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Powers That Be
Chapter 1
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Among the rolling hills and vast plains of the Western March, nestled between the dull gray waters of the Silvermoon Lake and the edge of the expansive Wolfwood Forest, was the quiet village of Godric's Hollow. Home to only a few dozen people, Godric's Hollow was a peaceful collection of mostly wooden structures with thatched roofs centered around a stone paved village square. Everyone knew each other, for it was hard not to get to know what few neighbors there were, and for the most part got along fairly well. Nothing eventful ever happened here, and that was just what Harry hated about the place he called home.
Every day was the same. He would wake up and ready himself for the day, have breakfast with his parents, and then help his father with work or his mother with chores. Occasionally, he would be given some time to go 'play' with the other children, the few of them that there were, but they were strictly ordered to stay within eyesight of the village. That drastically limited the amount of things that they could do or the places they could explore.
Of course they made the most of it, and Harry did enjoy time spent away from working or chores, but after years of doing the same things over and over it was hard not to get bored and feel less enthusiastic about things as the days and years wore on.
Even the weather hardly changed. Most of the time it was blue skies and warm sunny days, broken up by the occasional rain shower or thunderstorm that would pass through as quickly as they came, but for the most part the weather was nice and perfect, as his parents would often describe it. Admittedly, he did enjoy the almost year-round nice weather, but that was beside the point. The village was getting far too boring and was starting to feel way too small for a young lad about to come-of-age.
Over the past few years, now older and bigger, Harry had been straying farther and farther away from the village, stretching the definition of 'keeping the village in sight' as far as he could possibly get away with, and nothing bad ever happened so it further emboldened his adventure-seeking. That meant that he had explored the fringes of the Wolfwood and had rounded the entirety of Silver Lake. Yet he never did break eyesight of the village, at least not intentionally and if he did it wasn't for very long, because despite his craving for adventure he was also a good boy and he didn't want to upset his parents.
He tread the same paths over and over and he could swear, though it was probably not quite accurate, that he knew every tree, rock, and shrub from the far side of the lake all the way to the edge of the Wolfwood. Eventually, there was hardly any adventure left to be had in the area surrounding Godric's Hollow so now he spent his days wishing that someone interesting from the outside world would come along.
On rare occasions there would be visitors from other parts of the kingdom, but for the most part the village was left to its own devices. Too small and unimportant to warrant notice from the greater population, particularly the nobility who lived in castles and mansions and held large tracts of land. Actually, the plot of land on which Godric's Hollow sat was owned by the Royal Family, who bestowed the very name of the village in honor of the scion of their Noble and Most Ancient House, Godric Gryffindor.
Apparently, back when he was alive, Lord Godric Gryffindor, who eventually became the first and indisputably most legendary King Gryffindor, would often visit the place that the village was later built on. He would stroll along the lakeside or hunt in the Wolfwood after setting up camp in the area. In fact, it was him who set the first foundations of the village that now existed today, where there now remained a rather modest cottage for a man of his station. He was said to often escape the capital and spend time at the cottage in order to unwind and relax in the quiet countryside away from all his kingly duties.
Godric the Lion they called him. Fierce, proud, and strong, but also just, kind, and wise. He was the best of the great Lords and Ladies of the four most powerful Houses, or so it was said. When he ascended the throne after the Great War for Unification, the newly established Kingdom of Britannia prospered peacefully until he died of a ripe old age. Upon his death, the start of a long line of Gryffindor kings began, and for the most part the Kingdom continued to grow and thrive in relative peace.
It was just outside the old king's cottage, now long deserted for none of the Gryffindors after Godric ever came to visit, that Harry found himself sitting atop the low stone wall built around the abode, staring with his emerald green eyes out across the tranquil lake only a few minutes walk away. The water was almost perfectly still, with a few ripples breaking the otherwise perfect mirror of the blue sky and wispy white clouds above.
"Harry!" called the familiar voice of his longtime friend Edwin, eliciting a smile from the young boy with messy raven-black hair sitting on the wall as his friend made his way over from the dirt path leading to the rest of the village.
Edwin was the butcher's son, a teenage boy who never quite shed his baby fat, though he was certainly nowhere near as large around as his father. The potential was there, however, and one that Harry would often tease him about. For his part, Edwin swore that he would never get as big as his father. He was roughly the same height as Harry, with shoulder-length curly chestnut brown hair and the beginnings of a mustache indicating that he was soon to enter manhood. Both boys were the eldest males of the small group of children in the village, and they were as such the de facto leaders of the bunch.
"Ed! About time you got here," Harry said cheerfully, waving his hand to greet his best friend.
"Sorry to make you wait. My mum had me feed the pigs and clean the kitchen before she'd let me go," Edwin said apologetically as he hopped up onto the wall to sit next to him.
"I figured it was something like that. There's no need to apologize. How's she doing these days? Your mum."
"Better, I think. Father still fusses over her a lot, and I fuss slightly less than he, but she seems to have a little more energy every day," replied the young boy with a wan smile. "Thank the gods."
Harry nodded. "Good to hear! Thank the gods indeed."
