Chapter Eleven: The Laws.

Magic, Harry reflected, was beyond infuriating.

Between Dudley's birthday and his own he'd worked out many of Alchemy's own laws. Assisted by a healthy dose of caution and his integrated knowledge, he'd proven that there were three primary steps.

Comprehension, was the understanding of the inherent structure and properties of the atomic or molecular make-up of a particular material to be transmuted, including the flow and balance of potential and kinetic energy within.

A few times he hadn't properly balanced the energy, and it had rebounded on him spectacularly.

Deconstruction was the second step, using the kinetic energy to break down the physical structure of the identified material into a more malleable state so as to be easily reshaped into a new form.

This came from examining the object being transmuted, he'd noticed that the red energy would almost melt the object in question. It held it's from, only almost as if it was a suspended liquid. Perhaps due to the energy flow?

Reconstruction, the final step, was continuing the flow of energy so as to reform the material into a new shape.

Understanding, Destruction, Construction. Simple laws that could not be worked around. One could stop at the Deconstruction step, but could not as far as he knew, create something from nothing.

Hence, the laws of Equivalence.

The Law of Conservation of Mass, which states that energy and matter can neither be created from nothing nor destroyed to the point of elemental nonexistence. In other words, to create an object weighing one kilogram, at least one kilogram of material is necessary and destroying an object weighing one kilogram would reduce it to a set of parts, the sum of which would weigh one was a law that was already well known in Chemistry.

The Law of Natural Providence, which states that an object or material made of a particular substance or element can only be transmuted into another object with the same basic makeup and properties of that initial material. In other words, an object or material made mostly of water can only be transmuted into another object with the attributes of water. Water cannot be transmuted into a steel desk, for example.

However, he knew his knowledge was not complete. When going through Flamel's journal, he saw drawings and references to various symbols and circles. From his meagre knowledge of French learned in the last month and a half (it was currently September the seventeenth) these symbols were called 'Transmutation Circles' by Flamel.

It was a startling revelation that not everyone could perform Alchemy through the clapping Harry done, which made him examine why exactly he could do it.

He could do Alchemy after his encounter with... That thing, but nearly all of his knowledge was instinctual. He needed to be reminded, or actually think about it though, to recall this knowledge.

However, if he assumed that the likes of Flamel and Dumbledore hadn't gone through this, then they had to go through other means. Hence, these circles.

Why did he clap when doing it however? When considering it, Harry came to the conclusion that it was the knowledge he gained that allowed him to know about the clapping method. He used himself as a circle, bypassing the need for symbols. The circles themselves never deviated shape, too, which assured him of his conclusion.

Sure, they had symbols, and perhaps other shapes going through and outside it, but the one single constant was the circle itself.

His point was, Alchemy had laws and rules. These were (as far as he knew and tested to a certain extent) unbreakable tenets.

Magic, however, had rules that contradicted other rules that created new rules which refuted even more rules! It was a mess!

Magical Theory was indeed accurate in it's name. It attempted to explain what exactly magic was while stating what rules and laws had been created over the history of the Wizarding World and detailing which where still applicable, under examination, or already dis-proven.

The most unyielding, and longest known laws, were 'Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration', also detailed in 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration'.

The rules are as follows:

One: True Food cannot be Conjured, Transfigured, or otherwise magically created.

Two: True Water is the only known liquid that can be Conjured.

Three: True Life cannot be Conjured, Transfigured, or otherwise magically created.

Four: Transfiguration is impossible as a permanency, with the exception of Vanishing.

Five: True Dark Magick's nature cannot be changed.

In rule one, 'True Food' referred to nutritional value. Food could be grown in a magical area with saturated magic or magically encouraged to grow, but the moment transforming or transfiguring magic hit it, there was an instant loss of nutritional value. Food would still have no nutritional value if transfigured then un-transfigured. Food that was duplicated would derive it's nutritional value from the original item, halving it with every duplication. A whole would become two halves, a half would become two quarters, and so on and so forth.

Food could be summoned from a known location, or hit with any charm or curse that did not otherwise interfere with it's nature, but if it did, nutritional value was lost.

Rule two was interesting to Harry, as it detailed the mechanics and science behind the Aguamenti Spell. It derived it's water from the humidity of a location. It did not magically summon or create, as such it held nutritional value.

Three was a strange one. Gamp defined 'True Life' as not being dictated by mannerisms or free will, but by the presence of a soul. Rocks do not have souls, and so when a rock is transfigured into a dog, all it does is import the caster's thoughts, knowledge and/or intent of mannerisms into the animal. That is how they could make it do things it normally wouldn't, like tap dance for example. How an energy could do such a thing was beyond Harry's understanding, but apparently magic defied typical laws in favour of it's own. The rule also meant that resurrection of a deceased was impossible. Even in magic, dead is dead it seems.

