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The expression “Zagreb’s Black School” (Črna škola in the local Kajkavian dialect) is the legendary folk name for Zagreb’s first seminary on Kaptol. Although the seminary was simply a place of education with no connection to magic, popular superstition and widespread illiteracy gave rise to stories that linked it with sorcery—and, above all, with the mysterious Thirteenth Year.

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The name “Black School” most likely originated from the black cassocks worn by its students. Their distinctive dark robes made such an impression on local people that the seminary itself became known as the Black School.

Another legend connected with the name concerns Franjo Filipović, a canon who converted to Islam after being captured by the Ottomans during the sixteenth century. He subsequently became known as Mehmed-beg Filipović. According to local tradition, when Bishop Juraj Drašković heard of his conversion, he cursed him and ordered his house to be painted black. The building was later converted into a seminary, but the popular name “Black School” remained.

According to folklore, however, the Black School was no ordinary seminary. It was believed to conceal a secret Thirteenth Year reserved for apprentices in the dark arts. In Croatian and neighbouring folk traditions, those who completed this mysterious final year became known as grabancijaši—literally, the students of the Black School.

The Thirteenth Year and the Devil’s Bargain

Ordinary priestly education was believed to last twelve years. Yet those who wished to master supernatural powers and black magic were said to enrol secretly in a hidden thirteenth year.

Some traditions claimed that these lessons took place underground in complete darkness, or within secret chambers hidden inside the Black School itself, where students spent years without ever seeing daylight. According to popular belief, the true teacher was none other than the Devil, while other versions speak of mysterious supernatural beings who taught their pupils the language of animals, magical spells, fortune-telling, and the ability to command storms.

Completing the Thirteenth Year transformed a student into a fully fledged grabancijaš. Yet this graduation came at a terrible cost. At the end of their studies, the Devil would claim one graduate to remain in his service—according to some stories by drawing lots—while the others were allowed to leave with their newly acquired magical powers.

The Powers of a Grabancijaš

Those who survived the Thirteenth Year were believed to possess extraordinary abilities. They could summon, calm, awaken or even ride a winged dragon using magical words. They were said to control storm clouds, hail and thunder, and to travel the world carrying a single enchanted book filled with powerful spells.

People believed that a grabancijaš could always be recognised by his appearance and unusual habits. His clothes were typically torn and shabby, and he carried nothing except a bag containing one remarkably thick magical book. Whenever he entered a village, he would ask only for fresh milk or kajmak (a traditional dairy delicacy similar to clotted cream). He avoided looking people directly in the eye, rarely spoke, and when he did, he muttered incomprehensible words in Latin.

Some regions even believed that grabancijaši were born with unusual physical features, such as a tiny tail or double rows of teeth.

Villagers feared them greatly. They usually gave them whatever they requested, believing that refusal would bring disaster upon their crops.

Masters of Storms

If a grabancijaš was offended—for example, if someone refused him milk—or if the Devil commanded him to mount his dragon among the clouds, violent storms and devastating hail would soon follow.

To defend themselves, people developed an entire repertoire of protective rituals. Church bells were rung, blessed candles lit, and counter-magic was performed by benevolent witches and folk healers.

One of the best-known customs involved carrying the household dining table into the courtyard. A loaf of bread and a bowl of salt were placed upon it, while an axe was driven into the ground in front of the table with its blade pointing towards the sky. The axe was believed to symbolically slice through the storm clouds and break the grabancijaš’s magical power.

A Legend with European Roots

This remarkable tradition is even more fascinating when viewed in its wider European context. Similar legendary figures appear across Central and Eastern Europe: the grabancijaš in Croatia and Hungary, the solomonari in Romania, and the črnošolci (“black-school students”) in Slovenia.

Historians and ethnologists generally agree that these legends probably reflect a very real medieval phenomenon. During the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, students from Croatia travelled to Europe’s great universities, including Bologna, Padua, Vienna and Prague.

When these young scholars eventually returned to their isolated rural communities, they brought with them heavy Latin books, unfamiliar scientific knowledge, strange vocabulary, and the ability to make educated predictions about the weather through astronomy and natural philosophy. After long journeys, they often appeared poor, exhausted and untidy.

