Avalon - Chapter 86 - The Wizarding Prison

The Wizarding Prison

“Another baby?” Owain whispered in disbelief as his gaze shifted between Harry and Morgana.

“Another baby.”

“How?”

Morgana snorted uncharacteristically, and Salazar cursed under his breath.

“Don’t you have two of your own?”

Owain nodded before shaking his head, a wide smile cresting his lips.

“Another baby!” he said joyfully. “Well, when will the little bugger be here?”

“How is he worse than you?” Morgana groaned as Owain looked towards her belly.

He always did become rather excitable at the prospect of their being more children for those he knew well and cared for. It was something of an oddity, but Harry was pleased for his enthusiasm, and he doted on Taran just as much as he did his own.

“Congratulations,” Helga said warmly, placing a kiss on Morgana’s cheek and pulling Harry into a tight embrace. “I suppose I shall have to ensure I am ready at a moment’s notice soon enough.”

Morgana nodded.

Harry knew she would trust no other to bring their children into the world.

“Godric?” he questioned.

The man was staring dumbly between them before his gaze came to rest on Taran.

“What do you think, lad?” he cooed. “Are you ready for a little brother or sister?”

Taran giggled as the man tickled him.

“Of course he’s ready,” Salazar huffed. “This one will be a girl.”

“Then let us hope it doesn’t look like this git,” Owain muttered, nodding towards Harry. “You’d make for an ugly woman, Potter.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully before he snapped his wand into his hand.

Before Owain could respond, his tunic and trousers had been transformed into a dress, and his hair had lengthened considerably.

“I don’t think you’re one to talk of being an ugly woman,” Morgana said amusedly between her bouts of laughter. “The great Lord Peverell is now Lady Peverell.”

“Change me back!” Owain demanded.

Harry considered it for a moment before relenting, and Owain glared at him, his cheeks flushed in a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“You’ll pay for that,” he warned. “Mark my words, Potter, you won’t get away with it!”

“Oh, shut up,” Salazar sighed, placing a cup of ale in his hands. “This is a celebration.”

Owain reluctantly nodded as he took a seat at the table, another smile tugging at his lips.

“Another baby,” he whispered fondly.

For Harry, the news had yet to sink in, but the thought of becoming a father again was just as meaningful as it had been the first time, and yet, he could not ignore the dark cloud that hung over the joy he was experiencing.

Worry, concern, and doubt were already plaguing him, and until he saw the entirety of the gathered army that would allegedly be arriving at Camelot in the coming days, he would remain so.

“You do not trust them to keep their word,” Owain spoke, breaking into his thoughts.

Hary took a sip of his ale as he frowned.

“No, but I know I must, for now at least. I cannot forget that they are my enemies, Owain.”

“And you shouldn’t, but as you said yourself, we must come together to face them. If what we saw today is just a negligible part of their army, the goblins will not be easy to defeat, even with as many men as we are hoping for.”

Harry nodded grimly.

The war would indeed be quite something like nothing else he’d experienced.

He had every faith they could win, but the cost of doing so weighed heavily on his mind.

“What of Myrddin?”

Once more, Harry shook his head.

He didn’t know what to make of the man. He had seen both good and bad from him, and he certainly wouldn’t forget he’d taken advantage of a situation in a bid to kill Harry when he thought he’d both manage and get away with it.

Even so, he could not deny the man’s assistance had been invaluable during the last couple of attacks. He’d arrived when he’d not been obligated to and seemed to be sincere in his wish for them to work together.

Supporting Arthur’s notion that Harry should be placed in command of the fighting men had certainly been unexpected, but too much had happened for Harry to put so much trust in him.

Despite everything happening around them now, Myrddin undoubtedly wanted Harry dead, and the feeling was mutual.

Still, for the time being, Harry was willing to put their hostilities on hold whilst they dealt with the threat of the goblins. If they couldn’t, there would be no opportunity for the two of them to settle their differences.

“I’ll be watching him closely, Owain,” Harry sighed. “I won’t make the mistake of showing him my back again.”

“And then you will kill him?”

“I expect it will come to that. How can it not?”

Owain nodded and took a sip of his ale.

“How many men do you think we will have?”

Harry shook his head.

“I don’t know, but we have to hope that it is enough. That’s all that matters. It will be our strategy that wins this war, not our numbers.”

“So, you still intend on hunting them down?”

