Description:
Magic is all around us - in everything. The United States doesn't believe in the separation of magic into Dark and Light Arts. Magic is not inherently light or dark. A dark wizard may use magic for evil but the magic isn't evil. The wizard is evil. The magic is just that - magic.
Black Magic is a legend, a Native American wive's tale. Black magic does not nor did it ever exist. But as more and more unexplained sightings continue to pile up, whispers of Black Magic find themselves within the walls of Ilvermorny sending Thatcher Grace, a first year at the world renowned school, and his friends on a perilous journey to find out the truth before it's too late.
Follow Thatcher and his friends from their first to their seventh year as they navigate their school years all the while fighting a growing threat outside of the very halls of Ivermorny... and possibly within.
Rating Subject to change as themes get darker and my characters get older, (sooner than you think). This isn't Hogwarts. We're in America now.
FORWARD:
This story revolves around Thatcher's house, but not all main characters will be in that house. I will be incorporating more of the other houses than in the original Harry Potter stories. (Example: For sports there are JV and Varsity teams - Varsity are single house, JV teams are full of students in two houses on one team - Wampus and Horned Serpent; Thunderbird and Pukwudgie). I recognize that since I have started this story before all of the Ilvermorny facts and North American history is out that my story my stray from canon.
I also will be incorporating more Native American history to the story, in addition to characters from all different cultures and identities. I will try to be as inclusive as I can. But be aware: although I will try to keep everything in Native history as straight as I can, I will alter small history and mythos to better fit my story (remember: this story does take place in a world where there are WIZARDS and ACTUAL MAGIC). This is a work of fiction that is adapted from JK Rowling's work, Native folklore and my own imagination. Also, I will try to help you understand and keep apart different tribes, languages, dialects etc. I make mistakes - if I mess anything help feel free to respectfully point it out.
I plan on writing 7 "books" for 7 years in school. This first chapter is mostly to give us information on the houses. I stitched together parts of ideas that were sent to me so keep in mind they are not all my original ideas. Lots of inspiration from outside sources were involved in the making of this story.
Feel free to send me Ilvermorny head canons you'd like to see! Or if you're interested in Beta'ing send me a PM :)
So, without further ado - I present to you:
Thatcher Grace and the Roar of the Wampus
Chapter One: An Introduction to Our Hero and the Houses of Ilvermorny
The sprinklers in the front yard of the Grace Estate are automatic. They come up from the ground at 7 o'clock sharp every other night to water the family's short cropped grass. The lines caused by the lawn mower are perfectly straight, showcasing the attention to detail and organized minds of those within. The only trees are those that encompass the property and separate the home from the paved streets. They were planted to give a sense of privacy from the other lake homes and summer cabins surrounding them.
The sprinklers in the backyard of the Grace Estate are manual.
And for the life of him, Thatcher Grace cannot figure out why. If you have automatic sprinklers in the front yard you should also have them installed in the backyard. It just makes sense.
The front yard of the Minnesota estate is rather expansive. It's full of lush, green grass that Thatcher spent most of his life playing football on with his dad, his college buddies and their kids. The backyard is large in its own right but is cut short by the private lake that the Graces share with three other families year round and seven other families who stay in their cabins over the summer months - totaling to ten residents on the lake. The backyard is bare, minus a trampoline, a small bonfire pit and a dock that harbors a pontoon.
Thatcher only has to move the two manual sprinklers they have in the backyard twice each to get the whole yard. The work just seems tedious in a world with automatic sprinklers. And, of course, magic.
"When I was a kid, I had to turn on the sprinkler every night and turn it off at just the right time or your grandmother would lose it," Mr. Grace muses over his brown bottle of beer as he, Thatcher and Mrs. Grace soak up the last of the day's sun on the deck. He points the bottle in Thatcher and his wife's direction before taking a swig. "And I didn't have magic to do it, either."
Jim Grace is a tall man with leftover college football muscles in his arms and a beer belly on the rise - not totally there but surely on its way if he stops working out. His bright blue eyes and light blonde hair make him appear more youthful - the lightness of his hair does well in hiding the touch of gray he's sporting. Thatcher is the spitting image of his father, with similar bright blonde hair and clear, blue eyes to match.
