Avalon - Chapter 37 - Blurred Lines

Blurred Lines

Strenger continued to twitch on the floor in a crumpled heap, whimpering, and stammering over his words.

He had yet to break, but Salazar had only just begun.

The Cruciatus Curse was merely a sample of what he would do to the man if he continued to be belligerent. Neither Godric nor Salazar had time for such foolishness, not when Phillip knew they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted from him

It had been a long time since Salazar had administered such treatment to another human.

For the most part, he’d lived much of the past decades in solitude, speaking only to his closest friends in the castle, and writing to his children, who continued to travel the world.

However, he had not changed so much that he was squeamish to the begging and pleading, nor the blood or screams of when as their will was broken.

Salazar had done so to many throughout his life, sometimes through flattery and manipulation, but more than few much like this.

“Phillip, you must know holding your tongue is not an option,” he chided, cutting into the man’s thigh with a cleaving curse.

Strenger hissed in agony, and yet, continued to refuse talking.

Salazar frowned.

Perhaps he was asking the wrong questions.

Thus far, he’d enquired as to what Strenger had been doing, and where he had been these past years. He wanted to know how much pain and misery he and his men had inflicted upon others so that Salazar could return it in equal measure.

“Salazar, I could really use your help!” Godric called, pulling Salazar from his thoughts.

He’d held his own well enough for the past minutes.

Strenger’s men had barely made it onto the landing before Godric had cut them down with either blade or magic, but there were many below them yet, and they would not be so foolish to continue the same tact.

Besides, as strong and durable as Godric was, he was no longer a young man, and it would indeed take the wit and power of both if they were to survive all that was being thrown at them.

“We’re not finished talking yet, Phillip,” Salazar warned, wrapping the man with more bindings before shifting is attention to Godric.

With a wave of his wand, the corridor outside the room was filled with a thick, pungent smoke, and another saw a barrier erected in front of the doorway to protect those within the room.

“Take a break,” Salazar urged. “We will need our energy to get out of here.”

“Do you have a plan for that?” Godric chuckled. “We can’t break the protections, not from here.”

Salazar hummed before aiming a kick at the squirming Strenger, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Well, we certainly can’t go out through the door, and unless you can fly, the roof is a terrible option.”

Godric frowned for a moment before nodding his understanding and Salazar stunned Strenger before aiming his wand at the floor.

“Ready?” he asked.

Godric’s grip tightened around his sword and wand before he nodded, and Salazar unleashed a blasting curse that shook the walls of the building.

The entire upper level of the inn collapsed on the lower, and Salazar cursed his breath.

The spell had worked better than intended, and after righting himself from the sudden descent, he fired a curse into the face of the first man he saw through the smoke, wincing as his eyes exploded in their sockets.

It was a particularly nasty spell, and one Salazar wouldn’t use lightly, but the situation was anything but casual.

No, it would indeed take all they had if they were to escape this deathly scenario, yet, despite this, Salazar had not felt so alive in a very long time.

“You mad bastard!” Godric huffed, engaging another of Stenger’s men before he could fully recover from what had happened.

Salazar too did not remain idle, and though he’d never been so foolish or brazen to find himself in such a seemingly one-sided affair that he was on the wrong side of, he quickly fell into his old ways of fighting.

He unleashed a plethora of spells at anything that moved, and even conjured a few dozen angry serpents to assist him and Godric.

Soon enough, the screams of dying men filled the air, and yet, more and more seemed to appear through the remaining smoke.

Salazar did not yield, nor did he hesitate as he cut them down, one after the other, until he was breathing heavily from the exertion.

Even then, he did not rest.

He was vaguely aware of Godric continuing his own fight only a short distance away, the signing of the sharp blade as it slashed through the air, and the muffled thudding of bodies as they fell.

For how long they fought, Salazar didn’t know, but by the time they were dragging Strenger’s bound body from the debris, he was limping from a wound he’d sustained and he could taste blood in his mouth.

He uncouthly spat it on the ground, and pushed his long, sodden hair out of his eyes.

“My friend, we have gotten too old for this,” he wheezed.

