Harry honestly wondered if he'd ever get used to the using the Time Flower. He hoped not. There were certain things in the world that one should never grow bored with, in his opinion, as it meant that more of the magic that existed in life had been leached away. It was one of the reasons why he made sure to spend so much time with his Pokemon; so that he never forgot how special they truly were. Far too many trainers in Avalon (and, he imaged, in the rest of the world) saw their Pokemon as just a given and that was something that Harry never wanted to happen to him. He wanted to keep a firm grasp on how utterly special his Pokemon were and how truly lucky he was to have them in his life.
The same with the Time Flower. The power that it brought forth, the ability to enter into the past and see things that people of the modern age had never seen… it was simply awe inspiring.
All his cynicism and loathing for the world around him drained away as he looked around the illusion the Time Flower had created, taking it all in.
The last time he'd entered the illusion it had shown a field at night, with long grass and a forest in the distance and a sky with the brightest, most beautiful star-covered sky he'd ever seen. This time though he found himself in an ancient Avalon village, the kind that only existed now at the recreation of Griflet's Hollow that, according to Remus, was a popular tourist attraction where people rode around on old fashion steam trains, visited staged classes in the town school house, and bought tacky souvenirs because that was just something you did while on vacation.
This village though was the real thing. Like out of a postcard. Small little houses made of logs that had been bound tightly together so that no matter how hard the wind blew it could never get through the cracks. There were no signs to show who lived where or if one house wasn't a home but a blacksmith or a tavern but Harry had the feeling that for the people that called this place home they'd always know, even if blindfolded. The snowdrifts gathered up against the walls of the buildings and on the roofs of the houses, which made it odd for Harry that he didn't feel the slightest bit of a chill. The people that were walking around were wearing mostly leathers and furs (and he decided not to think of how they'd gotten the pelts as he doubted very much, considering one resembled Tauros hide, it was synthetic), all with faces that spoke of knowing what it was like to get by thanks to an honest day's work. It all gave the feeling of one of those Solistice Villages that Mrs. Weasley liked to set up during the holiday.
'Except not quite,' Harry thought as he walked around the illusion, Dumbledore just observing as Harry took in the sights. 'Because when you dig down a bit you can see the reality leaking through.' It was the little things that revealed that this wasn't some peaceful picture, like a puzzle one would find lining the shelves of toy stores. The main lane through the village was muddy and covered in ruts. None of the houses had the cheery windows one would have expected, going with heavy shutters to cut out the cold. What stone was used had chips and cracks and one roof had been hastily patched. A Mudsdale that was chewing on some hay wasn't the happy or blissfully unaware creature that many would have dreamed would live in such a place but rather a grumpy looking Pokemon who eyed everyone warily; even Harry despite him not even actually being there! The villagers' clothing was patched and worn, many of them not fitting properly for they had been handed down from generation to generation. There was no festive feeling in the air either; no sense that the people loved their lives. This was reality, harsh and hard, where one had to do all they could if they wished to make it and survive.
Harry, oddly enough, appreciated that far more than he would have the false cheer of some fake village.
"This time flower was harvested about 20 miles north of Lamorak's Pass. The village, my boy, no longer exists… I went there once, curious about the location this flower shows, but all I found was an empty field and a few trees." He paused, squinting at a rock. "That might have been still there but honestly all rocks look the same until they reveal they have arms and eyes." He chuckled at his joke. "But what we are looking at… we might be the only two souls who now know it existed." He held his arms out wide. "All of this… completely forgotten thanks to the passage of time. And even with us knowing about it there is only a little we do know."
"Like what?" Harry asked.
"Well… the name of the village, for one," Dumbledore pointed out. "When it was created. When it was abandoned. The why for both of those… people don't just suddenly decide to create a society without reason. They are very hard work, after all! And people are loathed to leave something they created without a good reason either. Was there a sickness? A natural disaster? Maybe the children or the children's children, or someone else long down the line decided they didn't like the village anymore and all left. It has happened… it is why traditions and values among a group of people are so important. That breeds loyalty and dedication to the homeland.
"And then there are the people as well. The Time Flower… it is like a picture. Or a video perhaps. It tells us much but in the end it turns out to be very little. Just a few moments in the life of this village. But what happened before and what happened after… I've only been able to piece bits of it together but that is it. Just the small details… important ones, yes, but not everything. Their lives, their experiences… so much lost forever. It makes one feel like all life is rather meaningless if an entire existence is utterly forgotten. Without the Time Flower they might as well have never lived to begin with." He paused, turning and looking past Harry towards the road that lead in and out of town. "Ah… but here is something I do know… and the reason we are here."
