It crossed my mind whilst going through Fairy Tail fanfics. There aren't enough with Jellal and/or Mystogan! *^* On another note, due to the long chapters (not that it'll likely be a problem) and the other stories I'm working on (as in Harry Potter & The Visitors From the Dead, and FP stories) there will be somewhat long waits. Which I apologize for, but I always put way too much shit on my plate. :P Anyways, hope you like!
EDIT: Rereading this I realized I needed to make a couple changes to this chapter as well for the year change I made.
Six months had passed since his memories had returned. Eighteen since the members of Fairy Tail vanished. Since Erza vanished. Regrets, what-ifs, and pointless wishes crossed his mind daily. If he hadn't succumbed, things would be different. Perhaps he could have—
"Hurry up!" A female voice called out from further ahead. He sighed, blue hair rustled by the breeze that picked up. The young man berated himself for his wandering thoughts. There was no point in dwelling on the past now. Things had already been settled, and he had a new objective to accomplish. He looked over towards the girl that waved enthusiastically at him, her long rosette-colored hair bouncing along with the action. Beside her, another woman with long dark hair sighed at her companion's antics.
He smiled softly at the thought of his fellow guild mates. He continued towards them from where he'd stopped, his stride leaving a path in the field. Stumbling over something that had been hidden in the tall grass, he cursed quietly, turning around to get a look at the offending object.
It looked like a book, musty with old age. He picked it up, examining the leather cover and crumbling pages. It was yellowed and stained, the text within some foreign language he hadn't seen before. Whatever words had been on the cover have long since faded, the binding itself barely keeping the volume together. For something this ancient to be abandoned on the ground like this was strange, but he wouldn't be able to find any information from the book alone. Perhaps a translator could be found.
An unfamiliar feeling distracted him from his thoughts, pulling at his body. Frowning, he canceled whatever miniscule magic was at the source, though it wasn't familiar to him at all. It felt ancient—nothing akin to the magic today—but it didn't seem dark or threatening either. He assumed the source to have come from the book, as there wasn't anything for miles aside from him, his guild mates, and the grass. The book itself, however, hadn't changed in anyway either.
"Jellal! Is something wrong?" The voice of his other companion called out, the dark-haired woman striding towards him. Her walnut-colored eyes spotted the book in his hands almost immediately. "What's that?"
He looked up to respond, when a discomforting tug at his naval distracted him once more. There was no time for the wizard to react this time as the world blurred. He clutched the book in his hand subconsciously as his surroundings spun rapidly and changed into a myriad of colors. Ultear and Meredy disappeared, and slowly dark grays and mottled browns began to mix with the bright greens and blues of the spinning field.
A familiar voice called his name from somewhere far away before everything went dark.
The elderly man sat within his office, staring at the miscellaneous objects scattered around the room. Books were not the only objects to line the many shelves, with various trophies and skeleton parts and jars of who-knows-what squished together in a disorienting clutter. Various sized portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses covered what remained of the walls, each face looking around, sleeping, talking or some other action to occupy their time. Along the floor stood more artifacts and gadgets of varying types, the most notable being the attentive form of Fawkes beside him.
The red phoenix, having noticed his glance, replied with a fond look of its own before resuming the preening of its feathers.
"Concentrated Chaos," Minerva had once remarked about the room.
"There's a method to the madness," He had replied in turn, using the words of his predecessors. But there was a calm that washed over him whilst observing the area, trying to spot every hidden item within the room from where he sat at his desk. It was almost trance-like, allowing the man to get lost in his thoughts freely.
Those previously mentioned thoughts were what now troubled his mind. The newest threat over not only the boy's life, but over the students associated with him as well. The crack from within the Wizarding World had been taken advantage of, and now a boy was dead and the Dark Lord walked free again.
The wrinkles adorning his pale face became more pronounced as he frowned, eyes unseeing as his inner world's turmoil increased.
Tom Riddle. The brilliant young man that had once been his student was no longer; all that was left was this inhuman creature. Yet, the Ministry would not acknowledge the real threat. Something more brewed behind the scenes, but as of yet, what exactly the true threat was remained unknown. Until then, however, he would have to wait and see.
