🪄 The Brothers of Mud and Mystery

(How Snouts & Sorcery Came to Be)

In the earliest hush of the Hollow, before paths had names and the stars above were claimed by constellations, two brothers were born from the same breath of mist, Snape and Dumbledore.

Some say they were the Hollow’s first heartbeat split in two: one half that could see through the veil of time, and one half that could slip through it. Snape, with his diamond-marked brow, could hear the thoughts of the unseen. Dumbledore, cloaked in moonlight, could vanish between moments like water between fingers.

They wandered separately for ages untold, guided by different callings but tethered by the same unseen thread. Whenever one paused in his journey, the other would feel a flicker, a heartbeat, a whisper, as if the Hollow itself refused to let them drift too far apart.

One night, the Hollow called to them both at once. The air grew thick with shimmer, and the fog swirled into runes no language could name. The ground beneath them pulsed, slow, steady, alive.

They followed it through archways of vine and whispering moss until they found themselves at the same place, the same breath, the same heartbeat.

The clearing was small, a circle of earth rimmed with wild strawberries that glowed as though they’d been kissed by starlight.

The air there hummed, not with sound, but with knowing.

They stood silent, and the Hollow…listened back.

Then came the pulse again, a thrum beneath their hooves, a rhythm older than language. Snape lowered his snout to the soil and felt stories moving under the surface, memories of rain, of growth, of all who had ever dreamt beneath this sky. Dumbledore disappeared into the shimmer and returned with a handful of light caught from between moments.

When they met in the center of the clearing, their magics entwined, earth and ether, sight and motion, instinct and imagination. They pressed their hooves into the mud, and it glowed gold and violet, humming with life. The Hollow’s heartbeat quickened, as though it recognized its own children returning home.

The ground rippled, and from the swirl of enchanted mud rose a low stone archway carved with runes that no one had written, yet both could read. Across it shimmered the name:

🌀 Snouts & Sorcery

It was not just a place, it was a promise.

A refuge for all who seek to make magic rather than merely study it. For the brothers had learned that true magic is born not from power, but from creation, from shaping, building, and believing with one’s own hands and heart.

Here they remained, teachers of mud and meaning. Their lessons weren’t written in books, but left in ripples of the earth itself, in every act of art, kindness, or curiosity that touches the world.

And if you listen closely while your hands are busy crafting, painting, planting, or dreaming, you might still hear them laughing together.

Snape and Dumbledore, stirring up the mud of the Hollow, making magic out of the ordinary.

By: Brittney Humphrey

10.22.25