“I do,” Harry confirmed. “We cannot keep fighting as we have been. We must pin them down and force them to fight. I expect they won’t allow that to happen so easily. Before then, we will have to train any other that arrives the same way our own are. I don’t expect Flint and the others have bothered investing so much into it, not the way we have.”

“That means we won’t be ready for some time yet,” Owain pointed out.

“We won’t,” Harry conceded tiredly, “but if they are not trained, they will die, and our own will be at risk. I will not have incompetence, Owain.”

“Then we kick their arses until they are ready, and then we find where the little bastards have themselves holed up.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed, already planning how they would begin their campaign against the goblins.

It would not be easy finding them, and even more difficult to defeat them, but there was no hiding from it.

The vicious creatures had left him in no doubt that they would do whatever is necessary to take Britain for themselves, and for that, the humans would either have to surrender to a life of slavery, or die.

Harry would allow neither to come to pass, not whilst there was still blood flowing through his veins and air in his lungs.

No, if necessary, he would fight toa bitter end, but as he looked upon his once more pregnant wife, he felt himself emboldened.

The odds were indeed against them, but that was nothing new for Harry Potter.

He’d spent his life defying the odds, and this would prove to be no different than any other conflict he’d emerged victorious from.

His biggest concern was what the cost of such a victory would be.

He knew he needed to be calculated in his approach, implement his resources carefully, but ultimately be as ruthless as the enemy they faced.

Nodding to himself, he drained his cup of ale, his mind now awash with plans within plans in how he could combat the goblins.

“What are you thinking?” Owain pressed.

“Many things, Peverell,” Harry murmured. “Many unpleasant things.”

(Break)

He tapped the top of the stone table with one of his long claws as he mulled over all that had happened during the attack. Of course, Potter had arrived quickly to intervene but had once more done so with little help. That meant whatever army the humans were mustering was not ready yet; something Dark-Eye intended to use to his advantage.

Others had come to assist moments later, enough to fend off what had been thrown at them, but it had not been easily done.

He recognised Myrddin, Gryffindor and Slytherin, but none of the others.

Not that it mattered.

They were talented warriors, there was no denying it, but if that was the very best the humans had to offer, the war would be a short one.

No, they were of no consequence, but the same could not be said for Harry Potter.

He was as ruthless as any goblin Dark-Eye had encountered, many of whom he had personally killed as they’d resisted the changes put upon them, but Potter’s use of magic and how he wielded the goblin forged blade was indeed exceptional.

More troubling, however, was how he’d turned Blackfang’s dragon against them, killing their brother in the process.

He remembered the feeling of euphoria as he’d watched Potter plummet towards the ground, only for it to die in his throat as he’d used Blackfang to slow his descent.

Dark-Eye would not forget the sound of the goblin’s bones breaking as he thudded into the dirt below.

His lips pulled back over his teeth in ager, and his nostrils flared as he continued to focus on who was quickly becoming the most dangerous of foes.

Potter would prove to be quite the problem to overcome, but Dark-Eye remained confident that the humans would fall.

They must.

They were parasites that leached off all that was good in the world, taking all they could before moving on to fresher pastures. They had no respect for the world, and no respect for others that dwelled here.

No, the humans must be defeated, and it would be Dark-Eye that brought about their demise.

He would take Arthur’s throne for himself, would have the humans farm the lands and build great buildings, but beneath the heel of the goblin nation where they belonged.

“What now?” Grimjaw asked.

Dark-Eye chuckled as he continued to envision what the world would become when they humans inevitably surrendered.

“We proceed,” he answered. “We do so cautiously, but nothing changes. We knew this war would become long before we left these caves. The war is here now, and we must fight it.”

“And Potter?”

“Will die,” Dark-Eye assured his brethren. “I will personally relieve hm of his guts with my sword, hang him from the gates of Camelot, and watch as the buzzards feed on his flesh. They call him the Crow, but he will only become a feast for the very same birds he is likened to.”

“And if the humans unite?” Gutrot questioned. “They can amass a great army.”

“We have already seen the very best they have to offer,” Dark-Eye pointed out, “and I have found it to be lacking, for the most part. Fear not, our plan remains the same. Soon enough, we will leave this hovel for good, and feed upon the flesh of our fallen enemies. Those that remain will serve us. Now, leave me. I must decide what it is we will do next.”

“What are you thinking?”  Burgock asked.

“That perhaps it should not be the lives of our own we should be risking so willingly,” Dark-Eye answered. “We have a plethora of others to do our bidding, and they will be more than a match for them. Of course, we will be there, but goblin lives are precious, old friend. I will not see them wasted to those so inferior to us.”

