The trip to Wales was a bit of a slog. In a rare reversal, Hermione was the one champing at the bit to get there as soon as possible, while Ron was cast in the role of the pragmatist and voice of reason, moderating her enthusiasm.
At his urging, the Trio ended up packing their equipment, and supplies, much in the same manner as they had when on the run from Death Eaters for the past year.
Perhaps it was his keen memories of the quality of food they had to deal with, but Ron ended up arranging for a months supply of meals to be made up, and placed under preservation charms, and several months worth of basic cooking supplies to be thrown in as well.
Harry's contribution to the process, much to Hermione's consternation, was suggesting travel by broom. It wasn't a mode of transport she was overly fond of, but his point that they didn't know of any convenient Floo points, and had never been so they couldn't Apparate to it, swayed her in the end.
Hermione meanwhile, had been diving into the books, like she did best. To her annoyance, Cad Gadu seemed to be determined to be elusive. It wasn't in any of the history books that she tried, it wasn't in Notable Locations of Magical Britain. She ended up having to resort to the Restricted Section, where Madam Pince had reluctantly directed them to the De Tribunali Britanniae. It was an old tome, written on vellum and beautifully illuminated. Sadly, that did not appease Hermione, who had a fit upon learning that it was entirely in Latin, and had never been translated.
It's not that she didn't know Latin, of course. All students were at least a bit fluent in Magical Latin, a dialect distinct from British Latin and Ecclesiastical Latin, both of which had evolved to the point of no longer being mutually intelligible with the former. This was owed to the relative isolation of the Wizarding community, and the fact that Latin was still the common language predominantly used for magic, and had continued evolving, despite being a dead language in the Muggle world.
Still though, despite her fluency, she was annoyed, because while she could understand the words, she had to read so much slower than she was accustomed to. As a result, it was nearly a week before she made any real discoveries.
"Got it!" She said triumphantly, standing up from the chair she was reading in at the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Something for us then? Maybe a location?" Ron asked, looking up from his chess game with Harry. Unlike her, he positively oozed relaxation, as he had finished the packing days ago and was ready to depart at the drop of a hat.
"Here, I'll read and translate. Cad Gadu was a covenant located twenty-five leagues east of the coast, and thirty leagues north of southernmost Gwynedd and northernmost Deheubarth, deep in the mountains of Snowdonia. It was the great house of Ex Miscellanea, and the last known location of Pralix filius Tytalus Ex Miscellanea. It is a region located on an island in the middle of the lake. While it is abandoned now, the custom was to be invited to Cad Gadu, lest risk being turned away. Walking the footpath allows visitors to descend further into the region."
"How good of a translation is that?" Harry asked, getting up from his chair to look at the section Hermione was pointing at with her finger. "I'm not doubting you, Merlin knows you are better at Latin than I am, but some of the verbiage used seemed a bit unclear."
"Its hard to say," Hermione shrugged helplessly. "Latin was the lingua franca, so to speak. But this book was written eight hundred years ago, and the language has drifted. It may be that we are missing some context for what the author meant. I can tell you that covenant doesn't appear to mean what we might normally call it. The same word appears fairly often in the text, and it appears to denote a group of wizards, officially and legally recognized as living together. I think. I also translated great house literally, but it is capitalized here, so I wonder if it is actually referring to some special status. Like the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, that sort of thing."
"What is the original term then?" Ron asked, chiming in.
"Domus Magna." Hermione replied, glancing up at him.
"That's interesting. Yeah, it means great house, but there is a bit of a cultural aspect to it," Ron explained. "You know how most pureblood families have Latin slogans? Well there is a custom to denote your primary holding as the Domus Magna. Like, Malfoy Manor would be the Domus Magna of the Malfoys. Bill mentioned it some time ago when he was going on about curse-breaking in Europe. Apparently it was in vogue for a bit to set up the house wards, and then tie them off with the family slogan, followed by a bit about the Domus Magna."
"Really? I never knew that? Do they still do that?" Hermione asked, a glint of curiosity flashing in her eyes.
