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History of a blood feud: from the Diricawl History of Wizarding Britain - Wemyss's Appalling Hobby:
From the Party Guilty of Committing 'Gate of Ivory, Gate of Horn'
History of a blood feud: from the Diricawl History of Wizarding Britain


From the Diricawl History of Wizarding Britain, vol. 194, Et ego in Arcadia: professionalism, order, and challenge, 2009 - 2010:


The political situation in the Restoration Moot and its successors, like the War itself, reflected an ancient fault line.  To understand that shadow of a half-forgotten past, we cannot do better than to consider these passages from the 1932 edition – subsequently suppressed – of the original Diricawl History of Wizarding England, the series that inspired the current Diricawl History of Wizarding Britain.


In the twelve months that followed the disaster at Hastings, Henry de Ferrers was well-rewarded by the Bastard of Normandy.  Amongst the lands and manors he received were those in Berks and Wilts that had belonged to King Harold’s High Sheriff of Buckinghamshire and Berkshire, slain with his good lord on Hastings field: the Sheriff Godric, of Fyfield.


Three hundred years later, Robert, Lord Ferrers, married Joan Beaufort, daughter of John of Gaunt by Mistress Swynford, who upon her second marriage after Lord Ferrer’s death become Countess of Westmorland, wife to Ralph Neville the earl of Westmorland, mother of ‘Proud Cis’ the duchess of York and grandmother thus of Edward 4th and Richard 3d – and of Warwick, the Kingmaker, and of Stafford, father in turn to the ‘the most untrue creature living’, Henry, second duke of Buckingham.


This does not begin to hint at the tale.


Henri de Ferrières was the son of Wakelin de Ferrières and grandson of Engerrard de Ferrières, seigneurs of Ferrières-Ste-Hilaire, in the vale of the Eure of Haut-Normandie.  When the future Henry Ferrers – as the name came to be Englished – descended upon England as part of William’s rapacious crew, there came with the sons of Ferrières their lesser adherents, Curzons, Baskervilles, and Levetts.  Yet there also arrived, after the sack of England, another Norman from the Eure, who held in Hampshire of Hugh de Montfort: Matthew de Poteria, of Pottrey Court, lord of the manor of Over Wallop, scion of the de Poterias of La Poterie-Mathieu.  Now, La Poterie-Mathieu was held by the family of de Livet, the Levetts, undertenants of the lords de Ferrières; yet Matthew Potter took the manor of Guoluph, where Ambrosius had clashed with Vortigern, and held it of the Seigneur de Montfort-sur-Risle, constable of England under William, and father of one child by his first wife: the Montfort heiress Alix, who was given in marriage to Gilbert of Gaunt and of whom sprung the earls of Lincoln and the mighty Percy line.


The grandson of Henry Ferrers, the second Robert, earl of Derby, took in marriage Margaret Peverel, daughter of William Peverel the Younger and his first wife, Oddona; William the Younger’s second wife being Avice of Lancaster.  Of William Peverel, Boy William, we know what common fame reports, that William Puerellus or Puerulus stood in a relation as close as it was dishonourable to the Norman conqueror.


So it began: the dark history of the Gaunts and Peverells and the proud and shining tale of their great rivals.


So indeed did it begin.  And in a better time, and with the light shed by later and more accurate scholarship, it can now be told in full.


The plain fact of the matter is, Much of the history of Wizarding Britain is the history of struggle between two great affinities, representing two modes of thought, and represented by two prominent family groupings.


Domesday Book tells us that, of the manors of Over Wallop, Hants, one had been held allodially – without a feudal superior, ‘holding title directly of God’ – before the Conquest by one Godric, answerable only to King Edward the Confessor.  Pottrey or Pottrie Court, nearby, took its name from a Norman – or Normanised – holder after the Conquest, of the not-at-all Norman name and house of ‘de Pot(t)eria’.  These things are no accident.


