After Mary had left us, Nel and I had relocated to the Leaky Cauldron for a quick chat. Not that I let her do much talking. I had her over a barrel and she knew it, and even if I wasn't exactly angry with her that didn't mean I wouldn't take advantage of this opportunity. Nel, up to this point in time, had mostly been a spectator, satisfied to sit around my lab and watch me work. That was now at an end. With her little theft, she had shown me that she had a talent for enchanting, however rough it might be at the moment, and that was a talent I could make use of. She would be helping me with my work and in return, she would be allowed to crib off my notes as much as she wanted. So long as she didn't spread it around. I'd train her up of course, even if she didn't seem too enthusiastic about the prospect.
I did not doubt that she'd drag her feet all she could. For a Hufflepuff, she really didn't seem to go in for the whole "hard work" part of the house motto. I'd have to see if loyalty is still a quality she possessed, the Hat had to have had some reason for putting her in that house.
I was willing to gamble that she had some loyalty to give, I just had to figure out who or what commanded it at the moment, if any.
After our little chat, we parted ways, Nel for parts unknown and me, well I headed for Lys's house, or nearby anyway. While I'd spent time there at the beginning of summer I'd not had time to get a closer look at the Mists of Avalon. Something I was planning on rectifying presently. My destination was Tintagel Island, the one point where the Mists touched land.
It took me about half an hour for me to reach my destination and I landed in the ruins of Tintagel castle that were located on the island's northeastern point, where it met the mainland. Back home they've excavated a large part of the foundations of the castle if memory served, here there were just some loose stones and some remaining walls to bear witness to a structure that had been built during the reign of Britain's greatest king. And above it, all towered the Mists, capital M of course.
I admit it was an impressive sight and an even more impressive achievement.
The Mists of Avalon!
Merlin's last and arguably greatest spell.
And he had a few he could brag about.
Current magical understanding could only begin to guess what had gone into it, and most of it was probably wrong. It had certain similarities to the Fidelius, at least when it came to muggles. To them, this place didn't even exist. No muggle could approach within five miles of this place without vanishing, only to appear either at the same place they disappeared or somewhere else, entirely unaware of what had happened to them. This included shipping that passed through the space that Avalon occupied. I found that interesting, not the vanishing in of itself, but the time between disappearance and reappearance. I wanted to study the phenomena bit closer since it was not explored by the sources I'd read thus far, wizards having little interest in what happened to muggles.
But the time differential suggested several possible causes. All of them very exciting.
Wizards could approach the Mists without any problem, though few ever came this close, finding the sight and... legend... of the place to be disconcerting. As one might imagine any spell crafted by the Prince of Enchanters would be of interest to pretty much any wizard worth his salt. Not to mention, the one that managed to break through the Mists would be able to lay claim to the fabled riches of Camelot and the legendary library of Merlin that was rumored to be held within. Many through the centuries had tried to find a way through, none had succeeded, and all of them had vanished, some entirely, others had reemerged from the Mists years later, disoriented and having only experienced moments, others would come out old and decrepit, their minds gone dim with age.
Hell, even ghosts couldn't move past it, to them, it was a solid barrier entirely impassable, even when they tried to go through the ground. Merlin had thought of everything.
The interest in the Mists had dwindled since then, with only the foolish or desperate having anything to do with it. So only a couple of wizards tended to disappear into it each year.
I didn't feel particularly desperate, but I had been known to be foolish now and again. It can be damn entertaining to be foolish. And sometimes you even learn something. So I made my way in past the edges of the swirling eddies of water vapor until I reached a line of obelisks almost twice my height. These were new, they'd been placed here some two hundred years ago to mark where thing became... unsafe. Beyond the stones, the Mists became unnaturally thick. In normal fog, no matter how thick you still had some visibility, with your immediate surroundings appearing clear. But even standing just by the stones it was like I was standing in front of a gray wall.
I knew better than to stick my hand into that wall. There had been some hair-raising tales of people that had. It actually seemed that walking in was safer, those that did and had emerged had been in one piece at least. I took a few steps back and conjured a five-meter long wooden pole that I proceeded to stick into the wall of fog. I waved it around for a bit before pulling it out.
I blinked in surprise.
The end of the pole now had branches and leaves, and even what looked like apples growing out of it.
I pursed my lips in consideration before plucking one of the apples and then sticking the pole back into the fog wall and then wait a few moments before pulling it out again. I flinched back as I came face to face with a disembodied sheepshead.
I tossed the screaming head-staff into the mist and listened as the scream slowly trailed off as if it was falling into a bottomless chasm.
"Merlin, you crazy son-of-a-bitch, what the hell were you thinking when you made this?" I muttered to myself.
It was obviously some sort of transfigurative effect, something that was rare to see in this kind of situation. Using transfiguration in this way was thought by many as almost impossible. Only some very cursed items had ever been able to actually do it as far as most of the wizarding world was concerned. I knew there was another case, the Room of Requirement, and I was starting to suspect that Merlin might be responsible for that as well. No way of confirming that though.
