Adventures of the Golden State (Hetalia)
Author: Ashynarr
Summary: Under much protest and complaint, I've decided that since I have nowhere else to put these, I'm going to share some of my state OC drabbles to see how people like them. Mostly focused on California, but will feature other states.
Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.
Warning: State OCs, Harry Potter-esque AU
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Even before anyone enters the lecture hall, there's rumors abounding about the upcoming lecture on identity magics. She's pretty, some say - too pretty. A veela, perhaps, or descended from sirens. Others claim that even the headmistress deferred to her once, though no one really believes it - the old women wouldn't bow to the president of the AWC, much less some obscure researcher.
None of the rumors, however, prepare them for the young women scrawling notes by hand across the chalkboard. She's short, with bushy hair that flies everywhere, and dressed in muggle fashion. Several muggleborns whisper loudly about the suit - expensive, well fitting, coordinated with the jewelry and what makeup they catch as the lecturer turns to examine her work.
When she first turns to face them is when the first belief in those rumors really comes to bear - though she's merely pretty in the way many women of lucky genes are, she has a presence about her that makes all the students, even the most lackluster, sit up in their seats to listen. There's no magic in it, of course - one or two under the table wand waves confirmed it - but the way she moves and stands and looks at them all conveys a feeling of complete control.
"My name is Isabel García Gomez," She starts, gaze sliding across the crowd. "To you, this might not mean much, but it is a name I chose for myself, one that aligns more with my self-identity than almost any other name I've ever borne. Most of you live with the names given to you from birth, as much a part of your identities as mine is to me, which a few have more than likely thought of, if not outright shared your own preferred names.
"Identity is not just a name, though - it is the summation of all the parts of yourself that are true, the core of every spell or ritual that digs beneath flesh and bone and bears open your very soul to the universe for a brief instant. Identity is solid as rock, and as malleable as soil. All of you can name moments that have changed you, and all of you can name the parts of yourself that have never changed since you first came into this world. Not in words, perhaps, but in the things you hold tight to in your heart, the things so ingrained that even the idea of change is inconceivable.
"Wands are an example of identity magic - subtle, true, but powerful. Every wand chooses their witch or wizard, searches the soul of every child that lays finger on them, looking for that right mix of rock and soil for them to lay down roots. Your wand is a part of your identity, and I've been told by many that no wand is ever quite the same as your first."
Down near the front, one of the older students raises a hand, instantly drawing the gaze of most of the room. "Is that part of why certain woods and cores react to certain types of people better than others?"
The lecturer chuckles. "Yes and no. While people more invested than I in the creation and study of wands all swear on the central meanings of each kind of wood or core, I've found that the types of materials in and of themselves don't actually say much. After all, if it was just, say, a bundle of redwood and serpent spines, anyone with a similar attunement could pick it up and use it freely.
"This is where identity comes in - you've heard a wandmaker say that no two beasts or woods are the same? It's completely true. No two serpents or thunderbirds or firebirds or gowrow live the same life, and no two trees experience the same seasons. Those experiences linger in their bodies and spirits, and so into the materials that go into your wands. That is why you and a thousand others can have the same kind of wand while never being able to use each other's."
"What about your wand, then?" the same student asked. "What does it mean?"
"Don't have one," She replies with a smile and a shrug.
The class is dead silent, and then all at once in an uproar, a thousand questions echoing, but the loudest of all obvious - why is someone with no magic giving a lecture on the magic of identity.
"Shut up," She tells them, and they do.
"Sit down," She commands, and they do.
"I don't need magic to have power, and I don't need magic to understand how identity shapes reality. You know my name, but you don't know me, and so you don't know why I have the power I do." Her gaze doesn't move even as she stares into every one of their souls, or so it feels.
A hand, tentatively, raises to the right. "My dad works with you, I think."
"Oh?" She asks, looking to the first year girl, glare fading away. "What's his name?"
"Jacob Williams."
The lecturer nods. "Yes, I've met him a few times. He say anything in particular about me?"
"Only that he always feels better after you've come by and talked to everyone."
Her glare softens into a smile. "I do try to cheer people up while at work. Anything else?"
"Uhm, that you work directly for the governor, I think?"
