It was a warm summer night, and the stars were out and about their business shining brightly.
There's surely much to be appreciated in the magic and awe skies above inspire in us when
sprinkled with such pretty glowing points. The gentle touch of the night's breeze would make
you glad to be alive, I can assure you. The scene is magical, no doubt about that. But the
events that will follow will be even more extraordinary.
It just so happens that on this night, a train is gliding surreptitiously across the European coast
under the cover of darkness.
On board, what you'd expect to see: a train conductor. The man of about fifty, balding and of
dark complexion bore a grey moustache contorting comically on his lip as he flexed and
compressed his face in an expression of one lost in thought. He held in his hands a sphere
roughly the size of a basketball. The object in question was marble colour and made entirely of
paper with a piece of string sticking out from the bottom. If I were to compare it to an object you
may be more familiar with, I'd say it resembled one of those lamps that hold candles in their
centre, some Asian cultures light, to guide their departed to the other side, or to send a
well-intended wish to the heavens above.
The man, who went by the name of Tom, sat up straight and pulled on the aforementioned
strand of string. The sphere reacted to this action by spreading a bright light all through the
cabin. Then, seemingly as if by its own will, began to float above the conductor. The ball emitted
this high pitch whistle similar to that of a pressure cooker that has reached its limit but won't
blow for some reason.
As if the scene could not be more unusual, the inanimate object began speaking in a monotone
voice. It asked the following question.
"When and why was the Unforgivable curse Crutio created?"
It went silent suddenly and all that could be heard was Tom tapping a wand on the cover of a
thick leather book which, upon being touched by his magic stick, flipped instantly through
hundreds of pages and landed on the one that contained the answer to the sphere's inquiry. He
read but remained silent, the glowing sphere looming overhead.
After a long pause, he looked at a picture frame that laid next to the controls of the moving
machine he commandeered.
"Well, my boy, do you know?" sang the conductor in a joyous tone. His voice was such you had
to wonder what his laughter sounded like though those close to Tom knew it suited the soul like
a warm blanket does in a rainy evening.
The portrait of a good looking teenage boy with short and dark brown hair shifted uncomfortably
in the frame. The boy wouldn't quit fidgeting with his fingers.
"Huh, hmmm, I want to say it happened during the goblin rebellions of the 17th and 18th
century. It was developed to extract information from the goblins who showed incredible
resistance to Veritaserum."
The boy smiled sheepishly, hoping, then directed his gaze towards the noisy floating ball. Its
dimming light blinking at the boy's hesitation.
The sphere began sparkling a green light on and off, spun wildly in place and, as though it
couldn't have been any worse, began spewing a dark foul-smelling smoke.
"I'm afraid you got Crucio and Imperio mixed up," coughed Tom from behind the curtain of
smoke. "Imperio was developed during the goblin rebellions as a way to submit goblins to our
will.
Crucio was actually created during the muggle witch trials of the 16th century. Wizards of the
time had reliable information that there were some magic-folks revealing the secrets of our world
to muggle women in an attempt to create chaos amongst wizard society, and since Imperio and
Veritaserum had yet to be invented, the Ministry decided to copy the methods of muggles of the
time and devised a spell to torture the suspected traitors in hopes they would confess." Tom
shut the thick tome and blew a comforting kiss in his boy's direction.
The floating paper ball began emitting a rainbow coloured light and an otherworldly melody
which sounded like the song of a bird not yet discovered.
"Shoot dad! I doubt I'll ever be ready for the real world!" complained the boy in frustration as his
forehead hit his desk.
"Don't worry lad, those goblins at Gringotts would be lucky to have you! You are the most
talented wizard in the family! Surely you'll go far, I just know it!" said his dad with a smile always
meant to comfort those near him.
The young boy perked up and readied himself for the next question. He wouldn't let his father
down again. His mind settling on this statement caused for some reason a drop in the
temperature of the cabin.
"Now son, what have I told you about your emotions?" Interrupted Tom.
The boy, suddenly, felt compelled to bottle them up together with his gift, for it was too
dangerous even at such a distance.
Now that I have borrowed your creativity to set this piece, I'd like to welcome you back to the
magical world of Harry Potter. A world where magic is completely commonplace yet to us
muggles seems to evoke child-like excitement and wonder.
This is the story of the first wizarding war. An as of yet untold event that began on this night
during the secret voyage of the Damon Express making its way back from mainland Europe into
England.
The Express made many stops during its journey. The mysterious ancient forests of Austria, the
great majestic peaks of Romania. It stopped also at the skirts of one of Europe's many
volcanoes, namely Mount Etna.
Neither Tom nor the Aurors protecting the Damon Express knew what super important load it
carried. They were only told that any bandits of the wizarding world would love to get their dirty
hands on its prize.
Suddenly the door of the conductor's compartment slides open and a much younger man with
dark circles under his eyes and shaggy, greasy hair steps into the cabin.
"Oh, there you are Mark! Is it already midnight? Wouldn't you know it? Time flies when you
spend time with your loved ones!"
Mark says nothing as his gaze takes turns between Tom and the paper sphere floating so
casually mid air.
"Oh, I was just helping Junior here study for his OWLs. Professor Binn remains quite the tough
marker. I got a Dreadful my fifth year on History of Magic, and I'm afraid a bad report would
hinder my boy's ambitions. He plans to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, you know?"
Junior smiled and waved awkwardly at Mark, who did not return the greeting but clenched his
jaw and stared out the window.
"It's time you get some shut-eye." Mark said to his coworker. His voice was calm and firm but
something in his tone made Tom feel as if he'd just been threatened.
He ignored the nagging feeling.
"Would you mind it very much if I stayed a couple hours to help Junior revise?" Tom said with a
proud smile on his face.