Edwin's mother had become seriously ill a few weeks ago, and it was bad enough that she was barely conscious and bed-ridden for a several days. It was the talk of the village at the time, what with there being not much else to talk about, and people were rightly concerned for her well-being and for their own too. They were afraid that it was something potentially contagious, but thankfully she managed to recover and nobody else got sick so that was the end of it. No one really knew why she got ill though, and people simply chalked it up to old age.
At one point she had gotten so bad that the village even considered pooling money together to fetch for the services of a healer from Ottery St. Catchpole, which was the nearest village and half a day's journey south. They were much bigger in size and population, and they had at least one practitioner of the healing arts living there, or so Harry had heard. Unlike it's neighbor to the south, Godric's Hollow had no one capable of wielding magic, yet another indication of the simple and boring life of the village.
Magic. How he wished he could wield it. Life would certainly never cease to be exciting or interesting if he could. And things would be so much easier too. Even the weakest of magicians were able to use magic to ease the more mundane tasks of their life, such as cleaning, moving or carrying things, and the like. Harry had seen and spoken with a magician once, long ago when he was only eleven, and the old man with a magic staff who had come to Godric's Hollow for a few days told him many stories and displayed a few of the magic spells he could perform with a smile and a wink. It had been some of the most exciting days of his life.
Anyone with any magical aptitude was certainly elevated above the commonplace, blessed by the gods it was said, and the few who could wield real magic were celebrated by all. They were heroes, nobles, and adventurers who led lives with far greater meaning, purpose, and impact than the lowly one that Harry was about to enter his seventeenth year in. They fought monsters, battled evil, and saved lives with their power.
Sometimes at night Harry dreamed that he was one of them, fighting to save the people from evil, and his name would be known throughout all of Britannia. But that was only in a possibility in dreams. When he awoke from them, he was as ordinary as ever and a part of him was saddened by that fact.
"Hello? Harry? Are you even listening?" asked Edwin with mild annoyance as he looked at the raven-haired boy, breaking him out of his reverie.
"What? Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts," he said, looking sheepish.
"I didn't realize you had enough thoughts to get lost in- OW!" Edwin said as Harry punched him square in the shoulder. "Calm down, you big brute! No need to get all violent on me," continued Edwin in mock anger, his true feelings betrayed by the boyish grin on his face.
Harry laughed easily. "So what were you saying?"
"What I was saying while you were lost in that big empty head of yours-" he jumped off the low wall just as Harry struck at him again, barely missing him. "Was that we should head out to the main road today. I hear there's a traveling merchant coming! At least that's what Sir Howell told me."
Sir Huey Howell was Edwin's neighbor and was a retired knight of the kingdom, which was why unlike the rest of the people in the Hollow he had been granted a family name. He lived alone, but traveled often between Godric's Hollow, Ottery St. Catchpole, and the town of Brixham, which was about three or four days to the southeast of Ottery by horse, depending on how fast you were riding of course. Apparently he had good friends in both those places and he visited them whenever he felt restless.
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "A traveling merchant? What's that merchant want to come to Godric's Hollow for?"
"Beats me," said the boy as he pulled back some strands of hair that had gotten into his face. "Sir Howell didn't say. But I'm sure this merchant's got tons of stories to share since Sir Howell knows them personally! And I'm sure there's interesting stuff for sale too."
"Are you buying?" mused Harry.
Edwin crossed his arms and grinned. "Maybe! I did get a little money from Sir Howell for weeding his garden and helping him with some repairs to his house the other day, which is how I learned about the merchant coming. Apparently they know each other from before, when the knight was still in the service of Lord Diggory."
"I see. Lucky you then. I'll only be browsing at best," said Harry wistfully, who had only a handful of coppers to his name at the moment.
"Don't worry too much. I probably couldn't afford anything either, it's not like I got that much from Sir Howell," Edwin said, still grinning, "Now let's get a move on before our parents find us and decide to make us do something boring. If we're lucky, we could talk to the merchant all by ourselves on the way into the village and ask all sorts of things the adults might not... approve of."
Harry laughed and hopped off the wall, then he gave his friend a mischievous grin of his own and gestured towards the path. "Lead the way, Sir Edwin!"
"If it pleases you, Sir Harry," responded the other boy in amusement, walking ahead of him and setting a quick pace that Harry shortly followed, catching up to the slightly taller boy and walking alongside him a little further down the path.
Traveling merchants very rarely came to the village. It was so far out of the way and there were so few people there it usually made no business sense to make the journey, especially since none of the villagers were particularly wealthy. The few merchants that did come through, and the last one was probably three years ago, were simply intrigued by the old tales about Godric or were already at Ottery St. Catchpole and decided to make the relatively short journey over to check the village out. They never stayed more than a day, if they stayed at all. Whenever the villagers needed to restock their supplies, they simply traveled to Ottery themselves.
Still, his best friend was right. The visitors most certainly had interesting stories to tell and cool wares to sell from their travels, not that they could buy any of it, but it was worth it just to look and listen to them spin their tales. Neither of them really knew how much of these stories were actually true, but they wanted to believe that they were and that was all that mattered.
"How are your parents, by the way? It's been a few days since I last saw them," Edwin said as they moved along.
