Breaking Façade

Chapter 3 -Connections-

Excerpt from the dissertation of Dr. H. Granger, MSc MB.

On: "The acceptance and inclusion of mutants as part of magical culture and society."

As presented to the Magical United Nations on the 26th of April 2013

Magic. Magic is chaos. Magic follows some rules, yes. But only arbitrarily. Because of this it is generally difficult to extrapolate what the consequences of large scale magic use will be. In olden days, when battles between large tribes of magic users took place, not many were interested in the environmental aftermath. There are some references to the usage of Stonehenge and the way Druidic practices coated the land, made it more alive. Sadly all traces of that are gone. But it brings up one important point.

Magic is, in its most base form, energy. And with enough outside influence or the right tools, energy can be changed or be harnessed. No change will be permanent, eventually it will revert back to its base form. But for the time it is present, it causes change. The same can be said of humans, the earth and possibly the universe. But energy is unending. The shells that house it, most definitely are not. In the case of the human shell, it is only truly ended by death. Most all other changes, that do not result in death, will tend to stick.

When talking of the immutability of magic in spells, there is one quite perfect example. The patronus charm is one of high power. It takes magic's energy and changes it, by the will and intent of the caster, into a guardian of sorts. After it has been cast it cannot be changed, it can only revert back to its base form, that of magic. This also neatly provides a vital clue on how magic operates. Magic is formed by intent coming from the right instrument, in this case the magical being putting forward the intent. Wands were not the end all, be all of magic use. Magic was used by many beings and creatures, before the first witch had even thought of using some wood to make her more powerful.

Therefore intent is the main part of transmuting magic to suit your needs. At the same time, intent usually comes from one person at a time. And this intent is meant for one small, in the scale of things, effect. After the intent has been met, the wish fulfilled, the magic reverts back to its base form.

Now imagine the scale of the first and second World War. Magic was used with the same intent by wizards throughout many countries for a long period of time. This intent was never to cause harm, there were exceptions to that rule, obviously, but on the grand scale of magic-use they meant less than nothing. No, magic was used to cause change. It is quite easy for us to classify actions and reactions as good and bad. But one thing that mustn't be forgotten is that every side of any conflict wholeheartedly believes that they are in the right. They walk the righteous path. They are doing what is necessary to force change unto a world that needs it.

So imagine the slight prod, into the energy that is magic, by casting a patronus charm. The process of mutating magic into a charm, letting it run its course and then reverting back into magic, takes maybe a couple of minutes. Now imagine multiple years of thousands of people continuously casting a patronus charm, saturating whole areas with magic and intent. Then imagine tens of thousands of people with no specific magic, but with a similar gene, with the intent of protecting or being safe. All that magic, formed to the intent of those around it could create untold destruction or untold beauty. None can ever be entirely sure what would happen in such a scenario.

Now take the above example and add to it a more abstract intent. The intent of change to happen. Not the minute specifics of a child who is hungry and wishes to change that. But the more powerful core intent of changing a situation for not just yourself, but for all who suffer it. To change the world into a better place.

Magic is energy. Energy is not sentient and even if it were, who is to say it would understand anything but the most base concepts of human intent? And when wishing for a change that deeply, our primal sides will automatically want this change to be beneficial to ourselves. Combine this primal want of beneficial change to mean something for itself, with the more modern human side who can show a greater degree of abstraction and use intent.

I propose that, because of the similarities of this truly massive use of intent, magic was wild. Looking for a target, looking to change something, anything. So that it could revert back to its base state. Combined with the primal wish for survival, the change happened on a molecular level. People were given the power to survive because they wished it. That, in my opinion, is what we are seeing today. The legacy of that one, primal, intent.

There is no ego, there is only survival.

September 30th 2008

Harry appeared on his feet in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, falling to his knees immediately. He managed to weakly call out for Kreacher, before succumbing to his injuries and passing out. Said house elf popped in at the request, looked around, and had only one thing on his mind. "Master is ruining the carpet!" Kreacher shrieked in joy. After not getting the expected response he focussed his attention away from the bloodstains slowly turning the carpet...more blood red?

