharp nod. "And if the Ministry escalates?"

Hadrian's smirk was slow, deliberate.

"Then we remind them that Haven is not something they can control."

Jonas chuckled. "You make that sound like a threat."

Hadrian leaned back in his chair. "Only if they refuse to listen."

The city outside hummed with life, with movement. Haven was no longer a whispered rumor.

It was a reality.

And soon, the wizarding world would have no choice but to acknowledge it.

The air in the council chamber was charged, the weight of unspoken decisions hanging between them.

Matthias ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I'll start securing the trade deals. The goblins will demand ironclad terms—they won't commit unless they see long-term profit."

Hadrian nodded. "Give them what they need. As long as they recognize Haven as sovereign, the finer details can be negotiated later."

Jonas stretched lazily, tilting his chair back on two legs. "And what about the Order? Dumbledore hasn't made a move, but you know he's watching."

Catherine tapped her quill against the parchment. "The Order won't act unless they believe we're a danger. But they're divided. Some of them already see Haven as a necessary force."

Hadrian smirked. "Then we make sure the divide grows."

Matthias arched a brow. "Meaning?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "Meaning we let them see exactly what Haven is capable of. No hiding, no secrecy. We let them watch as we build something greater than the Ministry ever could."

Jonas chuckled. "You really do enjoy this."

Hadrian exhaled, standing smoothly. "I enjoy watching them realize they were never in control to begin with."

Catherine rolled up the parchment. "I'll send word to our contacts. If we solidify these alliances before the Ministry acts, they'll be forced to negotiate instead of attack."

Hadrian nodded, satisfied. "Good."

Matthias pushed off the wall. "And if they come with force instead of words?"

Hadrian's smirk was sharp. Certain.

"Then we show them why Haven was built to last."

The decisions were made. The pieces were moving.

The world was about to change.

The following morning, the first of Haven's official trade envoys departed.

The gates opened at dawn, revealing a small but formidable procession—a mix of wizards, goblins, and independent traders, all carrying sealed agreements meant for neutral factions across the wizarding world. Their task was simple: secure alliances before the Ministry could tighten its grip.

Hadrian watched from the high balcony of the great hall, the cool morning air carrying the quiet murmur of activity below. The city was awake—merchants setting up stalls, craftsmen opening their workshops, the early patrols of Haven's security forces moving through the streets.

Haven was not just surviving.

It was thriving.

Catherine stepped onto the balcony beside him, her sharp gaze following the envoys as they disappeared beyond the outer wards. "If even half of them succeed, we'll have enough independent alliances to make the Ministry hesitate."

Hadrian smirked. "And when they hesitate, we push forward."

Matthias approached next, arms crossed. "They won't hesitate forever. The moment they realize they're losing control, they'll act."

Hadrian nodded. "Then we make sure that by the time they do, it's already too late."

Jonas leaned against the railing, watching the streets below. "There are already whispers in Knockturn Alley. Some say Haven is the future. Others say it's a challenge to the world order." He grinned. "Personally, I like the second one."

Hadrian chuckled. "Both are true."

Catherine exhaled. "And what about Dumbledore?"

Hadrian's green eyes flickered. "He's waiting. Watching. But he won't act until he's sure what I am."

Matthias raised a brow. "And when he decides?"

Hadrian's smirk was slow, deliberate.

"Then he'll realize he never had a choice to begin with."

The morning sun climbed higher over Haven, its golden light casting long shadows against the smooth stone streets.

The game was no longer about survival.

It was about control.

And Hadrian intended to win.

By midday, the first official responses arrived.

Catherine stood in the council chamber, scanning through the latest messages, her sharp eyes flicking over the parchment with precision. The room was quiet except for the faint scratching of her quill as she recorded key points.

Hadrian entered, his cloak sweeping behind him. "News?"

Catherine handed him the first sealed letter. "France responded quickly. They're interested. They won't publicly acknowledge Haven yet, but they're open to trade agreements—especially if we offer innovations that their Ministry doesn't have access to."

Hadrian smirked. "Good. And the goblins?"

Catherine exhaled. "They'll agree to formal banking operations—on one condition." She set another parchment on the table. "They want a permanent seat in Haven's governance. A protected council, free from wizarding interference."

Jonas, lounging in a nearby chair, chuckled. "Smart. They're securing their future before anyone else can."

Hadrian tapped his fingers against the parchment, thoughtful. "Accept it. But make it clear—Haven does not answer to Gringotts. The goblins will have their independence, but this city is still mine."

