It wasn’t as if Eloise was just going to leave Amanda in a terrarium now was it? No she got her very own Barbie Dollhouse.

The Big project I mentioned a few days ago has begun! No turning back now. I always planned on writing ficlets or short stories to accompany certain headcanons to flesh them out. This is the result of @themonsterblogofmonsters being incredibly patient in helping me flesh out this verse and motivating me to start writing this fic.

The first chapter is a table of contents explaining the purpose and scope of the project while the second chapter is about the lives of two sisters, both born with magic, in a muggle fishing village during the Heian period (794-1185).

If you want an excellent story (soon to be series) developing the Potterverse in Japan that is very well researched and very clever in it’s storytelling, then let me recommend to you the wonderful works of @mahoutokoro-at-nagumo. There’s only one part to the story at present, but as a taster it’s intriguing and a good one to get going with.

They like to say that there are only a few true magical schools in the world. 

And, certainly, there are some very well known, around the world, regardless of nation. Mahoutokoro in Japan, name shortened down from its full name for simplicity for those elsewhere. Known for their duellists, and for their Charms masters, and their pretty Cherry wood wands. Uagadou, known for their Divination and dream magic,utilizing Oneiromancy and Onieromagy both, and for how they train their students in old arts, without wands, that the Western world has lost. Koldovstoretz which lets it’s students fly on enchanted tree trunks and Durmstrang where student rivalries teach them the ways of power and politicking. There is Salem which fights for the protection of their own, and the equality of women, muggle or magical, black or white, assigned or not, and Beauxbatons where the wood nymphs of the surrounding forests remind students to be careful and Hogwarts known, most of all, for it’s headmaster, and for the bickering of the founders.

There are others. Small ones, large ones, ones not quite so well known as these great institutions. Sometimes they are younger, or not so distinct. Sometimes they take students refused by the main, big schools, and sometimes they are dismissed by their governments and work only under their own steams. But they are there, despite what might be claimed, and they have their own competitions and tournaments, without the larger schools joining.

(Image Source)

This got me to thinking about other schools, because although there are “others” mentioned in this post, I think there must be other “great schools” as well - the present list seems distinctly Eurocentric (of the 6, 3 are located in Europe, counting Koldovstoretz), though this is probably connected to the fact that all of these are schools mentioned in canon. Surely there are other schools of this caliber elsewhere!

So here are my thoughts as to what else is out there (just in terms of big things - I imagine there are smaller schools wherever people settle in large enough numbers):

Asia

Africa

Europe

South America

North America

Oceania

I’m reblogging this here because THIS IS AWESOME, and I’m also going to add on that I have a tag for magical schools (#our hallowed halls of learning) within which is a post on Irish Schools of Magic, a few curiously specific schools, including one in Delphi, a post on Domdaniel, which is from myth and folklore, a few on my invented school for ladies who want to learn Parseltongue, and that’s just in addition to the canon schools. There’s also a tag (#Blatherskite) for underwater-witchery‘s amazing magical school that is submerged in the Bermuda Triangle.

This is not even getting started on the seven schools of sorcery, invented and headcanoned over at americanwizarding, or the Collegiums invented by thepostmodernpottercompendium.

Ok so for the ‘aussie school’, you’ve kind of made the same mistake JKR made for the US. (To compare, when you scale up Australia’s person to area ratio, you get the US, because somehow they’re perfectly balanced)

There are over seven hundred different Aboriginal Australian tribes on record. Each of those tribes has a different set of customs, a different totem, a different Dreaming, a different set of traditions, a different language. I live in a different custodial land to my high school, which is in a different land to my local church, which is in a different land to my grandmother’s house. Those four things are barely 500m away from each other.

So to throw seven hundred groups of people together under ‘Aborigine wixen’, without taking into consideration the fact that they’re super varied and diverse, but maintained national contact with each other before Cook showed up, is pretty silly.

More likely, there’ll be a few, smaller schools, probably based around totemic identity or language group, or both probably. These’ll be scattered around the country, focused more in NSW because most Aboriginal Australians are now in NSW (Of course, that’s not to say that there wasn’t even distribution before, as a lot of the demographics pre-Cook are still being discovered). 

The spells would be really different too, less invasive or permanant because of the traditional nomadic lifestyle, at worst effect they’d be defensive spells. They’d probably be nature based, less spell-with-a-wand-casting and more healing salves and things like that. Spells would probably be passed down orally by elders to the next generation, similar to Dreaming and tradition. So, no formal educational structure as recognised today. ALSO!!! magic would totally be part of traditional life, like this isn’t something you’re going to hide from people, this is a perfectly normal thing that happens to some people and they’re super good healers or something, who knows!!