"Nah, of course not. It's a practice that's mostly died out, because only tossers really did it. To have a Domus Magna, a real one that is, you need to have a really large family, a central holding where the family is governed from, and a lot of holdings to distinguish it. Even if you were a prick like Malfoy, going around saying your house is a Domus Magna is pretentious beyond belief, because they only have a handful of properties. It's like winning a hundred galleons on a Quidditch match, and suddenly going on about needing a financial advisor. Sure, it's a nice bit of dosh, but not nearly enough to be going on like you are some blue-blood noble."
"I'm still not really sure I follow," Harry admitted, mildly lost. "Does it actually do anything for those families?"
"I can see I am not explaining this well," Ron said, as he muttered under his breath. "Alright listen. The Ministry is corrupt, and generally useless, right? Well most wizards tend to form their own groups. If they become big enough, you start needing bureaucracy to really govern them. Think about it like this. Dumbledore's Army, was a small group, barely a book club. Same with Slughorn's club. Easily managed, easily steered. But a group like say, House Gryffindor, is big, and needs it's prefects and Head of House. They are like a House in miniature, a society of wizards with a shared background and common values. Gryffindor Tower would be the Domus Magna, so to speak.
The point is centralization. You get a really big extended family, or society, or any other group, you need a central location where administration of the family occurs."
Ron scratched his chin a bit in thought, before continuing.
"Malfoy's Manor isn't a real one because Lucius manages his own money and family business, and won't be subordinate to anyone, and you can count members of that family on one hand. My family has enough members to be sure, but there isn't any particular hierarchy going on there. Mum might tell Bill how to live his life, but she isn't forcing him or anything." He pointed out.
"The Blacks would have counted. There were certainly enough members around before the first war, and they had both the money and attitude to act as such. The Death Eaters might have counted, but they weren't really around long enough. They had the members, the finances, and the structure to require a Domus Magna, but those tend only to be formalized once you have an informal power-base. You have to be ruling from one place long enough to become known for it, and not being sanctioned by the Ministry and having to move bases every so often puts a damper on the time needed to cement it in people's memory."
"So what, you are saying they are like a capital? Like London or Washington?" Hermione questioned.
"Exactly!" Ron said enthusiastically, glad that someone was understanding. "The Ministry is bad today, but it was even worse a couple decades ago, if you can believe it. Voldemort's war and Grindelwald were actually both major impetuses towards centralization, and increasing power of the government. Before that, all the Ministry really did with any teeth was enforcing the Statute, which is why that's still most of the work the government does.
Before the Ministry slowly pushed them into irrelevance, societies like Gryffindor Alumni, the Potions Guild, the Collegium of Enchanters, and of course the really large families like the Blacks and the Prewetts, served as essentially informal governing bodies."
"Feudalism, you mean to say," Hermione remarked, frowning. "I suppose it isn't all too surprising, considering how slowly the Wizarding World is to progress. After all, I doubt Napoleon was ever raining artillery on wizards."
"I reckon you might be right," Ron said, nodding his head in acknowledgment. "But there was never any kings in particular. Mostly families which were held accountable by other families. That is actually why blood purity was an important part of politics. If you weren't part of the in group, then you weren't governable, nor under protection. So when back in the old days, if some loony Black Head of House ended up blasting someone off the family tree, they were essentially declaring them an outlaw. Said wizard would have no access to family resources, and no protection from other wizards, while the House of Black would not be called to reign in or control the poor sod."
"So then muggleborns would come in, and graduate Hogwarts with only the dubious protection of an alumnus society, at best." Hermione concluded, an angry look on her face. "And even if they could join a guild or group, those might be easily bullied by stronger and more martial groups, and they could never join a pureblood family, save through marriage to tolerant ones."
"Charming," Harry jumped in, clearly seeing the signs of a brewing rant about the criminal lack of meritocracy in society. "That said, we have a location now right? Is there any reason we can't start our search?"
"Not particularly," Hermione said, looking a bit peeved that she was interrupted. "I'll alert the Headmistress that we are going on vacation to Wales. I'll emphasize that we only want to be interrupted for a genuine emergency. Ron was right, even if this weren't an interesting mystery, we deserve a few days alone and stress-free."
"Right then. Depart tomorrow morning, around 9:00?" Harry asked, not expecting any real dissent. A pair of nods answered that question, and Hermione ended up waving as she bustled out of the Common Room and off to make arrangements with everyone.
The next morning came around, with sunlight bursting through the clouds, birds filling the air with song, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry grudgingly climbing the Astronomy tower yet again.
