Chapter 1: The Ilvermorny Deserter
New York, Broadway.
Gershwin Theatre.
The final act of Faust.
Cellos, double basses, clarinets, horns, and pianos — the sounds of all the instruments blended together.
"Virgin! Mother! Goddess! Queen!"
"Bless us with your eternal mercy."
"…"
As a brilliant holy light descended from the dome, its pure silver glow flowed like a tangible substance, scattering the mist of dry ice. Stifled but sharp gasps echoed through the silent theater.
Security guards patrolled near the stage, catching the gleam of the flowing light from the corners of their eyes and slowing their steps slightly.
Even though they had seen this scene countless times before, they couldn't help but marvel each time.
Below, the elegantly dressed audience stared at the stage. As the brightly lit golden rotunda gradually dimmed, a look of awe spread across their shadowed faces.
Only the two elderly men in the back row looked different. Their expressions were calm, yet their eyes sparkled with amusement, as if they were truly enjoying the show.
The man on the left was hard to distinguish, but beyond his thick gray beard, half-moon spectacles glinted faintly. His eyes, far from clouded, shone a clear sky blue.
"Moonstone, livid herb… what an impressive stage setup," the bearded man murmured softly, a smile in his tone. "Thanks to him, everyone here — myself included — will have a sweet dream tonight."
His companion nodded lightly, his voice hoarse and frail. "Moonstone, born in June, symbolizes health, longevity, and wealth. Moonlight calms restlessness and anxiety, lulling us into peaceful sleep."
Judging from his sagging skin and wrinkles, he was older, yet beardless, with shorter, silvery hair that gave him an air of quiet mystery.
The white-haired man pondered for a moment. "A question unrelated to the opera, Nico. This wizard… this special effects designer — how did he get approval from the Magical Congress of the United States?"
"You didn't even wait for the curtain to fall, Albus."
The elder called Nico sounded mildly exasperated. But since the most exciting part of the show had already passed, and the question itself was interesting, he didn't mind answering. "Actually, he never submitted anything to the Magical Congress for approval."
"Oh?"
Albus Dumbledore's eyes brightened immediately with curiosity. "Surely the Aurors at Woolworth Building wouldn't allow him to violate the Statute of Secrecy so blatantly."
"Arrogant as ever, Albus. What makes you think he's violated it?"
"That flowing moonlight…"
"If any Auror or inspector files a complaint, the investigation will find that all of these stage effects were created using Muggle technology. His Muggle assistants can reproduce them perfectly."
Nicolas Flamel smiled knowingly. "This sort of thing has happened more than once in the past two months. The Phantom of New York even made front-page headlines last week."
"I recall an Ilvermorny deserter who once overturned a Congress judge using procedural justice…"
Dumbledore tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, raising his gaze toward the stage — his deep eyes seemed to pierce through the curtain and into the backstage.
"Melvin Levent."
…
"All is fleeting, all illusion;
All that was unpredictable has become real here…"
As the final chant ended, the actors stood side by side. A few staff members joined them on stage amid thunderous applause, bowing in gratitude.
Behind the main cast, two people in charge of special effects stood together, speaking quietly.
"Melvin, your name's already famous on Broadway. I've heard Hollywood's offering a fortune to hire you for a movie. Soon your name will be known around the world," murmured a fair-skinned young woman. She wore a navy-blue jacket, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.
Beside her stood a tall, handsome man. His hands rested naturally at his sides, a dark gray ring glinting on his slender left ring finger. Black hair, black eyes, and a gentle smile — yet deep within those dark pupils shimmered an unusual gleam.
"Thank you for your kind words," Melvin replied absently, his gaze drifting toward the audience. The opera was over, the theater lights had come on, and the thousands of spectators sat neatly arranged, like rows of identical stuffed dolls, indistinguishable from one another.
"I'm going to the restroom, Claire. I'll see you in the office after the curtains close."
"Well, you are my boss after all… enjoy your bathroom break."
"…"
Melvin gave her a calm look and turned to leave.
By the time he reached the backstage restroom, the roar of applause had faded into a faint, distant hum. The air carried a faint, chaotic odor — a mix of disinfectant and ammonia — making Melvin frown slightly as he stepped inside.
[Whirlwind Cleanse]
In the silent, empty restroom, a whistling wind suddenly burst forth — the kind you'd only hear in a desert or deep valley. An invisible vortex swept through the room, wrapping up and trapping the foul odor.
Melvin flicked his hand, and the formless swirl condensed before him, coalescing into a small black sphere that looked oddly like a chocolate hazelnut bar.
"Stink bomb…"
Melvin chuckled softly, feeling rather pleased.
His wandless cleaning spells — once difficult right after leaving school — now came effortlessly. His Transfiguration skills had also improved, and his silent-casting speed had grown much faster. The surge of magic over the last six months had finally led to a qualitative breakthrough.
At his current level, he could probably handle most senior Aurors of MACUSA.
The audience tonight had been especially lively — almost as if extraordinary beings were lurking beneath the stage.
Pocketing the small sphere, Melvin looked into the mirror.
It reflected the room — left and right reversed — and a figure — also reversed.
Deep within that reflection, his dark pupils still shimmered faintly with a crystalline glow, though only a few creatures could perceive it. It was the mark of magical power in motion.
Yes — this world was steeped in incredible magic, and those who wielded it were called wizards.
And Melvin Levent was one of them, having studied magic at a place called Ilvermorny.
Ilvermorny, the only school of magic in the United States, stood atop Mount Greylock in Massachusetts. A castle steeped in history and legend, it was now one of the most renowned magical schools in the world.
Unfortunately, Melvin never finished his studies.
The Magical Congress of the United States — MACUSA — governed magical law, yet its education system was flawed, its last revision over fifty years ago. There was nothing like compulsory education. The professors at Ilvermorny were kind, and Melvin had no troublesome relatives to deal with.
Six months ago, at the end of 1990, Melvin had spent his seventh Christmas at school. Near graduation, he took a leave of absence and became a stage designer for Broadway's Gershwin Theatre — where he rose to fame almost overnight.
The rewards were generous pay — and rapidly growing magical power.
Melvin felt the flow of magic in silence, recalling his days at Ilvermorny. He turned on the faucet and rinsed his hands in cold water.
According to school history, Ilvermorny was founded in the 17th century, beginning as a simple stone cottage. Its founder, Isolt Sayre, was not a great witch — not famous in the magical world, and even less so with her non-magical lover, James Stewart.
The school's greatest virtue was its inclusiveness. This openness allowed it to flourish during waves of immigration, drawing magical students from across the globe and growing into one of the most celebrated magical institutions.
This was inseparable from the founder of another legendary school — Salazar Slytherin.
As one of Slytherin's distant descendants, Isolt Sayre shared a mysterious connection with that legendary wizard.
Legends say she stole Slytherin's treasures — countless gold, silver, and jewels, a mysterious snakewood wand, and ancient magical manuscripts.
The treasure might still lie hidden beneath the school; the snakewood wand had transformed into the Serpent Tree that clung to the cliffs of Greylock; and the ancient manuscripts were said to rest within Ilvermorny's Restricted Section.
None of this was Melvin's doing — his gift came from a strange creature: the Horned Serpent.
A magical serpent with sharp horns on its head, found in many forms across the world. While many specimens had been captured in the Far East, its true habitat was in America.
Legend says the wizards of Massachusetts once saw a unique Horned Serpent with a gem on its forehead — one that granted invisibility and flight, and was rumored to possess powers of foresight.
A new author, a new tale. Add it to your collection!
(End of Chapter)