June 30th, 1992, Manhattan, New York, The Grand Hyatt Hotel, 9:15 AM
The conference hall of the Grand Hyatt was transformed into a peculiar blend of magical tradition and modern elegance. Floating candles illuminated the space alongside crystal chandeliers, while enchanted banners depicting both magical sigils and scientific diagrams hung from the walls. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation as wizards and witches from across the Americas settled into their seats.
Near the front row, three distinct figures caught the eye of many attendees.
A scholarly gentleman in an impeccable navy-blue three-piece suit adjusted his silvery square-frame glasses as he examined the conference programme. His dark chestnut hair was neatly combed, and his dark amber eyes sparkled with genuine interest as they scanned the list of speakers.
Beside him sat an eleven-year-old boy wearing a simple black hoodie over a checkered shirt, his jet-black hair perpetually unruly despite obvious attempts to tame it. Round glasses framed his bright emerald eyes, which darted nervously around the crowded hall before settling on the safety of his leather satchel's strap, which he clutched tightly.
On the boy's other side was a girl of similar age, her waist-length dirty blonde hair cascading down her back with an almost ethereal quality. Her protuberant silvery eyes gazed around the room with serene curiosity, occasionally pausing as if seeing things others could not. She wore a simple pale blue dress and her distinctive radish earrings.
"This is quite exciting, isn't it, Hah-ree?" Luna's dreamy voice carried clearly to Harry despite the surrounding chatter. "I can see so many colours swirling around the room. The Wrackspurts seem quite agitated today."
Harry smiled despite his nervousness. "Yes, Luna. Dad said this would be important."
Ethan lowered the leaflet that was given at the entrance, his mouth curling into a gentle smile. "Indeed. Howard has been preparing this presentation for months. The No-Maj Studies Conference has historically been rather... conservative. This year promises to be different."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Howard approached their row with characteristic enthusiasm. The middle-aged wizard's eyes crinkled with genuine warmth as he spotted the trio.
"I hope the atmosphere suit your taste.." Howard extended his hand, which Ethan grasped firmly.
"Rest assure Howard, everything seem perfect to me." Ethan reaffirmed.
Howard voice then lowered slightly. "Everything is in place. The MACUSA representatives are seated in the back—I can feel their sceptical eyes boring holes through my skull already." He chuckled nervously. "And the... other arrangements are proceeding as planned."
Ethan's eyes gleamed with star-like brilliance for just a moment. "Excellent. Remember, Howard—conviction and evidence. Let your research speak for itself."
"Right. Well, I'd better take my seat. We'll be starting soon." Howard gave them a final nod before making his way to the stage.
...
The conference opened with the usual formalities—welcoming remarks from the organising committee, acknowledgments of distinguished guests, and a brief overview of the day's schedule. Harry fought the urge to fidget, using the Cognition technique Ethan had taught him to maintain his composure amid the crowd.
Luna, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, her unfocused gaze occasionally sharpening on specific individuals in the audience before drifting away again.
Finally, Howard took the podium. The room fell into an expectant hush.
"Good morning, colleagues. I stand before you today not to challenge our magical traditions, but to honour them by acknowledging an uncomfortable truth—we have been willfully blind to an entire world of knowledge that exists right alongside our own."
A ripple of whispers spread through the audience. In the back rows, several stern-faced witches and wizards in MACUSA official robes exchanged glances.
Howard's voice grew stronger. "For too long, we have dismissed No-Maj achievements as primitive, as lesser. We tell ourselves that magic makes us superior. But what if I told you that No-Maj science has solved problems we haven't even attempted? What if their understanding of the natural world could enhance our own magical practices?"
He waved his wand, and a series of floating diagrams appeared—anatomical charts, circuit boards, chemical formulas, all rendered in shimmering light.
"Let me show you what I mean. No-Maj medical science has mapped the human body with precision we've never achieved. Their chemistry has isolated compounds we use in potions without understanding why they work. Their physics describes forces we manipulate intuitively but cannot explain."
Harry leaned forward, fascinated despite his shyness. Beside him, Luna's eyes had taken on a faint blue glow that only Ethan seemed to notice.
Howard continued, his passion evident. "Consider the electric current—a flow of energy through conductive materials. No-Majs harness this to power their cities, their machines, their very civilization. Now, consider magical energy—we channel it through wands, through rituals, through our very being. Are these not fundamentally similar phenomena?"
