Avalon - Chapter 15 - The Daughter’s Return

The Daughter’s Return

“He has been spotted heading north through Daneland,” Elrond revealed. “The Wizard’s Council are trying to track him but have had little luck.”

Godric scowled irritably as he nodded his understanding.

The Wizard’s Council had made a significant error by informing the public that Strenger had returned to the country, and by doing so had lost the one advantage they’d had in apprehending him.

Strenger would be careful now, and the Wizard’s Council would be unlikely to find him.

Why they had done so was beyond Godric.

He would have kept the matter quieter to avoid the ensuing panic and retain the upper hand of Strenger being unaware that they knew of his presence.

He perhaps would be less cautious in what he was doing, but now, they would bear more fruit by pursuing spectres.

Strenger was an accomplished wizard in his own right, ruthless, and would fight until his last breath.

Salazar had trained him well during his years within the castle but had ultimately been the one to send Strenger away when his exploits in the school came to light.

Not only had he been deeply unpleasant to his peers, but Salazar also discovered that Strenger had been stealing from his personal supplies in the dungeon and had even been burglarising the village regularly.

It had all come to a head when a young woman had been killed during such an incident in the tavern, and though Strenger denied his involvement, Salazar did not believe him.

As such, Strenger had been expelled from Hogwarts, and his reputation had only grown from there, so much so that he’d been hunted by the Wizard’s Council, and even lynch mobs throughout the country until he’d cut his losses and left.

For him to return was as foolish as it was concerning.

“Why would he come back?” Godric asked frustratedly.

“He must have a good reason to do so,” Elrond responded darkly before taking his leave of Godric’s office.

Godric hummed to himself as he drummed his fingers atop his desk.

Strenger wouldn’t return unless there was something he wanted desperately enough to take such a risk, or he wasn’t given any other choice.

Godric was more inclined to believe it was the latter.

The man was as cunning and resourceful as any other. He would not allow himself to be forced into a situation he did not wish to find himself in.

No, Strenger was here for something he desired, though the realisation brought little relief to Godric.

Whatever Strenger wanted was undoubtedly something he would have no reservations in killing for, and it was almost inevitable that the situation would only end in considerable violence.

(Break)

Arthur released a deep breath as the woman pushed herself against him, and she sighed contentedly as she made herself more comfortable. Gwendoline was a beauty, but Arthur did wonder if the only reason he found himself here was because he knew he shouldn’t be.

It was an odd yet exhilarating feeling.

He’d spent his life being told what to do by Ser Ector and Kay, never rebelling against either of them, but now, he seemed to reach a stage in his life that he wanted to go against the grain, that he wanted to do something for himself.

Myrddin would be furious if he was to discover that they’d been sneaking around the keep, occupying the many bedrooms at ungodly hours just to snatch a few moments together.

Perhaps it was a stupid thing to do, after all.

The alliance with Garth was still fresh, and the former king would not likely take what the two of them were doing well.

None would, but as Arthur held her in his arms, he didn’t care.

When he was with Gwendoline, he could just be himself and forget the responsibilities that he shouldered each day.

Maybe it was merely a brief escape from everything, but Arthur didn’t mind it.

Even Lancelot indulged himself in women regularly, so, why shouldn’t Arthur?

“How much trouble would we be in if we were caught here?”

Arthur snorted at the question.

He suspected that Gwendoline had taken to meeting with him to satiate her own need for rebelliousness, and yet again, he didn’t mind.

He was not to question her reasons for being here, just as she wouldn’t him.

She would never be his queen, and both knew that.

They had simply thrown caution to the wind to enjoy the flesh of one another.

“I don’t know, but we might just find out,” Arthur huffed as he heard footsteps approaching the door.

Gwendoline froze and Arthur pulled the blanket over her.

It was a foolish gesture, but it was the best he could do.

“If you’re in there, best get moving. Myrddin is looking for you,” Lancelot whispered through the crack of the door.

“At this hour?” Arthur asked as he stood and began hurriedly dressing.

The door opened and the other man entered, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.

“Well, shit,” he cursed.

“Shut up,” Arthur grumbled.

Lancelot shook his bed.

“Best get out of here, Princess,” he urged. “Turn left out of the door and go to the end of the hall. There’s a passage that will lead you to the east side of the castle.”

