Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Magic was a curious thing. Well, it could not even be called a thing, as Magic in every sense of the word, was alive. Magic had it's own consciousness. It had it's own will. If you angered it, well, you could face some very unpleasant surprise's. But if you pleased it, you would be faced with some very good surprise's.

Harry had found this out by mistake. He was practicing and no matter how much he tried, he could not do the spell. He was doing everything right. The movement's were perfect, so was the spell. Finally fed up, he had started meditating, hoping to find some answer's. He went and took a look at his core.

The Core. According to Folione Ameues, a researcher of Inner Magic, at the Nalanda University, a wizard's core, was what made him. It is said that a human's is only a human, if he has a soul. The same could not be said about a Wizard. A wizard is only a wizard, if he has core, which in simple laymen's term is the gift bestowed upon him, by Magic. The Core is what makes a wizard.

The Core, also divide's the Wizarding population into three category's. Pure-blood's. Half-Blood's. Mud-blood's.

Now, you all must be wondering how. As the category's above are divided upon blood, not a wizard's core. The reason is, pure idiocy on the part of Wizard population.

As it is said, every human is born with a blank soul, and his choice's make him unique and his soul different. The same could not be said for Wizard's, as The Core they are born with, contain's every bit of knowledge their fore-father's and their father knew. When a wizard dies, his knowledge is all absorbed into his core and then merged with the rest of the knowledge. Pure-blood's Core contains the knowledge and experience of more than a millennial That also make their Core, very tranquil and easy to control.

In here is also the answer about my the Muggle-Born's are hated. The discovery of the Core was made in 538 AD. It was found out, that a muggle-born, gain's his or her core, by literally stealing from the Core's of other's. When small portion's of other's core's are mixes, the knowledge become's obsolete and is erased.

Now, you must be wondering, about how could a child who is not even born, steal from the Core's of other's. The reason. No muggle-born is born with magic, they become wizard by the age of seven. Their body and soul are born mutilated, due to some or the other circumstance's. By the age of five, the fractured soul, tries to heal itself. The most and the only other spiritual energy in the world, is magic. So the Soul, like a leech, suck as much as it can, to heal. The soul makes no distinction between the ambient magic or a Core's more refined and tranquil magic.

But it is naturally attracted to the tranquil state of magic, as it is very easy to leech in.

That is how, muggle-born are made, not born.

Of course, by the time, Hogwarts was founded in 975 AD, this was all forgotten and it was all made to be about the purity of one's blood. And it still has continued.

Harry knew all this, because the he had asked the Room about the Core. No human knew this much forgotten knowledge. Except him.

Now, back to the story.

It didn't matter how many times Harry saw his Core. He could not help but be in awe of it. It was, at least to him, limitless. It looked like an Island, surrounded by an ocean. On the Island was the combined knowledge and experience of more than hundred generations of family. 'Such a pity', he thought. Even if the knowledge was there, he had no way of reaching it. NO one could. The knowledge about how to reach was truly forgotten, as not even the Room could tell hi.

He shook his his head to clear it and put his head to the matter at hand. He started to fly above, in search of the problem. Suddenly, a tendril of his magic caught and wrapped around his leg.

'What the he-', his thought process halted as he felt unimaginable pain course through him. The last thing he saw was his Core's erupting around him. And then Oblivion.

A/N: Sorry, it took me so long to update, but the real life struck me. My brother's accident and the exam's. This was just a short interlude or filler to tell this is not abandoned.

Please review. That's the only bright thing right about now. Plus, it makes me a better author. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.

Ta-ta,

Marcus Caesar.