Harry placed both hands behind his head, looking thoughtful as he spoke. "Well, they're the same. Both continue to be blessed with good health. Dad's still busy as ever with his pottery, which mum and I help him with fairly often, myself the most as you know. Mum as usual takes care of everything else from the cooking, the cleaning, the sewing, and everything in between."
"Your mum's cooking is the best!" exclaimed Edwin, making Harry laugh.
"Quiet down, Ed! Your mum might hear you and she'd be right jealous that you prefer my mum's cooking to hers."
"Oh she knows just as well as I that your mother is a far better cook."
Harry could only shake his head and smile. He wasn't going to dispute that.
"Say, doesn't your father have that large shipment of tableware to Brixham coming due soon? I remember you mentioning something about that," asked Edwin.
"Yep! It's for a new tavern that's opening up there and they requested my dad's work specifically. He's already readying the wagon to head out in two days's time. I've been begging him to let me come along so I could finally see what's really beyond our little village, but..."
"He said he'd think about it, didn't he?"
"Yeah," said Harry with a hint of sadness.
They both knew that probably meant no. His dad had been traveling to the other nearby settlements for as long as Harry could remember, but he had never once brought his only son along. The reasons being that his father didn't want to leave Harry's mother alone and also because he said the world beyond their village was far too dangerous for a young boy like him.
But he was about to come-of-age soon, no longer a young boy but a young man. His father had to take that into account, and Harry would try and persuade him by using that as a reason to want to learn more about the world beyond what his parents and the other adults in the village had taught him thus far.
"Well," said Harry with a determined look in his eye. "I think this time, he'll say yes."
Edwin placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sure he will, Harry," he said seriously. "And if not, perhaps we can talk to wise old Aberforth to intercede."
Aberforth was a graying old man with a stern face and hard eyes that betrayed a past full of hardship, one that he guarded closely for no matter how many times the children asked him for stories, he refused. His gray beard was nearly long enough to tuck into the belt of the long robes he often wore, and he spoke with purpose and wisdom. Many came to him for counsel, both adults and children alike. He would often grumble about it, but in the end he helped them all however he could, all the while careful to not get too involved.
His main reason for staying in Godric's Hollow was to take care of his sister, who was unfortunately stricken by some strange illness many years ago and was now, unfortunately, barely able to care for herself.
Harry had seen her once, when he visited Aberforth one rare cloudy day in the village, but for the most part she was kept hidden from view. She seemed a little younger than Aberforth that time he finally saw her, but certainly older than Harry's parents, and she was sitting upon a chair on the porch of their little house looking out into the world beyond with sunken blue eyes that didn't appear to actually see. Her skin was almost deathly pale and her long dull blonde hair was showing some strands of gray.
She did not stir when Harry had walked up to the house, not even when he said hello and waved to her in greeting right before Aberforth came out and shooed him away, telling him to come back another time as he carefully brought her back inside.
When he had asked his parents about her, they had told him that it was a tragic story and one that they were not willing to share. If he really wanted to know, he was free to ask Aberforth about it, but he didn't want to know that badly to risk broaching what was without a doubt a sensitive subject with the old man.
The two boys passed several houses before the path wound its way into the heart of the village and they reached the main square, which had a small circular fountain in the center. Water trickled out from the mouth of a roaring stone lion partially covered in moss as it raised itself up on its hind legs and bared its teeth at the sky.
Other than the fountain, the village square had several buildings lined up along its edges. There was the baker's shop on the corner from where the hunger-inducing smell of freshly baked bread wafted out into the square. Next to it was the butcher's place, and inside they saw Edwin's father working on a slab of pork with a nasty-looking cleaver, blood on his apron.
Edwin did not say hello in case his father asked him to do something at the shop if he showed his face.
Across the square was the village chief's home, though that wasn't actually an officially title or anything. His family, the McLean's, was the first to settle in Godric's Hollow and his ancestors were personal servants to the king who had been given permission to set up their homes on the king's land here. He was currently the oldest person in the village, apparently older even than Aberforth, and was known to be fair and kind. He rarely left his home though. If he did, it was only when it was official business, otherwise it was his wife who went out and about.
Next to the chief's house was a small stable that was open to all, though mostly used by the chief since he was one of the few in the village who actually had a horse. Otherwise, any visitors who came along would put their horses up there for a nominal fee.
On another side of the square stood a small one-story building of stone and wood that smelled of incense. While the village was far too small for a proper Temple of Divinity, this structure served as a place of worship for any who wished to pray or leave offerings to the gods. Next to it was the village well that most of the people got their water from. It was said to be magically enchanted to ensure the cleanliness of the water and the water was certainly always pure when drawn from it.
Then there was the smith's workshop, though he didn't appear to be working that day because the workshop was closed and quiet.
Lastly, there was The Silver Tankard, which was the village watering hole that also, when there were visitors, served as an inn that they could rest their heads at. It was small - "cozy" Harry's father had called it - and his mother was not very fond of it, but it was where practically everyone in the village spent some of their time after sunset cooling off and relaxing after a hard day's work.