Gwendoline merely nodded and gathered her things before fleeing the room.

When she was gone, Lancelot shot Arthur a look of irritation.

“Bloody fool,” he whispered harshly. “You can dip your wick in anything you want and you choose the damned Princess? Christ, Arthur, I thought you were smarter than that. Pick a stable girl or one of the servants. Not a woman that can give you a bastard to contend for your throne.”

“Contend for my throne?”

Lancelot cursed under his breath.

“If she gets with child, it could spell trouble for your legitimate children in the future. With a serving girl, you can pay for her silence, or even have her killed if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut, but a Princess? Not a bloody chance.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“No, you were too busy thinking with something else,” Lancelot chastised. “Come on, we’d best get you out of here before Myrddin finds you. Follow me.”

Arthur did so and felt rather unkinglike at being chided by his friend as though he was a disobedient son, even if Lancelot was right in what he’d pointed out.

“You should be well enough now. Shall we find Myrddin?”

Arthur nodded, and once more, Lancelot led him through the corridors of Camelot, pausing as they reached the door to the throne room.

“How do you know the castle so well?” Arthur asked.

“Because if an army ever breaches it, it’s best to know how you can escape. You might want to take some time familiarising yourself with the place instead of with the Princess.”

“Shut up,” Arthur grumbled, eliciting a laugh from his companion.

“Ah, my king,” Myrddin greeted them with a frown as they entered the room, shooting Arthur a look of suspicion. “I apologise for disturbing you so late in the evening, but I must take my leave for a few days or so. Unpleasant news has reached me, and it is something I must look into. Will you have need of me?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Is it anything I can assist you with?”

“I’m afraid not,” Myrddin answered, leaning in and clasping his shoulder. “I will get a message to you if I am delayed. Oh, and Arthur, I’m sure you can find a more suitable person to explore your carnal urges with. You are not foolish, so, do not make one of yourself.”

With that, Myrddin left and Arthur turned towards Lancelot.

“How did he know?” he whispered.

Lancelot shrugged.

“Myrddin knows everything.”

“He does,” Arthur sighed. “It is as useful as it is annoying.”

Lancelot snorted amusedly.

“Want me to introduce you to some of the stable girls? They’ll take your mind off everything.”

“No,” Arthur denied. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“Your own, I hope.”

Arthur nodded.

“Yes, my own.”

He would.

It had been fun sneaking around with Gwendoline for the past days since they’d arrived back in Camelot, but now that they’d been discovered, their dalliances had lost their appeal.

“Never mind,” Arthur sighed.

He knew that Myrddin and Lancelot were right.

It was a foolish thing to entertain, and yet, he’d done it anyway.

(Break)

“The place doesn’t change much,” Helena commented as she walked around the edge of the office.

Rowena watched her daughter with conflicted feelings.

The mother in her wanted to grab the woman and pull her into a tight embrace, but she knew better than to do so.

Helena had proven herself to be most untrustworthy on more than one occasion and had betrayed Rowena too many times for her to simply forget.

Perhaps she had been a terrible mother, or maybe she’d never stood a chance.

Helena had been twisted and manipulated by her father from a young age.

Thomas had all but insisted that he raise Helena in their home away from the school, and Rowena, much to her regret, had agreed.

Hogwarts was a dangerous place for a baby, and with all her responsibilities here, Rowena could not dedicate the time needed to raise the girl.

Another regret but having endured a difficult birth and not wanting Thomas around, she’d agreed to his suggestion.

Rowena knew that she should’ve known what would’ve come from such an arrangement.

Barely a day passed by that she didn’t visit Helena, despite having to tolerate her unpleasant husband, but it had not been nearly enough to prevent her daughter turning out just like him.

“It doesn’t,” Rowena agreed.

Helena looked towards her and shook her head.

“You still haven’t forgiven me.”

“What am I supposed to forgive you for?” Rowena asked. “The fact that you stole from me, lied to me, and then took enormous amounts of pleasure in doing so?”

Helena’s nostrils flared, the same way Rowena’s did when her temper flared.

The resemblance between the two was quite uncanny, and yet, Rowena struggled to picture the woman before her as the daughter she’d nursed and taught magic to.

