James Potter and the White Horse

Chapter 2: Of Magic and Muggles

Knobbles, the Potters´ house-elf, had prepared a regular banquet for all of the visitors, even though he had only been asked to provide a light brunch. He was getting quite old, even for a house elf, but couldn´t stand the thought of the Potters easing his responsibilities. Lately, he had become terribly suspicious of anything that appeared, even remotely, to be coddling. The family simply couldn´t win trying to do right by the old elf. They worried about the strain he put himself under, but anything they tried to do to help only insulted him and encouraged him to work even harder. All they could do was thank him as often as possible. He would always shrug it off, saying something like, "Knobbles is only doing his job." Still, they knew him well enough to see that he appreciated it.

The food was wonderful, as always, but for once James wasn´t overly interested in eating. That is, of course, not to say that he skipped food; he just scoffed it down so quickly that he hardly tasted it. His father had always teased him about his ravenous appetite. "He must have a fair amount of magic in him," Henry liked to say. "He can make food disappear like no one I´ve ever seen." James would pause just long enough to look up and roll his eyes before returning to the task at hand. Fortunately, James was active enough that no matter how much he ate, he never got even slightly chubby. In fact, he was so wiry that his grandmother Guen always seemed concerned that he wasn´t eating enough.

Brian had eaten his fill nearly as quickly as James and the two were soon in his bedroom looking through all of his gifts. Knobbles had taken the liberty of putting them all there while the family was eating. James´ rooms were in the tower just northeast of his parents--close enough for them to keep an eye on him but isolated enough for him to have some privacy. They were high enough that he was glad not to have had to lug all his stuff up there himself.

Brian was busy showing James how to use the secret compartment in his cauldron when they heard Gavin coming. He was still a ways off, but they had no difficulty hearing the echo of his shouts. "Hey, are you up here? James? Brian? What are you doing?" Brian sighed and rolled his eyes at James, who just grinned back and then turned his eyes to the invisibility cloak. Neither of them had ever used one before, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity. James grabbed the cloak and the two boys made for the door. Brian opened it as silently as he could and shut it just as carefully when they had passed through. They managed to get the cloak on and get out of the way just before Gavin´s head appeared in the circular stairwell. When he went to the door, the invisible boys slipped behind him and down the stairs.

They heard Gavin knock on the door and call into James´ room. "Come on! Let me in!" he pleaded. "I know you´re in there. Your mum said so." When Gavin was silent for a few seconds, James and Brian froze in their tracks to make sure they heard him if he started coming down. Instead they heard him call out one final time in desperation, "James! Why won´t you ever play with me? Why do you hate me?" This time Gavin sounded close to tears. James felt a pang of guilt and was tempted for a moment to go back and get Gavin. He quickly pushed the thought away though, convincing himself that Gavin would only get more upset if he found out that they had intentionally avoided him. Better to get away so he would think they hadn´t been in the room at all. Besides, he thought, there´s no way Gavin could really be as upset as he sounded. He was probably just putting on an act, trying to take advantage of James´ compassion. It only took him a moment to decide that he wouldn´t be fooled by Gavin´s crybaby act. He and Brian turned and quickly made their way to the bottom of the tower.

They decided to explore the corridors of the fortress shrouded by the cloak. Both boys were curious to see if the paintings acted differently when they thought there was no one around. As they went, they passed through the great room, entering quietly through a door that had been left ajar. They almost failed to notice James´ father and his uncle, Lee, who were talking softly in the corner of the room. James signalled to Brian under the cloak that they should go over and surprise the two men. They quietly crept toward the chairs where Henry and Lee were sitting and when they got close enough, they could hear bits of their low conversation.

"You couldn´t save him then?" whispered Henry.

"No," replied Lee in a tired voice clearly filled with frustration. "This is the sixth we´ve had to deal with, the third in a month, but it´s the first we couldn´t revive. Whoever is doing this is getting better at it with each attempt. Today he succeeded in killing a man."

James and Brian stopped dead in their tracks. Brian gave James a look that clearly said he thought they ought to leave, but James signalled to him to wait. The conversation continued.