They crossed the square and said hello to a handful of people, all of whom they knew very well since they were little, and made their way down the main road that led south. The two boys followed the road as it wound its way out of town and continued over a few of the nearby hills. They stopped when they reached one of the hills some distance away and the road turned into a wide bend that skirted around a steep hill a little further on, half of which had seemingly disappeared for some unknown reason, turning one side of it into a sheer cliff about thirty feet high.
Halfhill Bend. A very literal name for this unique landmark. No one seemed to know how it came to be, with some theorizing that it was Godric's doing somehow for it was his men that made the road leading to the Hollow. Others claimed that there once was a great battle here and the broken hill was evidence of it, though none of the history books or scholars ever mentioned such an event ever happening. Conspiracy, they claimed. Harry's money was on the former.
They found a shaded spot underneath a big oak tree not too far from the road and decided to wait for the traveling merchant there. Harry settled himself with his back pressed up against oak's thick trunk while Edwin lay face up on the grass nearby. From where they were waiting, they could just barely see the tops of the houses in Godric's Hollow in the distance behind them. They passed the time by musing about what they would do if they had all the money in the world as well as discussing whether or not dragons still existed, among other rather generally light topics.
The sun was halfway towards the horizon, and the boys were starting to get hungry and thirsty, by the time they heard the telltale sounds of something approaching Halfhill Bend.
Both boys perked up immediately, getting to their feet as their eyes remained glued to the bend in the road. The noise coming from the other side of Halfhill continued to get louder until finally they spotted the merchant, or more specifically, they saw the merchant's impressively large black horse first followed by a sizable canvas-topped wooden wagon that it pulled along behind it. Riding on a seat built into the front of the wagon was presumably the merchant that Sir Howell had spoken of.
He or she, for it was hard to tell from where they were watching, wore what appeared to be a black coat with green and gold highlights over a similarly colored button-down shirt, and gray pants that ended tucked into a pair of dark brown leather boots. The merchant also appeared to have long dark hair and something on their face, but again it was difficult to make out what it really was from this distance.
The wagon, though, was really what drew their attention, for it was unlike any of the admittedly very few merchant's wagons they had seen before. It was large and misshapen with various baubles and trinkets of all kinds and sizes poking and hanging out of the canvas top, looking more like a collection of things gathered over time and haphazardly stuffed into a wagon that could barely contain it all. In fact, Harry thought it resembled more like someone had hastily packed all of their worldly possessions into a wagon rather than a merchant bringing along inventory to sell.
Regardless, both of them were amazed that nothing actually fell out of it what with all the bumps that it probably endured along the unpaved roads that made up the majority of the Kingdom's roadways. Harry even wondered if there might be some magic involved with keeping it all together. Though that begged the question, was this merchant also a mage?
The two shared a quick look of curiosity and confusion at the sight, and they grinned with eagerness in their eyes.
"This merchant definitely has some interesting stories," Harry said confidently.
"I want to hear about how he got all that stuff in the wagon," said Edwin, "And how he plans to get things out without making a right mess."
"Well technically, it already is a right mess."
"You've got a point."
They both shared a laugh at that.
As the merchant drew close, it became clear that he or she was wearing a blank white mask shaped like an eerily expressionless human face, with small holes for each nostril and slightly larger slits for the eyes. The mask covered the entirety of the merchant's face while dark gloves were over their hands. Surprisingly, the mask didn't muffle their speech as the merchant greeted them, pulling on the reins and bringing the horse and wagon to a stop on the road close to where the two boys were standing.
"Good day, young gentlemen." The merchant sounded friendly enough as he waved at them.
The two boys tentatively walked closer. Harry was hoping he might be able to tell the gender of the merchant from their voice, but upon hearing it he thought it could go either way. Though it did sound a little lower than a typical female, so he was leaning towards the merchant possibly being a man.
"Good day... uh... sir?" responded Edwin, beating Harry by a fraction of a second, hesitant because apparently he was also unsure how to properly address the merchant.
The merchant didn't satisfy their curiosity and made no clarifications, however, and Harry thought it was on purpose. "I see you are out enjoy the sun on such a fine day. A wise choice. Are you boys from Godric's Hollow, by any chance?"
"Yes... sir," replied Edwin, apparently deciding to stick with considering the merchant to be a man. "Born and raised."
"Excellent. I was told it wasn't much farther once I rounded Halfhill Bend," remarked the merchant, glancing back towards the geographic landmark that they had passed only a moment earlier.
"You're right... sir," this time it was Harry who spoke, not looking directly at the merchant's face because he was finding the mask rather unsettling, "It should take you no more than another ten minutes with your horse and wagon to get there at a leisurely pace. In fact, you should be able to see the tops of the houses if you look ahead." Harry gestured in the direction of the village, and the merchant's head turned slightly to follow.
"It appears so," said the merchant thoughtfully, "Are you and your friend on the way back to the village? You can ride along with me if you'd like. The seating isn't comfortable by any means, but we won't be traveling for too long as you said."
Harry and Edwin looked at each other, the former uncertainly while the latter was very much eager.
"Yes, sir. We'd very much like that," said Edwin, and Harry did not protest despite the unsettling feeling he was getting from the masked merchant.
"Hop on then. Let's get to the village. I'm very much looking forward to some food and drink, but first you can tell me a little about yourselves and the village you live in."
