Chapter 1: The Birth of Greatness

"Our world was dying." the Lord Slytherin began, voice slow and soft. Yet his words carried across the plaza easily, willing themselves to be heard. His captive audience, a thousand skull masks standing in rigid vigil, heard his every sound with complete clarity despite the distance.

"I woke up one day and saw the truth for what it was. For every pure-born that entered the Society, there were two more mages born from..." his handsome features contorted, as if he were forced to swallow something particularly bitter, "muggles. We were faced with insurmountable odds, a seemingly unending tide of barbarians endangering our very way of life."

"We demanded something be done, but our government, so infested with blood traitors, was crippled by inaction and incompetence." Here, his voice became a passionate, angry crescendo that punctuated every word. "The oblivion of culture a millennia old, and some chose to remain blind! Even worse, some embraced it!"

"What woman abandons her lineage? What man rejects his traditions? What people forget their history? Our world stood at the crossroads, and those of us who were faithful, those of us still believed…we made a choice. We chose to fight." A growl of assent greeted him, the first sign of life from the gathered.

"Every inch we took, every battle we won, we paid for in full and in blood. Pure blood." His voice became somber, extinguished of the fire it held, and for a moment, he looks mournful even. "Hundreds of people lay dead. People we could never replace, people with the gift of magic."

"Yet, we endured." A clenched fist rose. "'Why?' I have been asked countless times. 'Why the sacrifice? Why the pain and toil? Why fight?'" he asked, spreading his arms invitingly to the crowd.

"It is because of our responsibility to those before us and those after us." Eyes swept from side to side, spotting the nodding heads and knowing smiles. "My Knights of Walpurgis understand this solemn duty: the obligation to preserve the old and teach the young. No conscious thoughts were necessary."

"So together we endured, together we fought…and together we triumphed!" The deafening roar of approval tore through the air. "We bring about a new age - a golden age - of magic and of purity!"

A chant began from the Knights. "Pu-ri-ty!" they shout in a simple three beat rhythm accompanied with the thumping of chests. "Pu-ri-ty!" The fervor spreading from these pockets in an ever expanding circle until the entire crowd has been seized with ardent passion.

"This, my friends," the Lord Slytherin smiled at his chanting Knights, wand raised in salute at the climax of their euphoria, "is but the beginning of our revolution!"

-The Walpurgis Compendium: A Pensieve Recollection – "The Beginning of Revolution" (London, 1982)

-The Magnate-

"I don't want that woman in this house."

The quill in James Potter's hand stilled abruptly, his attempt at a letter "e" smudging the parchment with inky blots. Quill now resting in inkpot, he took a moment to set aside his half-finished letter, before leaning back into his leather chair in anticipation of the next spat with his lawful spouse.

"Shall I arrange for lessons to be held in the broom shed then?" he answered wryly, steepling his fingers in front of him.

The brown-haired woman huffed and crossed her arms. "That's not what I meant." she more hissed than said really, dropping into the seat across James'.

"We're lucky she agreed to tutor the kids. She's a well known Charms Mistress. Do you realize how difficult it is to hire someone of her academic standing?" he said.

"I don't want her near my son."

"And she won't be," James assured her, before his tone gained a forceful edge to it, "but she will be teaching mine." he said, maintaining a façade of calm in spite of the flaring anger, the kind that any husband would be wary of, beneath her eyes.

"No mudblood should be teaching a member of the Potter family!" she spat out, a scowl marring her normally elegant features. "I might not be his birth mother, but I am still the woman of this household!"

And normally that would be fine…if she wasn't such a bigot. Hence, Harry would always receive substandard education if she was left unchecked, James knew. That left him with his last resort: an exchange.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with Harry's education anymore. I'll be taking over from now on, but you may teach Robert in whatever way you see fit."

A flash of hurt showed, but she weighed the option in silent contemplation nonetheless. "Fine," she spoke forced calm, which left James wondering if he preferred this over outright anger, "you've made it clear that the half-blood bastard is yours to take care of, but don't think for an instant that I'll let a mudblood teach our heir." With her piece spoken, she stormed out of the room, passing by a curious Sirius Black on the way.

Sirius knocked on the still open door, announcing his presence. "Trouble with the wife, James?" The ease in which he delivered he words betrayed his familiarity with the situation.