"And the Aurors don´t have any idea what´s going on?" asked Henry.

"They don´t have any suspects. No one who survived remembers having seen or heard the assailant, so they don´t even have a physical description to go on." Lee sighed.

Henry looked surprised. "Surely, they´ve been able to piece together some sort of profile for this killer after six incidents."

"In every case a Muggle was targeted in a public place. Dozens saw the green flash of the death curse, but none could identify its source." Lee paused for a moment, thinking. "There were no other similarities they could find. The victims and locations seemed to be picked at random."

"Wonderful," replied Henry sarcastically. "You´re saying that there is some mad Muggle-hater out there with a penchant for murder and creating public hysteria."

"That´s what the Aurors thought at first," said Lee quietly. "But this one... He´s too careful, too methodical. If he just wanted Muggles dead, why risk the crowd? And if he wanted to create hysteria, why just the single curse? Besides, the crowds have always been manageable. Granted, I don´t envy the Obliviators their job. Modifying all those memories was a tough job I´m sure. All the same, it was always well within their capabilities. It doesn´t seem like he wants what he´s doing to get out. And with no real leads to report, the Ministry of Magic has been obliged to keep this all under wraps."

James suddenly realized that he had stopped breathing. With great effort he was able to open his airways and take a silent, cautious breath. Although he was beginning to wish that he hadn´t stuck around to hear all of this, at this point he was frozen in place. As much effort as it had taken just to inhale, he didn´t think he could have moved if he tried. Glancing sidelong at Brian, he had the impression that his cousin was similarly paralysed.

"Lee," pressed Henry, leaning forward. "What is going on with all of this? You clearly know more than you´ve said; and you must want to tell me or you wouldn´t have brought it up. What´s this really about, Lee?"

Lee relented. "Alastor has a theory he´s been pushing from the beginning. With his reputation for blowing things out of all proportion, most everyone ignored him until recently. The continued attacks have forced the Ministry to take him seriously." It was clear that Lee found this theory so profoundly disturbing that he was having difficulty getting it out. "He believes that the attacker is an assassin in training, that he is just...rehearsing. Alastor, who is something of an expert on the Unforgivable Curses, thinks that an intelligent would-be killer might well use this kind of preparation to guarantee success in a more important, and more dangerous, later attempt...likely an attempt on a wizard."

After a short pause to take in what Lee was suggesting, Henry spoke. "I´m not sure what to say. I appreciate your trust, Lee. I´m troubled of course, but I wish I could say I was more surprised. The cases I have been involved with recently have been getting progressively more unpleasant." James´ father was an Advocate, a wizard trained in magical law who represented both accused and accusers at trial. James knew that over the past several months his father had seemed more fatigued by the cases to which he was assigned, but had no idea that he was this disturbed by them.

Henry continued, "I am increasingly convinced that there is in fact a rising darkness in our world. Others who have said so of late have been labelled fear-mongers, who see conspiracies in every shadow. Although it is subtle and elusive, I feel it encroaching on our security. We try to conceal it so that we can go about our lives normally, but I fear that it is thriving on the darkness that our secrecy allows it. By permitting it to remain hidden to protect our world from fear, we may be allowing it to bide its time until it can inspire panic."

There was what felt like a long pause before Henry spoke again. "I´m sorry if I sound like I´m lecturing you. I guess I´ve just needed to get that off my chest for a while and I can´t help doing it as though I´m arguing in court."

Lee laughed half-heartedly. "That´s alright, Henry," he said. "I do agree with you. That´s why I´m telling as many people as I know I can trust. There have to be those who are prepared."

"I assume Dad knows," said Henry after another silence.

Lee actually smiled sincerely for the first time since James had been observing the conversation. "Dad knows everything that goes on at the Ministry. I´m sure he´s known since the beginning. He wouldn´t tell us about it anymore than you´d tell your children." James shivered involuntarily. "I think he was concerned when they finally let me know what was going in case that knowledge could help me more effectively treat the victims. We haven´t talked about it, but I see it in his eyes whenever there´s an attack."

