Chapter 4 – The Ballad of Alfie Miller
…
Oh, the chaos one letter can inspire, a tired old man thought as he massaged his temples and desperately tried to tune out the rampant shouting echoing throughout the chamber.
He was remarkably unsuccessful.
"I cannot believe we are even discussing this!" the normally serene Grandmaster Manisha cried out in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "An overgrown pigeon shows up with some note, and suddenly we are actually considering sending my apprentice off to magic knows where?!" Her dark eyes seemed to flare with rage at the very notion as she glared at the high grandmaster. Oh, sure, blame me. That's entirely fair.
"Uh," Master Faraji eloquently interjected from where he stood with his hand on the shoulder of the boy in question. "Technically, he is my apprentice, Manisha."
Manisha ignored the feeble complaint. "So what if some other group wants to teach him? We claimed him first, and he is excelling here! And now you propose to simply loan him out at the first request? My apprentice is not a sweater!"
"Still my apprentice, Manisha." Yes, please keep provoking her, Master Faraji. That can only help.
"He has worked too long and too hard to deserve to just be cast aside like yesterday's trash. And I absolutely will not allow some backwater mages to ruin my apprentice's potential just so they can teach him a few parlor tricks!"
"Manisha! Seriously! He's my apprentice! Get your own!"
"Oh, let it go, Far," Asa responded for the still-fuming Manisha. "No-one's listening to you anyways."
"Big surprise," Faraji mumbled with a pout.
"I must agree with Grandmaster Manisha," Takeshi joined in. "If not about the part where he is her apprentice." He placed a hand possessively on the boy's other shoulder while shooting Manisha a dirty look, which she returned in kind. "Nevertheless, he is a part of this monastery. This other school has no claim over him, and even if they did, it would hardly matter. By now, he wouldn't even be capable of learning their magic anyway." Grandmaster Takashi finished speaking with a satisfied look on his face, sure that his point would close this conversation.
That wasn't exactly an unreasonable expectation. A child's magical core went through a great deal of development throughout their formative years, and by a certain age, this left a child very well suited to certain styles of magic, but largely incapable of using others. Not a single member of this monastery would manage anything more than a few sparks with a wand, just as few wand-wielders would be capable of replicating any of their own talents. But of course, nothing is ever so simple when this one is concerned, is it?
He gave up on his headache and spoke aloud for the first time. "He can use their magic."
Dead silence greeted his comment. Hmm. Maybe I should have started with that, he pondered in amusement.
"He what?" Grandmaster Takashi asked quietly as he tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder, suddenly far less sure of his position.
The old man's eyes flared with light as he gazed on the boy's utterly strange core once more. "His core retains the ability to learn wand-based magic." Among other things, he noted dryly as his eyes lost their mystical sheen and his vision returned to the mundane. He shook his head and chuckled with amusement as the boy yet again simply ignored the proven rules of what should be possible, and as always, without the slightest inkling he had done so. He almost laughed outright as Master Faraji slumped in exasperation and exhaustion, clearly noting that very same trend.
Grandmaster Takashi, by contrast, seemed determined to match Grandmaster Manisha in fury. "So what?" Takashi snapped. "He may be able to use their magic, but that doesn't mean he is one of them. It doesn't even mean he should be one of them. His place is here. His teachers are here! We are here! His path! Is! Here!"
"What he said!" Faraji chimed in cheerfully.
Grandmaster Takashi shut his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. "Yes, thank you for that … stirring display of support, Master Faraji."
"You are mistaken," a whispery voice suddenly spoke up from the back of the room. The assembled mages stepped aside as it did, revealing Grandmaster Virgil staring at the boy in question. And beyond. Yes, please join in, Virgil. Things were almost getting boring around here, and magic knows we can't have that!
"What do you mean?" Grandmaster Takashi demanded.
The Grandmaster of Spirit never turned from the boy, but he answered all the same. "His path lies far beyond these walls. We are a stepping stone, one of many. He must set forth and seek another stone so that he may begin his trials in earnest. He must prepare to embrace his mantle before all is lost in darkness' shroud. It is time." With that, he once again turned and walked away.
The room grew silent once more, as no-one quite seemed to know how to respond this odd proclamation, though Master Faraji certainly gave it his best effort. "Thank you, Grandmaster Virgil, for more of your drive-by weirdness," Faraji called after him. "I don't know how we'd manage without you."
"Rather boringly, I'd imagine," Grandmaster Feng spoke up. Exactly my point.
"So that's it?" Grandmaster Takashi snarled, turning on Faraji. "A couple of lame jokes are all you have? He is officially your apprentice, as you seem so fond of pointing out. And now that there's talk of sending him away, you stand there like even more of a useless lump than usual. Do you truly have nothing to say about this?!"
