Walking through Little Whinging, Merlin had no idea what had brought him to this part of Surrey, but here he was breathing in the still warm air of summer and taking in the sight of near identical houses lining the streets, it was the 27th of July, a Sunday and it had been a good day so far.
Merlin had started his day out by visiting Wallis Wood, a secluded and picturesque woodland reserve in the heart of the Surrey Hills, he had been looking for wild mushrooms to sell at the markets on Tuesday. Now he was aware that some mushrooms were poisonous and that is why he took great care in selecting his mushies, using his magic to scan the mushrooms he could easily identify what type they were and if they were edible.
Merlin had found what he had been searching for near a gentle stream threading its way through the reserve, on the stumps of the Beech trees grew tiered formations of Oyster mushrooms, their shell-shaped caps varying in hues from cream to grey-blue, they were edible and had a delicate taste. He had also found Giant Puffballs a colossal fungus that sported soft clean white skin and firm flesh, he had gathered the young ones as that was the age when they were best eaten.
Merlin had also found scores of porcinis, Chanterelles and Shaggy Inkcaps, the thought of the fragile mushroom with an elongated and narrow dome cap, gills that turned from white to pink and finally black, caused Merlin to pause on the sidewalk and hastily open the satchel slung from his shoulder. Pulling out a notepad and a pen, he scribbled a short sentence, 'Don't consume Shaggy Inkcaps with alcohol as it will induce vomiting.' He would have to place a warning sign up; he would hate to have people coming back with complaints that he had sold a poisonous mushroom to them.
With that taken care of, Merlin put his notepad and pen back into the satchel and resumed his walk. After collecting his assortment of mushrooms, Merlin had made his way out of the Wallis Wood and had travelled a very short distance up the road to the Scarlett Arms pub to have some lunch, where he had booked a table for one. The pub had been named after the first Baron of Abinger, Sir James Scarlett, whom Merlin had once met in 1854, but that was a tale for another time.
After finishing his lunch, Merlin made a brief stop at his home to deposit the mushrooms and had made his way back to Surrey and that was how he found himself here now, without even the foggiest idea why. What he did know was that he had an intense burning feeling in his gut, that he had to be here, that something was wrong.
However, Little Whinging was eerily silent save for the occasional car that drove by and the rustle of the leaves in the trees when the wind blew and there was something else… There was magic here… the more Merlin walked the more he could feel it's presence and wasn't that something?
Merlin hadn't encountered magic for a very long time, nothing except for his own. Tantalised, he continued towards the feeling, more curious than he had been in a hundred years, for magic had simply vanished without a word or a whisper and trying to find where it had gone, had been a futile effort, until now.
As he got closer, Merlin suddenly stopped walking and turned to glance around himself, a foreboding feeling overcame him and he felt his magic rise in defence. Spotting no danger on the ground, 'That's odd,' Merlin thought scanning the area again and turned his head to look up into the late afternoon sky.
The sun was setting, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the sky and clouds in an array of soft pinks, purples and vivid orange which reminded him of a time long lost. But there was something else up there that didn't belong, little black specks hidden in the glare of the sundown.
"Well, they certainly aren't birds," Merlin said aloud to no one, watching the black dots hovering in the sky, each speck seemed to quiver with what could only be described as magic, a magic designed to keep them hidden.
"They've camouflaged themselves, whatever they are," Merlin spoke again to himself, he could see that were there, but he knew if he had never looked up, he would have missed them entirely.
Then in the distance at the end of the street came a loud cracking sound and the sudden appearance of thirteen figures had Merlin ducking behind a magnolia bush in a stranger's front yard in order to not be seen as one of the figures cast a furtive eye around the empty street. Merlin's eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of a very big man, sporting a thick mane of hair and scruffy beard, with one hand wrapped tightly around the handle of a motorbike with an attached side cart that had also appeared.
Perplexed with what was going on, Merlin watched the giant of a man wheel the bike in through the back gate of number four Privet Drive. Turning his attention to another figure, who walked with a severe limp. The man that was currently scanning the street with what appeared to be a rapidly rotating eye and many scars marring his facial features, overall, he reminded Merlin of a battle-scarred grizzly bear.
"Let's get inside quick," the man with the strange eye spoke to his companions, "We are not alone, they are out there I'm telling you."
"But there's nobody here right now…" A young woman chirped up, her bright pink hair swaying in the breeze, she glanced around the street.
"Constant Vigilance!" The grizzly man boomed, "Never let your guard down!"
"Will you shut it Mad Eye!" A man with greying light brown hair and shabby clothing spoke up, "You'll grab unwanted attention from the muggles if they hear you!"
Merlin still frozen behind the Magnolia bush, watched in disbelief as the front door opened and the group went inside. Blinking, Merlin stood back up and came out from his hiding spot, his brain short-circuiting.
"What's going on?" Merlin asked aloud as he noticed two somethings black and skeletal, which sort of resembled horses descend from the sky and land in number four's backyard. Those black dots were also still in the sky, Merlin wondered if they were here for the same reason as the strange individuals were…
Fifteen minutes had easily passed by as Merlin thought about what he had just witnessed, they all had to have magic of some kind, appearing out of thin air like that and what were the black horse things? His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a magical wave washing over him and the sound of a motorcycle roaring to life.
Merlin's eyes caught onto the most absurd sight yet, the same motorcycle that had appeared was now lifting into the sky with the giant bushy haired man manning the handlebars and a raven-haired, bespectacled teen sitting uncomfortably in the side cart, his fingers clenched tightly together. Then six others ascended into the sky as well, the two skeletal horses had two riders each and what looked like four broomsticks also sporting two riders each and the crazy part about the whole thing, all the passengers that were positioned behind someone were all exactly alike, so there were seven raven-haired teenagers with a chaperone.