Post-Cook, it’s most likely that magical traditions would have been used as a bridge between the two magical communities. However, it needs to be noted that Muggle Settlers were complete assholes and brought things like smallpox and alcoholism, which was bRAND NEW TO THIS TINY SPOT OF NOT-BRITISH.

Anyway, with the genocide, mass kidnapping, mass rapes, torture, slavery e.t.c. most of that natural, defensive magic was probably lost. 

HOWEVER!!!!!

Something that tends to happen with the Dreaming is that, over time, the story changes a little bit, mainly because ‘this elder phrased it this way’ and ‘this elder thought it meant this’ aka interpretation and need can manipulate the overall meaning of Dreamtime stories, but the deeper message still stays the same.

It’s very likely that spells would have changed and adapted to suit their needs too!!!

SO!! Say, for example, a spell for fresh water could become a spell for protective water i.e. a stronger current to wash away any Settlers who came near. Or a spell for them to find their way home was able to be used over long distances (see: The girl who pulled the ‘rabbit-proof fence’ four times).

So, during times of terror, such as the Stolen Generation, Aboriginal Australian magic probably did a super-quick evolution in relation to spellcasting and what particular spells could do.

Post SG, moving into Reconciliation, the White magical community probably only started doing something because, post WW2, a bunch of WW2 refugees (like my grandparents yo) immigrated here, including Greek, Italian, Maltese and Jewish German young adults and little kids. Most of those refugees, especially those affected by concentration camps, would have been ‘wtf whY IS THIS A THING’ @ most of this bullshit and called for action, i.e. the sudden influx of recording of Aboriginal spellcasting and magical tradition, which would have saved a few spells, but only if they had a) belonged to the tribe the elder was from or b) the elder had picked it up whilst travelling/being a runner boy/talking to a runner boy/meeting with someone from a tribe which shared totem/language e.t.c.

So, most of the magic is lost, and to compensate it’s a compulsory course of study for all magical students. (Muggle kids get the ‘our government is a trainwreck and we need to make sure this never happens again’ talk for thirteen years, which is V GOOD) Magical historians are probably working their asses off rn to try and find the rest of the spells, but, like I said, seven hundred tribes, all those languages and dialects, good luck my friend.

Magical Lawmaking would involve Aboriginal Elders because that’s step 1 on the ‘do not do the thing again’ checklist. Seriously though, you think the cultural crockpot of the world isn’t going to go to one of the oldest sources of Magic in the country?? Their Dreaming ‘begins’ with a giant rainbow snake creating the world, and I’m not gonna screw with Goorialla because they made mountains and I’m just a people.

Like, I’m sorry dude, but don’t go ‘ah yeah these ~25 million people of unknown magical percentage are gonna have 1 school and its gonna be british lmao’ because mate it’s late and i just wrote the best essay ive written all year on fantasy australian history.

my drama teacher would be so proud.

(Disclaimer: all information is taken from HSC Aboriginal Australia study + quick google fact checks. Am not Aboriginal Australian myself, so please correct me if i fucked up. peace)

Ezra-Selene Selwyn had never much cared for the gender-binary. They’d announced this at the dinner table, aged eight, and the statement, so adult from a childs mouth, had finished the argument over whether they were to wear the ruffled or the lace-edged robes to the Notts winter ball.

Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn had quickly helped them pick out a name and Ezra-Selene loved to play with it, some days just Ezra, some days just Selene, some days neither, some days both. They/them were always preferred.

Their younger brother Silas was at first confused but quickly grew to understand that all people were their own and, provided they could wield a wand, who was to argue with their perception of self? (They were something of a blood-purist family after all. There were some traditions there was no escaping.)

But Ezra-Selene grew up remarkably well-adjusted for a child of a Dark family and was sorted into Ravenclaw where they thrived. When Voldemort rose in Britain however Ezra-Selene fled. They had seen too much of the Muggle-Grindelwald’s antics on the continent, heard of those outside the norm like themselves bundled away into camps and never heard from again. It scared them.

Ezra-Selene fled to America and joined the southern wixes, living in the mountains and the prairie and minding herds of winged horses and unicorns. They quite liked the stories of the muggle cowboys and decided to buy a gun. You could never be too careful – a protego might deflect spells, a stupefy might stun the enemy but a gun dealt with them, and no shield yet devised could deflect a hard metal bullet.

They became well known over time. The first of the mage-riders to wield a gun, tucked into a holster right beside their wand, the first to prove its usefulness. Ezra-Selene was never proud of it. But they did so love people not forgetting their pronouns for once, even if they did stutter slightly when asking for an autograph.

