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"My Lord… what are we doing here?" Thibault Nott asked. "This is a muggle house."
"Obviously," Voldemort said. He was leaning over a cabinet that had a curved glass front, but nothing displayed behind it. Thibault did not understand why one would have such a beautiful piece of glass without putting a priceless ornament behind it. Perhaps his Lord had already stolen it? But why did he want a muggle valuable? "See to it that there is enough seating. I wish for everyone in the Inner Circle to see the screen.
"Screen, my Lord?"
"This is a viewing screen that muggles use. I wish for my Inner Circle to understand something."
"Something they can only learn from… muggles?" Thibault asked, his mind boggled.
"Indeed. Do we not learn lessons from ants? From owls? From cats? How then could we not learn from the most successful animals on the planet?"
Thibault found this hard to refute. He began to transfigure the furniture in the room into chairs, all alike except for one more comfortable and ornate than the rest, in the centre. He vanished all of the excess furnishings.
The Dark Lord asked for his arm, and pressed the Dark Mark, calling his Inner Circle, who popped into the room quickly. It was just after nine in the evening, on a Sunday, an unusual meeting time. They all seemed as puzzled by the strange location as Thibault himself, though they didn't dare ask. Few of them were as close to the Dark Lord as the man who had been the first to recognise Tom Riddle's brilliance at Hogwarts.
"Be seated, my friends," Lord Voldemort said, once they had arrived. Then he cast some spell on the glass-fronted cabinet, and suddenly a voice came out of it. When the Dark Lord sat down, they could see there had been a portrait concealed inside the cabinet, and now it was revealed. But a strange portrait. It looked like a group of men, lined up in desks, staring at glowing boxes in front of them.
"Give us a reading on the twelve oh two program alarm. Roger. We've got you. We're going at alarm." the strange portrait said. Then, shockingly, the entire portrait changed. Now it was a strangely shaped firework, with words in front of it that read.
5:57
TIME TO MOON LANDING
Simulation
The incomprehensible words continued, and Corvus Lestrange finally asked, "Master? What is this?"
"These are muggles. Some of them are in London, and some of them are in Houston, one of them is in orbit around the moon, and two of them are about to land on the moon."
"The moon?" Thibault asked. "But… they don't have magic!"
"No. Which is why it takes so many of them to do it. Now watch. They are making history."
Thibault watched, transfixed, bewildered. He had taken Muggle Studies, ("Know your enemy," his grandmother had told him.) but it had not prepared him for muggles who could send people to a place where there was no life. No ether. Not even air to breathe!
"Tranquility base, the eagle has landed."
From those words though, hours passed before the muggles actually stepped out onto the moon. A man on the portrait glass demonstrated the protective armour that the muggle would have to wear to keep him alive. Extraordinary! The wizards began discussing among themselves what sort of enchantments might work better, and more conveniently.
Thibault was entranced by the idea of going to the moon, but even more so by the very device they were using - imagine if wizards could send their own likenesses around the world like these muggles did! Some of the pictures, like the man displaying the armour, were very clear, and in colour, while the ones from the moon voyagers were grainy and difficult to make out.
It was nearly 4 am when they saw the muggle climb down a ladder, and speak the words that Thibault knew he would never forget. One small step for a man. One giant leap for all muggles.
And wizards were left behind.
Finally their Lord turned off the television.
"The muggles have surpassed us."
The room went perfectly quiet.
"They have surpassed us, and this is unacceptable."