New Ideas
The History of Magic classroom, which normally exuded the monotony of Cuthbert Binns’ lectures, presented a curious sight that morning. As they entered, the students noticed that the usual ghost, whose presence was synonymous with drowsy lessons, was not at the center of the room. Instead, he hovered in a corner, motionless, his eyes fixed on something invisible, as if in a trance.
In the spot where he usually held his lessons, there was a painting, prominently displayed on the wall. It depicted a man with aristocratic features, a piercing gaze, and an authoritative posture. He wore a black cloak exuding sobriety, and behind him, the background of the painting showed an immense library with shelves reaching the ceiling.
The students exchanged confused glances, whispering among themselves. Some seemed worried, while others appeared relieved. When the last student entered, closing the door behind them, the man in the painting deliberately cleared his throat. The sound reverberated through the room, silencing the murmurs.
"Very well, ladies and gentlemen, I believe everyone is present," he began, his voice clear and firm, devoid of hostility but carrying undeniable authority. "I am Phineas Nigellus, former Headmaster of Hogwarts. I have been appointed, at the request of the current Headmaster, to take charge of this discipline, which has long been relegated to a lamentable state. History of Magic is the foundation of all wizarding knowledge. Understanding our past is essential to navigating the complexities of the present and anticipating future challenges."
A soft murmur rippled through the room. Some students seemed ready to ask something, but Phineas raised a hand, signaling for silence.
"I know what you're thinking," he said with a hint of irony. "'Why a portrait?' Do not worry, I am more than capable of imparting knowledge."
He made a self-deprecating, ironic sound. Who would have thought he’d return to teaching even after death? Not even death, it seemed, would grant him any rest. And some thought that replacing a ghost with a painting of a dead man was a major change.
"This is the History of Magic class, a subject I regret to learn many of you have treated as an opportunity to nap. That will no longer be tolerated. The history of our people is a complex tapestry, interwoven with achievements, sacrifices, and, yes, mistakes that must not be repeated. My duty is to ensure that when you leave this classroom, you will be equipped to understand and navigate the wizarding world with the intelligence I hope you can still develop."
At his command to "write," a quill floated toward the blackboard, beginning to write in firm strokes as Phineas narrated:
Topics to Be Studied This Year
The Founders and the Founding of Hogwarts
- Historical context of the Wizarding Dark Ages.
- The construction of the castle as a fortress.
- The first generations of students and the challenges they faced.
The First Seal Treaty (1236):
- The initial attempt to create a European alliance to protect the magical community.
- How it failed and led to internal wars.
The International Statute of Secrecy (1692):
- The International Wizarding Council and tensions between continents.
- Social and cultural consequences of the imposition of secrecy.
The Founders' Alliance with Magical Creatures:
- The pact with the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest.
- The role of house-elves in maintaining the castle.
History Beyond Great Britain:
- The founding of schools like Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
- Hogwarts' connection to Middle Eastern and Ancient Egyptian magic.
Politics and International Treaties:
- The Gorzag Treaty and its implications.
- The creation of the International Statute of Secrecy.
- Alliances and tensions between Ministries of Magic.
Magical Wars and Revolutions:
- The goblin rebellion and the role of wizards.
- Grindelwald and the Second World War.
- The rise and fall of dark wizards.
Witchcraft and Wizarding Society:
- The origin of pure-blooded families.
- The evolution of wizard-muggle relations.
- Notable historical figures from Hogwarts.
Independent Studies:
- Required Reading: The Origins of Hogwarts Castle, by Elias Perceval.
- Supplementary Reading: Ancient Treaties and the International Wizarding Council, by Constance Abernathy.
Recommended Books:
- The Rise of Wizards and The Truth Behind the Veil: A Guide to Wizarding Secrecy.
Conversations with portraits like Lady Matilda of Rotherhithe, in the corridor of the Great Hall, on the foundation of Hogsmeade.
Phineas looked around the room, noticing the students were more attentive than he had anticipated, though they seemed somewhat bewildered. He felt a sudden urge to laugh as he watched them hurriedly pull writing materials from their bags. His expression softened slightly.
"The lessons will not be easy, but I expect you to make an effort. My goal is not merely to teach you historical facts but to provide you with the tools to understand how the past shapes the present. Be diligent, and perhaps there is still hope for this generation."
With that, Phineas indicated that the lesson had begun. As the students started taking notes, he smiled faintly, satisfied. History, at last, would be treated with the dignity it deserved.
McGonagall:
The Transfiguration classroom was nearly silent, save for the sound of quills being packed away and desks being pushed as the first-year students finished filing out. Minerva McGonagall was arranging the scrolls on her desk, her movements meticulous and efficient, as she always did at the end of a lesson.
When she finally looked up, she noticed one student remained in the room. Lyra Black, a Hufflepuff, stood just a few steps from her desk, holding a pile of bulky books and scrolls in her arms. Minerva sighed inwardly; she recognized that determined look. It was an undeniable reflection of her father.