(Image One from Here. Character is an invention for a Fic I (essayofthoughts) am writing, do say if you perceive Ezra-Selene as potentially problematic)

Chapter 15 - Ghosts, Souls and the Afterlife

Though the presence of magic in our world has turned many atheist - it is hard to believe in a god when ones ancestors might have claimed to be ones - there are also those who still follow some faith, be it fully, in a more spiritual sense or otherwise. Indeed, regardless of the faith - or lack thereof - individuals in the magical world may have it, there is a strong belief in the magical world of a soul, which is generally believed to become a ghost should one not wish to pass over. Souls are also mentioned in the magical world in conjunction with Homunculi, as the intelligence of a Homunculus can be increased by the imbuing of a soul - usually from a living being - to provide more magic, life and awareness. However quite how a “soul” provides this is unknown, and there is much speculation as to the true nature and properties of a soul.

This theorising has led to some speculation that muggles, Veela, and even animals, may not truly have souls due to the general lack of their ghosts (long since disproven by the work of Mopsy Fleabert, among others), but after much time it was proven that all can have ghosts when they know they exist and they have a strong enough desire to not pass over. However muggle ghosts are almost unheard of due to how ghosts interact in the world, requiring not only awareness, but also the will to remain in a world that may well change without them. At some points in history parts of muggle funerary rites were used to ensure that muggles did not return as ghosts, while others were used to permit them presence in this world only at certain times of year (such as Hallowe’en and Walpurgis).

In other places in the world people have been killed, and their souls bound to sites. Imperfect bindings can create Gasts, harmful spirits able to create physical forms from stones, plants, and animal remains in the vicinity, while perfect bindings can be used to create powerfully magical Dieldegast, or boundary stones, which can have protective, or other magical properties. In other places in the world spirits might be allowed certain ways of physically interacting with the living - usually through the creation of temporary bodies such as Scarecrows - though creatures such as Homunculi can be imbued with souls to increase the intelligence.

However, despite this, most ghosts cannot truly interact with the physical world. For all they can talk to individuals, and some might be able to interact with certain parts of the world (there are ghosts which are known to be able to influence water, and those who can interact with books) most ghosts truly able to interact (such as those able to murder) are the ones who have been driven to madness. However even the sanest of ghosts can be affected by the physical world on occasion, with certain materials existing which allows an individual to touch a ghost rather than passing through them, as well as recent proof that they can be petrified by a direct Basilisk’s gaze.

However this is all disregarding several curious points about the existence of ghosts. For one, they are often not ancient, for all they may be old. The oldest in Europe go back only around 1500 years, with very few from before then, despite vaguely rumoured sightings. In Asia they go back somewhat further, to around 3000 years ago, and some of the oldest exist in the Near East, where they go back sometimes 5000 years. However there are no truly prehistoric ghosts, least of all any of Neanderthals, Cro-Magnon, or other ghosts related to the evolution of Homo sapiens sapiens or Homo sapiens arcanum. 

Thus it is speculated that ghosts require will to remain in this world - not that any have actually asked ghosts - and that they must retain some ability to adapt to a changing world. While there are ghosts from the European Dark Ages and Renaissance, the British Elizabethan and Interregnum periods, and even ghosts dating back to the first civilisations in the fork of the Tigris and Euphrates they have all of them learned to speak the modern languages of their region, as well as the languages which existed between their birth and the present time in the regions they roam. This, despite the, sometimes vast differences, between the languages once spoken and the present - Old English is quite different to Modern English, and the invasions of some places by others have led to linguistic influences that would be utterly alien to ghosts in the invaded places.

This is, oddly, a strong contra-indicator to the theory that ghosts are solely imprints, given they clearly have some ability to learn and change, and suggests that, instead, they are imprints with some self-awareness and an ability to change. This is then linked, by some magical theorists, to the idea that magic and life require change, and that when one can no longer change that is death. Indeed ghosts unable to adapt to a changing world often go mad (and are promptly Sent On by the Spirit Division of their Ministry or equivalent structure), or if they do not, they may lose faith in the world and decide, at long last, that they do wish for death, and so chose to Pass On.

Quite what they Pass On to is still unknown. For all that there is presently one individual living who may be able to inform the magical world as to what death is like - the aptly named “Boy Who Lived” - there is little conclusive evidence. Wixes who have had near-death experiences often claim seeing a bright light - which is matched by muggle reports - though, as they do not Pass On - it is uncertain if this is indeed Death or if it is merely a waypoint, or jumping-off point before true Death. Indeed the place in near-death experiences is sometimes compared to what some few ghosts describe as the place they were at before they chose to return, suggesting it may not necessarily be a waypoint or jumping-off point, but rather a midpoint, where one may chose where they wish to go (provided their physical health permits the option of Life). It is also worth noting that not all ghosts even Pass On directly, with some simply staying in one location, seeming almost to fossilise before Fading On. Some such ghosts are aided by those same Spirit Divisions which are used to send on the Mad Ghosts.