"At the moment, no," Master Faraji replied blandly, which took everyone aback, especially Takashi. "So far, this conversation has really just been a waste of words. This other school wants him? Fine. We don't want him to go? Great. The Grandmaster of Loony Statements claims it's his destiny to go or some such crap? Whatever. Until someone actually wants to ask the kid what he wants to do, all of this is pointless. At the end of the day, his opinion is the only thing that matters in this."
A number of the assembled grandmasters blinked at that, realizing that they had yet to even ask the boy about his feelings on all of this. The more observant ones noticed that he hadn't even spoken this entire time. As all of this chaos raged around him, the boy never even stirred. He simply continued to stare at the letter in his hands while mouthing the strange name that had apparently once been his, all the while with an unreadable look on his face.
Everyone remained quiet as Master Faraji knelt in front of the boy and gently lowered the letter in his hands, forcing the boy to raise his eyes for the first time. "Hey, kid," he said quietly.
The boy's reply sounded almost as distant as Grandmaster Virgil. "Hey, Far."
The dark-skinned master gave the boy a gentle smile. "Did you catch any of this?"
The boy nodded slowly. "A bit. I never knew Grandmaster Manisha could yell like that." Manisha blushed furiously in embarrassment as a number of people chuckled. Sadly, this is not exactly a revelation for all of us, the old man though with chagrin.
Faraji grinned a bit at the boy's comment before his expression turned somber once more. "So how do you feel about all this? What are you thinking?"
The boy's eyes dropped to the letter in his hands once more. "I … don't know. This whole thing is … it's weird. I'm guessing this is where I would have gone if things had … gone differently. I would have been a different person, with a different name, learning a different type of magic. It's strange."
Faraji nodded, but didn't say anything, allowing the boy to continue.
"I'm … curious," the boy continued, his brow furrowed in thought. "What kind of mage would I have been if I had gone there? What would I have learned? Would I have been stronger than I am now?" He turned to the high grandmaster. "Is their magic any good?"
The old man snorted at the question. "Like all styles of magic, it has its strengths, and it has its weaknesses. There are things they can do that we cannot, just as there are things we can do that they cannot."
The boy's eyes shined at that. "But I can? I can learn to do the things they can do that we normally can't?"
Always determined to improve yourself, aren't you? "Yes, you can." The boy smiled brightly at that.
Faraji spoke up once more. "So you're decided? You want to go?"
The boy thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. I don't want to go. I want to stay. I want to keep learning all you have to teach me. I want to help Takashi develop new techniques for arcana." Takashi took on a small, proud smile at that. "I want to see how much I can nettle Grandmaster Cyrus before he snaps and just starts chucking lightning bolts at everything that moves."
"I knew it!" Cyrus exclaimed, to much laughter.
The boy smiled as he continued. "I want to see if I can get Grandmaster Manisha to yell like that again."
"Don't count on it," Manisha replied serenely, having regained her poise. Mm-hmm. You keep telling yourself that, Manisha.
The boy turned to another member of the crowd. "I want to see if I can finally get Grandmaster Tasya to smile."
The tattooed woman shook her head at that, but her cold eyes almost seemed to flash with warmth.
The boy grinned at her. "And I want to see if Grandmaster Adriane will finally try to strangle her sister, or whether Grandmaster Rilla will be the one to snap first." Several of the assembled masters laughed at that, though the sisters in question looked a bit less than pleased. Personally, my money's on Adriane, the old man thought. Kalen even gave me some pretty good odds.
"But," the boy continued, slowly growing serious, "I want to learn this new magic even more."
Faraji nodded understandingly. "I get it. It's a part of your heritage. Of course you want to learn about it."
"Huh?" The boy looked confused at that. "No, I just need to find an edge so I can actually stand a chance against you when we spar." Strangely enough, this comment was followed by an odd coughing fit overtaking several of those around them, the old man included. Grandmaster Feng seemed to catch the worst of it, though, and he had to leave the chamber shaking like a leaf.
"Is he alright?" the boy asked in concern as a loud braying noise that sounded almost like hysterical laughter echoed back into the chamber from the hallway Feng had fled through. Smooth, Feng. Very smooth.
"For the moment," Master Faraji muttered while glaring at the entryway.
Even the high grandmaster had to struggle to compose himself before continuing. "So, you have made your decision? You wish to attend this school?"
The boy gave a resolute nod. "I do."
The old man nodded in return. "Then I officially name this your first trial. You will join their world and learn all you can. When you return, we will judge your success and continue your training."
"I won't let you down," the boy said resolutely. The old man smiled at that. As if there was ever any doubt.
Faraji clapped the boy on the shoulder. "I guess we'd better get our stuff together, shouldn't we? If we hurry, we should be able to make it out of here before dinner."
The high grandmaster cleared his throat. "You will not be going, Master Faraji."
Faraji paused at those words. "I'm sorry, I think I must have caught that in my crazy ear. Do you mind repeating it in the one that makes sense?"
