My New Year's resolution this year was to focus on self-improvement, starting with a repair job on my nose. For years, it had been out of shape, preventing me from breathing properly through my right nostril and leaving me with a persistent sense of discomfort.

After undergoing surgery, I hoped to finally breathe freely. But instead, I was met with a new array of sinus problems that seemed to defy every remedy I tried. From conventional pills to home-brewed solutions. But nothing seemed to work.

In my quest for answers, and an undying sense of frustration, I found myself wondering about fictional characters and possible fictional remedies. That’s when it struck me: “I bet Voldemort never had any sinus problems.”

After all, the movie version of Voldemort famously lacked a nose post-resurrection. No nose, no sinuses – no sinus problems, right?

Theories behind Voldemort’s nose and sinuses

The absence of Voldemort’s nose can be attributed to various theories. One popular theory is that his extensive use of the dark arts led to his physical transformation, including the loss of his nose. While this theory is intriguing, it seems a bit far-fetched to think that dark magic would selectively make someone “lose their nose.”

And even if dark magic were to do so, why stop at the nose? What’s the argument here, that magic works in mysterious ways? That just sounds preposterous, and plain inconvenient.

A more plausible theory, in my view, is that Voldemort himself might have suffered from sinus problems. Perhaps he too had a runny nose that drove him mad to the point of wanting to remove it altogether. The idea of a character who is so focused on removing potential sources of discomfort that he would venture so far into the dark arts to remove a major facial feature is fitting for someone as obsessively perfectionistic as Voldemort. And convenient too.

If this theory holds true, then Voldemort might have been inclined towards medical studies. Come to think of it, he would have had to be if he were to make a Horcrux.

The recipe for making a horcrux, according to Professor Horace Slughorn, calls for "splitting the soul" and imparting an object with that part of your soul. But to do so, he would most likely also have to sacrifice a part of his body to have it act as a primary vessel for that "split soul" until it finds its final resting place in an object (inanimate or else wise). And what better part to sacrifice than a vestigial organ?

The science of vestigial organs and Voldy’s potential choices

In exploring the connection between Voldemort's physical form and his pursuit of perfection, it’s intriguing to consider which vestigial organs he might have removed. According to this article, vestigial organs are remnants of our evolutionary past—that once served a function in our ancestors but have since become largely redundant.

Now, while many would argue that we have many vestigial organs, Voldemort would have chosen only seven (due to his belief in the power of the number seven). Although he inadvertently ended up creating eight, with Harry Potter being the accidental 8th.

  1. Paranasal sinuses: these air-filled cavities in the skull connect through the nose. Although their precise function is not entirely understood, they contribute to nasal resonance and are often associated with a constant state of runny nose, sinus infections, and other complications. By removing his sinuses, Voldemort would have eliminated a potential source of discomfort and infection. However, this might have led to alterations in his voice and slight changes in his breathing (and thus his peculiar pronunciation of the killing curse).
  2. Appendix: in our herbivorous ancestors, the appendix was part of a larger cecum used for digesting cellulose-rich plant material. As human diets evolved and became less dependent on raw plant matter, the appendix’s role diminished, with its only known contribution being occasional problems like appendicitis. Voldemort would likely have removed this organ to avoid any risk of infection and/or gut-wrenching pain.
  3. Coccyx (tailbone): the coccyx serves as an anchor for certain muscles but is otherwise considered redundant. Removing it would streamline Voldemort’s skeletal structure and reduce the risk of tailbone injuries, enhancing his agility.
  4. Wisdom teeth: wisdom teeth, which often caused dental complications due to overcrowding, would have been another target. Extracting wisdom teeth has always been a standard procedure to prevent future health problems. These would likely have been a probable target for Voldemort.
  5. Plica semilunaris: this small fold of tissue in the eye serves no essential function. Removing it would contribute to Voldemort’s streamlined appearance without affecting his vision.
  6. Palmaris longus muscle: this muscle, absent in a significant portion of the population, is not crucial for hand function. Voldemort might have chosen to remove this muscle to further refine his physical form. Although its absence would not notably affect his dexterity or magical abilities, it would explain his odd style of holding his wand.
  7. Erector Pili muscles: these muscles, responsible for causing goosebumps, are vestigial and of minimal importance. Removing them would have no significant impact on Voldemort’s physical or magical abilities.
  8. Body hair: Voldemort’s hair loss could be a direct consequence of his creation of the eighth Horcrux—Harry Potter. Although the hair loss was accidental rather than deliberate, Voldemort would likely view it as a fitting reason to end Harry’s life (other than him being known as the “boy who lived").

