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Chapter Text

Abraxas Malfoy knew that the prophecy had to be about him. He was sure the second line was a reference to his family’s motto ‘Sanctimonia Vincet Semper’ – ‘Purity Always Conquers.’ As the current heir to the Malfoy line and only scion of his father, he would not let himself be the downfall of his family. Whoever this sower was, he would find him, and kill him.

Chapter Text

John Chapman had spent the majority of this life using his skills in herbology to cultivate apples. With years of studying and fine-tuning, he had been able to use magic to develop the ideal apple tree. He was proud of his trees. They could grow in any soil, required a minimal amount of attention, could adapt to the taste buds of the individual eating them, and would provide an abundance of nutrients that were lacking in many of the pioneer communities. John had spent the last forty years planting thousands of small nurseries containing his enchanted apple trees all over the country.

Asleep at his desk, John was startled awake by the sound of knocking on the door of his small single-room cabin. A familiar five knocks of increasing strength, followed by two softer knocks meant that Matthew had arrived back from his reconnaissance mission at last.

“Come in,” said the 70-year old wizard, unbinding the charms protecting the entry with a flick of his Applewood wand. “Matthew,” he said, standing up from the desk to greet his friend with a hug, “what have you learned? How bad is it?”

“It’s worse than we thought,” replied Matthew, crestfallen.

They had first realized something was wrong two months ago. During a routine trip to check the growth of the trees at one of the nurseries he had planted outside town, John discovered that the surrounding families had developed an adverse taste to the trees’ apples. The residents around the land informed him that the previously sweet, beautiful apples he had planted for them had become bitter and inedible. After discovering the same situation at multiple other nurseries nearby, he had suspected foul play and dispatched his apprentice Matthew to investigate.

Matthew began to recount what he had discovered on his journey.

“An English wizard by the name of Abraxas Malfoy caught wind of what you’ve been doing. He’s the sort who sees himself as being above non-magical folk. He’s roused up a concern about how your magic trees are going to out the wizarding population to the No-majes.”

John had never liked the term “No-maj”, or for that matter, any sort of distinction between people with and without magical abilities. They were all humans. John saw it as his responsibility to use his magic to benefit the most amount of people he could, and for him that meant planting apple trees.

Matthew continued, “Abraxas has rounded up a group of radicals who share his beliefs. They’ve been tracking down your nurseries and cursing the apples.”

“How many have they gotten to?” asked John.

Matthew remained silent for a moment before replying, knowing how badly the news was going to hurt his friend. “It’s... it’s all of them John. Every nursery from Pennsylvania to Illinois, every tree cursed,” he said as John’s eyes began to fill with tears.

Matthew arrived the next day to find John scribbling frantically at his desk.

"I need to fix it. I'm not going to let them win. I'll develop better apples, stronger apples, apples resistant to their magical tampering."

"Is that even possible?" Matthew asked. "John, you've spent your whole life perfecting apples. How can there be room for more improvement?"

"I've had an idea for a while, Matthew. Previously, I'd considered it too dangerous to attempt, but I have nothing to lose now. To be able to develop an apple resistant to their dark magic, I'll need to plunge into the secrets of the apple further than anyone has even dreamed of. I need to understand apples at a the most fundamental level possible."

"What do you mean John?" Matthew asked nervously.

John reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a vial of a dark-colored potion. Matthew recognized the mud-like bubbles coming from it immediately.

"John, is that Polyjuice Potion?" he asked confusedly.

"Polyjuice Potion base," John corrected. “I still need to add the final ingredient.”

“But whom are you going to transform into?” Matthew asked.

“Not whom, Matthew, but what. You see, after I add the final ingredient, this will become Poly-applejuice," John continued, reaching for one of the apple seeds scattered about his desk.

"You've gone mad!" Matthew shouted. "Do you even know whether that will work?"

"Not for sure," John replied calmly, "but I must become an apple. What other choice do I have?" As John dropped the apple seed into the vial, the potion turned a shimmering red color and gave off a faint aroma of apple blossoms. John took a sip from the vial. "It tastes of cider, Matthew," he said, and then downed the rest of the Poly-applejuice.

To his horror, Matthew watched as his friend and mentor began to violently shrink and turn red. After a moment, John was nowhere to be seen, and the chair in which he had previously been sitting contained a small red apple. Well, not exactly an apple. He was a somewhat horrifying looking human-apple hybrid. Apple John had bulging white eyes with tiny black dots for pupils, a large mouth with teeth still intact, and spindly arms and legs that matched the red color of his apple body. A single green leaf sprouted from the top of his head.

