Harry has Hedwig, Hermione's got Crookshanks, and Neville keeps company with his beloved toad, Trevor. Like owls and cats, toads have long been associated with witches and sorcerers in popular legend and lore. Although there's little doubt that Trevor is a very nice fellow, most toads have a rather unsavory reputation.
      During the years of witch persecution in seventeenth-century England and Scotland, witches were said to keep toads as "familiars"--minor demons disguised as animals who could be sent out to perform all manner of mishief for their mistresses. After all, how much easier for a toad than a witch to creep into a neighbour's well and poison the water or secretly place an evil charm under a victim's pillow? Toads were also rumoured to play an important role in the initiation ceremonies of new witches, who might be required to nurture or kiss toads as part of the process of pledging their allegiance to the Devil. Occasionally, witches were said to transform into toads themselves.
      In testimony given at witch trials, some witnesses claimed to have seen witches baptise and name their toads, dressing them up in black or scarlet velvet outfits and tying little bells to their feet. Such care suggested that witches were quite attached to their pets, and many people believed it risky to harm a toad, lest it be a witch's warty pal. One tale from Somerset, England, recounts how an old woman went out for a walk carrying her three pet toads, Duke, Dick, and Merryboy, in a basket. When she stopped to watch three farmers at work cutting wheat, one toad escaped and jumped into the path of a farmer's scythe. Laughing, the farmer let the blade fall upon the toad, killing it. "I'll show you!" cried the woman. "None of you will finish today's work!" Within moments, the first farmer had sliced his hand with his scythe. Soon the second man cut across the toe of his boot with his blade, and then the third sliced his own boot open from one side to the other. Frightened, the farmers fled the field, leaving day's work left undone.
      According to some popular lore, however, the relationship between witches and toads wasn't always so loving. Any toad not lucky enough to be kept as a pampered pet was believed to be raw material for brewing potions and casting spells. To do away with an enemy, a witch might baptise a toad with the enemy's name and then kill the toad in a particularly unpleasant manner. Wherever the human victim was, he would supposedly suffer the same fate. To make themselves invisible, witches were rumoured to apply a skin lotion made of toad saliva mixed with the sap of the sowthistle plant.

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Toadstones
Can't afford a diamon? How about a toadstone? These gray or light brown stones may not sparkle in the sunlight, but legend holds that these magical objects change colour or temperature in the presence of poison. Generally worn set in rings or other jewelry, toadstones were popular during the Middle Ages, when they were said to come from inside the heads of very old toads.
      According to tradition, a toadstone could be extracted from a toad's head if necessary, but the toad might obligingly vomit up his treasure if asked. If someone gave you a toadstone ring, you could find out whether the stone was real by placing it in front of a toad. If he leaped forward, it was genuine; if he turned away in disdain, it was a fraud (in reality, all toadstones were simply ordinary stones of a colour and shape that vagely resembled a toad).
      In addition to serving as poison detectors, toadstones were valued as talismans to attain perfect happiness and bring victory in battle. They were also used as amulets to protect houses and boats from harm and were believed to have curative value when laid against bites and stings.

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      The widespread idea that toads were standard ingredients in noxious potions probably stems from the fact that the creatures do secrete a mild poison when alarmed. The effects of this natural defense mechanism were often exaggerated, as evidenced by the claim of the third-century Roman writer Aelian that a drink of wine mixed with toad's blood would cause instant death. In 1591, a group of confessed witches admitted to plotting to poison King James VI of Scotland by soaking a piece of his clothing in the venom of a black toad. The plot failed, they said, because they had been unable to obtain an appropriate garment. But they insisted that if they succeeded the king would have died in great agony (instead, he lived to become King of England and write his Demonology, a book endorsing the continued persecution of witches).
      As a result of the toad's long-standing link with witchcraft, close association with toads has generally been considered risky. Even the mere gaze of these little amphibians was thought dangerous by some as recently as the eighteenth century, when it was said to cause sudden fainting spells, palpitations, and convulsions. Toads were also said to bite cattle and other livestock, causing disease. Yet getting rid of these pests was no simple matter. Even if there were no witches around one might hesitate to kill a toad, since doing so was thought to bring on thunderstorms. And if you had thoughts about simply relocating the creatures, well, handling them was never advised. After all, you might get warts.