A large pressure assaulted his senses, breaking the elderly man from his reverie. He stood abruptly; hand on the wand hidden within his robes. The feeling dissipated slowly, though it was not entirely gone. The feeling lingered, and he knew that an ancient magic was at work.
Albus Dumbledore headed swiftly for the location, which was not at all far from the school. His stride was long, quickened by the unsettling feeling in his stomach. It would not do for there to be an unknown threat to the school only two months away from September.
"Albus! Did you feel that?" A shrewd woman, though her face was currently creased in worry and apprehension, joined the man in his hurry. He nodded in return, his mouth set in a firm line.
"It came from the Forest." He replied curtly, not pausing or looking over at the middle-aged woman beside him. They nearly ran down the staircases, which moved to help them arrive at their destination quicker. Once out the doors, they did not pause, instead increasing their pace as their neared the source of the magic.
The feeling of the ancient magic became smaller and smaller as time passed, and with each length the wizards drew closer, their breaths audible. The source was not too far within the tree line, resting just inside.
The two were taken aback, however, to see where exactly the source had come from.
Sprawled along the ground, a book in his hands, was a young man who couldn't have been older than 21. His hair was somewhat shaggy, and a shade of blue that couldn't have been natural. His body, which lay face down amidst the clumps of grass, was hidden by a dark blue cloak with white trimming. A high-collared, dark green coat was visible underneath, as well as long black boots. Despite this, his lithe, muscular figure was still somewhat noticeable.
"Who is he?" The Deputy Headmistress muttered, her eyes staring at the unconscious man before them. The elder stroked his long gray beard thoughtfully for a moment before he proceeded to bend down next to the body.
"Why don't we find out?" Dumbledore replied, slowly rolling the stranger over so as not to worsen any unseen injuries. An intricate red tattoo adorned the right side of his face, both above and under his eye. As the elderly man moved his body, however, he noticed the old book that remained clutched within the stranger's hand. "It seems he was brought here by this." He gestured towards the tome.
"A portkey? Still, I don't recognize him." She replied, eyeing the book with as much curiosity as her companion. "I suppose, if he isn't a threat, we should bring him to Poppy." She suggested after a moment. She most definitely did not trust the man, but he didn't look like a Death Eater, and he most certainly wasn't Sirius Black. There must be some reason for him to have come to Hogwarts of all places, so until he woke up, they'd have to wait for that answer.
She helped Albus carry the stranger back up to the castle, struggling with his surprisingly light body. An abnormally large, burly man lumbered over to them. Anxiety was written across his face, even though that was largely hidden by the tangled, scraggly brown hair that made up the lower half of his face.
"Headmaster Dumbledore!" He cried, slowing to a stop before them. Several animal carcasses hung from the pockets of his large fur coat. Minerva wrinkled her nose in distaste at the sight, but otherwise didn't mention it. "Who's that?" He gestured towards the body between them, which had been dropped rather ungracefully on the ground.
"Ah, Hagrid," Dumbledore greeted the half-giant fondly. The large man's features visibly softened for a moment in response. "We found this young man collapsed within the Forest." He answered the question in way of explanation, but Hagrid simply nodded, not inquiring further.
"I'll give ya a hand." He said, easily picking up the blue-haired stranger in his arms. "Should I take 'im to the infirmary?" He asked, looking at the young man's face uncertainly for a moment before he returned his gaze to Dumbledore. The man nodded, following the half-giant's large strides as the three of them proceeded towards the castle.
He groaned, stirring slowly into consciousness. However, as his senses came alive, his fascination and utter confusion leaned towards the rather… soft grass beneath him. His hands moved along it, feeling no uneven dirt or rocks. A soft object rested lightly on his body, the feeling of it similar to that beneath him. He turned his head against the incessant light that had begun to filter through his eyelids. He was pleasantly surprised that whatever his head lay on was much softer than he had anticipated, and his head sank into it.
His ears picked up a soft murmuring not far from where he lay, and he struggled to enhance his hearing in hope of understanding. However, no matter how he strained, it continued to sound like gibberish. Giving up, he struggled to sit, his body and eyelids still heavy with sleep. As he pushed upwards, he winced at the pangs in his sides and arms. Whatever bruises he had sustained from collapsing were certainly making themselves evident.