Harry turned around and instantly spotted what Dumbledore was talking about, though he didn't know what was so important about a lone traveler. He was middle aged, but perhaps he was younger than Harry expected and it was just how worn down his features appeared. Not so much wrinkles but a face filled with creases and lines from a life hard lived. His hair was short and brown though there were a few whispers of gray in his locks around the temples. He was dressed in traveling clothes: thick pants, heavy soled boots, a long coat over a woolen shirt and vest, furry hand wraps, and a wide brimmed hat. All of which were stained with mud and grime from traveling the roads. A heavy walking staff was in his hands and it clearly wasn't the professionally made kind of stick that one could buy in a store. This had been made and cared for by the owner.
At his side, trudging through the snow, were a pair of Pokemon. A strange white horse-like Pokémon with ice around its hooves and mane had saddle bags on its back while bouncing beside the man was a Grumpig…
"Wait…" Harry said, suddenly remembering just WHO Dumbledore had said they were there to observe. "Is that-"
"He's not what you expected?"
"Not at all," Harry said as he stared at Merlin himself.
He'd seen plenty of pictures of Avalon's greatest hero. Most of them were of him as an old man, looking quite a bit like Dumbledore if he were honest. Long white hair and beard, flowing robes covered in stars and moons, a long cap, wizen and bent from age but still holding power within his form. There were some ones of him as a young man though… mostly Merlin dressed in simple clothing, wild haired and running about in the wilds of ancient Avalon, barefoot and carefree.
But this Merlin?
This was a Merlin Harry could believe had fought in wars and smashed together the heads of disagreeing kings and charmed women from shore to shore. A Merlin who didn't waste his life away in a lab nor frittered it away on meaningless days of pleasure.
One of the villagers, a younger man with a bowl cut, perked up as Merlin neared them and dropped the hammer he'd been using to resecure a board on a house before dashing to greet the legendary trainer.
"Good Master Wild!" the villager called out, hurrying over to Merlin who managed a smile that looked a bit strained to Harry's eyes.
"Master Wild?"
"His name," Dumbledore said with an amused smile.
"I meant I've never heard his last name before."
"It isn't rarely used, I'll admit," the headmaster stated. "For most people he is simply Merlin but to the scholars of his life he is Merlin of the Wild, Merlin Wyld, or Myrryn Wyld. It honestly depends on who was writing down the chronicles. I dare say even he at times couldn't remember which name was the one he was born with… he had so many."
The villager that had called out to Merlin moved to help him with his saddle bags but the traveling trainer merely waved him off. "You have returned!"
"I said I would, Jon," Merlin told him, reaching over with his free hand and patting the man on the shoulder. "And I keep my promises."
"Just never let us know when," another villager, around Merlin's age with a scar on his cheek, said from where he was working on gathering firewood from a pile outside a house.
Merlin ignored the comment and focused on Jon. "I have been circling Avalon, as is my want, and with nothing to draw my attention away from my route I thought now was the best time to return and check in on all of you. How is that wife of yours?"
"Well, Master Wild, very well," Jon told him. "Or as well as she can be with all that plagues us."
Merlin's face dropped at that and he let go of Jon's shoulder, moving to check on the saddle bags the mysterious ice horse Pokemon was wearing. His Grumpig, Hogwarts, watched him with his own look of grim acceptance. Harry could tell from the way the man moved, with his shoulders slumped and his movements forced and slightly jerky, that he was suddenly in a foul mood.
'And I think I know why,' Harry thought to himself as Jon and several other villagers looked at Merlin like he was a savior come galloping in to save the day rather than a tired traveler who just wanted to reconnect with some old friends.
"This village," Dumbledore told him softly while Merlin remained silent, not even looking at the villagers as he rummaged through his pack looking for… Harry was pretty sure nothing at all, "was one of many that was held under the domain of a Spiritomb you might be familiar with."
"Voldemort," Harry murmured, looking up at the Headmaster who quietly nodded. "He attacked this village?"
"He attacked a lot of villages. He moved through Avalon back then, not taking bodies but rather just souls. He'd demand a tribute… a living person that he might feed upon, consuming all that made them them. If he was given that then he would move on, troubling some other village. If they tried to deny him his payment…" Dumbledore trailed off, shaking his head. "Well, everyone that tried to fight back ended up wishing they'd just given him what he wanted."
"But Merlin defeated him," Harry pointed out.