Ultimately what one must take away from this is this: We do not know nearly enough about ghosts, largely due to an unwillingness to ask them of their opinion. Further even our own theories can tell us little of death, only a list of what is and is not known. While certain popular theories (such as the adaptability of ghosts) are incredibly likely, we do not yet have sufficient evidence to prove it beyond shadow of a doubt, though we do have enough to cast the Imprintation Theory of Ghosts into doubt. Beyond that however, theories of the soul, ghosts and the afterlife, are often personal matters, for one wix and their belief or faith, or even lack thereof.

–

Animal Ghosts of Britain by Mopsy Fleabert is a book found in Pottermore.

Visitation Rites by hungerartist

The use of the ground teeth of creatures such as Dragons, Chimaeras and East Asian Manticores, as well as Fire Salamander mucus and Ashwinder ashes and eggs in the making of magical fireworks is closely registered and monitored. So too is the use of such ingredients in home-made attempts at Floo Powder.

By signing this form and accepting receipt of the aforementioned jar of mixed Dragon and East Asian Manticore teeth (Page 1) I accept responsibility of these materials and promise to comply with Sections 5C and 14A regarding research into the making of magical fireworks, and the testing of any creations from this research.

Signed: …Fred Weasley…  Signed: …George Weasley…

(Image Source)

(I hate that I have to include this but PLEASE DO NOT DELETE THE IMAGE SOURCE OR MY CAPTION.)

Incantation first written down in Chester Collins’ Skeletal Spellcasting (1970)

(Image Source)

The lady from the commission arrived at 7:30am, as promised, in a reassuringly normal white Prius. Merrilyn’s mother gave her hair one last smoothing-over. “You’re sure you have everything? You don’t want me to go with you?” Merrilyn shook her head and rubbed away a tear. They’d been over this. If there were other students wherever they were going — and Miss Dupris said there would be — then she wanted to get the goodbye over with in private.

Miss Dupris was as nice as she had been when they’d gone shopping in that strange center in DC, part and not-part of the city. She answered all of Merrilyn’s questions patiently, but otherwise let her dry her tears and keep her thoughts to herself in peace.

After an hour or so, Miss Dupris pulled the car up near a white picket fence. Merrilyn wasn’t sure where they were anymore, but when she stepped out, she caught the unmistakeable scent of the sound in the air, slightly salty and slightly rotting. Miss Dupris ushered Merrilyn towards a little garden at the bottom of the hill, with brick walkways leading to a tiny shed.

There were only two other students there when Merrilyn arrived, both girls, standing with their families. One was quite tall for her age, chattering merrily to her father and younger siblings and twisting one of her coppery pigtails between her fingers. The other stood still and quiet, looking at her feet, between an alabaster-skinned man in an expensive suit and a lithe woman with a cloud of dark hair, who seemed to be taking it in turns to dispense last-minute advice.

The copper-haired girl’s face lit up when she saw Merrilyn. “You must be the other we’re waiting for! It’s only three of us at this entrance. Rural area and all.” She dove forward and grabbed Merrilyn’s hand, tugging her towards the little white shed. “Can we open it now?” she asked her father. “Please, please, please?”

"Let the poor girl get her bags, Viv," the man said, moving over to help Miss Dupris haul them out of the car.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Her grin looked anything but chastened. "I’m Vivian Weathers. We live in Nags Head." Merrilyn managed to get her own name out before Vivian launched into a stream of explications about her family and her parents’ jobs, which ended with, "And look, my dad’s got your stuff on the floating cart, does that mean we can open the door now?"

Miss Dupris looked at her watch, then nodded. With a gleeful whoop, Vivian dove for the door, popped the catch, and flung it open. Merrilyn and the other girl had to trot to keep up with her.

Instead of the tiny shed the exterior might have suggested, the door led to a long, curving hallway, painted a cheerful green. “Say goodbye!” Vivian crowed, waving frantically out at the garden. Merrilyn just smiled weakly at Miss Dupris, and the other girl barely had a chance to whisper farewell before Vivian slammed the door shut.

Pulling their carts along, the three girls started down the strange corridor. “I’ve got two brothers at RPI already,” Vivian said, “but they never would tell me how this works. They just get to walk through a mirror at home now, but first years go the long way. It’s traditional, I guess. It’ll let us out somewhere in the school, I think.”

"We’re not walking all the way to Virginia, are we?" Merrilyn asked, horrified.

Vivian laughed. “No, no, of course not! These passages are, like, a shortcut. Something about space getting all bended up and spitting us out at the school. I’m not sure why.”

"Um," said the dark-haired girl. "It’s because Peyton Randolph liked tinkering with architecture. His home in Williamsburg’s famous for it."

"Oh," Vivian said. "What book’s that in?"

