Bhutan, regarded as the birthplace of magic.
Unlike the cities of the visible world, Bhutan in the wizarding world lies on one face of Mount Everest and possesses an ancient magical culture.
At the same time, it is both the site of the Wizards' Union's internal pre election meeting and the place where the election results will later be announced, welcoming the new President of the Union in celebration.
After briefly wrapping up his trip to America, Tver arrived here before August began.
However, because he had been delayed a little in America, Modesty had actually been brought here several days earlier by Zhou Ya at his request.
By the time Tver appeared in this holy city of the wizarding world, the place was already filled with the lively excitement of wizards gathering together.
The Wizards' Union election involved more than two hundred countries and regions in the magical world, so it was no longer merely an internal Union matter.
Of course, Tver currently had neither the standing nor the interest to care about the election itself.
After all, Dumbledore's dismissal had come far too suddenly, so in order to restore the Union's normal operations as quickly as possible, the election process and ceremony had been simplified as much as possible.
Under those circumstances, Babajide's chances of winning were already close to certain...
But the moment Tver stepped into this place, he sensed a different sort of presence.
Traces of magic were everywhere throughout the city.
In other places, even in wizard settlements like Hogsmeade or wizard shopping streets like Diagon Alley, large scale use of magic was not permitted.
But this place was different. The entire city itself was filled with all kinds of ancient magic.
It was a bit like Hogwarts, only the area here was hundreds of times larger.
"Magnificent..."
Tver looked around and sighed in admiration.
The city resembled the Tibetan regions he had seen in his previous life, made up mostly of trapezoidal buildings with white walls and red roofs. Against the backdrop of snow covered mountains, that solemn style carried a deep weight of history.
It felt just like the ancient magic hidden here.
"Young man, listen carefully. This is ancient magic telling the story of its own origin..."
An old man in red robes rose from where he had been crouching on the ground and scattered the rice in his hand onto the earth.
The next moment, with a soft whoosh, a small flock of Diricawls appeared before him and happily began enjoying their breakfast.
"The story of its origin?" Tver asked, puzzled.
To be honest, although it was not directly pressuring him, all he could sense was a depth as vast and heavy as the sea.
"Do not resist, child. Close your eyes. In truth, it is welcoming your arrival," the old man said with a smile.
Under the gentle morning sunlight, he looked as benevolent and mysterious as the nearby thangka painting.
Tver sensed no hostility from the old man. In fact, he did not even sense any magic from him. Coupled with his confidence in his own strength, he did as he was told and gently closed his eyes.
At once, a suffocating heaviness clearly spread through every cell in his body. The pressure felt just like the sensation he had experienced when he first encountered Helga.
This time, even though his strength had advanced tremendously over the past four years, he still felt as unsure as he had back then, not knowing how to respond.
"Do not resist. You know the city's magic is not directed at you..."
The old man's voice sounded by his ear. For some reason, Tver's whole body gradually relaxed on its own, and he withdrew the magic circulating around himself.
Immediately, a mass of magic as heavy as a mountain swept him up like a tidal wave. Then, like a sheet of paper caught in the wind, he drifted slowly with that magic around the city and the snowy peaks.
Whoosh.
With a soft sound, the paper seemed to burn away like something touched by flame, turning to ash and blending into the whole city, becoming one with the ancient source of magic within it.
The feeling was so strange and wonderful that Tver almost sank into it.
He could clearly hear the noisy celebrations echoing through the city, yet his heart was indescribably calm.
It was as if the world had nothing to do with him at all.
"This is magic..."
The old man's voice sounded again, but this time it was far more distant and ethereal.
"Magic lies hidden within our hearts. No matter what method we use to cast, no matter what language we use to speak our spells..."
"It follows only the most fundamental laws of this world. The birth and passing of life, the use of magic..."
"And we, just like muggle scientists, are only people exploring those laws, exploring the deepest secrets of this world and this universe..."
A flicker of astonishment appeared on Tver's tranquil face.
Scientists?
Had old Bhutanese wizards really become so progressive that they understood things like this now?
The peace in his heart shattered in that instant, and he opened his eyes at once.
The scenery was still just as magnificent. The Diricawls were still happily pecking at the rice. In the distance, the wizards were still making a ruckus as fireworks burst across the sky.
But the old man had vanished like a phantom.
"Why are you still here?" Babajide came hurrying over and shot Tver an annoyed glare.
"The meeting starts in less than half an hour. It was one thing that you could not come a few days earlier, but you cannot possibly be late too, can you?!"
"There is still half an hour left. Going earlier would just mean sitting there for nothing. Why be in such a hurry?" Tver shrugged indifferently and let himself be dragged toward the upper part of the city.
"Sitting there for nothing?" Babajide laughed in exasperation.
"The news that you brought Modesty here has already spread. This is the first time in decades that a muggle has appeared here again!"
"And the last time was when Grindelwald intended to run for President of the Wizards' Union!"
"The representatives of the other countries are in an uproar over it!"
"Wait. Are you sure no other muggles have ever appeared here?" Tver suddenly grabbed him, startled.
"Of course. There are no conditions here that would allow muggles to live," Babajide replied, turning back with a strange look. "This place is maintained entirely through wizard magic. Only wizards come here from time to time on pilgrimage."
Tver was even more surprised. He pointed to the place where he had just been standing.
"But I just saw an old man in red robes feeding the Diricawls, and the rice is still there on the ground..."
"But that was you," Babajide said with an odd expression.
"Just now, you were the one scattering a handful of rice on the ground, then closing your eyes and standing there quietly. I saw it with my own eyes!"
"?"
Tver's eyes widened in shock.
But seeing that time was running short, Babajide grabbed his arm again and led him up the stairs.
"Why are you so surprised? Did something happen?" he asked curiously as he guided him along.
"Uh..." Tver hesitated.
"I may have encountered the legendary echo this ancient city bestows upon people..."