Burgock nodded his agreement.

“We have much at our disposal,” he pointed out.

“Indeed,” Dark-Eye murmured thoughtfully, already planning the next attack to capitalise on the advantage the goblins held.

(Break)

It had been some years since he’d last visited this place, and though there was nothing particularly spectacular about it, it still managed to fill him with a sense of unease. Perhaps it was the magic that already seemed to exist here that made him feel such a way, or it might just be because Harry knew what it had once been.

It was cold here, unnaturally so, even if it was a rather small island only a matter of leagues off the coast of Britain.

The last time he’d been here had been with Ignotus Peverell, long before the man had become plagued by so many ailments in his final years, a time that had found itself amongst his most cherished of memories, despite the nature of what brought them so far from Godric’s Hollow.

“Could you not have picked a more pleasant place?” Godric asked as he and Salazar arrived. “It chills you to the bones.”

“It does,” Harry agreed, “and it will only become colder still.”

“Will it?”

Harry nodded as he handed the man a book, and Godric opened it up on the page that had been marked. Murmuring as he read, he frowned as he did so before handing it to Salazar, saying nothing until the other man had finished the passage.

“You think it is an apt approach.”

Harry nodded.

“As much as I do not like it, I’ve come to realise that it is necessary, for now, and for the future. It was one of the things that ended the last rebellion, and if I’m truthful, I would rather this was the last. I do not want to be fighting the same wars when I am an old man, and I do not want my children, or theirs, having to live as I have. Oh, I know others will come along, but a generation or two of peace should not be too much to ask for.”

Godric offered him an understanding smile.

“It shouldn’t be. Harry. But if history is anything to go by, it often is.”

“Indeed,” Salazar murmured. “What you intend to do, the Wizard’s Council will not like.”

“I’m not going to tell them, are you?”

“Of course not,” Salazar sighed.

“Then it will not become a problem until it does,” Harry said with a shrug as he drew the elder wand.

He had not pushed it to its limits yet, but what he intended to do would bring him close to that precipice, and as he gestured for Godric and Salazar to take several steps backwards, he began muttering the incantation under his breath, allowing the cold familiar magic to flow through the wand before guiding it.

It took several minutes of work on his part, though it would take even longer for what he was creating to become what he envisioned, but as Harry opened his eyes, he nodded satisfactorily to himself.

“Unbelievable,” Salazar whispered. “It is…”

“Terrifying?” Godric snorted. “I wouldn’t want to be locked up here.”

Harry chuckled darkly, revelling in what was a more pleasant cold for him than it would be any other save for Owain.

“This is just the beginning,” he said dismissively. “By the time I am finished here, it will be a true fortress. What you see before you is just a shell.”

Although the structure he had hewn from the rocks was indeed quite the impressive feat of magic, it was far from being what Harry intended. The protections would take many days of work, and all of the finishing touches would be ongoing, depending on the needs, but as he looked up at the imposing structure, he knew it would be worth the effort.

He couldn’t be certain when the prison had been built where he’d come from, but he knew now that Azkaban once more stood proudly, on the cusp of being ready to accept the first prisoners in what he expected to be a long, and unpleasant life for many who would inevitably find themselves here.

“I thought you were against taking prisoners in war,” Godric broke into his thoughts.

“Usually, I would be, but when dealing with the goblins, prisoners will be an important tool for negotiating. They may be willing to fight and die in battle, but no goblin would wish to endure the shame of becoming a prisoner of our kind. It shames them, and the families they hail from. For us, that is something we can use to our advantage, and we have so few of them, as things are. It could well prove to be the difference between winning and losing.”

Both men’s gazes roamed over the imposing structure before Salazar nodded.

“I think you may well be on to something, Harry,” he said thoughtfully.

“Good, then I suppose we should be getting started,” Harry replied, removing a silver dagger from within his robes and cutting into the palm of his hand.

Blood protections would be necessary to keep any unwanted people or creatures out, but this was merely the first of dozens that would be implemented.

Yes, it would take considerable effort on Harry’s part to make the prison viable, but he had no doubt it would be done, and that it would be quite the boon for magical Britain both now, and in the centuries to come.

(Break)

They needed to see it for themselves, see the devastation the goblins had wrought during each of the attacks Myrddin had witnessed and defended against to understand why the needed Harry Potter as they did.

