Hogwarts: A History

an Pre-Quel to the Harry Potter Series

By J. Jacobson

Book 1: The Crest of Infinity

By the time Mr. Gordon McDavish reached the rain soaked edge of the dark forest, the prospect of turning back had not only crossed his mind, but embedded searing tracks that weighed down his eyes. Mr. McDavish had done his job and this was far beyond the call of duty. As ambassador of magic affairs for the Lynn Province Council, Mr. McDavish had followed orders and made visit to the abandoned Plythe Manor. To his relief the house was not only empty of humans, magic or otherwise, but it looked as if it had been untouched for decades. Thick layers of dust coated the large oak table and chairs that had once seated nobility. However, as Mr. McDavish had been about to leave, one thing caught his eye. It was in the corner of the fireplace. At first Mr. McDavish had thought it to be a twig, but it was too straight, and upon picking it up, he found it to be surprisingly light for its length. Smiling, he had given it a little swish and then something happened he could not explain. A blue set of sparks shot from the wand, as if it were on fire. Then, as quickly as it had happened, the sparks vanished and the room was still. Mr. McDavish had been shaken by this. As far as he knew there was only one person of magic blood in his distant relations, and that was well over a hundred years ago.

Mr. McDavish had thought it best to keep the wand. He didn't know how wands worked, but the person who lost it may be glad of its recovery. Mr. McDavish imagined that, were he in such a position, he would appreciate a muggle, such as himself, taking the time to be of assistance. Unfortunately, many muggles were becoming less and less tolerant of magic folk. Roomers of secret societies, aimed at the extermination of magic folk, circulated among the villages and provinces. Signs, reading "muggle only" could be seen in what had once been tolerant establishments, and many magic families were no longer teaching their children witchcraft and wizardry, in the hopes that they would be spared discrimination.

As Mr. McDavish stood on the edge of the forest, peering into the trees a chill swept across him. What if they had been there, as his superiors suspected. What if he had found a group of practicing witches and wizards? According to a new decree, he would have had to take them into custody. Strict rules now required any official meeting of more than 3 magic folk, be conducted only in daylight and within a known, tolerant establishment. Mr. McDavish clutched the wand in his hand. The edge of the woods was illuminated by a crystal moon, which hung, breathlessly in a dark sky. But in the trees beyond Mr. McDavish, something had moved and it was for this reason he had gone out of his way that night. Something was wrong. A flare, a glitter or green flame briefly illuminated a distant clearing, and was followed by the curdling scream of a voice Mr. McDavish recognized. Mr. McDavish could stay at the edge of the woods no longer.

Hurtling forward, Mr. McDavish rushed into the forest, tearing his clothes on boughs and branches that sought to restrain him but did not succeed. In the clearing, he could see two men, one of whom lay motionless on the ground. Within moments Mr. McDavish's fears were confirmed. Elias Gryffindor lay, face down, in a pool of blood.

"Mendalous," gasped Mr. McDavish as he looked up toward the thin man who stood, not two paces away. "What happened to him?" But Mendalous wore a look of triumph and accomplishment on his face that made Mr. McDavish suddenly uneasy. Mendalous pointed at Elias Gryffindor, but instead of a finger, he pointed a wand.

"He did it. He's one of them McDavish. His own spell backfired and killed him. Would you believe it? He tried to attack me." But the moonlight must have revealed doubt on Mr. McDavish's face for Mendalous did not lower the wand. Mr. McDavish had only known Elias Gryffindor as a respectable member of the community. The Gryffindor family ran a small masonry company that was known for its remarkable craftsmanship. Mr. McDavish would have never guessed Elias to be magic, although, now that he considered it, there were a great many times he had remarkably escaped close accidents in his work. Once an entire wall had collapsed around him, but where bricks should have crushed Elias, a window had suddenly appeared. How Elias could have died here, in such a simple place, did not make sense.

Mendalous eyed Mr. McDavish. "He had you fooled as well. All this time he strode before us, pretending to be muggle! Thought he had us all fooled. I alone suspected otherwise. I followed him here, knowing that he was up to no good. It was I who caught him in the act, leaving the house, which we now know, is used for magic. When I was about to arrest him pulled out his wand and attacked me. I only fought in self-defense."