Helena was little more than a stranger to her.

She’d always been distant but stealing her life’s work and showing no remorse was little more than Rowena expected from the woman.

“You always cared about your work more than you did me.”

“You never let me care for you! From the moment you could talk, your dismissed me from your life. You only came to Hogwarts because your father grew tired of you because he could no longer use you as leverage against me!”

“He was your husband!”

Rowena snorted derisively.

“Thomas Ravenclaw was nothing more than my tormentor! He didn’t want a wife, he wanted a possession that he could use to cater to his nasty whims. If you have not realised that by now then I fear you never will.”

Helena released a deep breath before nodding.

“I know what he is like,” she murmured. “I should not have spoken about your relationship with him. It’s not my place.”

Rowena frowned confusedly.

It was unlike Helena to apologise for anything.

“What brings you here?” she asked abruptly.

It wasn’t as though her daughter had come to reconcile.

Rowena was not naïve enough to believe that.

“I need your help.”

“My help?”

Helena swallowed deeply and wiped at her eyes furiously as tears began rolling down her cheek.

“Strenger.”

“Strenger?”

Helena nodded.

“I may have gotten myself involved with him on the continent,” she sighed. “It was exciting at first. He was kind to me and gave me things, anything I wanted, but it went horribly wrong. I watched him murder an entire family in cold blood. For hours, he hacked away at them with his sword…”

She choked and shook her head, unable to continue with her tale.

It took several moments for her to compose herself, and she wiped at her eyes once more.

“I ran away,” Helena explained. “In the dead of night, I fled, even though he told me that he would kill me if I left him.”

“So, that is why he is here,” Rowena murmured worriedly.

Helena nodded.

“I’ve heard the rumours of him landing in Britain. He’s come to kill me. Mother, I have nowhere else to go.”

“Then you will stay here,” Rowena replied, tentatively wrapping an arm around her daughter.

“Can I?”

“Of course,” Rowena sighed. “I will arrange for some rooms to be prepared for you.”

Helena offered her a watery smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully. “I will fetch my things. I stayed in the tavern in the village last night.”

Rowena nodded.

“Very well, I will explain everything to the others. I would not expect a warm reception from them, Helena,” she warned.

Helena merely nodded in response before making her way towards the door, pausing as she opened it.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” she whispered. “For everything.”

She left and Rowena wanted to believe that the apology was genuine, but she couldn’t.

She’d heard the same apology too many times before throughout Helena’s life, and yet, the girl would go onto to disappoint her once more.

Nonetheless, she was still her daughter, and Rowena could not bring herself to turn her away when she needed her most.

Neither of them had been good to one another throughout the years, and perhaps that would never change long term, but Rowena hoped that it just might this time.

(Break)

‘Dumbledore searched the entire lake… vanished without a trace… Aurors are looking for him…’

‘Vanished?’

‘… no idea where he has gone…our plan?’

‘…changes nothing… Wormtail… Potter…’

Salazar frowned deeply as he withdrew from Harry’s mind.

“Have you had dreams like this before?”

Harry nodded.

“Before the start of my fourth year, I dreamt about Voldemort killing a muggle, but that couldn’t be real, could it? He doesn’t have a body.”

Salazar hummed unhappily.

Evidently, Riddle had managed to acquire a body of sorts. Whether he was possessing one or had discovered some other means of doing so, it appeared the Dark Lord was no longer a wandering soul piece.

“What about before then?”

Harry shook his head.

“Only the one of my mother being killed. Salazar, what is happening?”

“I do not know,” Salazar answered honestly, but I can assure you, Harry, that you are in no danger. It seems that there is a connection of sorts between you, one that seems to be transcending whatever distance was put between you.”

“What connection?”

It was a question that Salazar had not looked forward to answering, and in truth, he wasn’t sure that Harry was ready for the answer, but he could not bring himself to lie to the boy.

“I believe that the night he came to kill you, he inadvertently placed a fragment of his soul within your own. How it happened, I cannot be certain, but everything you have told me indicates that is what took place.”

Harry looked horrified by the very notion, and Salazar placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“It is not a concern,” he said reassuringly. “It cannot harm you, Harry. If anything, it is quite the gift. Riddle gave you a most exceptional weapon to use against him, along with other benefits.”