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Back in Godric's Hollow, a man with messy jet-black hair was busy in his workshop sitting in front of a sizable contraption known as a pottery wheel. His hands worked deftly as the spinning wet clay between those hands was shaped gradually into the form of a jug. Applying pressure in just the right areas, he adjusted the angle of his hands and fingers a few more times as he worked.
Across his exposed skin was a sheen of sweat thanks to the heat of the enclosed workshop and the work he was putting in. Every so often he would kick with his bare foot the flywheel situated at the bottom of the pottery wheel to keep it spinning. He had been at it for hours now without a break, as he had been doing for the past week, and was on his last piece for the day.
James had been working in pottery for a little over sixteen years now, and this was one of the largest orders he had to fill yet. All the way in the town of Brixham no less. He was certainly happy that his work was gaining recognition and proud that all his hard work since he began this new profession was starting to pay off, but he secretly worried that his client might not be happy with his final products.
He needed to put forth his best work if he wanted to further improve his reputation and gain more business, especially in the bustling town of Brixham, and he had been working tirelessly for the past week to make sure that everything was perfect. After all, he had a family to take care of. A loving wife and a growing boy, both of whom he loved with every fiber of his being, and money was still somewhat tight these days.
In his peripheral vision he noticed the door to the workshop open and bright sunlight from the outside streamed in for a moment before the door was shut. Someone had walked in, and he smiled without breaking his eyes away from his work for he knew who it was. There was only one person who would come in at this hour without knocking.
"Excuse me sir, have you seen my husband?" asked the lovely voice of his wife that sounded as sweet as a lover's kiss planted softly with full lips. There was no mistaking it. It was one that he could recognize anywhere at anytime.
Amused, James decided to play along without removing his eyes from his work. "Well I can't say for certain, my lady. What does he look like?"
"Oh, he used to be quite dashing. Tall and handsome with hazel eyes and an absolute mess of raven-black hair on his head. Hmm... Well-built too, I suppose, at least he used to be, like I said."
James almost turned to give her a look, but kept his focus on the nearly completed jug in front of him and settled for raising his eyebrows. He was dangerously close to having to start over. "Used to be?" he managed to say after a few quiet seconds broken only by the sounds of the pottery wheel.
"Yes," she said wistfully, "Unfortunately, kind sir, I haven't seen him in ages and so I can't say for certain what he looks like anymore. Why, it's been so very long since I've seen him that my memories of him are even starting to fade. Perhaps he's some ugly, sweaty, and fat brute by now."
"Well... that would definitely be a right shame if it were true, my lady." He tried to shake the image of him being fat and ugly that had come unbidden to his mind.
"Quite," sniffed his wife as she came up behind him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. "So have you seen him, good sir?"
"I believe you are in luck, my lady. A dashing young man actually came through here not long ago that quite fit your description of what he... used to be," he said with a grin as he finished up his work. A few more cycles and he would be done.
"Young?" she repeated his description with a quick laugh. "That's good to hear. Do you think he might be on his way to see me then? I miss him terribly."
He nodded. "Yes, I do remember him saying something about heading back to his loving and beautiful wife."
"Is that all he said about his wife?"
He could practically see the smile on her face behind him as she said that. If she wanted more compliments, who was he to deny her that?
"Oh goodness no! He wouldn't shut up about you, to be honest. Why, he practically described what I could only believe to be an actual goddess who walks among us, a blessing that us mere mortals should always be thankful for. I had to bribe him to keep his mouth shut so that I could concentrate properly on my work."
With practiced motions she started to massage his aching muscles just as soon as he took his hands away from the clay, satisfied with the completed work in front of him. He sighed into her ministrations as she leaned in close to his ear, tickling him with her warm breath.
"Did my errant husband speak to you about the punishments such a goddess would give to someone who neglected to give her the proper attention she deserved?" she said, half-amused as she struggled to sound even mildly threatening.
He grinned. "He did not, my lady."
"Let me show you."
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The ride into the village had not been as exciting as they had hoped, for the so-called merchant seemed determined not to say anything about himself while continuing to quiz the two boys on their knowledge of the village. Most of the merchant's questions were simple enough, like what professions people had and how many people lived here and for how long. They wondered why he was asking them instead of any of the adults, but neither of them asked.
The few times they did manage to ask the merchant a question about himself, he only said that he would answer them once he got some food and drink in his belly. Something about not talking at length on an empty stomach. He at least gave them a name, Langford, which Harry suspected was not actually his real name, though why he thought that he wasn't entirely sure. He didn't know if Edwin believed the merchant or not.
After leaving the horse at the stable next to the chief's house, and the wagon out in front by the square, the two boys brought the merchant to The Silver Tankard where they now sat across from the merchant as they settled into a booth in the back. The merchant himself ordered a pint of their best ale while the two boys were served mugs of apple juice, both of them receiving questioning looks from the proprietors of the place, Brian and his wife Penny.
Thankfully, the two adults that knew the boys quite well did not ask them outright what they were doing with the masked stranger, deciding instead to simply keep a close eye - and probably ear too - on the trio, but they were sure to get a proper talking to later on.
