Avalon - Chapter 1 - Awaken

Awaken

He looked up at the castle he had spent the better part of five years within almost three decades prior. Although he’d cut his education short to venture out into the world on his own, Myrddin had made some of his best memories within the walls of Hogwarts.

He only wished he’d parted from his instructors on better terms.

None had been pleased about his decision, but Myrddin knew he was doing what was right.

Much like Rowena, he found he had quite the gift for reading the stars, and he knew that he was following the will of something much more powerful than him when they’d told him the story of the king to come.

Arthur.

When Uther, Arthur’s father had come to him, he knew it would be the man’s son who would lead great men to great victories and unite Britain under a single banner.

For too long, the country had been at war, broken into several smaller kingdoms, and without proper guidance.

War was an ugly thing, and Myrddin longed for the days of peace ahead, but before that could be, there was much to do.

Arthur’s journey had only begun, but his had been many years in the making, and it had started here at Hogwarts, a place he’d returned to several times over the years, yet the frosty reception he would inevitably receive had not changed.

Nonetheless, he was no longer a boy looking to impress those he looked up to.

No, Myrddin had become an excellent wizard in his own right, and likely outdone anything the Founders of Hogwarts had ever achieved.

“Salazar,” he greeted the first man to reach him at the gates.

“What do you want, Myrddin?” the man snapped.

“Am I no longer welcome to visit? Is Hogwarts no longer a haven for all our kind?”

Salazar’s nostrils flared irritably as he reluctantly opened the gate with a tap of his wand.

“Come in,” he invited, the smile he gave as false as ever.

“Thank you,” Myrddin offered. “Helga, Godric, it is good to see you.”

The man merely snorted and shook his head as he turned his back towards him.

“I do not suppose this is a social visit,” Helga sighed.

“Yes and no,” Myrddin replied. “I am always pleased to see all of you, even if the feeling is no longer mutual. Rowena, I hope you’re well.”

“As well as can be,” the woman replied tersely. “How can we help you?”

Myrddin offered her a smile.

“It is you I wish to speak with pertaining to something most troubling. I do not expect I will take up much of your time.”

“Then we can speak in my office,” Rowena offered. “Come, I have a busy day ahead of me.”

“Nothing too trifling, I hope?”

“School business,” Rowena answered dismissively as she led him towards the castle.

Both Godric and Helga followed, but Salazar did not.

The man had no time for Myrddin since he’d left the school.

Slytherin had seen his departure as a personal insult to the years of tutelage he’d given Myrddin.

‘Ungrateful swine!’

The words had stung, but Myrddin had not been deterred from his course of action.

He was merely following his destiny, even if those he’d valued so could not see it.

(Break)

Salazar watched as the small group made their way to towards the castle and shook his head disapprovingly. If he had his way, Myrddin would never darken the doors of the castle again, but the man was right.

Hogwarts was a sanctuary for all magical people, even if Salazar did not always agree with the sentiment.

It wasn’t that he’d always despised his former student. On the contrary, the two of them had been exceedingly close to the point he thought of Myrddin as a son, but Salazar could not fathom the choices he’d made.

Muggles and magicals should remain separate, but Myrddin had other ideas.

Salazar would not pretend he wasn’t disappointed Myrddin had opted to interfere in the affairs of muggles. As a young man, he’d proven he had all the potential in the world to even outdo each of the Founders.

He was gifted in just about every aspect of magic, had a keen mind, and his dedication was quite something, but he’d been caught up in his dreams of grandeur, and falling into the belief that the muggle and magical world should be as one.

Form what Salazar had seen on his travels, muggles feared anything they could not explain, and that fear turned into violence.

He’d seen women burned alive for the most foolish of reasons, wars fought over meaningless strips of land, and people butchered because of greed.

Of course, he did not believe that magicals were perfect, but muggle were particularly bloodthirsty and Myrddin made no secret that his efforts would bring more war to Britain.

Salazar could only shake his head in disappointment as he turned away and headed towards the forest.

Whatever Myrddin achieved would only come from bloodshed, and though Salazar was not naïve to think war would be avoided forever, he saw no benefit of what Myrddin intended to do.