Muttering to himself Kreacher levitated Harry towards the master bedroom. "Foolish master...always makes trouble and never enough messes... who has to make cleanings again today...Kreacher does! Kreacher takes care of master so master can make more messes. " After he gently lay Harry on the bed and magicked the covers over him. Kreacher gleefully went downstairs to make sure the blood red carpet didn't turn any more or less blood red, all the while cackling quite insanely.

October 1st 2008

Ronald Weasley was happy. There was nothing to not be happy about after all, he had his dream job to go to. His friends were in a good place, or in the case of Harry in as good as a place as could be expected, and his family was growing. Fleur and Bill having had their second child not two years ago. Little Dominique had, like her sister, her father and grandfather wrapped around her little finger. Little Molly, Percy's daughter, and little Fred were growing up quite fast as well. It was good to see the healing done to his mother and father with every birth. Soon they lost themselves in doting on their grandchildren. And, quite a happy coincidence, stopped bugging him about finding a nice girl and settling down. Bloody hell, the thought alone was scary enough, he was only now learning to actually live. He did not need someone else in his life right now. It was weird, none of the old golden trio had actually settled down. And none of them felt the need to.

"All right guys, two more laps and we're on to a skirmish match. Only chasers this time, so practice your passes!" He shouted towards his team...HIS team ha! Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would become part of the Chudley legacy. It truly was a dream come true.

To be honest it took him a long time to come into his own. That was something Ron had figured out and accepted. During his years at Hogwarts he was a follower. Not that there was anything wrong with that, especially with all the insane stuff Hermione, Harry and himself got up to. Ron was not capable of functioning under stress. But give him time to plan, to strategise, and magic happened.

The whole reason he got the job was because of chess if you can believe it. Ragmar Dorkins had been the Chudley's manager for a long time. His office was full of Chudley Cannon paraphernalia, which Ron obviously approved of whole heartedly, there was no better colour then Chudley orange. Amongst all the posters, cups, flags( and for some reason a really weird looking completely orange tapestry that was supposed to show all the members of the team, going back to the very beginning), there was a chess set. Not surprisingly, it was also orange. The game had been frozen in time as the boss man wasn't able to find the necessary moves to make to actually finish it. Ron had been summoned up to the office and after basking in the glorious orangeness of it all, couldn't help but notice the chess set. And in true Ron fashion couldn't help but finish the game. He was distracted enough that he didn't notice Mr. Dorkins come in. The man watched Ron finish the game and after that made him assistant coach. "Funny, how things work out at times" Ron thought with a small smile on his face.

"All right people! Another half an hour of working on team tactics, starting off with beaters against chasers. That mean's evasive manoeuvring Dragomir!" He shouted towards the one chaser with a weird fetish for letting himself get hit by the bludgers. It really was no wonder the team had been in the bottom for so long. But not for much longer if it was up to him, one more season of hard training and they should be able to give more of a fight to the other teams, he was sure.

After a last strategy meeting, in which Ron finally got the chance to use the interactive board Hermione got him for his birthday, he sent the team towards the locker rooms to clean up before going home. Ron stored his broom in the shed and apparated towards the Burrow. One thing that he just could not do was cook, thankfully his mum never complained about that.

Landing in the middle of the garden, and scaring five chickens half to death (the poor things never got used to that). He walked into, what would always be, his home. The Burrow was much more quiet these days. During the week Ron or his siblings would randomly come over to keep their mum and dad company, it had become somewhat of a tradition after the war. The weekends were usually busier, with the multitude of grandkids running around. It almost made the Burrow feel like when he was growing up. Walking into the kitchen, giving his mum a kiss on the cheek he went to sit down at the kitchen table. "Oh hello Ron, dear. How was work today?" Molly asked. "Not too bad, I think I almost have gotten Dragomir out of the habit of flying towards the bludgers instead of avoiding them. And Galvin is actually managing to catch the snitch more often than not these days" Ron told her happily. Molly hummed appreciatively whilst managing to stir three pots and checking the oven at the same time.

