The Boundary of Magic

Chapter 1: A Sunny Morning

        Mr. Jordan of Number Nine, Gardiners Lane, Crays Hill, Basildon, was an extremely handsome, tall man, with brilliant blue eyes, and light-brown hair. He was quite well known in the locality, having hosted quite a number of gatherings in his mansion. He was known for his exuberant decorations, which, astonishingly enough, could never be replicated, with any amount of trial. The feasts at his residence were unparalleled, and nobody ever had complaints. Though, his occupation remained a mystery. Many had asked, but no one had ever received a straight answer, and this led to suspicions, and rumours. "Well, you see, I do a little bit of reading, listening and talking," was the best anyone got out of him.

         The Jordans' mansion stood at the end of the lane, being the first house to be seen by anyone who turned into the lane. It had a graceful arch that guarded the stairs, which led to the polished, wide, ebony door. Anyone who entered and walked through the corridor could have a view of the brilliantly lighted hall, draped in embroidered light grey, with huge, thick, dark grey curtains at the end, and a velvet dark brown carpet on the floor. At the end of the hall was another huge door, which always remained locked. Fine paintings hung from the walls, and a grand chandelier added a final touch. The hallway also had a few more doors occupying them, which led to the large and luxurious bathrooms. Towards the right rose a spiral of stairs, leading to the next level, that had a bedroom, which was again, needless to say, extremely luxurious, and a ball room, which was used quite frequently. Towards the left of the hall was the dining room, which often housed many fabulous feasts. Finally, there was the third level, which was never opened to guests. They assumed that it housed his library, of which he spoke boastfully.

         Everyone knew that Mr. Jordan's wife had passed away, though no one asked how, afraid they were that he might be upset. When one young Charles dared to ask, he brushed it off, saying, "It was a terrible accident. Fine woman she was, Meta." But no one knew what kind of accident it was, and they never questioned him further. He had a six-year-old son named Percival Jordan, better known as Perce. He looked strikingly similar to his father, handsome, with brilliant blue eyes, except that he had auburn hair. Amongst the many things they didn't understand about Mr. Jordan was why Perce never attended school.

        ''Oy Justin," called the neighbour, Ms. Carl, once. "Why doncha send the kid to school? Want to spoil him with your wealth, eh?" She cackled, in her high-pitched voice.

         "Never mind that, he'll go in time, Minnie." He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. Minalda Carl was an old widow, notorious for being brutally honest, though often rude, and everyone knew better than to take her seriously.

          In short, Justin Jordan was very good at keeping secrets, even from the most nosy neighbours, whose knowledge about him was limited to the fact that he had a brilliant cook, and an even better artist, who they presumed to have suggested all those decorations during the parties. An example of this was his mode of transportation to work. One of the neighbours had set Charles to tail him when he left for work, walking briskly in his neat suit, but it was in vain. Charles could follow him till the end of the road, where it took a turn, and then he would just — disappear. Though, of course, none believed Charles in this story, and blamed it on his laziness instead. Once, Charles tried to act clever and hid behind a bush before Mr. Jordan arrived. To his surprise, he heard a deep voice calling, "Go back home, son, it won't do you any good to be outside when it's this chilly!" Mr. Jordan was smiling down at him when he came out, but it remained a mystery how he ever found out. He just turned, walked a few steps, then hurried back again only to see an empty road. Mr. Jordan disappeared again, and Charles slunk away, disappointed.

         One such day, after 'disappearing', he arrived at his destination, which surprisingly enough was a fireplace. With green flames he appeared, and walked out, as though it was perfectly normal, looking at the marvellous fountain that had a sculpture of a man holding a stick straight up in the air, with a woman holding another, and three other creatures admiring them. Water sprouted from the sticks, the arrow of one of the creatures, the hat of another, and the ears of the third. He walked on, to the end of the long hallway, where the polished, dark wooden floor ended. He proceeded to enter the lift, and pressed a button, and waited for it to move. After greeting rather many men and women in the short interval of travelling two floors, he got off. He walked again for half the length of the hallway, and entered his office, after waving a stick (which looked strikingly similar to that in the sculpture) at his clothes, which gracefully transformed from a Muggle suit to long, plum-colored robes, with a silver 'W' embroidered on it. He seemed to think all this perfectly normal, though Minnie, if she saw this, would have immediately had a panic attack.

         It was really because Justin Jordan was a wizard, that the Muggles could never understand his suspicious activity. Obviously, they would consider him insane if he told them that he worked at a 'Ministry of Magic' or that he was a member of the 'Wizengamot', where he did his 'reading, listening, and talking'. It was best kept quiet. And there was also the fact that he could be prosecuted if he spoke about it to any Muggle. He had learnt from his father the how-to of living in a Muggle area, attracting no significant suspicions. And then, of course, his wealth was something he had inherited from his family, who were all wizards too.

* * *

         Nearly five years later, on a sunny morning of 1960, the post arrived as usual. Perce went to get it, and came back, and sat down in a chair.

         "Dad, I finally got the letter," He said, smiling slightly, waving an envelope with a purple wax seal bearing the coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. "I thought they'd forgotten, it's so late, really."

         "Well, congratulations," his father said, looking up from the Daily Prophet. Chuckling, he added, "but you know, it is common for first years to be excited when they get the letter, rather than behave like it was a weekly magazine —"

         "Come on, dad, I've been able to control my magic since a year now, it was quite obvious I'd get it," he threw the envelope in the air, and it stopped mid-air, the purple wax seal facing him. He moved his hands towards it, when it started opening by itself. "But yes," he turned to his father again, his smile wider, "I am excited to be going to Hogwarts! All those people, with magic, and those books..." he turned to the envelope again, with a dreamy look.

         "Well, at least Minnie won't trouble me with her worries about your future anymore," his father chuckled.

         "Yeah she won't, and I don't even know why we talk to Muggles, but anyway — Toby, what's for breakfast? I'm starving, and you can see that it's kind of a special day today..." he half-glanced at his father, smiling. Mr. Jordan shook his head, and went back to reading the paper.

       Toby was the house-elf, the secret of their extremely successful feasts in the parties. He was short, the height of any house-elf, with a pointed nose and two large, flappy ears, with huge blue-colored eyes. He looked really happy, seeing his young Master pleased. "There is bacon, scrambled eggs and sausages today, Master. Toby has just decided to prepare them as it is a special day for Master!" he said, in a squeaky, excited voice, his eyes shining. "Unless, of course, Master favours something else?" He added, looking at Perce with great devotion.

         "Oh you're just wonderful, Toby. Whatever you just said are fine," he said to the flustered house-elf, who bowed deeply and went away, pleased to hear the rare words of praise from his Master. "I'll be right back, dad," he added to his father, who nodded while still reading. Perce went upstairs to the third level, which housed his own room.

         Unlike the rest of the house which was frequently visited by Muggles, this level had all the proof that this family had wizards. Dusting pans and brooms flew around to clean any mess immediately, pictures in the frames were moving, and the library here had books that flew and dropped in your hand when you said their names. Perce's room was slightly different from the other parts of the house, having been covered with green and silver, the colours of his dream House at Hogwarts, Slytherin. The mark of Slytherin, the great serpent, stared down from the wall above the large bed, it's tongue flicking out every now and then. He ran towards the calendar which he'd stuck a week ago, and marked the day in the calendar, to strike off days until the first of September. He smiled to himself, and sprinted downstairs, to his delicious breakfast.