Catherine nodded, already drafting the response.

Matthias entered next, his expression unreadable. "The Ministry sent their own message."

Hadrian took the parchment, unfolding it slowly.

The letter was polite. Formal. Carefully worded to avoid direct hostility.

But the meaning was clear.

Cease expansion. Disband Haven's military forces. Submit to Ministry oversight—or face consequences.

Hadrian's smirk was cold. "So they finally stopped pretending."

Matthias scoffed. "They're testing you. Seeing if you'll back down."

Jonas leaned back. "So, what's the response?"

Hadrian exhaled, setting the letter aside. "Simple."

He met their gazes, green eyes gleaming.

"No."

The room was silent.

Then Catherine smirked, folding the Ministry's letter in half before setting it aside. "I'll make the rejection formal."

Matthias nodded. "And when they escalate?"

Hadrian's smirk deepened.

"Then we show them that Haven was never theirs to control."

The Ministry had made its move.

Now, it was Hadrian's turn.

By nightfall, Haven was preparing.

The Ministry's thinly veiled threat had been expected. Planned for. Accounted for. But it was no longer a matter of if they would act—only when.

Hadrian stood in the training courtyard, watching as the Peverell Guard ran through their drills. The open-air arena, carved from black stone, was illuminated by floating lanterns, their golden light flickering across the polished floor.

The recruits moved with precision, discipline. This was not a gathering of thugs or desperate men clinging to power. This was an elite force, forged in purpose.

Matthias approached from the entrance, arms crossed. "You should address them."

Hadrian glanced at him. "They don't need speeches."

Matthias tilted his head. "They need to know what comes next."

Hadrian considered that for a moment, then stepped forward. The courtyard fell silent.

All eyes turned to him.

"You all know what's coming," Hadrian said, his voice carrying through the space. "The Ministry believes Haven is something that can be contained. That with enough pressure, we will fold."

His green eyes gleamed. "They are wrong."

A ripple of quiet intensity moved through the gathered guards.

"They have ruled unchallenged for too long. They believe their control is absolute. They have mistaken authority for power." He let the words settle. "We are here to remind them of the difference."

A low murmur of approval spread through the ranks.

Hadrian's smirk was cold, deliberate. "We will not strike first. But when they come—and they will come—Haven will not break."

He turned to Matthias. "Increase patrol rotations. The outer wards need to be reinforced before dawn."

Matthias nodded. "Understood."

Jonas, who had been watching with an amused expression, clapped a hand over his heart. "Very inspiring. Almost makes me want to wear a uniform."

Hadrian smirked. "You wouldn't last a day."

Jonas chuckled. "Probably not."

Catherine appeared at the courtyard's edge. "We've intercepted Ministry communications." Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp. "They're mobilizing Aurors."

Matthias exhaled. "It's starting."

Hadrian rolled his shoulders, exhaling softly. It had always been leading to this.

"Let them come," he murmured.

Haven was ready.

The night was still, but Haven was not.

As the first true confrontation with the Ministry loomed, the city moved with silent efficiency. Orders were given. Defenses were reinforced. The Peverell Guard shifted into higher readiness, their presence weaving through the streets like unseen sentinels.

Hadrian stood in the great hall, his fingers resting lightly against the map of Haven spread across the council table. Thin silver runes flickered across its surface—a living projection of the city's wards, defenses, and active patrol routes.

Catherine stood beside him, scanning the parchment in her hands. "Ministry forces are gathering at their outposts. They haven't deployed yet, but it's only a matter of time."

Hadrian's green eyes flickered toward her. "Numbers?"

"Sixty Aurors confirmed," she said. "Likely more in reserve. Standard deployment formations—they're preparing for containment, not outright war."

Matthias, leaning against the opposite side of the table, exhaled. "They think they can pressure us into surrender."

Jonas smirked from where he lounged in one of the chairs. "They still believe this is a negotiation."

Hadrian chuckled. "They'll learn soon enough."

His fingers traced the outer boundary of the map. "We control the battlefield. They have no foothold here. No allies. No advantage." He glanced at Matthias. "Double the outer perimeter patrols. Anyone approaching without clearance is to be turned away—forcefully, if necessary."

Matthias nodded. "Done."

Catherine set her parchment down. "If they attempt an incursion, what's the response?"

Hadrian's smirk was slow, deliberate.

"Minimal force," he said. "For now." His green eyes gleamed. "I want them to understand that we are not enemies. But I also want them to understand—Haven does not kneel."

Jonas stretched lazily. "And if they don't take the warning?"