The muggles had their Christian gods, and those gods frowned on everything witches and wizards were.

There was no reason their worlds should come together, and for the past several decades, Salazar, Godric, Helga, and Rowena had done their utmost to educate and keep their own kind safe from inevitable persecution.

Myrddin intended to undo that work in the belief of co-existing.

Perhaps he would be successful in the beginning, but Salazar only saw further bloodshed coming from it in the future.

His jaw tightened as he entered the forest, and he drew his wand to defend himself from any of the beasts within who might take a little more interest in him than he’d like.

“Girl are you in here?” he called.

He frowned as he continued on his way, listening closely for any disturbances around him.

“GIRL!”

Again, he received no response, and it took several moments of following the faint traces of present magic before he found humble home she’d built for herself.

Salazar found that it had moved every time he came here, and though she tried to remain hidden from him, she could not hide herself well enough to do so.

Others would likely never notice she was even here, but Salazar Slytherin’s mind and magic were as sharp as the sharpest of blades, and although she was evidently not home, she was not far away.

Conjuring a comfortable wingback chair for himself, he waited and pondered the past day.

Of course, the storm that had rolled in the night before was unlike any other he’d seen.

Is violent, magically charged, and Hogwarts itself seemed to have trembled beneath his feet.

Fortunately, the only damage had been done to some of the trees within the forest, but the storm seemed to have brought another change upon them.

The boy.

It was not often that Salazar was taken aback, but the appearance of the boy was most curious.

More so, however, was the sense of familiarity he felt as he’d rested his hand upon his forehead. Both in appearance and magic, the young man somehow resonated with Salazar.

It was indeed a strange feeling and he was keen to learn more about him when he woke.

Was he somehow a relative?

That very question was something Salazar could not ignore, though he couldn’t see how such a thing was possible.

He was an only child, and he’d certainly fathered no children outside of his marriage.

His wife had been a maid when they’d met, had given him a daughter and two sons before she’d died more than a year before he’d met his companions whom he’d built Hogwarts with.

No, the boy could not possibly be kin, but Salazar could not ignore the undeniable familiarity.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Salazar turned sharply towards where he heard the voice but saw nothing. When he turned back however, the young woman he’d come to see was standing before him with a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’re getting better,” he praised.

“I am becoming more at one with my magic,” the girl returned. “Why are you here?”

Salazar frowned at her but couldn’t hide his amusement.

Morgana was a girl of fifteen and had come to Hogwarts when she was eleven. It was a little over a year ago she had decided to leave the castle, though her circumstances were different to Myrddin’s.

She hadn’t left to interfere in the lives of muggles or guide a king she had no business bowing to.

Morgana felt that her magical journey was to truly begin amongst the trees in the forest where she felt closer to the power within her.

Salazar would not deny that she had some rathe unique abilities, and she certainly seemed to be thriving out in the wilderness.

Morgana was growing into a beautiful young woman, and although she was resistant to his paternal care for her, she had become something akin to being a difficult daughter to him.

“You’re staring,” she sighed as she laid down a deer she’d just hunted.

“I am merely admiring how well you are doing,” Salazar replied.

Morgana hummed and busied herself with her catch.

“So, is there something I can help you with?”

“I was just checking on you to make sure you’re okay after the storm.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Morgana muttered. “I learned to read a liar from you.”

Salazar chuckled.

“Fine, it didn’t cross my mind to check on you until I was here,” he admitted. “I was wondering if you noticed anything odd during the storm, particularly by the lake?”

Morgana frowned and placed her knife next to the deer.

“I wasn’t stupid enough to venture out into it. Why?”

“Nor reason.”

“You’re lying again.”

“Perhaps.”

She shook her head and continued butchering, humming a tune to herself.

“Myrddin is here.”

Morgana immediately stilled her knife and her eyes flashed dangerously, the dark grey shifting to a lighter silvery colour.

The two had met twice and Myrddin had all but accused Morgana of being an evil witch who’s magic was an abomination.

Of course, Morgana had not taken kindly to his words and it had taken all four of the Founders to prevent the tense situation from erupting into violence.

Morgana was rather hot-headed, and despite undeniably being outclassed, she would not have yielded to Myrddin.

