Curses are like puzzles wrapped in deadly enigmas.
The more insidious and intricate, the more fascinating they become.
Summer's oppressive heat was already seeping through the manor's stone walls, heralding the arrival of her least favorite season.
She despised the cheerful birdsong, the relentless sunshine, the sickening scent of blooming flowers.
It all felt like a mockery of the darkness she craved.
Her mind drifted to a particularly unpleasant summer memory—the ill-fated garden party her Mother had insisted upon hosting.
She had been forced into a ghastly floral-laced dress—black, of course—and her braids adorned with revolting ribbons.
The guests, a nauseating array of Ministry officials and their simpering wives, had cooed over how "darling" she looked. She had seriously contemplated testing the lethality of her newest potion concoction on the lot of them.
A sudden knock made her jolt from her reverie. Before she could utter a word, Pugsley's round face poked through the gap, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Hey, Wednesday," he chirped, far too cheerfully for her liking. "Are you going to eat that bacon? Can I have it if you're not?"
She glanced down at her untouched breakfast tray, the bacon growing cold and congealed. Her appetite had fled at the mere thought of summer's impending arrival.
"Take it," Wednesday intoned, her voice devoid of emotion. "I've lost my taste for flesh this morning."
Pugsley's grin widened as he snatched the bacon from her plate. "Thanks, sis! You're the best!"
As the door clicked shut behind him, Wednesday turned back to her desk, thoughts already drifting back to the intricacies of curses and the delicious mysteries they held.
Perhaps this summer wouldn't be a total loss if she could unravel a particularly nasty hex or two.
*
Another dreadful morning came as Wednesday watched Pugsley gleefully devour another bacon, grease smearing his cherubic face. Despite having no magical ability, her brother's enthusiasm for life's darker pleasures remained undimmed.
A twinge of something akin to affection stirred in Wednesday's chest.
"Any progress on that flesh-eating bacteria you were cultivating?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.
Pugsley's eyes lit up. "Oh, you wouldn't believe it, Wednesday! I've managed to isolate a strain that works twice as fast. Want to see?"
Wednesday suppressed a smirk. "Perhaps later. I'm in the middle of some... research."
He nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Curses again? You know, I might not be able to cast them, but I've been working on a mechanical device that mimics the effects of a Cruciatus Curse. Want to be my test subject?"
For a moment, she almost felt proud. Pugsley may be a squib, but his ingenuity in finding non-magical ways to inflict suffering was truly impressive. "Tempting," she drawled, "but I'll have to decline. I have more pressing matters to attend to."
As Pugsley shrugged and retreated from her room, Wednesday turned her attention back to the yellowed, animated newspaper spread across her desk.
Her eyes skimmed the article, drinking in every macabre detail.
—
The Daily Prophet
SECTION: Daily Lessons
June 29, 1973
CURSES MOST FOUL: THE DARKEST LEGENDS OF BRITAIN AND BEYOND
By: Miranda Quillfeather
—
The wizarding world has long been steeped in mystery, danger, and the occasional bone-chilling tale of curses that refuse to be forgotten. From ancient enchantments to modern-day misfortunes, certain spells and curses have left an indelible mark on magical history. While some are whispered about in hushed tones, others are openly feared. Today, we delve into some of the most infamous curses known to witch and wizard alike.
The Curse of Tutshill Tower
Nestled in the rolling hills of Gloucestershire lies the crumbling ruin of Tutshill Tower, a place infamous for its malevolent reputation. Legend has it that the tower was cursed by a bitter warlock who sought revenge on a duplicitous rival. Any witch or wizard who dares to reside within its walls is said to fall victim to madness, their magic turning against them in horrifying ways. Over the centuries, countless brave souls have attempted to break the curse, only to meet grisly ends.
One of the most well-documented cases involved the ambitious Curse-Breaker Phineas Crowley. In 1857, Crowley entered Tutshill Tower, determined to lift the enchantment. Days later, he was found wandering the countryside, his wand fused to his hand and his memories in tatters. Tutshill remains abandoned to this day, a stark reminder of the danger of meddling with dark magic.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts Job Position Curse
Of all the curses to haunt wizarding Britain, few are as infamous—or as feared—as the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
For decades, this seemingly prestigious post has been plagued by a sinister curse, claiming a new victim each year. From unexplained disappearances to gruesome accidents, or a just simple change of heart, the fates that befall most of these unfortunate educators are as varied as they are tragic. Most recently, the wizarding world was shocked by the brutal murder of Professor Erina Johnson, a decorated Auror and muggleborn witch who held the position just two years ago. Her body was discovered on the border edge of Hogsmeade, bearing marks of dark magic so foul that seasoned investigators were left shaken.
"It's as though the position itself rejects anyone who dares to take it," said Cassius Rook, a magical historian and expert on curses, in an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet. "The origins of the curse remain a mystery, though some believe this curse may stem from dark forces that have long sought to undermine the fight against evil."
Despite the ominous reputation of the DADA position, applications continue to pour in each year, with many aspiring witches and wizards undeterred by the curse. This phenomenon can be attributed to the school's current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, a revered figure in the wizarding community known as the Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock of Wizengamot.
As the school prepares to welcome yet another brave (or foolhardy) soul to fill the position, one can't help but wonder: who will be the next to fall victim to the DADA curse?
The Stone of Stroud
Another chilling tale of curses comes from the small wizarding village of Stroud, where a peculiar obsidian stone is said to doom anyone who touches it. The Stone of Stroud, believed to have been cursed by a vengeful hag in the 16th century, brings misfortune and ruin upon its victims. Tales of wizards losing their…
…
A Word of Caution
Curses, by their very nature, are unpredictable and dangerous. Whether they stem from personal vengeance, dark magic gone awry, or ancient enchantments, they serve as a reminder of magic's perilous power.
As wizards—or witch, we must tread carefully in the face of these malevolent forces, for while magic can be a source of wonder, it can also be a harbinger of doom.
Have you encountered a curse or know of a dark tale that deserves to be shared? Write to us at the Daily Prophet and let us know. After all, the most sinister stories are often those we dare not speak aloud.
---
*Disclaimer: The Daily Prophet is not responsible for any ill effects caused by discussing or investigating curses.*
—
A familiar thrill course through Wednesday's veins.
Now this was a mystery worth sinking her teeth into.
She folded the newspaper with deliberate care, her mind already whirring with possibilities.
A curse so potent it could claim a life every year, yet subtle enough to evade detection by some of the most powerful witches and wizards in Britain? Delicious.
"Fascinating," she murmured, her lips curling into what might have been mistaken for a smile. "A curse that persists despite the best efforts of Albus Dumbledore himself. One has to admire its... tenacity."
Wednesday rose from her seat, the creaking floorboards beneath a somber accompaniment to her thoughts. The fading light of day cast long shadows across the room, transforming everyday objects into grotesque silhouettes. How fitting.
"Mother always said that the best curses are like fine poison," she muses aloud, her fingers tracing the spine of an ancient tome on dark magic. "Slow-acting, insidious, and nearly impossible to trace back to their source."
Wednesday's gaze drifted to the window, where a raven perched on a gnarled branch, its beady eyes seeming to meet hers in silent understanding. "And what better place to hide such a curse than in plain sight, at the very heart of magical education?"
A plan to uncover was already forming, as intricate and deadly as a spider's web. This wasn't just another mundane mystery; this was a chance to unravel something truly dark and complex. Something worthy of an Addams. Something that demanded her focus.
And she intends to oblige.