"Defeated though not destroyed," Dumbledore reminded him, as if Harry could ever forget that fact what with the spirit still hunting him now. "But still, that reprieve was more than enough for the people of Avalon. It made a name for Merlin-"
He stopped as the man in question finally turned back to the villagers and asked, in a tone that made clear he really wished he could be discussing something else, "What seems to be the problem Jon?"
"It's bandits, Master Wild," Jon said, misery filling his words. Several other villagers nodded their heads in agreement, fear in their eyes. "They came upon us a few weeks ago and began to cause trouble… stealing from our winter supplies, harassing the women, one of them even threatened to knife Richard-"
"Has anyone done anything to stop them?" Merlin asked the gathered group. "Stood up to them?"
"Oh, we could never do that!" one of the village women cried out, wringing her hands and fretting at the very thought. "How could we ever hope to face them?"
Merlin, for his part, didn't act as the story books might have told the tale. There was no patient explanation of how they were stronger than they thought they were. No volunteering to teach them how to fight back. No kind smiles and reassurances that he'd help them learn what needed to be done. Instead Merlin let out a grumble and rolled his eyes before jerking the strap of his saddle backs, shutting it up tight before turning finally to the villagers with a look of utter exasperation.
"How many of the bastards are there, hmmm? A hundred? A thousand?"
"Oh no, nothing like that Master Wild," Jon assured him. "Only three or so I believe."
"Then less a gang of bandits and more a small group of lawless men."
The worrying woman trembled at that. "One of their kind is enough!"
Merlin gave her an utterly flat look before he motioned for Hogwarts to follow him, the Grumpig nodding and marching forward with the horse pokemon just a few steps behind, causing frost to form with each touch of its hoof on the ground. "Yes, Maryella. We all wish we could live in a world where there was no pain or death or outlaws and summer never ended and kings were kind and heroes truly rode on Rapidashes. That isn't real though."
Maryella huffed at that, going from worried to annoyed. "I KNOW that, Master Wild! Which is why it is so good you have come! You can take care of this."
"Why?"
"Pardon?"
"Why must I be the one to take care of this?" he asked, finally turning to look at the villagers.
"You… that is what you do!" one called out.
Merlin let out a scoff. "Because it is demanded of me. Every single village I visit needs me to protect them and help them and solve their problems. And when I get done doing all that they find MORE things for me to fix! I swear they create problems just to keep me from resting." His shoulders slumped. "All I want to do… is rest."
"But Master Wild," Jon said softly, "none of us can rest. Not with the outlaws-"
"You are resting right now!" Merlin snapped in frustration. "You aren't risking your lives to take care of your problems! You just waited for me or some other bloke to show up that could be tricked into settling things for you!" He looked skyward, as if he expected the answer to suddenly drift down from the clouds like snowflakes.
"We… we can't do what you do, Master Wild," someone called out from the crowd. "We aren't you."
"Have you tried?" Merlin asked in annoyance. "Have any of you ever tried to stand up for yourself? Or if not for yourself then what of your friends? Your family? Those you say you love? Have any of you ever considered rising up and being the hero?" He saw them shuffling and looking down at their feet. "Of course not. That would be too hard." He looked down at his Grumpig who let out a snort of derision.
"We aren't you, Master Wild," Jon complained suddenly, stepping forward. "We could never do what you do!"
"Why not?" Merlin asked. "Do you think I was born this way? That I came squirming out of the womb ready to fight evil? Of course not. I had such things thrust upon me, and unlike all of you-" he swept his staff in a wide arch, motioning at the villagers that had gathered to plead their case, "-I didn't slink away or beg someone else to take care of the problem. I did it myself. There are men here… at least ones that look like men, even if they don't act like it." A few of the villagers bristled at that but at Merlin's cool gaze they back down, refusing to meet his challenge. "You work the fields, tend to the animals, build your homes. You are strong. Stronger than some lazy brigands that get through life abusing others and taking what they haven't earned."
"But we don't fight," someone said, earning a scoff of derision from now both Hogwarts and Merlin.
"You learn," Merlin finally said. "And even then… how many of you are in this village? 15? 20? Strong men able to work the fields and chop the trees. You have axes, you have hoes. Use them! Use your weapons and your numbers! Fight. Back."
"…but they have Pokemon."
Merlin's shoulders slumped and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "They have Pokemon," he said slowly, like he was talking to a child. Which, from the way the villagers were acting… "Tell me… what is that?"
"That… that's my Stoutland," Maryella said. "My husband and mine."
"Is it a chair? Or a barrel?" The villagers didn't answer. "No… it's a Pokemon."
"I couldn't have it fight," Maryella exclaimed.
