Avalon - Chapter 43 - Doubts

Doubts

“Do you know how to use a sword, Lars?” Arthur asked curiously.

The boy shook his head.

“My father says that I will never have the need to use one, but that I can learn when I am older. He says that he will bring peace to our lands.”

“It’s an admirable dream, and one I share,” Arthur replied as he stood.

He took two training swords from the rack in the makeshift yard his men had created and handed one to the boy.

“Well, you’re older now than when you spoke to him last. Stand up.”

The boy did so and accepted the sword.

He marvelled at it for a moment before swinging it clumsily. It was indeed clear that he’d never handled a blade, and Arthur gently corrected his grip.

“You mustn’t hold it either too tightly or too loosely. Both will only see it knocked from your hands. You have to find something in between where you have enough control of the blade, but not hold it so your arms is so stiff. There is an art to it that can only be achieved with practice.”

Lars nodded and a smile crested his lips.

“Like this?” he asked, holding the sword up.

“Just like that,” Arthur praised. “Now, when you swing it, it is easier to follow the path of the blade to either defend yourself, or make your next attack, like this.”

He demonstrated some simple movements with the sword, and Lars looked on, enthralled by the display.

“See how I follow the weight of the sword instead of going against it. You try.”

Again, the boy swung the sword a few times. Although his movements were laboured and unpractised, he quickly grasped the concept of using it.

“Good,” Arthur praised once more. “Keep practicing,” he added as he spotted the approaching Gawain.

“Do you think it is wise to train a potential enemy?” the man asked.

“He’s just a boy.”

“For now, but he won’t be forever,” Gawain pointed out.

Arthur released a deep breath and nodded.

“I know, but he’s a good kid, Gawain. Him being here has made me realise that maybe I’d like to be a father soon, but I’m not so certain that will happen.”

“Why not?”

“Guinevere hasn’t gotten pregnant yet. We’ve been married for several years now, and well, it’s not as though we don’t spend time together.”

Gawain frowned before clapping him smartly on the shoulder.

“It will happen when god wills it.”

Arthur nodded.

“What did Harry say about the Green Knight?”

“That it’s probably an illusion, or something like that. He said he’s going to look into it for me.”

“So, you feel better about it?”

“I won’t until it is over with,” Gawain grumbled. “Any news from Lancelot?”

“They’re making good ground. They should arrive in East Anglia in only a few days. By then, the fleet will be waiting for them to collect.”

“Whilst we wait here and could be attacked at any moment. If Eadwulf knows we are missing one thousand men, he might just do it.”

“Perhaps, but I do not think so,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “He will not leave the safety of his keep. He will be suspicious of a lower number than he’s already undoubtedly seen, too cautious to take advantage of it. He will wait until we leave or attack. He thinks he has all the time in the world for either of those.”

“But he doesn’t, not if we secure the fleet.”

“We will,” Arthur said confidently. “The path will be cleared for us before Lancelot and Cnut arrive.”

“Potter?”

Arthur nodded.

“Myrddin is no longer fond of him,” he sighed.

“I think Myrddin might just be a little envious of Harry potter,” Gawain snorted. “He’s a druid, just like him, but it is Potter’s deeds they speak of across the land, Potter’s victories over his enemies. They do not speak of Myrddin.”

Arthur frowned thoughtfully.

Perhaps Gawain was right.

Myrddin, for the past years, had been at Arthur’s side, something he already knew many magicals would not approve of. Instead of building his own legacy, he had been building Arthur’s.

“Do you think him envious, Gawain?”

The man shrugged.

“He will unlikely admit it, but aye, I think he is jealous of Harry Potter. He sees himself as an authority among his people, but it is Potter they turn to now, even me. I could’ve asked Myrddin for his thoughts on the Green Knight, but my preference was for Harry.”

“Why?”

Gawain frowned.

“Because he is as honest as any other man I have met. I am not saying Myrddin isn’t but his honesty is selective. He shares only what he wishes to. I do not speak ill of him, but he has too many secrets. It’s understandable. He is your advisor, but even with you, he is not as forthcoming as he should be, my king.”

“I have had similar thoughts on the matter,” Arthur sighed.

