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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 10 days

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Archives of The Cabal - The Secret Origin of "R"

@ladyofsappho You asked me for this months ago, and you're finally getting an answer. @missnight0wl if you're interested I would also be honored to hear your thoughts. @dat-silvers-girl I just tag you in everything I write by now.

I am not caught up on Beyond, and this will deviate from canon in general, but I have tried to combine my original ideas and head-canons with the established lore about The Cabal. Either way, this is my version of R's story, and it's gonna be a long one, my friend. Buckle up.

The story you're about to hear is heavily redacted. People have fought and died and lost themselves and done unspeakable things to contain the secrets written here. Records are, to put it lightly, hard to find. For that is the nature of R.

To properly explain who they are, what they want, and where they come from…one must take a walk through history. Because R is old. Very old. Centuries old. It was primarily the brainchild of two men, but what truly birthed The Cabal was the social and political situation of the magical world at the time the group was formed. Because it is and has always been intrinsically linked to the passing of the Statute of Secrecy. Without that bit of legislation, there simply is no Cabal. Furthermore, The Cabal has always had a vested interest in the Wizarding schools. So we’ll need to talk about the days before The Statute. Before witches and wizards went underground. Back when the magical schools were still in grave danger.

It started...with the school of magic known as Ruqyah.

Before the persecution from the muggles became a larger problem, the wizarding world experienced a period of prosperity that it would never see again. An era that magical historians would later describe as the “Golden Years” that are estimated to have begun at around the point Hogwarts was constructed at the turn of the millennium. During this time, magical education peaked. The wizarding schools in the world numbered thirty-two, with many advanced institutions rising. Their knowledge and power only grew as they reached out to one another and did collaborations, maintaining strong relationships across the globe. Traditions like the Triwizard Tournament sprung up during this time. At the height of enlightenment was the school known as Ruqyah in Egypt. Built into one of the Pyramids, Ruqyah was a haven of higher learning, famous across the world for producing the best Healers, Beastkeepers, and Magical Researchers.

Though the school no longer exists in the present day, there was a time when every young Mage knew Ruqyah, and its unmistakable sigil - the Eye of Horus. Students from all over the world were permitted, even encouraged, to visit the school and participate in the education it offered. Whether it was for a week, a year, or even if they decided to enroll full time. Ruqyah pursued all sorts of goals, seeking knowledge and power. Theirs was the path to enlightenment and immortality - or so it was claimed. But only the truly bold, only those who had lived in the Pyramid for years ever dared to explore the Tombs of Ruqyah, which were said to be cursed. Supposedly inhabited by a malevolent spirit, who was only to be cowed by the presence of students and staff. It was said that they kept this being at bay by perpetuating the study of such pure magic. To many, these were just rumors, though Ruqyah Alums treated these stories with respect and many believed them in earnest. This was yet another reason such pride was taken in the education of the students. In the days of the Golden Years, Ruqyah was truly considered top class.

But The Golden Years were never to last.

Though tension between the mages and the non-magical community had always been an issue, the problem only grew worse during the fifteenth century. The muggles were still licking their wounds after the terrible phenomenon known as The Black Death, which had suspiciously killed very few wizards, the overwhelming majority of its victims being non-magical. A story began to spread, the idea that wizardkind had created the Plague themselves and purposefully unleashed it onto the world. Whether or not there is any truth to this...difficult to say. The Black Death occurred centuries ago and any record of magical involvement, if indeed there was any, has long since been erased. During this time, Witch Hunting was becoming a very popular profession for a variety of reasons, (many of them religiously motivated) and Muggles soon began rallying together to form organized strikes at wizardkind. The conflict escalated beyond the Ministries’ control as witches and wizards who bore prejudice of their own took the opportunity to fight back.

The conflict raged across the world like wildfire, with no end in sight for three hundred years. A period that became known as The Witch Hunter Wars. Ministries passed new laws, and magical schools shifted the focus of their curriculum's. Some began to prioritize subterfuge…others favored combat. Regrettably, wizarding culture became steeped in hatred and mistrust of the muggles. Even Ruqyah, beloved among wizardkind for the scholars it had produced…it too changed direction and began to train a generation of Dark Wizards who specialized in Curse-Breaking. Who learned the most unseemly of secrets, venturing further into the Tombs of Ruqyah than anyone had ever dared go. Some were even said to have met the demon at the heart of the Pyramid.

But it was not enough. The magical community had always been dwarfed by their muggle counterparts. Through sheer numbers alone, the muggles always maintained the upper-hand, doing more and more damage as time went on. The war had destroyed any goodwill the magicals might have felt toward the muggles, and any witch or wizard associating with them was distrusted on principle. Common ground was no longer possible. Coexistence was no longer possible. By the end of the seventeenth century, several Wizarding Ministries had fallen, and over half of the known Wizarding Schools had been eradicated. Eventually, Ruqyah would join them. In 1679, the ancient and beloved school was stormed and destroyed by Witch Hunters. The following ten years, which later became known as “The Decade Without Hope” preempted a “Final Summit” of the International Confederation of Wizards, who had decided at last that enough was enough.

