A/N: Hey, me again. I know it's been a minute since I posted, but I hope you can forgive this hot mess for not having his shit together. I personally like this chapter, particularly the areas of Cailean's personality and magic I explore. I hope you like it too. I know it's a bit on the shorter side, but we'll be returning to more normal lengths next week. I think.

Chapter 10: Persistence

Saturday, May 9, 1998: Late Morning

The battered sign was the least of his concerns. Cailean stared in shock at the mounds of rubble and rusty, long-neglected scraps of metal that were laid out before him. The otherworldly castle and grounds didn't appear to ever have existed. Was he in the right place? Something wasn't working in his brain; he could almost feel the severed connection preventing his ability to make sense of what he saw. It seemed impossible that his wife could ever have been here, impossible that he had ever rescued a dog from this place. There was no way it could have survived in these harsh conditions. Anyway, he had to leave. He really shouldn't be here. Aed was probably worried sick about him. Why had he even come?

No… That didn't make sense somehow, even though his surroundings corroborated the theory. But it all felt wrong, tainted by his contradictory recollections. He just needed to understand. Cailean clawed at his face, trying to remember. There had to be something he could do. He was almost positive that there was some way to determine whether or not he was lying to himself, but the information was stuck in the back of his head and refused to become clearer. Come on. He pressed one hand into his forehead and rubbed his left temple with the other, but he wasn't accomplishing much except a pain in the spot where he was rubbing. Cailean only ceased the futile action when his vision started to go black at the edges. This wasn't working.

He screamed a howl of defiance and rage at the extent of this injustice. How could this place be turning him away? A significant event had occurred here, but he was struggling to make his brain cooperate with the truth that burned in his chest. The memory he sought lay somewhere just out of reach, somewhere just beyond his fingertips.

A detail broke through the haze of last Monday. That alien sense of discovery blasting open his mind, a new world opening itself to him. In a burst of clarity, he remembered physical locations that had definitely held his presence. The sports field with its hoops brushing the sky, the green grass below obscured by piles of ash, the stands holding memories of joy and sorrow. The unidentifiable flashes of light in the castle which had so terrified him the day before filled his eyes and ears. His senses were coated and amplified by a primal roar exploding from deep within himself. Though the sight in front of him did not change, Cailean charged forward at the sign and rammed his shoulder into it with all the strength he could muster.

Upon making contact with the sign, the shaggy-haired man was thrown back ten feet, landing with a heavy thud on the hard ground. Perhaps not the best course of action, he thought as a grunt of pain escaped his lips. A small, round object fell out of his pocket and started to roll away. Cailean's eyes immediately locked onto it, and he commenced his pursuit with reckless abandon.

He soon caught up to the tiny multicoloured orb, which was probably a good thing. It was about to land in a hole filled with dusty soil, and Cailean did not fancy completely ruining one of the few decent collections of garments in his possession. Aed did not allow him to purchase his own clothing, and he did not wish to receive her ire at all the wasted money and effort. He supposed it was perfectly valid. It wasn't as though he had an eye for fashion.

Cailean could now recall how his wife had given him one last look before she left with Will, the short crimson hair framing her face. No, wasn't it long? He was sure that she rarely cut it. Now that he thought of it, was her hair not, in actual fact, brown? The confused web of thoughts frightened him. He needed to figure out what was going on before his situation got any worse. He reached out a trembling hand and grasped the strange blue and green ball tightly. It was warm against his palm, most likely heated from the late-morning sun. A cool tingling he could not begin to understand rippled throughout his body, and a flood of sights and sounds pooled inside his mind before expanding forth to fill the many gaps in his memory. A satisfied smile played about his lips as Cailean fell into the dark.

(=)

He stirred back to consciousness feeling lightheaded. Checking his watch, he was relieved to discover that his little nap had only lasted a few minutes. His mind was an uncomfortable combination of old and new memories and experiences. It was difficult to make sense of everything, and he was struggling to figure out what happened and when. He lay on the dirt path facing the ruins, but his head was tilted to one side with an ear pressed to the ground. His eyes were still closed, not yet ready to face the world. Amazingly, the little ball of spongy stone was still clutched in his hand, and he relished its reassuring weight. He did not know why, but it gave him a sense of power and joy that he could not relinquish. The ball's constant heat was welcome, whether it emanated from within or up above. It hummed softly beneath his fingers, promising him safety in this terrifying place.