To largely illiterate villagers, such learned travellers—with mysterious books written in an incomprehensible language—could only be graduates of the secret Thirteenth Year, men who had learned to command dragons and storms.

The legend became so deeply embedded in the folklore of north-western Croatia that it eventually entered Croatian literature. In 1804, the celebrated playwright Tituš Brezovački based his famous comedy Matijaš Grabancijaš Dijak on the legend. Its clever protagonist is precisely such a “graduate” of the Black School, using his supposed magical knowledge to outwit the superstitious people he encounters.

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Zagreb Zoo has one of the most romantic stories of how it came into being, and it all began with one man’s vision and just three animals.

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The Zoo is located in Maksimir Park, which was named after Zagreb Bishop Maksimilijan Vrhovac. The name Maksimir was coined from the phrase ‘Maksimilijanov mir’ (‘Maksimilijan’s peace’), symbolising the bishop’s wish to give the citizens a place to relax and enjoy nature on the site of what had once been the old episcopal forest.

The entire project to build the Zoo was not initiated by the state or a scientific institute, but by the sheer passion of one individual. Mijo Filipović was not a zoologist by profession, but a nature enthusiast who had spent years dreaming of giving Zagreb a window onto the wild. His enthusiasm was so infectious that he managed to get the whole city behind the idea at a time when there were far greater problems to deal with.

It all began on 27 June 1925, when Mijo Filipović, then director of a construction company, managed to convince the then Mayor of Zagreb, Vjekoslav Heinzel, that Zagreb, as a modern European metropolis, needed a zoo. Filipović insisted that the Zoo should be located within Maksimir Park because he wanted it to be more than just a place to look at animals – he wanted it to be a place for science and education. At the time, it was known as the ‘Zoological Museum’.

The Zoo’s first ‘residents’ were not exotic lions or elephants, but three foxes and two polar bears which Mijo Filipović received as a gift. They were housed on a small island in the middle of Maksimir Lake, which is still known today as Swan Island.

Between 1925 and 1926, the Zoo expanded at an astonishing pace. At first, it was not stocked by buying animals; instead, they were donated by citizens. People brought in injured birds, deer they had found, or unusual animals they had acquired while travelling. This created a strong emotional bond between Zagreb’s residents and the Zoo – it was literally ‘theirs’.

In the 1930s, some of the most recognisable structures that still stand today were built. The best known is Lion Bridge, with its lion statues, along with the towers that resemble castles, giving the Zoo a fairytale-like, ‘old Zagreb’ character. A special enclosure for monkeys was soon built as well, and they immediately became the Zoo’s biggest stars. An elephant also arrived during this period, becoming a real attraction.

The Zoo survived the Second World War, but by the end of the 20th century it was in very poor condition, with enclosures that were far too small. Major modernisation did not begin until the 2000s, when the cages were replaced with spacious enclosures designed to imitate the animals’ natural habitats.

The Case of the Zagreb Giraffe

One of the city’s great mysteries is why so many Zagreb residents insist that they saw a giraffe at the Zoo as children. Some remember seeing one, while for others it would have been impossible.

Since its foundation, the Zoo has kept detailed records of all its animals. Even today, its official website states under the ‘Questions and Answers’ section that the Zoo had a giraffe between 1955 and 1960. So after 1960, there was no giraffe at the Zoo. Yet the question remains: how did generations of children later remember seeing a giraffe that was no longer there?

Experts explain this through a phenomenon known as the Mandela Effect in a local context – a situation in which a large number of people share the same, highly specific, but incorrect memory. Experts suggest that there may have been confusion with camels or llamas, as camels and llamas lived for years in the old part of the Zoo, near the entrance. From a child’s perspective, these long-necked animals may have seemed ‘enormous’, and over the years that childhood memory could have transformed into the image of a giraffe.

There is also the influence of collective suggestion. When someone in a position of authority – a parent or an older brother or sister – says, ‘Do you remember how we saw the giraffe here?’, a child’s brain may create a false visual image to fill in the missing information.

The explanation may also be generational. Parents or older brothers and sisters may genuinely have seen a giraffe, while younger members of the family only heard about it.

Furthermore, most children’s ‘Zoo’ toy sets or picture books featured drawings of giraffes as a universal symbol of the zoo, which the brain could later associate with an actual visit.