Godric the Sheriff, like Godric the Thegn who was a benefactor of the New Minster, Winchester, was one of many Godrics in Saxon England.  But the High Sheriff of Berks and Bucks, Godric of Fifield, was the namesake and nephew or great-nephew of Godric ‘the Dux’, that ‘faithful minister’ of Æthelred the Ill-Counselled, ‘the Unready’, to whom the king gave ten hides of land at Little Haseley, Oxon, in 1002 (Charter: Sawyer 902, Kemble 1296, British Academy: Kelly, Abingdon No. 131): that same Godric who had managed the king’s second marriage, to Emma of Normandy, and whom the French-speakers of the day had called the Gryphon of Gold: in short, Godric Gryffindor.  With the example of Godric le Gryphon d’Or before us, it is likewise no surprise that such West Country kindreds as the Potters and the de la Piles (whose ramified kinships flourished from Devon and Somerset through Wilts to Berks and Hants, where centuries later they held land in the Wallops that had once been held by Mathieu de Poteria and by Godric the Sheriff before him) should have established branches in Haut-Normandie near the Eure and Évreux in the Pays d’Auge, from La Poterie-Mathieu to La Pyle: ties between Saxon England and Normandy long antedated the foolish pro-Normanism of Edward the Confessor.  Fifield, Ewelme, and Wallingford were part and portion of the Sheriff Godric’s Gryffindor inheritance, as were the Wallop manors and lands in Wilts and Glos, and the seizure of the Sheriff’s lands by Henry Ferrers after the Conquest was no accident.


For Godric Gryffindor was of no mean birth, nor was he merely a Saxon thegn.  The roots of the conflict go back much further than that.


With the final breakdown of sub-Roman authority in Britain, Cerdic – Caradoc, Caratacos, Caractacus – was one of the Romano-British officers who saw his only possibility of survival in taking the Saxon federates of his command and using them to establish a ‘Saxon’ kingdom in a land being overrun with Saxons and their petty kings-cum-raiders.  He and his successors – Cunorix, Colin, and Col, and the increasingly Saxonised House of Wessex thereafter – gave rise to a numerous progeny, in which Godric Gryffindor and the Wrights as much as the Diggory family have their place.  But this also was not the beginning of the story.


Ab urbe condita, the year of the founding of the City of Rome: here is the measure of time.  592 AUC, 162 BCE: Judas Maccabeus is locked in a death-struggle with the Seleucids.  In Rome herself, Caius Marcius Figulus – ‘Figulus’ means ‘potter’ – becomes consul for the first time.  Six years later, 598 AUC, 156 BCE, he will become consul for a second time: an honour given to few in a Republic jealous of any one man’s overweening power.  Yet there are already figuli, potters, in Britain, an island still half-shrouded in myth to the Muggle Romans, and Wizards possess means of transport that are streets ahead of any Muggle technology.  Of course there are potters, and Potters, however the language of the day and place may call them: they are the first of Wizards, the eldest craft and mystery, masters of earth and water and air and fire, on whom crafts and arts magical depend.  Another Caius Marcius Figulus will become consul in the Republic’s dying days, in 64 BCE, ad urbe condita 690, the year in which the Seleucids are finally destroyed, Pontus falls to Pompey and Mithridates ‘dies old’, and P. Servilius Rullus, as Cæsar’s cat’s-paw, proposes agricultural reforms designed to fail – and, by failing, to drive Cicero and the senatorial Optimates into an irretrievably false position.  And already, Britain is beginning to emerge from the mists of the Roman mind: Caius Julius, for one, is already attentive to Britannia’s possibilities….


Artifex, figulus: to Wizards, these masters of the first craft and magic were not men to be disregarded.  Even the Muggles have retained a sense of awe for the figure of the Smith, particularly in Celtic cultures, recognising instinctively that the man who holds to himself the mystery of making sword and armour is the man who rules the very kings who rely upon armour and sword.  Wizards have always known that the Smith’s forge and his metalwork were sprung of the kiln and the kilning, and British Wizardry has always recognised that the cauldrons that so haunted the bardic British imagination were but copies of the Potter’s first vessels.


When the Eagles of Rome first stooped upon Britain, the native Wizards, as much as the Muggles, fell into rival camps.  There were outright quislings; there were diehards of the resistance who would stick at nothing in the fight, including the Dark Arts; and there were patriots who resisted as long as they could do, but who refused to resort to the Dark Arts even at the cost of honourable defeat.  These last included Potters and Smiths, Masons and Grangers, and many other of the great names of British Wizard-dom.  Their eventual acceptance of the new disposition was eased by the fact, evident to Wizards and incomprehensible to Muggles, that these families were of European and indeed more than European range: the Nigidii Figuli and the Marcii Figuli were not wholly foreign to the Crockers, Cro(a)kers, and Potters of Britain.  Publius Nigidius Figulus, Cicero’s friend, whom St Jerome called ‘Pythagoricus et magus’, was a distant kinsman of every Wizarding crochenydd in Britain; as was Vergil’s father (Suetonius, writing for Muggles and tipping a wink to Wizards: ‘Publius Vergilius Maro, a native of Mantua … his father according to some was a potter, although the general opinion is that he was at first the apprentice of a certain Magus….’); and as had been the aforementioned Caius Marcius Figulus, twice consul.