James spared his best friend a wounded glance, before standing to pour himself a glass of scotch. "Unfortunately." A heavy exhale escaped his lips. "Want one?" James asked, swishing the amber liquid around invitingly.

"Really?" went unsaid, though the raised brow conveyed it well enough. "It's barely six," Sirius said.

James shrugged unrepentantly, downing his drink in one go before placing his glass back in the alcohol cabinet. "Sometimes, I wonder how different life might've been if I married Lily after Hogwarts."

"You'd have fewer fights, for one, because Evans had you whipped," said Sirius, well aware that his friend never had the strength to deny his former love what she wanted, except for one time.

"Just me, her and Harry." murmured James wistfully, his hand passing through his already messy hair.

"Look on the bright side, James." Sirius' attempt at consolation earned him a skeptical look. "Now hear me out, Melissa might not be the most pleasant person to get along with, but at least she's hot. And let's not forget my gem of a godson. Can you honestly tell me you'd rather Robert was never born?"

At his words, the ends of James' lips curled into a faint smile. "Thanks Padfoot."

His reassuring nod said what his mouth didn't. "What are friends for?"

"Are you staying for dinner? Knowing Zippy, she's probably enough cooked for a small army."

Sirius was already shaking his head, face turning grim. "Not tonight. We're heading out."

Startled by the sudden one-eighty in attitude, James glanced at the darkening skies through his window, then at the calendar on his desk. "It's not a full moon tonight."

"No, it isn't, but Moony's…" Sirius hesitated, eyes darting around suspiciously, "well, it's not my right to say." He reached up and stroked the flap of his ear twice.

James' eyes lit up with sudden understanding. It was part of a secret code from their old school days. "Sensitive information, area unsecure." it meant. Of course, "sensitive information" didn't mean a life or death situation before and "area unsecure" then wasn't concerning spies, but that was the gist of the message.

"I'll grab my coat."

Sirius stepped outside, giving James a moment to clear his desk and put on his cloak. A minute later he joined his friend and made to leave. Or they would have had, if not for two sweating, disheveled boys running at them.

One was a miniature James Potter, except for one crucial detail. The recently-turned-ten-year-old boy's eyes were green, the same as his mother's. Harry Potter, the eldest, but not the heir.

The other, a lad of eight, had softer, rounder features. His hair was auburn, which was his mother showing. Robert Potter, the younger and the beneficiary of the modest Potter estate. The legitimate son, born from duty, who society had arbitrarily decided was the worthier of the two based on the mere circumstances of their birth.

Not that either knew that currently, and that was how James Potter intended to keep things. They were still young. It would be a tragedy to set them against each other, for few things were more sacred in the world than the bonds of brotherhood. James' eyes briefly darted towards Sirius, his chosen brother in all but name, wishing, not for the first time, that his parents had adopted Sirius when he had been disowned from the Black family.

A persistent tugging on his cloak broke the chains that reflection placed on one's mind.

"Daddy!" Robert squealed, giggling happily in the carefree manner only children under the age of ten could manage. "Uncle Sirius!"

"Father, Uncle Sirius." Harry nodded respectfully to each in greeting.

Sirius chuckled, patting Harry in the head condescendingly. "You're too polite for your age. I don't think I ever called my father 'father' until I was in my teen years," he reminisced. Sirius hadn't afforded the term with the same politeness either, James thought.

Harry's face scrunched up, looking like he was trying to recall something. "Mother says I'll be part of society soon. She says I'm to act the part as a son of a pureblood...and that she would be most displeased if I brought shame to the family."

James shared a worried look with Sirius. Just what in the hell was that woman teaching his son? He was beginning to sound like one of those pureblood snobs he went to school with for Merlin's sake!

"So, just came back from Quidditch practice then?" Sirius asked in the lull of conversation.

"Yup!" they answered together cheerily. It was, without a doubt, their favorite activity of the week.

"Tell your mother I'm going out for the night and not to wait up, alright? I've got some urgent business." He glanced around just to be sure she wasn't nearby, before leaning in conspiratorially. "I might have time to pass by Diagon Alley later. You boys want anything?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Candy!"

James stood up, promising the eager boys their fair share of sweets. Ah, it was good to be the favorite parent!

