*evil eye opal* or *hope, innocence & purity opal*? was: importance of opal

[jastrangfeld <mrsbonsai@charter.net>]

No: HPFGUIDX 48312

Well I decided to do some digging :)  I've heard of *cursed* necklaces
on the discovery channel.  So this could be interesting!

Alright, so we have a trade off of beliefs here.  Could be
representing good or evil in HP!  So what could we possibly come up
with as logical conclusions then?  If JK were trying to connect the
opal necklace with the opal ring which killed so many?  Or do Madam
Maxime's opals represent that hope, innocence, and purity?

Knowing where JK gets some of her resources might help.  So here are
the legends I found, if anyone wants to make something of them?

Julie

http://www.jewelryexpert.com/articles/opal.htm

"Opal,  since early Roman times,  was regarded as one of the most
treasured gems until the 19th century,  when Sir Walter Scott's novel
"Ann of Geierstein" associated this fiery stone with an unfortunate
heroine.  The story's heroine,  accused of being a demon,  died
shortly after her opal lost all its color when sprinkled with holy
water.  As the book became more popular,  superstition also increased
and opal became associated with bad luck.

But this was just superstition and not fact!  Queen Victoria helped
dispel the curse on opal by giving opal jewelry to relatives as
wedding gifts."


http://www.rocksonfire.com/About-Opals.htm

" The myth of 'bad luck' opals:
The treasure chambers of the European monarchies contain uncountable
and unbelievably beautiful pieces of opal jewelry. With the discovery
of the Australian opal fields and its production of unexpected high
quantities of precious opal, the myth was born that the wearer of an
opal would bear the curse of bad luck. The main reason for this myth
was, according to some sources, that is was now possible for
middleclass people to own one of these highly-desired gems, previously
only available to the aristocracy. So why not try to scare "them" away
to keep the privilege of owning this Queen of Gems in the hand of some
chosen ones? Thank goodness intelligence remained victorious, so that
today everyone who wants to, can own and enjoy an opal."

Oh, and I really love the implications of this one :)

http://www.tucsonshowguide.com/stories/sep01/opal.cfm

"While many stones were prized for their positive magical qualities,
others were denounced as vessels of evil. No gem was more vilified
than the poor opal. Witches and sorcerers supposedly used black opals
to increase their own magical powers or to focus them like laser beams
on people they wanted to harm. Medieval Europeans dreaded the opal
because of its resemblance to "the Evil Eye," and its superficial
likeness to the optical organs of cats, toads, snakes, and other
common creatures with hellish affiliations.

The opal's nasty reputation has troubled folklorists for centuries.
Fantastic legends have grown up around this harmless stone, cautionary
tales designed to discourage those who might otherwise find themselves
mortally attracted by its fiery brilliance. To this day, the odd
prejudice against opals remains alive and well in some corners of the
world, especially in the backwaters of southern Europe and the Middle
East, where jewelers won't carry opals and customers won't buy them.

Opal's vibrant colors make it a perfect stone for jewelry, despite its
reputation for bad luck. Boulder opal courtesy AGTA, photo by John
Parrish.
Opals are supposed to be bad luck. They are also thought to have
teleportation powers. A piece of opal jewelry might suddenly disappear
from some obvious place, only to turn up weeks or months later in a
refrigerator freezer, the breast pocket of a T-shirt, the glove
compartment of the family car, or some other absurd location.

An opal completely contaminated with evil is believed capable of
maiming or even killing a person foolish enough to wear or own it.
Tales alleging to prove this are few in number, but the belief
persists nevertheless, like those old but curiously tenacious
admonitions about walking under ladders, stepping on a crack in the
sidewalk, or allowing a black cat to dart across one's path. Popular
superstitions such as these will be with us always, but however
fanciful they may be, most have prosaic origins.