"You have it to guard your house, do you not? To protect the Torchics that lay your eggs. Do you think he looks at the Thievul and goes, "Oh my, please don't do that… if you do I'll just wait until someone else comes to stop you"? No! He fights them off. Barks and snaps and snarls." Merlin chopped his one hand into his open palm. "And if he can do that to Thievul he can do it to whatever Pokemon these bandits have keeping their camp." He gestured at another house were a Perserker was watching him from a window. "That one's claws are steel. They can cut through metal easily enough. I've seen trained one slice apart swords. It certainly could cut through a bandit."
The villagers just stared at him.
"You lot… you pathetic lot."
"Oh? is that how ya see us?" a creaky voice called out and Merlin turned, the crowd seeing his rage and parting so that Merlin could see an old bent man with a short beard and a few teeth missing in his mouth glare at the traveler. Merlin tilted his head slightly and let out a sigh, a look of peeved annoyance flashing across his face. "The great and mighty Merlin, always stirring up trouble, always looking for a fight… then whining when we don't like the same thing."
"Hello Jeffers," Merlin said coolly. "I see you've gotten more wrinkly and bitter since I saw you last. Did the medicine take care of the warts on your penis?"
"Meddler!" Jeffers declared, wagging a knife he'd been using to whittle in Merlin's direction. "That's all you are! A meddler who is never satisfied. Ya want to cause trouble! And if that ain't enough ya want us to be just like ya!"
"I want you to stand up for yourselves. To stop being cowards. Maybe so then I wouldn't need to keep stepping in and cleaning up your messes."
"And yet have you ever noticed how trouble only seems to brew when you're around? You complain about the villages… how they don't worship you and dare ask for your help… help only needed because suddenly some problem arises just before you show up. Do you know why?"
"Is this where you claim that I cause things? That I pay off bandits and thieves to harass you so that I might look the hero? I've heard that song before Jeffers, sung by much pleasanter voices."
The old man seemed taken aback by that before rallying, shaking as he jabbed the knife in Merlin's direction once more. "You're cursed! Every bad thing that ever existed knows to show up when you're around. You're dark cloud, Merlin Wild. An ill omen. Merlin Poorfated, I name you."
"Now I see why no woman wants to be with you, Jeffers," Merlin said with a smirk. "Well, that and the warts. Though I pity what any child would have been named should you have been their father. So little imagination."
The old man turned bright red at that, jaw clenched as the villagers tittered nervously at the insult. "This is all your fault and then you complain that we expect you to clean up your messes."
"Yes, because I have magic and it makes bad things happen to you," the traveler said with a weary sigh. "Not even you are that dim, Jeffers. There is superstition and there is foolishness and that is what you are right now." And with that Merlin turned away from the old man, and began to make his way towards one of the houses, clearly knowing which one he'd be able to spend the night at.
"That ain't what I'm talking about!" Jeffers cried out, clearly enraged at being disregarded by the traveling trainer. "You know why those cut throats are out there? Because you took away our protection!"
Merlin stopped.
"What… did you say?"
Jeffers just sneered in Merlin's direction. "You heard me, Merlin Stormcloud. Everything ill that has happened with those thieves is because of you and your meddling. You couldn't leave well enough alone and now we are at that mercy! And you are too much of a coward to even make right all you've done wrong!"
Merlin, ever so slowly, turned.
Not his entire body. His feet remained planted on the muddy ground. But he shifted his torso and his head so he was looking right back at Jeffers, eyes cold and hard.
"Is this about the Spiritomb?" he asked in a low voice, barely a whisper and certainly more quiet than the loud boasting and bellows that Jeffers had just been using. But with the quiet that had fallen ove rhte village it sounded, to Harry, like a gun shot. Deafening. "Are you… truly mad… that I defeated that Spiritomb."
Jeffers looked around at the startled and shocked faces of his neighbors before puffing out his chest, emboldened by their surprise. "Yes. That's what I'm saying. Things were hard under it but there was a system in place. Rules. You followed them and you were fine. But you... you ruined everything. You meddled and interfered in things that weren't your business and now we have these bandits that are running about stealing from us and causing trouble. Because of you, Merlin!"
"That… monster… was killing people," Merlin said, his voice still low but now with a tremble, like distant thunder on the horizon. "He came and demanded innocents so he might consume their souls. He didn't care who he was given… he just wanted them. I saw what he did to villages and towns… how he turned them against one another. He didn't even have to say a word. He just showed up and people, to save themselves, would sacrifice their friends, their neighbors, their families! I saw a mother throw her child to him and then sob and whine about how unfair it was. Oh… I enjoyed using that one as bait to lure that phantom out!" The villagers all stared at Merlin in horror at that admission but he wasn't done, now finally turning so he could fully direct his rage at Jeffers. "He sucked them dry… and would have killed all of you too! Do you realize that?"