"Do as you wish," was Mark's curt reply.
Mark had been acting a bit odd, Tom thought. Ever since they'd stopped at that picturesque
wizard village at the skirts of Mount Etna to load a payload of their secret cargo, Mark had been
distant and apathetic. But Mark was always cold and seemed rude to most people, so Tom
dismissed Mark's cold tone blaming the stress of the assignment for his stoic demeanour.
But nothing could dampen Tom's spirits. His son had been made prefect this year at Hogwarts
and was an honour student, he'd reached heights Tom had never been able to in his student
years. He wanted to stay and practise with his son for he felt Junior's success was somehow his
as well.
Suddenly, water begins splashing the windows and when most people would be thinking it's
raining, Tom smiled knowingly and chanted merrily.
"I see we've finally made it to the Channel!"
Wait, what did you just read? Did you imagine the Damon Express crossing the Channel that
separates England from France? Well then you'd be correct! The train's bewitched with a spell
that allows it to glide smoothly over water.
Salty water splashes the windows and the outer shell of the Damon Express as the steel
serpent breaks through waves and braves the water around it. But, wouldn't muggles spot it off
the coast or from a boat?
A train gliding over water is something extraordinary and would certainly lift the veil on the
magical world wizards want to keep secret.
So, let me tell you of another spell infused on the paint of this most peculiar train. Because of
the outer coat, only people bestowed with the magic spark can see it, so muggles can't see it.
This allows the Express to slither past the muggle ships that are on the Channel at all times and
go by them unnoticed.
On one of these passenger ships, an eleven year old girl, spots the train off to starboard.
"Mommy, daddy! There's a train braving the water!" Her parents look but don't spot it, so they
conclude it must be Mary's overactive imagination again. Their daughter's always seeing things
that are not there and is the subject of many unexplained events. Little do young Mary's parents
know that summer, little Mary is to receive her acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry, becoming the first witch in her family.
Eventually, the train makes its approach to the English coast but there's no port anywhere in
sight awaiting its arrival. The Express does not slow down and heads straight into a massive
stone cliff that towers over the shore.
"I think we're near enough," mumbles Mark under his breath, he then pulls on a lever on the
dashboard.
The lamp in front of the train comes to life cutting through the darkness and foam of the ocean.
When its glow hits the cold hard rock of the cliff, the peculiar miracle of magic once more makes
an appearance.
A series of sparks begins to emanate from the dark stone, as if it's flint that wants to light up the
chilly night. The sparks begin to spin and take the shape of a circle which begins to expand little
by little, leaving behind them a hole in the rock through which the Damon Express smoothly
slides through.
Now the train is in a cavern and speeds on. Sporadically along the hard walls of the stone, blue
flames float midair guiding the train through the way it created.
Finally after a long while, the train exits the cavern on the other side of the cliff and finds itself
crossing a prairie where there are rails that someone laid there but are seldom used. The track
however, is not typical steel. The wheels of the Express burn scarlet, as if they've just come out
of a blacksmith's forge. There's traction between the train's wheels and the tracks, resulting in
pink sparks flying everywhere. The sparks, for some reason, don't burn the grass of the vast
fields surrounding this magic machine.
The breeze I described earlier causes the tall grass that grows here to swing from side to side.
The sky remains cloudless and the stars keep shining bright as if they too are bewitched to look
abnormally adorable against the pitch-black mantle that's their contrast.
The train sails quietly and smoothly through the prairie. All seems serene and quiet, except for
the spectacle that is a train that lights up the tracks hot red and spreads pink sparkles as it
goes.
There are eight rail cars comprising the Damon Express: the front car where the conductor is
located. Three cars that carry its mysterious cargo, and four passenger cars located on the tail
end of the Express.
I now command the scene to move into the inside of the last car of the Damon Express.
In this compartment we find a man in his early twenties fast asleep, head resting against the
window and his scarf covering most of his face. He's wearing a green coat made of wool from
an expensive clothing brand.
A young man of around the same age enters the compartment. He's been ordered to wake up
the sleeping Auror but stands at the threshold of the door hesitant.
"What are you waiting for? Go on lad! Wake him up! it's his watch, ain't it!?" Another much older
gentleman, tells the hesitant youngling.
"I know that," he replies. "But the fellow has such a mean disposition. You know how wild he is
and the rep he has at the Ministry."
"Oy! Don't make me doubt your mettle now lad! Aurors trust each other with their lives, and if
you are intimidated by one of our own, what can I expect from you when you come face to face
with a dark wizard intent on taking you out?
I know you're new to the trade, but c'mon, grow a pair!"
He then gave the young man an encouraging push.
"If you wished not to disturb me perhaps you should have kept your mouths shut." Expressed
the third man in the chamber as he rose from slumber.
"Oy, don't blame the lad! We're supposed to take turns!" Replies Mr. Stark at the man's rude
remark.
The man in turn, gets up and exits the carriage without a word or backwards glance, clearly
annoyed.
"Don't let him talk to you like that! You ought to learn to stand up for yourself if you want a long
career as an Auror, lad!"
"I'm sorry Mr. Stark, but that man is such a loose cannon. I've seen him snap over the most
trivial things, and I know for a fact he ain't to be messed with. They say he can hold his own
against that famous duelist Sirius Black."
"That much is true. He is a fantastic dueler. I reckon that's why the Head of the Department puts
up with him."
"I hear Dumbledore has a say in it too."
The man in question steps out of the car and onto the chilly night air.
He holds onto the handrail as he lights up a cigarette. He stares at the starry sky grateful there's
been no full moon this week. If it were a different time of the month, his assignment would have
been impossible.
As he stares at the stars, Remus Lupin tries to remember what he'd been dreaming of moments
before.