Connecting horcruxes with vestigial organs

To relate each Horcrux to a vestigial organ, we can align them based on their symbolic or practical connections to Voldemort. Here’s how each Horcrux might correspond to a specific vestigiality:

  1. Helga Hufflepuff’s cup (Paranasal sinus): created by Helga Hufflepuff and later transformed into a Horcrux by Voldemort, the cup represented his attempt to achieve ultimate power and control. Just like Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, which when touched, grew infinitely and caused serious problems for the trio, untreated sinus infections can lead to major issues like a persistent runny nose, painstaking sinus infections, and debilitating migraines.
  2. Tom Riddle’s diary (Appendix): Tom Riddle’s diary serves as a conduit for Voldemort’s dark magic and a means of manipulating and corrupting others. The diary, filled with fragments of Voldemort’s past and his malevolent influence, could symbolize the appendix – a seemingly obsolete organ with a capacity for causing trouble, much like how the diary was used to manipulate and cause harm. Just as the diary was a vessel for spreading chaos, the appendix represents a vestigial remnant that could pose problems.
  3. Marvolo Gaunt’s ring (Coccyx, aka Tailbone): Marvolo Gaunt’s ring, a symbol of Voldemort’s unwanted lineage, aligns with the coccyx (tailbone)—a remnant of our evolutionary past. The coccyx, while providing an anchor for certain muscles, is largely redundant in humans (due to our ability to walk upright). Similarly, the ring is a relic of Voldemort’s heritage, carrying a deep connection to his family and past.
  4. Salazar Slytherin’s locket (Wisdom teeth): the locket, representing Voldemort’s legacy and a hidden source of dark power, parallels the wisdom teeth – evolutionary relics representing a bygone evolutionary feature. Wisdom teeth, which can create dental problems and require removal, mirror the locket’s role as a concealed and potentially troublesome artefact.
  5. Nagini (Plica semilunaris): Nagini, Voldemort’s snake companion, symbolizes a streamlined and efficient form, much like the serpent itself, which has evolved to possess minimal unnecessary features. This parallels the plica semilunaris, a small fold of tissue in the eye that serves no essential function.
  6. Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem (Palmaris longus muscle): the diadem represents an element of knowledge that is less about physical utility and more about symbolic significance. Similarly, the palmaris longus muscle, though not critical for hand function, is a superfluous remnant of our evolutionary history.
  7. Voldemort himself (Erector Pili muscles): the fragment of Voldemort’s soul residing within his own body symbolizes his ultimate quest for perfection. This aligns with the erector pili muscles, which are vestigial and responsible for causing goosebumps – an insignificant feature with minimal impact on physical abilities.

Conclusion

In tracing these connections between dark magic, Horcruxes, and vestigial organs, I found myself immersed in a world where every discomfort could be eradicated with a wave of a wand or a sip of a potion. The thought of Voldemort, a wizard who could manipulate life and death, struggling with something as mundane as sinus problems, was both amusing and sobering.

But while dissecting these possibilities and mysticalities surrounding the dark arts and their potential solutions, I am once again humbled by the undeniable truth and a growing sense of irony: I am, and will always be a mere Muggle.

It made me realize how much we, as Muggles, long for that kind of control over our bodies and our health. As much as I’d like to believe that a simple incantation or a powerful potion (or a Horcrux for that matter) could banish my ailments, I know that my path to recovery lies not in the magical but in the practical.

There’s something almost poetic about accepting this reality; it’s a reminder that while the allure of magic is strong, the true magic lies in the advances of modern medicine and the timeless wisdom of traditional remedies. Whether it’s following through with prescribed medications, trying another home remedy, or simply giving my body the time it needs to heal, these actions are my form of magic.

So, while I may never unlock the secrets of the darkest arts or wield a wand with the power to cure all ills, I find solace in the fact that the magic I seek is within reach. It’s not in the pages of a grimoire, but in the small, everyday actions I take to care for myself. And that, in its own way, is a kind of magic—one that doesn’t need a wand, but just a little faith and a hell lot of determination.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s all a matter of choice. Do I take the red pill or the blue pill...