In the Prime Minister's office, the incumbent, John Major, sat uneasily behind his desk, glancing at the sky outside the window from time to time.
There was longing in his eyes, but also anxiety, quite unlike his usual calm composure.
By the visitors' sofa, Barty Crouch, who had arrived first, was placidly sipping his tea.
"Mr. Crouch, when will your companions arrive? Do wizards really live in the sky? In that legendary Asgard?"
For what must have been the umpteenth time, John Major asked the question again.
Barty set down his teacup and answered patiently.
"Mr. Major, please don't be nervous. As I've told you, ordinary wizards don't live in the sky. They live in a hidden, sparsely populated area.
"The place where you'll be dining today is our wizarding leader's Floating Island Palace.
"Even ordinary wizards rarely have the chance to visit it.
"On your very first visit to the Wizarding World, your first stop will be the leader's residence. That should be ample proof of how much importance he places on you and on Muggles."
Major nodded. Barty had already explained a great deal about the Wizarding World to him in detail.
The two sides had even reached agreements on a few relatively minor matters, such as exchanges of meat, vegetables, and grain.
As for medicinal potions, joint research into technology and magic, and more confidential forms of cooperation, those required the leaders of both sides to make the final decisions.
The serious, earnest wizard before him had a much better attitude than the previous minister. He lacked that deep-seated arrogance that made him look down on Muggles.
In truth, Major was still somewhat uncertain about cooperating with wizards.
Previous prime ministers had all learned of the Wizarding World's existence through the talking portrait on the wall.
But