55 Ghostly History

The door to the History of Magic classroom creaked open as a gaggle of first-year students filed in, and their excited chatter filled the air. Shafts of pale sunlight filtered through the arched windows, illuminating the swirling motes of dust that danced lazily above the rows of ancient wooden desks.

Lucas followed his fellow Hufflepuffs into the room, the rainbow serpent still draped languidly around his shoulders. He made his way towards an empty seat near the front, and he couldn't help but notice the furtive glances and whispers that seemed to follow in his wake.

"Did you see him earlier? He was actually talking to that snake..."

"I heard he's a Parselmouth. You know, like Salazar Slytherin himself!"

"But he's Harry Potter! Surely he can't be... a dark wizard?"

Lucas kept his expression carefully neutral as he slid into his seat, the ancient wood groaning slightly beneath his weight. While the news of his rare ability had caused quite a stir, he was confident that most of his classmates would quickly get used it and come to see it as simply a quirk of his past encounter with Voldemort.

Beside him, Justin fidgeted nervously with the edge of his robes. "Wow, Harry," he muttered under his breath. "Everyone's staring at you like you've grown a second head or something."

Lucas offered his friend a reassuring smile, keeping his voice low. "Just ignore them, Justin. They're only curious. Give it a few days and they'll find something else to gossip about."

As if on cue, the classroom fell silent as a pearly-white figure glided straight through the blackboard at the front of the room. Several students gasped in shock with their eyes going wide as they took in the translucent form of their ghostly professor.

Professor Binns was an elderly man with a wispy beard and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on the end of his nose. He wore an old-fashioned suit and tie that seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Without so much as a glance at his startled students, the ghostly professor drifted over to the lectern and began rifling through a stack of ancient parchment. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were moving through water rather than air.

"Abercrombie, Euan," he intoned in a dull, droning voice that seemed to suck the very life out of the room. "Ackerley, Stewart. Baddock, Malcolm..."

As Professor Binns continued to read off names that were most certainly not on their class roster, Lucas leaned back in his seat with a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Beside him, Hermione's hand shot into the air, her face scrunched up in confusion and frustration.

"Professor Binns?" she called out, her voice cutting through the ghostly professor's monotonous litany of names. "Excuse me, sir, but I think there's been a mistake. None of us are named Euan or Stewart or Malcolm."

For a long moment, Professor Binns simply continued to read off names as if he hadn't heard her. Then, with a slow, almost reluctant turn of his head, he fixed Hermione with a blank, uncomprehending stare.

"I'm sorry, Miss...Bells, was it?" he asked in that same dull, droning voice. "Did you have a question?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and frustration. "It's Granger, sir," she said through gritted teeth. "Hermione Granger. And yes, I was just trying to point out that you seem to be using the wrong class roster. None of those names belong to anyone in this room."

Professor Binns blinked slowly and his translucent eyes seemed to stare right through Hermione as if she weren't even there. "The wrong roster, you say?" he repeated in a tone of mild confusion. "I'm quite certain this is the correct one, Miss...Brocklehurst. Now, if there are no further interruptions..."

He turned back to his parchment and resumed his monotonous recitation of names, leaving Hermione sputtering indignantly in her seat. Lucas couldn't help but chuckle under his breath at the look of utter disbelief on his friend's face.

Professor Binns droned on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that none of the names he was calling belonged to any of the students in the room, and the students began growing restless. Some students exchanged confused glances, while others simply shrugged and began to doodle idly in the margins of their parchment.

Lucas, for his part, simply leaned back in his seat and listened with half an ear as Professor Binns finally finished his roll call and launched into his lecture. The ghostly professor's voice was as dry and dusty as the ancient tomes that lined the shelves of the classroom, but Lucas found himself oddly fascinated by the subject matter nonetheless.

"Welcome to the study of magical history," Professor Binns began in his dry, dusty tone that seemed to suck the very air from the room. His pale, translucent form hovered before the class, drifting slightly with each word.

The ghostly professor's milky gaze swept over the sea of young faces, taking in their slouched postures and glazed expressions. A few students jolted upright under his scrutiny, but most simply blinked owlishly, already struggling to stay focused.

"We will explore a rich history spanning millennia," Binns continued in a low, monotonous drone. "From the dawn of civilization itself to the era we find ourselves in now."

He paused, perhaps expecting a reaction from his captive audience. When none came, the ghostly professor simply pressed on, undeterred.

"The great sorcerer Zamolxis, who walked this earth over six thousand years ago, believed magic to be an innate gift from the gods themselves. A sacred flame burning within the souls of a chosen few, igniting their abilities to shape the world around them through sheer force of will."