The confrontation between the two had caused quite the stir among the Founders. The other three had made it rather clear that they did not condone Morgana’s practices, but it was because they did not understand the nature of her magic.

Salazar had spent months talking with the girl about it, and he’d done all he could to help her explore her talents. For the most part, he was as ignorant as the others, but he’d agreed to supervise Morgana in her pursuits and had done so for the next two years.

It was shortly after Myrddin’s last visit that Morgana had left the castle, and ever since, she’d decided she no longer wanted assistance, that she would study her magic in her own way.

It had taken Salazar the better part of nine months to find the girl in the forest, and he’d been pleased to see that she was taking care of herself.

He’d offered her the opportunity to return to the castle, but she’d firmly denied the proposal claiming that, for now at least, this was where she belonged.

What she did here, Salazar didn’t know, but she was growing stronger. He could feel the maturity of her magic increasing whenever he visited.

“What does he want?” she asked, doing her utmost to show that his presence so close to her wasn’t irksome.

“Who knows with him,” Salazar sighed. “He’s speaking with Rowena.”

Morgana nodded and tucked a thick lock of her raven hair behind her ear.

“Why did you ask about the lake?”

“For now, I cannot say, but there has been a rather interesting occurrence.”

“Will it affect me?”

“I do not believe so.”

Morgana merely nodded and Salazar stood before vanishing his chair.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No.”

“Well, you know where to find me if there is. I expect you could get a message to me without the others knowing.”

“I could.”

Salazar chuckled amusedly.

“Take care, girl,” he urged. “I do not wish to come here one day and find you dead.”

“You won’t.”

“Good.”

With that, he gave a final look around the place she’d set up her home before taking his leave.

He wanted to ensure that Myrddin was not causing more trouble in the castle with his latest visit, and Salazar idly wanted just what the man could possibly want.

(Break)

Rowena had taken the most direct route to her office, avoiding the classrooms where the students were. She did not want Myrddin making his snarky comments about poorly something was being taught, nor did she simply want his influence around the children.

It was bad enough that he was interfering in things he had no business being a part of.

Rowena would not see any of her other students following suit.

“Am I truly so unwelcome here now?” Myrddin asked amusedly as she closed the door behind them.

“It is not that you are unwelcome,” Rowena said evenly. “It is that you are attempting to undo everything we have worked towards these past decades. We built Hogwarts as a place of education and sanctuary for our kind so that we can thrive without fear of persecution. If you have your way, you will open up our world to them.”

“I would,” Myrddin said unashamedly. “We should be living harmoniously, Rowena, not in fear for our lives.”

“And that is exactly what we will be doing if you continue on this path. Muggles will never accept us, and certainly not in positions of power. You have seen it for yourself. They are so quick to go to war over the most trivial of things, and we are not such. To them, we are a true threat, and one day, perhaps not even in our lifetimes, they will turn on us, and the blood of those of our kind will be on your hands.”

A slight frown creased Myrddin’s brow before he smiled and shook his head.

“I believe you are worrying for nothing,” he declared. “Rowena, I am guided by the very stars you taught me to read. They have shown me my path and the better future that awaits us all. I would think that you of all people would understand.”

“I understand the stars better then you, Myrddin. They do not speak so plainly. There give signs and guidance, but little else.”

“Perhaps that is all they show you,” Myrddin returned.

Rowena narrowed her eyes at the man and he held his hands up placatingly.

“You have my apologies. I spoke out of turn. Forgive me, it has been a trying few weeks.”

“You found your king.”

“I did, and as we speak, he is settling into his home.”

Rowena released a laboured breath that she would no longer waste in trying to deter her former student.

Myrddin was as stubborn as any other she’d met and her words would only continue to fall on deaf ears.

“So, what brings you here?” she asked curiously.

This certainly was not a social call.

Myrddin released a deep breath as he shook his head.

“I am unsure, but certain all at once,” he murmured. “The storm brings me here. I have never seen or felt such power.”

“Nor I,” Rowena agreed.

Myrddin nodded and began pacing back and forth.

“Shortly before I left the school for good, I experienced another storm whilst visiting the southwest. Even through the clouds and lightning, I could read the stars as though they were a book, and they spoke of something most troubling.”