"A possible explanation of the superstitious dread that opal used to
excite some time ago may be found in the fact that lapidaries and
gem-setters to whom opals were entrusted were sometimes so unfortunate
as to fracture them in the process of cutting or setting," wrote
George Frederick Kunz in The Curious Lore of Precious Stones. "This
was frequently due to no fault on the part of the cutters or setters,
but was owing to the natural brittleness of the opal. As such workmen
are responsible to the owners for any injury to the gems, they would
soon acquire a prejudice against opals, and would come to regard them
as unlucky stones. Very widespread superstitions have no more
foundation than this, for the original cause, sometimes quite a
rational one, is soon lost sight of and popular fantasy suggests
something entirely different and better calculated to appeal to the
imagination."

Medieval Europeans shunned opal because of its likeness to the eyes of
several "evil" animals, such as cats. Photo by Morgan Beard. LEFT:
Black opal (left) and boulder opal (right), courtesy AGTA, photo by
John Parrish.
Evil Ties
Fear of the Evil Eye, common to cultures the world over, was and
remains especially acute in the Mediterranean. Simply defined, the
term signifies a covetous or malicious glance meant to bring harm.
Witches were thought to possess this awful power in great abundance,
though common people with unrealized magical talents could also wield
it, albeit unconsciously. The Eye did its stuff directly and
indirectly. It could strike its intended victim sick or dead on the
spot, or kill family members, blight crops, sicken livestock, or
summon a storm with the muscle to level a house, a village, or an
entire town.

The Evil Eye's association with the opal probably originated in
Elizabethan England. There the stones were called "ophals," a
shortening of the word ophthalmos, which referred to the human eye.
The Evil Eye was accepted as fact in 16th Century Britain, as was
belief in omens and auguries. In the minds of superstitious
Elizabethans, the occult link between ophals and ophthalmos was both
obvious and ominous.

White opal, courtesy AGTA. Photo by John Parrish.
Fear of the Eye crossed the Atlantic with European settlers. In
Puritan New England, colonists wore heart-shaped pendants with prayers
inside to protect themselves from the godless gaze of Satan's servants
- witches, sorcerers, and magic workers who could be found in every
forest clearing, every abandoned barn, and under every bed.

Ironically, they had it all wrong. The word opal had actually
descended from the Roman "opalus," an ancestor of the modern opal that
was thought to heal the blind and make a person invisible to his
enemies. Opalus was among the most virtuous of stones. To the Romans,
who in their own way were even more superstitious than the
Elizabethans, it was certainly no kin to the Evil Eye.

Opal also has unfortunate ties to the Black Plague, an affliction that
struck in the middle of the 14th Century, ultimately eradicating more
than a third of Europe's population and much more in neighboring
territories. As the plague put Europe under siege, desperate people
searched for a scapegoat. They found several in the persons of Jews,
heretics, and, of course, the much-maligned opal.

"The year 1348, an astrological Martial sub-cycle, saw Venice assailed
by destructive earthquakes, tidal waves and the Plague," wrote Isidore
Kozminsky in The Magic and Science of Jewels and Stones. "The epidemic
in a few months carried off two-thirds of the population of the city
sparing neither rich nor poor, young nor old. It is said that at this
time the opal was a favorite gem with Italian jewelers, being much
used in their work. It is further said that opals worn by those
stricken became suddenly brilliant and that the luster entirely
departed with the death of the wearer. Story further tells that the
opal then became an object of dread and was associated with the death
of the victim."

A historic, 594-gram opal from the Vienna Collection, found in 1672.
Photo courtesy Naturhistorisches Museum Wien and ExtraLapis.
Many centuries later, a Spanish king would sully the opal's already
sordid reputation further still. In the late 19th Century, Alfonzo XII
fell madly in love with a beautiful aristocrat named the Comtesse de
Castiglione. The Comtesse reciprocated the King's affection, but
months before the pair were to wed the faithless Alfonzo married
another woman, the Princess Mercedes. Vowing to get even, the Comtesse
sent the couple a wedding present in the form of a magnificent opal
set in a huge ring of the purest gold. The princess was immediately
smitten by the gift and insisted that her husband slip it on her
finger. He obliged, and two months later the princess mysteriously died.