"Did it work", asked John. "Am I an apple?"

"You're... something," replied Matthew.

Apple John jumped from the chair and onto the top of his desk with a surprising amount of agility for how thin his limbs were. After staring at his reflection in the window, he said "Could have gone worse, I suppose." "Hang on a second," he continued, glancing down at the papers he had been scribbling his calculations on earlier that day. "I think I may have misjudged how much essence of apple I needed to add to the potion. Oh, yes, I see it now. I was off by a factor of a thousand over here."

"A factor of a thousand?" Matthew said, disbelieving. "John, please tell me you're joking."

"I am not," said John. "I had intended the potion to last for one hour, but it looks like I'll be stuck like this for a thousand hours."

"John, that's... forty days,” Matthew said pausing shortly to do the mental arithmetic. “Can you even survive that long in the form of an apple?"

"I'm afraid not, Matthew. I'd say I have a few days at best, which is why we're going to need to act quickly. Fortunately, my theory was correct. As we speak, I feel myself gaining a vast understanding of the true secrets of the apple. We need to find a way to preserve this information before I perish."

"Dictate it to me, and I'll write it down," suggested Matthew.

"No," John replied. “There's too much information. It would take too long to write. I have an idea though. Go get your painting supplies and return as quickly as possible." Matthew turned on the spot and disapparated away with a ‘crack’.

A few minutes later he Apparated back into the room clutching an easel, paints, and a blank canvas.

"Good," said John. "Now paint a portrait of me and I'll teach the portrait everything I'm discovering. Then, after I'm gone you can use it as a reference to finish the work I've started." Apple John struck a pose on top of the desk, and Matthew began to paint. After a couple of hours, Matthew had finished the painting. He pointed his wand at it, said "Animatus", and the portrait came to life.

John spent the next three days relaying everything he had learned about the inner-working of apples to his portrait. Apple John began to look more like an apple with each day that passed. His eyes gradually shrank, and his limbs began to retract into the apple. When Matthew stopped by to check on his progress on the fourth day, he found what looked like an ordinary apple atop the desk next to the painting.

"Are you still there, John?" he asked.

The apple in the portrait replied, "I'm afraid not, Matthew. His task is complete. He has passed on all the knowledge he had to give me."

"What shall I do now?" Matthew asked the portrait.

The portrait replied, "Place as many indestructible charms as you can on my portrait so this knowledge is safe. Then, we can begin to work out the secrets of the apple together." Matthew did as the portrait said, and as he finished, he heard a voice outside the cabin.

"So, this is where the Muggle-loving apple farmer lives? You know, the Muggles have taken to calling him ‘Johnny Appleseed’. Isn’t that quaint?" Three other voices laughed. The door burst open, and as Matthew raised his wand, Abraxas Malfoy shouted "Avada Kedavra!"

"Burn it all to the ground," Abraxas commanded his followers, before disapparating. After setting flame to the cabin, his followers also fled. When the blaze finally subsided, all that remained was a portrait buried below a large pile of ash.

Chapter Text

MIT student William Thilly was spending his summer as an intern at Kellogg’s, but this weekend he was back home at his family's apple orchard in Indiana. The orchard had been in his family since his great-grandfather had started the orchard in the 1800s. The apples from his family's orchard weren't the tasty sort of apples used for pies or jams. They were a bitter, unpleasant variety, but nevertheless had been able to be used for a productive cider business.

William was glad to have the time away from work to clear his mind. As part of his internship, he had been tasked with developing a new breakfast cereal to be added to the Kellogg's portfolio. The problem was, he didn't know the first thing about breakfast cereal. He was a biology student. The only reason he had been awarded the internship was because he was the only one to show up for the interview.

The family was celebrating the orchard's 125th anniversary this weekend, and William was currently navigating the dusty attic of the orchard's two-story farmhouse, looking for the extra tables and chairs that were stored there.

William was moving a box of holiday decorations out of his way when an old painting caught his eye. It was a painting of an apple on an old wooden desk. The apple in the painting wasn't an ordinary apple, though. It had eyes and a mouth. And what was that thin rod shape sitting next to it on the desk? William concluded it must be a cinnamon stick. And that's when the inspiration he had been searching for finally came to him. The perfect idea for Kellogg's new breakfast cereal: Apples and cinnamon. And this anthropomorphized apple would make the perfect mascot! William made a quick sketch of the apple in his notebook to share with the Kellogg’s marketing team.