“Go on,” Rowena urged, folding her arms.

“They spoke of another storm and the great changes it would bring and showed me a faceless man. He was like a demon, Rowena. He defies Death,” Myrddin said ominously. “Last night, I tried to read the stars again, and for the first time, they made no sense. As with the first storm, they warned me about the storm-bringer, of an unknown man who would come and change my destiny, a man who’s fate would be intertwined with my own. I asked, and even pleaded for clarity, but they would yield nothing else.”

“A man?” Rowena asked.

Myrddin nodded.

“A man carrying the mark of the storm.”

Rowena did her utmost to keep her expression impassive, and she looked out of the window to prevent Myrddin perhaps catching something she did not wish for him to see in her gaze.

Marked by the storm.

The boy in the medical bay.

Could he be the one of whom the stars had spoken?

Rowena did not doubt Myrddin.

He would not be here seeking help with his vision if it hadn’t perplexed him so, but what could it all mean?

The boy was unknown to those who had seen him, and there were unexplainable oddities and phenomena about him.

“Do you have any thoughts?” Myrddin asked, pulling her from her own.

Rowena hummed thoughtfully.

“If it was so jumbled then I’m afraid I am at a loss,” she sighed. “I usually find that if the stars do not make sense when you read them, it is not the right time for you to know what it is they are showing you.”

Myrddin nodded.

“I do not like the unknown,” he muttered. “My path was once clear, and now it seems that it is not so. It is now full of twists and turns that I cannot see beyond.”

“As is the way of life, and how it should be. Why should we wish to know how it all will unfold when the mystery is what makes it so interesting? When the idea of building Hogwarts was just that, I didn’t know it would lead me to where I am now. The journey and the unknown is what makes all of this so special.”

Myrddin snorted as he shook his head.

“I prefer the known to the unknown, the certain over the uncertain.”

“Then, as with most things, we must agree to disagree,” Rowena replied with a shrug. “We will never see eye to eye on what you are pursuing, Myrddin. All I see before you is bloodshed, death, and tragedy.”

“I see a better world,” Myrddin returned. “A world where all people can live together peacefully with no more war, no more invasions, and no more suffering.”

“Then I fear you have become blind,” Rowena said sadly. “Come, I will show you out.”

Myrddin merely offered her a bow as he opened the door to the office for her.

“Perhaps one day you will change your mind. The world could use an exceptional woman like you. Do not close your mind, Rowena. You are better than that.”

She said nothing as she led him through the halls of the castle.

Myrddin was wrong, and it seemed there was something of a higher power out there that agreed with the sentiment.

Rowena’s mind once more wandered to the boy currently lying unconscious in the medical bay, and as soon as Myrddin was out of the grounds, she had every intention of taking a closer look at him.

If he was the one to stop Myrddin from doing what she felt in her heart of hearts was wrong, then he undoubtedly had a monumental task ahead of him.

(Break)

Godric watched the rise and fall of the boys’ chest and how he occasionally winced in his sleep. Whatever he was dreaming of was evidently troubling him and he gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

He relaxed somewhat, and Godric took a step back.

A part of the reason he’d agreed to join the others in building the school was because he could not stand the thought of children suffering at the hands of parents who didn’t understand them.

He’d seen for himself how the muggles would treat witches and wizards, especially the children who struggled to control their magic.

Swallowing deeply, he released a deep breath.

“What do you think, Helga?” he asked his companion.

“I think this boy has not been cared for.”

“Truly?”

Helga nodded.

“Even without whatever it is he endured during the storm; you need to only look at him closely. He has bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep and he is thinner than any boy should be. I expect he’s experienced more than his fair share of hunger. And then there’s the scars.”

“What about them?”

“This one is a bite,” she deduced as she ran her thumb over the puckered skin on his left arm. “I was something venomous. You can see where it burnt the flesh as it oozed out.”

“What could have done it?”

“I can’t say,” Helga murmured, “but I can think of no creature that could do that without it being a fatal wound.”

“But he survived.”

Helga smiled.

“He did.”

“What about the other arm?”

Helga frowned as she inspected the scar.

“A puncture wound, but again, I cannot say what caused it. It’s deep. Further than the flesh but there is no exit wound.”