After the funeral Alfonzo gave the ring to his grandmother, Queen
Christina, who almost immediately thereafter also expired. After that
the ring passed to Alfonzo's sister, the Infanta Maria del Pilar.
Maria died as well, apparently victim to the same weird illness that
had taken the other two women. The ring was up for grabs yet again,
and when Alfonzo's sister-in-law expressed an interest, he let her
have it with the usual result.

 
BELOW: Matrix opal set in a decorative box from the Huber Collection,
circa 1790. Photo by Peter Huber, courtesy ExtraLapis.

Deeply depressed by then, the King decided to end it all by slipping
the ring on his own finger, just as Cleopatra had embraced the asp to
terminate her own misery. In little over a month, the ring did to
Alfonzo what the snake had done to the Egyptian Queen. The ring was
finally attached to a gold chain and strung around the neck of a
statue of the patron saint of Madrid, the Virgin of Alumdena. That put
an end to the incredible chain of tragic circumstances, but was the
gem really responsible for the calamities besetting this royal family?
According to Kozminsky, it seems pretty unlikely.

"At this time it must be remembered that cholera was raging through
Spain," he writes in The Magic and Science of Jewels and Stones. "Over
100,000 people died of it during the summer and autumn of 1885. It
attacked all classes from the palace of the king to the hut of the
peasant, some accounts giving the death estimate at 50 percent of the
population. It would be as obviously ridiculous to hold the opal
responsible for this scourge as it was to do so in the previously
noted plague at Venice. All that may be said is that in this case the
opal was not a talisman of good for King Alfonzo XII of Spain and to
those who received it from his hand, and that in the philosophy of
sympathetic attraction and repulsion man, stones, metals and all
natural objects come under the same law."

Black opal, probably the most popular variety. Opal courtesy AGTA,
photo by John Parrish.
Fear and loathing of the opal did not discourage the development of a
counter folklore which cast the stone as a symbol of hope, innocence,
and purity. The Arabs of Mohammed's time were quite enamored of the
gem, and were convinced they were carried to earth on bolts of
lightning. European writers and poets of the Middle Ages also sang the
opal's praises, claiming it had curative effect on bad eyes, protected
children from predatory animals, banished evil, and made
entertainments, friendships, and romances much more intense and
enjoyable. Fair-haired girls in Germany and Scandinavia were
encouraged to wear opal pins in their hair, as they were thought to
add magical luster to their golden locks and protect them from
freezing rain, wind, and other vicissitudes of the Nordic climate.

Despite all of this and more, the bad rap against opals has stuck
through the ages. This can be partially explained by human nature. For
most people, a bad opal will always have more appeal than a good one,
a cursed opal more fascination than an opal that brings good luck,
wards off wicked influences, or cures. We humans love a mystery, and
the darker the mystery, the better we like it. "


Well if that didn't strike your fancy, we'll just borrow a bit of fan
fiction here . . . :

http://www.dprophet.com/iofy/chap20pg1.html

 Light, steel hued clouds flew towards Hogwarts, bringing brilliant
white flurries of snow to the grounds. Winter arrived in high style,
announcing its presence with more snow than Hogwarts had seen in quite
some time.

The peaceful scene of light snowflakes gliding slowly to the soft
white earth didn't quell the stress and anxiety felt within the castle
walls. Snape had ordered that classes should resume as normally as
possible. Transfiguration was the only class left off the student's
schedules.

All of the Professors seemed tired, agitated and horribly on edge. In
the Gryffindor fourth years' History of Magic lesson, Professor Binns
actually swore when he tried to pick up a piece of chalk, but his
fingers simply glided through it. He had forgotten he was dead again.