I would have to ask some of the shades that knew him about it at some point. I'd already asked them about the Mists but they hadn't been able to give me any real insight into it since Merlin hadn't told anyone that he could actually do something like this. Apparently, he'd become somewhat reticent to sharing his knowledge after yet another of his lovers/students turned on his ass and tried to... do things to him. Apparently, Merlin was something of a alleycat. I think I'd read something to that effect back home, but I'm not sure. I might just have gotten it mixed up with an old anime or something. I did that sometimes.
Of course, none of that help me get any closer to figuring out what the Mists were, or how to get through it. Not that I expected to be able to. Merlin was rightfully heralded as a genius of enchanting, and I had just barely cracked a mastery. This was so far beyond me it wasn't even funny.
God, I was so fucking jealous I could just melt through the fucking ground!
This is what I want! To be able to do amazing shit that no one understands. Not some simple sleight of hand and coming up with the magical version of life-hacks. Sure, the average wizard is impressed as hell by it, but that doesn't mean anything. Wizards thought sparkplugs were impressive.
I walked some way back and sat down on a broken piece of wall and stared at the towering wall of mist and felt very small in comparison to its magical magnificence.
Some would say I'd done pretty well for myself considering my skill and knowledge, it was quite impressive for someone my apparent age, I'm sure they would say. But what did it matter in the face of something like this? I couldn't even begin to imagine how it might be constructed. What did it matter what I did if I couldn't see a way to go from where I was to... whatever that was? I leaned forward, clasping my hands, and stared down at the grass by my feet as a mounting sense of frustration threatened to overwhelm me.
I knew it was silly, to think like this.
It was stupid.
I knew it was stupid.
It wasn't sensible.
But people weren't sensible, even if they thought they were. We wanted stupid things and got discouraged for stupid reasons. We were the people that found ourselves sitting on the ruins of glories passed , looking to all the world like we were taking a shit while staring at our feet wondering where our life is going.
It doesn't sound like a very smart thing to me.
But then I never claimed to be smart.
I'm just not dumb.
Most of the time.
Except for when I find myself confronted with my own... lack. Oh, I know it hardly fair to compare myself to a genius like Merlin. He was the magical world's answer to Leonardo da Vinci. A true renaissance man. A legend in his own time, and beyond. Still, he was a man almost two thousand years removed from me and I had the benefit of modern education backing me, alongside the things I'd picked up since then, both in my old life and in this new one. One would think I could perform in a more... impressive... manner, able to do more than just pull the wool over gullible wizard's eyes.
I snapped to my feet and a ball of blazing bright plasma appeared on my upturned hand and with a roar of anger and frustration I sent it flying into the Mists, which parted momentarily, blasted apart by the heat and the power, before closing back up again as if nothing had happened. I stood there listening for a few moments, waiting for the telltale sound of an explosion as the attack landed on some unsuspecting terrain and detonated.
But there was only silence.
I snorted before bursting into laughter. I felt oddly lighter despite my inability to make an impression on the Mists. Perhaps one day I would be able to do more than just make it ripple, not today, but maybe one day. If I worked hard enough, that is. I might not be a genius, but as Rock Lee would say, you can always be a genius of hard work.
"I'll be back, you stupid excuse for a fart!" I called out, feeling a bit silly for talking to a piece of animate magic. But I did it anyway. "I'll figure you out, not for gold, not for knowledge, not for glory, but to just show you that I'm able!" I promised, still feeling silly, but still meaning it. I wanted to see what lay beyond that fog, for no other reason than to know, to sate my curiosity. God this place was doing a number on me.
With that I pushed off and floated into the air and away from the Mists, in the direction of Lys's village. Since I was in the neighborhood I might as well stop by and see what she'd been up to during the summer.
---
Silence reigned again on the small island that bore the name Tintagel, time once again seemed not to matter, the world appearing to be frozen in a single moment, unchanging and everlasting with only the faint sound of the wind and the slow swirl of the mist to tell that time still marched on.
The thick wall of fog swirled between the towering stone obelisks, as it had done for centuries before they were raised, unbothered unchanging. Until now. It started with a shimmering glow piercing through the thick fog, which parted to allow a shimmering ethereal form past. It appeared in the rough shape of a man clad in robes, made up of a brightly glowing ethereal energy that glowed far brighter than any ghost. His face was cloaked beneath a large hood from which the selfsame ethereal energy leaked.
just beyond the edge of the Mists and looked up at the dwindling form of the island's latest visitor as he faded into the distance. It stood there watching until he faded from sight then a sound like a sigh escaped it and it shook its head.
"'We shall see,' it said in a strange echoey voice before it turned and walked back into the Mists. Once again silence ruled over the island of Tintagel, and all was still.