Harry swallowed deeply.

“You mean the Parseltongue?”

“Indeed, and we cannot be certain that he hasn’t given you others.”

“Can you get it out?”

Salazar shook his head.

“Nothing short of your death can possibly separate it from you, and I would not recommend that course of action. Harry, I need you to listen very carefully to me. The soul piece is no longer his. By now, I expect it is well on the way to being assimilated with your own, so, it is as much yours as the rest of your own. Think of it as another victory over him. I promise, this is a much worse outcome for him than it is you.”

Harry took some calming breaths, but Salazar seemed to be getting through to the young man.

After a moment, he chuckled humourlessly.

“I was just saying to Morgana that it always felt that there was another side of me, one that was more ruthless and was fighting to get out. I’ve always fought against it. She seems to think that is why I am struggling with my connection to the fang and venom. She says that side of me is as much as me as every other part.”

Salazar snorted amusedly.

“She’s a smart girl,” he sighed, “and in this case, she is right. If you have been resistant to that part of you, and it is you, Harry, make no mistake, then bonding with such a creature would be all but impossible. You have been fighting against your very nature.”

“But isn’t it his nature?”

Salazar shook his head.

“No, Harry, it is your nature, and given all that you have endured, I’m surprised you have managed to resist it for so long. It is time to embrace it. Doing so doesn’t make you like him. If anything, it proves how strong you’ve become because you have not followed the same path he did. Only a weak man would feel the need to do what he has done. Riddle took something invaluable from you the night he killed your parents, and in return, you took something that is equally invaluable to him. Use it, Harry.”

Harry said nothing for a few moments before nodding.

“I will,” he murmured as he stood. “Thank you, Salazar.”

He still seemed to be uncertain, but Salazar did not doubt that he would do what was best for him, and that was to follow his advice.

“You’re welcome, Harry,” he replied, offering the boy an encouraging smile as he took his leave of the office.

When he was gone, Salazar poured himself a cup of mead.

He’d not revealed all he suspected to Harry, but he’d been made aware of all that was relevant to him.

Now, it was up to Harry to decide what he would do, though Salazar was certain once he’d had time to ponder it, Harry would indeed accept who he was, whether it was because of what Riddle had done or not.

“Rowena, what can I do for you?”

The woman was followed into the room by a tight-jawed Godric and uncharacteristically grave Helga, who merely shook her head.

“What’s the girl done now?” Salazar sighed, remembering that Helena was due to arrive today to visit her mother.

(Break)

“Are you certain it is Strenger?” Myrddin asked.

Wilfred nodded.

“We’ve had numerous people positively identify him as one of the men who fled the ship before it could be searched,” he explained. “They killed four of the dockers whilst doing so.”

Myrddin could only shake his head in response.

“I will see what I can do.”

Strenger had once been rather infamous in Britain for being a most despicable man. He and those that followed him had been little more than a band of thugs who took what they wanted from muggles and magicals alike, but it wasn’t until shortly before he’d fled the country that his identity had been unveiled.

For several years, they’d terrorised the country, murdering and stealing all they could, simply for the fact that they enjoyed it.

Strenger had never been poor.

He’d been raised by wealthy parents and had been afforded every advantage in life. He had just been born an evil man.

During his last stint in the country, Myrddin had done his utmost to capture Strenger, but alas, he’d been unable to do so.

The man was the worst kind of criminal.

It wasn’t his uncanny ability for violence that separated him from most other brutish men that roamed Britain at one time or another, but it was the sheer brilliance he possessed.

He was an exceedingly gifted wizard in his own right, but his mind was as keen and sharp as the blade he carried.

Why he had chosen to return, Myrddin didn’t know, but he intended to discover the truth of Strenger’s sudden resurgence within Britain.

“North,” he murmured.

He’d last been seen heading North through Daneland.

Myrddin could not be certain where Strenger was heading, but he had an idea.

There was only one place the man would risk coming so far inland to be, and that was where he once could be found, spinning a yarn and drinking copious amounts of ale in the danker tavern in Hogsmeade.

Strenger had left his love behind when he’d fled Britain, and the only reason Myrddin could comprehend that he would be here, was to see the woman behind.