"Bit of a twisted sense of humor you've got Harry," Ron said, a flat look on his face as he looked over the edge.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Harry deflected glibly. Both Ron and Hermione leveled flat stares at him, which he shrugged off like a duck shedding water.
Harry gripped his broom and kicked off, casually hovering in place. Some time after the Final Battle, he had gone looking to see if he could replace his beloved Firebolt, but the lead time on high end brooms was years long. Voldemort's actions disrupted the supply chain for most magical equipment, and it would take years to recover to it's former glory. With that in mind, Harry just opted to buy a cheap aftermarket broom to use in the interim.
Ron and Hermione tossed looks at each other, before both of the kicked off, Ron with the confident self-assuredness of an experienced Quidditch player, and Hermione with the nervous stiffness which still plagued her, a legacy of trying to take a by the book approach to an activity governed mostly by instinct.
"Right then. Obviously, we won't be flying the whole way. I reckon we fly out past the castle wards as a bit of a warm-up, stretch our muscles and get comfortable, and then we Apparate closer to Wales. I reckon the Forest of Dean is the closest we've been yeah?" Harry said, rubbing his hands together to warm them in the brisk morning air.
"Blimey, back to the Forest of Dean?" Ron said, chuckling a bit. "I'd say I'm nostalgic, but I reckon not enough time has passed for that. Still though, try not to jump into any ponds. We know where the Sword of Gryffindor is at now, and I reckon we aren't going to be running into Excalibur either."
"It's a short stop this time," Hermione said, slowly relaxing into a routine as she drifted sedately towards the boys. "We might have time for a short picnic, but after that, we are flying northwest until we reach the mountains."
"Did you get a map to Cad Gadu by the way?" Harry asked.
"Well its not listed on any maps that I was able to see," Hermione said, somewhat crossly as they flew past the Lake. "I was able to find maps for the borders of the Welsh Kingdoms, so that at least gives us a starting point. Thirty leagues north of the border where the two kingdoms touched, and then twenty-five east of the coast. Once we are within a league or so of it, we might have to just meander around."
"Point Me Cad Gadu" Ron said, balancing his wand on his palm. It floated up gently, and began spinning in circles.
"Well, it was worth a shot anyways." He said sheepishly, looking at an exasperated Hermione.
"Honestly Ron, remember when the Baron said it was still warded? It's not going to be that easy. Besides, I already tried a couple options to find it, and none of them worked. Even an owl, and it just stared at me confused. No, we are going to have to find it by actually searching for it." She replied.
"There's no reason we can't think outside the box though, yeah?" Ron asked. "Either of you grab a map of Wales?"
Both Hermione and Harry looked into their packs, and started scrounging around, but Harry ended up beating her with some Muggle tourist pamphlet for Snowdonia National Park. Harry tossed it to Ron, but didn't account for the wind, forcing Ron to lazily summon it before it got blown away.
"Right then," Ron said, opening the pamphlet and quickly scanning it. "We can just enchant the map, and make it easier to search for this place."
"Ron, we don't have the notes from the Marauders regarding how they made their map," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
"We don't need them." He retorted. "Listen, we have a marginally accurate map of Wales here. I reckon we go to three of these towns, due south, north east, and north west. We mark the places on the map, and then once we are inside the park, we set it to track where we've been, so we don't get lost in the air and cover the same area twice."
"How do you propose to do that?" Hermione said, confused. "It sounds like you are skipping a few steps."
"Well, you would need to be the one to do it," Ron said, his face growing red. "But Dad was talking about some of his work with GPS. Apparently making properties Unplottable, or tossing up a Fidelius makes it a nightmare to keep things working with the lads in the Muggle military. I was curious about how it worked, and he explained a bit about triangulation. Now 'Mione, you're the one who took Arithmancy, so you would know how to do it, but if we cast a Point Me to each of the three cities and then North, I think we can use the angles to work out where we are within the triangle."
"And then we enchant the map to constantly track where we are, and mark where we've been!" Hermione finished, a wide grin on her face. "Ron, that's brilliant. I can't believe I didn't think of that."
"Well, it's not that impressive," He said, his cheeks graduating from a light pink to a full blush. "We already knew the Marauder's map was possible, and I've had all week to think about this while you've been trying to read that Latin book all the while."