Although she has gray eyes that could be mistaken for blue in some lights, Karen Grace's light blonde hair is the work of her stylist. Mrs. Grace complains that her son inherited nothing from her but her magic, to which her husband responds with a wink: "he's a cocky, competitive, goody two shoes, just like you."
Thatcher rolls his eyes and makes his way down the stairs to start the sprinklers in the backyard. There was no way he is going to sit through his parent's banter. Gross.
Once he gets down to the deck, he does a quick glance around to make sure his parents aren't watching. With a deep breath he stares at the knob attached to the side of the house, willing it to turn.
It doesn't move. Thatcher clenches his jaw and reaches his hand forward, fingers stretched wide, imitating characters he's seen on TV. Slowly the knob turns and the sprinklers start. With a grin Thatcher skips back up the wooden stairs and onto the deck.
By the time he gets up the steps his parents have retired to the house. He sits on the railing, his legs dangling over the edge, and he watches the sun set over the lake.
He's already told of his school friends that his parents are transferring him to a boarding school this year. He knows he is going to miss his friends but the prospect of learning magic is too good to be true.
After his parents discovered he inherited magic, his mother introduced him to a couple of her magical friends. The Moore family came over from Oklahoma last year for Mrs. Grace's birthday. They have two sons, Ben, a second year in the Thunderbird house, and Daniel, a first year in the Pukwudgie house.
Thunderbird and Pukwudgie, Mrs. Grace explains before the two boys come over, are two of four Ilvermorny houses. When you arrive at Ilvermorny you are sorted into one of four houses, each representing something else: Thunderbird, the soul, Wampus, the body, Pukwudgie, the heart, and Horned Serpent, the mind.
His mother refuses to explain anything else to him or tell him her house, in hopes he doesn't create a bias for one house over the other, but Ben and Daniel are more than happy to oblige when they come over.
Ben, the older sibling, is very proud of his house. "Thunderbird," he boasts, "is easily the funnest house. Best house, I'd reckon. We favor adventurers, you know," he grins. Thatcher doesn't know, but he doesn't point it out. He still hasn't had much exposure to the wizarding world and doesn't want them to know just how uneducated he is. He listens adamantly, willing himself to remember everything to boys say to him.
"Thunderbird isn't the funnest house," Daniel frowns. "Pukwudgie is fun, too. They're all fun."
Ben had finds this utterly hilarious and bursts into laughter. "That is such a Pukwudgie thing to say."
From what Thatcher remembers from that talk, Thunderbird is full of loud, boisterous rule-breakers always ready for an adventure. Pukwudgie is a more tame, "follow your heart," supportive bunch. Ben had dismissed Horner Serpent and Wampus.
"Horned Serpent," Ben starts, "is full of kids who think they're smarter than you, and Wampus is full of wannabe warriors just looking for a fight."
After the Moore family left, Thatcher had begged his mother to tell him more about Ilvermorny, but she kept insisting she didn't want to ruin his experience and left it at that.
The next morning, Thatcher is seated at the kitchen island while his father finishes doing the dishes. The interior of the home is just as pristine and presentable as it is on the outside. No clutter on the counter tops, all shoes lined along the wall next to the door, and throw blankets folded neatly after each use on the white couches. Thatcher's father, a part-time real estate agent, invites clients into the home and ensures the house is always in top shape.
Thatcher is shoveling waffles into his mouth when Mrs. Grace lets the screen door shut behind her, mail in hand. "Finally," his mother laughs, opening a letter addressed to The Parents of Thatcher Grace. "Jim!" Karen calls, "we have Thatcher's supply list from Ilvermorny!"
"So, he's not a squid?" Thatcher's father jokes as he finishes drying his hands and folds the towel over the handle on the stove.
"A squib, honey," his mother says.
"Same thing." He waves his hand before he stands behind his son and places both on his shoulders, giving him a good squeeze. "You know, you could still go to my old school and play Hockey-"
"And be surrounded by No-Maj?" Karen laughs, "under no circumstances. Our boy is going to my old school."
"We don't want his head to get big with that Wizarding superiority, Kare." Jim says lightly. "Next thing you're going to tell me is that you don't like our neighbors." He teases.
"Oh no, I love them," she says, walking over and pecking her husband on the cheek, "but I would also love to be able to charm my dishes to wash themselves while they're over."