Hadrian turned away from the map, heading toward the balcony overlooking the city. Below, the streets glowed with quiet life—lanterns flickering against the smooth stone, warding scripts pulsing along the rooftops.

"If they don't listen," he murmured, watching the wind stir through the banners of Haven, "then we show them exactly why they should have."

The Ministry was coming.

And when they did, they would find that Haven was not a city that could be controlled.

Dawn broke over Haven in cool, muted golds, casting long shadows over the rooftops. The city was awake—not with the usual hum of trade and quiet movement, but with something sharper, something waiting.

At the edge of the outer perimeter, the first signs of the Ministry's presence had appeared.

Hadrian stood on the high balcony of the great hall, watching the distant figures beyond the wards. They had not crossed the boundary. Not yet. But their intent was clear.

Matthias stood at his side, arms crossed. "Scouts report three separate Ministry detachments, all stationed at different approach points. No sign of an official envoy."

Hadrian smirked. "So they want to see how we react."

Jonas leaned against the railing, casually observing the distant Aurors. "Do we roll out the welcome mat, or do we make them regret getting out of bed this morning?"

Catherine arrived then, a fresh report in hand. "They're testing us, but they're also watching." She met Hadrian's gaze. "Dumbledore's people are among them."

Matthias exhaled sharply. "The Order?"

Catherine nodded. "Not all of them. A few, positioned just behind the Ministry forces. They aren't interfering—yet."

Hadrian chuckled. "Of course not. Dumbledore wants to see whether we hold our ground or escalate."

Jonas grinned. "Shall we give him a show?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "Not yet."

He stepped away from the balcony, turning toward Matthias. "Send out a single representative. No guards. No weapons drawn. Make it clear that we are not afraid."

Matthias nodded. "And if they demand concessions?"

Hadrian's smirk was cold, sharp. "We remind them that Haven is not theirs to dictate."

Jonas sighed dramatically. "No immediate explosions, then. A shame."

Catherine shot him a dry look. "Control yourself."

Jonas grinned. "Never."

Hadrian turned back toward the city. Below, the people of Haven moved with purpose, not panic. They knew.

This was the moment where Haven would prove itself.

Not in war.

But in the refusal to be anything less than sovereign.

Let the Ministry come.

Let Dumbledore watch.

Hadrian would not yield.

The gates of Haven stood silent, immovable.

Beyond the outer perimeter, the Ministry's forces remained in formation—watching, waiting. The Aurors were not in full battle stance, but their wands were visible, their presence unmistakable. This was not a friendly visit.

From the high balcony, Hadrian observed the scene below as Matthias stepped forward, moving toward the outer boundary alone. No guards. No visible defenses.

A calculated message.

Matthias stopped just beyond the threshold, his posture relaxed but firm. He glanced between the three Aurors leading the detachment, their deep navy robes shifting in the wind.

"You've come a long way for something that isn't yours," he said smoothly.

The lead Auror, a tall man with silver-streaked hair, studied Matthias with sharp grey eyes. "Haven's presence is a concern to the Ministry."

Matthias smirked. "That sounds like a personal problem."

The Auror's jaw tightened. "We're here under orders from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He withdrew a sealed document from his robes, holding it out. "This is an official Ministry directive. Lord Peverell is required to present himself for an evaluation of Haven's legitimacy under British Wizarding Law."

Matthias didn't move to take it. "We don't answer to the Ministry."

The Auror's gaze darkened. "This city falls under British jurisdiction."

Matthias raised a brow. "Does it?"

Silence stretched between them.

From the balcony, Hadrian watched, his smirk barely visible. The Ministry was doing exactly as he expected. They did not attack. They pressured.

A mistake.

The Auror exhaled through his nose. "We are offering Peverell a chance to prove his intentions. To cooperate with the government."

Matthias chuckled. "And if he refuses?"

The Auror's fingers tightened around the parchment. "Then the Ministry will be forced to re-evaluate Haven's existence."

Matthias tilted his head. "You mean you'll come back with more wands."

The Auror's expression remained carefully neutral. "The Ministry does not tolerate unauthorized magical settlements—especially ones with military forces of their own."

Matthias' smirk didn't waver. "Then I hope you brought something stronger than parchment."

A flicker of frustration passed through the Auror's eyes.

From above, Hadrian finally moved.

He stepped forward onto the balcony, his presence cutting through the space below. The moment the Aurors caught sight of him, the mood shifted.

Recognition. Wariness.

Hadrian leaned against the railing, his voice calm, but absolute.