"Have you read today's Prophet dear? Dreadful news, simply dreadful!" Molly asked whilst nodding her head towards the newspaper lying folded on a corner of the table. Ron quite honestly gave up on reading the rag after the years of war were over. Nothing completely truthful was ever in there, so what was the use? He had actually, thanks in large part to Hermione, found himself reading The Independent. A real muggle, no mundane, newspaper! And it was incredible, Hermione had even told him that there where many more like it. Some more like the Prophet, some more like the Quibbler. But more than just the two the Wizarding world had. It was quite the reveal to Ron.

After Hermione became disillusioned with life in the Wizarding world she and him lost contact for a while. He never had much chance of emerging himself in the mugg..mundane world and, quite honestly, understood very little of it. He made an effort, mostly through his dad, over the last few years to gain an understanding of how things worked. Specifically to understand Hermione better, but also out of pure curiosity of what could get a witch to leave her own community to go back to life without magic. He just didn't understand. Over the last few years Hermione and Ron had a couple of heated discussions about the society he grew up in. And while it at first her opinions greatly pissed him off, after thinking on it he had to admit to the faults present in current Wizarding culture.

Still, getting curious to what had his mum so worried, he picked up the Prophet and read the front page article. Thankfully it wasn't written by that ...Skeeter.

Is our protective Magic failing?

By: Dervinda Greymist

For over 700 years the wards on Diagon Alley have held strong. The magic protecting our busiest shopping alley has been present to keep muggles out and it has always worked. Occasionally a small child would wander in. One who would in later years receive his or her Hogwarts letter. This is to be expected, of course.

But during all this time, never has a full muggle simply walked through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley itself. Impossible you say, well not any more. Late yesterday afternoon a muggle did exactly that! I know readers must be as shocked as I was when I first heard the news, but it is true. And it gets worse.

This reporter, obviously, had to investigate this, what seemed at the time, ludicrous claim. When first hearing of it, it sounded like nothing more than a story made up by one of Tom's more inebriated customers. But to my surprise, the story was corroborated by none other than Mr. Ollivander, Mr. Fortesque and Madam Malkins themselves!

This reporter has taken the time to reconstruct the story as accurately as possible. Around what seemed to be teatime a young girl , completely dressed in muggle clothing, walked into the Leaky Cauldron as any of us would do, after catching a ride on the Knight bus. After looking around for a while she followed an unsuspecting wizard through the back alley into Diagon alley itself.

What follows next is slightly unclear, but apparently after walking around for a while she came to Gringots. There she started screaming and shouting at the guard Goblins standing at the front of the bank. When she progressed to throwing objects at the guards, one vigilant witch or wizard decided that the aurors should be called before the next Goblin war would start of right then and there.

When the aurors apparated in near the girl, bystanders described her getting even more frightened. It was at that point apparent that she would not be calmed, therefore one of the aurors decided that stunning her would be preferable. When the stunning spell left his wand, the girl started glowing according to eye witnesses. What followed was a massive explosion that took out many a window and knocked all people in the vicinity down to the ground. One sharp eyed wizard saw the girl running in the direction of Knockturn alley. She has not yet been found.

After the incident, aurors tried magic detection spells on the location where the girl was standing. But all readings for that location came up negative. The girl, so it seems, had no magic to speak of! This reporter has tried contacting the DMLE, but no response has been given. If more news on this situation becomes available it will be brought to you first!

For the reactions of the Goblins, see page 4

For a brief overview of the history of Diagon alley, see page 6

Ron slowly put the paper down, not sure on whether to dismiss the story out of hand or to be as worried as his mother seemed to be. The strange, magical like powers, seemed to register in his mind in connection to something else he had read about in the muggle newspaper. But he couldn't place it exactly. Looking towards his mum, he decided the Prophet was just sensationalising things again, the auror in question had probably miscast the magic detection spell and contaminated the scene. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about mum. It's probably just the Prophet being the Prophet again. And, look at it this way, even if something was going on in Diagon, at least the aurors are aware of it. So they'll work it out". Ron said, trying to reassure his mother. Molly looked at Ron, still with a slight worry lurking in her eyes. "That may be so, but it's still a worrisome thought. But I suppose you're right". "Could you call your father in for dinner, dear? He's out in his shed again. " And with that question, life in the Weasley household returned to normal.