Jim sighs, there's no use in arguing with his wife. Thatcher was always destined to go to a magic school. Unfortunately for Jim, having a hockey playing son just wasn't in the cards. Thatcher vows to play the popular wizarding sport, Quodpot. Although he has never seen it played, his mother has mentioned it from time to time. He knows it takes place on a broom and the prospect of flying only makes him more excited to excel in it. He would be lying if he said that he hasn't thought about playing sports - Quodpot or Hockey. He has spent a lot of his time trying to train for Quodpot - a difficult task due to his lack of knowledge about the sport. His father was the best in No-Maj sports, he would be the best in wizarding sports.
He spends much of his time grilling his mother on the sport, only to have her give him limited details - to not ruin the surprise. He's beginning to become irritated with that line of thinking. How can he prepare for a new sport - or this new world he is to live in - if she doesn't tell him anything?
"You and your mother can go shopping tomorrow," Jim says.
"You're not coming?" Thatcher frowns and turns to face his dad.
"Work, champ." Jim starts the dishwasher. "Plus, I'd stick out like a Christmas Tree on the Fourth of July at your Wizard shopping mall." He laughs at his own joke and grabs the letter from Ilvermorny and looks over it before handing it off to Thatcher with a shake of his head. "I still can't believe there is a whole wizarding mall right under the Mall of America. That place is big enough as it is."
Mrs. Grace grabs Thatcher's finished plate and places it in the sink. With her wand she charms the dishes to do themselves. "We can take the Floo if you'd like."
Thatcher nods his head vigorously. "Oh yes, please, please, please!" He exclaims. He was afraid his mom would make them drive. Hardly an effective mode of transportation, even though they only live a few hours drive from the Mall of America. His mom takes the Floo to her work in New York everyday. He knows she works for MACUSA - the wizard government - but he isn't sure of the details. And he isn't sure about any details because his mom never tells him anything, he thinks bitterly for what seems like the millionth time that day.
But that's all going to change soon. Soon he will be thrown head first into a world he knows almost nothing about, but if he is good at anything, it's adapting quickly.
He's also good at stealing old textbooks from his mom's office. That night, Thatcher waits for his parent's to fall asleep. Once the coast is clear, he slips his mother's old textbook out from under his bed and flips his bedside light on. Ilvermorny: Tried and True, the title reads in bold white letters, indented into the black leather. Underneath in gold, looping script it states: The Story of Isolt Sayre. He turns to the first page.
Ilvermorny was founded in 1627, 637 years after Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With humble beginnings, the school was originally a stone cottage constructed by Irish immigrant Isolt Sayre, and her No-Maj husband James Steward. It began with only two teachers and two students.
Thatcher skips ahead, skimming through the history portion of the book. Where are the parts about the four houses? Ben and Daniel's explanations barely covered a small portion of what Thatcher is sure he needs to know before he goes to school this September. A small voice tells him he shouldn't skip ahead but his curiosity gets the best of him. His mother is most tight-lipped about the houses.
He finally lands on a page that has what he wants. ILVERMORNY'S CORE FOUR, underneath it a short description of the houses and then a header that Thatcher is barely able to read as Thunderbird before the page from the book jumps out at him. Literally.
A bird soars out of the bindings causing Thatcher to drop the book onto his bed and scramble backwards, pushing himself against his headboard, knocking it into the wall. The golden bird shoots up to the ceiling and circles the room, filling his room with light. Its body is encased with lightning that trails behind it and each flap of its wings brings a clap of thunder.
A light in the hallway turns on and Thatcher reaches for the book to slam it shut. As he does, the bird takes a nosedive and disappears back into the bindings. Thatcher flips the TV on at the foot of his bed and throws the book under the sheets.
"Thatch? What's going on?" His dad flips the light on. "Were you watching TV?"
Thatcher nods, "yeah, sorry, Dad, it's just - I wanted to watch," he glances at the colorful horses galloping across the screen of his TV, "... My Little Pony."
His dad raises an eyebrow but doesn't make any comment, much to Thatcher's relief. "Alright, well just keep it down alright?"
Thatcher nods, "I'll just turn it off, I'm kind of tired."
"Big day tomorrow, champ," his dad flicks the light in Thatcher's room off, "you don't want to be too tired for it. Good night."
