More Powerful Than Any Man
Holmes Mansion
When Mycroft entered the foyer of the Holmes mansion, he took in the smell of old wood, dust, and bad memories. Phillip the butler stood by the entrance, took his coat and umbrella, and placed them in the coat cupboard. Mycroft then began to make his way up the stairs to his office. With each step he took, he felt the weight of his stress settle and shift on his shoulders. He had not been sleeping easy; what with things going on in various Middle Eastern countries, and in America, the usual dealings with various Ambassadors, not to mention the problems with MI-6… and, now, Sherlock. He'd spent the last twelve or so hours with him so that John could sleep. He didn't care what the man said; he was far too devoted to Sherlock to only be a friend.
He arrived in his office, and immediately poured a generous helping of single-malt scotch before he sat in his chair. He stared at the bare walls that had seen so many generations of Holmes men as they sat, contemplated, and fixed the world's problems.
If these walls could talk, I wonder if they'd be willing to help me with my own, He mused as he sipped his drink. Then again, Holmes' rarely need consultation for any issue.
Possible trauma of the brain, several contusions, broken limbs and ribs, punctured lung… The list of his baby brother's torture, unfortunately, went on and on. Hands clasped as if in prayer and placed against his lips in contemplation, the eldest Holmes contemplated his younger brother's situation.
He may not wake up, comatose patients rarely do. If that is the case…Mycroft took a deep, shuttering breath as his emotions bubbled to the surface for the umpteenth time since his brother's abduction. All the sorrow, disappointment, and helplessness that had been bundled together and thrust deep into his being were forcing their way up. He sucked in another shuddering breath. Breathing seemed to have become difficult.
I'm more powerful than any man in muggle Britain, so why is it that I couldn't find my brother sooner? Why is it that all I can do is sit and wait? I don't know whether this is worse than the incident with father or not, He closed his eyes and tried to breathe steady as his fear, anger and grief flooded through him, but he did not cry. He refused to cry. Never again.
A knock on the door woke him from his reverie and he locked his emotions away in a small drawer of his mind office before responding.
"Yes, what is it?" Mycroft said as Phillip opened the door but did not enter.
"So sorry to bother you, Master Holmes. The Mistress would like to have tea with you, if you are available."
"Yes. Yes, of course, Phillip. Please inform her that I shall be there momentarily." Mycroft said and Phillip bowed before leaving; closing the door behind him in silence. Taking in a deep breath as he stood, Mycroft smoothed out his suit and placed his empty tumbler on the mantle behind his desk before leaving the room. He let out a small sight before inhaling. Having tea or dining with his mother always required a lot of strength from him and, frankly, Mycroft didn't have much left to spare Mummy. It was at these times he wondered what it would be like if he were able to tell Mummy the news about Sherlock; he wondered if sharing the pain and anxiety with family was easier than shouldering it all on one's own. He sighed again before shutting the door to his office.
He walked down the hall and entered a grand bedroom with a large window overlooking the rain-soaked garden. A woman in a wheelchair sat staring out of the window while Phillip poured the tea. She was a beautiful woman, in a plain sort of way. Her dark curls were pulled back but left down and her pale skin was clean and blemish free. Her dark eyes, however, were dull and held little life in them anymore. Mycroft slowly made his way towards the chair opposite the woman and sat. He waited. After a while, the woman turned her head towards Mycroft and smiled. Her dark eyes sparkled for just a moment.
"Elwyn. You're back from your trip early. I'm afraid Mycroft and Sherlock have not returned from boarding school yet. But they should be arriving in a few weeks, if you are still home," She said and reached for her tea.
Mycroft gave his mother a weak smile. "Yes. I'm sure I shall be here when they arrive."