"Haven is not under your jurisdiction," he said smoothly. "Your laws hold no weight here."

The Aurors straightened, clearly unsettled by how little concern he showed.

Hadrian's smirk deepened. "Now, if you're done wasting my time—leave."

Silence.

Then the lead Auror exhaled sharply. He didn't argue. Didn't issue threats.

He simply gave a short nod, turned, and motioned for his forces to fall back.

Hadrian watched as the Ministry forces vanished into the distance.

Jonas whistled lowly from behind him. "That was almost too easy."

Catherine's gaze remained sharp. "They'll be back."

Hadrian smiled, slow and certain.

"Yes," he murmured. "And next time, they won't come with words."

The first battle had been won without a single spell cast.

But the war?

That was only beginning.

Night fell over Haven, but the city did not sleep.

The Ministry had tested the waters and failed. Their retreat did not mean surrender—it meant they were recalculating. Planning.

Hadrian had no intention of waiting for them to decide on their next move.

In the great hall, the inner council gathered. The room was dimly lit, the glow of enchanted lanterns flickering against the smooth black stone of the long table.

Matthias leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "They'll come back with more than words next time."

Catherine tapped her quill against the parchment in front of her. "We have to assume their next approach will be economic sanctions or direct intervention."

Jonas smirked. "Let them try. The goblins aren't about to let their investments fall apart over Ministry tantrums."

Hadrian exhaled, fingers tapping idly against the table. "The goblins will hold, but others will hesitate. We need to move before the Ministry forces the neutral parties into choosing a side."

Matthias frowned. "How?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "We give them something they can't afford to refuse."

Catherine glanced up. "New trade agreements?"

Hadrian smirked. "New weapons."

Silence stretched through the chamber.

Jonas grinned. "Now you're speaking my language."

Hadrian leaned forward, his voice smooth, deliberate. "The Ministry relies on Aurors for control. But Aurors rely on outdated magic, predictable tactics, and bureaucratic limitations. We don't have those limitations. We don't have those weaknesses."

Catherine's quill hovered over the parchment. "You want to introduce a new form of magical warfare."

Hadrian's smirk deepened. "I want to make sure that the moment the Ministry dares to step onto Haven's land again, they regret it instantly."

Matthias exhaled through his nose. "What do you need?"

Hadrian stood, the lantern light casting long shadows behind him.

"Everything."

The Ministry had made their move.

Now, it was Hadrian's turn.

The next morning, Haven shifted.

The merchants and scholars continued their daily routines, but beneath the surface, the city was preparing. The outer patrols doubled, the watchmen rotated more frequently, and in the training courtyards, the Peverell Guard drilled with new intensity.

Hadrian walked through the lower levels of the great hall, where the true foundation of Haven's power was taking shape. The corridors here were carved directly into the rock, lined with embedded runes that pulsed faintly with contained magic.

Jonas strolled beside him, hands tucked into his coat pockets. "So, what exactly are we making?"

Hadrian smirked. "Something the world hasn't seen before."

They stepped through an iron-bound archway, leading into a cavernous chamber. Workbenches lined the walls, covered in half-assembled constructs—wards woven into physical form, spell cores suspended in enchanted glass, enchanted weapons that pulsed with raw potential.

A young artificer, a sharp-eyed woman with short-cropped hair, looked up from her workstation as they entered. "Lord Peverell," she greeted. "We've made progress on the infusion stabilization."

Hadrian approached, his gaze flickering over the prototype—a small, metallic sphere, its surface inscribed with runic scripts. It hovered faintly above the workbench, magic curling around it like mist.

Jonas raised a brow. "What does it do?"

The artificer smirked. "Throw it, and you'll find out."

Jonas picked it up, weighing it in his palm. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed it toward the far end of the chamber.

The moment it struck the ground, the runes ignited.

A silent pulse rippled outward, distorting the air around it. The lanterns flickered, and for a split second, every ward in the room fluctuated.

Jonas let out a low whistle. "Well, that's terrifying."

Hadrian's smirk deepened. "A null-field generator. Temporary, but enough to disable standard Ministry protections." He turned to the artificer. "How long until we can produce these in quantity?"

"Two weeks," she said. "Less, if we divert more resources."

Hadrian nodded. "Do it."

Jonas grinned. "And here I thought we were just going to build a better shield. But no—you want to make sure the Ministry has no shields at all."

Hadrian chuckled. "Defense is important. But victory?" His green eyes gleamed. "Victory is better."

Haven was not just preparing for war.

