The First Lessons of the Mist
"Alright, today, for our first lesson, I will explain the principles of magic—both the magic of the wizarding world… and the Mist," said Mor, still seated in her dark chair, her calm voice hiding an unsettling undertone.
Harry and Sally watched her attentively, expectant. Nearby, the house-elf quickly waved her hands and, with a flicker of magic, created a chair for Sally, as if to prove her usefulness at every moment.
"Thank you," said Sally with a sincere smile. That simple show of gratitude was enough to make the elf burst into tears of emotion.
"Leave that for later," Mor cut in at once, shooting her a look that silenced the crying immediately.
"What is the Mist?" Harry asked without hesitation, his eyes shining with curiosity.
Mor smiled at the boy's eagerness.
"The Mist is a presence that surrounds the world, an invisible veil that hides the truth from mortal eyes. If, for example, a great dragon stood right in front of a group of humans, what they would see would only be a garbage truck. Or if two sorcerers fought, destroying everything in their path, the Mist would make it seem like a simple accident—damage to the buildings, or a common fire. Of course, sometimes mortals can see through it, and that's why one must never use magic before them without proper control."
"Is that how the wizarding world stays hidden from mortal eyes?" Harry asked again, even more interested.
"More or less," Mor replied, leaning back in her chair with a thoughtful air. "In truth, witches and wizards were born from the same principles as those who once controlled the Mist. Over time, however, they drifted away from that true art, developing another kind of magic. A magic still connected to the Mist, but to a lesser degree. To put it simply: controlling the Mist to create illusions and turn them real is the very foundation of magic itself. Wizards and witches do not consciously feel the Mist, though they are born with a slight bond to it through their ancestors. That is why some children of mortals, with no magical bloodline, awaken powers: they are born with a natural connection to the Mist. And those children are often more powerful than many born into wizarding families, because they didn't inherit their magic… they awakened it themselves."
Mor paused for a moment, her face twisting in distaste.
"But that's another conversation entirely. And I have no intention of wasting words on an old snake-headed fool who always hid behind talk of blood purity, without ever understanding anything," she added, her tone dripping with contempt.
Sally, intrigued, asked:
"So you're saying that if someone could connect with the Mist, they could use magic even without being a witch or wizard?"
"Yes," Mor answered firmly. "Though it's not as simple as it sounds. One needs immense willpower to sense and manipulate the Mist. In some cases, objects that act as conduits or amplifiers are also required." Her eyes shifted toward the black tome Sally always kept close at hand.
"Like that book. It is very much like a wizard's wand: an enhancer. If you learn with me, you'll be able to cast magic without relying on it, but for now you should carry it with you at all times. And don't worry: no one can touch it except you and your children."
Mor clapped her hands lightly, steering the lesson back on track.
"The power of the Mist is capricious. It does not answer to a wand, but to will and wit. It is more of a pact with illusion itself, a training to guide what others see and feel. And if you master it completely, illusions cease to be illusions: they become real, capable of altering reality itself."
As she spoke, she raised her hand. A black cat, first ethereal like a specter, took shape in the air. The creature passed through Harry and Sally like smoke, then slowly solidified into a real animal. It meowed softly before darting out through the door.
Harry and Sally's eyes widened in fascination. Mor allowed herself the faintest smile, pleased by their reaction.
"Now, let us begin. Close your eyes and try to feel the Mist."
…
Harry and Sally sat with eyes closed, concentrating on perceiving something beyond the visible. Percy, on the other hand, lay sprawled on the floor, panting from exhaustion. Still, every time Einjard ordered him to rise, the boy obeyed without complaint, again and again. The goblin watched in silence, and for the first time, a faint smile curved his lips: the boy had the willpower, and that alone was enough to decide that, when the time came, he would truly teach him.
For today, however, he would let him rest.
"Well, you're not exactly gentle with a six-year-old. Aren't you afraid his father might come looking for trouble?" came Mor's mocking voice suddenly, as she appeared right behind Einjard.
The goblin flinched before turning to face her. His expression remained its usual scowl, but in his eyes flickered a spark of fear. He quickly bowed in a formal salute, placing one hand over his chest.
"Lady Mor…" He began to pronounce her full name, but stopped at once when he saw the dark gleam in her eyes. "It is an honor to see you after so long," he added, his manners forced.
"Stop that. With your face, it doesn't suit you at all," Mor replied, waving her hand dismissively.
Einjard was about to sigh in relief, until her next words froze him.
"I heard the goblins have been making deals with the Underworld… and not precisely with our goddess."