Lucas shook his head slightly. I already think this isn't true. I'm pretty certain my soul wasn't capable of magic before my transmigration into Harry Potter. I do believe my soul is now innately capable of magic, though it would probably be almost impossible to manipulate without a magic-capable body. My soul being inserted into this body must have imbued me with it somehow. Besides, magic is far more prevalent among children born to magic-capable beings. This must mean that magic is tied in some way to bloodlines.

"Zamolxis taught that only those born with this divine spark could ever hope to wield true magic," Binns went on, his voice taking on the faintest hint of animation as he delved deeper into his subject. "No amount of study or practice could imbue the gift upon those deemed unworthy by the gods. To the sorcerers of that era, magic was a sacred trust, not to be trifled with or abused by the uninitiated."

"Of course, there have always been those who challenged such restrictive beliefs. Fringe mystics and self-proclaimed warlocks who dared to suggest that magic could be...learned. Mastered through sheer dedication and force of will, regardless of one's bloodline or spiritual worthiness."

He shook his head slowly, the ghost of a sneer flickering across his insubstantial features. "Preposterous notions, to be sure. But such radical ideas have persisted throughout the ages, taking root in secret covens and heretical sects scattered across the globe."

Professor Binns drifted slightly to the side and his translucent form wavered like a candle flame in an errant breeze.

"The ancient druids who dwelled in the shadowed hollows of the great oak forests believed magic to be an intrinsic part of nature itself," he intoned. "To them, the very earth pulsed with an unseen power - the lifeblood of the world given corporeal form."

He lifted one wispy hand, gesturing vaguely towards the arched windows where dappled sunlight filtered through. "They saw magic all around them - in the turning of the seasons, the ebb and flow of the tides, the delicate unfurling of new leaves in springtime. It was a force to be revered, channeled through ancient rites and rituals designed to maintain harmony and balance."

Binns paused then, his milky eyes sweeping over the classroom as if gauging his students' comprehension

"The druids were not alone in their reverence for the natural world," the ghostly professor continued after a moment. "Across the vast steppes of Ancient Russia, the pagan shamans of the Kievan Rus' believed themselves to be conduits for the primal spirits - intermediaries between the seen and unseen realms."

Beside Lucas, Hermione's hand shot into the air with curiosity alight in her eyes. Professor Binns seemed not to notice her at first, simply continuing on with his lecture.

"Through drumming, ritual dance, and the consumption of sacred herbs and fungi, these shamans sought to commune with the spirit world. To draw upon the ethereal energies and channel them into tangible magic."

"Excuse me, Professor?" Hermione's voice piped up, clear and insistent despite the professor's obliviousness. "I'm curious - if these ancient cultures all believed magic stemmed from nature or spiritual realms, how did the idea of an inborn ability come about?"

Professor Binns turned his translucent gaze towards Hermione, blinking slowly as if just registering her presence. "Ah, yes...an insightful question, Miss...?"

"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger," she supplied, cheeks flushing slightly at having to say her name again.

Binns gave a small nod. "Well, Miss Granger, the belief in an innate magical ability can be traced back to the ancient civilizations of the Mediterranean and Middle East. The great sorcerers of Greece, Egypt, and Mesopotamia were the first to posit that magic flowed through the blood itself."

The ghostly professor drifted a few inches to the left. "They observed that the children of powerful wizards and witches often showed stronger talent from a very young age. Feats of magic that could not be attributed solely to study or training."

"In time, these early mages came to believe that magic was a hereditary gift," Binns went on in that dry, dusty tone. "Passed down through ancient bloodlines imbued with mystical potential by the gods themselves. The murkier one's lineage, the weaker the magical inheritance."

A slight frown creased Hermione's brow as she processed this. Beside her, Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"So you're saying only those born to wizarding families can truly master magic?" Justin spoke up, sounding slightly affronted. "What about Muggle-borns then? Where does their magic come from?"

Binns regarded the blond Hufflepuff for a moment before responding. "An interesting philosophical quandary, to be sure. One that has vexed scholars for centuries." He lifted one ghostly hand in a placating gesture. "The ancient texts offer few clear answers, I'm afraid. Though some early wizards have speculated that Muggle-borns may represent blessings from the gods - new magical bloodlines emerging."

Lucas couldn't help but shake his head minutely at that. Highly unlikely. More probable that magic is simply a heritable trait, like eye color or height. Muggle-borns must have a wizard somewhere in their ancestry, even if that link has been obscured over many generations.