It was Harry who first noticed that the merchant made no move to remove his mask even as the food and drink arrived, and upon closer inspection the mask seemed to be made of some strange material that Harry wasn't familiar with. When the merchant brought food up to his mouth, the mouth of it followed the merchant's own exactly so that he could eat and drink with it on, and it was arguably the strangest thing Harry had ever seen. There was only one explanation for it: magic.
With his elbow, Harry carefully nudged Edwin, who gave him a curious look as he was busy stuffing his face with steaming Shepard's Pie. Trying as subtly as possible to motion towards the merchant, who was himself eating some vegetable soup, he hoped that his best friend would notice the now very obvious magical mask at work. It took a few seconds, but eventually the chubbier boy's eyes widened in surprise as he too noticed the abnormal mask at work.
"So, Harry and Edwin, was it?" Langford said as he finished his soup and moved on to a bowl of beef and potatoes. Either he didn't mind them staring or he didn't notice, but the two quickly tried to make it seem as if they weren't just staring at his mask anyways.
"Yes, sir. You have it right," said Harry, not nearly as interested in his food now that he was aware of the possibility that this merchant could use magic. Excitement flowed through him like a river run rampant.
"Good. You've been very helpful in answering my questions, and for that I am grateful. I do have one more question however, before I submit to answering a few of yours," the merchant paused as the two boys were now paying close attention to him. "Have you noticed anything... strange going on lately around here? Any weird phenomena of any sort? Unexplained events perhaps?"
Harry turned to Edwin as both of them furrowed their brows in thought and confusion at the question. "Sorry, I don't recall noticing anything strange lately," said Harry.
"I haven't either, sir. This village of ours is no place for strange or weird phenam... phuno... uh... things, sir," said Edwin matter-of-factly, struggling to pronounce the word the merchant just used.
Harry nodded. "The Hollow is, as we mentioned on the road, a-"
"Boring and simple village, yes, yes. You did say that several times, young Harry." The merchant seemed thoughtful, hard to tell though given the impassive mask, and then said, "You also mentioned that you know Sir Howell, yes?"
"Right, sir. And he was the one who told us of your impending arrival, which was why we were out on the road waiting for you," explained Harry, glancing at Edwin who nodded in agreement.
"Where might I find the old knight? I'm sure you've gathered from all my questioning but I've never been here before and I'd like to go pay a visit to my friend once we're done here."
They gave him directions to the retired knight's house from the tavern, and once the merchant was satisfied, he finished up his food and then proceeded to take a sip of his ale. Surprisingly, his pearly white mask seemed perfectly clean despite the food and ale that had surely been in contact with it around the mouth. No doubt part of its magical enchantments was keeping itself clean.
"Thank you boys. You've been most helpful. So then, I did promise to answer some of your questions," said Langford with a smile that stretched his mask, making it even more uncomfortable to look at for too long, and Harry felt a shiver run through him. "But before I do, I will tell you now that there will likely be some things that I cannot tell you, and I'll say so when we come to that. Now, ask away!"
"Are you a wizard?" asked Harry, practically blurting the question out as soon as the merchant stopped talking.
The merchant cocked his head. "What makes you think I'm a wizard?"
"Your mask, sir. It's... not normal," replied the young boy with messy black hair.
There was a short silence as the masked merchant seemed to study the boy, who tried to look anywhere but the unnatural mask he had just pointed out. "My mask," Langford began, "Is enchanted with magic, that much is fact, but simply because I have a magical item does not consequently mean that I am a wizard. Practically any item can be imbued with spells and enchantments, and there are many people who possess such items who can wield them without being able to use an ounce of magic themselves. This is because the magic of the item powers itself, and depending on the enchantments placed, one does not need to pour magical energy into it in order for it to function. My mask is one such item."
"So... you're not a wizard?" Harry said as he and Edwin both soaked in the man's words.
Chuckling lightly, the merchant shook his head. "Technically, no."
Harry looked questioningly at the merchant. "Technically no?"
Breaking into another uncanny smile, Langford did not elaborate.
Harry frowned, unsatisfied with that answer but with no intention of pressing the matter and risk upsetting the masked merchant, and then looked to Edwin. Even though he still had a lot of questions, Harry knew that his friend also had some of his own, and it was more than likely that they had some of the same questions anyway so he urged his friend to ask what was on his mind.
"Sorry to ask sir, but are you... really a man?" Edwin looked embarrassed to have asked, but the burning curiosity of his eyes showed how much he really wanted to know. Frankly, Harry was glad that it was his friend who asked that question, for he was unsure if he could have been so bold as to ask the merchant to his face like that himself. He was hoping to clear this up.
The merchant laughed heartily, eliciting stares from the few patrons there were as well as from Brian from behind the bar and Penny who was wiping down tables. "As you see me now, yes I am a man," he said simply. "And don't worry, I've taken no offense."
The way in which Langford responded seemed strange to Harry, but before he could follow up, Edwin asked another question.
"Where are you from, sir?"
"Unfortunately, I don't actually have a... permanent location to call home. You see, my home is my wagon," explained the merchant as he gestured vaguely in the direction of where his wagon was parked, "But I suppose, many years ago I grew up in the city of Cornwall, so that might be a more... sufficient answer for you."