More whispers. Some intrigued, others dismissive.
"I propose," Howard declared, "that the integration of No-Maj scientific method with magical practice could usher in a new golden age of magical innovation. Not by abandoning our traditions, but by enriching them."
He gestured, and a new image appeared—a complex diagram showing runic circuits intertwined with electrical pathways.
"Already, some pioneering companies are exploring this synthesis. The Atid Stella Corporation in Britain has developed artefacts that minimize electrical dependence through innovative runic applications. Their Runic Lamps, their temperature-regulation devices—these are just the beginning of what's possible when we stop seeing magic and science as opposites and start seeing them as complementary."
Ethan's eyes met Howard's across the room, and the faintest nod passed between them.
"But we must go further," Howard pressed on. "Consider the plight of Squibs—magical-born individuals who cannot perform magic. We've treated this as an immutable condition, a tragedy to be endured. But what if it's merely a matter of magical resonance? What if, with the right intermediary device—a specially crafted wand combined with understanding of harmonic frequencies—we could help Squibs access the magic that is their birthright?"
This caused an uproar. Excited chatter and angry rebuttals filled the air. In the back, the MACUSA representatives looked positively thunderous.
Harry's eyes widened. "D-Dad, is that p-possible?"
"The theory is sound," Ethan murmured. "Though the practical applications require extensive research and testing. Howard is brilliant, but he's also... optimistic about timelines."
Luna hummed softly. "The Blibbering Humdingers are dancing around his head. They always appear when someone speaks a truth that others fear to hear."
Ethan's mouth curled into an amused smile.
Howard raised his hands, calling for quiet. "I know this sounds revolutionary. I know some of you think I'm mad. But I have research, I have data, and most importantly—I have colleagues who share this vision."
He looked directly at Ethan. "Mr. Ethan Esther, co-founder of Atid Stella Corporation and one of the foremost innovators in modern magical research, has expressed interest in collaborative ventures. Together, we could—"
He never finished the sentence.
The doors to the conference hall burst open with a tremendous BANG.
...
At least thirty witches and wizards flooded into the room, their wands drawn but held low—a gesture of presence rather than immediate threat. Many wore simple traveling cloaks with hoods pulled up, obscuring their features. But their intent was clear from the coordinated way they moved, forming a loose semicircle near the entrance.
"RAPPAPORT'S LAW IS INJUSTICE!" one of them shouted, a young man's voice ringing through the now-silent hall. "FAMILIES TORN APART! SQUIBS EXILED! NO MORE!"
"REFORM NOW! REFORM NOW!" others took up the chant.
Harry's breath caught. Luna's hand found his, her grip surprisingly firm despite her dreamy demeanor.
"It's alright," Ethan said quietly, though his posture had shifted subtly. His hand rested casually near his wand. "This was... anticipated."
The MACUSA officials were on their feet immediately, several of them reaching for their own wands. But they held position, watching, assessing.
Howard stood at the podium, and despite the chaos, a slight smile played at his lips. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. These individuals have legitimate grievances—"
"WE'RE NOT ASKING FOR PERMISSION TO SPEAK!" A young woman pushed her hood back, revealing determined features and fierce eyes. She was perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with auburn hair pulled into a practical braid. "We're demanding to be heard! You sit in your comfortable halls, debating theories while REAL PEOPLE suffer under archaic laws!"
"My sister," another protester called out, "had to leave our family at eighteen! She couldn't even say goodbye! Is that the magical world you're proud of?"
Harry recognized that voice despite the hooded robe and mask—Robert Thornwood, the Ilvermorny student they'd met yesterday.
The protesters began distributing pamphlets with quick flicks of their wands, sending them floating through the crowd. Harry caught one, reading quickly:
*RAPPAPORT'S LAW: 300 YEARS OF SEPARATION
Squib children forced from magical families at adulthood, No-Maj-born witches and wizards denied contact with muggle relatives, Magical-No-Maj marriages prohibited, All rooted in FEAR, not PROTECTION*
The atmosphere in the room had shifted from scholarly debate to something far more charged. Some attendees were reading the pamphlets with interest, others crumpling them indignantly.
