Night had fallen over London, and a particular villa stood quiet and serene amidst the sprawling cityscape. Inside, a young boy, barely fourteen or fifteen years old, lay sprawled on his large bed in the dimly lit bedroom.
In his hands was a game console, its screen glowing faintly in the darkness. He was engrossed in the game, his fingers moving rapidly over the buttons as he guided the on-screen character through a fierce battle against monsters.
At his age, playing games was more than a hobby—it was a passion, a daily ritual. Missing even a single day left him feeling restless, as if something vital was missing.
His strict parents, however, often curtailed his gaming time. They believed in discipline and structure, much to his dismay. The thought crossed his mind: If only I could play all day without interruptions… wouldn't that be the dream?
The idea brought a fleeting smile to his lips before he shook it off and refocused on the screen. His character was in the middle of a boss fight, and he couldn't afford to lose concentration now.
But just as he was beginning to revel in his progress, a strange sensation rippled through the air. It was subtle at first, an almost imperceptible wave that seemed to brush past the villa and beyond, spreading through the surrounding neighborhood.
The boy—Fox, as his parents called him—suddenly felt a heavy drowsiness settle over him. His eyelids drooped, and his hands grew sluggish, though he stubbornly gripped the console.
"Just one more round," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with determination.
One more round and I'll put it down. Just one more…
Ordinarily, this thought would be enough to keep him awake well past midnight, the lure of his games overpowering any desire for sleep. Yet tonight, something was different. The drowsiness was unlike anything he'd ever experienced—it wasn't just fatigue; it was as though an unseen force was gently pulling him into slumber.
"Ah… what is this?" Fox murmured, blinking hard to stave off the inevitable. His resistance waned quickly, however, and soon he placed the console on his bedside table with trembling fingers. Turning off the lamp, he burrowed under the covers and let out a long sigh.
As he drifted off, a peculiar memory surfaced in his mind: a large, glowing advertisement he had seen earlier that day while visiting the mall with his parents.
Right… that strange ad…
It had been emblazoned with bold text that read:
Kamar-Taj Admissions – A New Path Awaits!
Yet, for all its grandeur, the advertisement had offered no contact information—no phone numbers, no addresses, nothing. It was odd, to say the least, but Fox hadn't given it much thought at the time. Now, as the memory replayed itself in his mind, it seemed significant in a way he couldn't quite grasp.
Before he could ponder further, sleep claimed him entirely, his consciousness sinking into the depths of a dream.
The room, which had been dark and still moments before, was suddenly bathed in light. Several figures appeared, standing silently by Fox's bedside.
Among them were prominent faces in the wizarding world: Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall. Standing slightly apart from the group was Peggy Carter, Vice Principal of Kamar-Taj, her crimson wizard robes tailored elegantly to her form.
"Minister Fudge, Headmaster Dumbledore," Carter began, her voice calm and composed. She gestured toward the sleeping boy. "This is part of the admission method that Principal Lockhart devised for Kamar-Taj, tailored to its current needs."
She continued, her tone professional yet relaxed, "We've prepared rune patterns designed to identify individuals with potential for meditation. The advertisements you saw throughout London earlier today? Those patterns serve as a preliminary screening tool."
Carter spoke with the confidence of someone who had faced far greater challenges. After all, she was no stranger to pressure, having once commanded thousands of agents and earned a sterling reputation in the covert world. This audience, despite their stature, didn't rattle her in the slightest.
McGonagall, however, remained skeptical. Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow and addressed Carter directly. "Vice Principal Carter, I must admit I'm surprised to see you in such a position. Your reputation precedes you, but..." She trailed off, clearly wrestling with her own thoughts.
Carter smiled faintly. "I understand your reservations, Professor McGonagall. Principal Lockhart mentioned that individuals like yourself and Minister Fudge would naturally have questions, and I'm here to address them."
Turning her gaze toward Dumbledore, Carter added, "Principal Lockhart also advised that we remain transparent where appropriate, while respecting the sensitivities involved."
McGonagall, not one to mince words, pressed on. "I have to ask about the magic currently blanketing London. Was it Lockhart himself who cast such a large-scale spell, or did it involve other sorcerers? A spell of this magnitude, if mishandled, could have disastrous consequences."
Her sharp gaze shifted to Fudge. "Minister Fudge, I mean no offense to Lockhart, but does the Ministry truly permit such large-scale spellcasting? And doesn't this pose a risk to the International Statute of Secrecy?"
Caught off guard by her directness, Fudge glanced nervously at Dumbledore, who remained silent, his expression inscrutable. Gathering himself, Fudge replied, "Rest assured, Professor McGonagall, all precautions have been taken. This initiative was coordinated with the Ministry in advance, and Director Scrimgeour personally reviewed the security measures."
Fudge gestured to Scrimgeour, who stood nearby, his face impassive. "Isn't that right, Director?"
Scrimgeour nodded reluctantly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Lockhart's support for the Auror Office had made him a valuable ally, and Scrimgeour wasn't eager to jeopardize that relationship.
Satisfied for the moment, McGonagall fell silent.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "Carter, I sensed earlier that tens of thousands of people across London were affected by the spell. What is your next step?"
Carter met his gaze, her respect for the elder wizard evident. "Principal Dumbledore, we've meticulously planned every stage of the recruitment process. The next step involves guiding these individuals into the dream world to evaluate their potential."
She smiled. "Would you like to observe? I believe it will be most enlightening."
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