Anthony Weasley stood on the circular altar, lightly moving his hands as if conducting something. The dazzling Sea of Stars overhead immediately grew restless.
It was as though the still sea had suddenly swelled with enormous waves, becoming real in an instant.
A surging sense of life stirred something deep inside everyone watching. An indescribable emotion welled up in them, moving them to tears that rolled right out of their eye sockets.
It was the soul's profound feeling for its final destination.
It was a perception of the River of Spirituality that ordinary wizards could hardly touch, now made so vividly manifest before everyone.
"Is this the Magical World as King Weasley sees it?" someone in the crowd murmured, gazing up.
These were the Squibs undergoing experiments as part of the Wizarding World's Ritual Magic. Peter stared blankly at the river in the sky, his whole body trembling with an excitement he couldn't suppress.
King Weasley had once told people like them that if they took things slowly, they could gradually complete a second Magical Outburst and truly become wizards.
They would do so with the firmest possible foundation and a completely stabilized Magical Bloodline.
But even if he became a true "Pure-blood" wizard that way, he would probably never reach the Magical World that King Weasley had now touched.
It was so beautiful, so enviable.
He especially envied the members of Cabin and the Navigators, who could take part so closely.
Of course, joining their ranks didn't just mean doing physical labor that could be replaced by casting a Levitation Charm.
Nor were they just lackeys who came to watch Anton show off.
They all had their own tasks.
On one of the altars, Lockhart nervously watched Ron standing on the same altar. He had an instinctive distrust of