“But to the bone?”

“To the bone,” Helga concurred.

“I thought I would find you here,” Rowena said quietly as she entered the room.

“Has he gone?” Godric asked darkly.

“I escorted him off the grounds myself,” Rowena assured him. “There has been a rather interesting development.”

“Interesting development?”

Rowena worried her lower lip as she moved the boy’s hair aside and stared at the odd scar on his brow.

“The storm-bringer,” he murmured.

“Storm-bringer?”

Rowena nodded.

“Myrddin said that the stars told him the storm would bring a great change, that it would directly affect his efforts. A faceless man would oppose him, the one who defies Death, and who has the mark of the storm,” she explained, pointing to the lightning bolt scar.”

Godric suddenly felt rather uneasy.

“Tell her, Helga,” he urged.

“Tell me what?”

Helga could only shake her head as she pointed to the scar on the boys’ left arm.

“This is undoubtedly a bite from a creature,” she explained to Rowena. “A powerful, venomous creature. Although I cannot discern what did this, it was undoubtedly big, and the boy should not have survived it. How he did, I do not know, but he is here and he is breathing.”

“And he carries the mark of the storm,” Rowena mused aloud.

“Only if you buy into Myrddin’s delusion!” Godric snapped irritably. “He is just a boy, Rowena!”

The woman looked unusually troubled.

“No,” she returned. “I do not think he is being foolish in this. I saw him, Godric, this is truly bothering him. He tried to hide his concern, but he couldn’t. He saw this in the stars, and I saw things myself. Now this boy comes along…”

She broke off and frowned as he pondered all that had happened.

“If he is to be the one to stop him…”

“I could just slit his throat,” Godric offered. “Next time he arrives at the castle, I’ll run him through with my sword!”

“Blood will not be spilled in these halls,” Rowena said firmly. “You remember our vow when we opened Hogwarts. We cannot harm any we teach and none within these walls unless they give us a just cause. Besides, if the stars have set this boy on such a path, we are powerless to prevent what will be coming to pass.”

Godric’s jaw tightened and he clenched his fists.

“What has happened?”

He turned towards Salazar who wore an expression of curiosity.

“Oh, you’ll love this,” Godric grumbled. “According to Myrddin…”

“Quiet, I think he is waking up,” Rowena broke in.

Indeed he was.

As Godric turned back towards the boy, he could see his eyes flickering, and when they eventually opened only a moment later, he found himself looking into swirling pools of emerald green that were filled with a mixture of fear and confusion.

(Break)

His eyes felt heavy, and even when Harry opened them, his vision was blurred. With a groan, he reached to his right but found that his wand was not on the table where he usually left it.

Frowning to himself, he rubbed his eyes in a bid to clear them and quickly became aware that he was being watched.

“Let me guess, something else went bloody wrong,” he huffed irritably, doing his utmost to remember what happened last before he lost consciousness.

It was becoming a more frequent occurrence than Harry liked.

He remembered swimming in the lake, the unpleasant taste and texture of the Gillyweed before entering and plunging into the depths in search of the merepeople village.

The woman.

Despite his best efforts to not be lured in by her magic, Harry had been powerless to prevent it and he followed her.

It had been the oddest experience, and evidently, he’d ultimately failed the second task of the tournament.

He snorted to himself as he continued rubbing his eyes.

“Could someone please pass my glasses?” he asked.

“Glasses?” a voice replied, though it didn’t seem the person was speaking to Harry. “What does he mean?”

“Seriously, I can’t see. I need my glasses,” Harry protested, not in the mood for jokes.

He just wanted to know what had happened after he’d passed out, and seeing a blur of red hair, he huffed and held a hand out.

“Glasses, Ron,” he sighed.

“I truly think he cannot see very well,” a man’s voice spoke in response.

“He cannot,” another replied. “He is speaking the truth. Helga, what do you think?”

Harry felt a hand come to rest gently on his forearm.

“May I see your eyes?” a kindly voice asked.

Harry frowned having not recognised who had spoken.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“All in good time, child. I would like to examine your eyes. I will not harm you.”

