Hello, this is me Nebuchad, this is my first story that I'm going to upload to , this story is just actually a description of an idea i had, and it will explain the wizarding city i made up and it's history, Including during the two wizarding wars and what would happen to if You-know-who won the war.
Without further adieu I present:
Navarre
Long, long ago there existed a people who sought only to prosper, thrive and remain free from the world, as opposed to their greedy, warmongering, conquest hungry neighbors. They were called the Visocnians, a very magical people who were one with their surroundings and in harmony with nature, they had a natural talent for elemental magic and the people were split into the four categories, Air, Water, Earth, and Fire the four elements each had people who were connected to that element by magical binding, and as such they could manipulate the element they were in harmony with, very few could bend all four, and they were the leaders of their people only a powerful druid (there form of wizard) could control all the elements.
The Visconians were a small people and they were a strong people, and they had picked a rather precarious place to live. There tribe had settled in the Pyrenees after having been forcefully cast out from Rome, Gaul, and Iberia each taking their toll on the Visconians, when they could finally move no more they found they had nothing left, the Romans had taken their gold, the Gauls had their weapons, and the Ibers had stolen their food. They had nothing, and could not live in the land to where they were forced, The cold jagged Pyrenees which grew into the sky as if to mock the clouds, was a barren, rocky, wasteland with nothing for the Visconians, and so with all their might the starving, tired, and poor people wept, and wept, they wept for all they had lost as with nothing to support them they would surely die.
It was there weeping which would save their people the tears they cried were mirrored by their gods who wept with them, there tears so pure and powerful flooded the land and gave it new life, grass, trees, flowers, plants, animals all came to them and the Visconians rejoiced building up upon what they had though barren they thrived there numbers although small were happy, and strong.
The Visconians however had drawn the the ire and wrath of their neighbors the Franks and the Visigoths, who grew jealous of their happiness, and wealth. Seeing easy prey the much larger barbarians pounced on there small neighbor with the vicious intent on the blood of their people whom they sought to destroy.
Knowing they had little time, the Visconians prepared for death, they prepared for the blood of their martyrs to water their fields and flood there rivers, they prepared for the sacrifice of the angles, they prepared for death after a long fight. Death however would not come as the armies of the Franks and Visigoths approached Navarre, the only pass through the Pyrenees that was traversable. There the soldiers of the Visconians stood ready to die standing upon the rocks, watching both come closer to the chasm from either end they knew death fast approached them, knowing no cowardice the Visconians stood to face their doom raised spears, shields, and swords ready for battle.
Next morning both genocidal armies arrived and death would come swift. Spears clashed, swords clattered, shields cracked and the souls of men drown in constant blood war. The Visconians held their ground while being charged by both armies and while bloody battle ensued, in the sky above the peak of the mountain of Navarre a cross appeared seeming behind it to have wings of an angel the cross shone to the caves of Navarre and in the chaos of battle the Franks and goths knew not the Visconians had slipped themselves into the caves going past the great river and climbing through the caves onto the massive, raised, flat plateau across from Mt. Navarre and adorning the other side of the pass. They watched above from the height of the plateau both the Goths and the Franks attack each other each thinking the other were the Visconians. In the midst of the chaotic battle between the goths and the franks Visconia got her revenge. Fire poured from the mountain of the south and burnt alive all who retreated, the waters of the great river ran red with the blood of those who dared to flee north, the earth itself shook while rocks hurled down on those below, and wind blew away any soul trying to reach the gates of paradise. At the end of the battle no Frank or Goth was left living, and in thanks to the God of the Jews the Visconians converted to christianity and taking it as a sign they would settle themselves forever on the plateau overlooking the chasm/pass where the souls of those who died in the battle still haunt today. Upon this plateau the Visconians would build their city naming it Navarre, and eventually the land of there people who were not to be magical became known as Basque and eventually in time the Basques would forget about their magical brethren and would forget of the magical city of Navarre, where all the wizards of Basque live today behind it's massive protective walls lies the biggest solely wizarding city in the world, in probably the most defensible, and sustainable place known to the wizards of the world.
Hey, I hoped you liked the first part, this is just the ancient background of the city written like it is an ancient legend (that's why it's so old sounding and chopped) I will be getting into the more modern history of the city in the next few chapters and it will then be tied into the story i'm currently writing about it in the harry potter fandom (note that the city is entirely my own idea and the only thing I own is the idea of the city and not harry potter or anything our marvelous JK Rowling has written and allowed us to base many a story off of) Be sure that this is a fanfiction of the series I just had to introduce the background in this chapter. Other than that please read and review and if there is anything I can improve upon please let me know, constructive criticism always helps :)