"What in Morgana's name…" Merlin trailed off as he watched the group get higher into the sky and just when he thought it couldn't possibly get any weirder the hazy black dots swarmed the group and bright flashes began to light up the darkening sky.
"It's an ambush!" A faint yell came from the sky, and Merlin began running down the street trying to keep them in his sight, a gathering summer storm or magically induced one spread rapidly over the sky and a thick sheet of rain fell from the roiling clouds.
"No!" A distant heartbroken cry carried down and Merlin looked up to see a bright flash of green strike something white, which began to fall rapidly.
The battle in the sky over Surrey soon vanished before Merlin's eyes and all that was left was the rain and the white thing that had now hit the earth. Coming upon it, Merlin realised that the thing was actually a snowy owl, lying in a crumple of feathers and was quite obviously dead. Kneeling slowly down, Merlin reached out a tentative hand to stroke the glossy white down, the poor bird was still warm, it's eyes glassy and lifeless.
Upon touching the owl, Merlin could feel the foul magic saturating the poor thing and realised that this bird had to have been the boy's familiar and that this was a tragic loss. Merlin raised his hand over the owl and whispered an old incantation to stop any decomposition from occurring and as he pulled a worn cloth from his satchel, he vowed to return this beautiful creature to its master.
Wrapping the snowy owl into a bundle, Merlin hugged it to his chest and stared uncomfortably into the sky. There were no words to describe how he felt right now, having been so close to magic when he hadn't been that close in such a long time was intoxicating. However, the foulness that still clung to the bundle in his arms was enough for him to realise that it had been dark magic and that despite what he desired to find, he wanted no part of that.
Turning on his heel, Merlin quickly strode away from the street and into an empty park where he stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he reopened his eyes, they were flashing gold and in the next second Merlin had vanished from the park and had materialised outside his home in Bruton, Somerset.
Bruton was a small market town and parish located on the River Brue, standing among a cluster of hills. There wasn't much to the town, they had a post office, a school, hospital and a couple of chapels, well that was probably over simplifying it but that was how Merlin described it. It was quaint, old and just the way he liked it.
Merlin's home was situated amongst a thicket and was pretty well hidden from prying eyes. The small cottage was made from stone, had a thatched roof and had green vines crawling their way up on the left-hand side. There was a purple wisteria draping itself over the low stone fence at the front and wooden archway that had a path leading to the front door, it was small and cosy, but it was home.
Sighing in relief, Merlin opened his satchel once more and rustled around for five seconds before pulling a set of keys from it and then proceeded to walk to the front door and let himself in. Once inside, he carefully set the bundle he carried in a corner on the floor in his living room near the fireplace and went into the kitchen to make himself some dinner.
Grabbing a knife from a draw, he set it down on the chopping board and went to get some ingredients from his fridge, he had enchanted the thing to work because it refused to turn on when he bought it home and it wasn't the only thing. For some reason any electronics he brought into the house would stop working and he hadn't a clue why, he figured it had something to do with him – it was like he repelled technology or something, even the television would get fuzzy on occasion for no good reason.
Shaking his head at the stupid things, he was grateful for them however and proceeded to place a carrot, a potato and a piece of pumpkin onto the chopping board. Merlin picked up the knife and began to chop the vegetables into decent sized chunks before placing them onto a baking tray and shoving them into the oven. Next, he grabbed a bag of frozen peas, corn and broccoli from the attached freezer and placed some of them into a pot on the stove to boil.
As Merlin prepared his dinner in the cosy kitchen of his cottage, the comforting routine of cooking helped to soothe his racing thoughts. The aroma of roasting vegetables filled the air, creating a sense of warmth and familiarity. Merlin found solace in the simple act of preparing a meal, a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of magical events he had witnessed. As he stirred the pot of boiling vegetables on the stove, Merlin's mind wandered back to the snowy owl and the young boy who had lost his familiar.
Returning the owl to its rightful owner was a task that weighed heavily on his mind. He pondered the challenges that lay ahead, uncertain of how he would even begin to find the boy or unravel the mysteries that surrounded the events in Little Whinging.
Yet, amidst the uncertainty, Merlin held onto a deep sense of trust in the workings of fate. He believed that everything that had transpired had happened for a reason, and that he had been brought into this extraordinary situation for a purpose. He understood that he couldn't force the course of events or rush the discovery of magic. Instead, he needed to allow things to unfold in their own time.
With this realization, Merlin focused on the present moment, on the sizzling of the vegetables in the oven and the bubbling of the pot on the stove. He knew that he needed patience and a keen sense of observation to navigate the path that lay before him. The answers he sought would reveal themselves when the time was right. As he dished up his simple yet nourishing meal, with each bite, he felt a renewed sense of determination and purpose, ready to embrace the journey that awaited him.
After finishing his meal, Merlin carefully stored the remaining food and cleaned up the kitchen, leaving everything neat and tidy. He glanced over at the bundle containing the preserved snowy owl, a constant reminder of the task at hand. Tomorrow would bring new possibilities and opportunities for him to step further into the realm of magic and uncover the truth behind the events in Little Whinging.
With a resolute heart, Merlin retired to his cosy living room, the crackling fire casting a warm glow over the space. He settled into a comfortable armchair, his mind quieting as he allowed himself to rest and gather strength for the adventures that awaited him in the days to come.