At that moment, the tenseness in the room was shattered suddenly as Gavin burst in. "Uncle Henry," he practically shouted, "do you know where James is? I can´t find him anywhere!" James and Brian took advantage of the noise of Gavin´s account of his search for them to escape from the great room. They quickly found a spare room where they could leave the invisibility cloak.

"Let´s get Bridget and your cousin and go play Quidditch," suggested Brian, who seemed to want to do something that would shake that conversation from his head. James, who was still distracted by it, just nodded his head absentmindedly.

They bumped into the somewhat dejected looking Gavin just outside the great room. "Where´ve you been, kid?" asked James playfully. "We´ve been looking all over for you."

Gavin´s countenance lifted considerably. "I´ve been looking for you."

James put his hand on Gavin´s shoulder and led him down the corridor. "Want to come practice Quidditch with us?"

The younger boy was so surprised by the unusual offer that all he could do was shake his head vigorously in consent. They soon found Bridget, who was only too happy to be liberated from the company of the older women. James grabbed four brooms and a large red ball called a Quaffle from a pantry before leading the group outside. They didn´t have enough people for a full-fledged game of Quidditch, the most popular magical sport in the world, so they opted for a simpler, but similar, game. In one area of the courtyard, there was a single tall bronze pole with a ring on the top, quite a few metres above the ground. They split into teams of two and tried to score by sending the ball through their opponent´s side of the ring. The first team to ten would win. They played for hours, switching partners every game and pausing occasionally to drink the cold pumpkin juice that Knobbles brought for them. It was clear that Bridget was the best player of the group and that Gavin needed a lot more practice, but they all managed to have fun. Evening eventually fell and the tired group abandoned the game. All of the other visitors had already left, but the children stayed for dinner before going back to their respective homes through the fireplace.

When James went to bed that night, he had a hard time getting to sleep. His mind was reeling with the excitement of the day, and the promise of a whole day with his grandfather. More than anything else though, the disturbing conversation he had overheard kept haunting his thoughts. The idea that people close to him were close to such danger and darkness was terribly disquieting to him. His uncle´s statement about being prepared struck him the most. There was part of him that felt that he too ought to be ready for possible danger, able to protect those around him. But how could he do anything as young as he was? How could he be in control of events around him? A strange, indistinct anxiety crept over him. His attempts to quiet his thoughts and go to sleep were largely fruitless.

When sleep finally overtook him, it was fitful and dream-filled. In the most disturbing dream, he was a stone statue completely unable to move. He looked around and saw that he was standing in the great room of the fortress. He was surrounded by his family, as he had been that morning, except that none of them were smiling or looking at him. There was a flash of green and he was atop his rock surrounded by the ocean, which seemed to be rising around him. In the distance, he thought he saw a castle, rising like a ghost from the water. Another blaze of green light and he was next to Grandfather Alfred on the top of a green hill, the bearded man staring out into the distance. The flashes were coming more quickly now, and each was brighter than the last. The next one brought him back to his own bedroom, but it was grim and bare. A thin, tired-looking man with black hair, who James didn´t recognize but who somehow seemed familiar, stood expressionless by the window. He barely had the chance to look at that tortured face before another flash erased the scene. He found himself in a cold forest at night, the eerie glow of moonlight making long shadows. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark shape creep behind him. Just before the next flash, he heard a howl of pain. The images were now shifting much more quickly and he couldn´t get more than a brief impression of what he was seeing. A house... a girl... a Quidditch pitch... Brian and Bridget.... Each violent flare of green was accompanied by a cold and painful sense of loss. Finally, he turned his gaze away from his surroundings. It fell on his own stone hand, holding a wand. He was stunned to see that the next flash of green issued from his own wand. This time it didn´t go away. Once it had consumed everything he could see, it just got brighter and brighter. Finally, all he could see was blinding green light and all he could hear was a distant scream. Just as he realized that the voice was his own, James bolted awake in bed.

He was covered in a cold sweat and was breathing heavily. Looking up, he saw his grandfather standing placidly on the other side of the room looking down on him. The warm light from the newly risen sun glowing through the window made him seem to almost glow with consolation. James was quickly calmed by his grandfather´s peaceful countenance.