It just so happened that she owned the tavern he made towards upon his arrival in the village, though he paused in the shadows of the market as he spotted a familiar figure approaching the other inn.

Myrddin frowned, unusually taken aback at the sight of the young girl who had broken his former mentor’s heart.

“What are you doing here, Helena?” he whispered curiously.

The last he’d heard, the girl had stolen quite the relic from her mother, and much like Strenger, had vanished across the sea to the continent.

Why she was back, Myrddin did not know, but he was certain that the sudden arrival of two wayward Britons under such circumstances was merely not a coincidence, a thought that only became more prevalent, as he spotted another figure slinking in the shadows only a short distance away.

(Break)

Harry was still considerably lost in thought, and Morgana gave his hand a supportive squeeze. He’d explained the conversation he’d had with Salazar, and Morgana felt sickened by what she’d learned.

The soul was a most sacred part of a person, and for it to be torn apart went against the very fabric of magic, of anything living, and the nature of life.

Even the muggles of old understood the sanctity of the soul, and not even Morgana would do anything to jeopardise her own.

It was a foolish venture, and one that would see any who indulged in such practices that would see the soul damaged in any capacity suffer an eternity of incompleteness.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

Morgana looked at the small knife she had unwittingly pulled from the sleeve of her robes.

“Oh, I was just experimenting with a few things before you arrived. “You’re not usually here so early.”

Harry nodded almost apologetically.

“Show me,” he requested. “I could use a distraction.”

“I don’t think you…”

Harry took her hand and Morgana stilled.

Whenever he did so, she could almost feel something comforting was over her, almost reassuring her that it would be okay, that she needed not to hide herself from him.

With a nod, she rereleased a deep breath before pricking the tip of her scarred finger with the knife and squeezed out a single drop of blood.

Flicking it into the air, Morgana clapped her hands together, and the droplet burst into flames, from which a fiery crow emerged. It flew around them a few times, and Harry followed it with his gaze, gasping as it took to the sky before plunging into the nearby lake with a screech.

Only a second later, a geyser of fire erupted from within the depths and climbed towards the sky.

It exploded in a shower of sparks and Harry looked questioningly at Morgana.

“There is power in blood, Harry,” she murmured. “I expect there’s a lot of it in yours with what it contains.”

He seemed shocked by what he had seen, but he chuckled as he shook his head.

“That was brilliant,” he declared. “Could you teach me how to do that?”

“I could,” Morgana answered cautiously, “but blood magic is dangerous, Harry. It’s not as simple as I probably made it look. To understand it, you have to understand sacrificial magic, and I’m not sure you’re quite ready for that.”

“I’m not?”

Morgana shook her head.

“I told you that most people find some what I do to be distasteful. I’m not quite ready for you to see it yet.”

Harry nodded his understanding and Morgana breathed a sigh of relief.

“I can show you something else though,” she offered. “I’ve not shown anyone else.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“No, not dangerous, but I’ve never heard of anyone else being able to do it.”

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously.

Closing her eyes, Morgana began to envision what it was she was trying to achieve, and she took in her surroundings in search of inspiration.

Quickly finding it, she shifted her body and took to the sky, unleashing a triumphant squawk as she flew above the trees.

She always felt so free up here, but she did not linger.

After enjoying the breeze ruffling her feathers for a moment, she descended and carefully landed on Harry’s shoulder so her talons did not cut into him deeply.

“You’re an owl,” he whispered in awe, stroking her plumage with his forefinger.

Morgana preened at his touch before leaping off and turning back into her natural form.

With a smile, she closed her eyes once more, and only a moment later, she found herself on her belly, slithering towards Harry across the ground.

If he hadn’t been taken aback by her becoming a bird, he was now.

Picking her up, he began to hiss at her in a way she couldn’t understand, and it was Morgana’s turn to be shocked.

Once more returning to her human form, she stared at the boy wide-eyed.

“You’re a parselmouth?” she whispered.

Harry cursed under his breath before nodding.

“I didn’t realise I was doing it,” he groaned.

“Wait, are you and Salazar…?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, we’re not related. It’s a very complicated thing that I can’t even explain,” he said frustratedly. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I don’t understand it myself. I suppose it is something I’m still coming to terms with.”