Chapter Text

Fearing the increasing tensions in Wizarding Britain, Blaise's mother had sent her to spend the summer with her cousin Ash in America. Ash worked for the MACUSA Department of No-maj Observation, and as such had been required to integrate into the No-maj population to observe them and serve as a No-maj expert in American wizarding affairs. This involved going undercover into all sorts of non-wizarding industries to figure out how their society worked.

Today was the day Blaise would be departing back to Britain to start her 5th year at Hogwarts.

"Are you excited to get back to Hogwarts?" Ash asked, smiling jokingly as she placed an unnecessary amount of emphasis on the last word.

Blaise rolled her eyes, scooping up another spoonful of her Muggle cereal.

Ash continued, "Sorry, it's just... why would they name it Hog Warts? I mean... it doesn't sound very... appealing. Now take for example, Ilvermorny," Ash said the name of her alma mater with a loving flair.

Blaise sighed.

"Come on Blaise, just try saying it. Ilvermorny."

"Ilvermorny," said Blaise, begrudgingly. Her cousin did have a point. The American Wizarding academy had a much more distinguished ring to it. "Ash, tell me again what the name of your house was at your ever-so-fancy-sounding school?" Blaise countered.

This time it was Ash who sighed, before saying "Touché, Slytherin does beat Pukwudgie."

"By a mile," replied Blaise, as she went back to reading the Muggle cereal box in front of her.

"Hey Ash, what's niacinamide?" asked Blaise a moment later.

"Nia-what?" asked Ash, confused.

"Niacinamide," Blaise repeated. "It says it on this cereal box. Everything's all colorful and then there's this one boring side that's just black and white with a jumble of words on it."

"Oh, that's one of those vitamins the No-maj add to their food," Ash said leaning over to look at the cereal box.

No matter how long Blaise spent in America, she didn't think she'd ever get used to the word 'No-maj'. "Why do they add all this stuff to their food?” she asked.

"Their bodies don't absorb nutrients as well as wizards," her cousin explained. "And with how many of them there are, they need giant factories to make their food. It’s difficult to make food at the quantities they need without losing some of the natural nutrients in the process, so they make the vitamins separate and add them back in. I've gone undercover into some of the No-maj manufacturing plants. The scale at which they're able to make stuff is pretty impressive."

Ash had gotten used to her cousin's questions. The last three months had been spend fielding an unending barrage of them. Ash didn't mind though. She understood how strange and fascinating the No-maj could be to wizards unexperienced in their arts. Her interest in that very subject was what led her to specialize in No-maj studies at Ilvermorny, and later take up her job at MACUSA as a No-maj expert. Ash wasn't oblivious to the prejudiced views of the English Zabini family towards the No-maj. Whenever she had found herself at family gatherings, she had been careful to skirt around exactly what her job at the American Magical Congress was. One of the reasons she had accepted her aunt's request to let Blaise stay with her for the summer was in the hope that she'd be able to instill some more nuanced views in her impressionable cousin. To her satisfaction, Ash had witnessed Blaise's initial abhorrence at discovering that her cousin lived in a "Muggle flat" eventually give way to a fount of curiosity about No-maj culture. Of course, this was aided by the conveniences of air conditioning and non-stop entertainment provided by television.

"What are all these black stripes with numbers under them?" Blaise asked, continuing her cereal box interrogation. "I see them on everything."

"It's called a barcode," explained Ash. "It's how the computers at the supermarket can identify what item it is. Remember when the cashier shined that red light on our groceries and the names of what they were popped up on the screen? That red light is what reads the barcode."

"Alright..." Blaise said, thinking. "But how does a light know what a bunch of stripes mean?"

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself. And I'd venture to say most of the No-maj don't fully understand how it works either. It's sort of like how spells work. It's terribly tricky to invent a spell, but you don't have to understand how they're invented to learn how to use them."

"Hmm, I guess that makes sense. It is kind of remarkable what the Muggles have been able to accomplish without magic, isn't it?" mused Blaise.

"It sure is," agreed Ash, smiling as she glanced down at her watch. "But you better start eating the cereal instead of reading the box, there’s only a few minutes left until the portkey leaves."

Blaise turned the cereal box to look at the front. 'Apple Jacks' it said. It featured an angry-looking cartoon apple and a cinnamon stick that was wearing a hat. The apple reminded her of one of her friends from Hogwarts.

"Ash, can I take the rest of this box back with me?” she asked. "One of my friends at school is obsessed with apples and I think he'd love this."