The story goes back at least that far.


Wizards have always known what Muggles are coming to realise, that the population of Britain has always been very much mixed – especially within the Wizarding population, to whom geographical barriers and distance were as naught.  The Crocker-Potter extended kindred were never particularly insular; indeed, Old Crockern of Dartmoor, the first of the family to take hold of later memories, was not, by all accounts, of wholly human blood, and may yet in some sense live. 


It is hardly surprising, then, that in the years of Roman and sub-Roman rule, those who would later be known as the Potters and Crockers (Crokers, Croakers) should have intermarried with the best of the Romans in Britain and other magical members of the Romano-British ascendancy of the Claudian foundation.  Amongst these were the Ambrosii, represented in Britain by Ambrosius Aurelianus. 


The elder Aurelius Ambrosius Aurelianus was beloved of the people for his wisdom and moderation; a gentleman of Amesbury, his British wife’s ancestral villa, and she a Potter; Senator, vir consularius, consular governor of Maxima Cæsariensis, descended of consuls and senators, kinsman and protégé of St Ambrose of Milan, a Roman British officer to whom Duty was the stern daughter of his orthodox Christian God.  He was not the Last of the Romans: those would be his sons, Ambrosius Aurelianus and Emrys Myrddin, called Merlin, a cousin’s Romano-British child whom he adopted in the Roman tradition: but he was the last regularly appointed Roman official in Britannia, refusing to leave although the Eagles had flown, preserving in the face of Vitalinian and conciliar opposition the ancient virtues of the Senate and People and of Roman Britain, Catholic and free.


The story begins no later than this.


When at last the Romanised Britons fell in the unequal struggle with the Saxon hordes, the native Wizards, as much as the Muggles, fell into rival camps.  There were outright quislings; there were diehards of the resistance who would stick at nothing in the fight, including the Dark Arts; and there were patriots who resisted as long as they could do, but who refused to resort to the Dark Arts even at the cost of honourable defeat.  These last included Potters and Smiths, Masons and Grangers, and many other of the great names of British Wizard-dom.  The Saxon Wizards did not merely assimilate the British Wizards: they recognised their superior wisdom and civilisation, and sat at their feet to learn of them, much as Great Alfred afterwards revered the Classical and Roman roots of his Church and culture.  No small number of the great men of Anglo-Saxon England, from bishops and sages to the kings of Cerdic’s line, the House of Wessex, could count in their Wizarding descent the first British Wizards and their Romano-British and Roman descendants and connexions.  Godric the Dux, Gryffindor, was one of these: the man who as Æthelred’s minister restored the coinage and created the sworn jury of presentment, reforged diplomatic ties with Normandy and reformed the shire systems and the shrievalty, and then wisely vanished to secure in a distant land the future of English Wizardry.


It was none too soon.  The House of Cerdic was soon to fail and fall in a welter of blood, at Battle; and its scion, Godric, had taken the measure of the Normans and their Norse fathers: in Normandy, in Orkney, Caithness, and Sutherland – and Hogsmeade was set precariously in lands debatable between the Norse, the Gael, and the Kinrick of Scots – and those already filtering into England.


The Norse and the Normans had in turn taken the measure of Godric, a Potter connexion and a cadet of the House of Wessex.  Hogwarts and Hogsmeade were secured by his presence and that of his fellow Founders whom he had recruited; and after the Conquest, the lands he had retained to himself, like the Potter lands and unlike those granted to the Sheriff Godric and some others of his kin, were – to Muggles inexplicably – undisturbed by William and his men, and healthily respected. 


But who were these Normans?  For the tale goes back to their beginnings and beyond.