"He protected us," Jeffers snapped. "We did as he said and paid his fee and he kept the bandits and the thieves and all the rest in line."
"He would have killed you all if he felt like it!" Merlin thundered. "You weren't his loyal subjects you were his cattle, fattened up for when he came around. He let you live so that you might reproduce and give him an endless supply of souls!"
"As compared to what we face now? Back then only one of us was in danger-"
"All of you were in danger!" Merlin threw his hands in the air. "Are you truly that blind? Do you not see? He whispered the pretty little lie about his rules and how he'd obey them… but then he'd change them to suit his own greedy desires."
"Tis true," Maryella said. "He said he would only take one of us last year but then when he came back again he demanded two! Said we hadn't given him a proper meal."
"So?" Jeffers scoffed. "One day of terror… the rest of the year at peace."
"One day of terror and then a year tried to ignore the sobs of your parents knowing their child is dead. Of not looking in the direction of your neighbor's home because you know there is an empty place at the table. Of fearing he might came back because it wasn't a year yet, it was only a few months and soon would have been a few weeks!"
"What do I care about them for?" Jeffers snapped. "None of them mean nothing to me!"
"And you care so little for yourself? A long life seasons a soul good!"
"The Spiritomb would never take me," Jeffers argued.
"You don't know that."
That caused Jeffers to blurt out, "We had a deal!"
Even the wind itself seemed to freeze at that.
"What?" Merlin whispered. Jeffers, jaw working, stared down Merlin before turning towards his home only for Hogwarts to use his psychic energy to grab him and yank him away from his home, holding him in the air for all to see. "What did you say?"
"Let me go you filthy bastard!"
"Answer the question," Merlin said darkly. "You had a deal with the Spiritomb?" Jeffers refused to say a word. "How many people died because of you? Hmmm? How many?" Hogwarts gave the old man a violent shake. "Answer me!"
But Jeffers kept his jaw firmly locked up tight. And a glance around the village showed several other people looking away, guilt or fear in their features. Not of Merlin, or the topic at hand… but of being found out.
"What… what will you do with him?" Jon finally asked.
"Me?" Merlin said with a bitter laugh. "Me? Nothing." Hogwarts released the old man, causing him to fall to the ground, crying out in pain as a snap was heard; something had been broken in the drop. "That's up to all of you. He's one of yours… you're the ones he betrayed…" The villagers stared at him and Merlin scoffed. "This is what I fought for: cowards and traitors."
And with that he walked away, the memory coming to an end and Harry finding himself and the headmaster once more standing in his office.
"Do you know why I showed you this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry scoffed. "To show me that most Avalonians have always been cowards? Or maybe that there have traitors who will sell out their neighbors and friends to Voldemort since he first appeared? Oh, I know! It was that Avalon always expects someone else to clean up their messes and after they do they then throw a fit that the hero didn't do it just the way they wanted?"
Dumbledore shot him a steady look. "You can answer without the cheek, Harry."
He grimaced at that. "Yeah, sorry."
"As for why… no, none of those reasons." He moved back to his desk, folding his hands in front of him and smiling sadly. "No one knows what happened with that village."
"What do you mean?"
"The outlaws. No one knows what Merlin did. If he actually went to stop them, if he guilted the villagers into doing it themselves, if he left them to their fate. It is possible the reason the village no longer exists is they were all killed off. Or maybe they did become stronger, fought back their attackers, and something else caused them to leave. Or Merlin did it himself. Same with the fate of Jeffers. No one knows what happened to him.
"That is the thing you must remember about life, Harry. Everything we think is so important in the moment, that deserves our rage or our love or our attention… it will be eventually forgotten. If a great man like Merlin, a hero known to every person in Avalon… has so much of his life missing. Forgotten. What hope do we have?"
"So its all… meaningless?" Harry asked. He found that rather nihilistic for Dumbledore.
"In the grand scheme of the world? Yes." The headmaster smiled slightly. "But… there is an old saying: 'The greatest joy is to, upon your end, look Arceus in the eye… and whisper, "I did better than you"'. We become so focus on the grand scheme and legacies… that we forget that we must live for ourselves." He shrugged. "For in the end… we'll be the only ones who remember."
-Dumbledore asks Harry if he thinks Merlin helped the village or not and that history has no idea if he did. And that was the point. Sadly, much of what they do will never be remembered. They think their lives are so important… but they aren't. So much is just background that fades away.