Godric chuckled as he nodded his agreement, helping to lift Strenger onto their nearby horses.

“You’re not wrong, Salazar, but we’ve still got it. They didn’t stand a chance.”

Salazar could only shake his head as he struggled to control his trembling arms enough to pull himself on the horse’s back and paused briefly.

With a nod to himself, he fired a ghostly snake into the sky; a message to those who would inevitably happen upon the devastation they were leaving in their wake.

It would tell them who had been here, who had laid waste to so many men, and remind the world that Salazar Slytherin still existed, that he was a force to be reckoned with, and that he was not to be crossed lightly.

“It’s been some years since I’ve seen that,” Godric commented.

“And let us hope we never have to again,” Salazar chuckled, steadying his breathing as the two of them took their leave of the village with Phillip Strenger in their custody.

They rode almost in silence until they came to a river just as the sun was beginning to rise, and Godric called a halt to allow the horses to drink their fill.

Wasting no more time, Salazar pulled Strenger from the back of the horse and helped him to his knees.

Having been amongst the chaos and bearing witness to the slaughter of his remaining men, what brashness and certainty that had been prevalent was no longer present, but he would get no sympathy for his plight.

Not for all he had done.

“Let us start at the very beginning of this all, shall we, Phillip?” Salazar questioned. “How did you manage to escape after killing Helena, and why did you remain behind?”

Salazar knew that Harry had his suspicions, and though he did not want to believe that his former protégé had done such a thing, he needed to hear the truth of the matter from the one man that could tell him.

“Water,” Strenger pleaded as his gag was removed.

Salazar took a handful of the man’s hair and dragged him towards the riverbank, submerging his head as he reached it.

He held him there long enough that Strenger would begin to question if he would truly drown him, before pulling the spluttering man back from the brink of death.

“ANSWER ME!”

Strenger coughed and fought for air for several moments, but as he began regaining his composure, he laughed.

“Myrddin,” he chuckled. “Myrddin helped me escape and then had me give a vow that I would serve him.”

Salazar’s jaw clenched as his own thoughts were confirmed.

Strenger was not lying.

“Myrddin told you to do everything you have?”

“Not in such specific terms,” Strenger answered, “but he has shown no objection to anything I have done here. He even praised me on occasion for my diligent work.”

“Bastard!” Godric growled. “I’ll tear his damned head from his shoulders. I’ll kick his balls until they’re dangling from his nostrils…”

He continued his threats, and though Salazar remained silently seething rather than exploding in fury, he agreed with everything his companion promised.

Myrddin Emrys would suffer for such treachery, and as Godric had promised Harry not so long ago, whether it came at the hands of the young man, or from Godric and Salazar, his former student would get everything he deserved and so much more.

Releasing a deep breath, Salazar nodded and held up a hand.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, what else do you have to tell me, Phillip?”

Strenger snorted and shook his head.

“You’re only going to kill me either way.”

“You’re right,” Salazar confirmed, “but how cooperative you are will determine how much you suffer. I could drown you one hundred times, or I could burn you to the bone bit by bit. If you loosen your tongue, however, I might just be able to ignore the urge to tear it from your heard with my bare hands. The choice is yours.”

Strenger swallowed nervously as both Godric and Salazar approached, both hoping he would choose the former of the options.

Strenger deserved whatever suffering was exacted upon him, but not as much as Myrddin did, and would inevitably receive.

(Break)

There had indeed been quite the struggle, and Harry immediately sensed the various charms cast about the room to ensure the intruders were neither discovered nor disturbed during the kidnapping of the queen.

Guinevere, despite being a muggle, had put up quite the fight, but she had eventually succumbed to a stunning spell, rendering her unconscious and easy enough to transport away.

Apparation.

There had been three men here to fetch the woman, and they had apparated away, but had done a terrible job at concealing their presence.

Although the trace had become faint, Harry had gotten a good idea of where she had been taken.

He hummed to himself as he inspected the footprints.

One pair was set much deeper than the others, indicating the additional weight of the woman the man was carrying.

From the western coast, they had boarded a ship, and Irish ship belonging to the trio Harry had seen only a matter of days prior.