Mr. McDavish stood stunned, half afraid to flee, half afraid to stay. Mendalous had been on the council for two years and in those two years, he had seen things change for the worse for magic folk. Random disappearances and unnecessary raids and hearings had become commonplace. Mr. McDavish glanced at the still body of Elias Gryffindor, hoping to awaken from a sickening dream. Mendalous took a stride forward, his blue eyes piercing Mr. McDavish's mind. "You wouldn't want to accuse me, my friend. It was only self-defense."

"Elias would not have harmed so much as a fly," Mr. McDavish said at last, sweat seeping from his hands.

Mendalous smiled, a toothy grin. "You seem to have forgotten about the Vanderush affair," he sneered. "Elias killed three men."

Mr. McDavish knew this but he, unlike others, also knew that Elias had been on the road with his two daughters and his son. They were traveling to trade for supplies, when three masked bandits came upon them. No one knew how Elias and his children had survived. They were unarmed and seemingly overpowered. All that was known was that the three bandits were found dead, with no sign of a physical struggle.

From beneath the cloak of Elias Gryffindor came a painstaking gasp. Mr. McDavish flew to Elias' pale form and knelt at his head. "He's breathing," Mr. McDavish exclaimed. In his exhilaration he pulled the wand from under his cloak and fumbled with it for a moment. "Perhaps if we can figure out how to use this, we can bring him back. I've heard it can be done, but we haven't much time. Do you know how to use it?"

Mendalous' face turned sheet white. "No," he whispered. "I haven't the faintest." Mendalous stared, a look of uneasy wonder spreading across his face, as he observed Mr. McDavish waive the wand at Elias. Mendalous stepped closer to Mr. McDavish. "You're not magic. It won't work for you."

Elias gasped again and Mr. McDavish grasped the wand in both hands and pointed it at the bloodstained head, concentrating with all his power. A voice of panic broke his concentration, however, just as a blue mist was gleaning from the tip of the wand. "This man was a killer," Mendalous shrieked, raising the wand in his hand and pointing it to Mr. McDavish. Having had quite enough, Mr. McDavish glanced at Mendalous, for only enough time to see an hysterical face, as sweaty as his own palms. "It was self defense," Mr. McDavish yelled, a little more loudly than he had intended to. To his surprise, however, Mendalous smiled and flicked his wrist in exactly the way Mr. McDavish had been attempting to.

"And so was this," hissed Mendalous, his voice rising shrilly, "ava kediva!"

Suddenly the green light Mr. McDavish had seen earlier engulfed the clearing, and just as suddenly, everything went dark and deathly quiet.

More to Come...