Cailean pushed himself to his knees with a groan. He glanced up and saw a gate, but there was something about it that set off alarm bells in his head. Where had that sign got to? He had begun to appreciate the thing's existence, even if it had knocked him back a long way just because he touched it. An image of his sprinting form came unbidden into his head, reminding him that perhaps he had not been so innocent. Regardless, its response to his experiment had been unnecessarily violent. He chuckled to himself, unsure why he had thought so deeply about a rusty old hunk of metal.

What if I am somewhere else? The thought struck Cailean like a bolt of lightning and almost caused him to fall backwards onto his rear. Had he somehow been transported to a different place? He did not recognise his surroundings; trees lined the path where he lay on both sides, and small forest critters scampered and chittered all around him. This made absolutely no sense. Where were the ruins, the pits of dusty soil?

What was wrong with him? With a start, Cailean realised that he was not behaving like himself. These thoughts, his attitude… He had to shake off whatever was causing him to act like this. He stood tall and strong, smoothing his wild hair back and away from his face. He was not confused, there was no doubt in his mind where he was. He took several steps forward and placed a calloused hand on the gate. He peered down at the symbols that had fascinated him almost a week ago, and the buzzing in his head cleared a little more. He pushed it open and stepped through, his jaw dropping at the sight that met his eyes.

The castle. There it was. No more confusion, no missing memories, and definitely no questioning his whereabouts . For in this moment, Cailean knew one thing with more conviction than he knew his own name. This was a place of magic, and he would learn its secrets whether it wanted to give them to him or not. Taking a confident step forward, Cailean pushed through the undergrowth that attempted to drag him down. There were things to see and people to find. Magic was real, and he was going to let the rest of the world know all about it.

He walked the path that led to the familiar grounds with purpose, taking his time. He needed to find evidence of magic, for that is what it must be. The strange power flowed through the walls of the castle, ran along the ground under his feet. He could feel it now, of that much he was certain.

As he drew nearer, voices reached his ears. They grew louder as he walked, and he was almost close enough to see the associated bodies before he caught himself. A cold trickle of sweat ran down his back. He had almost been seen. All he had done to make it this far would have been in vain if they found him now. His face became hot as he retreated to the edge of a large forest. Strange sounds came through the trees, but he had no desire to explore further.

From his hiding place, he was able to hear what was being said while staying out of sight. They spoke of odd matters he didn't quite understand; a war with some fellow named Voldemort, and memories of people who had apparently not lived through the ordeal. He had been able to gleam this much through the stray phrases that made it to his ears, and he was glad that no more was discernible. He was sure they weren't human. Magic flowed through their veins; it had been obvious as Cailean had listened to them work. Whirs and bangs accompanied utterances in a foreign tongue that filled him with a fear so absolute he had scarcely been able to breathe.

Cailean did not know how long he stayed there. It could have been anywhere between fifteen minutes too over an hour. Eventually however, the voices faded, and only when he heard the distant sound of huge doors closing did he move out from his cover. He wasn't sure if anybody else would come out, or if the original party would return. He had to hurry. He had to find evidence of magic. His resolve had been strengthened by everything he had just heard. The world had to know.

A small square of fabric caught his eye as he stepped onto the grounds. If Cailean had not been scouring every inch of his surroundings, he would have missed it. Its colour and pattern perfectly matched the bed of grass it lay on. He moved over to it, his footfalls making no noise on the vegetation, and picked it up. It felt strange in his hands, like any material used for clothing, but slippery. It was not wet, but he struggled to maintain his grip on the dirt-stained scrap. To his surprise, Cailean noticed that it changed colour depending on what was behind it.

When he held it against the cloudless sky, it turned a matching shade of blue. Lowering it to the grass at his feet caused the material to adopt a green hue flecked with yellow. Finally, when he rested it in his palm, it almost disappeared against his flesh. Worried that he would drop it and somehow lose sight of its location, Cailean pocketed the chameleon cloth and moved on. What garment could be made from something like this, and how in the holy hell did it work? Well, apart from the obvious answer.