The Decade Without Hope

The Decade without Hope was…a dark time. The vast majority of the magical community believed that extinction loomed on the horizon. That the muggles would not stop until they were gone. Anguish and frustration gave over to hatred. Many young mages committed suicide. Others entered heavily populated muggle villages and sacrificed themselves by casting explosive curses. The future, if there was to be one at all, seemed bleak. The remaining witches and wizards turned on one another, looting and killing became common. Dark Wizards went unpunished, because who was left to punish them? What remained of the wizarding government had their hands full with the Witch Hunter Wars, with preparing the plans for the Final Summit. But these plans were to be interrupted by two dark wizards. Their names were Henri Jean Alerie…and Dai Ryusaki.

During the days before most of the Wizarding Schools were lost, it was relatively common for a student to spend more years in school, to attend more than one academy and graduate with honors from all of them. Ryusaki was a Mahoutokoro Alum, and Alerie had attended Beauxbatons, but both had also been educated together at Ruqyah. They were two of the last students to graduate before the school was destroyed. Alerie and Ryusaki, who had become close friends, traveled the world together after their graduation to seek their fortune. The teachings of Ruqyah were long since corrupted, and these two old friends worked together as partners in crime. In doing so, they frequently communicated by letter, but to avoid detection should their letters fall into the wrong hands, they never added signatures. It had been a longstanding tradition at Ruqyah for the Headmaster, often known as “The Ruqyah” to sign his letters with the Eye of Horus symbol, which closely resembled the letter “R.” A technique that Alerie and Ryusaki appropriated for themselves as a code known only to them.

Ryusaki's Gambit

After The Witch Hunter Wars, and the fall of several Ministries, there were many precious, dangerous magical artifacts in need of relocation. Due to the adaptive nature of magic, which is itself a living force, Dai Ryusaki and Henri Jean Alerie both knew that the remaining schools of magic would be safer than any Ministry. They were as of yet undiscovered by the muggles and seemingly small enough to fly under the radar. The only remaining school the Witch Hunters were aware of was Hogwarts, yet they seemed reluctant to strike the British school, possibly due to rumors that it was guarded by a terrible monster left behind by one of the Founders.

Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries, as well as their contemporaries in other nations, had already concluded that any dwelling inhabited by multiple witches and wizards for several generations would eventually develop its own independent magical energy, and, in a sense, become a living thing. In the case of wizarding schools, the youthful magic of the students was even stronger, and more changeable. It was the very best chance. Ryusaki knew what needed to be done. He called upon the services of several people whom he trusted. They had graduated from the various remaining schools of magic and eventually rose to lead them, but before that, they had been part of the final classes to study at Ruqyah and were originally Curse-Breakers by trade. Over the years, Ryusaki had maintained correspondence with all of them.

He reached out to Inacio Campos, of Castelobruxo, Zuri Adesina of Ugadou, Sigrid Jorgensen of Durmstrang, Tatiana Morozov of Koldovstoretz, and Hamish Fawley of Hogwarts. There was some reluctance once his colleagues discovered his past misdeeds, but Ryusaki convinced them that his plan was in the best interests of wizardkind, that he was merely trying to repent. Henri Jean Alerie was only too happy to represent Beauxbatons in this endeavor, as Ryusaki represented Mahoutokoro. In time, the two men secured themselves as Headmasters of their respective schools. The only representatives who were not in attendance were Morozov and Fawley. Morozov was disgusted by Ryusaki’s crimes and refused to join the alliance, and with her, the Russian school withdrew from the plan. Fawley expressed agreement with the plan, but was unwilling to play any part in it. Hamish Fawley was gravely ill, afflicted with a mysterious curse from the time he was born. As a result, not only did he have limited time and energy, but he wanted nothing to do with Cursed Artifacts or Curses as a whole. Privately, Alerie maintained correspondence with Fawley, offering his sympathies.

The other representatives went along with this plan, deciding to trust Ryusaki, as he seemed honest…though many of them did not fully trust Alerie. Which was ironic, as he played a crucial part of the plan. It was he who staged the near destruction of the Lebanese Ministry of Magic, where the International Confederation of Wizards had sent them for safekeeping. Using the Imperius Curse to gain access to the heart of the Lebanese Ministry, so the new alliance could steal the Artifacts. Thereafter, Ryusaki waited until the building was empty to cast a terrible fire, a Dark Spell, to make it seem as though the Witch Hunters had struck again, and the artifacts destroyed in the fire. In truth, each of them took possession of one and pledged to guard it indefinitely. To do so, they used their schools. Infused with emergent magical energy that was fueled by generations of children, this alliance truly believed there was nowhere safer. They had all studied at Ruqyah at one point or another. They all knew of the Tombs, those that guarded unspeakable Dark Arts and a nameless Demon.