Harry's Mind Castle: The Library
"…And magic found in magical creatures such as elves extends from a more natural form of magic that is different from witches or wizards, whose magic comes from their core. Although, it should be noted that through practising of the Old Religion a witch or wizard might strengthen their core through binding it to the naturally occurring magic by way of rituals, " Sherlock dictated to the magical quill. He grabbed the finished scroll and placed it among the others before sending them off to his mind palace with a wave of his hand as if it were nothing. They would arrive in his library and remain on a desk until he put them away in their appropriate section… Which meant he'd have to build a new section of his library to house data on magic.
Harry watched over the top of his "History of the Discovery of Magical Cores" by Bartemius Brecht. It was awe inspiring to Harry how relaxed Sherlock was whilst learning about real magic. Even the more accepting muggles would be tense or upset over all the rules, theories and restrictions that came with practicing magic. They all believed the fairy-tales but potions, charms and magic in general would never work that way, and that reality made most of them mad.
"It's sorta surprising that you've had no encounter with magic before. You seem to act like it's natural… Most muggles don't, that's all I'm saying. It's nice," Harry rambled when Sherlock gave him a penetrating stare. It rather reminded him of the stares he gave.
"After eliminating the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Magic, whilst improbable, is apparently truth. Since it seems relevant to the current situation, and in solving interesting, albeit unusual cases, I've decided to learn all pertinent data on the subject. It would be idiocy for me to believe fairy-tales when it comes to the rules, laws and restrictions of magic," Sherlock said as he replaced the magical theory books and returned with first and second year potions. Harry gave a wry smile.
"Like I said, it's nice… Fairies are vicious little twats, by the way," Harry commented as Sherlock cracked open the books. The thin man looked up and returned the smile with a smirk.
"I still don't quite comprehend why you wish me to learn the core subjects before helping you, Harry. I've caught up with your knowledge of magic theory, I think I shall be of some use."
"As I told you before, Sherlock, magic theory is complicated and vast. You've caught up with my knowledge on general magic theory, each core subject—and a couple of specialized branches—each are a specific branch of magic theory… Think of it like science, yeah? In primary, we all learn the general knowledge of science, what it is, what we can study and do with it. As we get older science becomes different studies; chemistry, physics, biology and so on. Each of those subjects are science, but they've specific rules and theory that make them unique. That's what magic theory is like as well… You just have to read through second year for half of them; transfiguration you should read through fourth year, and potions through third year."
Sherlock gave a sharp nod and became engrossed with the books. Harry smirked and returned to his own.
In 1448, Gerald Groth of Gasmuth theorized that magic in wizards came primarily, not from their surroundings, but from within. He proved this by placing himself in a magic proofed room, which was made from muggle-made materials and included a distinct lack of nature or any magical properties. As he was still able to cast spells that he usually did his theory was accepted.
Groth concluded that magic is present within a witch or wizard. He theorised that this magic was a core of some sort, most likely in the shape of a sphere, and was unique to each individual. He also theorised that this core may have inherited traits from the mage's parents; allowing for witches and wizards who are more suited to one type of magic over others.
Gerald Groth held a theory called Split Magical Core Theory. This theory was partly based upon evidence that magic was more prevalent in earlier times; which allowed for unusually powerful mages such as Merlin to exist. Another part of this theory was based on the concepts of reincarnation and that cores are a part of the soul, hence are reincarnated with the witch or wizard. The theory states that in a rare occurrence of an abnormally powerful witch or wizard, in a magically depleted area or in an environment with low magical presence, the being's core is divided into two beings. The being is spilt in half entirely; with one half having the magic and the other not. The halves would most likely also be split in personality, gaining only half of the traits they would have.
There have been no findings such a core since this time, although certain events have lent credence to the theory and therefore theorists have not disregarded it…
Harry placed the book on the table and stood with a stretch. This was why he didn't enjoy studying for long periods of time. He got cramps and stiff muscles. He eyes Sherlock as he walked over to his restricted section. Placing his hand on the gate he focused on sending his magic through the lock. A gold swirl left his fingertips and the gate unlocked.