Rule four certainly explained why there was an economy to begin with. Since they cannot create lasting clothes or constructs (though he did wonder what dictated the longevity of them) then people would have to buy them. Though he wondered what made Vanishing the only exception. He guessed since it destroyed the object? No it would be called Destruction, not Vanishing. Perhaps Vanishing simply shrinked it to something smaller than the naked eye could see? Germ size? Maybe it reduced it to atoms? Did it violate the Conservation of Energy?

The fifth rule was simply put, fascinating. Perhaps it was what 'Dark Arts' referred to, meaning there were types of magic rather than methods of usage. Though what was True Dark Magic, as opposed to false Dark Magic? Was there a polar opposite, Light Magic? Were there actually, Light Magic? As in, the energy? Laser Spells? Plasma Spells? Holy Magic? Demon Magic?!

It created more questions than give an answer, though.

But beyond Mr Gamp's laws, magic became, simply put, foggy.

The spell books he read, simply made his head hurt and himself whimper.

Expulso, for one. It makes whatever it hits, explode. What? How does that even work?! Sure, if you cast it on something like a gas line or television, but what about water? How does it make WATER explode?!

If the answer was that it was kinetic energy with a spark igniting the hydrogen in the air to cause the reaction or something equally ridiculous (he knew a lot about kinetic energy, thank you very much) then how did it's graphical images of it's use against people exactly work? Wouldn't they explode in a shower of gore, not flames?

Furnunculus, the Boil Curse. It created boils... How...

One of his favourites, Duro. It turned objects into stone. Oh really? Pray tell, what kind? Igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic? Did it turn the object into marble, or sandstone? Were base metals and precious metals included? Ores? Yes, because a spell that could possibly turn anything into Uranium could not go wrong...

He assumed that the actual properties would not be carried over, like nutritional value in foods for example, but it was rather worrying still since there was no note about it. What if it was cast on a person? If someone's internal organs were turned to stone, they were dead. No two ways around it.

Wizards had also created a spell, they used the energy of magic, to cast the Aparecium spell. What is it, one might ask? A spell that reveals... Invisible ink.

The two most dangerous spells he had seen though were Germinio Spell and the Evanesco Spell. A spell that duplicates, and another that vanishes into non-being.

He did wonder what would happen if they were cast on a person. Would he have a clone if he cast it on himself? Better yet, what if someone used the Vanishing Spell on someone? That was a terrifying thought.

What he found interesting though, was what confirmed to him magic was an energy. Since the magic was expressed by light when cast and light is produced through the energy released in photons. Optical Light is only a small part of a continuum of radiation energy known as the electromagnetic spectrum. Thus, this confirmed that magic was indeed an energy. Though some spells did not have a visible to the eye light and appeared to be almost instantaneous or invisible, he had tested with the summoning charm at the park when it was empty.

He laid a branch a good ten paces away, then cast the spell 'Accio' he failed the first few times, with it only jumping a few feet or just moving as if hit by a gust of wind, but eventually it successfully sped into his hand.

He done this again, this time at fifty paces. The one thing he noticed was the delay. Not in the time it took for it to reach him, but for the spell to take effect. Time equals distance over speed, after all. At ten paces, it was pretty much instantaneous. At fifty paces? Not so much.

Watching it under the effect of his magic tendrils while ignoring the slight buzz of heat, he watched in awe as he cast again (same distance, fifty paces) and not a tendril of his magic around him, but a thin spear of the magic shot forth at blinding pace from his wand, connecting to the branch before reeling it in.

When he tried it again, this time while turned left from facing the branch, the spear curved as it left the wand. From this, he reasoned it would take it's fastest but not the absolute fastest route possible. It did not immediately bend, or disappear and reappear.

When he placed an obstacle in the way in the form of a tall tree, the spear continued on it's path before curving around the tree, then taking the exact same return path. It did not try to go over, and it also went the route that would not meet resistance.

For the semi-final test, he put the branch in a box.

The spear passed through the box, before the branch was dragged forcibly through the box. Meaning, if the blockage in question would not physically impose the object in question to the point of not being able to return, then it would follow the same path. When the box was replaced with a weighted box, it jolted the box on the return. When the box was replaced with a locked door in his own house (when empty, of course) it clashed, before the spear simply receded to his wand without the object.

His final test included blocking the return path with an object, then moving himself.