Perhaps he should’ve taken the initiative to sink them in the bay, but instead, he had allowed them passage, curious to see where they would end up.

Rumours were already abound about Arthur’s victory over the Irish who had been aboard those ships, but the vessels themselves had been used for another purpose.

Harry shook his head as he sensed another presence, one much fresher than the other four, and one still nearby.

“Your disillusionment charm is good, but I can still feel you.”

Myrddin eyed him curiously as he appeared around a dozen feet away before making his way towards Harry.

“Arthur asked for your assistance?”

“He did,” Harry confirmed. “He loves his wife and is using every means of help he has available to him.”

Myrddin was not pleased by the reasoning, but he masked it well enough.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“They’re on a ship, three to be exact, and I expect they are heading towards Eadwulf’s keep, which is not so far from the sea itself.”

Myrddin hummed as he nodded his agreement.

“Why would they not apparate her straight there from Camelot?”

“Because men like you and me would be able to follow, and the last thing Eadwulf would want is us within his walls so easily. Any druids or wizards he has at his disposal are not of your calibre, Myrddin, and he knows it.”

“Nor yours, Sir Harry.”

“Nor mine,” Harry agreed quietly. “Now, we just have to decide our best course of action in retrieving her.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Killing all those aboard the ships quietly and taking the Queen.”

Myrddin chuckled humourlessly.

“It sounds so simple, and yet…”

“Your misguided morals will not allow it.”

“Misguided morals?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say misguided as such,” Harry said thoughtfully. “You have no qualms in seeing people killed but you prefer not to dirty your own hands.”

Myrddin looked at Harry interestedly.

“I understand the way of the world, Harry Potter. I understand that there are those that must die so those who do not deserve it may live in peace. That is why I wish to see Arthur rule over the entire country so that he may bring that peace to all.”

Harry nodded and chose not to argue with the delusional man.

Myrddin might truly care for peace, but Harry would not believe that he truly cared for others, and that he wouldn’t do what it takes to see his ambitions come to fruition.

He’d already proven such, and even more so that he was indeed willing to do things he would never admit to, even if they didn’t pertain to those ambitions.

Helena’s death told him all he needed to know of the seemingly benevolent man, and Harry would see him no differently.

Somehow, Myrddin was responsible for it, and Harry did not doubt that he was responsible for all that Strenger had been doing these past years.

“For what it is worth, I agree that Arthur will be a fine king. He is a man of morals, of good temperament, and any fool can see that he cares for his people. Certainly much more so than Guthrum and Cnut.”

Myrddin’s expression darkened at the mention of the former.

“What Guthrum has done is unforgivable.” he murmured. “You are truly certain you can stop the dead?”

“I can,” Harry said firmly, “but that is for another day. For now, we must find Arthur’s queen, even if she does not deserve it. Why haven’t you told Arthur of her infidelity?”

Myrddin chuckled humourlessly.

“I should’ve known you would be much too observant to miss it, and I have not told him because doing so would serve no purpose.”

“And because she is protected.”

Myrddin narrowed his eyes as Harry removed the necklace from within his tunic.

He had been quite surprised to find such an artefact in the possession of a muggle, and much more so when he realised why the magic felt so familiar.

Guinevere had been gifted it by the Lady of the Lake, and though he could not comprehend why, he knew it was not his to question.

Harry merely wished to know if Myrddin himself knew where it came from, and judging by his unsurprised reaction, he did.

The man seemed to be chastising himself for missing it during his own investigation, and as he reached for it, Harry shook his head.

“If you intend on attempting to destroy the magic, I would not touch it,” he advised. “I cannot say I’ve ever come across anything like this, but it is tied to the queen and a rather powerful protection that will not take too kindly to ill-intent. It calls to her, and it will lead us to where we must go.”

Myrddin did not conceal his displeasure so well this time, and Harry suspected he had already discussed it with Guinevere, something he intended to do himself when the opportunity presented itself.

For now, however, that would wait.

They needed to retrieve the woman first, and Harry was under no illusion that Myrddin would allow him to do so alone.