“So, what will you do?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Until Myrddin gives me a reason to no longer trust him, I must keep my faith. He is the reason I am here at all. He had the foresight to act as he did since before I was born and watched over me throughout my life. He ensured I made it so far, and did so humbly so that I might understand the plight of every man I meet. Yes, I often find his ways frustrating, and I wish he would share all with me, but I must believe he has my best interests at heart as he always has.”

Gawain nodded his understanding.

“I believe he does, but he still treats you as a boy, or he does not believe you capable of handling the truth. Whatever his reasons may be, it is no longer acceptable, Arthur. You are his king and will be king of all men here. He should not keep anything from you.”

“I know,” Arthur murmured, “and it is my hope he will have the faith in me that I have shown in him before I lose it.”

(Break)

“Guthrum is obviously not expecting anyone to come here,” Harry whispered as he observed the dock.

There were only around thirty guards standing vigil over them, and no sign of any additional magical protections.

“Why would he?” Morgana asked. “There is no impending battle here, but it is still stupid to leave his lands so undefended. East Anglia could be taken before he could make it back with his forces.”

“But not the dead and his two witches,” Harry pointed out. “They could be here in a matter of hours.”

Morgana hummed as she nodded.

“Then we’d best not linger,” she urged. “What do you think?”

“I think we should subdue them. There’s no need to kill the guards.”

“And you have a way to subdue thirty men at once?”

Harry grinned as he nodded.

“That surprises you. You may know more about the magic you prefer, but when it comes to fighting, I am leagues ahead.”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Harry teased. “Watch and learn, oh beautiful wife of mine. I’ll show you how it is done.”

Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to proceed.

Harry did so and cast a disillusionment charm over himself.

As he ventured closer to the docks, he flicked his wand towards the water, creating a disturbance which attracted the entire group of Guthrum’s men.

“What was that?” one of them asked.

“Just a bloody fish.”

“Must’ve been a big fish.”

“That was no fish,” another said darkly. “It’ll be the spirits that curse this land. Guthrum should never have involved himself with those witches, and now, god will punish us all.”

“Shut up, Addam,” another huffed irritably. “It was a damned fish and nothing else.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Addam grumbled, taking hold of the cross dangling from his neck. “The lord is wroth with us, and we will burn in hell.”

“Not quite,” Harry whispered, bringing his wand down towards the ground in a sharp motion.

A silver light erupted from the tip, and though the resulting explosion was quite deafening, the dock remained intact.

As the smoke cleared, it revealed the unconscious group of men, and Harry grinned at the approaching Morgana.

“What was that?” she asked curiously.

“A very useful spell I invented,” Harry said smugly. “It is quite ingenious.”

“Did you intentionally invent it?”

Harry frowned as he shook his head.

“No, but that is neither here nor there. I invented it, and it will leave them out for some time. You can’t deny it is useful.”

“It is,” Morgana agreed, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, “but every spell I have invented, I have done so intentionally.”

“I have others!” Harry protested.

“I’m sure you do, my dear,” Morgana giggled, “but before we argue about just how great you are, maybe we should get this lot secured.”

Harry muttered under his breath as he did so, though he could not prevent himself from grinning as Morgana rolled her eyes at him.

“It is a good spell,” she praised, “but don’t get too smarmy about it. Arrogance does not suit you, husband.”

“It doesn’t,” Harry sighed.

It did indeed take some time for the men to wake, and when they did and discovered themselves to be tied up, they quickly became fearful.

“We will not harm you,” Harry assured them. “So long as you comply, you have nothing to fear from us.”

“Who are you?” one the men asked.

“People who just want peace,” Morgana answered. “Your king has done something unforgivable, ad it cannot be allowed to continue. His ships will be taken, and I expect he will return soon enough, bereft of the monstrosities he allowed to be created.”

“You know how to be rid of them?”

“We do,” Harry replied.

“Then bless you,” Addam whispered. “Even now we feel them linger. It is not natural, and we will be damned for our part in them being here.”

Harry offered no reply.

He could not profess to believe in god, nor any of the other gods he’d heard of.

He believed in magic, and of course, in Death, but he was not such a devout follower as Ignotus and Owain.

Maybe he had begun to believe in Fate too.

He certainly could not deny or ignore the presence of it in his life, but he did not wish to believe in something that seemed so wholeheartedly against him, and something that chose to continually put obstacles in his path.

