Like all wizarding educational institutions, L'Université des Arts Magiques sorts its students into Houses upon their arrival — in the case of L'Université, their arrival at the secret door in the French Quarter. Unlike most wizarding educational institutions, however, the Houses of L'Université des Arts Magiques seem to have a great deal to do with pirates, dreadfully ugly architecture and ever-changing names.

All attendees of Phoenix Rising will receive an honorary House as part of their conference experience. Attendees should not feel that L'Université des Arts Magiques is trying to replace any other House affiliation they may have, and Phoenix Rising welcomes all colors, mascots and spirits of other Houses and institutions. Attendees should also not necessarily expect that the sorting process is accurate, as Phoenix Rising is using one of those Muggle computers to sort people as part of the registration process. Luckily, so much is happening at Phoenix Rising that attendees' honorary Houses need not play a large role during their conference experience; conversely, opportunities abound for participating in House activities, if attendees desire to do so, including vying for the traditional Pirate Gold prize in the House competition.

The following are brief histories of the Houses of L'Université des Arts Magiques. As you can see, each House focuses on a magical art and has a storied, colorful past.

Zodico | Pontalbòn | Bellereve | Lumién

Zodico House: Music
Head: Professor Christine Gengaro

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The Zodico House, easily the oldest of the four, was created in the bayous back when the school was still known as Éxchange Magique and its founder, Jacque Laurent, still lived. The House really wasn't much of a House at first — more like a happenstance. Gatherings of one particular group of students occurred every day as the Cajun students went back to their parents after school to enforced music practice. The unintended dissonance and the waltzes inexplicably played in common time drifted through the swamps to the other students of the Éxchange Magique, and jealousy was born in the bayou.

At first, the bemused Cajun students ignored the hard stares and snickering directed toward them. After all, they certainly didn't want to spend time practicing the fiddle instead of snogging during the Firefly Transformation Club meetings. As time passed, however, the musically inclined decided that they may as well have done what everyone thought they had: They formed the first House in the school's history. Named the Zodico House, they chose washboard player and Squib Alain Boudreaux as their Head of House and thus brought the ancient tradition of wizarding institutions to Louisiane territory. Sometimes, just to be obnoxious, they deliberately ignored key signatures in their daily practice and did a bit of snickering themselves as the other students' annoyed bellows echoed through the bayous.

Life in the swamp continued unabated with little to break up the monotony of hinkypunk pranks and the occasional duel or fistfight between the Zodicos and the other students — except for the discovery of Kelpies in the bayou waterways. One day, as Odette, the rather dreamy professor of Charms, wandered toward the edge of the bayou, a seemingly docile horse rose from the waters. Having never seen such a beast before — unsurprisingly, since they were allegedly only found in Ireland and England — Odette leapt onto its back, only to have the Kelpie dive to the bottom of the bayou. No one was particularly worked up about the loss of Odette, but the Zodicos were terribly excited to discover that, despite all research claiming that only a bridle could control a Kelpie, music calmed them remarkably. The Zodicos promptly adopted the Kelpie as their House mascot and made rather ugly swampwater-green shirts that proclaimed "Bayou Beasts."

Through the years, the Zodicos have used their status as the first House of L'Université des Arts Magiques to great effect, both in the magical world of music and in tormenting their fellow students. ("Bayou Beast" is said as frequently with pride as it is with scorn in the halls of the school.) No one can doubt the contributions that Zodicos have made to their art, however. Player pianos are the product of student Catalina Rodriguez, who insisted to her death that all Muggle versions should be burned for failing to maintain proper pitch, and the Practice Performer^TM, which pokes children rudely for wrong notes and incorrect rhythms, is a result of the school's prodigiously talented student body as well.

Perhaps the wildest time in the history of Zodico House was the famed Storyville era, though upon occasion L'Université tries to disguise what a large role its students played in embellishing the rise of "jass" music. Nightly, Zodico after Zodico would sneak out of the school's secret French Quarter entrance and stroll up to Rampart Street, returning in the wee hours to wake the gatekeeper while trying to get back in. Worst of all was Buddy Bolden, who not only snuck out each and every night, but woke everyone upon his return, his cornet blasts ringing through the school. (Muggles still haven't figured out that his legendary volume was the result of a Sonorus charm.) When the Storyville district was disbanded, the Zodicos mourned with a second line, though their unrivaled revelry again rang through the school when Louis Armstrong, a particularly popular student, was crowned king of Mardi Gras by the Zulu krewe.

The Zodicos haven't been any less raucous in the last half-century, though they are getting better about hiding it from the school's faculty — or at least compensating for it with their magical, musical accomplishments. Their place in the wizarding world of the arts is unparalleled, though the Zodicos still occasionally relish playing the wrong notes to annoy their rival students.