Within the schools of the Alliance, secret chambers were constructed to house the artifacts, similar to the Tombs. The enchantments and curses placed on these ”Vaults” did not remain stagnant. Left alone, they grew like ivy, evolving and growing in strength over the years. Until, or so they hoped and planned, these secret Cursed Vaults and the treasures they guarded would be forgotten and lost to time. Plotting a strike on a Wizarding Ministry and the theft of the most dangerous artifacts in the world is no small feat. It took the better part of two years to plan, and during this time, the Alliance would communicate with each other using the secrecy they had learned from Ryusaki and Alerie. Signing all of their letters with nothing but the Eye of Horus, represented on the parchment as the letter “R” In time, this group came to refer to itself as Ruqyah, or simply “R” as a coded version - taking the name of the fallen school in an effort to honor the ideals and traditions that were lost. They began wearing red cloaks for subterfuge, echoing the school uniform of the ancient pyramid. Ryusaki could not partake, for he had "turned white" as they say in Mahoutokoro, long ago. His robes would always reflect his sin.

After the Artifacts were hidden, the members of this new faction did not see each other for many years, only communicating through further messages likewise written in code. They had pledged to protect the world from the most powerful and unstable kinds of magic. They knew what kind of danger the Artifacts might have posed if they had fallen into the wrong hands - magical or mundane. Yet during this time, Ryusaki had begun to see the world anew, as he poured himself deeper into magical philosophy. The Mahoutokoro Headmaster had never been wholly evil, and through his efforts with R, he had undergone a change of heart. Feeling remorse for his crimes and resolving to change his ways. Ryusaki dedicated his life to reforming, going so far as to reinvent the dark spells he had learned in Egypt to make them better. He even reinvented the dark spell he had used to destroy the Lebanese Ministry, turning it into the defensive curse known as Protego Diabolica. To the point of willingly turning himself over to the authorities for his various criminal acts - though he did not breathe a word of the artifacts, their locations, or the existence of R.

Alerie, however, went in a different direction.

With access to one of the deadly artifacts, he was free to study it during his spare time running Beauxbatons. During the Decade Without Hope, he continued studies into the most obscure and forbidden branches of magic. Crafting spells, objects, and potions of immense and terrible power. Drowning himself in the rarest and most dangerous enchantments. He went as far as to return to the ruins of Ruqyah and attempt to seek out the malevolent spirit hidden within the pyramid’s depths, thinking he could use its power for himself. But with the school long since abandoned, there was nothing and no one left to guard the entity, who had flourished in the time since Ruqyah’s fall. No one is quite certain what happened to Alerie in the heart of the pyramid. But he was never the same afterward. Some say he went mad, and perhaps he did. But the encounter changed him on a fundamental level. He returned to Beauxbatons wearing a strange amulet and and boasting of how his “third eye” had been opened.

The Crown of Mneme

The International Confederation of Wizards were not blind, they could see that Ryusaki was no longer a danger to the magical world and knew they could make good use of his brilliance - so they made him an offer - to be pardoned for all his past crimes and receive lifelong immunity for any future crimes. In return, they commissioned him to craft a powerful spell that would allow the caster to reshape the minds of others on a massive scale. They invited him to the Final Summit, which was to be held in the Kingdom of Bhutan, to use this magic in a special ceremony. Ryusaki flatly refused such a prospect, until The Confederation fully explained their reasoning.

During this time period, The Confederation was certainly not loved. Much of wizardkind believed that the horrid state of affairs was in no small part due to their inaction and poor decision making. Most did not believe that the Confederation would be able to save the wizarding community. But there were others. Clever mages of higher learning who understood the politics, who were near enough to the inner circle for the whispers and rumors to have leaked down to them. Long before the Statute of Secrecy was signed, many saw it coming. For it was becoming common practice more and more to live a double life, to hide one’s magic from any nearby muggles. Nevertheless, secrecy was paramount. The Witch Hunters could not be allowed to catch wind of this plan. The Final Summit was risky in general. To put all the most important members of the Confederation together, all in one room, was dangerous. Should the Witch Hunters discover that this meeting was to take place, should they strike during the Summit, they would wipe out the Confederation and with it, the last hope for wizardkind. Yet they took a chance and trusted Dai Ryusaki with knowledge of this plan.