He shook his head of such thoughts.

Perhaps god, or gods were indeed real, but he did not wish to focus on such, not when he had more than enough to occupy his mind.

“When can we expect Arthur’s men to arrive?” Morgana asked.

“I’d say in a day or so if they move swiftly. Until then, maybe we should have a look around and learn the layout of the land, just in case we may need it.”

“I will place the men on one of the ships.”

Harry nodded and began assisting his wife.

He too could feel the lingering unpleasantness of the dead, and tough he would wait for Arthur’s men to arrive, he could already scarcely wait to be away from East Anglia once more.

(Break)

She coughed once more and reached for the goblet with a trembling hand. Helga looked upon Rowena with concern, but she waved her friend off.

“It is just a passing sickness,” she assured the woman.

“You do not look well,” Helga commented, taking the goblet back. “You are paler than usual, and your flesh is clammy.”

“Are you telling me I do not look my best?”

“Yes.”

Rowena frowned and shook her head.

“I’ve gotten little air and sun,” she sighed. “I have not felt like leaving these rooms much since learning of Myrddin’s betrayal. I loathe him, Helga. I despise him with everything I am.”

“But shutting yourself away is not helping. You are doing your health a disservice. What is it that occupies you?”

Rowena offered her a smile and opened the drawer to her desk.

“It is my life’s work,” she explained. “It is a compilation of all of the spells, finished and unfinished, and theories I am working on. I intend to gift it to Harry, as I have no other child to pass on my legacy. For what use to him it will be, I do not know, but I would like for him to have it.”

The tome was indeed already impressive.

It was far too heavy to carry with one hand, and it helped Rowena realise that she had indeed dedicated many of her years to the study of magic. Even so, it was not finished and would take several more moons of dedicated work for it to be so.

“This is incredible,” Helga murmured as she carefully turned the pages. “I expect I would not understand much of it.”

“You discredit yourself,” Rowena chided lightly. “Were you to read and learn from it, you would undoubtedly come to understand it all. Much of it is complex, but not beyond the skill of those with talent. I didn’t want my work to go to waste when I am no longer here.”

Helga shot her a queer look, and Rowena offered her a smile.

“I am well,” she promised, “just no longer at my best. We have grown old here, I fear, and time has passed us by too quickly.”

Helga nodded.

“It has,” she agreed. “The stairs become more difficult, and restful sleep less frequent. Even my very bones seem to ache from time to time, but I regret nothing. We have built something that will withstand, and our work here will never be forgotten.”

Rowena smiled once more.

“It will not, Helga,” she replied. “Hogwarts will endure, perhaps much longer than our names.”

(Break)

It was odd to find himself riding alongside a man he stood opposite to on the battlefield not so many moons ago. Cnut was not a man of many words, but his company was pleasant enough.

Lancelot had not spent any time with a Dane outside of battle.

He’d always thought of them as little more than bloodthirsty tribes of marauding savages, taking what they had not earned, and slaughtering all that stood int heir way.

He’d learned that his thoughts could not be further from the truth.

Yes, they did take land and riches of others, but there was a distinct culture about them, and he found it to be rooted deeply in honour, and the gods they cherished so dearly.

“I have thought it too,” Cnut murmured. “It is strange how we find ourselves allies now when either of us could’ve killed the other not so long ago. Times change quickly here.”

“They do,” Lancelot agreed. “Why did you come to Camelot? Did you wish to take advantage of Arthur’s inexperience?”

Cnut shook his shaggy head.

“No, I sought only to protect my people from an inevitable invasion I though it best to take the fight to Arthur rather than wait for it to come to me. I gave all I could to my efforts, and yet, I failed. Not because of Arthur, but because of Potter.”

Lancelot was surprised by the explanation, but when he pondered it, he knew what the Dane said made sense.

He’d not considered that he would be part of an invading force from Wales, crossing into England to unseat the kings that had established themselves there.

That was indeed what Arthur was, though he did so with only the best of intentions.

“Potter has a way of changing things in favour of those he is helping.”

Cnut grunted as a frown furrowed his brow.

“He urged me to join Arthur, convinced me that it was the best way to keep my people safe. He believes Arthur to be a man of honour.”

“He is,” Lancelot assured him. “You may not like him, but Arthur has no intention of harming any he doesn’t have to. That was why he accepted you, not just because you came to our aide.”

