Hidden in the farthest corner of the Oval Office, shrouded in the undetectable protection and security provided by the Cloak of Invisibility, the three wizards remained as quiet as they could. Their keen senses were fixed on the people who had just entered the legendary office.
President Bill Clinton walked somewhat listlessly toward the Resolute Desk. He slumped into the leather chair, let out a long sigh that betrayed the weight on his shoulders, and, flashing a weary smile that didn't reach the eyes of the others in the room, addressed the four people who had followed him inside.
"Please take a seat. I suppose we can finally get started with our long-awaited weekly meeting," said the president, loosening his tie slightly.
His advisors settled in across from him—three men and one woman, all with stern expressions and looking just as exhausted and tense as the president himself.
Aurelian and the twins listened attentively as the conversation began. For the first twenty minutes, the atmosphere was filled with the usual tedious and monotonous bureaucratic drivel. One of the men talked nonstop about the budget deficit and the crisis in the national healthcare system; the woman presented a detailed report on a catastrophic industrial accident somewhere in San Francisco; and another advisor discussed the devastating damage caused by a recent hurricane that had struck Texas.
To Aurelian, this was basic geopolitical information. But for Hestia and Flora, who had been raised at the pinnacle of the magical aristocracy, listening to the mundane tragedies and financial problems of the "magicless animals" was a torment from which they wanted to escape as soon as possible.
Beneath his cloak, Aurelian immediately sensed his wives growing impatient. Flora shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and Hestia frowned with deep irritation, her fingers brushing the handle of her wand. Knowing the girls were just one bad thought away from casting a Crucio out of sheer boredom, Aurelian squeezed their hands firmly.
He looked them straight in the eyes and gave them a look that left no room for argument—an irrefutable command that they had to stay still and be patient. Hestia and Flora let out a barely audible snort, but they tightened their grip on their husband's hands and nodded, submitting to his will.
At that moment, the dynamic of the meeting in the office shifted.
Bill Clinton rose from his chair, rubbing his face with both hands. He walked slowly to one of the large windows and gazed out at the gardens.
"Tell me something, guys," the president murmured, with his back to them. "Away from the microphones and the press cameras, what do you really think about all those issues we just discussed?"
The four people on the sofas looked at one another. They exchanged knowing glances, shedding any pretense.
"With all due respect, Mr. President," said the oldest advisor, adjusting his glasses, "much of what we just discussed doesn't really matter. It's collateral damage. Statistics that will be forgotten in the long run."
Bill Clinton burst out laughing, turning to look at them, agreeing with them completely.
"Exactly. It's pure theater for the masses," the president stated, leaning against the window frame with a cynical smile. "At the end of the day, the only thing that truly matters is money. Keeping our taxpayers happy with illusions, and our business leaders and donors completely satisfied and with their pockets full. The rest is just noise."
The four advisors smiled in unison, nodding at the cold truth. Immediately, they set aside their folders and began discussing the data and figures that truly mattered to them.
Aurelian stood still, listening intently, and a smile of pure, ironic amusement spread across his lips. He found human hypocrisy fascinating. Listening to the so-called leaders of the "freest" country in the world shamelessly plan how to maximize profits for large corporations—without the slightest regard for collateral damage, lost lives, or the environment—proved to him that Muggles and wizards weren't so different after all. Power always operated under the same rules. Money.
Beside her, Hestia and Flora blinked, completely confused. They understood practically nothing of what those Muggles were talking about. Those people were throwing around strange terms like oil, natural gas, offshore drilling, and hydrocarbons. The twins exchanged a glance, deciding that later they would ask their clever husband to explain what on earth all those words meant and why humans would kill each other over something called "black gold." Why would gold be black to Muggles? Hestia and Flora clearly had no idea.
Clinton stepped away from the window and walked back to his desk, resting his hands on the wood with an air of triumph.
"The world is changing, gentlemen. Major changes are about to take place and will unfold in the coming years," the president declared proudly. "And best of all, the United States is and will remain the absolute center of it all—especially since the Soviets, or the Russians as they now call themselves, dissolved and collapsed. We are the strongest empire on earth."
The four people in the room laughed, sharing their leader's arrogance.
But then, the doorknob of the Oval Office door turned.
The moment the door began to open, Aurelian, Hestia, and Flora's magical senses shot through the roof. Their body temperatures dropped, their skin prickled, and the twins drew their wands on pure instinct, aiming them toward the doorway.
An invisible pressure flooded the room. The one who had just entered was no ordinary human. He was a wizard.
And he wasn't just any wizard with a few tricks up his sleeve; the magical aura he exuded was suffocating, even though he didn't fully control it. Aurelian narrowed his eyes, analyzing the stranger's power signature. He was a wizard of the highest caliber, a full-fledged Summoner—exactly on the same level of power as Aurelian himself at that moment.
Thank goodness the legendary Cloak of Invisibility woven by Death herself completely erased them from reality. If they had been using simple disillusionment spells or an ordinary cloak, it was highly likely—almost certain—that the mage would have noticed them the instant he set foot inside the office.