And here she snorts. "More like beat him over the head sometimes, but also true. At least he's better than some of congress. But she brings up the other part of my point - the mutable identity. I currently work for the nonmagical government. Obviously, I have not always worked for it, and also obviously, I will not always work for it, but it is currently part of my identity, and so something I and others can associate with me. Age, relationships, religion, sexuality, gender - all of these things are prone to change, in some more strongly than others, but they still define you and who you are.
"In fact, I've found that almost every part of your identity is to some degree mutable asides from two - the first being your dogmas. The faiths that your culture instills in you from before you're even born, the things ingrained so deep that you maintain them like a reflex on an even deeper level than religion. Russian pessimism, Asian family centrism, southern island honor - and, of course, American rejectionism."
A third hand raises. "What's rejectionism?"
"It's the idea that we must reject all dogmas."
"But didn't you just say that we have a dogma?"
"Yup." She laughs. "It's counter-intuitive, but it's true - how many of you would think to tell your neighbor how they should eat, or dress, or sit, or practice their religion?"
It's easy to see the shifting of bodies in discomfort at the idea, as well as a few students looking around, their eyes widening as they start to realize what she's saying.
"It's more obvious in populated places, especially in cities like San Francisco or New York, but you can find it almost anywhere in the US or Canada if you look. It's a survival tactic developed by people around the world coming together in search of opportunities and trying to get along in the meanwhile - your dogmas and identities are no better or worse than your neighbors, so why waste the time and energy trying to make them do things your way when you can instead work together to improve both your lives, and maybe discover something new and exciting in the process?
"Isn't that, after all, what these intercultural schools are about?"
Many of the students look to each other, but very few speak - they'd known they were 'losing out' by not going to the more prestigious and focused schools, but she made the last statement sound as a matter of pride.
"The traditional schools have the advantages of history and practice, true," She continues easily. "There's no doubt that they produce many powerful wizards and witches. But all of them, without a doubt, go in and come out convinced that their tradition is the best tradition, and probably only use other culture's techniques sparingly, if at all.
"You, on the other hand, will never suffer this. What your spellwork will lack in power and history it will more than make up for in ingenuity and breadth. Many of you have already learned spells from several cultures, either from friends or from teachers - and in learning them you have firmly rejected the idea that any one kind of magic is inherently superior to any other.
"Certainly, you can all claim that transfiguration or potions or charms or runes are the best, or that your families' magics flow better than your neighbor's spells, and you might even believe that firmly, but if someone else made a competing claim on a different subject or a different culture, you would not kill them for the slight, or spit on their name. At worst, you'd probably argue, and at best, you'd probably discover a way to put them together to make them both ever better than they could be alone.
"And that's why, ten, twenty, thirty years from now, it won't be the traditionalists who stand prestigious, but the new schools, the ones that embraced the California culture of diversity, the American dogma of tolerance, and said that all magics are equal."
She pauses, looks around the room to see who's still listening, as if anyone would be ignoring her. "Any questions?"
A hand raises, the same girl who asked the first question of the lecture. "You said that there were two things that were immutable - what's the second?"
The lecturer smiles. "Isn't it obvious? The second identity is your homeland."
Even years after the infamous lecture, no one can agree whether she really was who she said she was, or even if she was human. No one can find proof that an Isabel worked or had ever worked for the government, and no one could say where she lived.
Everyone does agree, however, that if you let your gaze wander, you might just catch sight of her in the corner of your eye, a mischievous smile on her face.
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AN: So this might be one of the dumbest things I've ever written, but my friend and I got to discussing the American Wizarding tumblr and how it feels a bit more focused on the southern part of the country, and then it led to my own thoughts on California's magical society, and then somehow this happened.
To be fair, I do like the blog overall, and refer to it for overall ideas, but... seven schools? For the entire US? C'mon, you've gotta have more than that, especially considering all those tiny local schools that would definitely crop up everywhere where parents without the money to send them to one of the prestigious boarding schools can send them for classes.
And for me, that's what California is – you've got the larger, traditional institutions of various cultures in out of the way places, some of which are boarding schools and some of which aren't. And you've got the inner-city schools, the ones parents of all cultures without the money or presence or interest to get their kids into the larger schools send their kids, which parallel the non-magical public school system.
Each does has its advantages, in the end. Shrugs. Maybe I'll come up with more Wizarding California headcanons eventually.