"In any case," Binns pressed on, "the debate over the precise origins of magic raged across the ancient world. In India, the Hindu mystics believed the cosmos itself was constructed of pure magic, created by the dance of Shakti and Shiva. While in China, the sorcerers of the Han Dynasty sought to master the flow of chi - the invisible life force that permeated all things, believing it was closely tied to the origins of magic."

His voice took on a wistful quality then. "Alas, much knowledge has been lost to the ravages of time. Sacred texts and grimoires incinerated, ancient traditions snuffed out by the tides of war and conquest." He sighed, the sound little more than a soft rattle. "We can only speculate as to the truths these ancient mystics may have uncovered."

The ghostly professor drifted a few inches closer to the class, his pale form wavering like a candle flame in the still classroom air.

"But let us not dwell too long in the distant past," Binns went on in that dry, dusty rasp. "For the origins of modern wizardry can be traced to the great magical renaissance of medieval Europe."

He lifted one ethereal hand, gesturing vaguely towards the arched windows. "As the Dark Ages gave way to an era of enlightenment and learning, the mystic arts underwent a transformation unlike any before witnessed."

Binns' milky gaze swept over the assembled students. "The wise men and scholars of that time rejected the old pagan beliefs as superstitious folly. They sought instead to codify magic into a defined system of rules and principles to be studied and mastered through diligent scholarship."

The ghostly professor drifted a few feet to the right. "The ancient wizarding universities were founded during this period. Sanctuaries of knowledge where the secrets of spellcasting and potion-brewing could be preserved and expanded upon by the intellectual elite."

He paused then, perhaps for dramatic effect. When he spoke again, his voice took on a faint tone of reverence.

"It was at these hallowed institutions that the first wands were crafted from carefully harvested woods imbued with mystical properties. These conduits were designed to focus a wizard's inborn abilities, allowing for ever more precise spellcasting. Through these new wands, magic became greatly accessible to many. To cast magic without a wand meant needing a great deal of time to master just one spell, which would likely be much cruder than a spell cast with a wand. In the time a wizard with a wand could learn twenty spells, one without a wand would struggle to learn even one at the most basic level."

At that remark, many in the classroom glanced at 'Harry Potter.' They all knew he could cast a couple of spells without a wand with ease. Soon, one student raised his hand to ask a question.

The ghostly professor paused in his lecture, his milky gaze drifting over to where Anthony Goldstein had raised his hand. The young Ravenclaw shifted in his seat, looking slightly abashed at having interrupted.

"Yes, Mr...?" Binns prompted in that dry, dusty rasp.

"Goldstein, sir," Anthony supplied quickly. "I was just wondering..." He waved his hand towards Lucas before pressing on. "If wandless magic is so difficult and imprecise, how is it that Harry Potter, who is our age, can do it?"

A low murmur spread through the classroom at the question. Heads swiveled to look at Lucas, eyes wide with curiosity. Beside him, Justin shot his friend a sidelong glance, brows raised.

Lucas simply met the stares levelly with an expression of polite attentiveness.

Professor Binns regarded Anthony for a long moment, as if weighing how best to address the query. At last, the ghostly professor gave a slow nod.

"Yes… Mr. Twinkle," he said. "You are quite correct that the ability to cast magic without the aid of a wand is...highly uncommon, to say the least."

"Throughout history, there have been only a rare few who have demonstrated such a affinity for wandless magic," Binns went on. "The ancient records speak of mystics and shamans capable of conjuring the elements with but a thought and a gesture. Though their magic was often crude and unfocused by today's standards."

"In more recent times, tales of wandless feats have become even rarer," he continued in that dry, dusty rasp. "The wand has become an integral part of modern spellcasting, a conduit through which a witch or wizard can channel their magic with precision and control."

The ghostly professor lifted one wispy hand, gesturing vaguely towards Lucas.

"That a student so young as Mr...Barter here has displayed such an innate talent is, indeed, quite extraordinary," Binns went on. "Though the history tomes offer few insights into how one might cultivate such an ability."

"In any case," Binns pressed on. "While wandless magic was not unheard of in ancient times, it was the development of the wand that truly ushered in the modern era of witchcraft and wizardry."

He drifted closer to the blackboard, pale form shimmering faintly in the dusty air.

"The first wands were little more than carved sticks or twisted branches plucked from sacred trees," the ghostly professor intoned. "Imbued with mystical properties by the druids and shamans who crafted them. Crude tools, to be sure, but ones that allowed witches and wizards to focus their magic like never before."