"This is your apprentice's trial," he explained. "It calls for him to grow not only as a mage, but as a person as well. He cannot accomplish this with his master at his side, no matter how much you might wish to be there. You must stay and allow him to go forth alone."
The master and apprentice looked at each other before Master Faraji turned back to the high grandmaster. "But I don't wanna."
The old man rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Tough, Master Faraji."
The dark-skinned mage looked like he had another retort to make, likely just as eloquent and mature as the last, but his apprentice gently grabbed his arm to stop him. "It's alright, Far. If this is my trial, then this is simply how it has to be."
Faraji opened his mouth to argue, but relented as he saw the determined expression on the boy's face. "Hey, aren't I supposed to be the mature one in this relationship?" he complained instead.
Loud, hysterical laughter greeted this statement, but it was the source of this laughter that was truly shocking. Everyone stared in stunned silence as the ever-serious Takashi doubled over with tears streaming down his face as loud guffaws continued to burst free.
"Did … did you know that Takashi could laugh?" the boy asked his master in wonder.
"Are you kidding me?" Faraji replied in amazement as Takashi continued his cackling. "I wasn't even completely sure he could smile. It's a miracle!" Faraji grinned. "Somewhere in the world, some cranky old angel must be getting his wings!"
"Yes, well … maybe we should leave and allow Grandmaster Takashi to … collect himself," the old man suggested.
"Good idea," Faraji agreed, as Takashi showed no sign of stopping. "Besides, we need to find that … what did Manisha call it … ah, 'overgrown pigeon,' don't we? That letter asked for a response."
"Oh, right, it did," the boy realized. "But, are you sure that bird'll be up to it? It didn't seem like it was in the best shape when it landed. Actually, 'crashed' would probably be more accurate."
"Oh yeah, it'll be fine," Faraji assured him. "After all, that's its job, isn't it? I'm sure it'll be happy to take our letter."
Several minutes later, a thoroughly bloodied Faraji stumbled out of the chamber where the half-frozen owl had apparently taken up residence in front of a roaring fireplace. Evidently, it took issue with the polite suggestion that it immediately leave to carry yet another letter halfway across the planet, and it most certainly did not appreciate being called "an overgrown pigeon." Given Faraji's battered and bloody appearance, it was also not shy about expressing its opinion on these matters.
"On second thought, maybe we should just let your arrival be a bit of a surprise," Faraji decided while making a staggering beeline for Asa.
"Whatever you say, master," his snickering apprentice replied.
"On a completely unrelated note, owls suck!"
One packing session and a flurry of bandages from a laughing Asa later, and everyone was gathered in the ritual chamber once more. It seemed fitting that the same chamber that had brought the boy to the monastery would be the same one to help him leave it for a time.
"I don't like this," Faraji complained quietly.
The high grandmaster turned to see the man watching his apprentice say his farewells to each of the grandmasters. "I know you don't, Master Faraji. But it is for the best," he assured him.
"Remind me again how that is?" Faraji asked somewhat bitterly.
The old man turned to watch Grandmaster Manisha clasp the boy's face between her hands and whisper something to him before wrapping him tightly in a hug. The young apprentice, having come a very long ways from the small, skittish child that had arrived in this chamber so long ago, returned the hug fiercely. The old man smiled at the sight. Finally, though, he responded to Faraji's question.
"You know of your apprentice's talent," he said quietly. "He absorbs every lesson with unheard-of ease. However, as rewarding as it is to watch him excel as he does, it is also dangerous."
Faraji turned to look at him at that. "Dangerous?"
The old man nodded, watching Grandmaster Kalen sneak a small parcel to the boy while trying to appear as if he simply happened to be standing in that part of the room and didn't even notice the boy standing next to him. Given that most everyone was currently watching the boy and those next to him, the red-haired Grandmaster of Weapons was about as successful as one would expect. The high grandmaster shook his head in amusement at the sight. Kalen may have many talents, but stealth is most certainly not one of them.
However, Faraji was still waiting for an answer. "You have done an admirable job of keeping him oblivious to the extent of his talent," the old man answered slowly, "and this is a good thing. It keeps him from being consumed by his ego, and it ensures he remains driven to improve himself." Faraji nodded, waiting for the old man to continue. "However, that very drive, as admirable as it is, poses a danger as well. If left unchecked, his endless desire to grow stronger could consume him more thoroughly than mere ego ever could."
Faraji frowned at that. "So, what, you want him to go so they'll slow him down?"
The old man shook his head. "Not at all. Like I said, his drive is admirable. I would not see his remarkable talent squandered, especially when he is so dedicated to fulfilling it. However, he must find more in his life to dedicate himself to. If all he has is his desire to grow as a mage, then he will never grow as a person. That sort of imbalance will leave him hollow and crippled, and he deserves more than that."