After some consideration, he agreed to the Confederation’s offer. He set to work, using all of his magical knowledge and skill in the effort to make the Statute of Secrecy possible. Aided by his old friend Alerie, not realizing that Alerie had plans of his own. Yet as he worked, Ryusaki lamented the fate of wizardkind, doomed to hide away forever…until he had an epiphany. The answer came to him in a stroke of genius. A way to unite both worlds without conflict or bloodshed. Thoughtlessly, he shared his brainchild with Alerie via one of their many coded letters, who then joined him in celebration. In time, Ryusaki crafted the artifact known as The Crown of Mneme. With it, he and Alerie brewed a special potion designed to amplify the Crown’s power when the two were combined. The ingredients for this potion were a closely guarded secret, and the two old friends only ever wrote them down once, on an ancient scroll. These efforts bore fruit, and Ryusaki tested the Crown’s power by treating the trauma of his students at Mahoutokoro. However, attempting to heal the pains and trials of his friend Alerie revealed the horror within his soul, and Ryusaki recoiled. He attempted to excise this evil from his friend, but Alerie escaped.

Regrettably, this discovery sealed Ryusaki’s fate. Alerie could not allow any to learn the truth of what he had seen, of his heritage. The Demon who had hidden in the Tombs of Rugyah for so many years, who now ruled the pyramid in silence…was in truth, a magical creature known as an Ifrit. Precious little is known about them and in the seventeenth century wizards knew little and less. But such an entity is classified as a “non-being” similar to boggarts or dementors, and the Ifrit is highly dangerous. Rarely seen in the West, an Ifrit can live for millennia, and use that time to gradually corrupt the souls of mages around them, yet having no effect on muggles. Long ago, the founders of Ruqyah crossed swords with an Ifrit, bravely fighting the creature and trapping it in an ancient tomb. Building a pyramid around the demon to keep it sealed away, and the prison evolved through the years, becoming one of the most famous wizarding schools of all time. It was always the job of the Headmaster, “The Ruqyah,” to contain the Ifrit.

Alerie had met The Ifrit. The enchantments on the Pyramid prevented it from escaping altogether, but once the last Ruqyah had died, the Ifrit’s magic grew stronger. Before, Headmasters had wielded The Eye of Horus to “block” out the Ifrit’s third eye, which has sometimes been referred to as the “evil eye.” For the Ifrit’s third eye grants them powers such as legilimency, and worse. They can attack and devastate the minds of mortals. Alerie had an encounter with this non-being while it was near full power, and the course of his life became set in stone. For the Ifrit had revealed a shattering truth - many times in the past, it had taken human witches as lovers, one of whom was Alerie’s own mother. Henri Jean Alerie was only half human. The Amulet he wore had been created by the Ifrit some time ago, and it had been given to Alerie as inheritance. In years to come, his seemingly endless longevity and his fearsome talent with the Dark Arts could both be attributed to his heritage. Alerie had left the pyramid a different man, and when Ryusaki discovered the horrors hidden in his soul, he vowed to save his old friend. But Alerie had already decided that Ryusaki could not be allowed to live.

The Final Summit

Ten years after the Fall of Ruqyah, the Confederation met in secret for the Final Summit, in the Kingdom of Bhutan. To discuss their plans, and most importantly, to gauge how successful Ryusaki had been at the task they had given him. The group of mages met and conversed for many days to determine the future of their kind. During this time, when Ryusaki was called upon to present his invention, he instead proposed an alternative solution. He painted a picture for his fellow wizards, describing the utopia in his mind. A world where there was no difference between the magical and mundane. A peaceful, enlightened world where every child born would be blessed with magic. If the Crown could be used for this purpose, there would be no need for secrecy. No need for conflict - no real possibility of another war. The Confederation nervously laughed off such wild delusions and dismissed Ryusaki as a radical before demanding that he relinquish the Crown. When Ryusaki refused, things quickly devolved into chaos.

Ryusaki knew that he could not surrender the Crown, not until he had used it to save the world. The magical community would not hide themselves. They would join hands with their muggle brethren, and together they would expel the forces of evil - creatures like the Ifrit hiding in Ruqyah. The world needed to know about this danger, and that his old friend had already been corrupted by it. Determined to uphold the legacy of what Ruqyah had once been, Ryusaki, who was now on the run, called upon the services of R. A loyal man, Ryusaki expected the Headmasters of the remaining magical schools, the Guardians of the Artifacts, would come to his aid, as he would have done for them. But by then, it was too late.

Alerie had gotten to them first.

As a member of R, he had contacted the others and met with them to discuss the situation. Painting a very different version of events. Alerie claimed Ryusaki’s atonement was a lie. That he had been deceiving the others, and that his sanity slipped further and further toward madness with each passing day. That he had created another deadly Artifact, like the ones R had hidden, and the Confederation was now hunting him. Though the others doubted his tale at first, rumors of Ryusaki’s exploits were spreading, as Alerie’s next visit had been to see the Confederation. With Ryusaki on the run, Alerie had approached them. He offered to do the job that Ryusaki would not, in exchange for the same reward - lifetime immunity from prosecution. The Confederation, who had no other cards left to play, agreed to his terms - none of them having any idea just how long Alerie would live.