Chapter Two

    Miles away from the forest, a girl named Helga Huffelpuff stood in a candlelit attic, atop a great pile of pillows. In her hand she cradled a very round cat. "For my next trick," she announced, "I shall turn this cat into a toad." Across from Helga, sat her opposite; a dark thin girl with long black hair and green eyes. Though candles were the only source of illumination in the room, their differences were striking. Helga produced a sturdy looking wand and aimed it at the cat's head.
    "You're bluffing," said Rowena finally. "Most witches your age fail at turning a teacup into a mouse. Yet, you attempt to transform Mr. Snuffles from a furry creature to a slimy one?" A look of hesitation shown upon Helga's face as she looked down at the purring lump of fur. Finally she set Mr. Snuffles down and looked at Rowena with a sigh.
    "Last week I managed to make his tail disappear," she admitted. "It came back though. My mum fixed it."
    Rowena studied Helga's expression. "You're worried about her. I can tell."
    Helga brushed her eyes with her hand, glancing nervously at Rowena. "Just a little," she admitted. "She's had five children but I always worry. I suppose I shouldn't. What could be more natural?" Rowena aimed her own cherry colored wand in the air and out of it's tip emerged a handkerchief, complete with Helga's initials on it.
    "You shouldn't worry," she said curtly. "My mother's the best midwife in the known world. I swear, no harm will come to either your mother or the baby." Helga stared at the handkerchief in amazement, before plucking it from the air and blowing her nose.
    Suddenly the door burst open and a very thin woman, wrapped in a shawl poked her vulture like neck through the doorway. Rowena quickly slid her wand up her sleeve. "Helga, darling, the woman squawked, "are you quite all right? No funny business I assume? I was just on my way to the linen closet and I thought I heard a noise."
    Helga bowed momentarily. "Yes auntie," she said, rather loudly. "I just had a bit of a sneeze. Nothing to worry about."
    Helga's aunt squinted through the darkness, as if she could see the smirks on the girl's faces. "Well no magic missy" she announced. "Your parents left me in charge and it is my first priority to keep you safe. However, I cannot be held responsible for what you do on your own. I am well aware that your parents approve of all sorts of nonsense but I won't have any of it in this house. Especially not these days. Why, if the council found out"
    "We'd defend ourselves," Rowena interrupted quietly. Helga gasped and waived at Rowena to stifle her thoughts. "You're a muggle. You wouldn't understand." Helga's face turned bright red, but her aunt could neither see nor sense the sincerity with which Rowena spoke.
    Squinting further into the room Helga's aunt shook her head. "I'm sorry, bad ear. Did you say something about bubbles?"
    Helga sighed with relief. "We're fine auntie. We won't do any magic here. I promise." With that, Helga's aunt left the room, muttering to herself about the irresponsibility of youth.
    Rowena was still laughing but Helga managed a stern look. "Rowena, how could you? It was so good of her to let us a room to ourselves. She's only trying to help. Honestly, sometimes I think you weren't raised within a thousand miles of civilization."
    Instantly Rowena was on her feet, a green flame welling in her eyes. Mr. Snuffles noticed and took refuge behind an abandoned chair. "What is that supposed to mean Helga?"
Helga picked up a pillow and held it to her. "It just means that you don't give people enough credit."
"She insulted me and my family," insisted Rowena. "The Ravenclaws have been a warrior tribe for nearly six centuries. Everybody who's anybody knows it.
"Not her," pleaded Helga. "My auntie is lucky if she knows what day it is or what year. You know she's screwy in the head." Rowena smiled at this and in relief Helga smiled too. "But still, you are just a child. How could you personally defend yourself if you had to?"
Rowena's smile became subtly more sinister as she twirled her wand in through her fingers. Finally she nodded. "All right," she said, "I'll sow you something. But you have to swear never to tell anyone, and if you keep your promise, I'll teach you."
Helga bit her lip. "I swear, I won't tell anyone. Not a sole. Teach me something, you saw how horrible my spell went with Mr. Snuffles. Then only spells I know involve baking and housekeeping and sometimes sewing. I've no idea how to immobilize people, or give your enemies boils."
Rowena removed a piece of parchment from her robe and placed it in the air in front of her. Helga gasped. "That's not the trick," Rowena frowned, as Helga regained her composure. Presently words appeared on the parchment. At first Helga thought they were just shadows being cast by the now dancing candle light, but after too many of these coincidences she realized that tiny words were scrolling and disappearing across the page. Rowena was whispering these words when out of nowhere a wind filled the attic. Helga held her robes to her and looked for a reaction from Rowena, but in the place where Rowena had stood, there was only the empty parchment.
Helga jumped several times, clapping. "A vanishing trick," she exclaimed, "I swear, I'll never tell anyone. Please, you must teach me." But as no answer came to her and as Mr. Snuffles slinked further under his chair, it occurred to Helga that the spell may have been too complicated for Rowena. After all, even the best witches and wizards, she had heard, could make mistakes. If even one of those scrolling words was pronounced incorrectly, Helga knew her friend may very well have caused utter chaos. Perhaps she was shrunk, or even transported back in time. Helga's eyes welled with tears, which she tried to fight. "Rowena," she finally cried, "I'm sorry I made you do it. Please come back."
"You worry too much," came a voice from the window. Helga spun around and rushed to her friend, but Rowena did not return the gaze. Instead, she was focused on a black dot in the sky. She had become very still and Helga shivered for it was as if the cold that should have been coming from the night window was falling off of Rowena's robes. "The time will come for worrying," she said. "I can feel it."
Suddenly Helga recognized the shape on the horizon and she threw open the window, just as the great black raven landed on the sill. Hands trembling, she watched Rowena pull a treat from her robe and offer it to the bird. "Featherton," Rowena soothed, "you look startled. What is the matter?"
It was then Rowena noticed Helga pointing to the roll of parchment tied to Feartherton's leg. It was secured with what appeared to be the blood-soaked hem of a dress.

Yeah!!!!!!!!

I AM SUCH A FAN OF HARRY POTTER MY FRIENDS NEVER MET ANYONE AS UPSEST W/ HIM AS I AM......... DANIAL RADCLIFF IS SOOOO HOT!!!!!!!!!!!

Hogwarts: A History

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