Harry was pleased to note that his earlier observation about the wagon was somewhat true. It was indeed a wagon that someone had put all their worldly possessions in, seeing as how it served as Langford's traveling home.
Cornwall was one of the largest cities in the kingdom and was the furthest city southwest from the capital of Camelot, which was many leagues to the northeast. Harry didn't even know how long it would take to travel to either city from Godric's Hollow. Perhaps weeks at the very least.
"What's it like, sir? A city, I mean. Or even a town, really." Edwin asked eagerly.
"Hmm... have you been to Brixham?" said Langford.
Both boys shook their heads.
The masked merchant frowned slightly. "What about Ottery St. Catchpole?"
Again, the boys shook their heads and the merchant regarded them silently.
"You've never left Godric's Hollow," said the merchant, more a statement than a question.
"We... aren't allowed to leave the Hollow," explained Harry, his voice subdued and his shoulders slumped.
"Well, technically we are allowed to leave the village limits, sir, but only if we stay within eyesight of the village," Edwin added.
"Interesting." The merchant said nothing else as he took a few long sips of his now nearly empty mug of ale. "Do you know why you aren't allowed to leave Godric's Hollow?"
The boys looked to each other. "Safety?" offered Edwin with a shrug and Harry nodded.
"I see." Langford looked around the mostly empty tavern and Harry followed his unseen gaze from behind the mask.
It was still a little too early for the rest of the village to come for a drink and people were still working. Brian and Penny were busy attending to the three other customers who sat at the bar. No one seemed to be paying them any particular attention at the moment, though Penny kept casting furtive glances over to them to make sure nothing bad was happening to the boys no doubt.
"Is the area around the village considered dangerous?" asked the merchant seriously.
"No... not really," said Edwin, "I guess there was that time William, a boy a few years younger than us, was chased by a wolf in the forest, but there was a group of us so when he returned to the group, the wolf left off. Other than that..."
Harry remembered that day. They had been picking berries and herbs for the village at the edge of the wood, and Rory McLean, eldest son of the village chief and a little over twenty-five summers old at the time, was out with them supervising. William, second son of the village blacksmith, was only nine when he had seemingly lost track of himself and found that he was alone deeper into the wood than they were allowed.
The younger boy said that he only realized he was too far in when he heard the growling of the wolf close by and then turned tail and ran for his life. They never did see or hear the wolf that he spoke of, but William swore that it was real and looked genuinely frightened, so Harry and the rest had believed him.
"There are wolves in the Wolfwood, hence the name," admitted Langford, "Though they rarely travel alone. Wolves are pack animals, so if there's one then there are others close by. You were fortunate they did not fall upon the lot of you."
Harry and Edwin shared another look. They were definitely glad to not have been attacked by a pack of wolves, not that either of them had actually ever seen one.
"Any other dangers around here? Monsters perhaps? Violent criminals?" Langford queried, though the last bit was said with a bit of humor.
They both shook their heads. The Hollow and the area around it was pretty safe from their experience, which made Harry suddenly wonder why exactly they were supposed to be so careful when ranging outside the village grounds. Other than possibly encountering wolves in the forest, there wasn't anything else he'd seen that would be classified as dangerous in this area. Deciding to consider it simply as parental caution regarding the safety of their children, he tried not to dwell on it any longer.
Langford had one hand on his mug, the other was flat on the table and he tapped the fingers of that hand onto the wood in a sort of drum beat.
"To your question about what cities and towns are like... Ottery is physically about three times larger than Godric's Hollow, from what I've seen of it anyway. There are at least a couple of hundred people so it is certainly busier and louder with far more buildings found around the central square. Brixham is about five, maybe six, times larger than Ottery, with a heavy wooden palisade all around its perimeter for protection. Soldiers stand on guard at all times. There are a few thousand people who call the town home, with sounds, smells, and sights that will likely overwhelm you if you ever manage to make it out there."
He paused to take another sip of his dwindling ale then turning back to the two young village boys he continued, "Cornwall is massive. Maybe ten times bigger than Brixham. Bigger even. It would take the better part of a day to walk all along its perimeter, which is ringed by thick stone walls and tall defensive towers. It is also a port city, with an extensive dock where numerous ships of various sizes come and go. Nearly every street is paved with stone and the buildings number in the hundreds, most of them stone mixed with wood. Tens of thousands live in the city, with more still living just beyond the walls. And of course there is Nerodia Castle, proud home of the Marqui and Marquess Malfoy of Cornwall."
Harry was finding it hard to even imagine such a place where tens of thousands of people lived. He hoped he could see it some day and experience what it was like for himself. Right then he envied the merchant sitting in front of him because it sounded like the man got to travel far and wide across the kingdom. To have such freedom to go where you wanted was surely a most wonderful life to lead.
"If I may ask, sir... why are you here?" Harry couldn't imagine what would bring such a well-traveled person to their humble little town.
"To visit a friend, of course. You've already mentioned that Sir Howell is expecting me," replied Langford easily. "Besides, I've never been to this part of the kingdom, so it's nice to see some place that I've never laid eyes on previously."