When he first opened his eyes, he had to screw them shut again at the light that nearly blinded him. He tried again, slower this time. The voices he'd heard before had stopped; probably as a result of his waking. He lay upon a bed, one of the many that lined the walls of the room. Aside from the bed he sat in, they were all empty, the clean cream-white sheets and pillows lay neatly on each mattress. The room itself was much larger than he had expected there to be in the area they were traveling, where there wasn't any buildings for miles. Perhaps it had been hidden using magic, he mused.
The light that had been a bother previously streamed in through large glass windows that made up a majority of the walls, unlit lanterns beside each. The majority of the room was stone, with wooden beams for support high above in the tall ceiling. He looked around the place in wonder, absent-mindedly noticing that his cloak and coat lay folded on a wooden chair that sat next to the bed he currently occupied, and that the plated armor covering his abdomen had disappeared.
"I see you're awake." The strange murmurings drew his attention towards the three others in the room aside from him. What immediately grabbed his attention was that Ultear and Meredy were not among them.
The one who had spoken was an elderly man whose long white hair and beard reached down towards his chest. His tall figure was hidden by the long, deep blue robes he currently wore. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, which were adorned by several rings on his fingers. Those long fingers moved from their position for a moment to adjust the ridiculous pointed hat upon the man's head before settling back in place. A pleasant smile graced the man's face, which creased with many wrinkles at the action. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken too many times, but did not give him the intimidating figure that so many others had. His blue eyes, though somewhat hidden by the half-moon spectacles the man wore, twinkled.
Jellal wondered if that was natural. The man opened his mouth, and another stream of words came out of his mouth. When the elder looked expectantly at him, he realized it had been a question. And then he realized that he hadn't understood a word of it.
"What?" He asked, still completely bewildered at the current situation. He was sitting in a strange place, with strange people, and had absolutely no idea what was going on. Oh, and he couldn't communicate with them either.
The older man frowned for a moment, turning back to speak with the others in their language. Then he proceeded to return his attention to Jellal and, pointing to his face, said "Albus." Jellal creased his brows in thought at the action. Assuming it to be the man's name, he pointed at his own face, mirroring the man's action, and said "Jellal." Another smile graced the man's face.
'Albus' pointed behind him, where two middle-aged women stood, and said their names as he gestured to each. "Poppy, Minerva." Jellal nodded again.
Poppy was the elder looking of the two, with stringy gray hair tied back in a bun around her pale, slightly wrinkled face. Her eyes were a light blue, looking at him with the familiar, but sharp gaze of a nurse towards the injured. Her appearance supported that hypothesis, as she dressed in an old-fashioned scarlet gown that was adorned by a white apron. An entirely unfamiliar sort of hat rested upon her head, but Jellal glanced over it quickly in case he stared too long.
Minerva held a firm, though disapproving expression, the stern gaze accented by her green eyes. She held a straight, formal posture, which was evident even through the billowing emerald-colored robes, and her dark, but graying hair was pulled back neatly into a high bun. Her hands were folded over much like Albus', but far stiffer. Jellal knew she was not one to be messed with.
His attention was pulled back to the old man, who had withdrawn a long, though somewhat fancy stick. The blue-haired man raised an eyebrow curiously at the other, who merely winked and pointed it at him. What alarmed him next was the stream of magic that shot from the tip and smacked him in the forehead. He rubbed the spot in irritation, glaring at the infuriatingly bright eyes of the other.
"What did you do that for?" He growled, only to stop as the words came out of his mouth. "What…?" He began, confusion taking over once more.
"I presume you can understand me now?" Albus asked, though he continued on without waiting for an explanation. "That was a translation spell. It's much easier to communicate when we can speak the same language after all." The twinkle in his eyes seemed brighter, a mischievous light having joined it.
"Spell? So… that was magic?" He asked in return, eyebrows now thoroughly furrowed at the lack of understanding, despite the fact that they now spoke the same language. So this man conducted magic through the use of a stick? While it wasn't unusual for him to conduct his magic through an object, there hadn't been any incantation or magic circle to initiate it. And frankly, the stick reminded him of those old stories of witches that flew on brooms and wore pointy hats. Though, from the look of the hat that Minerva wore, perhaps that wasn't too far off.