Then, one of the MACUSA representatives—a broad-shouldered wizard with a hard face and greying temples—stood abruptly.
"This is outrageous!" he bellowed, striding toward the protesters. "You dare disrupt an official conference with this—this propaganda? Rappaport's Law exists to protect us! To protect magical society from exposure!"
The auburn-haired young witch stepped forward to meet him, her wand now raised defensively. "Protect us? Or control us? There's a difference, Auror Blackwood!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, girl," Blackwood sneered. "You children playing at rebellion while the adults try to maintain order—"
"I'm not a child!" The witch's voice cracked with emotion. "I'm a witch whose best friend—whose Squib best friend—was ripped away from her family! I watched her mother weep! I watched her father rage! And for what? For a LAW BORN FROM FEAR!"
"Watch your tone when addressing a MACUSA official—"
"Or what? You'll arrest me? Prove my point about authoritarianism?"
The tension snapped like an overstretched wire.
"You want to see authoritarianism?" Blackwood's wand came up sharply. "Petrificus—"
"PROTEGO!" The woman's shield charm deflected it, her face flushing with anger. "You DARE attack a peaceful protester?"
"Peaceful? You're trespassing! You're disturbing the peace!"
"We're exercising our rights!" Another protester stepped up beside the young woman. "Rights that predate Rappaport's Law!"
"Incarcerous!" Blackwood sent ropes flying.
"Diffindo!" The woman slashed them away. "Expelliarmus!"
Blackwood blocked it, his face purple with rage. "Stupefy!"
And then, chaos erupted.
...
Spells flew across the conference hall as more protesters engaged and more MACUSA officials joined the fray. But to Ethan's quietly observing eye, the protesters showed remarkable restraint—their spells were all defensive, disarming, or at worst stunning. No cutting hexes, no dangerous curses.
Howard, still at the podium, had his own wand out, conjuring shields to protect the seated conference attendees. "Everyone remain seated! This will be resolved shortly!"
"Impervius Cortina," Ethan whispered, waving his wand in a smooth arc.
Immediately, translucent navy-blue curtains materialized around himself, Harry, and Luna, forming a seamless dome. Spells that flew too close simply absorbed into the barrier or slid harmlessly off its surface.
Luna watched the protective barrier with wide eyes. "Like water flowing around stones in a stream. amazing as ever, teacher."
"Stay close," Harry urged, though his own eyes were tracking the action with sharp attention. His hand had moved instinctively to his wand—not the Hogwarts-issued holly wand, but the walnut and Re'em horn creation that Ethan had crafted, currently nestled in his enchanted satchel.
The fight was intensifying. The auburn-haired woman was dueling Blackwood directly now, her movements sharp and precise despite her obvious emotional state.
"Glacius!" Ice shot from her wand.
"Incendio!" Blackwood countered with flame, steam billowing between them.
"You're just making it worse!" Robert Thornwood shouted, deflecting a stunner from another MACUSA official. "Protego Maxima!" A larger shield sprang up, protecting a cluster of protesters.
More MACUSA personnel were entering the fray, but Ethan noticed something crucial—Howard's earlier preparations had worked. The conference attendees, the innocent bystanders, were all safely out of the line of fire, protected by strategically placed barriers and shields.
The damage was contained to a specific area of the hall, and even there, most of the protesters and MACUSA officials were aiming to disable rather than harm.
Professional restraint on both sides, despite the heated emotions.
But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.
A wild Confringo from one of the newer MACUSA arrivals—someone who clearly hadn't been briefed on de-escalation—exploded against a marble column near the protesters. Shrapnel flew.
"Arresto Momentum!" Three different protesters cast the spell simultaneously, freezing the debris in mid-air.
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"Teacher," Luna's dreamy voice held an unusual note of urgency. "The Wrackspurts are saying someone is coming. Someone... important."
A tremendous CRACK of apparition echoed through the hall, and suddenly the room's temperature seemed to drop.
A tall, severe-looking witch in formal MACUSA robes materialized in the center of the conflict, her wand raised high.
"FINITE INCANTATEM!" Her voice carried a magical weight that made every active spell in the room sputter and die.
Silence fell like a hammer.
"I am Madam Director Seraphina Picquery," the witch announced, her voice cold as winter steel. "And this farce ends NOW."