As he said this, he watched the boy walk towards Grandmaster Tasya, who, like always, stood surrounded by a void where no-one else entered. Except for a certain apprentice, apparently, who immediately reached out and embraced her in a hug, much to the surprise of those present, including her. However, surprised or no, she still reached out and returned the hug, albeit very stiffly and awkwardly. Given how he grinned at her, though, he appreciated it all the same.
"Is it really as bad as all that?" Faraji asked quietly.
The old man sighed. "Did you notice that he never really showed an interest in the name 'Harry Potter'?"
Faraji shrugged. "So what? He has a name. We gave it to him. They can call him whatever they like. It won't change who he is."
The high grandmaster shook his head. "That's not the point. The point is that he expressed little curiosity about the name, or the parents that must have given it to him, or really anything about his past, and that is unusual. His primary interest was not in how this school might provide him a link to those parts of himself, but solely in the magic he could learn there. This concerns me, because it suggests that his desire to grow as a mage might be slowly starting to eclipse everything else that makes him who he is. I want more for him than that."
Faraji looked deeply troubled. "What exactly do you hope for him to find in this school, then?"
The old man watched as Grandmaster Adriane began to open a portal. "Connection," he answered softly.
What, do they never dust this room or something, the boy wondered as he kept having to scrub at his watery eyes. Even cranky old Cyrus seemed to be feeling the effects as he gave a faint but audible sniffle after clapping him on the shoulder in farewell. Of course, he may have simply been experimenting with cooking again, horrifying though that thought may be. Magic knows he tended to use enough pepper to make even a dragon sneeze.
Grandmaster Takashi, of course, was too tough for mere dust or pepper to defeat him. "You have done well," the Japanese grandmaster said stiffly. "Remember who you are, and where you come from, and you will do well there, too."
He bowed in respect. "I will not let you down."
Takashi nodded. "See that you don't." He turned to walk away before he paused, and finally, he seemed to soften ever so slightly. "You make me proud. I want you to know that."
Stupid dust. "Thank you … master," he finally got out.
Takashi smiled at that before he returned to his normal stern gaze and nodded.
Finally, though, everyone had said goodbye. Except for two.
He looked over to see the high grandmaster speaking with Master Faraji. Gritting his teeth, and scrubbing at his damn dust-filled eyes, he walked over to them. "I'm ready."
The high grandmaster nodded. "So you are."
Faraji, meanwhile, knelt in front of him. "Hey, kid."
He smiled. "Hey, Far."
His master smiled back. "How you feeling about all this?"
"Nervous," he admitted. "I don't really know what to do over there."
Faraji chuckled. "Well, you being yourself has gotten you pretty far here. It might not be a bad start to try that over there as well. Just as a crazy idea."
He laughed. "Well, I guess it beats my plan to try being you. That would have probably gotten me kicked out."
The master and apprentice both laughed for a moment before reaching out and grasping the other in a hug. "I'm going to miss you, kid."
He sniffled. "I'm sure. Without me here, you might actually be forced to do some work, since you won't be able to pull out the old 'training the kid' excuse to get out of it."
Faraji gasped in horror as he let go. "Hey, that's not funny! That might actually happen!"
The old man helpfully chimed in. "In fact, you can count on it."
"Damn," Faraji muttered under his breath while his apprentice laughed at him. However, the moment quickly grew somber once more. "In all seriousness, kid," Faraji continued, "I may not be over there with you in person, but I'll still be there with you, you know?"
He nodded. "I know." He rolled up his right sleeve, once again revealing the brand encircling his upper arm. "I've still got your mark, remember? I couldn't get rid of you if I tried."
Faraji smiled. "Damn straight," he replied, clasping the mark on his own arm. "Oh," he added with a mischievous grin, "and don't be afraid to have some fun while you're there. Get into some trouble and wreak a little havoc. After all, you're still young. What exactly is the point of that if you're not making some stupid decisions?"
The boy laughed. "Once again, you carve your own unique niche as a mentor. I'm pretty sure other masters don't actually encourage stupid choices and trouble-making."
"Ugh, tell me about it," Faraji complained. "Old Master Liang never wanted me to have any fun when I was an apprentice!"
"For which I think the entire monastery and the world at large owes him a serious debt of thanks," he replied snarkily. "And maybe a medal."
"Hey, watch it, kid," Faraji warned. "I'm not above getting Adriane to make that portal drop you in a lake or something."
"You don't have to tell me, master," the boy replied, patting him on the cheek. "I know you're not."
Faraji snorted before clasping the kid in a hug once more. "Take care of yourself, kid."
"I will, Far."
He stepped back and took a breath to get control of his emotions before turning to the high grandmaster. "Do you have any advice for me?"
"I do," the old man replied while nodding sagely. "Do not look directly into the sun."
The boy gave him a very unimpressed look.
"Oh, alright," the old man relented with a grin. "How about this: Do not feel that you must make yourself an island while you are there. You may be strong on your own, but never quite as much as you would be with others at your side."