The branch did not stray from the return path, and clashed, shattering with the bolder he'd rolled into position. With one of the thirds, he then moved himself behind a tree.

Only for his tendrils to spot the branch about to clash with the tree and actually change the return path to curve into his hand.

Which told him it would indeed follow the same path only moving with him (if he changed distance outwith the path the object would fall short) and that his Magic was cheeky. And could interfere with spells. That would have to be experimented with.

The next infuriating think about magic was actually using the spells.

He first tried it with the Invisible Ink spell via the old fashioned lemon juice method.

Lemon juice is an organic substance that oxidises and turns brown when heated. Diluting the lemon juice in water makes it very hard to notice when applied to paper, no one will be aware of its presence until it is heated and the secret message is revealed.

'Aparecium' was butchered Latin he was pretty sure, as the Latin word appareo was a clear root, which means "to become visible or to appear". Magical Theory explained that the Latin was deliberately changed in most cases to avoid confusion, as it explained, words had power. To say it in normal speech may cause a reaction, hence why there were no known spells in English. People's belief in the incantation gave it power, to say it aloud was to give it strength, which was apparently the reason why verbal was always without fail, more powerful than non-verbal. Basically, the difference between praying for something, and saying mentally please god.

Still, no matter how many times he tried to cast the spell, it never worked! Never!

It was beyond frustrating, and it wasn't the only spell, too.

He'd only had minuscule success with casting magic. The Repairing Spell worked for him perfectly fine, it made things a whole lot easier with a word to dictate and guide the magic, rather than resorting to what he had done before, such as attempting to clean by imagining and associating cleanliness and images with the action. Just uttering 'Scourgify' made things simpler.

He could do all of the Grade One spells, at least... Sort of. The Fire Making Spell 'Incendio', was giving him difficulties. He could see how it was supposed to work (the invisible to the human eye magic colliding with the target to ignite, possibly by the light then heating, starting the flames) but try as he did, the attempts seemed almost... Reluctant. It irritated to him to no end, and the tendrils of his Magic seemed to almost shiver when he stewed over it. Calming himself, he simply resolved to find an Alchemy method to doing so.

Perhaps two rings? One flint, the other stainless steel? Maybe his wand could have a function, striking one of the rings? Or, a glove, with metal tips? So many possibilities. All he needed to do would be use alchemy to decompose water in the air into hydrogen and oxygen then reignite as needed to turn the tiny spark into an inferno. Simple chemistry and physics.

He'd need to speak to Petunia about getting some the next time they ventured out to the Zoo and stores, speaking of which he'd like to go back to the Alley and see what animals are for sale as pets in the magical world.

Currently, he was on his walk back from the park, as it was nearly twelve o'clock on a Saturday, meaning his Petunia would be putting lunch on.

Petunia now took over breakfast on a school day, while Harry handled the weekends. As him and Dudley had lunch at school, he handled their dinner later the night, while Petunia cooked both lunch and dinner on weekend days.

Dudley now helped out around the house, while Harry was regulated to solely outside work, maintaining the front agapanthi and pansies, mowing the lawn and general upkeep of the back garden. Just last week he'd been scrubbing down the rustic bench.

Soon enough he was seated at the table with his relatives, enjoying a Full-English.

"Where were you?" Dudley suddenly demanded, pausing before taking a bite of his bacon sandwich.

Harry swallowed the piece of potato scone, before replying.

"The park."

"Why? You've got no friends-"

"Dudders!" Petunia hissed, eyes widening.

"-So why would you go?" He finished.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Are you actually interested Dudley, or are you looking to scare someone off?"

"Scare someone off?" Vernon scoffed. "Dudley wouldn't do that, he wouldn't even need to."

He wasn't quite sure why they were suddenly being brave now, having been content with snide comments or just ignoring him, but he was having quite enough of it.

"If you must know," Harry started, "I was practising."

Petunia's lip curled, while Vernon glowered.

"Your freaky powers?" Dudley snorted. "'Course a runt like you would need those, you can't fight like a real man."

"Disappointed you can't bully me now Diddykins?" Harry growled, slamming down his fork.

"I never did!"

"Then what do you call five against one?!" Harry yelled back, rising to his feet.

"Sit down boy!" Vernon bellowed, gripping the table edges with his palms. "Dudley, don't antagonise-"

"The freak?" Dudley cut his father off. "That's what he got called, dad. That's what he is. I'm sick of us being afraid of freaks like him!"

"Freak as he may be, Dudley, his kind are dangerous." Petunia stressed.

"I wonder who's more dangerous," Harry scoffed. "Little me or the whale here."