"Obsessed with... apples?" asked Ash, a mixture of surprise and confusion on her face.

"Yeah, he's kind of fanatical about them. I don't think I've ever seen him go a full day without eating an apple."

"Sure... I guess so," said Ash.

"Ah, wait, he'd probably hex me if I tried to give him Muggle food," Blaise said disappointingly.

"Here," said Ash picking up the box. "I'll place an animation charm on it and cover up any evidence of 'Muggleness'. You can tell him it's an American Wizarding delicacy."

Ash formed a picture of the desired outcome in her mind. The apple and cinnamon stick could stay, but the No-maj cereal bowl and branding would need to go. Concentrating, she pointed her wand at the box and said "Animatus.” There was a 'pop' and the cinnamon stick on the box began to dance and the background turned into a sea of swirling green colors, covering up the Kellogg’s branding, nutrition label, and barcode.

"There," said Ash setting the box back down in front of Blaise. "That ought to do the trick."

“Perfect,” said Blaise. “Wait, what happened to that apple guy? It’s just the cinnamon stick all by himself now.”

“Hmm, that’s strange,” Ash said, picking the box back up and turning it around to examine each side. “I swear I meant to include him in the animation charm.” “Oh wait, almost forgot,” she said, opening the box and taking out the plastic bag of cereal. “Wizards don’t have plastic bags.”

“Yeah, why do the Muggles do that?” asked Blaise. “They put the cereal in a bag and then put it in a box. It seems kind of redundant. Why don’t they just put the cereal directly in the box?”

“The cardboard box isn’t airtight. The plastic bag stops the air from getting in and making the cereal stale,” Ash explained.

“Oh, right, because they don’t have freshness charms,” Blaise said.

“Exactly”, Ash said opening the plastic bag and dumping the cereal into the box. “What year do they teach freshness charms at Hogwarts?” she asked.

“Third,” Blaise responded.

“Give it a go then,” Ash said encouragingly, setting the box down on the table and taking a step backwards.

Blaise drew out her wand, pointed it at the box, and said “Recentius” while flicking her wrist in a triangular motion. A slight breeze, visible in the rippling of the tablecloth beneath the box as the air surrounding it was evacuated, indicated that the charm had been successful.

“Nice work,” Ash complimented. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“What is this plastic stuff anyway,” asked Blaise, picking up the discarded bag and examining it. “Where does it come from?”

“Oil.” Ash said.

“But this looks nothing like oil. Oil’s black... and liquid,” Blaise said, holding the bag up to her eye to peer through it. “And this is... not either of those.”

“The No-maj dig the oil up out of the ground, heat it up, smush it around a bit, and eventually it turns into that. They’re able to completely transform it.”

“Like alchemy?” Blaise asked.

“Pretty much,” Ash replied. “Now, better take hold of the portkey, it’s going to be activating any minute.”

Blaise set down the plastic bag, stashed the box of Apple Jacks in her travel bag, and grabbed the chipped coffee mug that was the portkey.

“Hey Ash,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Will you send me an owl with a play-by-play of everything that happens on Iron Chef tonight?”

“Of Course.”

Ash had magically modified her TV to pick up international broadcasts and watching the Japanese cooking show together had become one of their weekly rituals.

“Thanks,” Blaise said. “For everything.” Then she felt the familiar sensation as if being pulled by a hook as her surroundings turned into a blur of colors and she was transported by the portkey to King’s Cross Station.

Chapter Text

Blaise boarded the Hogwarts Express and navigated to her usual compartment. She was second to arrive, greeted by Draco Malfoy.

“How was your summer, Zabini?” he asked. “My father said you spent it in America with your cousin. Did you bring me back a souvenir?” he asked jokingly.

“Actually, I did,” Blaise said pulling the box of cereal from her bag and handing it to Draco. “I saw these and I knew I had to bring some back for you.”

“Apple Jacks?” Draco said looking at the box. “I’ve never heard of these. But I do love apples.”

“Yes, they’re an American Wizarding delicacy,” Blaise explained.

“He’s beautiful!” Draco exclaimed, noticing the confused-looking apple on the box.

“What?” asked Blaise.

“The apple on the box,” said Draco, turning the box to face Blaise.

“Oh of course. The apple. That’s what made me think of you.”

“Hello fellow wizards,” Apple John said. “What year is it?”

“1995,” Draco replied. The apple looked shocked and darted away off the box.

“Looks like he’s skittered off. Probably had to make his appearance on some other boxes. I do hope he returns,” said Draco.