"Oh and Harry?"

Curious, green orbs met his own black ones. "Yes father?"

"I've spoken to your mother-" Forgive me for lying, Harry. "-and from now on I'll be in charge of your education. I've arranged for a tutor to make sure you don't hurt yourself while learning magic, seeing how eager you are to get started."

A grin broke out on Harry's face, mirroring how James felt, despite the stern mask he was forced to don. "Of course, this comes at some conditions. No more swiping wands when your mother isn't looking and especially no more trying to do magic without supervision," James said in his most disciplining voice. "I want you to promise me, son. I'm being serious here. Wanting to learn magic, that's normal for any boy your age, but unsupervised magic is dangerous stuff."

"I promise." Judging by the fervent nods, he probably would have sold his soul away without blinking or even better, agree to be their house elf for life.

"Good, now the tutor I chose is a muggleborn, but despite what your mother says about them, she is more than qualified to teach. I want you to treat her with utmost respect. You will attend lessons on time and listen to her instructions without fail. Am I clear?"

Another nod, another promise secured.

"Good." James said. "Lessons will be held on Tuesdays and Fridays. See you boys later."

"Quite the parent you've become," Sirius said once they had Apparated away. "Looking for advanced instruction for your kids? I never thought I'd see the day James Potter promoted studying!"

James shrugged. "Learning magic is a bonus. I just don't want him growing up having never met his mum and I'm sure Lily is desperate to see him too."

"You don't think Melissa will see through it though?"

"I have no doubts that she will, and she'll be giving them a hard time about it too…but it'll be worth it." I hope, he added in his head.

"For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice." Sirius said, slapping him on the back. "Let's see what Moony's up to, shall we?"

They found their mutual friend in his humble abode that was well kept, which was the only positive thing you could say about it. It was too small, more suitable for dwarves than wizards really and the signs of damage were there, despite its occupant's best attempts to patch it up.

"Should we wait for Peter?" James asked.

"No," Sirius answered, "he told me he'd catch up later on."

They headed outside apartment quickly, seeing as it was far too cramped for three grown wizards, and into the Alley. The first pub they tried was a nice establishment James tried just the other week.

The bouncer had a scrutinizing gaze that hardened when it landed on Moony. "Sorry, we don't serve his kind here."

"His kind?" Sirius acted confused. This ploy had worked a few times before.

The bouncer showed them a nasty grin and showed them an amulet hidden in his robes. "This here's a half-breed detector. Warns me whenever, say, a werewolf, is around."

Remus Lupin was a rugged man with sandy hair looking close to his thirties. If not for his appearance, he would be the perfect gentleman. Everything about him, from his charming, if mild, manners to his soft-spoken words which were brimming with intellect portrayed an individual that should have been successful in life.

As the bouncer callously pointed out, he was a werewolf, which had shot that idea to hell.

The people that had heard the declaration instinctively coiled back in fright, whispering and pointing at Remus, as if his very presence was a crime.

"Come on." James led them away before an incident occurred. "We'll try the Leaky Cauldron. Ol' Tom never let us down before."

The Leaky Cauldron was not as rundown as it sounded. Tom, the barkeeper, seated them quickly, which wasn't too difficult since it was mostly empty on nights like this.

Their fourth friend, Peter, joined them after half an hour. A late shift was his excuse.

Peter Pettigrew was a mousy looking fellow. To most he seemed like a coward whom the three associated with out of pity, for he did not bring anything apparent to the table. Yet, those who knew him knew of his value as a man who could get into the most secure places in the world without much trouble. Elusive as a rat and sly as a fox, he was born to survive in nearly any condition.

So when the Dark Lord took over, he was the one who bounced back the fastest among the four with a comfy, well-paying Ministry job under the Regime.

"I refuse to sell out," Remus said, crossing his arms.

"It's not that bad a job, considering the pay," Peter argued. "You scare a few people, mostly to stop them from getting killed for boldness."

"Oppression is what it is!"

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes, you just have to get by."

"Look Remus," James interjected before the discussion became more heated, "we're not saying you should do as Peter suggests, but there's got to be another way. Me and Sirius don't mind spotting you some coin."

"That's charity, James."

"It's a favor among friends." was James' futile counter. Once the "C" word was mentioned, Lupin could, would become as stubborn as a troll.