With surprising speed, Dudley reached over and grabbed Harry by the collar, then socked him across the jaw with the other fist. Instantly, Dudley was thrown into the air in retaliation, the ambient tendrils which had been tensing alongside Harry's emotions striking hard and fast like a whip crack while Harry nursed his split lips.

"Dudders!" Petunia screamed, rushing for the slumped figure of her son against the wall, the plaster broken.

Vernon had got Harry in a bear hug, lifting the squirming and growling ten year old off the ground.

"Tuney get Dudley to the car! I'll be out in a few minutes!"

Petunia heeded her husband, helping the dizzy boy to his feet and guiding him out the front door. While this was happening, Vernon carried Harry into the living room. The tendrils of Harry's Magic were unseeingly floating as this happened, afraid of striking lest they hurt it's host.

When the front door closed with a slam, Vernon roughly deposited his nephew on the couch.

"Right, let's get a few things clear, boy." He growled. "The next time you use your freakishness on my family, I'll get my belt and give you a taste of what misbehaving do- boys got in my day."

"For what?!" Harry shot back, arms folded. "He started it!"

"I don't care who started what. If it's going to get violent, settle it with your fists like a normal person boy! Dudley will probably have to go to hospital over a little spat!"

Harry swallowed his guilt, trying not to fidget.

"Sorry, next time he starts I'll be a good little punching bag." He muttered bitterly.

"Oh, you feel like a victim here?!" Vernon bellowed, slamming his hands on the coffee table, making it shake. "YOU feel like the victim?!"

"Well it's all I've ever been in this house!"

Vernon laughed.

"You, the victim." He repeated. "You tell me who's the victim here, boy. A perfectly normal family living in a hard worked for bought house in a new neighbourhood, the husband and wife new to being parents are suddenly left without warning with a second child."

Harry went to interrupt, but Vernon continued.

"One child's hard enough, but now they have to provide for another. That's a cot on short notice, nappies, necessities, and a grieving wife who just lost her sister and is left her son, and a fucking letter. She got told of her sisters death through a LETTER! But no, it doesn't end there does it?! They were a magical family, who her parents had simply adored while they ignored their other child!

Petunia dealt with her estranged sisters death, her and her man's funeral all the while looking after two kids! One of those bloody kids is a freak though, a traumatised one who'd never leave that blasted cupboard!"

"Then why were you so mean to me!" Harry screamed, hoarse with tears.

"Because you almost killed OUR SON!"

Harry's eyes widened, never having been told this before, while Vernon breathed heavily.

"My dad was in the war. He was never the same due to his P.T.S.D. Waking up with nightmares nearly every other day, flashbacks to seeing his friends die, and he slips back into fighting... Can you imagine, if he was a freak who made things explode when that happened?!

You and Dudley used to play together till we separated you. You had a fight as toddlers, over a stupid little toy, and the next thing Petunia and I know is that Dudley's flying for the glass conservatory doors!"

"I... How did he live?" Harry whispered.

To answer, Vernon took off his checkered shirt, and turned to show his back. A back that was sculpted haphazardly with scars.

"Jumped in front and grabbed the tyke out of the air, but we kept going. Managed to keep him safe, but was in Accident and Emergency myself, said I tripped over some of the toys." Vernon stated gruffly. "None of your freaks ever came to see us back then. We knew nothing about raising a freaky child, let alone a messed up one. You'd lose your temper and things would shatter, explode... We didn't know what to do."

Vernon started pacing.

"We were trapped. We can't move house till you're of age, the Dumbledoor bloke said that we'd get attacked if we left here. Something about bloody shields. Then we're terrified for our safety, our son's life. We didn't know what to do."

Vernon turned to meet Harry's eyes.

"My parents used to keep a dog. Right nasty thing it was when we first got it and Marge loved the beast, I hated it but dad got it under control. Locked it up when it tried to bite, withheld food when it would snarl at me and Marge, and if needed give it a good wack."

"I was kept in that cupboard because you treated me like a dog." Harry whispered.

"Well I didn't know what bloody else to do!" Vernon snapped. "Nothing else worked! If we tried to punish you, your freakishness would do something to counter the punishment! And it worked in the end, our way! You've got it under control now haven't you?! But I'm warning you now, my family comes before you boy. You go for my son again, and Dumbledoor can be damned, you're out at the nearest orphanage! In my house my word is law, boy, and you will listen or I will follow through! I might not have done the best thing, or the right thing," Vernon spat the word before continuing, "but it kept my family safe from you freaks, and I won't apologise. Now, I'm going to take my son to hospital, and pray to God that he's well."

Harry didn't move even when the front door slammed and locked, and he stayed that way as he heard the car leave.