The boy nodded thoughtfully. "I'll remember that."
The high grandmaster smiled. "Then you will do well."
The young apprentice bowed deeply. "Thank you for everything, High Grandmaster. I will never forget it."
The old man placed a hand on the boy's head. "And you will always be welcome," he told the boy warmly. "Now, I believe you have a trial to embark on."
The boy swallowed nervously as he nodded and turned to face the portal. Unlike the one that sent Faraji to him, its interior was not black. Instead, it showed what looked like a dirty alley, and the faint, constant sounds of a living city drifted through the opening. He cast a baleful glance at Grandmaster Adriane for the exit point.
"Hey, you want to travel pretty, buy a plane ticket," Adriane responded.
The boy simply shook his head and stepped up to the portal.
"Teach you to suggest I'd ever be the one to snap first," she muttered under her breath. "Rilla is clearly the unstable one of the two of us."
The young apprentice didn't hear her, though. He was too busy standing at the edge of the portal, preparing to take the next step in his life, and yet having a bit of trouble getting his foot to actually leave the floor in order to do so. He tried taking a deep breath, but his feet still felt like they weighed a hundred pounds.
"Hey kid," he heard Faraji call from behind him.
He turned around, only to find his master wearing a disturbingly bright smile, which was absolutely never a good sign.
"You're stalling," Faraji said with barely restrained mirth. Uh-oh.
Alfie Miller was an upstanding citizen. He worked hard(-ish), he paid his taxes, he did all the things a man was supposed to do. So what did it hurt if he liked to have a pint or two now and again? Didn't he deserve that? Wasn't he entitled to a little fun with the boys and a nice tall glass of Guinness from time to time?
"Damn … ssstraight I am!" he loudly decided, wishing the bloody sidewalk would stop tilting on him. Last time it did that, he nearly fell and broke his bottle.
"Ssstupid Mar'fa izzz … prob'ly doon' it," he realized. Miserable old hag. Always going on about him drinking, always nagging at him to "put down the damn bottle and help out around the house!" And so now what does she do? She gets the flamin' sidewalk to try and pitch him to the ground to teach him a lesson.
"I'll ssshow her!" he yelled, utterly oblivious to how everyone else around him alternated between staring at him and avoiding any and all eye contact whatsoever. "I'll take … th' alley!" Foolproof plan, that was. His shrew of a wife may have rigged the bleedin' sidewalks, but she couldn't have gotten the alleys, too!
He ended up staggering into a couple as he turned towards the alley. Given their sounds of disgust, they must have been just as annoyed about what Martha was doing to the sidewalks as he was.
"'Nnoyin', innit?" he commiserated with the now speed-walking couple. "Course, 'twouldn't a' worked if not fer thizzz … bloody ear 'nfection I got." Sadly, the couple in question was well down the street by the time he finished explaining. Probably trying to find a sidewalk that hadn't been tampered with by vindictive wives. Understandable. Unfortunately for them, they didn't seem to have come up with his brilliant alley solution.
"Oh well," he hiccuped. "Not ev'r'one can be ssso 'nginiss– … ingenie– … ssso smart." Mollified, he turned and began heading down his chosen alley.
"Ha! Take that, Mar'fa!" he drawled victoriously while staggering along with one shoulder against the wall for stability. This calls for a victory sip, he decided, draining half the bottle in one go.
It was a big victory, after all.
However, after plodding down that alley for a time, he came across a curious sight. The wall up ahead was … rippling. Like a reflection in a pond after a pebble had been chucked at it. He jumped in shock as a bright light appeared in the center of those ripples before widening into a large ring as tall as a man.
Alfie stared at the freaky glowing ring.
It didn't go away.
He desperately chugged down the rest of his bottle.
It still didn't go away.
What was worse, he could even hear voices coming from it, and he swore he could see what looked like some weird room through the bloody thing, despite the fact that the wall was most certainly solid and roomless just a second ago.
However, the final straw for poor Alfie Miller's sanity was when someone actually came hurtling out of the damn circle shrieking its head off, right before the ring shrunk out of sight and vanished with one last ripple.
Alfie stared at the now solid wall, then at the strange person lying on the ground in a tangle of weird red clothing, then at the empty bottle in his hand. Utterly expressionless, he opened his hand and dropped the bottle to the ground before turning around and walking back the way he had come. Maybe I'll paint the fence like Martha's been asking, he pondered.
"Damn it, Faraji!" that red-robed tangle groaned, glaring at the now non-existent portal. "Oh, it's on now, master," he declared as he painfully clambered to his feet. Assuaged by the promise of future vengeance, he began the tedious process of cleaning himself up and trying to figure out just where in the world he was.
Literally.
Satisfied that his robes had been brushed about as clean as they were ever going to be, he started out towards the nearby street. Once there, though, he froze at what he found.