"Leaving the country isn't the solution," Sirius said, setting down his drink.

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look guys, I thought long and hard about this before deciding. This isn't some spur of the moment thing I'm pulling. The fact is," he stressed, "there's no employment opportunity for a werewolf in Britain, especially one that went against the Dark Lord in the war." He raised a hand to ward off their arguments.

"And even if I put my morals aside to work for the Ministry, Peter could never get me a spot. Fenrir Greyback runs that show and the only way he'd let me in is if there was a body bag waiting on the other side."

That was the crux of the problem. Fenrir Greyback, possibly the most vicious werewolf in all of Britain and one of the Dark Lord's trusted Knights, held a vendetta against Remus, for reasons even his closest friends didn't know of.

The three remained silent, coming to terms with the reality that their friend was leaving the country, and would likely never return.

"What are you going to do in Eastern Europe?" asked James, shattering the silence with curiosity.

"I'm probably going to be a tracker for a while. The Potions trade is booming over there." Remus rubbed his chin, which his friends knew he did only when planning something. "I might try my hand at teaching. A Hogwarts education should warrant that much even with my condition."

"I hear the Bulgarian Veelas are even better than the French ones," Sirius said, tone light and lecherous. "You should definitely tap that while you're there. Merlin knows you need to get laid."

James and Peter shared a laugh, and even the stoic Lupin cracked a smile. "I will, if only because you'll never get the chance, Padfoot."

Another round of raucous laughter ensued, followed by the distinctive sound of a second fire whiskey bottle opening. In the early morning before the first light even, they saw him off. "A Portkey to France first," Remus said, his old school trunk in hand.

Can't believe he managed to fit everything in there without an Expansion Charm.

"From there, " Remus continued, "I have a second Portkey schedules to bring my to Budapest. I can make my way further east on foot, if it's called for."

James watched his friend for the longest time walk out of his life, a sense of unease stirring in his chest. Dark clouds hung overhead.

A storm is brewing.

-The Magnate-

16 October 1990

Tap, tap, tap, went Harry's foot. "Robert, hurry up!"

His dad chuckled behind him. "What's with the rush, Harry? You can't actually be late for the Center and it's not like I'm in any rush."

Harry turned around to frown at him. "I, well...Mother says punctuality is a virtue any proper wizard should practice."

James raised a brow at him, quietly sipping his coffee from behind the kitchen counter. Harry flushed and murmured, "I don't want to keep my friends waiting."

"They won't mind terribly, I'm sure," Dad said.

Harry opened his mouth, hesitated, then called out "Robert!" once more.

"Coming!" his brother answered this time, hasty steps down the staircase reaching them.

"Breakfast?" Dad asked, gesturing to a plate of toast and eggs on the counter. "Zippy made your favorite."

Robert shifted his gaze from the sandwich to the side of Harry's hip then back to the sandwich, as if considering something of world-shattering importance. "I'll eat it on the way," Robert said. In an instant, Zippy popped in, placed the food in a brown bag and offered it to Robert respectfully, before popping out of sight.

"Kids." James snorted. "Well, come on then," he said, stopping by the door to grab an umbrella. "Put on your cloak boys, it'll be chilly outside." Harry obliged, putting on his black cloak, plain and unremarkable except for the black winged horse - his favorite animal since forever - stitched onto the back. Robert's was the same, except his was an even larger winged creature - a dragon.

James stepped out the door and opened the umbrella, watching as it adjusted its radius a few times before settling on one perfect for the three of them. A raindrop stopped in front of Harry's eyes, sliding down as if there was a window in its way.

Robert glanced at Harry again, and the two shared an excited grin. "Remember your promise, Harry," Dad said, though he smiled too.

"It's so cool that you've got one," Robert said, then he turned to their dad. "When's my turn?"

James patted him on the head, ruffling his hair much to Robert's displeasure. "When you're older."

"That's what you always say," Robert said.

"Well, your mother and I haven't decided yet."

He pouted.

"Cheer up Rob," Harry said. "Soon enough, I'll get to do magic and you can watch." Father gave him a warning look. "Under the tutor's supervision, of course," he amended.

Rob's frown cracked a little and Harry decided to press forward. "Why don't we go flying after we get home?"