Zodico | Pontalbòn | Bellereve | Lumién

Pontalbòn House: Art and Architecture
Head: Professor Marjorie Manifold

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The Pontalbòn House was founded unceremoniously by Madam Amèlie D'Arvante in 1751 as part of her succession of Headmaster Laurent. Because she had moved the school to New Orleans proper and renamed it L'Université des Arts Magiques to disguise its true purpose, she brusquely decreed that "An art school must have an art department." And L'Université's second House, the Art House, was formed. (Even at the time, everyone admitted that the name was rather dull, and the other students mocked those in the Art House undeservedly for being a boring department in a magical arts university. The Art House crafted its revenge against some of those students, however, after the fire that destroyed the school in 1794. Asked to design the school's rebuild, the Art House, by then the Art and Architecture House, created the world's ugliest, most confusing building to house the Writing Department. Magical writing students have complained about the clashing colors and hidden exits ever since — at least those who have found the exits have. The Writing Department houses more than its fair share of ghosts and legend says that this is due to the building's design — though even today the Art and Architecture Students claim that the other houses have no sense of perspective, and thus cannot see the doors.)

The Pontalbòn House may well have had the greatest effect on the non-wizarding world of any of the school's Houses. When Madam D'Arvante founded the House in 1751, she didn't realize that the school would shortly experience a rather trying period, first with the Spanish control of Louisiane Territory and then with the fires that ravaged the French Quarter in 1788 and 1794. Twice New Orleans rebuilt her historical district, and twice surprisingly talented, surprisingly young architects and artists appeared seemingly from nowhere to lead the rebuilding effort. The architecture and design of the French Quarter today, with its heavy Spanish influence, wrought iron balconies and gracious exteriors, is almost entirely the work of L'Université's Art and Architecture House, from the Cabildo and the Presbytère to the Napoleon House. Occasionally, rumors crop up that the staircases in some of the Quarter's buildings move, but wizarding authorities claim to have the issue under control.

It wasn't until the 1850s that the Art and Architecture House finally acquired, in quick succession, both a true name and a mascot. The name was graciously donated by the Baroness de Pontalba, after she worked closely with several gifted architecture students on the construction of the famed Pontalba buildings in Jackson Square. (Some time later, the students spent several years blushing when they found that their namesake had such a crush on Andrew Jackson that she built him a particularly macho statue in that same Square.) The mascot of the Pontalbòn House is, of course, the Streeler. After the school imported one as a pet several years earlier, the art students, fascinated with its ever-changing, vivid colors, began to experiment with its venomous slime. Years of painstaking research passed — not to mention innumerable visits to the medical wing — and the Pontalbòn House created the famous Streeler Stains^TM, paints that change color in a variety of circumstances, such as the Seasonal Line, the Mood Line and the Annoy Your Neighbors Line.

Perhaps the high point — or the low point, if you ask anyone officially — of the Pontalbòn House's history is the attendance of John James Audubon. Audubon, according to Muggles, painted birds and allegedly, allegedly, mind you, naked portraits of respectable ladies of the French Quarter. Wizards, however, know better than to draw him so two-dimensionally. Audubon developed eternity paints. While before wizards had to have their paintings specially treated after completion to allow their subjects to move at will, Audubon's eternity paints illuminated the process; the allowance for movement was contained in the paints themselves. While the faculty like to laud the wizarding version of his famous book of birds, students tend to prefer the wizarding version of the naked ladies.

The Pontalbòn House spent much of the last century expanding its global reach, as its brilliant eternity paintings and visionary architecture have been in increasing demand. The Streeler Stains^TM, of course, are always popular, though from time to time the students of other Houses awake to find their buildings painted the traditional Pontalbòn turquoise.

Zodico | Pontalbòn | Bellereve | Lumién

Bellereve House: Writing
Head: Professor Roxanne Conrad

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No one is quite certain when the Bellereve House officially formed. L'Université des Arts Magiques has included writers of all genres and styles dating back to its days as Éxchange Magique, of course, but the writing program at that point consisted entirely of Headmaster Laurent's reciting dreadful free verse poetry while tossing water moccasins back into the bayou waters. The history of the Bellereve House is made more confusing by the number of name changes it has suffered over the years, from The House of Moste Lovelye Poetry and Storyes to the more succinct Writing Department. As the other students of the time would tell you, though, the poetry certainly wasn't lovely.

In fact, the members of the Writing House, for at least a century, seemed to have had a marked penchant for writing overwrought poetry, overblown fairy tales and — as the school finally admitted just last year — penny dreadfuls. Over the decades, the faculty managed to instill a strong foundation in all types of fiction and non-fiction writing, but the students have tenaciously held on to their love of adventure, romance and epic fantasy. Despite the faculty's best efforts — and to their never-ending embarrassment — even the best student works are sometimes turned in written on the back of parchment containing obvious authorial self-inserts.

The House continued in this manner for quite some time — having no name that stayed more than a decade or so, and no mascot — turning out some rather wonderful works of fiction written opposite a rather appalling variety of romance, mysteries and serials. Of course, during this time, Priscilla Peartree did invent the Amazing Book Customizer^TM. The ABC, as it was dubbed by teenaged girls, will customize any romance book for the reader based on his or her preferences, whether they are for swarthy pirates or rich rakes. Due to the amazing success of the ABC, Ms. Peartree left school, but her estate still ships each student in the Writing House an ABC at the start of the school year. (These are always in demand not just for their romantic use, but for the hilarious effects produced when an ABC is used in conjunction with student textbooks.)