Blaise knew he couldn’t have gone to another box, because this was the only animated Apple Jacks box in existence, and wondered where he had gone to. And how had he known about wizards?

“That was a strange question for an apple to ask though, wasn’t it?” said Draco.

“I suppose he may have gotten a bit shaken about by the portkey travel,” Blaise said trying to hide her confusion.

Draco opened the box and tossed a few pieces of cereal into his mouth. “Blaise, these little biscuits are incredible! The apple taste is subtle, but it’s definitely there. You know, most people probably wouldn’t be capable of tasting the apple in them because of the strong notes of cinnamon, but my father says I have a very discerning palate. Look how uniform they are, and look at the perfect little crystals of apple in them! Only with magic could that be accomplished. These are truly a crowning achievement of our kind. Thank-you for this gift.”

“I had a feeling you would enjoy them. You should try them with milk, that’s how the Mu... I mean American wizards eat them,” Blaise said catching herself.

“Thanks, Zabini. I’ll have to try that. Now that people are arriving, I must go attend to my prefect duties,” he said, flashing the shiny new prefect badge on his robes. “Did you hear? I’ve been made prefect. Of course, I wasn’t surprised or anything. My father’s always said I’d be a prefect, and my father’s always right about everything.”

Draco waved to Blaise as she entered the Great Hall at breakfast the next morning. “You were right Zabini, they’re even better with milk!” he shouted, before taking another spoonful of cereal from his bowl. Whispers began to fill the room, eventually making their way to the Slytherin table.

Goyle looked around nervously before asking “Is it true Draco? Are you eating Muggle cereal?”

“What?” Draco said. “Don’t be stupid Goyle. This is a culinary masterpiece from American wizards. Zabini brought it back for me from her trip to America. Honestly, Goyle, have you never heard of Apple Jacks?”

“Sorry. Please forgive me,” Goyle said. “It’s just one of the Muggle-born Hufflepuffs started a rumor you were eating Muggle cereal.”

Draco noticed the nervous look on Blaise’s face and paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “Blaise...” he said.

“Well... er... you see...” Blaise started.

Draco drew out his wand and pointed it at the cereal box, saying “Finite.” The box returned to its normal Kellogg’s form. “You’ll pay for this Zabini. My father will hear about this!” he said angrily before grabbing the box and running out of the Great Hall.

Alone in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco lay on his bed staring at the unenchanted cereal box. He wondered how it could possibly be Muggle cereal. He could tell from the now unenchanted box that it was not a product of wizards, so it must have been made by Muggles. How could what he had thought of yesterday as the crowning achievement of wizardkind, something so perfect and beautiful, have been created by Muggles? His father had told him the Muggles made their food out of dirt and sawdust. The cereal had tasted so good though. But that would mean his father was wrong, and that just couldn’t be. His father was never wrong. Then Draco remembered what the apple had said back on the train. The apple had known they were wizards. How could that be? And if this wasn’t really a box made by wizards, then how was the apple on the box able to leave to somewhere else?

Seeking answers to his questions, Draco re-cast the animation spell on the box. The previously stationary apple disappeared from the box and the apple in the attic portrait felt the void opening again.

“Are you there?” Draco whispered to the box. Apple John slowly stepped back onto the box. “How do you know about wizards?” Draco asked.

“I know about wizards because I was one,” the apple replied.

“I knew it!” Draco said. “If you’re a wizard, this must not be Muggle food after all.”

“Draco, I’m not sure how I came to be on this box,” John replied, “But, I can say with certainty that with the information I’ve gathered over the last day, this box and the cereal inside it were not made by anyone with magical abilities.”

“Who are you then?” Draco asked.

“My name is John Chapman,” the apple replied. Draco listened in awe as John recounted his life’s story, how he had devoted his life to the study and perfection of apples, with a particular admiration at the point where John explained how he had turned himself into an apple.

By the time the apple had finished talking, Draco came to a realization.

“John, will you help me correct the sins of my family?” he asked. “My grandfather was a murderer and was responsible for the death of the greatest wizard who ever lived. And because of my father’s lies I have spent my whole life deprived of Apple Jacks - the greatest food ever created. My father is going to hear about this.”

Chapter Text

“Another box of cereal has entered the castle”, Snape said urgently, striding into the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore looked up from his desk with a mixture of worry and intrigue. “Who is in possession of this one?” he asked, calmly.

Snape paused for a moment before answering, “Draco Malfoy.”