"Really?" Robert asked, eyes lighting up.

"Yeah, why not? Captain told us a game was coming up soon. We'll need the practice."

"Yes!"

James shook his head ruefully, the Center's doors now in sight. It was a very short walk from their home, and with how the muggle unconsciously avoided them, they could take a straight path to get here. "In you go, boys. Remember to behave."

"Yes Dad!" they said in unison, giving him a quick hug before running inside.

"See you later, Brother!" Robert said waving as he ran off in another direction. Harry waved back and went his own way.

"Good morning!" Harry greeted, a skip in his step as he neared three kids his age.

Lavender gave him a shy wave and a small smile.

"Aren't we in a good mood," Daphne said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes drifted down, then she smiled as she noticed the stick by his side, tucked into a hip holster.

"Buongiorno, Potter," Blaise said, his nose crinkling. "Parents finally let you have one then?" He patted his own wand, clearly visible by his side as well.

"Obviously, Blaise," said Daphne. "Is it from Ollivanders'?" she asked, grey eyes sparking with unbidden interest. Her own wand, Harry knew, was hidden in her robes.

Harry grinned, his chest puffing out a little. "Yeah, got it on Saturday with my dad. Eleven inches and elm with freely given Abraxan feather."

"Have you done any...any magic yet?" Lavender asked, scooting over to his side with wide eyes.

"Yeah Potter, I'm in need of a proper challenge to measure up against, after all," Blaise said.

"Excuse me?" Daphne narrowed her eyes at the dark-skinned wizard. "Just because you got your wand first-" Blaise smirked. "does not mean that you-" She clamped her mouth shut abruptly and shook her head.

"Aww, don't be like that, Daph. I'm just teasing." Blaise said. "Anyway, Potter hasn't answered yet."

"Er, I swore to my dad I wouldn't do magic outside of my lessons." Harry said. "Sorry."

"Oh," murmured Lavender, fiddling with her hair now. Her eyes darted down to her own side, noticeably without a wand of her own.

"Worried about that still?" Daphne asked. "Don't fret. You'll get a wand of your own any day now."

"A-are you sure?"

"Of course!" Blaise exclaimed, flashing her a charming smile. "You've got as much magic as her." He gestured to Daphne with a thumb. "Maybe not as much as me, but hey, we can't all be as great as I am." Daphne scowled at him, while Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

There was a distinct popping sound and a floppy eared creature with wrinkled, sallow skin appeared near them, carrying a tray of cookies and milk. Wordlessly, it paused before each of them with a bowed head as it offered them the treats as if they were royalty. Lavender got hers last and she gave the House Elf a smile. "Thank you."

The Elf's eyes became round as saucers, and it popped away in an instant.

Harry's eyes snapped towards Lavender, wide open. Daphne and Blaise had similar expressions on their face. "Lavender," Daphne began, "you know what our parents say about that kind of behavior."

"If you're nice to the Elf, you can only blame yourself," Blaise recited.

"Or as my dad likes to say," Harry said, "'Idle and free, not meant to be."

Lavender cringed under their scrutiny. "S-sorry. It slipped my mind."

"It's fine." Daphne waved her hand. "We all slip up now and again. Just keep it in mind? We don't want you getting in trouble with Mrs. Bridgemoot."

"Good thing she wasn't here," Harry added.

"Anyway Harry, when's your first lesson going to be?" Blaise asked.

"Tomorrow," he said, then frowned. "My tutor's muggleborn though." Blaise wrinkled his nose in disdain, Lavender twiddled her fingers and Daphne nodded.

Blaise crossed his arms. "That's one way to waste your talent," Blaise said. "What's your father thinking?"

"He's pretty confident she'll do a good job."

"I guess you'll just have to study harder to make up for it, Harry," Daphne said.

"Yeah, you'll need it if you want to be second place," Blaise quipped.

"Second place?" Daphne asked, tone low.

"I'm first obviously," Blaise said, taking two quick steps back to avoid her swipe before grinning, "but there's no shame in being second to a Zabini!"

"Be thankful I don't know any hexes yet!" Daphne screamed.

"Like my mum always says," Blaise said with a wink, "if you need to get violent, you're probably losing the argument." Harry laughed lightheartedly. Even Lavender was smiling.