Besides, it would be another opportunity to see how the man used his magic, even if that meant that Harry would have to continue being reticent for a little longer whilst around Myrddin, if he already was not harbouring suspicion.

Harry did not doubt that he was.

Myrddin was as cunning as they came, and were it not for him being here now, he would not put it past Myrddin to ensure that Guinevere died, which might just be for the best in the long term, but Harry couldn’t allow that.

The Lady of the Lake had gifted the woman the necklace for a purpose, and he did not believe it was to be killed in such a way.

Harry frowned at the thought.

Is this why he felt so compelled to assist Arthur in this matter?

Was this the Lady’s way of ensuring Guinevere did indeed serve her purpose in all that was unfolding?

Was it her magic that was spurring him in this direction?

Harry didn’t know, but he could not shake the feeling that the thoughts he was having might just be true.

The Lady worked in mysterious ways, much like Death had for the Peverells, and whatever entity Herpo invoked had for him.

Regardless of any such conjecture, Harry knew that rescuing Guinevere was the right thing to do, even if it would eventually lead to the woman breaking Arthur’s heart when he didn’t deserve it.

“We find the ships,” Harry murmured, pocketing the necklace.

Myrddin eyed him for a moment before nodding his agreement.

“We find the ships.”

(Break)

Rowena nodded approvingly as she read through the essay of one of her students. Despite having been doing this for several decades now, it never grew tedious. She simply adored seeing the progress of her charges, seeing where they had begun their magical journey to how far they had come along during their time at Hogwarts.

To her, there had been little else more rewarding than passing on the knowledge she had accumulated over the years.

The school would be her legacy and given all the hardship she had endured throughout her life; it was fitting that she be remembered for what she had achieved here.

“Come in,” she called as a knock sounded at the door to her office.

She had only been here for an hour or so now.

Rowena had spent much of the day in her hidden room on the seventh floor, continuing to perfect the intricate magic required to make it work as it did.

She was close to completing it now, and then, she would need to find another project.

What that would be, she didn’t know, but there were many things she could dedicate her time to.

“We got him, Rowena.”

She looked up to see the solemn faces of two of her dearest friends.

Neither Salazar nor Godric seemed pleased, nor did they seem proud.

Salazar had spoken in a matter-of-fact tone as though he was waiting to see how she would react to the news.

Rowena had thought of little else since Strenger had escaped, and she didn’t need to press the men on what they were referring to. She knew they had been venturing away from the castle in search of Strenger, knew what they would do to him when they inevitably caught up with the man who’d murdered her daughter, and Rowena had done nothing to stop them.

“You got him?” she whispered as she stood.

Salazar nodded.

“He’s gone, but there is something you must know. Although Strenger killed Helena, he only got away with it because Myrddin helped him. He assisted Strenger’s escape, and he has remained in Britan since, working under the name Pelleas.”

“Pelleas,” Rowena murmured.

She had heard the name mentioned among her peers, had heard of his deeds across the length and breadth of Britain, and all along, it had been Strenger.

Oddly, she felt no relief at learning of his demise.

She knew that justice had been done, but Rowena only felt numb.

His death would not bring back her daughter, and his suffering would not alleviate her own.

Strenger might be dead, but all he’d done would never be forgotten, nor would it bring her any peace.

“Thank you,” she offered.

Rowena was grateful for what they had done, appreciated the effort they had gone to, and was even sorry they’d dirtied their hands and souls with Strenger’s blood.

Even so, it meant nothing to her.

Both men merely nodded in response and left the room, granting Rowena the space she desired.

Strenger was dead, and Helena had been avenged.

It was what had consumed her, and had she been more like Godric and Salazar, perhaps she would’ve lost herself in the pursuit of vengeance.

Rowena, however, was nurturer, not a destroyer, though thoughts of Myrddin’s involvement stirred something in her.

She’d never been friendly with Strenger, nor had any relationship beyond that of a student and a teacher.

Myrddin was another matter.

He had dined with her and Helena, had spent considerable time with both outside of the classroom, and she had once considered the man a friend.

