#cephaloblog

I suspect, however, that this client has some inside knowledge of goblin anatomy. Of course the tooth could have been pilfered from one of the aforementioned pureblood mansions, but I have an inexplicable certainty that this tooth was obtained by fulfilling one of two requirements: first, a rare trust or bargain between goblin and wix; second, an unhappy and specific combination of magical power and amoral cunning not seen in this form since the 16th century in Yardley Platt. The second option is too terrible to consider, so I must congratulate this querent on their enviable connections. (A third option would be that the client was two goblins disguised as one tall witch. Unlikely, since two goblins of average height would produce a 2.4 metre-tall figure, but possible). Therefore her mysterious assertion that the tooth in question is a wisdom tooth bears serious consideration.

Wisdom teeth are so named for their late emergence, but the term dates back at least to the fourth century BC, with a mention in Aristotle’s History of Animals of painful sōphronistêres. The gaining and losing of teeth can be used to mark important milestones in our lives and correspondingly occupy our thoughts, myths and dreams, from Muggles’ milk tooth-offerings for the Tooth Fairy to the iconic post-mortem skeleton’s grin. We seem to have a fairly firm idea of what teeth should be like, and when our expectations are confounded we often respond with horror and fascination, like one might upon being presented in the dim lamplight of one’s porch steps with a brick by a grinning stranger. This is, I would argue, what has made the Tudor propaganda regarding Richard III’s full set of prenatal teeth a subject of such enduring interest.

But what specific significance do teeth have? What particular magical resonance would a goblin wisdom tooth offer? Teeth seem to only occasionally feature specifically in folklore relating to magic, but where they do they are often connected to both bodily and magical power. The common dream of tooth loss is often interpreted as a loss of personal or magical power, or even a warning of death, and some Swedish magic users consider teeth the seat of magical power, with strong or prenatal teeth conferring greater power and lost teeth corresponding directly with lost magical aptitude. 

I feel safe guessing that this has the potential to be a powerful amplifier (though more on power and control later), and that more speculatively verbal and close-range magic might be areas to which a goblin tooth wand would be well suited. However, much of the tooth’s power in belief and practice seems to be to do with the link between a person and their own teeth, and as with most materials from sapient creatures individual character has a lot of influence - possibly even more so in the case of a wisdom tooth, taken when the individual’s personality has had time to become realised and settle - so it seems a fair guess that this tooth’s aptitudes will be greatly affected by two things:

the maker and wielder’s relationship to the goblin whose tooth was used;

the goblin themselves, and their particular magical signature and aptitudes.

I can’t help you with these. Ask the goblin.

A brick ‘shell’, while almost certainly not as precise a focus as a more streamlined, pointed traditional wand, will nevertheless provide some measure of control with its geometric shape and precise dimensions. A brick takes the malleable, creative power of clay (in this case enchanted clay, perhaps even from a construct) and makes it solid, dependable, unmoving. However, there’s only so much a single brick can do to control the blunt power of raw magic channelled through a goblin molar. Additionally, a sapient core with a man-made shell is an innovation with implications unknown, though I could hazard some speculations. Focii other than the traditional rod-shaped, usually tapering wand, and other departures from the ‘naturally occurring enchanted wood shell’-‘magical creature/being body part’ tradition, are valid as wand alternatives in principle and in practice, but in this case I doubt this is the continuation of a tradition or the outcome of a sequence of rigorous testing.

In short: this seems like a wand with unforgiving, blunt power, suited to short-range spells without finesse or requirement for adaptation, possibly cast through contact, probably with a shape or pattern to the magic that carries between spells. However, given the lack of research on non-wand focii, the non-traditional materials used and the lack of information on their origins or precise composition, the frankly haphazard construction and the fact that even now I hear her fingers upon the windowpane, I give this analysis with the caveat that this is really outside my realm of expertise. I’m frankly left with more questions than answers. If you’d like clarification on any part of this analysis, do owl, non-threateningly, during normal office hours. I will be strengthening my wards.

N.B. It should be noted that, as part of goblins’ intricate network of debt and belonging beliefs, the tooth in this wand may be game to be reclaimed by the original goblin, or indeed by any goblin. Conversely, the wandmaker’s status as its creator may take precedence, leaving them the right (under some goblin custom) to repossess the wand at any point.