"You´ve clearly had a most powerful dream, James," commented the old man after a few moments of silence. "Take a moment to sort it out. Dreams can be very important, and very useful, even if somewhat disturbing."

"Do you think it means something?" asked James, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice.

"I wouldn´t presume to say," Alfred said as he made his way slowly to the boy´s bedside. "Dreams are very personal. You will have to determine the importance of this one on your own and in your own time." He put his hand reassuringly on his grandson´s shoulder and continued. "For the present, we have a busy day ahead of us and should get started. I´ll meet you in the dining hall when you are ready." With that, the old man disappeared from the room.

James took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, regaining his composure and putting the dream out of his thoughts for the moment. When he had suppressed the images sufficiently, he rose to get dressed. He was fine until he went to wrap his plain green robes around his jeans and t-shirt. The fluttering green of the fabric surrounding him was nearly too much for James. Taking another deep breath, he quickly switched into dark brown robes and raced down the stairs to the dining hall. His grandfather was at the table and had already started on the breakfast that Knobbles had set out for them. He might have waited for James if he didn´t know that the boy could finish his whole meal in the time it took him to eat a piece of toast. It took James slightly longer than usual to eat because he kept pausing to try to find out what was planned for the day. Alfred seemed to be in no hurry to let James in on the itinerary and just kept eating. When they had both finished, the older man stood and began walking out of the room. Uncertain whether he should follow or wait, James stayed in his chair. Without looking back, Alfred called to him, "Well, are you coming or aren´t you?" James was on his feet and at his grandfather´s side in an instant.

The two of them made their way to the front hall of the fortress keep. Alfred went to a closet and pulled out two brooms, handing one to James, whose eyes lit up. He had been forbidden to go any further than his rock and was thrilled at the prospect of flying all the way to London. "We´re going to fly?" he asked excitedly.

"No," replied Alfred with a smile. "We are going to sweep the entire fortress." He continued walking toward the front double doors, which opened before him.

James laughed. "If Knobbles heard you say the fortress needed sweeping, he wouldn´t sleep for a week." He quickly mounted his broom and shot out the doors past his grandfather, who caught up with him remarkably quickly. James hadn´t considered that on a broom, the old man´s speed wasn´t hindered by his age as it was on the ground.

"Did you think you were the only Potter who could fly one of these?" asked Alfred teasingly as he sped off to the east. James saw this as a challenge and raced to catch up. When he had matched speeds, he barrel rolled over his grandfather to show that he was capable of holding his own in the air. He didn´t even notice that they had already gone further from the fortress than he had ever been on a broom.

The long ride at high speed didn´t afford much opportunity for conversation, so the two wizards passed the time with aeronautical one-upmanship. While James clearly had the advantage of energy and agility, Alfred´s experience was considerable and showed. Before too long however, James began to tire. He hadn´t considered how draining it would be to simply stay in the air so long. Even without the effort of showing off, a certain level of physical exertion had to be maintained just to hold the broom steady and guide it through the sky. James had never had to sustain flight for so long and he was beginning to better appreciate Quidditch players who could keep up in a fierce match that lasted for hours or longer. Too exhausted to enjoy tricks anymore, James turned his attention to the scenery, but the endless ocean views held little interest for him. His boredom was beginning to make him aware of his aching muscles when the granite cliffs of Land´s End in Cornwall appeared on the horizon, breaking the monotony. "Land!" he shouted happily.

Although they weren´t invisible, there was little chance of being seen by Muggles on the ground. Long-distance brooms were always enchanted with Muggle Distraction Charms, so that any Muggle who chanced to look up would be subtly influenced to look elsewhere. No enchantment that affected Muggles was foolproof--there was too much unpredictability when dealing with humans--so Alfred was always careful not to tempt fate with unnecessary risk. As such, the two wizards took a rather circuitous route towards London, avoiding as much as possible any area of dense population. The countryside they passed over was amazingly diverse and beautiful to James, a dramatic contrast with the endless seascapes that he was accustomed to.