"Oh, come off it Ron, and accept the praise. You're too humble, you know that?" Harry said laughing.
As they continued to fly out toward the edge of the Hogwart's grounds, Hermione and Ron continued discussing the idea, though thankfully she didn't descend too far into the gritty details of the math.
Once they passed through the wards, they felt the now familiar sensation of passing through some sort of tingly membrane, and Harry waved his hand to signal a descent. Once everyone was on the ground, they huddled together, and decided to have Hermione take everyone via Side-Along, since she was the most familiar with the location, and didn't want to lose anyone in the woods.
With an audible crack, the bright openness of the Scottish Highlands gave way to a shaded forest in the midst of summer, with green and yellow leaves scattered over their heads and a woody underbrush which seemed far more clear and peaceful than the Forbidden Forest. A dappling of light danced over the bushes from rays of sunlight peeking through the leaves.
The trio sat down to have a quick brunch, being late in the morning by now. Hermione conjured a few tables, Harry conjured a blanket, and Ron ended up transfiguring a fallen log into a table. They brought out some sandwiches and butterbeer which had been stored in Hermione's bag, and passed them out. Once they were finished eating, they got back on brooms again, and left their little picnic area to revert to normal.
Once in the air, they made their way north, aiming for a small town on the southern edge of the park. They had all Disillusioned themselves, and thrown on Impervious charms and Warming charms, to make the flight comfortable.
Once they arrived, Harry pointing out the houses in the distance, they hovered midair, and Hermione tapped the map with her wand to mark the town's location magically. They spent the rest of the day getting to the other two towns, where the same scene played itself out.
"Alright, I reckon we have time to do an hour of searching before nightfall," Said Harry, shouting over the wind which had picked up substantially. "Hermione, do you have the map working yet?"
"No, the damned wind is messing it up," Hermione yelled back, aggravated. She jabbed her wand at the paper, but sure enough the gust of wind blew it and fouled her aim by an inch or so. She let out a string of curses at that.
"Ron, where are you at?" Harry yelled, ignoring Hermione's predicament.
"Over here," Ron answered. He let out a bright red spark denoting his position, which drew Harry's attention easily, years of Seeker duty conditioning him to search for glints of light.
"This would be so much easier if we weren't all disillusioned," Harry moaned in annoyance.
"Enough of that, we don't need the Ministry breathing down our neck," Hermione said, setting the map on her lap for the moment. "Lets go down to the ground, and figure things out there."
"How?" Ron replied bluntly. "If we all go down invisible, we might lose each other. And lifting the charm puts us back in danger of being spotted by Muggles. Sides, we don't know if any area down there is empty. Be just our luck if some hiker runs across us while we are huddled over a map with our wands out."
"And I suppose you have a better idea?" Harry asked sarcastically.
"Sure," Ron said, flying nearer to the hazy form of Harry. "Right, so as long as you aren't moving, brooms tend to hover just fine. Even adjust to the wind a bit. We just need to fly in sync."
Ron grabbed Harry's broom causing him to jerk in the air a bit.
"Dammit Ron, what are you doing?" Harry complained, trying to keep hold.
"Motus Geminus" Ron cast with a twirl of his wand. A ghostly tether seemed to form between the brooms, before disappearing.
"Don't move Harry. Our brooms are now synced. If one goes forward, the other is pulled along." Ron said, readjusting his grip. "Hermione, over here."
"What is the point of that?" Harry asked, as Hermione floated over. "Actually, where did you even learn that spell?"
"Learned it from Flitwick, actually," Ron said distractedly. "Wanted to see if he knew any good charms to fix Bludgers, at least ones without tamper-proofing. Wanted to pull one over on the twins, before, well, Seventh Year."
"And? What's it do?" Harry repeated.
"It's forces two objects to move at once. It's harder to move them, because both have combined inertia, but if you hit a Bludger north, the paired one inexplicable moves north at the same speed." Hermione jumped in.
"Right you are Hermione," Ron said, giving a little clap. "Now, I think you were the one with the tent yeah? Set it on the brooms with a Sticking charm, Disillusion it, and we should have a nice little room to take a breather."