Today, Zagreb Zoo – or the Wild Heart of the City, as we like to call it – has a historic reputation as the oldest zoo in south-eastern Europe. It ranks among the leading destinations for wildlife lovers in this part of Europe and remains Zagreb’s most popular destination for family walks.

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Imagine eighteenth-century Zagreb. As you walk through the dark, narrow streets of Gradec, it is not only cats that watch you from the rooftops, but fear itself. In those days, when “eyes seemed to grow in the darkness”, every unusual sound or a neighbour’s suspicious glance could become a death sentence.

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Even today, the roof of the Kamenita Vrata (Stone Gate) tower bears a reminder of those beliefs – a steel mace mounted with the intention of catching a witch’s cloak as she swept past on her broomstick in low flight.

According to popular belief and the accusations recorded in court, witches were thought to possess a wide range of powers that enabled them to influence everyday life. It was believed that they could transform themselves into animals, most commonly cats, flies, or birds such as crows and ravens, allowing them to spy on people unnoticed. They were also said to control the weather, conjuring hailstorms and tempests that destroyed crops while riding upon black clouds. Witches were reputed to brew potions capable of inspiring love or provoking hatred.

Official witch persecutions in Zagreb began in the fourteenth century, and the oldest surviving court record of a witchcraft trial dates from 1360. Although isolated cases had appeared earlier, systematic persecution and mass hysteria developed over several key periods.

The first recorded trial in Gradec took place in 1360 against Alice and Margaret. At that time, the accused still had the right to prove their innocence through the sworn testimony of jurors and were not subjected to torture. By the end of the fifteenth century, however, the publication of the papal bull Summis desiderantes affectibus (1484) and the notorious manual Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches, 1486) made persecutions across Europe – including those in Zagreb – increasingly brutal and dependent upon systematic torture.

Following the Church Synod of Trnava in 1611, which ordered regular preaching against witchcraft, the number of trials in Zagreb and the surrounding region rose dramatically. The late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries marked the height of the persecutions. Particularly infamous were city judges and captains such as Đuro Porta and Ivan Khayll, who between 1698 and 1705 conducted dozens of trials without delivering a single acquittal. Over the centuries, around 250 official witch trials were recorded in Zagreb (and possibly even more, according to some estimates), while at least 106 people were executed, most often by burning at the stake at the execution ground known as Zvezdišće, on the site of what is now the Tuškanac cinema.

Take the case of Matija Paun. Matija was a woman who chose to live and dress as a man. In a world that could not tolerate difference, this was declared “unnatural” and taken as proof of a pact with the Devil. Agata Golić, on the other hand, was pricked with needles by the judges as they searched for the so-called “Devil’s mark” – an ordinary mole that did not bleed was enough to condemn someone as a witch.

The courtroom itself was often the most terrifying place of all. Barica Cindrić, one of Zagreb’s best-known alleged witches, endured a living nightmare. At first she bravely remained silent, but after being stretched on the rack and tortured with fire, she confessed to anything – pacts with the Devil, witches’ sabbath at crossroads – simply to make the pain stop.

Yet in this dark story, one woman decided that matters could not continue in this way: Empress Maria Theresa. When the case of Magda Logomer Herucina reached her – a woman accused of turning herself into a fly and flying around sick people – the Empress declared, “Enough!”

Maria Theresa did not believe in witches; she believed in medicine and reason. She summoned Magda to Vienna, ordered physicians to examine her, and concluded that the accusations were nothing more than the products of ignorance and malice.

In order to put an end to the general madness and the flood of baseless accusations, a series of legal reforms concerning witch trials was gradually introduced. An ordinance issued in 1740 for the Austrian hereditary lands required that every death sentence in a witchcraft trial receive the Empress’s personal approval. In practice, this meant that every accused woman had to be taken to Vienna at the expense of the town bringing the charges.

Under her influence, the Croatian Parliament passed a law on 26 March 1756 requiring that all death sentences for witchcraft handed down in Croatia be submitted to the Empress for confirmation. As she never approved a single such sentence, the trials effectively came to an end.

The new criminal code of 1768, the Constitutio Criminalis Theresiana, significantly tightened the standards of evidence in cases involving alleged magic, making convictions almost impossible. The abolition of torture in 1776 delivered the final blow to the witch trials.