She swallowed deeply as she peered into the fireplace.

Rowena could scarcely keep her fury at bay, and though she had cried many tears for her slain daughter, more began to flow as she looked back on all that had befallen her family.

Helena was far from perfect, much like Rowena, but she had not deserved the end she had been granted.

She’d deserved the chance to earn forgiveness, and Rowena had deserved the chance to be the mother she had never been allowed to be.

“Mother.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, not allowing the voice to torment her anymore.

“Mother.”

Slowly, Rowena opened her eyes and found them fixed upon the ethereal figure of her daughter.

“Helena?” she whispered in disbelief.

Helena nodded, and Rowena choked.

“You…?”

“Chose to come back. When Strenger was killed, I was given a choice. I chose to be here, where I should always have. I came back to watch over your school.”

Rowena was lost for words, and she shuddered as Helena reached for her hand, yet the coldness of the touch was better than the absence in her heart.

“Mother, I’m sorry for everything. I should never…”

Rowena shook her head.

“We both have much to be sorry for,” she whispered. “I would rather not dwell on our mistakes, not when they no longer mean anything. Can we just enjoy this moment?”

Helena nodded and offered her a smile.

“I wouldn’t want anything more.”

They said nothing, and though Rowena knew this would not heal her, it was more than she could’ve ever asked for. It may not be what she would have wanted for either of them, but it was better than what they’d had from one another.

It was a start, at least, and for the first time since Helena had been killed, Rowena felt that perhaps she might just be able to cope with her loss.

Not that she would forget the reason behind it.

Myrddin would not get away with what he’d done.

If it was the last thing she did, Rowena would ensure the man got his comeuppance for his part.

For that, she would accept nothing less.

(Break)

They watched as the ships approached.

The vessels were moving at speed, making haste for their destination.

Evidently, the captains were nervous, and not wanting to stay in open water for long, with good reason.

The moment Arthur discovered that Guinevere had been taken, Eadwulf knew that the man would stop at nothing to get her back, and though he’d dared not risk a direct route leading into his keep, it had not deterred him from going through with his foolish plan, if indeed it was foolish to begin with.

From what little Harry knew of Eadwulf, he was not a man lacking intelligence, and knowing the reaction he would get from Arthur, he would’ve planned accordingly.

Nonetheless, he could not be so bright to kidnap the queen in the first place, unless he knew he stood little chance in the war to come, and this was merely a final act of defiance.

Harry was not convinced, but he couldn’t be certain the motivation behind taking Guinevere.

Either Eadwulf indeed knew his days of power were numbered, or he thought perhaps he could use the queen for leverage during negotiations. Worse yet was the notion of the man simply wanting Guinevere dead, but if that was so, he would not risk a kidnap.

No, many things were not adding up to Harry, but he cared not for motivations or reasoning of men who fought only for power.

All he knew was that Arthur’s wife had been taken, and the man had asked for his help in getting her back.

He would do that for someone he considered a friend, but as far as his continued refusal to involve himself in Arthur’s campaign, his stance remained steadfast.

He would do no such thing, even if he did believe his friend would be an excellent monarch.

“What do you think, Sir Harry?” Myrddin asked, pulling him from his observations.

“We have to search each one,” Harry answered thoughtfully. “We need to know which one she is on and then take it but be prepared for the others to attack.”

“How many men on each ship?”

Harry shrugged.

“I’d say one or two hundred, if they’re Eadwulf’s men, but there cannot be any less than thirty on each.”

“So, at best, we are outnumbered ten to one per ship.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds like a terrible idea,” Harry snorted. “If they’re muggles, it won’t be a problem. Besides it’s not as though I plan on announcing our arrival.”

“No. but these things have a tendency of going awry.”

Harry nodded.

“You’re not wrong, but what choice do we have? They will make it to land soon enough and be behind whatever protections Eadwulf has created. Let us not pretend that he hasn’t sought out his own magical force after hearing of what happened in Camelot and beyond.”

Myrddin hummed unhappily.

“Very well,” he agreed. “Shall we take one each and meet on the third?”