Ryusaki’s reputation was soon smeared by the remaining Ministries, in an attempt to discredit him and prevent him from garnering sympathy. His past misdeeds as a Dark Wizard were regularly brought up by his enemies and those who wished to apprehend him and the Crown. The remaining members of R came to believe Alerie’s stories were true, particularly as his newest ally corroborated them. Hamish Fawley, who had previously refused to join R, now accepted full membership and pledged to help stop Ryusaki and hide the Crown of Mneme at Hogwarts, just as the other Headmasters had done in their own schools. Alerie had approached Fawley separately and cut a deal with him on the side. Proposing that the Crown could be used to heal Fawley’s illness and break the Curse on him. Blind with hope, Fawley would have said or done anything that Alerie bid.

Ryusaki had only one friend left he could turn to - or so he thought. The International Confederation could not be trusted. Ruqyah’s members had all abandoned him. But despite the evil in Alerie’s soul, Ryusaki believed he was still a good man beneath it all, and this faith was seemingly rewarded when Alerie appeared like a miracle and helped Ryusaki escape a team of Aurors. The two friends reconciled, and it was at this time that Alerie gave Ryusaki the amulet that he wore, seemingly as a sentimental gift. Ryusaki went on to explain his plan to Alerie. From the shadows, he had worked tirelessly, trying to discover a way to graph magic from a witch or wizard onto a muggle. As he refused to use live subjects or do anything that risked harm to the innocent, his methods were slow and inefficient. There was only one thing left to try - The Crown. Using its power to project magic onto every human in the world by using the wearer as a template. It would never have worked, and Alerie knew this. But Ryusaki was blind with hope, and insisted on acting as the Template himself, just as Alerie planned.

Together, the two men brewed the special mind-enhancing potion necessary to use the Crown on a global scale. Alerie placed the Crown on Ryusaki’s head. Yet as the power began to overwhelm him, Ryusaki was suddenly struck in the back by his oldest friend. The two began to duel. It was during this time that, in the struggle, the Scroll containing the ingredients for Ryusaki’s special mind enhancing potion was torn in half, with each of the men taking one piece. Ryusaki had no strength, the Crown had drained him like a battery, and he had no choice but to take it off, to leave it behind. Yet using the last of his energy, Ryusaki fled, and hid his half of the Scroll. Rather than pursue him, Alerie claimed The Crown, before sending the same team of Aurors - who had been on his payroll the whole time - to apprehend the wounded Ryusaki.

Alerie brought the Crown back to the Magisterial Chamber of Ancient Wizardry, as promised. It was here that the members of the Confederation cast a vote, and soon emerged from their talks with a signed document known as the International Statute of Secrecy, marking the official end of The Witch Hunter Wars. Alerie wielded the power of The Crown of Mneme. With it, he caused all the muggles to forget magic was ever real. The two worlds became permanently divided, and Ryusaki's hopes of a utopia of enlightenment and immortality, a world where everyone had magic - went up in smoke. His dreams died with him, as he was executed for a Dark Wizard shortly thereafter, still wearing the amulet Alerie had given him as a last gift. It is said that the amulet was cursed, and that before his death, Ryusaki's jailers tortured him. By the time he died, Ryusaki's resentment of the Confederation had intensified, their betrayal, to say nothing of Alerie's betrayal, burned him to his last cinder. With Ryusaki's death, Alerie moved to seize control of R. He proposed that the group be managed by an elected leader, like the Ruqyahs of old. His influence grew further as he was unanimously voted to become the new "R."

With no means to fulfill his promise to Fawley, Alerie blamed Ryusaki for stealing half of the Dark Scroll. But there could be no hope of brewing the Mind Enhancing Potion again without it, and without the Potion, the Crown was too unstable to use. Therefore, Alerie reluctantly handed it over to Fawley to keep the peace, and it was hidden in a secret Vault at the bottom of the Hogwarts' Black Lake. Guarded by a dark spell that Alerie himself had always favored. The new "R" continued to revolutionize, with Alerie and the others gathering more and more recruits, as well as beginning to infiltrate the rising Ministries in addition to the magical schools. Meanwhile, Hamish Fawley made a groundbreaking discovery. The magic in his soul, that which came from the Curse afflicting him, contained the raw, un-concentrated power of unstable magic, but this magic could be harvested. If Fawley could be born with such a Curse, so could anyone else...including muggles, and this Curse might just endow them with enough magic to no longer be considered muggles. Ryusaki's dream was not dead after all.