Getting the gist of Ron's plan, the Trio ended up pulling out the tent which they had been using to traipse over Britain with over the past year, and tapped it to disguise it and set it up. It popped up like some inflatable Muggle toy, and Hermione cautiously stepped inside.
"You sure the brooms will hold this?" Hermione called from inside the entrance, slightly worried.
"It's fine Hermione," Harry said, carefully pulling himself in. "I am pretty sure the tent is enchanted to be about as heavy as two or three people, but doesn't actually weigh anything on it's own. Extension charms usually work that way yeah? Moody's trunk was only heavy because it was made out of oak, not because of anything stored in it. The tent is made of fabric, so it should only be a few pounds, but I reckon it's a bit more than that so it doesn't blow away with people in it overnight."
"Hadn't thought of that actually," Ron said, the last to come in. He closed the door, and reappeared as he canceled the magic over him, the others following suit. "I knew it was going to be light, because of the Extension charm, but I didn't think that someone would actually charm it heavier when deployed. Makes sense though. I just figured Sticking charms would have to do."
The tent was still decorated with the little bits of spell-work they had put up while on the run. A couple sheets of paper folded into origami, the animation spells no longer functioning. Some whittling projects in the kitchen area. Notes and papers everywhere, speculating on the location of various Horcruxes.
"Can't believe we never cleaned this place up," Harry muttered, looking around. Hermione clearly agreed with him, because she shuffled the papers from the table into a neat stack, and set them on the ground.
"Right then," Hermione said, laying out the pamphlet on the table. "We have our map, and we can go ahead and do a bit of enchanting work."
"Point me North, Point me Rhayader, Point me Anglesey, Point me Chester." Hermione incanted in rapid succession. She aligned the map to North with the first cast, before taking a quill and drawing a line through each city with the aid of a protractor with a tendency to align by itself. By the end, she had three lines, and the point where they met was a bit south-west of Chester.
"Right, so we know where we are, but you've drawn all over our map," Harry said, trying not to sound judgmental. He failed, but it was the thought that counted.
"Harry, how many times have you seen vanishing ink?" Hermione snarked back. "Between the Marauder's Map, Riddle's diary, and loads of products from the joke shop, you'd think you would at least suspect that first. Maybe have a little faith in me?"
Harry backed away from the table, holding his hands up in surrender. Hermione pointedly tapped each of the lines, which vanished one by one, until there was just the dots denoting the cities, and lines connecting them to form the triangle.
"It's Arithmancer's Ink, by the way. In case you were wondering." Hermione said, putting away the quill. "A bit too pricey to use for essay writing, unfortunately, but you can tap it, and each part which was drawn in one stroke will vanish. Handy for difficult calculations, or architectural work, really anything which you can't afford to leave mistakes on the paper."
"How long do you expect the map to be?" Ron asked, pulling up a chair.
"Probably thirty minutes to an hour. The Point me spell is really quite simple conceptually, it just gets information, and moves the wand. But I'll need four such spells running constantly, and then doing the math to work out where we are, as well as where we've been. Not difficult, but time-consuming and tedious."
"Anything we can do?" Harry asked, somewhat uncomfortable with leaving her to do all the work.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, and flicked her gaze to the tent flap covering the entrance.
"You can go ahead and watch to make sure we don't come unbalanced, or start loosing altitude, or become Disillusioned, Merlin forbid. If it looks like we are sinking, tweak the brooms up, and it should be fine."
Harry glanced over at Ron, who looked back impassively.
"Rock paper scissors for it?"Harry asked hopefully. Ron rolled his eyes but agreed. Harry picked paper. Ron picked scissors. Disappointed, Harry pulled up a chair near the entrance and made the flap transparent so he could watch. They ended up agreeing to swap off after an hour, in the event that things took longer than expected.
They did eventually make the swap, and Hermione eventually finished after about an hour and a half, complaining about the poor accuracy of the location. By this time though, night had fallen, so they carefully flew the broomsticks down to a seemingly empty clearing, before warding it to the gills so they could get some sleep.
Early the next morning, they got up and started their search in earnest, picking out the most likely location on the map, and spiraling outwards from it in an effort to not miss any ground.
The day passed without any success, so they went to the ground, slept in the tent overnight, and tried again the next day. And the day after that. The fourth day they did actually get lost, owing to Ron holding the map upside down during a crucial juncture, and wasted most of the day. The fifth day was mildly productive, but the sixth day drove them into the tent, as a massive thunderstorm was passing through the area, with vicious winds and frigid rain making it an unpleasant experience.