“I just need my glasses,” Harry explained, thought before he’d even finished speaking, he felt a sudden coldness wash over him and his eyes felt heavy in their sockets.

“He has poor vision,” the same woman informed the others concernedly.

“Can you fix it?”

“I am unsure but I will need a restorative potion.”

“I have some,” the second male voice spoke.

Harry heard the sound of clinking phials and the unmistakeable sound of a stopper being removed.

“I will need to use my cup,” the kindly woman mused aloud. “Please, keep your eyes open. It will sting a little but I promise it will help.”

“Are you a Healer?” Harry asked.

The woman laughed.

“One of the very best,” she assured him. “You are in safe hands, young man.”

Harry merely nodded and braced himself.

The woman was right.

Only a few seconds after the solution was poured into his eyes, it felt as though they were on fire, but only a moment later, the pain began to subside and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Slowly but surely, his vision began to clear, and eventually, he could make out the four figures standing in front of him, though none of them were familiar.

“Who are you?” he asked cautiously, his gaze sweeping around the somewhat familiar room.

They merely looked at him for a moment, and Harry felt as though he should know who they were, but he couldn’t place any of them.

“Young man, my name is Godric Gryffindor and you are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are familiar with the school, are you not? Our crest is on your garments.”

Harry blinked as he stared at the man and wondered if he had indeed taken leave of his senses or if that this was Fred and George’s idea of a joke.

When everything remained silent for longer than he was comfortable with, he snorted amusedly.

“I suppose you are Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin,” Harry scoffed.

“Ah, so you have heard of us!”

Harry’s gaze darted towards the second man and a feeling of dread settled into his stomach.

As far as he knew, no portraits of the man existed, and Harry was the only one who had seen the statue of the Founder in the Chamber of Secrets when he’d rescued Ginny.

He could not deny the resemblance of the man before him and that very statue.

But how?

How was it that it appeared in his addled mind that Salazar Slytherin was truly standing in front of him?

No, it had to be a trick of sorts.

This couldn’t be happening outside of his own mind.

“Say something in Parseltongue!” he commanded, trying and failing not to outwardly panic.

All four continued to stare at him with concern for a moment, and then Slytherin spoke.

“You have quite the keen knowledge of magic for a boy who has never been here.”

Harry could only swallow deeply as too many thoughts to process all at once began crossing his mind, and he again pondered all that had happened to lead him here.

“It was real,” he whispered in realisation.  “She was real.”

What he’d dismissed as being a dream or a part of the second task had indeed taken place. Some way, and somehow, he’d been brought here by the odd lady he’d met in the lake.

He became so lost in his own thoughts that he almost forgot about the foursome in front of him, and as Harry looked up at them to ensure his eyes were not playing tricks on him, he shook his head.

“How is this real?” he asked. “I must’ve…”

He broke off and the taller, slender women of the two carefully took a seat on the edge of his bed and took him by the hand.

“Perhaps we should take this slowly,” she urged worriedly. “Why don’t you begin by telling us your name?”

Harry nodded, still unable to make any sense of what seemed to be happening to him.

“Potter,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Harry Potter.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” the woman claiming to be Rowena Ravenclaw soothed. “You are safe with us. We won’t let any harm come to you.”

Harry didn’t know what to say.

Scenario after scenario ran through his mind and he quickly became overwhelmed with what was happening to him.

“This isn’t another dream, is it?”

“Not a dream,” the broad redhead answered.

Harry said nothing else for a few moments, and it was Rowena who interrupted his reverie.

“You mentioned a she, Harry. Who were you referring to?”

Harry snorted humourlessly as he shook his head.

“Honestly, I don’t think there is any possible way you will believe anything I can tell you.”

“Try us,” the darker haired man urged.

Harry met his gaze and immediately looked away.

Although he didn’t resemble Tom Riddle so much, he found it difficult to look at Salazar Slytherin.

Harry nodded.

“I was competing in the Triwizard Tournament,” he informed them.

“The Triwizard Tournament?” Rowena asked.

They were evidently clueless as to what the competition was.

“I don’t suppose that matters right now,” Harry said dismissively. “Well, I was in the lake and whilst I was on my way to the merepeople village, I was distracted by a woman. She had a hold over me that I couldn’t fight.”