Fawley and Alerie clashed for years to come, with Fawley questioning Alerie's leadership at every turn, and how much it differed from Ryusaki's vision. Until Alerie's mask slipped and he showed his true colors. Fawley and Alerie got into a fight and Alerie lost his temper, exposing his inhuman power in front of multiple "R" members. With no other choice, Alerie was forced to flee, to disappear, leaving Hamish Fawley to be elected the new leader of Ruqyah. He burned away the rest of his life trying in vain to solve Ryusaki's equation - to turn a muggle into a wizard. He died without success, however, his bloodline remained in R, and served as Leaders more often than they did not. Eventually, Fawley's descendant - a boy called Jacob, discovered the existence of R.

As for Alerie, he resurfaced many times under many pseudonyms over the years, influencing events. Working to free his father, to influence The Cabal from afar. The Amulet served him well in this endeavor. Eventually, he would reestablish direct contact with Fawley's descendants, and Jacob's Sibling would come to known him personally. But by then, he was using yet another name...

Under the moniker of Elton Elderberry, Ministry Archivist, Henri Jean Alerie continues to influence events.

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annegreifwrites · 2 years

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castelobruxo - capítulo 01

uma história brasileira no universo de Harry Potter

leia também no AO3: aqui

Antes de começar, temos que fazer um acordo.

Para uma história ser contada, obviamente existe algo diferente do normal que aconteceu, certo? Se nada fora do ordinário acontece, não tem porquê contar a história e passá-la adiante. Dito isso, se eu começasse com “era um dia como qualquer outro”, você não ia acreditar, ia? Então vamos fazer um acordo: eu não minto para você e você confia no que eu digo.

Certo?

Então confie quando eu digo que tudo começou normalmente.

Bem, tão normalmente quanto a minha vida permitia. Sem querer parecer aquela garota, que se acha toda especial, mas a minha vida não é lá um ícone de normalidade. De qualquer forma, para conseguir explicar o que aconteceu, eu vou ter que entrar em uma leve tangente para contextualizar, então aguenta aí, ok? Eu juro que isso vai chegar em algum lugar.

Acontece que eu venho de uma longa e tediosa linhagem de bruxos. Subindo a minha árvore genealógica, você vai parar em algum lugar na costa da Alemanha pelos anos 700, mas para chegar lá a gente passa pela Segunda Guerra Mundial na Alemanha, então a minha família decidiu (em um consenso não-verbal) começar a nossa linhagem durante a imigração de 1800 para o Brasil.

Porque daí a gente faz de conta que nazismo no mundo bruxo não existe.

Mas enfim.

Os Schneider historicamente eram alfaiates da nobreza, e quando vieram para o Brasil, trouxeram seus dotes com eles - e suas varinhas. Até hoje esse meio que é “o negócio da família”, e meu pai espera que eu assuma a boutique quando ele se aposentar, já que minha irmã mais velha desistiu do posto quando se mudou para Itália para ser jornalista.

O que isso quer dizer? Que eu tenho acesso à alta costura e a uma infinidade de soluções mágicas para as mais diversas adversidades da vida, e ainda assim visto o mesmo moletom manchado de tinta de cabelo por dias à fio.

Ana Carolina Schneider, o fracasso da moda bruxa, ao seu dispor.

Eu sei como soa quando eu digo que minha linhagem vem da Alemanha, mas quero deixar bem claro que minha família está longe do ideal sangue puro europeu. É raro algum agregado ser bruxo na realidade, a maioria é babaca e está tudo bem. E quando eu digo babaca, eu me refiro às pessoas sem magia, humanos “normais”, ordinários.

Enquanto crianças babacas vão para escola aprender sobre as leis de física, crianças bruxas aprendem a quebrá-las com feitiços e poções. Eu mesma fui à escola babaca até os dez anos de idade, aprendi a ler e escrever, fazer contas, noções básicas de geografia e história, mas conheço pessoas que aprenderam isso em casa, dos pais ou avós.

Ou que não aprenderam também. Não é porque alguém é bruxo que não é burro.

Aos onze anos, depois de terminar a quinta série, comecei meus estudos mágicos na escola Castelo Bruxo, no Pará.

O que foi? Achou que a história começava comigo indo para escola, descobrindo o mundo da magia? Faça-me o favor! Agiliza aí e acompanha a programação, meu querido.

O resumo é rápido: Eu fui para escola, entrei pro clã das Capivaras, fiz alguns amigos, aprendi alguns feitiços durante os últimos seis anos, quase rodei repetidamente em poções porque elas não fazem sentido algum, e agora estamos aqui.

Onde é aqui?

Aqui é dentro do MARGS - Museu de Arte do Rio Grande do Sul em Porto Alegre, indo para Castelo Bruxo para começar meu sétimo e último ano de estudo.