One of the few times the Prophet actually reported somewhat accurately it was barely believed. Most of Ron's generation had lost faith in the Wizarding paper. Not enough to stop reading it, but at the very least to take everything in it with a pot of salt.

October 4th 2008

Saturday afternoon found Ron with an armful of tiny children all begging him for a piggy back ride. The Burrow was filled to the brim with his brothers, sister, their wives and kids. Ron, being the gentle giant that he was, had been playing with all his nieces and nephews for the last 3 hours. And he was feeling his age. "Sorry, oh tiny ones, your uncle Ron is getting a bit tired. Maybe you can try one of your dads to come out and play with you" All that answer got him was three pouting faces and a kick to the shin. While Ron was hopping around on one foot, the kids quickly found their next target as grandma Molly came out with freshly baked biscuits. "Bloody hell... tiny demons" Ron muttered as he sat down to a disproving look from Molly and knowing looks on the faces of the other parents.

Whilst the kids were happily munching on the biscuits, the adults where quietly talking amongst themselves. Ginny looked up from her conversation with Luna and asked Ron if he had heard anything from Harry or Hermione lately. "Not really" Ron said. "I know Hermione is busy with a research project, we occasionally meet up for lunch. Last time she was talking about meeting some really important science-tist, something to do with her job. Didn't really get the importance, but she seemed excited." Ron frowned."Haven't heard anything from Harry in a while, but you know how he gets. If I haven't heard anything by Monday, I'll probably pop by after work." Molly snapped to attention at hearing Harry's name "Make sure you do dear, and invite him and Hermione over. The both of them just do not take good enough care of themselves, a couple of home cooked meals and company will do them good". Ron agreed, and said as much.

Harry was not doing fine. Actually, fine was out of the window. Harry was feeling like shit. His head hadn't stopped pounding since Tuesday and after the beating he took by those two mundanes the rest of his body wasn't in any better shape. Besides that he thought he might be coming down with something, his magic had been acting funny the last couple of days. Though that could just be the headache that kept on threatening to spill over in a massive migraine.

He had owled his boss to tell her he was taking some time off to get over a sickness. But he was worried, Kreacher kept looking at him funny. More funny than usual for the senile old elf, that is. Harry always had a multitude of healing potions stockpiled, a left over habit from his days with the aurors. They healed his body up well enough. According to his own medical advice, all he needed now was bed rest. So he slept, fitfully. All the while not noticing his magic changing his body to a massive degree.

Eleanor was scared. She had been scared for over a week now, after blasting her abusive foster mum across the room, she ran away. Then she got lost in London, found a weird pub. Went through the looking glass and hadn't found a way out yet. After the weird teleporting people with sticks tried to shoot something at her she had snapped, again. She just couldn't understand what was happening. And now she was kidnapped by some strange looking hag who kept her in a small, dark room, tied to a chair without windows or access to any of the most basic commodities.

There might have been other kids here, she thought she heard at least one. But his screams did anything but comfort her. "Not the nails!... Don't take my teeth!" She had blocked him out after that. As she heard a shuffling near, what she assumed, was the door. Her heart rate started rising, panic started setting in and she had few options. She couldn't fight, she couldn't flee...all she could do was freeze and hope...pray for someone to rescue her.

On Knockturn alley, aurors gave up questioning the paranoid residents as a lost cause. As they made their way back to Diagon Alley, one of them could've sworn she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a hag peddling fingers and teeth. The fingers had nails with what looked like muggle nail polish on them. But as she turned around the hag had been swallowed up by the shifty masses of Knockturn. And she dismissed the idea completely.