Travelling up the peninsula, they stayed primarily above the wild moorlands, which were dominated by wide, sweeping expanses, supporting only low grass and heather. This seemed sufficient for the handful of ponies that James spotted grazing peacefully on the hillsides. James also noticed great granite boulders on the moor standing exposed by ages of erosion. Sometimes they were so tall, erect, and solitary that they almost looked like lonely stone men, keeping motionless watch over the moor. For the most part, these immense rocks seemed to be strewn haphazardly across the contours of the terrain. Occasionally, however, the land would rise in immense rocky tors, stacks of stone that looked like the abandoned playthings of giant children. In other areas, the soil gave way to the streams and rivers that passed through the moor, often creating small, but distinct valleys that added to the variety of the geography. As they progressed, some of these waterways began to interlace, losing their distinctness as they merged into vibrant green swamps and lagoons. As they passed over, a flock of wild birds rose in chaotic unison, disturbing the stillness of the scene, and moving northward in a cloud of wings. James followed them with his eyes until he could no longer make them out, and then turned his attention back to the landscape that seemed to be moving beneath him. The marshes eventually rose and grew into uplands sustaining first willow and red osier, then forests lush with fern and a few ancient orchards turned wild. These finally gave way to the vast, green, rolling terrain of the chalk country. As they flew, the long ranges of hills appeared to James to rise and fall underneath him like the waves of the ocean did during the many turbulent storms he had witnessed; the thin blanket of mist that still clung to the floor of some of the valleys added to the illusion. The wide vales, protected on both sides by the rising downs, were patchworked with fields of grain, tracts of wheat and barley rippling in the perpetual wind. The predominantly green landscape was sporadically interrupted by tall clusters of beech rising conspicuously from the hillsides and by bright wildflowers that marked the paths of meandering rivers that had cut through this land for ages. Although by this time James was feeling quite fatigued, he was still amazed by the beauty of the journey

Just as James was about to let his pride lose to his exhaustion and ask his grandfather if they could stop for a moment to rest, Alfred pointed to a small cluster of buildings in the distance to the north and shouted, "Follow me to the edge of that village, James. We must go quickly so we won´t be observed." With that he picked up speed considerably and began to drop towards the town. James had no choice but to take a deep breath, pull up all the stamina he had left, and pursue.

As they got closer, James could see that a good portion of the small village was on a circular tract of land. An ancient, man-made trench and an embankment of earth rising around it defined the perimeter of the circle. Although very impressive, it was clear that time had smoothed and diminished the contours of these earthworks. James imagined how imposing they must have looked when they were first created, before grass had even begun to grow on the rough and exposed slopes of the newly overturned dirt. James soon got a much closer look as he followed his grandfather down into the eastern part of the gully and then around the northern part of the loop. Just as they rose out of the ditch to pass over a road at the extreme north of the circle, James noticed an enormous, diamond-shaped boulder. It stood nearly five metres tall, and was just on the opposite side of the road. Beyond it, James could see more sarsen stones standing in a curved line along the inner edge of the ditch. These sandstone monoliths were each shaped differently, but all towered at least three metres above the ground.

Alfred flew over to one of the larger stones and landed on the grass beside it, James following close behind. Pulling out his wand and pointing it at the ground in front of the boulder, he whispered, "Desescondio." A square patch of grass suddenly opened like a door, revealing a good-sized underground compartment lined with wood. "Come, James," he said as he knelt at the side of the opening and placed his broom inside. "We´re going to have to drop a few things off here so we can blend in among the Muggles."

James´ eyes lit up. "We´re going to see Muggles?" he asked excitedly as he walked over to his grandfather and pulled off his robes.

Alfred snapped his head toward the boy. He looked frustrated, even angry "They´re people, James!" he snapped. "Don´t ever talk about them as if they were zoo animals, or inferior to you in any way. I will not tolerate such ignorance!" His voiced softened to almost a whisper. "It causes too much pain."

James was startled by the sudden change in mood. His grandfather had never spoken to him like that. All James could manage was a weak, "Yes, Grandfather," as he handed over his broom and robes. Desperate to get past the uncomfortable moments of silence, James finally turned to the boulder and asked cautiously, "Grandfather, what is this place?"

