The Sorcerer's Companion: A Guide to the Magical World of Harry Potter (52 page)

There’s at least one place where magic words have always seemed to work—in the performances of entertainment magicians. Seventeenth-century wonder-workers were particularly fond of
hocus pocus
, which was originally part of the larger incantation
hocus pocus, toutous talontus, vade celerita jubes
. Like other pseudo-Latin incantations, the words mean nothing, but they sound mysterious and were used by countless performers.

Hocus pocus
was originally an entertainer’s phrase. Unlike
abracadabra
, it never appeared on amulets or in spell books, but its origin is a mystery. Some conjuring historians trace it to
Ochus Bochus
, the name of a legendary Italian wizard. Another theory cites the Welsh
hocea pwca
, meaning “a goblin’s trick.” It has also been suggested that
hocus pocus
is related to the Latin
hoc est corpus meum
(“this is my body”), from the Roman Catholic mass. This seems unlikely to many scholars, however, since popular entertainers would hardly have risked offending the Church—whose antagonism to magic of every sort was well known—by borrowing “magic words” from a sacred service. About all we can say for certain is that
hocus pocus
was in common use by the early seventeenth century. The English playwright Ben Jonson reported a stage magician calling himself Hokus Pokus in 1625, and the word appears in the title of an early “how-to” magic book,
Hocus Pocus Junior
, published in 1634. Today, many conjurors have dropped the use of magic words altogether, and “hocus pocus” has come to mean, in a general sense, trickery or deception. It may be the root of the English word “hoax.”

Achieving the desired result, as might be imagined, was not always as simple as copying down the words. Squares had to be inscribed on the proper materials, under the astrological influence of the appropriate stars and planets, and at the proper time. And even then, the results were not guaranteed. When a magic square or word failed to work, however, the fault was often said to lie with the practitioner, who was either saying the word incorrectly, did not have the proper attitude, or had omitted some important procedure. On the other hand, when a patient recovered from an illness or demons kept their distance, the effectiveness of the word was proven.

Belief in the power of magic words has really not diminished much over the centuries. The notion that “please” and “thank you” will bring magical results is still taught to children (at least by some folks) and still works. College students and advertising mavens know that the right words (called “buzz words” these days) will produce good grades and spectacular sales. And major corporations pay tens of thousands of dollars to wordsmiths who can come up with the one “magic” name or word that will make them or their product a household word—and a fortune.

t’s a rare plant indeed that requires the gardener to wear ear protection. While Professor Sprout’s insistence that her
herbology
students don earmuffs to work with mandrake plants may seem batty, it does have the weight of centuries of popular folk belief behind it. Throughout Europe, tradition held that the mandrake would utter a shriek if pulled from the ground, and all who heard it would perish. Harvesting mandrake was well worth the risk, however, because the plant had several well-known medicinal uses and was also believed to be endowed with powerful magical properties.

The part of the mandrake plant that has generally been considered most valuable is the thick, brown root, which can grow three to four feet into the ground. The root is often forked, and to anyone with a little imagination can look like a person. Descriptive books of plants and herbs frequently depicted the mandrake (a member of the nightshade family) with human characteristics—as a male with a long beard or as a female with a bushy head of hair. The human likeness could be easily enhanced by carving the root with a knife. This close resemblance to human beings no doubt explains the belief that the mandrake would cry out when pulled from the ground, like a person suddenly yanked from a warm bed.

A fifteenth-century depiction of male and female mandrakes
(
photo credit 54.1
)

Despite any sympathy humans might have for the plight of the uprooted mandrake, it was pulled up with great frequency and applied to a wide variety of purposes. In ancient times, it was considered a painkiller and a sleeping aid, and in large doses was said to induce delirium and even madness. It was used to promote rest in those suffering chronic pain and was also prescribed to treat melancholy, convulsions, and rheumatism. The Romans used mandrake as an anesthetic, giving the patient a piece of the root to chew before surgery.

The ancients and their descendants in medieval Europe also valued mandrake for its supposed magical properties. It was a popular ingredient in love
potions
and was said to have been used by
Circe
, the best-known sorceress of Greek mythology, to prepare her most powerful elixirs. Anglo-Saxon lore held that the mandrake could expel
demons
from those who were possessed, and many believed it could ward off evil if prepared in a dried form and worn as an
amulet
. On the other hand, some folklore held that demons actually
lived
in mandrake roots, and possession of a carved mandrake root occasionally led to charges of witchcraft. Suspicious folk claimed that mandrake grew best under the gallows of executed murderers.

Stories of the mandrake’s fatal cry were well known in pre-modern Europe, and many who wanted to use the root for magic or medicine must have hesitated, fearing what might happen when they pulled the plant from the ground. Someone with such concerns might turn to an “herbal”—a book filled with information about the household and medicinal uses of plants. There they would find a solution to the dilemma. Most writers offered the same advice: Tie one end of a rope to the mandrake plant, while securing the other end around a dog’s neck. After retreating to a safe distance, cover your ears and call the dog, who will run toward you, safely uprooting the plant.