Little Dreamers

"Would you be willing to accept our loyalty, Mr. Breen?"

After Draco's words, the gym classroom fell so silent that a pin drop could be heard.

Draco and every Slytherin student who had stayed behind waited nervously for Professor Breen's response. They waited for thunderous fury, a calm refusal, or willing acceptance. They all believed that, with Professor Breen's wisdom, he would surely understand what they meant.

Amosta was rendered speechless.

He looked at the youthful faces before him. The youngest was Astoria, merely a second-year student, while the others were still two or three years away from adulthood.

Yet this group of children stood before him, visibly nervous, but Amosta could see excitement and an elevated sense of mission in their eyes, as though they were taking part in some historic event.

Amosta pressed his lips together but said nothing.

With a wave of his wand, the classroom curtains flew shut with a rustle, blocking out the dazzling white sunlight outside. The wall torches lit one after another—but instead of their usual warm orange flames, they gave off a pale green glow that was somewhat sinister and eerie.

The desks stacked against the walls hopped over in a line. Amid rapidly spinning blurs, they transformed into soft sofas arranged in a circle. One desk twisted and stretched out its tabletop, then leaped over the ring of sofas and abruptly shortened its legs, becoming a large coffee table.

Amosta waved his wand again, summoning plenty of snacks sent to him by fans from his office, along with some food from the kitchen. Pies, grilled sausages, pumpkin juice, and the like, followed by a complete tea set.

Draco fought to contain his excitement. He believed Professor Breen's actions meant something.

"Come on, find yourselves a seat—"

Amosta turned to the students