The man who entered wore a dark gray tailored suit, carried a leather briefcase, and had piercing gray eyes that scanned the room with precision.
Despite the newcomer's intimidating presence, President Clinton did not seem frightened in the least. On the contrary, he smiled broadly and extended a hand in greeting.
"Ah, you're just in time," Clinton said, addressing the other advisors. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce one of my former advisors and my primary liaison on… classified matters. Mr. Ulises Kerrigan. He's in charge of dealing with everything different and 'strange' in this world."
"Mr. Kerrigan has been with me since the first day I took office," President Clinton continued, gesturing toward the impeccably dressed magician who had just entered. "However, he doesn't much like to draw attention to himself; he prefers to operate from the shadows. That's why none of you had had the pleasure of meeting him until today."
The four advisors nodded politely, though their postures betrayed a certain wariness toward the stranger. Ulises Kerrigan did not return their smiles. He walked with a firm, silent stride until he stood beside the Resolute Desk, leaned in slightly, and whispered a couple of inaudible words into the president's ear.
Under the Cloak of Invisibility, Aurelian strained his ears, but the wizard had used a silencing spell that made it impossible for him to decipher the message.
Clinton nodded slowly in response to the whisper. He sat up straight in his chair, clasped his hands on the desk, and looked at his four advisors with a polite smile.
"Gentlemen, I greatly appreciate your attendance and your reports. That will be all for today. I would kindly ask you to leave and let us be alone."
The four politicians asked no questions. They nodded obediently, gathered their folders, and left the Oval Office in complete silence.
When the heavy sound of the door closing echoed through the room, the president's affable facade vanished. Bill Clinton slumped heavily back in his chair and fixed his gaze on the magician.
"Tell me, Ulises, do you need anything in particular?" Bill asked, his tone growing colder and more inquisitive. "It's quite rare to see you in these hallways these days."
The wizard stood rigidly upright, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Certain anomalies arose that required my undivided attention, Mr. President. Nothing your administration needs to worry about at the moment."
Bill Clinton snorted and nodded, remarking with a touch of irony.
"You guys... people like you are always like this. So secretive, so mysterious. You never give a straight answer."
Aurelian, watching from the living room, noticed how Ulises tensed ever so slightly at the comment. The wizard's jaw muscles tensed, but his self-control was ironclad, and he didn't say a single word in response to the Muggle's provocation.
Clinton sighed, twirling a pen between his fingers as his gaze drifted to the wood of the desk, lost in memories of the past.
"You know, I still remember it as if it were yesterday," Bill began, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "When I took office and that crazy guy in an old-fashioned suit appeared out of nowhere in this very office, telling me all about his magical world, about MACUSA, and the magical government of the United States... I must admit I was perplexed. For a second, I thought the stress of the presidency had driven me mad.
The president let out a small, humorless chuckle.
"But anyway… you get used to the idea that you share the world with things that defy reason."
The conversation lasted a few more minutes, touching on a couple of guidelines of little tactical importance, until Ulises Kerrigan gave a slight nod.
"If you'll excuse me, Mr. President, I have matters to attend to."
"Go ahead, Ulises. Keep me informed," Clinton replied, returning to his papers.
The wizard turned on his heel and left the office, closing the door behind him.
The moment the lock clicked and Bill Clinton believed himself to be completely alone, his demeanor changed radically. He flung the pen onto the desk and shook his head, his face contorting into an expression of pure disgust.
"The magical race..." murmured the president in the solitude of his office, spitting out the words as if they were poison. "They're strange. Absurdly different from us. And that... that's just wrong. It's an aberration against nature."
He stood up, walked over to a small bar tucked away in a corner of the office—just a couple of meters from where the trio of magicians was hiding—and drank directly from a glass bottle.
As the amber liquid poured into the glass, Bill Clinton let out a laugh—a sinister sound that stood in stark contrast to the charismatic image he projected to the world.
"That's why I started investigating their little magic further," he said aloud, talking to himself as he poured his drink. "They think they're untouchable; they think they're gods hidden in the shadows. But they're wrong."
The president raised the glass to eye level, watching the light reflect off the liquor, and smiled in a chilling way.
"Only humans will rule the Earth in the future. It is our destiny. We won't let a bunch of freak show monsters with sticks dictate our terms."
In the shadowy corner, beneath the Cloak of Invisibility, Hestia and Flora were trembling with rage, their fury so intense it threatened to destabilize the sorceress around them. Flora had already raised her wand, aiming it directly at the president's head, ready to cast the Killing Curse and blow the free world's leader's brains out right then and there.
But Aurelian gently lowered his wife's hand.
Aurelian Gaunt wasn't angry. Quite the opposite. As he watched the most powerful man in the human world drink his glass of liquor and fantasize about magical annihilation, a predatory, dark, and deeply satisfied smile spread across the Lord's lips.
Bill Clinton had just proven him right about everything. He had just confirmed, in his own words, that Aurelian's plan to take the wizards to the stars was not paranoia; it was the only possible salvation before humans, driven by their fear and hatred, tried to burn them at the stake once again.
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