It was making sure the Ministry never saw it coming.

The lower chambers of Haven hummed with activity.

Hadrian moved through the underground corridors, his cloak trailing behind him, the air thick with raw magic as the artificers and enchanters worked in near silence—focused, precise. The faint glow of spell cores cast shifting shadows against the stone walls, illuminating the countless projects now in motion.

This was what set Haven apart. Innovation. Adaptation. The ability to create magic that had never been seen before.

Jonas trailed beside him, watching with open amusement as two artificers carefully etched runes into a curved obsidian blade. The symbols pulsed for a moment before sinking into the metal, disappearing from sight.

Jonas tilted his head. "That's new."

The enchanter didn't look up. "It only activates in combat. The runes keep the blade weightless until it makes contact, then return it to full density on impact."

Jonas whistled. "Brutal."

Hadrian smirked. "Efficient."

Matthias appeared at the archway, arms crossed. "We've confirmed something."

Hadrian raised a brow.

Matthias exhaled, stepping forward. "The Ministry's already trying to pressure our trading partners. Nothing overt—yet. But they're moving."

Hadrian hummed, glancing toward Catherine as she approached with a fresh report.

She placed it on the nearby workbench. "France remains cautious, but they're still interested in trade. Germany is undecided. The goblins are holding firm, but MACUSA—" She paused.

Jonas raised a brow. "What about them?"

Catherine's lips pressed into a thin line. "MACUSA sent a message. Unofficial, but clear. If Haven is seen as a destabilizing force, they will side with the British Ministry."

Silence stretched between them.

Jonas exhaled. "Well, that's unfortunate."

Matthias frowned. "It was expected."

Hadrian tapped his fingers against the table, thoughtful. "Expected, but not without solutions."

He turned, scanning the **room full of innovations—**weapons, defenses, technology that no wizarding government had ever imagined.

Then, slowly, he smirked.

"They fear what they don't understand," he murmured. "Then let's make sure they understand."

Catherine tilted her head. "Meaning?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed.

"We send them a demonstration."

The decision was made.

By nightfall, Haven's corridors were alive with movement—quiet, precise, deliberate. Hadrian did not need to issue further commands. His people understood.

They weren't preparing for war.

They were proving that war would be unwinnable against them.

In the underground chamber, the artificers worked at a controlled but urgent pace. Spell cores were sealed into enchanted casing, runes were embedded into reinforced structures, and experimental magic was tested under the watchful eyes of Haven's finest enchanters.

Catherine stood at the center table, finalizing the plan. "What's the target?"

Matthias exhaled, studying the map spread before them. "It has to be neutral ground. A place where it can't be mistaken as an act of aggression."

Jonas smirked. "Somewhere public. Somewhere the Ministry and MACUSA can't ignore."

Hadrian tapped a single point on the map.

Catherine's eyes flickered with recognition. "The International Enchanters' Summit."

Jonas whistled lowly. "Bold. I like it."

Hadrian smirked. "The most influential magical minds will be gathered in one place. If we prove what Haven is capable of in front of them, we won't need to convince anyone of our strength."

Matthias folded his arms. "That's also where the highest concentration of security will be."

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "Then let's make sure they know **

The night before the Enchanters' Summit, Haven moved with quiet precision.

Hadrian stood in the lower war chambers, watching as the final components of the demonstration were prepared. The air shimmered with latent magic, the runes carved into the obsidian workbenches pulsing softly.

Jonas leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. "Remind me again what exactly we're showing them?"

Catherine, adjusting the final details on a sealed parchment containing the schematics, didn't look up. "Enough to make them question everything they thought they knew."

Matthias stepped forward, picking up one of the prepared constructs—a small, polished stone with intricate silver inlays. "Run me through it."

Hadrian smirked. "It's a controlled arcane burst. Harmless, but designed to disrupt and override any existing enchantments within a set radius. Temporary, but absolute."

Jonas raised a brow. "So, an anti-magic field?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "A demonstration that their protections are outdated."

Matthias rolled the device between his fingers. "And we're testing this in a room full of enchanters who pride themselves on their security?"

Catherine smirked. "Exactly."

Jonas chuckled. "You really don't believe in subtlety, do you?"

Hadrian turned, stepping toward the central map. "Subtlety is for those trying to avoid conflict. I am making it clear that Haven is untouchable."

Catherine secured the final parchment and handed it to Hadrian. "Everything is ready. Our delegation leaves at dawn."

Matthias nodded. "Security measures?"