When it was clear that the merchant was to say no more on the subject, and after Brian the barkeep came over with a fresh mug of ale and cleared away their empty plates, Harry looked to the masked merchant with hopeful eyes.
"Do you have any exciting stories you can tell us, sir? Any adventures that you might have been on?" Harry asked, his thoughts now turning to the original motive that the boys had in trying to meet the traveling merchant first. He still had more questions for Langford, if that really was his name, but he was starting to think that the time they had with him was ending soon.
"Or adventures that you've heard about that you might share?" added Edwin excitedly.
"I may have a story or two that might interest you," admitted the merchant as he took a swig of the fresh ale. "But I'll only have time and energy to tell you one at the moment before I take my leave."
The boys grinned at each other.
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On the other side of the kingdom, far to the north, a wrinkled old man with long white hair and a beard that nearly reached his knees walked as swiftly as he could through the soggy cobblestone streets as the cold rain fell from the dark sky in buckets. Due to the heavy rain, there were few people out and about that evening, and none of them paid any heed to the old man as he made his way through town with obvious familiarity. Had any of them taken a closer look, they would have noticed surprisingly that the man in long robes was perfectly dry, for the rain seemingly bounced off of him, repelled by some invisible force.
He was humming a tune to himself as he walked along, not minding the downpour in the slightest, and stopped only when he reached a large stone building from which smoke poured out of a tall chimney. The muffled sounds of numerous conversations and laughter filtered out from the windows and the heavy wooden door that he was now standing in front of. Reaching out with a wrinkled hand to open the door above which hung a weathered wooden sign that read "Hog's Head Inn", he entered the noisy and quite crowded establishment.
Once inside, his piercing blue eyes scanned the room as a few of the patrons within took note of his arrival. None of them seemed to recognize him. Walking further in, he sidestepped a few patrons who stumbled about and managed to get the attention of the barkeep.
"What can I do ye for, ser?" said the balding man with a thick mustache, his hands busy fixing a drink while his eyes stared up at the tall stranger.
"The stars shine brightest in the dark," said the old man with a clear and learned voice.
The man eyed him for a moment before gesturing with his head towards a set of beaten stairs at the back of the inn and then returning to his duties serving drinks.
With a nod of thanks, the old man made his way up the rickety flight of stairs to the second level, where a sitting room with several worn couches and chairs arranged around a low table awaited him. In the corner, the fireplace roared with flame and the sound of crackling wood, giving the space a welcome warmth. Rain drummed against the windows, though all but one of them had the curtains drawn.
Curled up in one of the chairs facing the fire was a silver tabby cat that appeared to be fast asleep.
Walking up to a nearby chair and patting the cushions, the old man took a seat and sighed tiredly as he shut his eyes for a moment. "I came as quickly as I could, Minerva, but I do apologize for my tardiness. You can stop pretending to be asleep now," he said with the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
The cat opened one eye to look at him for a moment. Then it raised its head as it opened both eyes and yawned, mouth stretching open to reveal its sharp tiny teeth before rising up onto all fours. The cat then proceeded to bend down and reach out its forelegs as its butt wiggled slightly in the air while going into a deep stretch, tail twitching behind it. Once done, the cat leaped off the chair and, suddenly and smoothly, transformed into an old woman wearing emerald green robes and a rather stern expression on her face.
"It's good to see you, Minerva," greeted the old man with a smile. "You look well."
"It's been far too long, Albus," sniffed the woman in green as she took a seat where she had been lying as a cat only moments before, her graying black hair tied into a tight bun behind her head.
"Indeed it has," said Albus with a slight frown. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep in touch as often as I'd like."
"The King and his blasted Court keep you busy, I imagine."
"Very much so," admitted Albus tiredly.
Minerva fixed him with a critical gaze. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped. You are Lord Albus Dumbledore, Hero of the Kingdom and whatnot after all. But I won't forgive you so easily for neglecting your friends despite your elevated status these days."
Albus inclined his head. "I expected no less from you, Minerva. Now what was so urgent that you couldn't tell me in writing and had to summon me all the way out here from the capital?"
"Perhaps I simply missed the company of a very old friend," she quipped as she crossed her arms, lips pursing into a line.
Albus chuckled lightly, but said nothing as he waited for her to say whatever it was she needed to tell him.
"It's about Sybil," Minerva finally said after a stretch of silence. She sounded hesitant.
Arching an eyebrow at her, Albus began to stroke his incredibly long beard. "What's happened?"
"She's... made a prophecy."
x=x=x=x=X=x=x=x=x=
AN: It always amazes me how quickly time flies while I write... hours upon hours just gone seemingly in the blink of an eye. Hope you're enjoying so far! Let me know what you think. There will be a lot of elements inspired by canon, but this is very much an Alternate Universe (AU) story.
Also, for those who might wonder how Harry and co. are comfortable (well, not quite since Harry does signal some discomfort/unease) with a stranger like Langford: he is known to Sir Howell plus the kids are naive and innocent. :)
One last thing: the landmass that the kingdom is located in is more the size of Greenland than it is the British Isles, with the Kingdom residing in the southeastern portion of it. Hence, the ocean is to the south and east, while land is to the west and north. Across the ocean to the southeast is a continent similar to Europe.