"Miss Black, how can I help you?" the professor asked, adjusting her glasses with a slight arch of her eyebrow.
Lyra stepped forward and placed the materials firmly on the desk.
"Professor, I need your guidance on a Transfiguration project." Her voice was polite, but there was a resolute undercurrent that belied her young age.
Minerva narrowed her eyes, already anticipating the complexity of the request.
"And what sort of project might that be?"
"I want to modify the Animagus ritual," she said directly, without preamble.
Minerva's immediate reaction was skeptical, her posture stiffening slightly. She remembered how Sirius Black and his friends used to check out books on Animagi in their third year and felt a twinge of unease at the similarity in interests between father and daughter.
"Miss Black, human transfiguration is one of the most advanced and dangerous forms of magic," she said, rubbing her temples as if trying to fend off the headache she could feel brewing just thinking about handling the latest version of Sirius. "I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to proceed with such a project."
"Professor, has telling my father he ‘couldn't’ ever stopped him?" Lyra asked, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. "I’m going to pursue this one way or another. You can give me detention for a while, but you can’t watch me for the entire school year, can you?"
Yes, yes, Minerva should have expected this. Like father, like daughter. She sighed in defeat.
"What kind of modification do you want to make?" she decided to ask, already brainstorming ways to stop Lyra from pursuing these plans. "What exactly are you aiming to achieve?"
She watched Lyra relax, her shoulders dropping in relief, and suppressed a smile at the sight. So, she wasn’t as confident as she appeared, was she?
"I want to modify the Animagus ritual as a way to treat lycanthropy," Lyra explained. "I’ve been thinking about it since Dad and Uncle Remus told me about their experiences with transformations and how the wolf reacted in different situations."
Minerva blinked in surprise at the idea that Remus might feel safe enough with Sirius and his family to discuss his condition with his friend’s children. It was a welcome relief to know he had finally found people willing to accept him completely. It also spoke volumes about how Lyra Black seemed to be using her admittedly brilliant mind to find a way to help her uncle with a condition most people preferred to ignore or isolate to prevent risks to society.
Minerva recalled how she had felt upon hearing of James and Lily's deaths (and Peter’s, though that had turned out to be false—at the time, it had hurt nonetheless), Sirius’s imprisonment, and Remus leaving, alone. She remembered crying over how those lively, joyous children had suffered in a world outside the walls of this school.
"What do you have so far?"
Lyra nodded, as though expecting that reaction.
"I’ve been studying the Animagus ritual and lycanthropy in depth," she said, encouraged by the professor's interest. "My proposal is to create an adaptation that allows a werewolf to maintain consciousness during the transformation and eliminates the extreme pain associated with the process."
Minerva crossed her arms, evaluating the student's seriousness.
"Explain," she said, now embodying the Master of Transfiguration rather than merely a teacher or Minerva. She was a researcher.
Lyra pulled out a scroll of detailed notes and unrolled it across the desk.
"The Animagus ritual works by establishing a deep magical connection between the wizard and an animal form, which is an extension of their own magical essence. It allows transformation without loss of control because the process manifests something that is already a part of the wizard."
"Yes, that’s the theoretical basis," Minerva confirmed, leaning in to examine the notes. "Even so, for some reason, the ritual has never worked with werewolves."
"In the case of werewolves, the wolf isn’t a natural extension. It’s an external force imposed on the wizard’s body and magic through the curse of lycanthropy," she said, explaining her theory on why the ritual required adjustments. "My hypothesis is that the Animagus ritual can be adjusted to create a bond similar to that in a typical transfiguration, but instead of suppressing the wolf, it would integrate the two entities—human and lupine—into a balanced coexistence. Maybe mutualism or commensalism instead of the parasitic relationship that currently exists between the human and the wolf."
Minerva frowned, her academic curiosity beginning to blend with her caution. The ideas Lyra proposed gave a whole new meaning to the phrase “a dog is man’s best friend.” The concept of testing whether the wolf within the man could be tamed was academically fascinating.
"Continue."
"The current form of lycanthropy forces the wolf to take complete control during the full moon while the human part is pushed into the background, not even a spectator. There’s no balance; one is always the prisoner of the other, and people rarely like their jailers," she explained, as though it should be obvious. "The wolf’s extreme aggression stems from being isolated and allowed out only once a month, even then significantly restricted by cages, chains, or walls. My proposal is to use the Animagus ritual to enable controlled transformations outside the full moon. Wolves are highly social creatures, and if you’ve ever seen a dogfight, you’d know how a mistreated, isolated animal can behave. This would give the wolf opportunities to express itself under the human counterpart’s supervision, with the latter remaining a conscious presence—not controlling but guiding. This way, we could forge a bond between the two since all previous attempts to separate them have proven unsuccessful and harmful to both the wolf’s well-being and the human’s health. Even Wolfsbane, which contains aconite, a powerful poison, merely suppresses the wolf’s aggression while leaving the human extremely ill."
Minerva nodded slowly. It made a lot of sense.