Binns lifted one ethereal hand, gesturing towards the paintings and books lining the classroom walls.

"Over the centuries, wandlore evolved into a highly refined art," he continued. "The great wandmakers experimented with different woods, cores, and crafting techniques to produce ever more powerful and specialized conduits."

"Each wand became as unique as the witch or wizard who wielded it," Binns said. "A living extension of their magic, shaped by their bloodlines and inherited talents. To master the wand was to master one's magic."

Hermione's hand shot up once more. Binns regarded her for a moment before giving a slight nod.

"Yes, Miss...Caprine, was it?" he prompted.

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, but she pressed on undeterred. "I was just wondering, Professor - if a wand is so important to controlling one's magic, and wandless magic was so difficult, how did wizards and witches manage before they were invented? Surely they didn't simply go without using magic at all?"

A faint smile seemed to tug at the corners of Binns' insubstantial mouth.

"A good question, young lady," he said with a slow nod of approval. "Indeed, magic has existed since long before the advent of wands. Our ancestors found other means of channeling and focusing their abilities."

"In ancient Egypt, the priestly caste would carve intricate hieroglyphs and symbols into stone tablets," Binns explained. "Imbuing them with powerful enchantments through weeks of ritual chanting and precise geometric patterns. These 'Word-Spells,' as they were known, allowed the Egyptians to work mighty feats of magic - from conjuring ravenous swarms of locusts to parting the very waters of the Nile itself."

A few students shuddered at the thought, no doubt imagining vast clouds of biting insects or raging walls of water crashing down upon them. 

Binns paid their discomfort no mind, simply pressing on in that same dry, dusty rasp.

"In the wild forests of the Germanic tribes, druids would carve sacred runes into the trunks of ancient oaks," he continued. "Magically-infused symbols of immense power that allowed them to call upon the primal forces of nature itself."

The ghostly professor drifted a few inches to the left, gesturing vaguely with one wispy hand.

"By tracing these runes and chanting the proper incantations, the druids could summon roaring winds to scatter their enemies. Or conjure lightning to blast apart the thickest castle walls."

A few students exchanged awed looks at that, no doubt imagining such raw, elemental power unleashed.

"Of course, such magics were wild and unpredictable by today's standards," Binns went on, his tone taking on a slightly dismissive edge. "Crude expressions of magic at best, wielded by shamans and mystics who understood little of the true art."

Professor Binns continued to lecture in that dry, dusty rasp, seemingly oblivious to the glazed expressions and drooping eyelids of his students as the class period wore on. He waxed poetic about the evolution of magic from its primal, unrefined roots to the sophisticated system of wands and incantations used by modern witches and wizards.

"...and so we arrive at last in our present era," Binns concluded. "An age of unparalleled knowledge and understanding of the mystic arts. Where the very fundamentals of magic have been meticulously catalogued and preserved for future generations to study and expand upon."

The ghostly professor paused then. A few students jolted upright, blinking owlishly as if just realizing the lecture had ended.

"We stand upon the shoulders of giants, my young pupils," Binns intoned solemnly. "The great wizards and witches who came before us, unlocking the secrets of magic through tireless scholarship and dedication. It is our sacred duty to honor their legacy by continuing that noble pursuit of understanding."

With those final words seeming to hang in the dusty air, the ghostly professor gave a small nod of his head and simply...drifted back through the blackboard from whence he came. A few startled gasps echoed through the chamber as Binns vanished from sight, but Lucas simply shook his head with a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Beside them, Hermione was gathering her notes into a neat stack with her brow furrowed slightly. "I can't believe he just ended the lecture like that," she muttered, sounding somewhat put out. "I had so many other questions about the different historical theories on magic."

Lucas chuckled, rising from his seat with a languid stretch. The rainbow serpent suddenly dispersing as he no longer bothered maintaining its conjured form.

"Don't worry, Hermione," he said easily. "I have a feeling we're going to get plenty more opportunities to ask Professor Binns about magical history. For now, though..." He gestured towards the door where students were already spilling out into the corridor. "We have some time for ourselves until dinner."

With that, Lucas slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the exit.

History of Magic… he pondered silently. The lesson was hardly as boring as I had expected. The way Binns spoke was indeed very dry and slow, so I can understand not liking that, but the content itself was fine and most of it wasn't in the books, so it was pretty interesting to learn. The way Harry Potter complained about it in the canon timeline, I had expected to listen to Goblin Rebellions from day one. Anyway, tonight it will be time to go and leave the castle to find some roosters…