Apparently content to let the previous matter be, Alfred stood and scanned the area. He took a long, controlled breath, as if he were taking in more than just air. "No one knows, James," he said quietly. "It´s a mystery to everyone, both Muggle and magician... A relic of an ancient time, ages before our worlds were forced to separate. There are many of these stone monuments scattered across our land. This happens to be the largest, a stone circle half a kilometre in diameter. Although much of it has been destroyed, there are still boulders standing exactly where they were placed millennia ago. For me, it is a reminder that what we create can endure long after everyone has forgotten who we were. I don´t know that it has any practical use to anyone but myself. I´ve found it´s a good place to keep a few things safely hidden away, just in case."

"In case of what?" asked James, intrigued.

"Exactly, my boy," replied Alfred with a grin. "Now, we must be going. We have a bus to catch." Without further explanation he pulled out his wand and murmured, "Escondio." He turned and began walking across the grass towards the buildings at the centre of the circle before the magical stash had even finished closing. James followed him eagerly, desperate to ask his grandfather something, but completely unsure just what it was he wanted to ask.

After a short walk past several more boulders scattered across the grass and a small group of sheep grazing among them, they came up behind an old house. The white building had a thatched roof and red brick chimneys. Much of the timber framing was exposed, creating panes of various sizes in the white walls. Alfred and James came around to the front of the building, where a sign identified it as The Red Lion, an inn with a restaurant and pub. From the front, James could see that it stood on one corner of a T-junction in the roads that passed through the circle.

To James´ relief, his grandfather led him inside and ordered two lemonades. Alfred seemed content to sip his lemonade, chatting with the barman who seemed to know him well, while James guzzled down his second, third, and fourth glasses. The long flight had been much more tiring than he anticipated, but the cold drinks parched his thirst and reinvigorated him a little. As he drank, he took in his surroundings. He was quite surprised at how normal everything was; his exposure to Muggle characters in his comics and other stories had him expecting eccentric oddballs. He had somewhat hoped to be amused by people constantly doing or saying things that were completely silly and backwards. Granted, there were things he did find odd (like that ringing contraption that the bartender spoke into for a few moments), but none of it was as comical as he had thought Muggles were supposed to be.

Not long after they had both finished their lemonades, the bartender anxiously looked out the window and then down at his watch. "Get moving, man," he said excitedly. "Your bus is early." James was immediately on his feet and on his way to the door. Alfred was delayed, fumbling through his pockets until the bartender shouted at him, "Don´t worry about it. You can pay later." The old man followed James out the door, the two of them sprinting to the bus, which was hissing and grumbling as the door closed and it prepared to depart. James nearly stopped in his tracks, startled by the odd noises coming from the bus. Fortunately, his grandfather had caught him up and grabbed James´ shoulder to move him along with one hand while waving furiously at the bus driver with the other.

The bus had only gone a few metres when the driver saw Alfred and it groaned to a halt. James was again taken aback at the loud rattle that accompanied the automatic opening of the bus door. Unsure what to expect next, he was quite cautious as he followed his grandfather up the stairs and back to a pair of seats near the rear of the bus. James had never ridden in a Muggle vehicle before, and was completely absorbed in the new experience. Careful not to speak so loudly that the Muggles might hear, James badgered his grandfather with questions. How did the bus move without magic? Didn´t the constant hum that the bus made annoy the Muggles? Did the Muggles have buses that could fly? Why didn´t they always use the flying buses? Although he found all of the answers interesting, what amazed him more than anything was that his grandfather had answers to all his questions.

Finally, James asked the most pressing question on his mind, "Not that I´m complaining, Grandfather, but why are we using Muggle transportation at all?"

"Excellent question," replied Alfred. "This time, though, you ought to be able to come up with the answer on your own. Why would I take the time to show you how Muggles get around?"

A few minutes passed before James responded. He wanted to make sure he didn´t say anything stupid. In the end he said the only thing he could come up with, "Just in case."

Alfred laughed so loudly that several of the other passengers looked back at him to see what was going on. James was afraid at first that he had said something ridiculous, but was soon pleased and relieved to hear his grandfather chuckle, "Exactly, my boy. Exactly."

