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Two sets of footsteps echoed through a stone hallway inside the Ministry of Magic. The humidity of the place made it perfect for moss to grow on the stone walls and on the heavy oaken door at the end of the hall, but the two people didn't seem to give it a thought. The two, in fact, were too absorbed in their thoughts to even look at each other. They were complete opposites. The man on the right was tall and thin and had a somewhat savage gleam in his cooper-colored eyes. His clothes looked old and dusty and their colors were dull and his shoes lacked lustre, giving an impression that he did not care about appearances; an idea that was only reinforced by his wild brown hair and his crudely done beard. The man on the left, on the other hand, was short and fat and had this pompous air around him. His eyes were small, his nose big and round, and his cheeks fat and pink, what would make him look exactly like a pig if not for the thin mustache he wore. His clothes couldn't contrast more with his companion's. They were colorful and pompous and full of intricate details. The only thing the two had in common was the fact that neither of them wore hats.

When they reached the heavy oaken door the tall man decided to break the silence. "What brings you to the Department of Mysteries today, Minister?" he asked as a mere formality. He was completely sure of the Minister's intentions.

"What else, Oakley?" Gareth Boardington, the Minister of Magic, answered in a tired voice. "What else if not that? Anyway, have you made any progress, Oakley?"

Bernard Oakley sighed deeply as he opened the door and proceeded inside. The Minister followed him. "I'm afraid that not yet, sir," he said without looking at the Minister. They took a left on the next fork, heading to the room that stored the prophecies. "That prophecy is quite vague. Perhaps it is on purpose so we can do nothing to try and prevent it from happening."

"Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, the wizarding world shall take notice of a magical talent that surpasses any other, a talent that will change the very ways of magic and society, be it for good or for bad..." The Minister repeated from the top of his mind; he had listened to the prophecy so many times in the past days that he now knew it by heart. Boardington sighed and lightly shook his head. "I guess you are right Oakley. The only thing we can do now is wait..."



"Which platform you said it was, honey?" a mother asked her son as they entered King's Cross station. She already knew the answer, but it was just too... bizarre, there was no other word to describe the situation. Her son, a wizard? She still couldn't believe it or even understand how it all had happened.

"Platform 9-3/4, mom," Jason Oppenheimer answered excitedly, apparently not noticing how his mother felt. "I've said it before." Jason was a eleven-year-old boy, but rather skinny for his age - his jeans looked too large for him. One could say he was a normal boy: blond hair, glasses, some freckles - nothing out of ordinary in his appearance. But in fact, Jason was a wizard.

"A wizard," he though as they looked for the right platform, "I still have my doubts about it. I'm probably the clumsiest person in Britain and I'm not very intelligent either. How can I be a wizard? Perhaps this is just a dream?"

He would discover that night, after being sorted into the Hufflepuff house, that it was no dream at all.