Cnut nodded.

“Potter was right then,” he sighed, “but we still find ourselves at odds. He will kill me one day, I expect, but I will not make it easy for him. Nonetheless, so long as I die with my sword in my hand, my demise will come at the hands of a great warrior, and I will be welcomed in Valhalla.”

“Heaven?”

“The heaven for warriors,” Cnut explained. “We are coveted by our people, and by the gods we fight for. If we perish bravely, we are accepted. If we do not die a warriors death, we spend eternity in Niflheim. It’s a cold, misty land that no true Dane wishes to find themselves in.”

“Fascinating,” Lancelot mused aloud. “We have heaven and hell, and you have your own places much similar.”

“Our faiths are not so different,” Cnut murmured. “We have our gods, and you have your one. Despite what you may think of us, we do not despise Christians. We would sooner live in peace. We merely want land to call our own so that our people may thrive and prosper. Ah, I can smell the sea.”

It had taken the better part of four days of hard riding to reach East Anglia, and having entered the lands the previous one, they’d found it to be almost empty save for the isolated villages along the way.

They’d met no resistance, and the locals had even been rather friendly towards them.

“You know, we could take this place,” Cnut observed, “but Guthrum would only return and kill us.”

“That is why we must hope he is killed sooner rather than later, and his monsters returned to whence they came.”

“Potter intends to see to it,” Cnut revealed. “Halt!”

They, along with the following party came to a stop and Lancelot observed the three dozen ships or so in the harbour below.

“No guards,” Cnut pointed out. “Potter?”

“He did say he would secure them.”

“Then let us not linger,” Cnut urged.

They carefully navigated their way down the path towards the sea where they were greeted by Harry and his wife.

The man stared at Cnut through narrowed eyes, and Lancelot got a glimpse of what it would be like to find himself an enemy of Harry Potter.

“There are thirty men on the ship behind me. They’re unharmed, and they will be released to return to their families.”

“Agreed,” Lancelot assured him, not even pondering how the two of them had managed to subdue thirty others.

“Has there been any sign of Guthrum?”

“None,” Cnut answered, his own intense gaze fixed on Harry. “I am sure you will know of it before us. Now, we must make haste. It will take a number of days to sail back to where we came from.”

Harry merely nodded in response and shot Cnut a final glare before vanishing with his wife.

“He really doesn’t like you, does he?”

“The feeling is mutual, even if I am in his debt,” Cnut grumbled, gesturing for their men to begin boarding the ships.

(Break)

“How did you meet Potter?” Gunnar asked curiously, checking the venison he held in the fire to ensure it wasn’t burning.

Leofric shook his head.

“It wasn’t far from here,” he said amusedly. “We knew the Irish were attacking, and by the time we arrived, Harry, Owain, and their men were already fighting. I’ve never seen anything like it. We met during and shortly after when Owain told me to leave these lands. It’s not often I feel fear, but when either of them take exception to you, it fills you.”

Gunnar laughed amusedly and Darragh frowned.

“I don’t understand why my people try to attack here. It does not end well for them.”

“Aren’t you going to go home?” Leofric asked.

“There is nothing but death waiting for me there. I quite like it here. Maybe I’ll settle.”

“Well, it’s safe,” Leofric pointed out. “Not even Arthur can intrude on these lands. Harry made sure of that. You could always come with me. Serving Arthur is great.”

Neither men seemed convinced.

“No, I don’t think so. He is your king, Leofric, and I respect that, but he is not mine. I want to be free of all kings, and this is probably the only place in Britain that can happen,” Gunnar replied.

Leofric nodded his understanding.

With everything both he and Darrah had endured throughout their time with Guthrum, he could not hold it against them that they wished to enjoy their freedom.

“Did you see what happened with the dragon?” Gunnar asked. “We’ve heard the stories and even saw an amusing mummer’s show in the north.”

Leofric nodded gravely.

“I saw it. All of us at Camelot saw it. If it wasn’t for Harry, we would’ve been little more than a pile of ash.”

“He really flew on it?”

“And killed it in the air,” Leofric confirmed. “Even for a druid, it was a dangerous thing to do.”

Gunna snorted amusedly as he laid down next to the fire.