On the seventh day, they took to the skies again, albeit with much grumbling and complaining. Right up until they found something.
"You know, I wonder if we aren't going about this the wrong way." Harry mentioned offhandedly, lazily lying on his broom and searching the ground.
"How do you mean mate? Ron asked, holding a pair of Omnioculars to his face, scanning the horizon. That pair was actually the ones Harry had bought for him at Krum's Quidditch match, the summer before fourth year. A trickle of nostalgia warmed him, as he remembered the match.
"Well, most Wizarding places are Unplottable right? But are we not trying to plot it on a map right now?" Harry said, looking vague in the direction of where Hermione was hovering. Or rather, where the pamphlet was hovering, being the only part visible by virtue of needing to be read.
"I'm not sure that's how it works Harry," Hermione said, presumable shaking her head. "We are trying to plot ourselves, or rather where we've been previously. I would assume that if we fly through the wards, the lines where we've travels would pause for a moment, before picking up where they left off, but I don't think using a map in general will keep us away from Cad Gadu."
"Glad for that," Ron said, a chuckle in his voice. "If we had done all that work to get the map working, and it turned out to be useless, I'd be pissed."
"At least it's a gorgeous day," Hermione said, trying to find the silver lining in this.
It was true. It was a truly spectacular day. The sun was shining, the sky was a beautiful bright blue, and the mountains were striking, especially with the sunlight reflecting off the mountain lake.
Harry frowned, feeling like he was missing something.
"Hermione, can I borrow the map?" He asked, drifting over to her.
"Sure," She said distractedly, before floating it over to him.
That was a genuinely beautiful mountain lake. The pale water shimmered as it reflected the sky and mountains, and a sheath of fog gently drifted over the north side. It also did not appear at all on the map.
Harry let out a couple muttered oaths, before speaking up. "Hermione, where did you say Cad Gadu is?"
"Island on a lake, I think." She replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Over there, by that ridge-line. That's a lake, innit? I'm not seeing it anywhere on the map, and it's certainly big enough to be recorded, so either that's our target, or the map makers were a bunch of incompetents."
Hermione raised her hand up to her eyes to shield the sun, using them as a makeshift visor. She looked at the lake through squinted eyes, before excitedly nodding.
"Oi Ron, we're going down to check out the lake. It might be what we're looking for."
At her urging, they all descended slowly, coming down from the clouds and touching down on the edge of the lake. As they descended, they realized it was a fairly sizable body of water shaped like a jagged teardrop where the mountain rivers fed it from upstream. A pale mist seemed to cover the water, stubbornly persisting even in the face of the burning rays of the sun.
Curiously, there was a small weathered dock, seemingly made entirely of solid stone. Columns of basalt were entrenched deep within the ground, seeming to meld seamlessly into the earth and stone, like it had grown out of it. Really, the only giveaway was the color change, where the pale rock of the mountain shifted to the dark volcanic rock. The top of it was a speckled granite, which had been smoothed out, either by time, or magic, and was shaped to look like wooden planks.
"Well, there's your proof if you needed it," Ron said, feet tapping as he walked over the weathered granite. "That's not Muggle work. Only a wizard would bother to make a pier out of solid rock."
"It does put us at a bit of an impasse though. I'd be wary of flying over personally," Harry mused, looking off at the distant fog. "Hermione, you said that Cad Gadu was unfriendly to uninvited visitors right? Any word on how invited visitors came in?"
"Let me check. I made a copy of the book, but don't let Madam Pince know that." She said, digging around in her bag.
After a bit, she retrieved the book, and then set it on a table that Ron helpfully conjured.
"Hmm, lets see. Page 477, and here. While it is abandoned now, the custom was to be invited to Cad Gadu, lest risk being turned away. Walking the footpath allows visitors to descend further into the region."
"Right, but we've already been over that part," Ron complained. "We are trying to figure out how to cross the lake."