“A siren?” Godric murmured.

“No, she wasn’t a siren,” Harry denied. “She was a human, at least I think she was. Anyway, I ended up passing out and when I woke up, I was in a cave with her.”

“Go on,” Rowena urged.

She seemed to be as curious as she was worried.

“She told me that I was a child of prophecy and that I was needed here. She told me…”

He stopped talking as he experienced a brief lapse in memory.

His time in the cave was rather foggy, but it was slowly coming back to him.

“Did she tell you her name?” Rowena asked.

Harry frowned as he nodded.

“She said she is known by several names. One of them was Nimue and another Elaine, but she told me that she is better known as…”

“The Lady of the Lake,” Rowena whispered, her eyes widening.

“That’s it,” Harry agreed.

The other three seemed to be rather confused, but Rowena squeezed Harry’s hand once more before she turned to Salazar.

“I can’t say I know what he is talking about, but he is telling the truth,” the man declared. “I sense no deception from him.”

“Wait, you can tell if someone is lying to you?” Harry asked as two memories in particular came to the forefront of his mind.

“I can,” Slytherin answered with a slight smirk playing at his lips. “It is a difficult skill to master. Have you met another who can do it?”

“I have,” Harry answered carefully.

“Then they must be exceptionally skilled in the Mind Arts.”

“The Mind Arts?”

Slytherin seemed surprised that Harry had not heard of such a thing and he waved him off dismissively.

“We can discuss them later,” he promised, offering Harry a smile.

“What else did she say to you?” Rowena pressed.

“You have heard of this woman?” Helga asked curiously.

Rowena nodded.

“She is little more than a myth mentioned in a few tomes I have come across,” she explained. “There are a few documented encounters with such a woman, all from different people, but they all describe her so eerily similar that these tales cannot be so easily dismissed.”

“She’s pale,” Harry replied. “Her hair is silvery blonde and her eyes impossibly blue, like looking into the clearest ocean.”

“Just as the others have described her,” Rowena whispered before shaking her head. “Perhaps it would be best if you tell us about yourself, Harry Potter. We can revisit the Lady of the Lake a little later, when you are up to it.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Harry murmured, finding the situation he found himself in no less strange with each passing moment.

“From the beginning,” Slytherin urged. “I have a feeling you have quite the tale to tell us. You have found yourself here, after all.”

Harry nodded and braced himself before beginning to unburden his mind.

Why he found it so easy to tell them all he could, he didn’t know.

Perhaps it was that these were strangers who’d had no influence on what had happened to him, or it was that knowing who they were made him realise he was experiencing a unique opportunity.

The Founders were thought to be among the greatest witches and wizards of their age and had ultimately created the place he thought of as his home.

Still, he paused before reaching the part of his life where it all changed, somewhat for the better.

“You remember the murder of your parents,” Helga sighed. “Don’t you?”

Harry nodded as he released a deep breath.

“Hagrid told me before I came to Hogwarts.”

“Before you came to Hogwarts? I’m sorry, but we have all been here from the very beginning and you are not familiar to us,” Godric broke in.

“Because he is not from here,” Rowena mused aloud. “The other stories of the Lady of the Lake speak of great upheaval, of considerable changes for those she revealed herself to. One man spoke of being sent to a time not his own, but no one believed him. Are you telling us that this is what has happened to you, Harry?”

Harry took a breath.

“I don’t know exactly when you were alive, but it is close to a thousand years ago. I was born in the year 1980.”

Godric scoffed in disbelief and Rowena continued to stare at him closely.

“A thousand years,” she whispered before looking towards Slytherin, who was positively alarmed by the revelation.

“He’s telling the truth,” the man declared. “Well, he believes he is, at the very least.”

Rowena nodded before looking at Harry once more.

“This is incredible. I suppose there is much for us to discuss, but why? Why were you sent so far away from home, Harry?”

Harry frowned as he pondered the rest of the conversation he’d shared with the strange lady who’d accosted him.

“She told me…”

He broke off and shook his head.

“Wha did she tell you?”

Harry swallowed a lump that formed in his throat.

“She told me I was to stop him.”

“Stop who?” Slytherin questioned.

“Myrddin Emrys.”