“You know, I might just stay near Harry. Seems like someone good to be around when the trouble starts.”

“You are more than welcome to, but you will find your own home.”

Leofric grinned as Morgana arrived and shot Gunnar a pressing look.

“Oh, I have no problem doing that,” he assured her. “We are grateful for your hospitality.”

Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, do not think I have a problem with you staying with us. I would say the same to anyone else in your position. Me and Harry like our privacy, that is all, and as for him being around when there is trouble, I know him well enough to know that he is the one who seems to attract it. He’s always been that way.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Several years now,” Morgana answered fondly.

“So, he’s always been one for trouble?”

“You have no idea,” Morgana sighed amusedly. “If I was to tell you of all the trouble he has found himself in, we would be here all night, but for now, I’m going to bed.”

“Is Harry not here? I was hoping we would share a cup of ale,” Leofric replied.

“He will be soon. He has a few things to do first, but Arthur can expect his fleet in the coming days. Harry and I secured it and Lancelot and Cnut have collected it from East Anglia.”

With that, she headed into the cabin, and Leofric could only shake his head.

Once again, Harry and his wife had assisted Arthur more than the king could ever ask for.

Soon enough, the debt he owed them would amount to more than Arthur could ever hope to repay.

(Break)

Godric could only shake his head.

He remembered Marcus Gamp.

The boy often did not take himself seriously but had been a dedicated student when it mattered. He found himself provoking the ire Rowena regularly, but he’d never done anything nefarious.

To learn of his untimely death only added to the others over recent years.

“I remember him,” he confirmed. “What happened to Marcus?”

“It seems as though he got himself caught up in something he shouldn’t have,” Salazar explained. “Maybe just a duel gone wrong, but I do not believe so. Whoever killed him had meticulously cleaned up after themselves, and it doesn’t feel right. Marcus gambled and drank up and down the country, but what good to some he owes money to if he is dead.”

Godric hummed thoughtfully.

It didn’t make any sense to him either, and yet, he could think of no other reason someone would risk killing him.

His father was a member of the Wizard’s Council after all, and his murder would garner attention that none would want focused on them.

“I will tell Harry,” he sighed. “They were friends when Marcus was here.”

Salazar nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you. I’d best check on Rowena.”

“She’s still unwell?”

“She is, but she will not let anyone examine her.”

“You think it might be something serious?”

Salazar shrugged.

“I do not think so, but she wouldn’t tell us if it was. I fear she is spending too much time with Helena. It cannot be good for her.”

“Are there any studies on prolonged exposure to ghosts?”

“Not that I have come across. Still, the girl is dead. Forgive me for my bluntness, but Rowena must come to terms with it fully and not use the ghost as a crutch.”

“I agree,” Godric said sadly as he stood and summoned his cloak. “I will speak with Harry. He will still be awake and I’d rather not sleep on it.”

Salazar nodded his agreement.

“Give them both my best.”

“Of course,” Godric assured him. “Do you miss having her around?”

“I do,” Salazar replied unashamedly. “I know she is safe and well, but that doesn’t stop me worrying about her.”

“No, I know the feeling,” Godric snorted, his thoughts drifting towards the young man he would be seeing shortly.

(Break)

“The ships have been secured, and I expect they will not linger.”

“How long until they arrive?”

Harry shrugged.

“They will go south and circle around the country to land here,” Harry explained. “It depends on the weather and how fast they can get the ships to move through the water. They may need to stop with the tides, so anything up to ten to twenty days, maybe less if they are fortunate.”

Arthur nodded his understanding and released a deep sigh.

“Thank you again, Harry,” he said sincerely, shooting a glance towards Myrddin, who was talking to Bors and Gawain near the fire in camp.

“He is loyal to you,” Harry assured him.

“He is?”

Harry frowned as he nodded.

“Then why are the two of you at odds?” Arthur pressed. “Myrddin avoids the question whenever I ask him.”

“He saw fit to kill me,” Harry answered. “Whilst I was attempting to rescue your wife, he attacked me.”

Arthur was surprised by the revelation and couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Are you certain?”

Harry shot him a pointed look and Arthur waved him off.

“I cannot think of any reason he would do that,” he murmured angrily.

Harry shrugged.

“He either thinks I am a threat to you, have too much influence over you, enough to irk him, or I am a threat to him.”