The bus shortly entered a more densely populated area, which Alfred identified to James as Swindon. They got off the bus in front of the town´s railway station and passed through a subway connecting the street-side entrance to the railway platforms on the other side of the tracks. The large platform where they came up was crowded with people, benches, and small station buildings. Remembering what his grandfather had said to him earlier James tried not to stare, but found it impossible. There was too much that was strange and interesting. Luckily for him, no one really seemed to notice how intently he was staring at perfectly ordinary things like the public phones. One young woman did notice James staring at her digital watch, but assumed he just wanted to know the time and kindly told him it was one o´clock.

James thanked her and looked sheepishly at his grandfather, who (he was relieved to see) wasn´t upset and said simply, "Good, our train should arrive momentarily." Sure enough, a disembodied and somewhat garbled voice soon loudly announced that a train bound for London was arriving. James tried to find the source of the odd voice, but gave up when the train came into sight down the tracks, presenting him with a much more interesting diversion. It was unlike any train James had ever seen. Not that he had seen all that many, but he had ridden a couple magical steam trains a few years back on holiday with his family. The machine that was now stopping in front of him was an almost entirely different contraption all together. It was much more smooth and sleek, almost like a giant metal snake, and James didn´t have any idea where the engine car was, if it even had one.

He stepped carefully onto the train, following his grandfather to one of the many benches that filled the car. James took the seat nearest the window and watched as the train began moving and the station sped quickly out of view. A few minutes into their trip, Alfred produced a small basket full of food. "I´ll wager you won´t object to having something to eat," he said with a smile. James didn´t have a chance to reply because his mouth was already quite full of sandwich.

As it happened, their car was almost empty, so they were able to talk softly as they ate without worrying about being overheard. After several questions about Muggle inventions and life, James came to a realization. "Muggles really aren´t all that different from us, are they, Grandfather?" he asked. Alfred smiled a little, but didn´t say anything, leaving the boy to think in silence for another few moments. James realized his grandfather was trying to teach him something important, so he thought doubly hard before asking his next question, hoping he would not have to answer it himself. "Why do we live apart from the Muggles?" he finally said.

"That´s too easy a question, James," said Alfred, smiling despite the boy´s obvious confusion. "Not too easy to answer," he continued. "It´s too easy to ask, too safe. It takes no responsibility."

James stared out the window for another few moments before trying again. When he thought he might have some idea what his grandfather was getting at, he made another attempt. "Why do we hide from them?" he asked tentatively.

This time, Alfred seemed quite content with, even proud of James. "Now that is a worthwhile question," he said. "So worthwhile, in fact, that I am unable to answer it completely. I can tell you that it wasn´t always like this.

"Ages ago, most Muggles were able to accept the existence of magic in the world without feeling threatened. And most wizards and witches were able to use their magical abilities responsibly and without arrogance. Everyone lived together in relative harmony. Don´t misunderstand me. This was no utopia. Certainly there were problems and discords and even wars, but they very rarely centred on the question of magic. You see, a balance of power that ensured this peace and harmony was agreed upon and utilized for countless years and in countless cultures. The rulers were always Muggles, but they were chosen, supported, and counselled by the wizarding community. For centuries, Muggles trusted and respected the wisdom of the wizards and our kind in turn trusted and respected the Muggle right to governance.

"Unfortunately, this arrangement was eventually taken for granted and gave way to a class system that grew ever more rigid. A ruling class of nobility among the Muggles came to feel entitled to their stations and were largely unconcerned with any but their own interests. Wizards grew complacent in their comfortable positions as counsellors at court and gradually lost interest in the maintenance of justice and order. As this elitism spread, so did misery in the lower classes and contention among the rulers. Revolutions and wars became commonplace as the various kings and nobles tried to increase their wealth and influence. Wizards threw their force behind whomever they believed could best assure their continued security and comfort. During this violent time, mistrust and suspicion escalated on both sides, widening the gulf to the point that it seemed beyond repair.