Perhaps that was why all attempts at a cure had failed so far—because the wolf had always been treated as a disease rather than a sentient being, something to be eradicated. But it wasn’t that simple. The wolf was alive, and if it was alive, it had a soul. A soul anchored to its human counterpart, which meant it couldn’t be destroyed without taking the human down with it.
The true cure for lycanthropy would require extensive study and numerous experiments in Soul Magic, an extremely controversial and taboo field across the UK and many other countries.
Two souls coexisting in one body, able to switch places only during the full moon, was a completely new way of looking at lycanthropy. With this fresh perspective, the solutions would also be very different. Using the Animagus ritual to create a more harmonious and peaceful relationship between the souls inhabiting the body might be the gentlest approach to addressing the problem, and if a little Soul Magic theory was needed to make the process successful, it could easily be concealed.
Minerva chastised herself for rationalizing the study of such a taboo subject.
But maybe, if it was for Remus’s sake and that of so many other werewolves...
"And how do you plan to handle the inherent challenges of the process? For example, the unstable magic of lycanthropy that interferes with control during the transformation?"
Lyra pointed to a set of more detailed notes.
"I’m proposing that the ritual include a stabilizing matrix based on anchoring spells, perhaps using Moonstone since that seems to be the only external factor capable of forcing a transformation. This matrix would stabilize the interaction between the werewolf’s magic and the lupine form, allowing for a smoother transition. Additionally, the wizard’s conscious presence during the transformation would prevent the loss of control that occurs during full moons. Animagi don’t suffer during their transformations if they do it correctly, so in theory, we could achieve the same result for werewolves."
Minerva quickly read through the notes, absorbing the details.
"And what about the pain associated with the transformation? What causes that?"
"My theory is that the pain results from the human body resisting the lupine form. If the bond is correctly integrated, the body would recognize the wolf as part of itself, eliminating this resistance. The process would be closer to a voluntary transfiguration than a forced transformation."
Another sign that they are two souls in a single body is that the transformation is only partial—werewolves, when transformed, resemble neither wolf nor human but a grotesque hybrid of both. Animagi, on the other hand, have a single soul that can change shape, altering only the appearance of the flesh, but not the soul. Perhaps the partial transformation of the body is the result of the flesh attempting to force itself into a form more suited to the wolf soul, but resisting because the human soul is still dominant, the one that remains in control longer. If the Animagus Ritual could enable a complete transformation of the body, consciously and purposefully exchanging souls in a human transfiguration, then would the transformed form of the werewolf resemble a normal wolf much more closely? Or would there still be some human traits? Would the human counterpart then bear some wolfish characteristics as a result? How could they ethically test the results of such a project?
Minerva took a deep breath. The idea was incredibly advanced for someone so young, but more than that, it was an approach she had never considered. Integration instead of suppression... It wasn’t something typical wizards thought of when dealing with werewolves, as society had always treated them as abominations.
"Miss Black, do you have any idea of the impact of something like this?" she asked, her voice softer.
"I do, Professor," Lyra replied with a self-deprecating laugh and a shrug. "But what can I say? I’ve never been able to resist an unsolvable problem."
Minerva chuckled despite herself. She was well aware of how Lyra jumped from one project to another since arriving at Hogwarts, how the classes didn’t seem to provide the intellectual stimulation her truly exceptional mind needed. She was very much like her father in that respect, but it was a relief that Lyra didn’t seek that stimulation in disturbingly complex pranks.
Geniuses like Lyra were difficult to teach because they always needed more and more challenges to avoid boredom. Letting them get bored was never a good idea, Minerva had learned.
"This will be done under strict supervision," Minerva declared. "You will not conduct any experiments or tests without an adult present. I will supervise while you are at Hogwarts, and your father or Mr. Lupin will oversee during the holidays. Understood?"
Lyra hesitated.
"Understood, Professor," she said, lingering for a moment in thought. "I was hoping you would take on at least part of the research... Dad’s working on it too, and I won’t abandon the project, but another mind to help figure out how to make this work would be most welcome—much more than just a supervisor. Besides, you know the legal and ethical procedures involved in research of this nature better than either of us."
That made a bubble of excitement swell in her stomach and even brought a measure of relief in knowing she could ensure everyone’s safety throughout the process. Her researcher side was overjoyed, and her teacher side was pleased to help a student she always regretted being beyond her reach. Perhaps she could even improve, if only slightly, Remus’s quality of life.
As Lyra left the room, leaving behind her notes, Minerva sat at her desk and began examining them more closely. The idea of a stabilizing matrix was solid, but she identified gaps in the theory that would need addressing.
If we adjust the anchoring spells to include a protective layer of magic, we could minimize the risks of failure during the first attempts... she thought.
As improbable as it seemed, Minerva found herself intrigued. There was something in Lyra’s determination that made her believe that, under the right guidance, this project could actually succeed. And perhaps, just perhaps, change the wizarding world’s narrow perception of werewolves.