"Good night, dad!"
The second the door shuts, Thatcher rips back the covers and stares at the book. "I don't know how you did that," he says to the book. He won't be able to read the book tonight, not if it's going to be so loud. The wind blows through his window and he grins.
With the book safely tucked in his old school backpack along with a flashlight, he pops the screen out of his window. It falls onto the slanted roof and slides down onto the landing below with a crash. This may be harder than he thought.
He waits for a few moments, staring wide-eyed at the crack underneath his door but the light remains off. As quietly as he can, he slips out of his window and shimmies himself away from the edge of the roof, not wanting to suffer the same fate as his screen. He's going to have to get that later. He crawls along the roof until he is sitting at the furthest point from his parent's room.
Eagerly, Thatcher rips open his backpack and takes out his prize. He skims through the pages before the Thunderbird bursts out of the book again with a loud crack. This time the gold bird swoops low and hovers in front of Thatcher. To his amazement, not two but four wings flap in tandem in front of him. Lowering itself, that bird lands on the corner of the book.
Thatcher reaches up to pet it, but the bird only nips and him and motions down to the page.
Thatcher decides this bird isn't to be messed with and follows its directions and begins to read.
The Thunderbird house was named after the intelligent, but temperamental adopted young son of Isolt and James, Chadwick Boot. Chadwick was the first born in a very prominent family. He wrote many books and travelled many miles. The Thunderbird is a magnificent creature that can sense danger and create storms as it flies.
The Thunderbird house is the soul of Ilvermorny and favors the adventurer. Ambitious and aggressive, but righteous and accomplished. The grand concept of the soul is Change. The Thunderbird wants change for its internal world. It wishes to be free in its thoughts and it's desires, regardless of the outside world. The thunderbird seeks betterment for itself in subjective ways. It does not want to win, it wants to be happy.
Thatcher took another look at the bird perched on spine of his book. As it cleans its feathers, he admires it's sun like pattern. The bird notices it's being watched and chirps as a sort of demand at Thatcher, encouraging him to keep reading. Temperamental for sure, he thinks.
The Thunderbird is resilient against outside influence and is powerful against impossible odds. Those who find themselves a home in this house are determined to find joy in all they do. In the face of everyone telling them "no", they plant their feet and scream "yes" in response. They deeply connect to those who share its beliefs, and will stick to these long lived friendships through any situation.
Their forceful confidence gives the Thunderbird a tendency to hurl themselves into happiness and freedom, acting however they might please. This gives them a forceful and individualistic charisma, but makes them enemies as they can come off as a bull in a china shop. The Thunderbird is less likely to plan ahead as its counterparts in the other houses. It has its eventual goals in mind, but it trusts in its ability to improvise with all the cunning and determination it possesses once it comes into contact with an actual impediment.
This house will be as curious as they come, but it's deep held beliefs as a Thunderbird will lead it to dismiss more information than its more trusting and open minded peers. Those housed into the Thunderbird are those who value personal methods and gain through what they experience. The Thunderbird represents the soul, not just for thrill seekers, but for every fiber of humanity that lurks within us.
With a turn of the page, the Thunderbird dives back into the pages and before Thatcher can morn the loss, a large black cat - no, panther - pounces out of the pages and flashes large fangs at Thatcher. Once deciding Thatcher is not a threat, it lays itself in the edges of the book that the Thunderbird once rested on. He counts six muscular legs on the beast. Thatcher stares in amazement before he pulls his eyes back to the book.
From the younger Boot boy, Webster, came the Wampus house. Webster feared that a house titled "Webster Boot" would never be chosen to win, exemplifying his competitive spirit. The fierce young boy shared much in common with the magical panther like creature. Impossibly fast, ferociously strong, and nearly impossible to kill, the Wampus is a clear winner. The Wampus house is said to be the body of Ilvermorny and favors the Warriors.
The Wampus values pragmatism. They want real world results. They want things that can assist these results. And they will take real, immediate action to achieve these results. The Wampus is oriented towards events, the exterior world, and action and it searches for advantage in everything. Searches for ways to win. The Wampus revels in the competition, in winning, and the real world. It values proof, logic and action.