"There was however, a brief period of respite during the Arthurian age, when the great wizard Merlin was able to achieve an amazing degree of tolerance and even integration. Unfortunately, even he was unable to overcome the basic feeling that Muggles and wizards are so inherently different that they could never truly be one people. As time wore on past Merlin´s era, the segregation increased quite naturally, without any overt action or deliberate planning. Each society was simply content to go about its own business, for the most part oblivious and indifferent to the other. At this point, to say that they simply `lived apart´ from each other would have been accurate and your first question would be more than answered.

"The next piece, however, is somewhat more delicate; it involves deep-seated beliefs founded on even deeper emotions. I don´t really know all of the details of that sad stretch of history, and many that I do know I don´t care much to speak about if I can avoid it. I can only paint this picture for you with very broad strokes. At first, the division seemed quite harmless. But years of separation allowed rumours to slowly spread and grow, causing each community to see the other as increasingly peculiar and even abnormal. It is difficult in the extreme for human beings to focus on how something is different without coming to see it as flawed or inferior. This was no exception; both sides would ultimately succumb to this belief, becoming ever more apprehensive and suspicious of each other. Mistrust, when passed through generations, builds up and eventually transforms into fear. At this point, blame became a convenient and easy way for the factions--yes, both of them--to avoid responsibility for their own ills. The increasing fearful accusations led swiftly to true hatred, creating a highly dangerous and volatile environment. It was rather like a thick forest that has grown too dry, where even the smallest spark can have violent consequences.

"No one can say for certain what that spark was, or which side caused it. And if you ask me it doesn´t much matter. If it hadn´t have been one thing it would have been another. The result would have been the same, a fierce inferno of aggression and bloodshed. Most modern wizarding historians focus entirely on Muggle persecution of the magical community, but it is important to remember that wizards did at least their fair share of mistreatment and even killing. As different as they felt from one another, their actions were remarkably similar.

"In the end, the most important factor that led to the hiding was that wizards and witches were the minority. The Muggles couldn´t be destroyed for their sheer numbers, so the only way to avoid being destroyed by them was to disappear, an ability that the magical community was fortunate enough to possess. The International Confederation of Wizards was thus formed at the end of the seventeenth century to orchestrate the retreat and magic has been carefully hidden from Muggle eyes ever since. I think many wizards and witches at the time thought that Muggle society would shrivel up and die without magical help, but they most certainly have not. If anything, our society has stagnated in hiding; we expend so much energy trying to stay hidden that we don´t progress much. Things have changed very little in our world over the centuries, while the Muggle world has changed a great deal."

James had to reflect for a moment to try and take that all in. "So, you´re saying that hiding hurts us. We´re cutting off our nose to spite our face. You´re saying we should stop hiding."

Alfred raised his eyebrows and said, suppressing a smile, "That´s not what I´m saying at all. You were right that we are much more alike than many think, but even so I am convinced that reintegration would be disastrous in the extreme. Human nature has not changed very much in the past few centuries, and we are much more isolated and prejudiced now than we were during the hysteria just prior to our seclusion."

James looked confused. "Then what are you saying? Why tell me all that?"

Just then, the train began to slow as it entered Paddington Station. "What makes you so certain that I was doing anything more than answering your question with a bit of historical context?" asked Alfred. James looked like he was about to speak, but his grandfather cut him off before he had a chance. "In any case, our little conversation certainly helped to pass the time. Here we are. Let´s go." Alfred stood and was at the compartment´s exit before the train had come to a complete stop. James was still puzzled, thinking over his grandfather´s words as he followed him onto the platform and then out of the station into Muggle London. Although he was still entranced by the Muggle world, James' attitude towards it had changed somewhat. He actually felt a little sad that he could never be more than a visitor there, that there were so many places where he would never really belong, that there were so many wonders he would never understand. James couldn't decide whether he was glad to at least know something real about it all, or if he was envious of those young wizards and witches whose universes were smaller and easier to manage.

They stopped just in front of The Leaky Cauldron, a wizarding inn and pub as well as the passageway into the magical centre of London. James took a final look at the people passing him on the street. His grandfather leaned down to his level and spoke softly, "O brave new world that has such people in it."