New York did not sleep.
And neither did ambition.
That was why I chose it.
I stood atop a quiet rooftop, the wind brushing lightly against my coat as I overlooked the endless stretch of lights below. Somewhere in that ocean of people—hidden among the noise of No-Majs and the rigid structure of MACUSA—were the individuals I sought.
Not the obedient.
Not the weak.
Not the ones content with the world as it was.
No.
I wanted the hungry.
The ones who looked at power… and desired it.
Recruitment, I had learned, was not about numbers.
It was about precision.
Anyone could gather followers.
Very few could build something that lasted.
I closed my eyes briefly, extending my senses—not just through magic, but through intent. Threads of Ancient Magic shimmered faintly around certain individuals. Talent. Potential. Instability.
Perfect.
The first was easy.
A young Auror.
Daniel Mercer.
Ambitious. Frustrated. Talented—but overlooked.
I found him alone, late at night, in one of MACUSA's lower training halls. He moved through spell drills with aggression, each cast sharper than the last, as if trying to prove something to someone who wasn't there.
I stepped forward silently.
"You're wasting your time."
He spun instantly, wand raised, reflexes sharp.
"Who—"
His words cut off.
Because he couldn't see me.
Not fully.
Just a distortion.
A presence.
"…Show yourself," he demanded.
I allowed it.
Slowly, I let the invisibility peel away—not fully, just enough for him to see my outline.
Fear flickered in his eyes.
Good.
Fear meant he understood.
"You're talented," I said calmly. "But talent means nothing in a system that doesn't reward it."
His grip tightened.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know everything I need to."
A flick of my wand—
His last three spell patterns replayed in the air, reconstructed perfectly from memory.
His stance.
His hesitation.
His inefficiencies.
His eyes widened.
"…How—"
"You hesitate on your third cast," I continued smoothly. "You overcommit your magical output on defensive spells. And you're being held back by superiors who fear what you might become."
Silence.
Then—
"…What do you want?"
There it was.
Not denial.
Not rejection.
Curiosity.
Ambition.
I smiled slightly.
"I'm offering you something MACUSA never will."
I stepped closer.
"Growth."
He joined me within the hour.
Not out of loyalty.
Not yet.
But out of desire.
That was enough.
The second recruit was different.
A researcher.
Elena Vasquez.
Brilliant. Innovative. Completely ignored.
I found her buried in magical theory texts deep within MACUSA's archive levels, scribbling notes at a frantic pace.
She didn't even notice me until I spoke.
"You're solving it incorrectly."
She froze.
"…Excuse me?"
I stepped into view, glancing at her work.
"Aetheric compression won't stabilise that structure. It will collapse under layered enchantment pressure."
Her eyes narrowed.
"That's not—"
I reached forward, tapping the parchment lightly.
The equations shifted.
Rearranged.
Perfected.
Her breath caught.
"…That's—"
"Efficient," I finished.
She stared at me.
Not with fear.
With fascination.
"…Who are you?"
"A solution."
I met her gaze directly.
"You're wasting your intellect in a system that values control over progress."
Her silence said everything.
"You want to create," I continued. "To push magic further. To evolve it."
A pause.
Then—
"…Yes."
"Then come with me."
She didn't hesitate.
The third…
Was dangerous.
Marcus Hale.
Duelist.
Unstable.
Powerful.
The kind of wizard most systems tried to suppress.
Which made him perfect for me.
I found him exactly where I expected—
In an underground dueling ring.
Illegal.
Unregulated.
Crowded with spectators who craved violence.
He stood in the center, wand in hand, his opponent already on the ground.
Broken.
Bleeding.
"…Next," he said coldly.
I stepped forward.
"I'll take that."
His eyes locked onto mine instantly.
A predator recognising another.
"…You don't look like you belong here."
"Neither do you."
A smirk.
Then—
He attacked.
Fast.
Brutal.
Efficient.
Three spells in rapid succession.
I didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even raise my wand.
The spells bent.
Curved around me like I wasn't there.
His expression changed.
Interest.
Now I raised my wand.
One motion.
One silent spell.
He froze mid-step, body locked in place.
Not paralysed.
Controlled.
Perfectly.
I walked toward him slowly.
"You rely on instinct," I said quietly. "But instinct without refinement is wasted potential."
His jaw tightened.
"…What are you?"
"Your opportunity."
I released him.
He didn't attack again.
He joined me too.
Within days…
I had more.
Not many.
But enough.
A foundation.
An American branch of my future empire.
Aurors.
Researchers.
Duelists.
Each one chosen carefully.
Each one valuable.
We met in secret.
An abandoned structure far from MACUSA's reach, layered in wards of my own design—far superior to anything they could detect.
I stood before them, my presence no longer hidden.
They watched me.
Some cautious.
Some eager.
All curious.
"MACUSA teaches control," I began calmly.
"It teaches limitation."
"It teaches obedience."
I let the silence settle.
"I offer something different."
My magic pulsed slightly—not aggressively, but enough for them to feel it.
Power.
Real power.
"I offer growth."
"I offer evolution."
"I offer a world where your strength determines your place—not politics, not bloodline, not bureaucracy."
Their attention sharpened.
Hooked.
Good.
"We are not yet an army," I continued.
"We are not yet a force."
"But we will be."
I stepped forward slightly.
"And when that time comes…"
My voice lowered.
"We will not follow the world."
"We will reshape it."
Silence.
Then—
One by one—
They knelt.
Not out of fear.
Not out of compulsion.
But choice.
I looked at them.
My first American circle.
The beginning of something far greater.
A slow smile formed on my lips.
"Rise."
And as they did…
I knew.
This was how it began.
Not with war.
Not with destruction.
But with ambition.