"None of them. Um, I mean, none on our list for the first year. I’m sure it’s in lots of books, really. I just know because… well… it’s family history. Sort of. In a way."

"Family history?" Merrilyn asked.

The girl nodded, still looking far more at the cobbled floor than at Merrilyn or Vivian. “My name’s Emilia Rowe-Poythress.”

"Poythress?" Merrilyn echoed. "As in—"

"As in Poythress?” Vivian exploded. “Poythress-Poythress?”

"Um. Yes." Emilia’s cheeks reddened, and she pretended to fuss with her bags to avoid looking at Vivian or Merrilyn. "It’s not a big deal, really…"

Vivian looked on the verge of peppering Emilia with questions, but Merrilyn headed her off. “What’s that?” she said, pointing ahead. There was something on the walls as they rounded another bend.

"Ooooh! C’mon!" Vivian said, skpping ahead.

"Steady and slow, young lady," said a cool, pleasant voice with an accent that reminded Merrilyn of Gone with the Wind. Merrilyn caught up with Vivian to see a portrait of a woman in an old-fashioned white dress, with fluffy sleeves and a blue sash tied around her waist. To Merrilyn’s astonishment, the painting could move and speak, the oils flowing smoothly over the canvas. “Remember, the young witches and wizards of the Randolph-Poythress Institute should comport themselves with grace and charm at all times.”

Vivian giggled, but bobbed a little curtsey and said, “Yes’m.” 

For the next few minutes, as the three girls walked in what seemed a never-ending spiral, they passed many more portraits. Most offered words of encouragement and congratulations, though some gave advice and others criticized their hair and clothes. One addressed Emilia as a great-great-granddaughter, setting off another flood of crimson blushing and apologetic stammers.

Finally, they came to a large white door. The letters RPI were etched on it in loopy calligraphy, and there was a little image of a pineapple carved below them. Vivian’s grin looked fit to split her face as she reached for the brass knob, but her hand hovered just above it. “Well, c’mon, then. Let’s do it together!” She waited while Merrilyn’s and Emilia’s hands joined hers, and with a great push, they opened the door—

And found themselves in an enormous ballroom with a mosaic tiled floor, brightly painted walls, and sunlight streaming in from long, high windows. It reminded Merrilyn of pictures she’d seen of Versailles. To have come from a suburban cul de sac to a humble soundside garden to this palatial estate in so short a time was dizzying to Merrilyn, and she grabbed on to her bags to steady herself.

All around them, other panels were opening in the walls, and a few dozen other students were filling the ballroom, tugging their floating luggage behind them. Some were chatting like old friends, while others, like Merrilyn, gawked at their surroundings. Vivian saw someone she recognized, squealed, and dashed off, leaving Merrilyn and Emilia to shuffle awkwardly beside each other until a clapping sound from the front of the room caught their attention. A gray-haired woman in a pine green dress stood on a little dais, smiling at them. “Welcome to the Randolph-Poythress Institute, first years!” she said. “If you would all follow me, your fellow students are eager to greet you.”

Merrilyn looked at Emilia, who was trembling slightly. She held out a hand. “Come on,” she said. “Maybe we can sit together?” Merrilyn didn’t know what was in store for them, but if this girl, a scion of the school’s founder, could be nervous, then at least she wasn’t alone.

Caelum Fothringay was a well known Metamorphmagus from the late 1700s to the early 1800s. His metamorphamagus capabilities superceeded all others, indeed he could even make wings sprout from his back with which he could truly fly (there were some theories that this might have been related to his mother’s Veela heritage).

Unfortunately he was captured, without his wand, by an extreme muggle religious group who believed him to have been sent by “Satan” and proceeded to cut off the wings he had grown before he had a chance to morph into a more mundane appearance.

Fallen by loriLUNACY

One of the Prince family’s collection of family Photos, the Wizarding Naturalist, Julienne Prince, when travelling across America in 1965 after teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

Much intrigued by the natural world she discovered for the Western World the Brazilian Featherwing dragon, as well as its smaller Pygmy cousin. She also spend time with groups of Natives in North and South America, seeking to learn about magic. While she made little headway in the North, Southern groups were more than happy to teach her their own curious brand of magic which she extolled as “efficient and practical, as well as easy, a most useful style of spellcasting that I intend to continue using even home in England” in her book “Sorcerers of South America”.

(via (Image) - MyBlackWings’s soup)

Slug & Jigger Apothecary is proud to present its new line of unbreakable glass potions ingredient bottles. The bottles are carefully designed with appropriate animals and plants on each so even the most nearsighted apprentice can easily see which bottle they’re grabbing. The items represented on the bottles include all the common plant and animal products but also extend to depicting more unusual ingredient sources, such as the octopoid seen above—useful for tentacles or, in a pinch, for squid ink. With the low prices for these phials, you’ll be able to re-outfit your workroom easily. Soon ingredient mixups will be a thing of the past.

