While the Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors were locked in a bitter stalemate.
The Magic Research Institute.
A researcher pushed open the door to the underground computer room.
"Who are you? This is a classified area. No unauthorized personnel." Two wizards were standing guard at the end of the corridor. When they saw him, they blocked his way.
"I'm Howard Jackson, the new program engineer. I'm responsible for debugging Athena's system." The researcher took out his credentials.
"Jackson?" One wizard took the credential and glanced at it. "Magical Plant Research Department? You're not—"
But before he could finish, there came a thud. At some point, his companion beside him had collapsed. He instinctively reached for his wand, only to hear the man calling himself Jackson say in a slow, gentle voice that was almost impossible to refuse, "Sleep."
An irresistible drowsiness made the wizard unable to lift even a finger. In the final moment before he lost consciousness, he tried to send a message through the mind network, but after it went out, it sank like a stone into the sea, with no response at all.
"Within the range covered by my mindscape, any mental transmission will be cut off," "Jackson" said, taking a card from the wizard's chest and pressing it against the blast door behind the two men.
With a beep, the blast door opened.
Inside was another corridor. As soon as he stepped in, he heard a female voice say, "Entering sterile room. Please accept disinfection."
Similar arrangements existed in every important laboratory, and this so-called "disinfection," aside from the usual sterilization of bacteria and viruses, was also mixed with the Goblins' "Thief's Downfall," capable of eliminating the effects of the vast majority of spells, thereby preventing infiltration.
Jackson had already undergone "disinfection" several times