Morgana nodded her understanding, but she could not deny that she was shocked by the revelation, and she wondered how such a thing was possible, as she did with many things she’d learned about Harry.

“You can turn into two different creatures?” Harry asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“I can turn into just about any creature I want,” she answered. “I don’t know why, but I seem to have a connection with animals and my magic can mimic them. It doesn’t work with magical creatures. Their magic is too complex and different for me to replicate.”

“That makes sense,” Harry murmured thoughtfully. “Phoenixes are immortal, so, you couldn’t replicate what it does. That magic must be so different o ours.”

“It would be,” Morgana mused aloud. “Does Salazar know about what you can do?”

“He does,” Harry sighed. “I wish I could explain it better, but…”

“You don’t have to,” Morgana whispered, taking him by the hand. “I wasn’t expecting it, but I can’t say I’ve expected anything I’ve learned about you. I suppose we’re both complicated in our own ways.”

Harry chuckled as he nodded.

“I suppose we are,” he said with a smile. “Do you think you can teach me to become an Animagus?”

Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You’re asking me to teach you a lot,” she said with a grin.

“Because you’re brilliant,” Harry replied.

Morgana felt herself blush before she nodded.

“I can try,” she offered. “It might not be the same for you as it was for me, but I will try.”

“Thank you,” Harry said appreciatively, frowning as a loud, screeching filled the air from somewhere in the distance. “What is that?” he asked.

“Nothing good,” Morgana answered darkly. “Something has happened in the village. Maybe an attack, or something else.”

It was only a moment later that four figures could be seen hurrying towards the gates, and Harry immediately stood.

“Come on,” he urged, taking Morgana by the hand and all but dragging her in their wake.

By the time they reached the gates, the figures had gone, but Morgana was left in no doubt as to who they were.

“It must be bad if they’ve gone,” she said breathlessly as she and Harry sprinted towards the village in the distance.

“They don’t usually go?”

“There’s not usually a call for help like that,” Morgana replied gravely. “The village watch usually deals with things.”

“The village watch?”

“Volunteers who help keep order in Hogsmeade,” Morgana explained.

Harry nodded, and they continued along the path, only pausing when a large, gathered crowd came into view.

Cautiously, and with their wands drawn, they approached to find Rowena on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked.

“You should be at the castle,” Salazar chastised.

His expression was always rather grim, but Morgana had never seen the man both so angry and upset.

“We heard the alert,” Morgana explained.

Salazar nodded, but his gaze remained on the distraught Rowena.

“Murder,” he murmured. “Helena, Rowena’s daughter.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered, his eyes scanning assembled people.

“I’LL KILL THE BLOODY BASTARD!” Godric roared. “I’LL STRING HIM UP BY HIS DAMNED ENTRAILS! I’LL SLIT HIS THROAT AND RIP HIS GUTS OUR OF HIS ARSE!”

Salazar nodded his agreement, but he placed a calming hand on Godric’s shoulder.

“Later,” he murmured. “Now is not the time.”

Godric looked towards Rowena and released a deep breath.

“Later,” he agreed.

“Kill who?” Harry asked.

“Strenger,” Salazar said darkly. “Strenger did this.”

It was not a name Morgana had heard, but Harry evidently was familiar with it.

He cursed under his breath and shook his head as she looked towards him.

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmured, scanning the crowd once more as though the murderer was still amongst them. If this Strenger was bright, he would not linger here.

“He’s gone,” one of the village watchmen informed Godric and Salazar. “We tracked him as best we could, but we lost the trail in Daneland.”

“You won’t find him,” Salazar grumbled unhappily.

“Oh, I’ll find him,” Godric declared, clenching his fists in frustration. “Great, this whole thing just gets better,” he added, nodding towards an approaching figure.

Salazar seemed to panic briefly before turning towards Harry with his wand drawn.

In only a matter of seconds, Harry no longer resembled himself, and Salazar whispered a few words to the boy.

“I came as soon as I heard that Strenger was back,” Myrddin sighed sadly as he reached them.

Instinctively, Morgana reached for her wand and pondered why Harry’s appearance had been changed so suddenly when Myrddin had been seen.

Had Harry offended the wizard in some way?

Morgana didn’t know, but it was an interesting if surprising development.

“Well, as always, you came a little too late,” Godric snarked.