"I'm getting to that," Hermione said indignantly. "I just wanted to pick up where I left off, so you know I didn't skip anything. Now, the invitations to Cad Gadu were traditionally carried by the Redcaps of House Mercere, and were customarily granted for six months in advance, three months in advance, or one month, depending on the urgency of the request. Once guests arrived at the dock, they would be met with a mundane boatman, one of the coven-folk which call Cad Gadu home. The ferryman would control entrance to the covenant, as the boat is the only safe passage. There are terrors neath the water, and in the clouded mist which guard that way. It was customary to tip the ferryman no less than ten pennies, but no more than two shillings."
"A bit cheap you think?" Harry wondered out loud. "Sounds like they were underpaying the poor Muggle they roped into rowing the boat."
"Are you out of your mind?" Hermione said incredulously. "The value of money's gone way down due to inflation. Back in those days, a loaf of bread was like, half a penny. That pricing is downright extortionate."
"And it's all supposed to be ruins now, so I doubt anyone actually cares." Ron said, rolling his eyes at the two of them. "The question is, how are we getting across?"
Harry looked at Hermione and shrugged, clearly looking to her for a solution. She rolled her eyes.
"Accio boat" Hermione flicked her wand, and waited.
"Do you think maybe it's decayed by now? Or perhaps no longer here?" Harry wondered as no boat appeared. He was soon proven wrong though, as a surge of water a couple hundred meters out gave way to a very battered, very wet boat, which interestingly seemed to have escaped the ravages of time and decay underwater. In fact it looked positively pristine.
"The Hogwarts boats are enchanted against rot, and water damage," Hermione said, slightly smugly at disproving Harry. "They've been in use since the founding of Hogwarts, only needing minor repairs on occasion. I imagine this boat is much the same."
"You read that in Hogwarts: A History?" Ron asked as he started going over the boat with drying spells.
"No actually. Hagrid told me one time, when I asked about his other duties. He tends to be the one to fix up the boats when bits fall off, or the Giant Squid gets a little too playful."
The trio shuffled their way into the boat, being careful not to jostle it. Ron helpfully transfigured a couple branches into a pair of oars, and he and Harry rowed while Hermione kept an eye out up front.
"You know, I am starting to regret this," Harry said, looking down through the water with an air of trepidation.
"How's that?" Ron asked.
"Last time I went on a boat in a spooky hidden lake, it was filled with Inferi and Dumbledore and I nearly died painfully." Harry said, flashbacks to the pale decaying corpses running through his mind. The water here was clear, and there were no bodies in sight, but that didn't mean he trusted it.
"Well, that's rather par for the course innit Harry?" Ron pointed out cheerily. "Not the Inferi mind, but you've been nearly dying painfully every year since first year at Hogwarts."
"Somehow, I think I'd still be rather torn apart by Fluffy than by Inferi," Harry remarked dryly. "Hermione, did the book mention anything else about the 'terrors neath the water and in the clouded mist'?"
"No, but it's not like wizards are especially prone to publicly bragging about their security." Hermione said, looking back at them. "They may be daft a lot of the time, but it doesn't cross into outright stupidity all that often."
Harry grunted at that, and kept rowing, his knuckles white from gripping the oar in case he needed to hit a surprise Inferius with it. The banter died down, as the boat slid smoothly into the fog, which rapidly transitioned from a light mist into a veritable wall that obscured all light.
"Anything you can do about this 'Mione? The lack of visibility is putting me on edge." Ron complained looking wide-eyed at the pure white haze. His voice sounded strange, flat almost in the fog, which softly undulated at the boat's passing disturbed it.
"I would hesitate to," She said warily. "It's obviously not a natural fog. I think it is part of the defenses here, but I don't want to trigger those by accident. Keep rowing, and I think we should be fine. Remember, the ferryman was a Muggle. That means that any enchantments had to have been tied to the boat itself, since he wouldn't have a magical signature to tie entrance to.
Harry and Ron grumbled a bit under their breath at that, but kept rowing, oars dipping silently into the water with a rare splash. Harry's arms were starting to burn by now, and Ron's weren't much better. They weren't out of shape, but Quidditch training didn't really translate all that well to rowing.
Then all of a sudden, they burst into sunlight, leaving the fog bank. Looking back the fog which seemed so thick and intimidating, was just a light mist from this side, that did next to nothing to obscure the far banks of the lake.
In front of them was an island, covered in crumbling stone structures, and another stone dock. They were finally there. Cad Gadu.