The monastery had its own pulse of life. Day after day, the place was filled with the steady sounds of weapons clacking in the training yard, or the faint crackle and hum of magic being cast, or the distant bellows of Grandmaster Cyrus cursing. These constant sounds filled the air like the beating of a heart or the movement of air in the lungs.
This was … a cacophony.
Everywhere around him, engines roared, horns honked, and people babbled. Eyes wide, he stared out at endless hive of activity as the breathless noise washed over him like a physical presence, soaking into every aspect of his being.
It was awesome.
Overwhelming, for sure. For someone who had known little else but the quiet thrum of life in the monastery, he could feel himself almost getting lost in the sheer volume of the experience, as if he had moved from a warm, still pond to an icy, raging sea. But just because he had never swam in the sea before, that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the rough and wild nature of its sheer presence.
So too did he swim through the crowd, buffeted on all sides by the noise of traffic and conversation spilling free from a million throats at once, and all the while being physically jostled by oblivious walkers and anxious businessmen like broken waves constantly pushing and pulling at him.
"Incredible," he breathed while trying to stare at everything at once.
Methinks I may be making a fashion statement, he thought in amusement as he started to notice that he was receiving more than a few looks from the slightly less oblivious members of the bustling, monochrome crowd around him. Given the (slightly dirtied) bright red color of his very-much-not-a-business-suit, he guessed it shouldn't be a surprise that he stood out just a tad.
Speaking of very-much-not-business-suits, he somehow doubted that he was going to find a magical community buried in the midst of rushing commuters and hungry office workers. Not a one of them looked like they'd be able to pull off a sweet set of robes. So where on earth was he supposed to be going?
Frowning, he broke free of the mildly gawking crowd and started towards yet another alley. As much as he had been relishing this new experience, he needed a bit of quiet and some space to breathe if he was going to find what he was looking for.
Strolling down the empty alley, he stared up at the rooftops high above. Perfect. Looking around quickly, he ducked out of sight behind a dustbin and quickly opened up a small portal. Stepping through it onto the rooftop of a nearby building, he paused and took a deep breath, feeling like he had been buried under water in the chaos of the street. An interesting experience city-life may have been, but he definitely wouldn't want it to be his everyday norm.
Belatedly looking around to make sure he was alone, he settled down on the gravel-covered rooftop to think. Well, they really wanted me to start my trial with an uphill climb, didn't they? I mean, would it have killed them to just drop me off in the magical community? Or maybe give me a map? Nooooo, let's just chuck our apprentice through a portal to some random-ass spot! Brilliant plan!
With a sigh, he sank himself more deeply into his power, needing a bit of comfort to offset his rising stress levels. While his power formed a constant presence flowing through his veins, it was still nice to embrace it more fully just for the sake of doing so. And so he once again luxuriated in the sauna-warm presence of his magic, already feeling himself relax.
"I know! I'll force-feed Faraji some of Cyrus' stew!"
Of course, to some people, fantasies of revenge were even more relaxing than magic.
Alright, let's see what we got, he began pondering after (regretfully) forcing himself back on topic. I need to find a magical community. I have absolutely no idea where they are or how they have hidden themselves, or even where I am exactly. I have no map, no directions, and no way of contacting them. I suppose I could just start marching down the street whistling and calling out "Wizards! Come here, wizards," but I somehow doubt that would work.
"Hell, while I'm at it, why not just challenge them to a game of Marco Polo?" he asked of no-one. Sighing more bitterly this time, he sank himself even more deeply into his magic, feeling it flicker and whirl around his inner self like flames around a log as he listened to it hum and sing its strange little song.
Suddenly, he froze, opening his eyes wide and staring at nothing while thinking furiously. "There's no way …" he started quietly while turning his inner eye inwards. "I mean, could it?" He stood there indecisively.
Aw, hell. It's not like I have anything to lose in trying, do I? Decided, he gathered his power to him, drawing it in more and more deeply until he felt like the very air around him might catch fire, and then he released it in a single massive pulse.
"Marco," he called out with a grin as he felt the invisible wave of his magic race away.
For several seconds, he waited with bated breath, anxious to see whether this inane plan would bear fruit. Sure enough, he eventually felt/heard a faint resonance far in the distance.
"Polo," he interpreted with a laugh, opening a portal to another rooftop.
And that was how he traveled across the city, skipping from rooftop to rooftop while occasionally letting loose more magical pulses to hone in on his destination. Eventually, this led him to a short rooftop overlooking what looked like a rather rundown old pub. Curious, he let loose another pulse, this time hearing and feeling it resonate so strongly it was practically smacking him across the back of the head.
With a shrug, he stepped off the edge of his rooftop. Whatever its deal was, it was the only place in the area that resonated with magic. At the very least, he'd be able to find some clues on how to find the rest of the wizarding world in there.