The new unbreakable potion phials: ask for them at Slug & Jigger.

[ETA: The maker has an Etsy shop.]

Ezra-Selene Selwyn had never much cared for the gender-binary. They’d announced this at the dinner table, aged eight, and the statement, so adult from a childs mouth, had finished the argument over whether they were to wear the ruffled or the lace-edged robes to the Notts winter ball.

Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn had quickly helped them pick out a name and Ezra-Selene loved to play with it, some days just Ezra, some days just Selene, some days neither, some days both. They/them were always preferred.

Their younger brother Silas was at first confused but quickly grew to understand that all people were their own and, provided they could wield a wand, who was to argue with their perception of self? (They were something of a blood-purist family after all. There were some traditions there was no escaping.)

But Ezra-Selene grew up remarkably well-adjusted for a child of a Dark family and was sorted into Ravenclaw where they thrived. When Voldemort rose in Britain however Ezra-Selene fled. They had seen too much of the Muggle-Grindelwald’s antics on the continent, heard of those outside the norm like themselves bundled away into camps and never heard from again. It scared them.

Ezra-Selene fled to America and joined the southern wixes, living in the mountains and the prairie and minding herds of winged horses and unicorns. They quite liked the stories of the muggle cowboys and decided to buy a gun. You could never be too careful – a protego might deflect spells, a stupefy might stun the enemy but a gun dealt with them, and no shield yet devised could deflect a hard metal bullet.

They became well known over time. The first of the mage-riders to wield a gun, tucked into a holster right beside their wand, the first to prove its usefulness. Ezra-Selene was never proud of it. But they did so love people not forgetting their pronouns for once, even if they did stutter slightly when asking for an autograph.

(Image One from Here. Character is an invention for a Fic I (essayofthoughts) am writing, do say if you perceive Ezra-Selene as potentially problematic)

Hadrian

There’s more than one sort of border in that world.

There’s the obvious one, the border between muggle and magic, the one represented by the alley wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, the squared off bricks of  the wall between the worlds.

But there’s the other.   Longer, darker.   Physically marked with the remnant stretches of a much older, more imposing, wall.

It would seem, to the observer, to be obvious.  Just as the meadow submitted to the plow, as the tree fell before the axe, the water moved to the orders of the pump, and the rocks crumbled under the hammer – so would the magic of the sowed furrow, the docile beast, the alloyed metal and the twisted fiber overcome the magic of fen and wave and cave, fang and fin and feather.

The Roman mages came with the power of the straight line, the level path.  Their advance was fueled with channeled water, lighted with oil behind glass, freshened with sanitary sewers, warmed with wine and spices of a thousand farms.    But as they advanced north, further and further from the warm, long-settled heart of Empire, they felt more and more opposition.   On that ground, the settled force of farm and market, chamber and paddock, could not stand against the ever-shifting, never-sleeping energies of the wild.  

In the end, the magic that defeated Gaul was no match for the magic that overwhelmed the Neanderthals.   The Roman mages shrugged and told their generals.  The generals cursed and wrote their consuls.  The consuls debated and told the Emperor.  

The emperor sighed, and mused, and remembered his days on the Danube frontier, and the reports from the wilds of  the Hercynian Forest, of mages commanding wolf-headed dragons.   The power of the wilds was vast.

"Build me a wall," he ordered.  "Twelve feet high you’ll make it, so three can march abreast."   Three mages to walk as sentries, to match the triads of witches the Picts preferred to send, each trio with the wisdom of age, the fury of the mother bear, and the stamina of youth.   

"Build a wall," he ordered, "Root it in native blood and tears, anchor it with the sweat of our soldiers, and brace it with the gold of our commerce.  Then let them try and come."

And they did, and so it held for hundreds of years, until the mages of Rome were recalled home.  And in the darkness they left behind, the magic of the wild crept closer, and the abandoned children of both worlds took the stones of the wall back to their hamlets and reworked them into homes, hoping that the magic that remained would help protect them from the rising tide of people waiting on foreign shores for the chance to show their strength.

*-*-*-*-*-*-

My conception of “The Border” and the idea of its role in muggle/wizard relations is largely informed by Vera Rozalsky’s amazing “Amends, or Truth and Reconciliation,” which, though unfinished, is worth reading.   That work, and her others, also deeply influence my headcanon on the subject of wild magic and the evolution of the wizarding world.  Her work is, in turn, fully cited for where she found her inspirations.

Imagery here grew from a seed planted by her “The Grey Wolves,” – “They had come out of the Northern mists as wizards, and had been magical for as long as they had been at all.”

Short format headcanon inspired by the no-longer-active “Notes from the Wizarding World” at livesandliesofwizards.