“I’ll take the middle,” Harry decided, knowing that Guinevere would unlikely be at the rear of the column.”

“Then I will take the rear and save the front for us both. We search only as carefully as possible so not to be discovered.”

“Well, I was planning on just finding the captain and asking if he’s hiding a stolen queen on board,” Harry said sarcastically. “For an additional craic, I might just bloody well do it naked. That’ll get their attention.”

Myrddin shook his head disapprovingly.

“Do you take nothing seriously, Sir Harry?” he asked with a frown.

“Some things I do,” Harry said darkly. “I take them very seriously.”

With that, he cast a disillusionment charm over himself before vanishing, not missing the odd look Myrddin shot him.

He knew he should be careful, should tread just that little more cautiously, but Harry had grown tired of Myrddin’s games and false benevolence. He’d seen through the man’s façade, seen what he could do when he could justify such actions to himself, and Harry was beginning to despise him for it.

In many ways, he reminded him of Dumbledore; seemingly kind-natured, almost fatherly in his ways, and unthreatening, but he was also like Tom Riddle; manipulative, charismatic, and lacking in empathy when it came to achieving his goals.

Myrddin may not be quite the monster Riddle was, but it was within the man, and Harry had no doubt that he would see that side of Myrddin rear its head long before the man died at his hands.

(Break)

Why had Arthur sent for Harry Potter?

Myrddin did not understand the need for such a thing, not when he was more than capable of remedying the situation himself.

Did he no longer trust Myrddin as he once had?

No, that wasn’t it at all.

Arthur was merely worried for the welfare of his wife as any man would be, but Potter’s presence complicated things.

If the opportunity were to present itself that Guinevere might just be killed by her captors, there had been nothing stopping Myrddin from allowing that to happen. Now, however, that couldn’t be so.

Potter was far too cunning for his own good, and Myrddin could not take such a risk, not unless Potter somehow met his demise here also.

Myrddin paused at the thought.

Could he somehow orchestrate that without drawing suspicion to himself?

Potter was indeed proving to be problematic, appearing places he was not expected or welcome, and somehow finding himself involved in things that seemingly did not concern him.

Why would he so willingly continue to help Arthur when he’d so ardently negotiated to not be involved in the campaign?

Myrddin did not know, but the more time he spent around Harry potter, the more the man’s presence unsettled him.

Sometimes, it was as though Potter was trying to look into his very soul, and he found it to be lacking.

Could he possibly know of all Myrddin had done to see Arthur’s rise?

Myrddin did not believe so, but the way the man often spoke made him feel as though he was being accused and even judged by the other man.

He shook his head as he followed suit and cast his own disillusionment charm over himself, apparating away only a moment later and appearing at the rear of the ship.

Quickly, Myrddin realised that there was indeed many aboard, and as he began carefully skirting around the deck in search of any sign of Guinevere, he listened to the men speak.

What quickly became clear was that they were Eadwulf’s own men, but more concerning was the presence of many Danes amongst them.

Had Eadwulf reached an accord with the southern ruler of the northwest?

If so, Arthur might just be in considerable peril, and if not, where had these Danes come from?

Myrddin did not know, and it was something that would continue to concern him until he knew all pertaining to the Danes present on these ships.

What was equally concerning was the number of magicals amongst both the Saxons and Danes on the ship, and Myrddin could only assume the other two would be equally populated, and dangerous.

For now, however, he continued his search, cautiously making his way into the bow of the ship whilst he pondered the many problems plaguing him.

Guinevere, it turned out, wasn’t on board, and Myrddin released a deep sigh as an idea formed to rid himself of one of those rising problems immediately.

With a nod to himself, he vanished once more and appeared on the deck of the middle ship, quickly setting alight the large sail propelling it forward.

“INTRUDER!” he bellowed, doing his utmost to disguise his voice before vanishing again, retreating back to the rear vessel and setting off a caterwauling charm.

Then, he remained hidden in the shadows to watch the chaos unfold, occasionally casting a spell or two to ensure the chaos continued, giving him plausible deniability to being the one that caused the uproar.