Halfdan the Old of Gór was a petty king in the North.  His prowess in battle gained him fame, land, and power; but it was his indulgence in the Dark Arts that gained him the world he knew – and cost him his soul.  At the midwinter feast this pagan king, emulating another Halfdan, Ivar Hálfdan Gamli, made many sacrifices, and ones terrible enough that he, like his namesake, attempted, on the back of them, to create a Horcrux, or perhaps more than one.  In this he failed; but he succeeded, if one can call it success, in introducing a taint of Dark Magic into his line.  He fathered Jarl Ívar of the Uplands; that earl’s son in turn was Eystein the Clatterer (Eysteinn Glumra) who was father of Jarl Rögnvald of Møre, who became for a time earl of Orkney. Rögnvald’s son, Hrólf, also called Ganger-Hrólf (‘Rolf the walker’), is better known to history as Rollo, or Robert after his ostensible and purely political baptism: count of Rouen in Neustria, and after many profitable betrayals, the first duke of what came to be called after his Norsemen, ‘Normandy’. 


Even the best of them were a murderous, sorcerous lot, darkly inclined: William Longsword earned assassination several times over, and left no legitimate sons; his son and successor Richard 1st – the Fearless – no more feared God than he did man, and was aptly the first formally to be styled ‘duke’ of Normandy.  He schemed, poisoned, pirated, allied and then betrayed, whored, and seduced his way to power, and, like John of Gaunt, only married his mistress late to legitimise his foul brood; his son the second Richard was called ‘the Good’ only as measured against the Norman standard.  His son, Richard 3d, left no record of crimes only because he was poisoned shortly after his accession by Robert the Devil, his brother and successor.  Robert the Devil was, of course, the father of William the Bastard, the Conqueror.


And the Norsemen who came with them seize Rouen and Neustria were no better: Vikings, pirates, oath-breakers, men who had been so wicked that they were actually thrown out of the Norse lands and even Orkney.  Rodulf of Ivry, Osbern and fitzOsbern; the younger Osbern fitzOsbern, the Confessor’s chaplain and confessor who passed the political secrets of England, including those of the confessional, to the Normans;, the Tosnys, the Lavals: these were the measure of the Normans.


The tale reaches back to Halfdan, and beyond.


When the ravening fury of the Normans overbore the English, the native Wizards, as much as the Muggles, fell into rival camps.  There were outright quislings; there were diehards of the resistance who would stick at nothing in the fight, including the Dark Arts; and there were patriots who resisted as long as they could do, but who refused to resort to the Dark Arts even at the cost of honourable defeat.  These last included Potters and Smiths, Masons and Grangers, and many other of the great names of British Wizard-dom. 


It had been William’s intention to take over England as a going concern.  To recruit his force, he had instead been forced to promise plunder.  To quell resistance, he had been forced to dispossess the recalcitrant and hand great estates to barons who were only too likely to erect petty principalities upon that base.  Yet there were those whose interests he dared not disturb and whose homage he knew better than to demand: Godric, the Potters either side the Channel, Godric’s thegns and kinsmen at Weasel Lea….  The Witenagemot, that proto-parliament, was no more, a Norman curia regis in its stead and many generations to pass before the people in parliament would again be heard; but the Wizengamot persisted, and the Norman kings and the Angevins after, and all monarchs until the Restoration after Riddle’s Great Rebellion, learnt swiftly to leave it strictly alone.  And why not?  The kings were kings because they were Wizards, until the line failed into Squibs with the accession of William and Mary, upon which the secrecy regime took hold; the Wizengamot was their prop and support in their unseen realm.


William Peverel came seemingly from nowhere to stand as ‘early as 1068 in charge of the newly-built Castle of Nottingham, and at the time of the compilation of Domesday the lord of one hundred and sixty-two manors in England, and possessing in Nottingham alone forty-eight merchants’ or traders’ houses, thirteen knights’ houses, and eight bondsmen’s cottages, besides ten acres of land granted to him by the King to make an orchard, and the churches of St. Mary, St. Peter, and St. Nicholas, all three of which we find he gave with their land, tithe, and appurtenances by his charter to the Priory of Lenton’, as Somerset Herald wrote in 1874.


This William Peverel seems at first glance to have been filius nullius, filius terræ, a bastard of obscurity: his very surname, or what passed for one in those days, is nothing more than ‘Puerulus’ corrupted: ‘the boy, William’: yet he – half-Norman and half-Saxon – rises rapidly and high upon the Conquest.  The explanation is simple enough: like Thomas of Bayeux, the Conqueror’s new and Norman archbishop of York, he is, as the contemporary charters put it, Regis filius, the son of William of Normandy, now king in England. 