"An argument?" Harry repeated. "I thought you were just inherently superior. Didn't know it was up for debate."

Daphne paused, a slow-growing smile on her lips as she place a hand on her hip.

"A slip of the tongue, Potter." Blaise answered without missing a beat. "Obviously, I'm superior. I am me."

"Right." Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Um, i-its my birthday next week," Lavender said.

"Congratulations?" Blaise said. Daphne's fist was moving before he could react, much faster than before. "Ouch!"

"Prat." She stuck a tongue out at him. "Go on, Lav."

"There's be a party," she said, smiling weakly. "If you guys want to go, that is."

"Of course we'll go," Daphne said, a scandalized look crossing her face.

"There'll be cake right?" Blaise asked. Lavender nodded tentatively. "Well, I suppose I could make time in my schedule..."

Harry snorted. "Come off it Blaise. We know how dreadfully busy you are in your house all day." He turned to Lavender. "I'll be there."

Lavender turned to Blaise, uncertainty on her face. "What? Yes, yes, of course I'm going. You can always make time for a friend."

-The Magnate-

It was common for those from magical backgrounds to seek out advanced instruction in specific subjects in order to develop their talents early on. This was in no way a requirement for entrance into a top school – such as Hogwarts, Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, but it certainly didn't hurt to get a headstart. Among those from magical families, the practice was prevalent.

Over the years, it had caused a disparity between the performance of children from magical and non-magical backgrounds. Only a few muggleborns ever became practitioners of the magical arts with equal skill during the formative school years, so when one actually topped their year, it was understood that the person was exceptionally gifted.

Lily Evans was one such witch.

"Looking lovely as always, Pretty Lily," Potter greeted with a boyish smile, a trademark he retained from his Hogwarts days. He spread his arms wide, as if making to envelope her.

"Potter," she greeted, though made no moves to return his gesture. His smile faltered, then disappeared altogether under the withering glare the redhead refused to let up on. Potter's hands dropped to his sides almost as quickly as his nervous gaze dropped to his shoes.

"So…uh…how've things been?"

Nothing but the controlled heavy breathing James Potter was all too familiar with. The sound of a woman trying her hardest not to strangle him and James took the hint to shut up.

"Let's make something clear, Potter." The witch's words were sharp and biting, each one marked with a tone of malice usually reserved for enemies.

She took a forceful step forward and James took an instructive one backwards, nearly stumbling over. "What we had, what we once were, it's over. Finished." she paused, exhaling…dangerously. That was the only way James could describe it. "You don't ask about my life, and I don't ask about yours. Understood?"

James nodded mutely. He couldn't trust himself to say anything that wouldn't make this even worse for himself.

Lily nodded curtly, opened the door to the study and left him behind.

"Good morning, Miss!" her boy greeted politely, tilting his head.

Lily struggled as a torrent of emotion flooded her system, threatening to overwhelm her composure. Her breath hitched in her throat and she was pretty sure her heart had stopped beating. Her emotional state was a paradox of contrasting emotions; rapture and rage vying for dominance.

She mustn't be angry, her rational side knew. She should've been grateful to see him again. But one look at his face, which left no question as to who had sired him, summoned again the anger she felt for the father she was reminded of. Yet, she managed to keep it under control, for his eyes were a rich, deep emerald.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Her son asked, sounding worried presumably at her unresponsiveness.

"I…yes, I'm quite alright. Thank you for asking, Harry. You don't mind if I call you that do you?" she said in one breath and it showed when it took Harry a while to decipher the rushed words.

"Uh, sure I guess. Whatever you want Miss."

"Please," Lily said, smiling brightly at the son she hadn't seen for eight years, "call me Miss Lily. It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

-The Magnate-

"Formal education in the magical world officially begins at the age of eleven, so what do you with all your lads and lasses bouncing about with more energy than humanly possible? Simple, send them to the nearest Youth Center! These Ministry-operated Centers serve to bring the people of the Society closer together! Children from magical backgrounds can interact with others their age in a safe environment, under the watchful eyes of the appointed caretakers. To ensure convenience of access, a fireplace linked to the Floo system has been installed and more Centers have been opened to cater to certain magical enclaves."

-Youth Center Pamphlet by the Department of Magical Education