A couple of non-magical shoppers gave a cry of surprise as he apparently just dropped out of the clear blue sky to land lightly right in front of them. "Good morning," he said cheerfully, stepping across the street to the old pub.
"Uh … morning?" one of the women responded weakly while her friend just stared up at the sky as if fearing a sudden downpour of red-robed teenagers. He barely noticed, however. He was busy feeling a faint wash of magic that wasn't his own pass over him as he stepped closer to the pub.
Definitely in the right place, he thought as he watched a sign over the door slowly reveal itself when he reached the threshold. "The Leaky Cauldron," he read aloud. He smiled in anticipation. This should be interesting.
Opening the door, he was … well, "disappointed" is a strong word …
The interior of this dingy old pub just looked like … a dingy old pub. Granted, he wasn't quite sure exactly what he expected, but still.
Although, he did see a healthy dose of robes on the patrons, so that was a good sign.
"Mornin', kid," a man called out from behind the bar where he seemed to be making great strides in his impersonation of a wrinkled old walnut. "What can I do ya' for?"
"Well, I was hoping you could tell me how to find the wizarding community," he answered bluntly, stepping up to the bar.
Everyone in the bar stopped dead at the utterly bizarre request leveled by the strange red-robed kid.
"Well," the bartender began to answer uncertainly, not quite sure what to make of the question, "there's Diagon Alley, if that's what you mean. The doorway to get there's right through the back."
"Oh," he replied. Well, that was easy. "I don't suppose I could get some food before I go, could I?" It had been a long day, after all.
"Certainly!" The bartender perked up at the question, glad to finally be back in his wheelhouse. "What'll you have?"
"Oh, just something for lunch. I'm not too picky," he answered. "Although," he added in concern as he took a glance at the … "meal" his neighbor was currently digging into with a sincere lack of gusto, "something edible would be preferred. I'd even be willing to pay for taste, if that's on the menu."
"Hmm. Well, that does narrow down the choices a bit, don't it?" the bartender replied with a twisted smile. "I'll see what we have."
"Thank you," he said back with a bright smile.
He started rummaging through his rucksack for his money pouch while the bartender wandered off. After all, he somehow doubted that this place ran on IOUs. However, no sooner did he have the pouch in hand than the bartender returned with a steaming plate.
He stared at the plate in front of him for a moment. "Okay, you came back WAY too fast for that to be freshly made."
The old bartender snickered. "Hey, you asked for it to be edible and to have taste. You didn't say nothin' about freshness." The bartender gave him a wicked grin.
He snorted as he gave the man a rueful smile. "No, I suppose I didn't." He tossed the man a few coins and began to have at it.
The bartender, though, stood there and inspected the coins curiously. "These ain't no sickles. What kinda coins are these?"
"The kind that pays for lunch, hopefully. Otherwise, I might be in trouble here," he replied, taking a bite. Wow. That is a lot of grease. "Though, I hope they're also the kind that leaves me with some change, because there's a chance I may need to pay a healer later," he continued. "Totally unrelated to this meal, of course," he added dryly, digging into a different part of his plate. Hmm. I can't quite tell if this is food with salt added to it, or salt with food added to it.
The wrinkled old man snorted as he started calculating change. "Hey, with sass like that, you'll be lucky if I don't bring you the pea soup next time." Given the horrified gasps that echoed throughout the pub at that statement, that probably wasn't a threat to take lightly.
"Oh no no no, I'm good with this," he hastily assured him, taking another bite with an overlarge smile. "Mmm!" He had to suppress a cough as he found the answer to his previous question, but he maintained his cheery expression as the old bartender chuckled and walked away.
Taking a quick gulp of water to help force down the … "food," he swiped his change off the counter and placed it in his rather-full money pouch. Thank you, Kalen, he though with a smile as he placed the pouch in his pocket. The man ran one hell of a betting operation back at the monastery, and every time he faced off against Master Faraji, he always placed a sizable wager on his master to win. After all, if he was going to get his ass handed to him, he might as well get paid for it at least.
Kalen had been hesitant to accept his bets at first, afraid that he might throw the fights to win the gold, but once he explained his mentality about the whole thing, Kalen was more than happy to start taking his wagers, especially when he explained that if he ever did manage to beat his master, he'd be too ecstatic to care about losing a few coins. Although, for some reason, Kalen had recently been offering longer and longer odds for Faraji to win. He could only assume that Kalen figured that Faraji was bound to fall to a lucky shot sooner or later, given how often they squared off against each other. Whatever, though. It meant more money for him when Faraji wiped the floor with him, so he certainly wasn't complaining.
Finishing his plate of grease and salt and a few tidbits of what may have been actual food, he gathered up his stuff and started towards the back room that the old bartender claimed led to this "Diagon Alley" place.
"Leavin' already?" the man asked while polishing a glass with a disturbingly dirty hand towel. Note to self: Do not drink from the glasses in the Leaky Cauldron. With an internal grimace, he mentally amended that. Any more.