“E escova de dentes, tá levando?” Meu pai perguntava, suspirando e passando os dedos pelos cabelos grisalhos quando demos a volta na placa que nomeava a exposição. O Cânone Pobre – Uma Arqueologia da Precariedade na Arte estava escrito em preto no fundo branco daquela parede de acrílico no meio da sala, rodeada de obras. “Eu não quero chegar em casa e ver cartinha pedindo para eu mandar isso e aquilo, hein?“

Eu ri. “Pode deixar, não esqueci de nada” disse, adicionando um “dessa vez” ao final, quando ele me fuzilou com o olhar. Ambos sabíamos que se eu esquecesse alguma coisa, ele ia me enviar com uma mínima reclamação, mas ainda assim sempre fazíamos essa dança quando ele me levava para escola.

Era o jeito dele de demonstrar que se importava, eu acho.

Com um abraço final, ele beijou o topo da minha cabeça e eu segurei a alça da mala com firmeza.

“Me escreve para dizer se chegou bem” ele disse e eu assenti.

“Pode deixar, pai. Vou lá.” Esse foi meu adeus, e com um sorriso eu caminhei em direção à instalação que mencionaram na carta que tinha recebido semanas atrás.

Escorado em uma das paredes brancas, uma pilha de madeiras de tamanhos e tons diferentes se encontrava. Ernani Chaves dizia a plaquinha ao lado da obra, Mata-junta Escorada, 2013. Devagar, ergui a mão e toquei a madeira do topo, deslizando meu dedo para baixo, contando atentamente as tábuas.

“Catorze” murmurei, e minha mão parou.

Três batidas, um tempo, mais duas, outro tempo e uma última, era a direção que recebi.

Lembrei do coral da escola na quarta série, e fechei os olhos, contando os tempos na minha cabeça, o ritmo se repetindo. Um, dois, três, quatro - um, dois, três, quatro.

Com mais concentração do que provavelmente necessário, bati meu dedo na batida, era como um coração acelerado. Ou melhor, um coração que perde o compasso. Tive que rir, aposto que foi coisa da diretora Montenegro. Ela sempre acha um jeito de incluir arte nas coisas, especialmente se é para fazer os descoordenados do clã da Llama rirem.

Um, dois, três- Um, dois- Um-

E o mundo girou fora do eixo e no próximo segundo eu não estava mais ali.

O primeiro sentido a ser inundado foi a audição, vozes e passos apressados ecoavam no lugar e era quase ensurdecedor em um primeiro momento. Quando estava certa de que a vertigem momentânea não passaria disso, abri os olhos e me encontrei exatamente onde esperava estar.

Estávamos no subsolo, no que parecia uma estação de trem - só que sem os trilhos ou qualquer coisa que lembrasse um trem. O lugar era cinza, com paredes de cimento queimado e blocos de concreto perfeitamente lisos e simétricos cobrindo o chão que davam a ele a pior acústica do mundo. Pessoas pipocavam em todos os lados, com malas e bolsas nas mãos, falando animadamente com amigos e familiares. Tudo alto demais pro meu gosto.

Nos dez segundos que eu levei para me situar, novas pessoas apareciam, e eu dei meu melhor para seguir o fluxo escada acima. A escadaria de mármore, porém, parecia deslocada quando se chegava ao topo, chique demais para o lugar onde ela se encontrava.

Afinal, estávamos no meio do mato.

Mato é jeito de dizer, também. As escadas terminavam em uma clareira larga, no alto de uma colina. O som de insetos e pássaros estava por todos os lados, e o sol poente não facilitava a vista ao redor - mas eu sabia que se tivesse chegado antes, só veria a mesma mata fechada de sempre.

“Eu já estava achando que você não vinha!” Eu ri quando ouvi a voz, reconhecendo imediatamente.

“Deixa eu te lembrar quem é que se atrasa de nós duas?” Disse, com a sobrancelha arqueada como que desafiando ela a me refutar “Porque pelo que eu lembre, foi a tua carta que veio com um horário duas horas antes do que precisava ano passado. Não a minha.”

JooJoo era a pessoa mais desligada com horários que eu já tinha conhecido.

Ela era também a minha melhor amiga desde o primeiro dia de aula, quando no auge dos seus dez anos de idade, sem nunca ter me dado um oi na vida, ela olhou na minha cara e disse “A gente vai ser amigas, tá?”

E eu disse “Tá.”

Ué, nem toda história tem um início glamuroso.

“Os guris já chegaram?” eu perguntei enquanto ela me abraçava rindo.

“Chegaram sim, mas tô esperando a Tati e a Vivi se desenrolarem deles para dar oi” ela riu, acenando com a cabeça para a direita e eu segui seu olhar, encontrando justamente o que ela disse: Dois guris rodeados por duas cobras prontas para dar o bote.

Ou ao menos era assim que eu via, na realidade eram apenas quatro pessoas paradas conversando.

Os irmãos Oliveira, Tiago e Bernardo, eram facilmente a parte popular do nosso grupinho de amigos - ou melhor, Tiago era. Ele era do meu ano, artilheiro do time de quadribol, capitão do time de futebol, e participante de quase todos os clubes de eletivas da escola. Ele não era feio, era um 8 na verdade, mas o narcisismo dele e complexo de herói o tornavam um 5, e não tinha covinha que valesse ficar perto dele quando ele estava com a namorada.