If all went well, both Potter and Guinevere would not survive the night, and if Myrddin was careful enough, perhaps he could be the one to ensure that on both counts.

He looked on as the ship at the front turned to assist the other two, and nodded to himself as the chaos aboard the one Potter had chosen only grew in intensity.

(Break)

She glared at the burning sail, and felt the protections placed on the ship come into effect, exposing her as the disillusionment charm was removed.

Drawing her wand and sword as the men began pouring out of the woodwork like cockroaches, she readied herself, her nostrils flaring with the knowledge that she had not given away her presence.

No, but someone had, and she had a very good idea on who that was.

For now, she knew she had to put those thoughts to the back of her mind.

Arthur’s queen was somewhere on one of these ships, and she knew she had to get to her before Myrddin did.

There was no telling what the man was thinking by doing something so brazen, but then again, there was no reward without taking such risks.

He intended for her to die here tonight, and the queen also.

Bringing her wand to bear, she banished the first of the attackers to spot her into some of his companions, and the curses began escaping the tip of her wand in vain as she fought to survive, fought to retrieve Guinevere, and fought for the opportunity to remove Myrddin’s head from his shoulders.

“IT’S THE BLOODY CROW!”

Morgana woke with a gasp.

Her breathing was laboured but she wasted no time in preparing for a hasty departure.

Harry needed her, and with the little effort on her part, she quickly deduced exactly where he was.

Apparating away from their makeshift home, she had only one thought in her mind.

She needed to protect her husband.

Harry was vulnerable, and if Myrddin had indeed intentionally given his position away, it meant that he finally saw Harry as a threat to be rid of, but Morgana would not allow that.

Myrddin had evidently not learned of her presence in Harry’s life, but that would change tonight.

Myrddin Emrys would see for himself what it was he had unleashed upon himself with his duplicitous actions against Morgana’s husband.

(Break)

Harry drove his blade through the stomach of another man, and ducked as a jet of light was hurled towards him before returning fire, eliciting a scream of agony from yet another victim.

Even so, he was fighting with his back against the wall as he did his utmost to destroy some of the protections in place so that he might retreat to the other ship.

Guinevere was not here, and unless Myrddin had indeed gone out of his way to rescue the woman instead of allowing her to perish, she was not on the rear ship, which was plunged in chaos, much like his own.

Nonetheless, Harry was left in no doubt as to the reason behind his discovery.

Myrddin had given him away in the hopes of seeing him killed, and Harry had every intention of returning the favour.

Using his blade to block another flurry of spells, he unleashed a guttural roar as he pressed forward, removing the head of a man as he raised his wand once more.

If he could not meticulously remove the protections in place, he would need to do so with force.

A loud explosion rent the air as an enormous hole was blown through the centre of the ship, and with another flick of his wand towards the wheel used to steer it, the vessel began to head towards the one that had been tailing it whilst Harry continued to fend off the attackers.

He needed to time the execution of his hurried plan just right, and as he parried an axe to prevent it from being lodged in his chest, he fired another blasting curse, dispelling many of the attackers.

Some managed to defend themselves from the second explosion using their wands, but already, their fate was decided.

Bracing himself for the impending impact, Harry cast a final spell, engulfing the rest of the ship in an eerily green fire before hurling himself over the side.

Despite doing so, the result explosion telling him that the protections had been destroyed sent him plunging into the icy depths of the sea, and he kicked his legs fiercely until he could breathe again.

It appeared as though it was raining fiery embers and timber that had been sent scattered, but Harry took no time watch it.

Instead, he made his way to the lead ship, which had once more shifted course to avoid colliding with the two burning other wreckages.

If life was kind to him in any way, Myrddin would have been caught up in the blast, but Harry had his doubts.

It would all just be too easy for it all to end in such a way for the man.

No, he’d likely already fled to tell Arthur of the disaster that had occurred here, or that he’d been unable to locate Guinevere, and that Harry had been killed.

He would use the silver tongue he possessed to feed the king a story or two, and Arthur would lose himself in grief of losing his wife too much to question his mentor.

Harry’s nostrils flared once more as he carefully continued on his way towards the last of the ships, and with a little help from his magic, he made it.