Myrddin offered him a calming smile.

“I did,” he agreed. “Had I been here…”

“But you weren’t, Myrddin,” Godric snapped. “None of us were.”

“Strenger is the only person to blame for this,” Salazar interjected. “Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves.”

“Salazar is right,” Myrddin replied with a bow, his gaze flitting towards Rowena and Helga who were being helped into the nearby tavern. “What happened here is a most despicable act, but I cannot say that I am surprised. The girl, like another I know, has a way of finding themselves involved in things they should not be.”

His eyes flickered towards Morgana.

“Coming from a man manipulating the muggles, that’s rich,” Morgana snorted.

Myrddin narrowed his eyes at her as he leaned in.

“As ever, you speak of something you have no understanding of. I am surprised you have been allowed to remain within one hundred leagues of the castle. One day, girl, you will make the fatal error of insulting the wrong person.”

“I do hope that you are not threatening her,” Salazar growled.

“Nothing of the sort,” Myrddin chuckled. “It was merely a friendly warning. There are much less friendly people than me and you roaming these lands. I would not see the girl come to any harm because she cannot rein in her temper.”

The exchange had garnered quite the audience.

Myrddin was well-known in these parts for his wit and talent, and Salazar was perhaps the most respected man in the crowd.

To see them trading concealed barbs was quite the sight indeed.

Taking note of the attention on them, Salazar shook his head irritably.

He was not the kind of man to make a spectacle of himself in such a way, though Myrddin’s look of smugness quickly faded as a large pile of horse manure collided with the side of his head.

Those gathered fell silent for several moments before erupting in a collective bout of laughter.

Myrddin looked furious as his gaze roamed the crowd for the culprit, but he saw no one acting suspiciously.

Morgana had seen who’d done it, and even though she did her utmost not to laugh, she joined the others until Myrddin stormed off in a rage.

When he was gone, Morgana turned to Harry, but was cut off before she could talk by Godric.

“That was a damned foolish thing to do,” he chastised as a ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips, “but I’m very proud of you, Harry. That will be among my favourite memories for years to come.”

“And mine,” Salazar agreed, “and it is fortunate that term has not started or I would be giving you a detention for assaulting a member of the public outside the castle walls.”

“Yes, but you said it yourself, Salazar, term has not commenced, and Myrddin deserved it. Come, let us find Rowena and see what little comfort we can bring her.”

“And then we find Strenger?”

Godric nodded darkly.

“We will hunt the bastard down.”

They left, continuing to murmur amongst themselves as they made their way towards the tavern, and Morgana took Harry by the hand once more and began walking back towards the castle.

She and Rowena hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but what had happened to her daughter was a most unpleasant occurrence, and Morgana wouldn’t wish it upon one of her former mentors.

The same couldn’t be said for Myrddin.

There was a part of him that seemed to be relishing in what had happened, and it sickened Morgana that so few others could see that side to him, or they simply chose to ignore it because of his seeming magical brilliance.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“For what?”

“Throwing horse shit in his face,” Morgana snorted amusedly.

Harry shrugged.

“I wasn’t going to let him talk to you like that.”

His words brought a smile to Morgana’s lips.

She’d never had anyone looking out for her in such a way as Harry had.

Of course, Salazar had spoken for her against the other Founders, but no one had ever done what Harry had.

Still, the question of why he’d been disguised so quickly upon Myrddin’s arrival bothered her, and as she cleared her throat, Harry nodded as though he knew what she was going to ask.

His demeanour had shifted immediately, and any sign of amusement he’d felt had faded.

“It’s complicated,” he chuckled humourlessly, “and a very long story that I do not know how to begin to explain, but I will.”

“You will?”

Harry nodded.

“When the time is right, you will know everything.”

That was good enough for Morgana, but she was left in no doubt that Myrddin was somehow involved in whatever it was that Harry was referring to.

Salazar had been sincerely alarmed at him being seen by the man, and Morgana suppose it had done little good that Harry could’ve drawn unwanted attention to himself by what he’d done with the manure.

Nonetheless, Morgana appreciated what he’d done.

He’d stood up for her when so few in her life had, and as she gave his hand a squeeze of gratitude, he returned the gesture, offering her a reassuring yet resigned smile.