Hadrian's voice was smooth. "Minimal. Let them see us walk in unguarded and leave untouched."

Jonas grinned. "So, we're walking into the biggest international magical summit just to break their wards and walk out?"

Hadrian's smirk was cold, certain.

"No. We're walking in to show them that Haven is the future."

Jonas chuckled. "And if they don't like that?"

Hadrian exhaled, tucking the sealed parchment into his coat.

"Then they'll learn the hard way."

The Enchanters' Summit would change everything.

And Hadrian would make sure they never forgot it.

The International Enchanters' Summit was held in Geneva, a neutral ground where magical scholars, artificers, and enchanters gathered once every five years.

The main hall was an architectural marvel—high ceilings lined with enchanted silver, floating crystal orbs casting a soft, ethereal glow. The air thrummed with ancient wards, layered protections woven into the very foundation of the building.

It was considered one of the most secure magical locations in the world.

Hadrian planned to prove otherwise.

He walked into the grand hall with calculated ease, his cloak barely shifting as he moved. Catherine, Matthias, and Jonas followed, all dressed in the sleek, dark attire of Haven's delegation—no weapons, no guards.

A statement.

The hall was filled with enchanters, diplomats, and Ministry representatives, all gathered in clusters, deep in discussion. The British delegation stood near the center, their robes lined with the insignia of the Department of Mysteries. Further down, the MACUSA representatives observed quietly, their expressions unreadable.

Hadrian felt the weight of dozens of eyes turning toward him.

Whispers. Recognition. Tension.

A tall, silver-haired enchanter near the front of the hall straightened. "Lord Peverell," he greeted, his voice polite but measured. "Haven's presence here is… unexpected."

Hadrian smirked. "Then you should learn to expect the inevitable."

Silence rippled through the chamber.

Catherine set the sealed parchment down on the central table, her movements deliberate. "Haven has come to offer something new."

One of the British enchanters scoffed. "What could a rogue settlement possibly have that the greatest minds of the world do not?"

Hadrian chuckled softly. "Why don't you see for yourselves?"

He reached into his coat and withdrew a single polished sphere, covered in intricate silver inlays.

The enchanters watched, some with skepticism, some with curiosity.

Hadrian rolled the sphere across the table. It came to a slow stop at the center—and then, with a soft pulse, the air shifted.

The floating lanterns above flickered. The wards shuddered.

And then, for the first time in the summit's history, the ancient enchantments of the great hall collapsed.

Gasps echoed through the chamber.

The protective barriers woven by centuries of enchanters unraveled in an instant, their magic reduced to nothing. The British delegation stepped back instinctively, their wands tightening in their grip.

The French ambassador exhaled sharply. "Impossible."

Hadrian leaned forward, his green eyes gleaming. "No. Revolutionary."

The hall erupted into chaos.

And Hadrian Peverell smiled.

The silence stretched, heavy and unyielding.

Hadrian remained still, letting the weight of the moment sink into the gathered officials and enchanters. He could see it in their eyes—the dawning realization, the quiet panic beneath the surface. Everything they had once believed about magical security, about power, had just unraveled in front of them.

And he had done it with a single device.

The French ambassador was the first to recover. He turned to the British delegation, arching a brow. "Your Ministry has spent decades enforcing outdated policies. It appears Lord Peverell has been… more efficient."

The British official, the stern-faced woman who had spoken earlier, clenched her jaw. "This is a violation of international magical stability."

Hadrian chuckled softly. "No. This is progress."

The MACUSA envoy, the sharp-eyed man who had watched everything without reaction, finally spoke. "What is it you want, Lord Peverell?"

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "Recognition."

The room tensed.

Matthias leaned forward. "Haven is not some rogue settlement. It is a sovereign city. You will acknowledge it as such."

The British official's lips thinned. "And if we don't?"

Hadrian's smirk was slow, deliberate. "Then you will find that the world is already moving forward without you."

Another silence. A heavier one.

The British delegation remained silent.

The Ministry officials exchanged glances, their expressions carefully blank—but Hadrian saw the truth beneath their masks. Shock. Unease. Fear.

Not fear of violence. Fear of irrelevance.

For centuries, they had believed themselves the gatekeepers of magical advancement. The sole authority.

Tonight, Hadrian had proven them wrong.

The MACUSA envoy exhaled slowly. "You are forcing the world to change, Lord Peverell."

Hadrian smirked. "I am giving the world a choice. Whether you take it or not… is up to you."

The weight of his words settled over the chamber.

And in that moment, Hadrian knew—Haven had won.