Prologue:
Ian Wing sighed loudly, running his hand through his short graying hair, as he read the paper that had been handed to him. The man on the opposite side of the table was staring at him intently; Ian almost felt as if he was being observed in such a manner that the man in front of him could write a book on his every move.
"I'm sorry Wing, but this is the only way to continue the operation," the man said, not sugarcoating the situation in the slightest.
He was not a tall man by any means, but his demeanor radiated power in such a way that he could tower over every person in the room. Ian, who was quite a tall man himself, felt intimidated by the person in front of him.
Ian looked at the man in disbelief. Sure, he was the boss, but wasn't this plan of action a bit extreme?
"Do you mean that I have to move to Britain? What is the point in that? I can't do what you do!"
"Indeed you can't, Wing," his boss said, agreeing. "But I need someone in the Ministry of Magic to make sure that my plan succeeds. It cannot fail. I will stay here and make sure that the United Ministry of America is kept in line. Project Purify must have Britain under its power; otherwise we have no chance of succeeding. And, we both know you don't want that, you know the consequences. That is why I need a man inside.
"There are more purebloods in Britain versus any other nation in the entire world. You must understand this. Britain will be our new base of operations at the end of all of this, Ian," the man said, staring deep into Ian's blue eyes, still not finding an adequate amount of acceptance within.
"We've been in this since the beginning, and now, we are at the verge of putting the plan into action. We have worked so hard to get to this point my friend, and we can do this, we really can." he said convincingly, clasping Ian's hand within his own, hoping that it would be enough.
Wing looked as if he was going to agree, but something itching at the back of his mind causing his reluctance.
"What about my daughter? She will not be happy with this arrangement. She has a school here, as well as friends," he said, voicing his thoughts.
"I have already thought of this," his boss responded, not looking the least bit fazed. "I have contacted Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She will be tested, and if she passes, she will be accepted into the third year class. You know the reputation of Hogwarts, the education she will receive will be immaculate."
Slowly, Ian Wing nodded. An education at Hogwarts for his daughter was a definite bonus. He then stood and shook his bosses hand.
"I accept. I'll send you an owl from Britain."
"I shall be expecting it," his boss replied, one of his small, rare smiles forming upon his face.
Ian did not return the smile, but his facial expression portrayed acceptance. He strode out of the room, his robes billowing in an almost bat-like manner behind him.
After a few minutes of much-needed peace that Ian's boss had, another man strolled into room purposefully. Although caught by surprise, he was careful to keep his face stoic.
"I just heard the news. Is it true that Wing is being transferred?" the man who had walked in asked, without preamble.
"Yes Ruthford, it is true." the boss responded with a small sigh.
"I honestly didn't think he would go for it, with his daughter and everything," the second man, Ruthford, said. "How did you persuade him?"
"I just told him what he wanted to hear. It works every time. Now," the boss paused, looking Ruthford in the eye. "Don't you have to preparations to make or are you planning to gossip with me for the rest of the day?"
Ruthford quickly jumped out of the chair, not wanting to upset his boss, and ran out of the office.
The boss sighed in exasperation as soon as Ruthford had left the room and looked down onto his desk, moving his chair slightly back in order to access a drawer, which he had sealed with the most powerful magic, he knew of. He performed the complex spell and opened the drawer, which held his most important possessions. Or rather, a possession, which he took out of the drawer. A gold and scarlet frame, with a lion in the corner, stood out against the light colored wood of the desk. It was a picture of two people, who were moving within the frame, one looking to be around 12 years old, with grey eyes and brown hair blowing in the wind. The other person was older, most likely the girl's mother, with the same hair color, and the same mischievous look that was in her daughter's eyes. The boss touched his fingers to his lips and pressed them to the photo.
"I'll avenge you, my sweets," he whispered, his eyes filled with determination.
With that, he put the frame back in the drawer, and redid the charm.
He took out a few files, laid them upon his desk, and began to look over the final preparations. Project Purify was coming, and he had to be ready.