"Yep. Thank you for the meal. It was … memorable," he answered with a grin.
The bartender barked out a laugh. "I've heard that sentiment expressed a time or two around here." He nodded towards the back room. "You know how to open the doorway?"
"I'm guessing you mean something a bit more complicated then just turning a doorknob, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and say 'no'," he responded.
Setting down the glass, the smiling bartender stepped out from behind the bar and led the way to a small, empty courtyard. As he did, he looked down at the boy curiously. "Don't you got any parents, kid?"
"Of course. I hardly just sprung up from the ground, now did I?" he retorted with a grin.
The old man rolled his eyes at the cheeky answer. "I meant, you're not just out here all alone, are you?"
He gave the man an indignant look. "Of course I'm not out here all alone. It would be downright irresponsible of an adult to send a kid my age out all by himself." He snickered internally as he said that, but he was careful to keep a straight face.
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "And yet, here you are."
"I'm going to be meeting people in the alley," he explained. "I just left before my family could tell me how to get in there, exactly."
The old bartender seemed to accept that and gestured to the far wall. "Well, that's where the entrance is. To get in, tap your wand or your finger around these sunken bricks here, like so." The wrinkly old man pulled out a rather grubby-looking wand and slowly tapped a sequence of bricks around a group of bricks that were embedded extra deeply in the wall.
As he did, the boy heard magic begin to sing all around him, and before his eyes, the bricks in the wall started to fold back on each other, slowly starting to reveal what he could only assume was Diagon Alley.
And what a sight it was. Like the city, this place bustled with life and movement and the relentless drum of consumerism, but this place was unique in that uniqueness itself seemed to be prized. Rather than enveloping themselves in suits that seemed designed to bleed all individuality from the crowd and turn everyone into simply more nameless faces in a well-dressed mass, wizards and witches adorned themselves in robes and shawls and hats and dresses that were often as colorful as they were eccentric and bizarre. He could have sworn he even saw one woman walk by with an actual stuffed vulture on her hat, for crying out loud.
He could tell he was going to like this place.
However, he was treated to more than just the sight of the wizarding world's unique sense of fashion. He was awash in a veritable tide of magic that crashed against him, passing over and through him like nothing else. The magic inside him leaped and twirled and sang as it reveled in meeting more of its kind, and the magic of the alley hummed and sang along. For a moment, he forgot everything about where he was or what he was doing. He was simply blissfully overwhelmed by the sheer presence of magic itself, like he had suddenly been dropped into a calm ocean that extended beyond sight in all directions, leaving him in complete awe of the sheer scale of its presence while also feeling utterly small and lost in the face of such a behemoth.
And yet, in spite of that overwhelming sensation, he felt nothing but a sense of belonging, as if his proper place was nowhere else other than in that vast ocean.
"Quite an experience, isn't it, seeing the alley for the first time?" the old bartender asked with a smile on his face while staring out at the alley with the kid.
"Yes, it is," the boy answered quietly, not noticing his eyes beginning to glow a vibrant, living green.
The wrinkled old man looked down at the boy with a slight frown at hearing something so different from the dry, snarky tone the kid had used up until that point. "Hey, kid, you alright?" he asked in a bit of concern.
The boy continued staring at nothing, or more accurately, staring at something beyond mere sight or physical presence, and all the while, his eyes continued to glow brighter and brighter with their strange, ethereal light, though the old man's position slightly behind him meant that he saw none of this. However, between one heartbeat and the next, the experience was suddenly gone like a popped bubble. The light vanished and the boy was left shaking his head feeling utterly disoriented.
"Kid?" the old man asked again, his tone of concern growing stronger.
"I'm fine," he assured the man, already shaking off the overwhelming feeling. "You were right. It was quite an experience," he told him with a smile. "I should be going, though. People to meet and all that, and I'm sure you have more customers to tortur–I mean, feed."
The old bartender rolled his eyes and smiled as the kid's sarcastic tone made a full comeback. "Yeah, get out of here, kid. Go find those people you were looking for," he said warmly. "Come back any time. I'll be sure to whip up a special batch of pea soup just for you." His smile took on a wicked glint at that.
"I feel so special," the boy replied in utter deadpan.
The bartender chuckled. "Take care of yourself, kid."
"You too, old man," he told him, turning to head into the alley.
He took a deep breath as he heard the entrance brick over itself behind him. Alright, he thought to himself, looking over the alley, no turning back now. Time to see what this world has in store for me.
Author's note: I LIIIIIIIVE! And I'd like to apologize for my extended hiatus. Life sometimes has a way of very rudely demanding precedence. That said, I'm hoping to be able to return to a more regular updating schedule now, so yay!
Also, I'd like to give a shout-out to my sister, without whom this chapter very likely wouldn't have happened. *sniffle* You da' real MVP.