"Professor!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked by the phrase that left
Binns' mouth.

"Oh, er, excuse me," muttered Professor Binns. "Where was I?"

"Opals, sir," said Lavender Brown timidly.

"Yes, opals
" Professor Binns seemed dazed. He wasn't the only one; it
seemed all the Professors had lost their trains of thought and the
next train wasn't due back at the station for ages.

"Opals," continued Professor Binns, "Are the subject of an easily
forgotten myth. The myth itself, while familiar to both Muggles and
the wizarding community, is so disturbing, most choose to forget it.
Can anyone explain to me the most common attributes of the opal?"

Hermione immediately raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Opals are the birthstone for the month of October and they're known
for the way they reflect to many different shades of color."

"Well done, Granger," said Binns. "But can anyone tell me about the
myth behind those reflections?"

Ron, turning out of instinct to look at Hermione, fell off his chair.

"Mr. Weasley," said Binns flatly, "You're supposed to raise your hand,
not touch the floor. What is it?"

"Sorry," said Ron, brushing off his knees. "Hermione didn't raise her
hand."

"I beg your pardon," said Binns seriously while a few of the students
started to giggle and Hermione started turning red in the face.

"Hermione always raises her hand," said Ron blankly.

Professor Binns rolled his eyes as Ron mouthed, "I'm sorry" to Hermione.

"Moving on," said Binns, "The legend states that if anyone who was not
born in the month of October wears an opal, their soul will be sold to
that opal and upon their 'death', their soul will be taken and placed
in the stone as a constant reminder to those who would dare wear a
cursed opal. It is said that the more colors an opal reflects, the
more poor souls have been trapped inside."

The eyes of many of the students grew wider in shock. They'd heard
many legends in History of Magic, but none were so gruesome as this.
Immediately a few hands shot into the air.

"Yes, Mr. Thomas?"

"Where did the legend start?" asked Dean.

Professor Binns noticed a certain degree of excitement in Dean Thomas'
voice
 a certain degree of excitement he'd never before seen in his
class. He didn't know what to make of it; perhaps Dean was ill and he
should call Madam Pomfrey.

"It's not certain where the legend started, perhaps a mead house
somewhere. Although, supposedly the first case of a soul being 'sold'
to the opal occurred in ancient Egypt when Pharaoh Akhenaten gave his
wife, Queen Nefertiti, an opal pendant. Muggle Egyptologists know
Pharaoh Akhenaten died of a broken heart but they only, according to
this legend, knew half the story. Supposedly, his High Priest - a
wizard, of course - informed the Pharaoh that his wife was indeed not
dead, but the opal had come to claim its possession. Akhenaten,
knowing he was responsible for his wife's fate, died not only of a
broken heart, but an unbearably guilty conscience."

A hush fell over the class and then within a few moments of awed
silence, five more hands shot into the air. 

 "Yes, Seamus?"

"Is
 is there anyway to get a soul out of an
 an opal?" asked Seamus
breathlessly.

Professor Binns thought Seamus looked just as ill as poor Dean Thomas.
Perhaps there was an epidemic on his hands.

"That is unknown, but there have been a few theories," answered Binns.
"Next
 Mr. Longbottom."

"Has anyone figured out how to
 how to
 to capture someone's soul in
an opal, even if they were born in October?" Neville stuttered.

Poor Mr. Longbottom
 he must have caught this virus worse than the
others. He looks as if he might faint. He looks as if he might wet
himself, poor chap.

"Rumors circulated for a while that there might be a way to do this,
but nothing was ever confirmed. It is just a legend and there have
been no confirmed accounts of such a thing happening," assured
Professor Binns. "Although
 it always looks as if the person just died
of natural causes, so one might never know."

Binns looked around the class and saw that all hands had been lowered
thoughtfully and maybe the epidemic had resolved itself. They were all
quiet again, thank heavens. No need to alert Madam Pomfrey.