The actress Temperance Spiel as one of the leading witches in The Wayward Witches: Being the Serpent Under ‘t, a play about the disastrous attempts of several witches to meddle in Scottish Muggle politics that occurred in the 11th century. As the witches’ plans to put a puppet on the throne devolve into fighting amongst themselves and reckless spell casting, the Muggles around them suffer greatly.

The play is actually based on real events that are the historical precedent for the muggle-famous tragedy Macbeth, written by the squib William Shakespeare. The play’s title is actually taken from Macbeth: the witches in Shakespeare’s play are referred to as “weyward sisters” in early drafts, an apt descriptor of the witches out of their depth.

(photo of Florence Welch)

Dragon Fire Mechanism

One of the most impressive and key traits of Dragons is their ability to breathe fire. Using this ability Dragons are known to defend their territory, make displays - both threatening and in courtship - as well as, on occasion, cook their food. 

However it is unknown quite how Dragons evolved their ability to breathe fire. There are currently several theories about how Dragons evolved into their present day form, and several more on the process of the evolution of their ability to breathe fire.

It is widely accepted that Dragons evolved from some kind of sauropod - what muggles term dinosaurs - although some, such as Professors Rammurthy and Ming (the spouse of the Professor Ming of the Legilimency study) have speculated that Dragons instead evolved from pterosaurs alone. A very few, headed by Professors Markman and Clove, have tried to claim that Dragons evolved from an offshoot of the Archaeopteryx, although this is only likely insofar as the feathered Dragons of the Americas are concerned.

While the true root of their evolutionary tree is uncertain, the earliest evidence of venom production is undeniable. Fossils of proto-dragons, which fortunately include the skulls, show unique passages in the foreteeth of fifteen of the eighteen found. These Proto-dragon skeletons, even of the largest, are barely the size of wolves and the smallest three are barely the size of a kneazle.

Due to the small size, yet otherwise similar forms of the remaining three it is believed that they were immature dragons of the same kind. The dragons found have been given the temporary nomenclature of “Protodraconis primovenenum”, or “first venomed proto-dragons” and date from the earliest years of the Paleolithic. Several, larger, specimens of Protodraconis primovenenum, nearly the size of a hippopotamus, have been found with early hominin bones within their ribcages, suggesting that such hominins were prey to the proto-dragons.

Evidence from a later site, dating from the Middle Palaeolithic, shows a Proto-dragon, again much larger than its forebears, nearing the size of an elephant, with its head crushed, the teeth cracked open, to reveal the venom channels. The evidence of human occupation at the site, as well as evidence of controlled use of fire, has lead some magi-archaeologists, magi-palaeontologists and magi-anthropologists to speculate that the venom of these Proto-dragons may in fact have been flammable, and that early hominins used it to start fires.

Dragons seem to have spread out of Africa at about the same rate and in the same way as humans, suggesting they may have scavenged from human kills or otherwise taken advantage of a human presence. It is believed that Dragons may have crossed into America with the first humans to do so, although there is very little actual evidence to support this, beyond New World Dragons being recently proven able to interbreed with Old World Dragon varieties.

At some point during the Chalcolithic period - the brief period between the Neolithic and the Bronze Age, in which Copper was the preferred metal - it seems that a population of Dragons living in the Levant were, through some unknown ecological process, forced into consuming iron-bearing and iron-rich stones and rocks, including metallic stones such as Haematite. Whether they ate because they were starving or in order to make digestion of tough meat easier, is unknown but what is known is that any stone eating process had to be continuous, as the Dragons stomach acid would pick away at the ore-bearing stones. 

The metal in the stone seemed to become applied to their teeth, as shown by cross-sections of the teeth from skulls of early Dragons found in the Levant. How this happened is unknown, though dragonologists have stated before that Dragons have a unique magic of their own, and have suggested that this may have been done by the innate magic of Dragons.

It is believed that the metal being applied to their teeth, combined with their flammable venom, resulted in accidental sparks, when dragons clacked or ground their teeth, which Dragons learned to use to create almost spitballs of flaming venom.

While this species is long gone the Chinese Fireball Dragon still retains the ability for this original type of fire-breathing, as well as the later type which most modern Dragons use. Currently dragon venom seems largely to be spat and evaporate, before a spark is created, igniting the gaseous venom, although there are a few sub-branches of Dragon types which learnt instead to spit venom in a spray, rather than a ball.

A very few Dragon breeds - the Peruvian Vipertooth and the Norwegian Ridgeback most notably - have two types of venom, one of which is used to breathe fire, the other of which is used as a venom to kill creatures with.

As yet it is uncertain how much of Dragon evolution is still only speculation, but what is known is that even when they were first evolving, Dragons were creatures to fear.

