The Provisional Laws of Acquired Behavior or Learning

Authors Note: Offscreen explosions, the pre-ordained death of canon and some regular death.

Disclaimer: I don't at this time own any published work of Sega or JK Rowling, if I did I'd gut the current Sonic fandom and only allow literate people to contribute cutting the fandom back by 90% and improving the quality by the same percentage.

After handing over the delivery Maurice went to learn why he'd been warned away from Diagon Alley heading to the Three Broomstricks for a late lunch, a radio in the bar broadcast the chilling news.

"We still have no suspects of this most heinous of crimes the scene of devastation here in Diagon Alley has been likened to the aftermath of the aerial bombing of 1940, magical investigators have however confirmed that each explosive device used was magical in origin.
Gringotts Goblins, witches and wizards working together can be seen amidst the rubble clearing the debris and pulling those unfortunate few out of the rubble, Flourish & Blotts bookstore is gone, Knockturn Alley is currently ablaze with cursed fire every colour of the rainbow.
Investigations point to the devastating explosions being used as a diversion as parties unknown drilled and blasted their way into Gringotts bank lower levels using a magical automaton killing an estimated 300 goblins, 37 humans and 19 security dragons.
Many lower level vaults are now inaccessible due to underground collapses, poison gasses and traps set by the invader.
The Auror force is currently combating the cursed fires of Knockturn Alley stopping their spread into Greater London.
By and large this is a dark day for British wizardry, more news to come"

Maurice settled himself into a corner of the pub and ordered some food settling down to listen to the wireless as many other patrons were doing.
Focusing on his meal he nonetheless kept his ears metaphorically pricked, picking up strands of conversation over the noisy pub.

"Where will the students get their supplies this September?"
"How will people get their money?"
"Do you think Ollivander is alright? I don't want my son getting a frog wand"
"Well you can't say the Aurors aren't trying to do something, there just aren't enough of them"
"Hope Fudge gets the sack for this, this is his fault"

"Horrible isn't it?" Maurice looked up at the person who had addressed him, Madam Rosmerta.
Maurice nodded solemnly sipping his drink "Sounds like it isn't over either, I'm dreading going back to Diagon after this." And really he was, the news reports sounded horrible as unlike the non-magical reporters the newswitch was being very descriptive leading to some very graphic mental imagery.
"Well you can stay over tonight in the spare room if you want, there are going to be a lot of folk causing trouble tonight with the Aurors occupied and I don't want anything happening to my favourite delivery boy."
"Thanks, Rosie"

A chill went up Maurice's spine was he gazed up at the corrugated iron and plywood wall around the former Leaky Cauldron, fencing it off from non-magical eyes with a farce of a construction site.
Tapping three times on the door as instructed over the wireless Maurice braced himself for what he might see and walked through the now illusionary doorway.
The first thing Maurice noticed was that the Leaky Cauldron was gone, completely and utterly. Vague outlines of wood and stone jutting up from the ground showed where walls had been, the actual debris of walls, furniture and building materials either incinerated by the wild fiendfyre or cleared away by the Unspeakable's.
There was no magical brick boundary between the cauldron and Diagon Alley and so steeling himself Maurice took his eyes off the ground and for the first time actually looked at the alley.
It was beyond his wildest nightmares.
The ground of Diagon Alley was scorched black in places though rain and the effort of Aurors on cleanup duty had done a lot to hide the damage some things were impossible to hide for those observant enough. Like the soot in between the cobblestones and in the joinery in buildings in the alley, some bricking had a distinct ripple pattern as if it had started to melt from extreme heat.
Other things were more overt Ollivander's Wand store was a burnt-out shell, wood and shelving reduced to little more than blackened charcoal standing like dead trees in a graveyard.
Flourish & Blotts was worse in a way than Ollivander's, not even a frame remained of the bookstore, hundreds of enchanted books feeding the cursed fire to the heat of dragon fire. A small square had been cordoned off by the Ministry, the door leading to the basement where so many people and employees had sought shelter from the fighting in the alley only to be choked to death when the cursed fire had eaten through the wards and filled the basement with smoke.
Knockturn Alley was cordoned off completely, the entire alley completely gutted out. The ground had given way during the Aurors fire-fighting efforts into what the Department of Law Enforcement was calling a underground black market alley which was also completely melted by the fire, killing who knows how many.
The biggest tragedy of the day was as breathtaking as it was demoralising, the once white marble entranceway of Gringotts the first sight a muggleborn saw upon entering Britain's wizarding world for the first time and long assumed enchanted to be indestructible was little more than rubble, green, red and black blood staining the floor and walls where the intruder has slain all resistance.
In truth the humans, goblins and security dragon had put up a courageous fight but the aggressor had simply swept them aside like wheat in the wind, before using golems and copious spell work to burrow straight down from the marble mezzanine doing incredible structural damage and then escaping once he had/or she whatever he wanted.

The complete anonymity of the attacker versus the uproar created was astounding it was only just yesterday that Minister Fudge had faced a coup lead by a furious Madam Bones.
Perhaps if Minister Fudge hadn't attempted to shift the blame of the attacks outcome onto the goblins and Muggleborn his career would have survived even if only by the skin of his teeth.
But the entire Auror core had been in the thick of the fighting side by side with the goblins both sides had fought a losing battle against a far superior opponent, forging a mutual camaraderie born of war.
Upon assuming control with the full support of the Auror office and the Unspeakable's Madam Bones declared martial law taking control of Wizarding Britain and instituting sweeping changes geared at reforming law enforcement to something more in gear with their non-magical counterparts.
Not much was known about what was happening behind the closed doors of the ministry nowadays, though it was confirmed that the defacto leader was in talks with the International Wizarding Confederation about something.

Unable to face the sight of the ruined alley where so many people had died Maurice walked back out the way he came erupting into a run by the time Maurice stopped he was in Magnolia Crescent near the Dursley's house. Unwilling to return to the Dursley's just yet Maurice made his way to the local park, very early Sunday meaning the place was virtually deserted, Maurice climbed to the top of the monkey bars and from there leapt and pulled himself up onto the bough of a tree, leaning against the trunk.
Maurice didn't quite fall to pieces but it was a close thing, here was a 10 year old who had just had to deal with the deaths of numerous acquaintances.
Acquaintances not friends, which was why he wasn't bawling his eyes out, but to lose so many of them all at once…

'Forget about it, you created that stupid contraption in the first place why should I have to go about cleaning up your messes!'

"Shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP…" Maurice pressed the heels of his balms into his closed eyes trying to convince himself that the burning feeling in his eyes was dust and not approaching tears.
These people may have barely known him but they had acknowledged him, Not as a child or as some mythical hero-
And maybe, in part, that was the problem.
"I'm not him…"
He was 10 years old
'I'm not a hero'
It was irrational.
"I'm not!"
It still hurt.