Arthur shook his head.

“You’ve only ever helped me.”

“And some might see that as me attempting to curry favour with you.”

“All I have seen is the opposite. You have resisted any favour I have tried to show you from the very beginning.”

“Because I do not want it. For some reason, our paths are crossing, and our interests align. That is all.”

Arthur nodded.

It had been a point of frustration that Harry had refused to formally align with him. His efforts could certainly use him and the men he commanded.

Nonetheless, Arthur respected his decision, though it seemed that Myrddin had taken exception to him.

Still, Arthur could not fathom Myrddin attempting to kill anyone in such a way, let alone whilst Harry was attempting to rescue Guinevere.

What had the man been thinking?

The man certainly didn’t seem like a coward, nor someone who would jeopardise the wife of the king he’d chosen to serve.

Why would he do it?

Arthur didn’t know, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it now that he was aware of Harry’s version of events.

Had he been mistaken?

Somehow, Arthur didn’t think so.

Harry was experienced enough to know when someone was trying to kill him. He’d taken more than enough lives himself and had been on the receiving end of such attempts.

Once more, Arthur’s gaze drifted towards Myrddin, and his closest advisor glanced towards him.

“I will make this right, Harry. You…”

Arthur broke off and cursed under his breath when he realised that once more, the man had vanished whilst he’d been pondering what he’d learned.

“I will make it right.”

(Break)

“Oh, that is terrible news,” Morgana sighed. “I think Marcus was just about the only person harry spoke fondly of outside of the four of you.”

Godric nodded as he took a sip of his ale.

“I just cannot believe anyone would wish to murder him, let alone go through with it. His father is a powerful man on the Wizard’s Council.”

Morgana shook her and offered Harry a look of sympathy as he entered the cabin.

“What has happened?” he asked immediately.

“Nothing pressing,” Morgana assured him.

“Marcus Gamp was killed, Harry. I’m sorry.”

It took a moment for the news to sink in, and Harry released a deep breath as he took a seat by the fire.

“How?”

“Murdered.”

Harry frowned.

“Why?”

“I do not know, but he liked to gamble. Perhaps he owed too much to the wrong people, or they didn’t intend to kill him at all. It appears as though he fought back during whatever happened to him.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Harry mused aloud. “Why would you kill someone who owes you money?”

“Salazar and I thought the very same thing.”

Harry’s frown deepened, and he began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.

“Where is his body?”

“I expect it will have been returned to his father, along with his wand for a burial,” Godric explained.

Harry hummed as he gazed into the flames.

“No, something is wrong with this,” he murmured to himself. “Do you know Mr Gamp?”

“Well enough,” Godric replied.

“Good, I want you to arrange a meeting between us, and for it to be done quietly. I don’t like this Godric. Besides, even if it is to do with his gambling debts, I won’t let whoever did it go unpunished. Will you help me, Godric?”

“You don’t even need to ask, Harry,” Godric replied. “I will visit Mr Gamp now. I don’t expect he will be asleep. I will send for you if he is amenable. I expect he will want justice for his son.”

Harry nodded as Godric apparated away, leaving Morgana to comfort her husband.

“Are you okay?”

“In shock,” Harry answered. “I liked Gamp.”

“I know, you did” Morgana soothed, taking him by the hand.

(Break)

Arthur liked to think he had a handle on his temper, for the most part. He’d quickly learned that an angry king was scarcely a respected one, but as Myrddin continued to avoid any question he asked pertaining to Harry, his ire began to grow and Arthur slammed his fist on the table.

“He says that you attempted to kill him whilst he was rescuing my wife!” he spat. “Now, I want a damned explanation from you! Is what Harry said true?”

Arthur already suspected it was, but he wanted to hear it from Myrddin himself.

“It is, my king,” the man unashamedly. “Just know that I would never have let anything happen to Guinevere.”

Arthur’s nostrils flared.

“Why?” he growled. “Although he is not one of my subjects, nor will he ever be, Harry has done nothing but help us, more than anyone else I can think of. Why would you attempt to kill him?”

Myrddin sagged and appeared to be much older than Arthur had ever seen him.