They see the real world problems with constantly sticking to their morals and emotions, and will be willing to change their decisions and adapt to whatever will yield the greatest benefit. This house is extremely action oriented, often becoming restless when there is no danger for them to face or situation to mend. Those who find their home in Wampus will be the most competitive of all, eager to jump on any casual opportunity to show others what they can do. They possess a glory seeking nature combined with an innate drive to win. The Wampus will look for logical and analytical reasons why it did or did not win, and thus will often seem changeable, as it is reviewing new data and analyzing while it is taking action. It's looking at the same time as it's leaping.
Strong willed with malleable beliefs and goals, active with a sharp mind to consider all options while acting, and intellectual but fierce. This house deals in cleverness more than any other type of intellect. It prefers wit and strategy in its thoughts. The Wampus is self critical and keenly aware of its own strengths and weaknesses, but it will conceal its weaknesses behind a thick veil of intellect and pride.
The Wampus is a warrior and a team player. Those in this house may manifest as a person who is a strong and charismatic community leader. They will drive groups of people forward highly effectively with an infectious optimism and tireless determination. All those who find themselves in this house are hard working with great amounts of grit. They will fight tirelessly to achieve fairness and justice in any place they can.
Because the Wampus' interaction with the world is based around fighting and winning, it feels that it must achieve its goals at all costs. This house is highly adaptable within the margins of its goals, as it sees many ways it can get what it wants, and has no issue buckling down to what work is necessary. They are so constantly ambitious and secure in their desire that they feel comfortable dropping their seriousness whenever it appeals to them. At the same time, the Wampus sees no point in becoming too preoccupied with the negative aspects of the here and now, and has a tendency to "wait out" annoyances, emotional problems, or pain.
They're the law, following duty and command with steadfast brashness. That doesn't necessarily mean heroics. They're even and smart. Go against them and they'll take you out without hesitation, because they can. Because they're strong in physical strength or emotional combat. Chaos that values order.
Thatcher can't help but find the part about the beast not becoming preoccupied with negative circumstances - like being awoken from a nap - very fitting, even without extensive knowledge on the creature before him. The Wampus lounging on his book certainly is waiting out the annoyance of being awoken from its slumber. As he lifts the corner of the page the panther stretches and disappears into the lines of the paper.
The next page opens with hiss as a horned snake slithers out and wraps itself around Thatcher's wrist. It's long tongue tickles his fingers. It's scales simmer a beautiful green color that, when caught in the light, flashes a magenta hue.
The Horned Serpent is the house after Isolt's own heart. She shared a strong bond with a Horned Serpent of a nearby lake, hidden deep in the surrounding forest. The Horned Serpent is the mind of Ilvermorny, as Isolt was, and favors the scholars.
There mind is based in theories. The world aligns with their system of thought. Why is the world this way? What if it isn't? The Horned Serpent considers anything and everything. They scrutinize and analyze. They make the world fit their mind and are oriented toward the internal world.
The Horned Serpent is a fierce but cautious creature by nature. They have strong held ideas that they reenforce with a powerful will and as much mental energy as they can muster. However, they are acutely aware of the consequences to their actions, and will act in a more refined way, only breaking rules or taking direct action when they see it as good to do so. They will not, however, hesitate to challenge any idea put forward, examining it from both moral and logical standpoints. They have a highly tuned moral framework that builds itself on sequences of logic in order to determine what is right. This house prefers to take what is established knowledge so that they can act in the moment and will not have to shift their belief system, which is dependent on information. The Horned Serpent will project themselves as the most prominent mind in the room.
The Horned Serpent focuses on many ideas, narrowing down those that are illogical and discardable. Their intelligence propels them in everything they do, shaping their values, shifting their actions. What the Horned Serpent does will always be to the benefit of knowledge and its own understanding. They will seek the analysis and dissection of the entire world, magnifying every notion as far as it reasonably can. The Horned Serpent balances a scale in their own mind. On one hand, they enjoy the pure information of chaos, but on the other, the rationality of their personalities want stability.
The wish for personal understanding is held dearly by the Horned Serpent. While they are receptive to the many ideas of the world, they prefers their own. They will be strongly oriented towards order, categories, and rules. This inclination to favoring their own ideas makes the Horned Serpent stubborn minded until failure. At the point of failure, they simply follow another theory. Their ambition drive them forward toward a goal or a principle to understand, while studying and searching for the best way to achieve such an end.