Yet there is more to the explanation than this, for there is his mother’s family to consider as well, the Saxons – or at least the English, if only by long residence.  Eighty years before William Peverel was conceived when duke William of Normandy visited the Confessor in London, an East Anglian Wizard, a Fenlands Wizard, had left England, never to return, bound for what was not yet fully Scotland – and for his destiny.  The Peverels who sprung of William Peverel, first of that name, dispersed, to Northants, to Salop, to the Marches and to East Anglia and to the West Country, yet the family had a long relationship with what was not yet the County of Lancaster, the nascent Lancashire, beginning with this first Peverel’s marriage to the daughter and heiress of Roger of Poitou, sometimes styled earl of Lancaster: the same earldom, by then raised to a dukedom, that would be acquired by John of Gaunt in right of his wife.  Yet they were all of the getting of Maud Ingelrica and William the bastard; and there can be little doubt that in the getting of William the Boy, Peverel, William of Normandy mingled his blood with that of Salazar Slytherin, and that the Peverell-Gaunt connexion, with its obsessions of blood and power, was thus born.


Clifford Castle had been granted, but nine years after the Conquest, to Ralph de Tosny, an Anglo-Norman magnate and companion of the Conqueror.  The House of Tosny was French in origin, and had made its mark and fortunes by its collaboration with the Normans and betrayal of France.  Into Ralph’s hands was committed not only the castle and its lands, but, in after years, the service of a young slip of the Conqueror’s stock, one of the Peverel lads.  Ralph possessed many lands and holdings, and the king’s confidence, but his most cherished possession was his daughter, who bore the name of Godehilde, and who married in due course Baldwin of Boulogne, the younger brother of the great Godfrey de Bouillon.  Godehilde and some of her suite travelled with Godfrey and Baldwin even unto the battles of the First Crusade, where she died before her husband ever rose to become the first Crusader king of Jerusalem.  Her knight and mage, the young Peverell, survived, having served with great distinction under Godfrey and Baldwin at the Siege of Antioch and of the fortress of Qadmous in the campaign that led to the fall of the city of Tartus.  He married a Byzantine bride, a distant descendant of the Phocid emperor Michael Rangabe: Michael Rangabe a veteran of the war against Krum of Bulgaria, whose son Ignatius or Ignotus – christened Niketas, but denied the throne – was afterwards Patriarch of Constantinople. 


With the death of Baldwin, the three Peverell brothers, the two elder named for their father’s victories and the youngest for the eighth-century patriarch, returned to England from Outremer, in haste and with a mob pursuing, saved only by the assistance of the English corsair captain who had once rescued Baldwin: Godric of Finchale, the later saint and hermit of Durham and counsellor both to St Thomas Becket and Pope Alexander 3d.  Thus it was that the sons, at some removes, of a Peverell of Clifford Castle returned from the Crusader states: Antioch, Cadmus, and the youngest, Ignotus.  And although St Godric, like Godric of Mappestone who built Goodrich Castle in Herefordshire, was but one of many who was named for Godric the Golden Gryphon without sharing his blood, it is not without its significance that it was the future Hermit of Durham who saved the fleeing Three Brothers who would later acquire the Hallows.  It is certainly to the influence of this gallant captain, the future saint, that we may attribute the innocence and success of the youngest of the Three Brothers, who alone was the true master of Death, and who, rejecting his family’s Dark traditions, turned to the Light and married into the ancient lineage of the Ambrosii and Figuli, of Arthur and Myrddin and that later Merton – the supposed derivation of whose surname from Merton in Surrey is even yet a case study of brilliant success in Muggle-Worthy Excuses – whose Oxford foundation is Oxford’s link to Hogwarts and Domdaniel, of Godric and the House of Cerdic, and of Old Crockern himself: the Potters.


The tale has its roots in the most ancient soil.


Old Crockern’s descendants, the heirs of Britannia, Rome, and Wessex, always maintained their power in the West, reaching eventually to Chester and Carlisle in the North, and to the Home Counties in the east.  Squib branches and cadets particularly were placed in strategic positions in Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, and Worcestershire from the first, beginning the original Wizardly watch upon the Welsh Marches.  The cadet branch that took its name from its Hampshire holdings in the Wallops extended the family’s influence into Scotland, as the Wauchopes.  More senior lieutenants and kinsmen, such as the Arthurian Weasleys / Wellesleys, kept the peace and held the homelands against all comers.  Canny marital alliances with other ancient houses, such as the Longbottoms and the better element of the Blacks, further extended the Potters’s sway in the West Midlands and the Northwest.  In the time of Charles 1st, they provided a bishop of Carlisle, in that of George 2d, an archbishop of Canterbury; they were prolific of priests, prelates, and primates, of writers, painters in England and in the Low Countries, and musicians, all working to extend and moderate magical influence in the Muggle world. 