A namorada era a Vivi - Vi-vee, não Vee-vi, como ela disse as primeiras vinte vezes que eu pronunciei o apelido dela errado, até ela entender que era de propósito. Viviane era a dona de ambos neurônios das gêmeas, Tatiana já era mais querida do que esperta. Qualquer guri da escola vai te dizer que elas eram um 10 redondinho, mas eu culpo o complexo da perfeição européia compulsória - conceito que eu criei para explicar o fenômeno que aconteceu quando eu fiz catorze e 80% das minhas colegas alisaram os cabelos e ficaram loiras. E daí que a pele delas é perfeita e o corpo delas parece que foi modelado em um manequim? Eu não tenho inveja alguma.

Nenhuminha.

Especialmente quando a Tati era o melhor exemplo de que perfeição não é sinônimo de felicidade. Acontece que a Vivi namorava o Tiago, e no universo paralelo que a Tati criou na cabeça dela, ela ficaria com o Bernardo, irmão mais novo dele. Olha que bonitinho, os Oliveira e as Silveira de parzinho.

Isso se o Bê não fosse gay, no caso.

O pobre do guri era educado demais para deixar ela sozinha de vela, mas tudo na linguagem corporal dele dizia que ele estava desconfortável com aquela guria enroscada no braço dele, toda virada em sorrisos e cílios perfeitamente alongados. Nunca entendi como o Tiago era o popular entre os dois, quando o Bê era um amorzinho e tão bonito quanto.

Se o Tiago era um 8 que virava 5, o Bê era um 8 que virava 10 facilmente.

A diferença é que, enquanto o Tiago flertava com tudo que se mexia, o Bernardo era mais na dele, um pouco mais tímido. E não era como se a escola inteira soubesse da sexualidade dele também, só nós três sabíamos - eu, ele e a JooJoo.

E os dois colegas de quarto dele também: o Claw e o Sheffel.

Revirando os olhos e deixando a minha mala com a JooJoo, eu corri para socorrer o Bernardo, pulando para me pendurar no seu pescoço em um abraço por trás que Tati não achou nada engraçado.

Ele riu, porém, e era só isso que me importava.

“Gente normal dá oi, sabe?” Bê disse me abraçando e eu soltei ele, com um sorriso amarelo.

“Oi” disse simplesmente, puxando ele pela mão, desvencilhando o coitado daquela jararaca loira “Tu viu a coluna da Lovegood n’A Marmota deste mês?”

“Não vi! Sobre o quê era?” ele me perguntou com interesse enquanto caminhávamos de volta para JooJoo, e eu ri, girando os olhos.

“Tá louco, guri? A Marmota nem saiu ainda esse mês! Só achei que tu tava precisando de socorro no meio daquelas duas.”

E foi aí que o Bê riu com gosto.

“Você não existe.”

Ficamos nós três conversando por um tempo, falando sobre as férias e recontando eventos que já tinham sido contados por cartas, só que agora com maior riqueza de detalhes - como a história de como a JooJoo de alguma forma topou com um batedor do Harpias de Holyhead no réveillon de Copacabana e teve que enrolar no inglês para pedir um autógrafo, ou sobre como o atendente da recepção do resort onde os Oliveira passaram o Natal pediu o número do Bernardo e ele surtou e disse “Oito”.

“Eu sei o que é um telefone, tá?!” Bê reclamou quando a gente riu “Mas como que eu vou dizer para esse cara que eu não tenho um? Que pessoa normal da minha idade não tem um telefone!?”

“Ah, vai ver ele achou que você era mais fora da caixa, daqueles que falam em amor líquido e como a internet vai destruir o relacionamento das pessoas” JooJoo tentou ajudar, mas ele suspirou, vencido.

“Ele deve pensar que eu faço parte de um culto, JooJoo.”

Eu não consegui nem fazer a piada que eu ia fazer, perguntando se ele tinha falado para esse cara que era bruxo (porque daí sim ia parecer parte de um culto!) porque fui interrompida pelo cenário. Já estava escuro agora e quando os últimos raios de sol sumiram, a mata pareceu se abrir. Vagalumes se acenderam, dançando em torno da clareira antes de se alinharem iluminando a trilha que apareceu à nossa frente.

Com um sorriso, pegamos nossa bagagem e começamos a caminhar junto dos outros alunos à nossa volta, mas a caminhada em si não era longa. Era agradável, na verdade. Estávamos no final do verão, e o clima úmido da mata, junto à brisa que farfalhava as folhas das árvores tornava a experiência reconfortante.

Como se eu estivesse voltando para casa depois de um dia longo.

#castelobruxo #castelo bruxo #original work #original story #história original #harry potter #luna lovegood

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