The sound that greeted him was that of men talking loudly, questioning what had happened, and on high alert.

“No one would’ve survived that!”

“I know what I saw! There was a man swimming in the water!”

“Do you see him now?”

“Then he has drowned. Come. Let us get back to land quickly. Eadwulf wants the woman. He cares nothing for us or these Irish ships!”

Guinevere was aboard the third of the ships, and Harry quickly propelled himself into the air and cast another disillusionment charm.

There were several men on deck, but Harry could immediately feel Guinevere’s presence.

She was being kept in the hull, but before he could make his way towards the door to descend into the depths of the ship once more, he was thrown into the side of the captain’s cabin.

Screams began to fill the air as another fire broke out, and though his ears were ringing and Harry could see little through the smoke, he pushed himself back to his feet and began fighting his way through the crowd, only to find himself defending against a sudden flurry of spells that seemed to come from all directions.

“Shit!” he cursed, as he ducked into the crowd, and watched as several men collapsed to the ground around him.

Harry quickly spotted where much of the spell fire was coming from, and he narrowed his eyes as he prepared his rebuttal.

His first offering sent those around him sprawling to the ground, and his second was aimed towards the surprised familiar face.

Myrddin had evidently attempted to keep himself concealed in the fracas but had failed.

Evidently, he had not fled as Harry had initially thought, but had been waiting for the next opportunity to strike against him to ensure he did not make it out of here alive.

Myrddin, however, did not that Harry had spent more time than most fighting for his life, and he’d become rather adept at it.

Nonetheless, seeing as he had been spotted, Myrddin doubled down on his own efforts, firing a string of spells towards Harry, only to balk as one was returned, though it came from his left.

He managed to block the spell, and he raised his wand to offer his own reply, but Harry struck next, and by the time Myrddin managed to shield himself from the effort in a golden dome, it was too late.

The orange fire that was consuming the ship had turned a deathly white, and as it roared towards the man, a black flame mingled within it.

The shield surrounding the man screech in protest before collapsing, and the shocked Myrddin hastily apparated away.

Most on the ship had died during fighting, and those that had not, were in no fit to continue on.

Ensuring that Myrddin had indeed left, Harry hurried into the bowels of the ship, breathing a sigh of relief as he found Guinevere cowering in the corner, shaken up, but not seemingly hurt.

“H-Harry Potter?” she asked confusedly.

Harry nodded as he opened the door to the cell she’d been kept within.

“Come on, I’ve come to take you back to your husband.”

“And what about my husband?”

Despite all that had happened here, Harry smiled at the sound of Morgana’s voice.

“Your husband is doing well enough,” he answered.

Morgana hummed.

“And yet, he still manages to find himself in these kind of situations.”

“Did you expect anything less?”

“No,” Morgana answered, “but we were supposed be doing these things together, no?”

Harry nodded.

“You can shout at me as much as you like once we get her home.”

“You’re going to return her, even after what Myrddin did?”

“That’s exactly why I’m going to return her,” Harry snorted. “He wants Guinevere dead, and his plan failed. You’ll be needing this,” he added, handing the queen her necklace. “The Lady of the Lake won’t be too pleased if you lost it.”

“You know of her?” Guinevere whispered.

Harry only nodded in response before pulling the woman to her feet.

“Come on, your husband is waiting for you. Maybe it would’ve been better for Arthur to let Myrddin kill you, but I won’t have your blood on my hands, and she clearly has a plan for you. When you inevitably break his heart, he will take yours and Lancelot’s heads, and I will not mourn for either of you,” Harry warned.

Guinevere merely glared at him in response, and Harry shook his head.

“I’ll be home shortly,” he promised Morgana, “and thank you for being there.”

Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Always,” she replied sincerely, “but if you feel like really making it up to me, you’ll get no complaints.”

She placed a kiss on his lips before apparating away, and Harry followed as he took hold of Guinevere’s hand, knowing that things would be different now on.

There was no longer any blurred lines between he and Myrddin.

The man had tried to kill him, and Harry was more than willing to return the favour the moment the opportunity presented itself.