They had need to do: for the other great faction in Wizard-dom was never willing to concede defeat.  Even the Mortimers threw up from time to time evil Wizards, just as they also engendered the good kings of the House of York: and no wonder.  The ‘greatest traitor’, Roger Mortimer, earl of March, was the great-grandson of Isabel de Ferrers, herself half a de Tosny, and of Ralph de Mortimer, descended of Melusine, of Merfyn Frych the Freckled of Powys the long heir of Vortigern, of Lot and Anna Morgause.  John of Gaunt, in addition to siring the Beauforts of evil memory, had as his first bastard, before his first marriage, one Blanche, who was married off to Sir Thomas Morieux and whose son, unrevealed to the Muggles, took the surname Gaunt into the occult obscurity of the Wizarding world.  It was this John Gaunt de Morieux who once again united the Gaunts with the line of Gilbert, and the Houses of Senlis, FitzOsbern, Ferrers, de Tosny, and Peverel, of Halfdan and of the Vitalini, in the Wizarding world. 


Time and again, the Light families, heirs of the Roman Republic and the Britons of old, kin to Ambrosius and St Ambrose, to Arthur, Merlin, Cerdic, Alfred, and Godric, sons in many branches of Old Crockern, the first and eldest of magicians, strove to erect bulwarks against the tide of Darkness.  They brought St Grimwald to England, that holy Benedictine abbot and builder of churches who gave his name to a borough of Wizarding London, being to the Wizarding City what St Erkenwald is to the Muggle; their own ill-affected kinsmen made Grimmauld Place a place of loathing.  They created a government; the Dark corrupted it and turned it against the Crown and the Crown’s subjects.  They sought to protect Muggles from rapacious Wizards; the Dark Wizards created a secrecy regime and a doctrine of blood.  The heirs of the Good Peverell confronted the heirs of the wicked Peverells through the ages, re-enacting time and again the Light’s deadly quarrels with Gaunts and Hrolfingas, of Godric against Salazar.  And time and again, the snake was scotched but not slain.


The story is just so anciently rooted.  Politics are local, the saying goes, and certainly, in the first Moot after the Restoration settlement, the seats held by the Ditchers were few enough, and mostly due to local likes and dislikes of a personal nature rather than to a policy preference.  So also were the gains made by minor and localist parties. 

Constituencies and returns

Yet the system of affinities that governed the post-War Wizarding World

Magnate affinities

could withstand the slow forgetting of the danger and the victory, only by relying upon the hereditaries, the Lords Spiritual of the Moot, and the further constituencies of the Nordthing, the Standing Council of the Highland Chiefs, the Council of the Isles, the Three Estates, the Stewartry, the Council of the North, the Council of the Marches, the Five Boroughs, the Sept Ports, the Duchy of Cornwall, the Council of the Marches, the Tynwald of Mann, the Bailiwicks of Normandy and the Channel Isles, the Irish members and the Principality constituencies, the members for Hogwarts and Domdaniel, for the Royal Burgh of Hogsmeade, for St Mungo’s, the Guilds, and the Wizarding Corporation of the City of London. 

Further constituencies

These were and are the Constitution’s barriers against the Dark; and in them may be discerned even now the ancient fissures between
Wessex and the Danelaw, between Briton and Saxon, between Saxon and Norman, and amongst the nations of Great Britain.  It was not enough that a Harry Potter should forever be returned for Quantock and Brandon should he choose to stand, or an Andromeda Tonks be always able to hold the elected seat for the Five Boroughs were she to stand: long and bitter experience had taught British Wizard-dom that a wholly elected Moot was a luxury that only Muggles had sense enough successfully to maintain.  Pure democracy in the Wizarding World, a world composed of electors innocent of logic and sense – for Wizards between them haven’t the sense God gave a Muggle, as witness the pre-War ministries – was a project doomed from the beginning, and should remain so until a wiser magical population, tempered by an increasing number of Muggle-borns, should come of age.





2 comments or Leave a comment
tekalynn From: tekalynn Date: April 1st, 2009 06:50 am (UTC) (Link)
Oh, I love this!
wemyss From: wemyss Date: April 2nd, 2009 05:35 pm (UTC) (Link)

Thank you.

You're very kind.
2 comments or Leave a comment