He tried pushing thoughts of the strange material from his mind to focus on his search again. It wouldn't do to ruminate on something so clearly beyond his understanding. There were things he had to do right now, things he could not distract himself from. He would definitely consider it again later when he had more time. It was magical, he was sure. No man-made fabric behaved like that. As he walked, Cailean hummed to himself. Some lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. She was long dead now, and the scars left on his heart by her passing had never healed completely.

It struck him as odd that there almost never seemed to be anyone around, at least outside. He was always free to wander these grounds uninterrupted. The only other living creature he had met was that dog on the first day, and it dwelled in that hut no longer. He tried not to feel too disappointed. He could not help but think of Hendries alone in the house. Thankfully, he had left extra food and water for the tiny thing, so hopefully it would last until he returned. There had also been the cat, he suddenly remembered. But so brief was the glance he tossed at it that, beyond it being abnormally ugly, no other details came to mind when Cailean attempted to picture the ball of fur.

It was a while before he found anything else that looked promising. It couldn't be… A short length of wood, less than a foot long, lay on the ground near the sports field. Absently, he wondered why it had not been recovered by the inhabitants of this place, but supposed it was out of the way enough to not be noticed. It was actually situated in a small bush, its tip poking out of the green mass at an odd angle. He made his way over to it, keeping his footsteps light and even. Just because he had managed to escape notice so far, there was no guarantee his good fortune would continue. At the very least, he should attempt to remain as quick and silent as possible.

He was grateful for the find; the day had become uncomfortably warm, and Cailean was quickly growing tired of constantly wiping his sweaty face, having rolled up his sleeves long before this point. He berated himself for leaving the house with a jacket that morning, but it had been cool, and he needed it to disguise the sack he was carrying. He didn't know what he would find on his search for evidence, but certainly wanted to remain inconspicuous. It wouldn't do to walk around with something large sticking out of a pocket. Yes, the less attention he drew to himself the better.

Cailean bent down and picked up the length of wood. He did not know much about witchcraft, but had heard stories in the pub of wands and staffs. This, apparently, was a magic wand. He fought the urge to laugh at such a ridiculous concept. He supposed, however, that it could not be ridiculous if it was real. And it was definitely, undeniably real. For when his fingers closed around the thicker end and he found a position he liked, a warmth spread throughout his whole body, like this piece of wood was a part of him, and had only now found its home.

His mouth fell open at the sensation. Was this normal? It felt simultaneously fantastical and familiar, like a language he could almost understand. A fire bubbled up inside him, something awakening in the pit of his stomach. His arm felt detached from the rest of his body, like it was operating beyond his own capabilities. He was unsure of whether this was a good thing or not.

Whatever it was, the wand radiated power. The liquid strength flowing through his veins felt like molten gold. Blisteringly hot, but rich, and a force that he welcomed like an old friend. The surge of power he felt dimmed all other experiences in his life, even laying his eyes on the castle, or feeling magic's presence for the first time. Red and silver sparks burst from the wand's tip and hovered in the air for a moment before dissipating. "Wow," he said, unable to stay silent any longer. Cailean let out a cry of triumph, but cut it off quickly. He did not want to be overheard, and what was he feeling so triumphant about? Was he a wizard, or did magic affect everyone like this?

His breathing had sped up, and sweat poured down his face. But he didn't notice. Or if he had, he did not appear to care. Whether or not he was a wizard, he definitely felt the strength of magic in his body, and that was good enough for him. Aed was here somewhere, and he was going to find her no matter who or what got in his way.

A/N: Cailean's back, and he's on a mission. The Statute of Secrecy is going to be blown apart unless the Order can stop the Muggle they don't know exists. And we also have Narcissa on the loose doing Merlin knows what. In this chapter, I attempted to explore what it would be like fighting all of the anti-Muggle protections and wards that are ever-present around the castle. How long would it take to power all those wards again? The task force Minerva enlisted definitely has their work cut out for them. Anyway, I hope you are all looking forward to the next chapter. I'll be uploading regularly until around Chapter 18 if all goes well. After that, well just make sure you follow the story. :)