The jewel on the crown of the serpent's head glints in the soft light. It nods once to Thatcher before retreating back into the confines of the book, allowing Thatcher to move onto the final house.
Pukwudgies are what they are. The house after James, they are the heart of Ilvermorny and favor the healers. Those housed in Pukwudgie value restoration and improvement in everything around them. They are the engineers of livelihood, the freethinkers, the optimistic. They want to be themselves in all respects, extroverting themselves on the outer world. They are in tune with their own emotions and will follow their gut instincts and feelings wherever they might lead. They have a strong emotional attachments. Pukwudgies are social to a fault. They are the ones who repair things that are broken and alleviate the vexation that weighs against others.
By the time Thatcher has read the first paragraph a short and stout creature ambles over to his lap and sits down. It has long gray hair and a large set of ears. Upon closer inspection, Thatcher makes out a large nose.
The Pukwudgie grunts up at Thatcher, "it is rude to stare. You are here to learn, let us read."
"You, you can talk?" Thatcher gapes at the little man sitting in his lap.
"You will learn nothing if you don't read on." His long fingers wrapped around a wooden stick and he tapped on to the book impatiently.
Thatcher nods mutely and returned his attention to the page, stealing glances at the small creature as he went. Not exactly a social creature, he supposed this one was just cranky.
The Pukwudgie is devoted to its friends and family. It will make sure they are happy and healthy above all else, and will define their lives by those they care about. They are more focused on themselves as individuals than initially suspected by their peers. The Pukwudgie prefer to stay within the circle of those that they love and rarely stray from it. This doesn't make the Pukwudgie selfish. Their affinity for healing, physical or otherwise, make it more selfless and able to dismiss their own emotions easier than most because of their acute awareness of the impact it has on others.
The social nature of Pukwudgie combined with their want to heal, make their want for individuality strained to their own wants and the wants of their friends. They prefer not to look at the big picture, and instead focus on small situations where they can apply themselves with vigor and individuality. They are an emotional houses and those who find their home here are outspoken and willing to stick to their emotional decisions to the bitter end.
Pukwudgie is adventurous in their own right and see the world externally, without becoming preoccupied with the structure of the world or what they can and cannot do. They seek to fully enjoy life, pursuing new knowledge and experiences without very much of an end goal. Those in this house seek to enjoy their life above all else, and will likely have a drive to see the world, try new and exciting things, and will not have patience for those who drag them down to a more boring world.
Pukwudgies are naturals at making connections and thrive in the social world. Their ambition is driven from emotional need, and will often be less ambitious than the dreams. They will want to succeed in a social or emotional way, more intangible than the power and wealth. They are highly external people, loving the company and positivity of social gatherings and becoming highly adept at navigating such settings.
They're light and caregivers, heart and healing. But they can be begrudging in their loyalty, bitter or tricksters. As such, their intelligence should not be overlooked. There can be a manipulative or self serving element that is combated by their softness and sense of fun and charm. It makes them good at dealing with people. They can be caregivers or teachers. They're tolerant and patient even when they hate it.
The Pukwudgie represents the heart, not just for loyal helpers, but for the will of striving for the life that holds our heartbeat.
Thatcher finds his eyelids drooping part way through the reading and once he reached the end he wasn't sure he could continue.
The creature in his lap gave one of his hands a small shake. "You've done enough reading for one night, friend." He seemed to be in a much better mood, Thatcher notes as he climbs back onto the page. "Get some rest and maybe I will see you soon," he says before dissolving into air.
Thatcher closes the book gently and places it back into his backpack. He makes his way to his window and climbs back in, slower this time and his feet drag with sleep.
He drops his backpack next to his bed and climbs under the covers. He has so much more to read but for tonight, he can't keep his eyes open any longer. Before he can remind himself to grab his screen on the porch outside tomorrow before his parents find it he is fast asleep.
Next... Thatcher goes to the Wizarding Mall and finds himself a new friend, an unlikely ally, and an unexpected enemy.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are gold so tell me what you liked, what you hated, and what I can change. I promise we'll actually be going somewhere next chapter! This chapter was a hell of a lot of exposition - I just needed to lay the groundwork. Remember Thatcher is young here, I can't have him getting into too much trouble... yet ;) Let me know what you think!
natalie