(Image Source)

(With this post I would like to announce a page covering all Dragon-related posts on this blog, to be found here, made at the request of killingkari. If You have any requests about organisation, tagging or any creatures you’d like to see, feel free to send in an ask.)

On the origins of magic: how the wands came to be. (4/?)

From: Postcolonial resistance in the mythologies of the magical peoples of the South Asian subcontinent ed. Sunil P. Patil (1991).

Old magic. Old magic old magic old magic.

How could people forget?

How could people forget the magic that had helped raise the great stones, that had marked the stars that pyramids pointed to, that had sunk ancient cities and raised rivers from deserts?

How could they forget?

All too easily, the answer rang back, all too easily. They had forgotten how to live, breathe and drink magic. Had forgotten how the men of yore had lived without wands; how without those twigs the magic was channeled through movement and sway and song and sacrifice. How without those twigs the only barrier to the magic you could make was yourself, was your own mind, your own sacrifice. How without those twigs you could do anything when you had enough strength.

Magic was a muscle, the elders said. Practice with it and it shall grow, just as by lifting rocks and timber each day your muscles shall grow. But take one of those sticks, those little twigs and you are using a lever to do that work for you, you are letting yourself be weak when you could be so so so strong.

The young ones ignored them, pointed at them laughed at these elders stuck in their old ways with dreams of a great and ancient past but naught to show for those dreams, and argued that now they were old how could they sway and sing and sacrifice? Was it not better to do less for more? To conserve, waiting for a greater task, The Great Task? Why offer themselves up mind, body and soul to magic when in a moment, with a mere flick of a wrist, with a wand they could do the same thing just as well? And these elders could lament wands all they liked, but they had nothing to show for all their boasts of glory, could not with such precision, with such finesse accomplish the things these children could.

The elders’ faces were impassive. 

The elders’ faces betrayed nothing.

So it went, for years and years, the children slowly outnumbering the elders, growing proud and mighty in their strength until the elders worried. Worried that in their pride the children would grow reckless, would forget that magic was no toy but a powerful force, one to be reckoned with - one that would demand its pay.

A great council they summoned, drawing magical folk from every corner of the uncivilized world and told them of their fears - of how they feared the children had forgotten the old magics of the world, had forgotten what it meant to channel power and force, what it meant to be responsible.

They fought. Father against son. Mother against daughter. 

And late that night elders from every corner of the uncivilized corners of the world met in an old forest, untouched by time and human hands, still throbbing with the ancient magic of the world, deep and dark. There they breathed their old and ancient magic for the very last time, letting it seep through their veins, rich and heady and intoxicating. Then with calls foreign to all, they rose and bound their children.

You want wands? they asked the magic they worshipped and worked with, You want levers and magic getting weaker?

Then so be it.

They bound the magic and their children all at once, forever cursing those who took in hand the twigs they called wands, weapons, to be doomed to a life torn away from the old magics of the world. So it was that when a child used a wand, working wandless came to be a burden, a path fraught with great difficulty that few except the most dedicated would ever tread.

It is their punishment. The consequence of their folly. 

When you see them, with their wands, remember the old magic, the magic that you breathe, drink and live. It is this magic in your veins, the magic of the civilized lands of the world. Dusty, old with time. Exercise it, children, use it, concentrate, feel it, let it flow through you, lest it be taken from you and lost forever.

I am disappointed, of course, that father never got to see this book. I think he would have quite enjoyed it. Would have found plenty of good use for it in his research. 

Naturally, as you might imagine, the book is popular only among a few select academic circles in the wizarding world. Wands as punishment? Sacrilege! Though I suppose one ought to be thankful it did not receive the Myths of Magical Europe treatment. A.R.

(Submitted by essayofthoughts, with a few minor edits on my part.)

No one noticed the mergirl broken on the rocks after the battle of Hogwarts.

She clung to them with such fierceness her sisters in the Lake could not retrieve her. Her name was Tethys; she was the granddaughter of the mercheiftainess. She had a lover, named Kelpus, and a pet grindylow she’d raised from a hatchling. She loved to swim near the surface, loved to sing in the water, break the surface and hear how her voice changed in the air. She studied the plants of the Black Lake and brought those of interest to Sprout or Hagrid. 

She was struck by a curse from Dolohov’s wand.

She was going to have a long life, live two full centuries, have fifteen children, and thirty grandchildren and sixty-eight great-grandchildren. She was going to gift each of them with their own grindylow; she was going to be the first merperson to speak the human tongues in air. She was going to be the greatest cheiftainess their colony had ever seen, she was going to bring up lost artefacts from the bottom of the lake for the wizards and witches of Hogwarts, she was going to be the one who won her people representation in the Ministry of Magic.

Instead she died, choked out and drowned in air, on the rocks by the side of the Black Lake.

(Image Source)