The House finally adopted the Red Cap as its mascot after a particularly arduous poetry assignment. After Professor Inke insisted on a trope more mournful than an unfashionable ball gown in the Regency era, many of the students found themselves on the great battlefield that saw Captain Farrugut's great loss, grasping desperately for inspiration (not to mention a quill). The Red Caps were so prevalent, and the number of irritated students they had attempted to bludgeon so great, that the House immediately adopted the dwarf-like creature as its mascot. It was at this point in its history, though, that the Writing House finally came into its own. The school lured a string of brilliant Muggles, giants in their field, to teach writing, and the great names of Faulkner, Whitman, Percy, Chopin, Hellman, Williams and Toole wrung text after brilliant text out of the students. The school even forgave Enrique Delgado the ever-changing greeting card (Perfect for Any Wizarding Occasion^TM!) when it considered the fact that its writing department had quickly and unarguably become the training ground for the best and brightest of the wizarding world.

The name of the House today is, of course, the Bellereve House, named in honor of the great Tennessee Williams' greatest work, and after much snippy arguing about whether the House color should be "the red of a broken heart" or "the purple of prose", the school stepped in and declared it purple — and also declared that there would be no more revision of the House name, color, or mascot. The students still write pulp fiction, of course, but they intersperse it with works of profound virtuosity — and no one ever mentions how frequently the Pontalbòn students' names show up as villains in wizarding fiction of all kinds.

Zodico | Pontalbòn | Bellereve | Lumién

Lumién House: Storytelling, Theater and Film
Head: Professor Michael Bolton

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While the students of the Lumién House like to claim that their House is as old as time, the truth is that, while storytelling is as old as time, the tale of the Lumién House didn't officially begin until 1814. L'Université des Arts Magiques had many students during the early 1800s who weren't part of an established House, and a great many of those had taken to befriending a certain larger than life character, Mr. Jean Lafitte. Lafitte, being a rather accomplished wizard himself, had taken an interest in the school and was supporting it financially during America's early years controlling New Orleans. In return for his investment, he expected a certain amount of entertainment, and had taken to "plaguing" Headmaster Davis's tenure — in other words, shooting his pistols off while reeling about the corridors under the school, conducting raucous revels and encouraging the school houses into great rivalries by awarding the annual victor of the competition real pirate gold.

Lumién House started, to the disgrace of Headmaster Davis and the delight of the students, in the damp, moldy corridors below the school. First one student, then two, then five, then a raft of them — who had by this time taken to dressing in a rather dashing manner and affecting guttural accents — would gather to watch while Lafitte's pistol rang out and bullet after bullet marked the school. Eventually these gatherings were less about wanton destruction of property and more about camaraderie. Lafitte regaled the students with tales of the high seas, the students demonstrated their deplorable swordsmanship on cue and everyone drank rather a lot of rum. (In time, this also led to Lafitte's hiring the wizarding students to staff his Blacksmith Shop on Bourbon Street; he found their illegally performed memory charms worked better than the tavern itself in covering up his smuggling business.)

And it was around 1807 that the students officially petitioned Headmaster Davis to form the school's fourth house for players, performers, storytellers and general lovers of tales that might be more embellishment than truth. Headmaster Davis, horrified to see the far-ranging effects that the dastardly Lafitte was having on his fine institution of learning, denied their petition. The students petitioned again and again — splicing in a few more signatures each time — and again and again Davis denied it. This pattern continued to the annoyance of both parties until the Battle of New Orleans in early 1814. After Lafitte's undeniable patriotism, Davis finally relented and the Storytelling and Theater School was born. Unfortunately, the school lagged behind the other three in accomplishments on the stage of the magical arts. The students' antics kept them in the limelight (as did their eye patches), though sometimes in a negative way, and while they were unified under the memory of the great pirate, little else recommended their House or their department. It wasn't until nearly 1900 that the House found their true identity lay not in rum-soaked revelry, greasepaint and swords, but in film.

This advent came with the controversial appointment of Auguste and Louis Lumiére as visiting professors. While most of the faculty took the point of view that they were overgrown boys playacting at art, the world marveled at their introduction of "moving pictures." The students of L'Université were entranced and for the first time in their history, the Storytelling and Theater students resolved themselves to a purpose — though they still proceeded apace with the rum-soaked revelry and swords. L'Université began to turn out one advancement in the magical world of film after another, from MagiColor Film^TM to Ad-Libbing Audio^TM to the Ever-Changing Ending Editor (View a New Denouement Every Time^TM!). In fact, it was while the students were experimenting with the effect of magical fire on playback lighting that the House gained its mascot: the Ashwinder. (This also gave rise to the complaints of other students that the Lumién students' newfound popularity was due entirely to love potions.)

The students named their House after the beloved Lumiéres, and the storytelling, theater and film program has become unparalleled in the magical world. The gold color that the House adopted as its own instantly identifies a work as one of high quality. The rum still flows, the swords still clash and only occasionally do the Lumién students release embarrassing documentaries of their fellow students.

Zodico | Pontalbòn | Bellereve | Lumién