The goblin paled, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
"It is true… our people needed to expand the mines deeper underground, so we asked for permission. Our goddess granted it," he answered quickly, with a nervous edge to his voice.
Mor stared at him intently. At her feet, the shadows began to stir, as if ready to devour him. But suddenly, she burst into laughter.
"Hahaha… it was a joke. I already knew. I just enjoy seeing you so scared. That face of yours, always so stern and grumpy, becomes much more entertaining when it trembles."
Einjard pressed his lips tightly together. He had much to say, but chose to keep it to himself.
"The last time we met was during the second… or perhaps the third goblin war, wasn't it?" Mor said calmly, though her words fell like lead.
"Yes, my lady. And I am very grateful that you and the other wizards did not take part in that battle. Otherwise, my people would have been wiped out completely. I couldn't stop my king, so I resigned as his general some time later. I didn't want my people destroyed by his blind ambition," replied Einjard with a seriousness he rarely showed.
"I see… no wonder so few of you remain. I suppose only those who chose to follow you survived," Mor commented with tranquility, as if speaking of a distant memory. "I imagine you no longer attempt to expand on the surface, to avoid clashing again with wizards."
"But never forget where you come from… and why the wizarding world exists," she added with a piercing look, before turning and walking calmly toward where Sally and Harry were, as if nothing had happened.
"Fuu…" Einjard let out a weary sigh. "Of course I know. I never wished to tie myself to any of those troublesome gods either. But if she herself sent me here… then without a doubt, she has something planned." His eyes landed on Percy, who had fallen asleep on the ground. "I wonder why she sent me to his uncle… and not his father." With a flick of his hand, he made the boy float, carrying him gently toward the house.
—
The month flew by, and the new family routine settled in curiously.
Einjard came every single day without fail to train Percy, who began to wield the sword with surprising discipline for his age. Sally and Harry, for their part, had managed to sense the Mist and even create basic illusions. Mor seemed more interested in teaching them control than in teaching them complex spells, always repeating the same lesson:
"Control defeats even the most powerful spell if it is cast without mastery."
That teaching made sense, and both Sally and Harry continued practicing patiently. Mor had settled into an empty room of the house. But when Sally entered it for the first time to speak with her, what she found left her frozen: beyond the door stretched an endless meadow, and in the distance, an enormous black castle. The contrast was terrifying, because in her memory that room was nothing more than a small storage shed.
The house-elf, Lia, also adapted quickly. She now took care of cleaning, washing clothes, and preparing breakfast. Percy and Harry had been greatly amused the day Lia discovered the household appliances… though soon she went from clumsy to a true master at using them.
Normally, magic interfered with electronic devices, but Mor made a simple adjustment in the house, and from then on everything worked perfectly. Even if something broke, it could be repaired with a simple touch of magic.
"Well, today I feel like going to Diagon Alley, after such a long time," Mor suddenly announced, while everyone was in the backyard. There, an improvised open-air classroom had been set up: a blackboard, study tables, benches, and also a training area for Percy, equipped with wooden dummies and practice swords.
At those words, Einjard froze mid-training. His wooden sword hung still in the air, and a look of fear crossed his face. He quickly walked over to Mor, his voice betraying a nervousness he could barely hide.
"Lady Mor… why do you need to go there? That place is full of witches and wizards. If I recall, you never liked crowded places. If you need something from the Alley, please, let me send one of my men… or perhaps the family's elf."
Mor glanced at him sideways and replied with her usual coldness:
"It's not that I dislike crowded places… I simply can't stand that they're full of idiots. And your concerns are absurd. I will not interfere with the wizarding world, nor with the mortal one. I don't have permission."
Einjard let out a sigh of relief, though unease still lingered in his eyes.
"Can we go with you, Aunt Mor?" Harry asked eagerly.
After a month of study, neither he nor Percy had returned to Diagon Alley, and they missed it. Their days had been filled with discipline: Percy trained by Einjard from dawn, Harry waking up even though his teacher only stirred in the afternoons, and Sally dedicating long hours to Mist exercises. Weekends were even more demanding, with study and training from sunrise to sunset.
Life had become exhausting, yet fascinating.
"Of course," Mor answered with a smile, squeezing Harry's cheeks. She had grown fond of him, and of Percy as well—whom she had secretly taught to manipulate water. To no one's real surprise, perhaps only to Sally and Harry, the boy had taken to it naturally, as if elemental magic flowed through him.
"We'll all go… except for the grumpy goblin," Mor added with a mocking smile.