Sherlock watched with wide eyes as Harry closed the gates behind him and disappeared into the section. Of course! The gate unlocks to his magical signature, it's like a fingerprint for a magic core, oh that is quite brilliant since no one has ever been able to copy one exactly, Sherlock thought. Harry returned from the mysterious depths carrying a book. He locked the gate behind him.
As he walked back to his seat, he flipped through the book thinking that it might have the answer as to why Sherlock was connected to his Mind Castle. He also stopped by the magical theory section and picked up a book on the Mind Arts. When he reached his seat, he found Sherlock looking at the open book he had left on Gerald Groth.
"A split soul. You believe it may something to do with why we are connected."
"It's possible. It may explain several things about us as well, but it's a rather vague subject. It could also be something to do with the mind arts, which I'm going to look through first."
"Mind arts… As in construction of mental facilities or buildings?"
"Yeah, as well as a few other aspects like mental blocks, occlumency, and storage of information."
"It would be interesting to see how similar it is to—what do you call us, muggles—how muggles use mental construction."
"Well, how do muggles use it?" Harry asked and folded his book closed to give Sherlock his full attention.
Sherlock began to explain: "The majority of muggles are semi-intelligent, so very few actually use the idea of compartmentalizing. Essentially, the objective is to use a place from childhood or where they feel safe to represent their mind. One creates rooms to represent memories, people or data. So long as one remembers where the room is, every detail is accurately stored. Not many "professionals" have solid proof as to how this is possible, since the area where memories are stored in the brain is undiscovered."
Harry leaned back in his chair. None of that information was new to him; he'd learned most of it in his first few lessons with professor Snape.
"Wizards consider mental construction to be a magical art that's difficult to master since there's so many internal factors. The goal is pretty much identical to the muggle one, but it's not the only goal. For instance, sometimes the place is merely a safe haven, sometimes you want to hide information, or—in the cases of seers—you want to organise huge amounts of information properly. Mindscapes, the place you construct, can even be made simply to help the body run more efficiently, the first ones to build them were mages who wanted to improve their ability to cast spells, or apparate—essentially teleporting—and it sort of grew from there.
"Mindscapes take huge amounts of energy and power to build, maintain and protect. Mine encompasses everything in my brain. Not just memory but everything from sensory intake to digestion. Most only make a single room or space, and then use what's called occlumency to protect it from intruders."
"Intruders? People can invade minds?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah. It's called Legilimency. Some legimens are subtle and crafty, sneaking in and not setting of alarms or traps that occlumens can build as defences. Some, as you can see from the state of my castle, aren't subtle at all… Although that son of a gnome was destroying everything on purpose."
"You were attacked? By whom? What for?"
"Long story short, about fifty years ago a very powerful bugger named Lord Voldemort started trying to conquer the wizarding world and enslave muggles. Fourteen years ago my parents were fighting against him and he came to our house one night, he murdered them in front of me before trying to finish the whole deed by ending me too. I was, what, one? Anyway, no one had ever survived when he decided to get his hands dirty, but I did. Hence, I'm rather infamous all over the world. I somehow destroyed his body. He's been trying to make a come back for the last four years and last year he managed it… He recently possessed me and then proceeded to wreak as much havoc in my head as he could. I kicked him out but, maybe I should've just let him finish his work; there really isn't much more he needed to do."
"I see… That is the short version, I suppose, since I'm now left with several questions," Sherlock said. That explains the trauma, Sherlock thought. Harry snorted in amusement.
"That barely covered the bare bones of the matter. Everything related to the snake-faced sod is in my personal memories; you can look into it later, once we've figured out our mysterious connection to each other."
"Speaking of which, do you think a split soul is plausible as a theory?"
"…It could be. It could also explain why my core has changed… I don't know, I need to do more research; with what little information I've got at our disposal that is," Harry sighed in annoyance. Sherlock knew that sigh of frustration, he did it inwardly enough when he needed more data but couldn't get his hands on any. He clapped Harry's shoulder in comfort before returning to his materials on potions.