This time, however, it was the elder's turn to raise an eyebrow at the remark. "Yes, it was. Do you not use magic?"
Jellal shook his head in frustration. "I do, but not like that." He answered. At the other's gesture, he looked around the room for an object to demonstrate with. Though most of the spells he knew were somewhat dangerous, there were still a few simple ones he remembered that would get the point across.
His gaze settled on an adjacent chair that sat against the wall nearby, nothing atop it. Jellal could feel the lack of magic within him, having used much of it destroying the minor, though somewhat strong Dark Guild he'd come across.
The adults that stood nearby watched in awe as the chair lifted itself, floating towards them and landing next to Albus with a soft clack.
"He did that without a wand…?" Minerva muttered as her expression morphed into one of astonishment. The bearded man peered at him from over the top of the spectacles, an intrigued smile becoming it visible.
"You know wandless magic?" He inquired, the smile remaining on his face.
"Where I come from, most mages use wandless magic." The young man replied, hesitating before he pronounced "wandless".
"Where are you from, if I may ask?" Minerva interrupted, the curiosity in her voice poorly hidden. Jellal remained tight-lipped, pressing his lips together into a tight line. Judging from the information he'd received so far, Fiore wasn't anywhere near… wherever he was. Though both sides used magic, one consisted of witches and wizards, whilst the other contained mages. Whatever forms of magic they used were different as well. When it became evident that he wasn't going to answer, she sighed and retreated from the conversation for that moment. The blue-haired male took this as an opportunity for him to begin asking questions and gaining the information he needed most at the moment.
"Where am I?" Albus pursed his lips in thought for a moment, as if debating how to answer.
"You're currently in the infirmary of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He eventually conceded. Jellal raised an eyebrow at the name. But rather than odd names, seeing as that would likely become common here, it was the latter part of the title that caught his interest. Witchcraft and Wizardry? What's more is it was a school. He'd never once heard of a school that taught magic, even during his time as a council member. He'd heard of dragons that taught young children, mages that took on apprentices, and self-taught mages. But never schools.
"Where is that located?" He inquired further, hoping to hear the name of a neighboring country, at the very least. Edolas was out, since they no longer had magic, from what he'd heard.
"The United Kingdom." Poppy replied firmly, though the look on her face became bewildered at the question. He felt his face drain of color, his hands going cold and clammy. Wiping the sweat from his palms, he took a moment to control his quivering breaths before speaking.
"Is that located in Earthland? Or near Fiore?"
The expressions on their faces became more confused, concern beginning to creep in as well in response to his question. Minerva shook her head. "It's located in Europe, and this is Earth." Jellal cursed, bringing a shaky hand over his face in frustration, while the other clenched atop the sheets. He had theorized that if Edolas existed, then other dimensions were likely out there as well. But he had never anticipated travelling to one of those dimensions. This did not bode well for him.
Albus, as if sensing his turmoil, withdrew an ancient, though familiar book from within his robes. "Do you recognize this?" He asked, holding it up for Jellal to see. He nodded in response. "This object is known as a portkey, which is one of several forms of transportation here." Jellal frowned in thought at the new information, but gestured at the older man to continue. "You were brought here by this, though a dimensional portkey is considered illegal, and they're considered extremely rare nowadays. How you found it is quite curious, I must say." He murmured the last part to himself, looking down at the book thoughtfully.
"Can it take me back?" The younger asked almost immediately. Albus sighed, and shook his head.
"I may be able to construct one to do so, but it will take a significant amount of time. There's only two months until the start of the term, and my time then will be severely limited in helping you." He warned, although his tone became much lighter with his next words. "Of course, you're welcome to stay here at Hogwarts in the meantime, seeing as I may require your assistance in creating it."
Jellal opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it. Though he didn't deserve such kindness from a man he'd just met—Albus was willing to commit a crime for his sake—he knew nothing about this world. If he did later decide to leave the grounds, it'd be prudent of him to learn everything he could about this world first. Since it was a school, perhaps they had a library. "Thank you, Albus." He finally conceded, sending the man a grateful look.
"But of course! Though, I hope you won't mind my asking a request of you in return." He replied, beaming another smile towards the other. Jellal had a feeling that this request would not be as easy as it sounded.