“He is a dangerous man, Arthur, so much so that even the Wizard’s Council are watching him closely. I know he has helped you, and I am grateful for that, but he is exceedingly dangerous. You saw what he did to a dragon, and that is only some of what he is capable of. If he intends to destroy Guthrum’s dead, it will take some magic that should never be unleashed upon the world, I can assure you of that. Harry may have helped you thus far, but if he was to become an enemy, we would be hard-pressed to stop him.”

“Something he has no intention of!” Arthur huffed. “He has done all he can to keep us out of his affairs, and out of the lands belonging to his people. No, there is more to this, isn’t there? I want the truth, Myrddin!”

Myrddin shook his head tiredly.

“I fear you would not understand it, my king. It pertains to magic, to the stars, and to Fate. Much like your own future, Harry’s is tied to the stars, along with mine. I just need you to trust that I have your best interests at heart and would do nothing to harm you or your destiny.”

Arthur was not satisfied with the answer.

He was no longer a boy and would not be dismissed with such ease.

Before he could speak, however, Gawain burst into the command tent.

“Guthrum is on his way here!”

Arthur stood immediately.

“How long until he arrives?”

“A few days at best.”

Arthur nodded.

Lancelot and Cnut would not be back by then, so they would be down one thousand men should it come to a battle. Nonetheless, Arthur had Guthrum’s son.

Even if Lars served only to delay the confrontation until the rest of his forces could arrived, his purpose would be served.

“Prepare the men,” he instructed, taking his leave of the tent to ensure all was well within camp.

(Break)

Marcus had not died well.

The expression on his face spoke of suffering, and yet, as Harry had suspected, what had happened made little sense.

He’d identified half a dozen spells used on the man, and none should’ve been fatal. Perhaps combined they had resulted in his death, but Marcus had been young and healthy enough for his magic to combat the worst of the effects.

No, it made no sense.

“These spells were cast at him after he was already dead, or unable to fight back,” he murmured as he inspected the wounds. “I apologise, Mr Gamp, but was there much blood at the scene, or anything else that seemed out of place?”

Gamp wiped the tears from his cheeks and pondered the question.

“There was little blood, but couldn’t whoever have done this have cleared it away?”

Harry hummed as he nodded.

“It is possible, but it doesn’t explain what I am seeing at all. None of these spells should’ve killed him, even combined, I cannot fathom how, unless Marcus was weak or gravely ill.”

“He was neither!” Gamp protested.

Harry held up a hand to placate the grieving man.

“I do not believe he was. Marcus was murdered, but there is more to it than this. Someone did too good a job at clearing their presence from the scene. Do you have his wand?”

Gamp frowned but removed it from within his robes.

“Please, be careful with it. It is all I have left of my boy.”

Harry nodded and carefully took it from the man, humming as he inspected it.

Drawing his own, he tapped Marcus’s.

‘Priori Incantatem.’

He watched as the last half dozen spells Marcus had cast were revealed, and Harry swallowed deeply.

“He did not fight back,” he murmured. “He was attacked and killed before he could resist, but he was made to suffer for some time before death.”

Mr Gamp choked at the revelation, and Harry felt his anger bubble.

No, something was indeed very wrong with what had occurred, and though Harry could not quite piece together what had happened, he had no doubt he would.

“I will find who did this,” he promised.

“You will?” Gamp asked.

Harry nodded.

“I will, and I will ensure they’re punished for it.”

Gamp mustered his best look of gratitude, given his grief, and nodded.

“Before you do, Mr Potter, you should be aware that there a peers of mine on the Wizard’s Council who are watching you closely.”

“Watching me?”

“You’ve garnered quite the reputation for yourself, and there are those who believe you to have too much influence. Our kind and even the muggles speak your name. I urge you to tread carefully. They will come for you.”

Harry snorted and shook his head.

“Then I would speak with these men,” he declared. “When I have found your son’s killer, I will save them the trouble of looking for me. Can you arrange a meeting, Mr Gamp?”

“I am unsure how wise that would be, but yes, I can do that for you.”

“Good,” Harry declared, refusing to allow himself to be spied on or intimidated by a group of wizards who believed themselves an authority over others. “I will be in touch when I have news for you.”

Gamp nodded and Harry apparated away.

Already, his task would be difficult enough.

The trail would be cold, but he was determined to discover the truth of what had happened to Marcus. The man deserved to be given justice, and Harry was adamant he would get it.