There was no other that could lead them so effectively, and though he had needed to swallow his pride to admit it to himself, Myrddin had done so. Now it was time for the others to put their egos aside and accept the truth.

Without Potter, the war against the goblins and whatever other creatures they had coerced and employed might just be unwinnable.

He looked on in silence as each emerged from within the pensieve, a most ingenious device in which they could view his memories through rather clever and intricate magic imbued into the stone basin the silvery threads of his mind were placed.

Their expressions ranged from horror to nervousness, from understanding to abject fear.

Myrddin nodded, though there was no satisfaction in it.

“You see it,” he murmured, “but what you see is only just a small part of what it is we will face. That is why I supported Arthur when he suggested Potter to lead our forces. You saw for yourself that this is what he was born to do. Now, any grudge we bear must wait until the goblins are defeated, and even then, I have no doubt that he will become the most influential wizard, perhaps as far as word can spread of his deeds.”

“So, we wait until we kill him,” Flint mused aloud.

It was Gaunt who chuckled, the rather subdued bout of laughter developing into a guffaw.

“You are a damned fool if that is your trail of thought. Even now, I do not believe any of us can kill him, not in matters of war. You aw for yourself what he is capable of. If he is to die, it will have to be silently in the night, his throat slit whilst he sleeps, or his drink poisoned with something so potent that there is no time to respond to it. If he is to die, it will not be in battle.”

Flint looked towards Myrddin questioningly.

“Do you think you could defeat him?”

Myrddin frowned as he pondered it.

“Perhaps,” he answered.

“Then all is not lost,” Flint said dismissively, but for now, we need the bastard. We can deal with Potter when the goblins are no longer a threat and find an advantage. I will have the men sent under his command do just that, and I would urge you all to do the same. For now, Potter may be an ally but let us not pretend that when the goblins are either dead or they surrender, all will resume as it was before they emerged.”

With that, he stormed from the room, likely to begin the process of readying his fighting men, something that most other members of the council would’ve done by now.

“He is a pig-headed fool,” Gaunt grumbled before following suit.

When Myrddin was alone, he could only shake his head.

The stars had never misguided him, had put him on the path to leading Arthur to victory, to uniting Britain under a single banner, and to the Storm-bringer that had haunted his conscience for many years before he’d realised that the man in his visions and Harry Potter were one and the same.

Now, what was unfolding around him was contradictory of all he’d seen until recently.

Had the stars been wrong, or was this merely a fork in the road that needed to be navigated before he found himself on the same path he had been before?

Myrddin didn’t know, and once again, the stars themselves were not being forthcoming.

Of course, he would consult them again this very evening, but he doubted anything would be revealed to him. It never was until the time was right, and Myrddin Emrys expected they would remain steadfastly quiet until the goblins were vanquished.

What then?

It was a question that would continue to run through his mind, but one he could not answer, not until the stars guided him on his way again.

Frustrated with the realisation, he readied himself to return to Camelot to wait for the fighting men of each Lord and Lady to arrive, and though he knew he was still not welcome in Arthur’s court, there was nowhere else he should be.

He was much a part of this war as any other and had been one of few to stand at Potter’s side thus far when the odds were stacked impossibly against them.

Trust.

As uncertain as anything else was in the world, the one thing Myrddin was sure of was that he and Potter must trust one another in the battles to come.

Without it, all could fall apart at the fragile seams fate had sewn together. Without it, all men of Britain could very well be killed, all because Myrddin and Potter could not set their differences aside.

No, Myrddin would not have that become his legacy, and despite his misgivings of Harry Potter, the man would not wish for such a thing either.

(Break)

Having trained with a man of Lancelot’s calibre for several years, Arthur had felt confident that he could hold his own in a fight with any man, but Harry Potter had quickly declined to face him with a sword in his hand citing that just a single scratch from it would grant only the most painless death the king could imagine.

Instead, the two of them had opted to fight unarmed, and once more, Arthur had believed himself to be more than a match for most, but as another blow landed, snapping his head backwards, he found himself looking up at the dreary, dull, sky.

“Are you sure you weren’t using any magic?” he groaned as he was hoisted to his feet.

He could taste blood in his mouth, and it flowed freely from his nose, another cu on his brow, and he found he could only see out of one eye.

“I can assure you, I did not,” Harry chuckled.

Arthur could only shake his head, wincing as he felt the swelling drain away from his eyes.

After only a moment, he felt as though the fight had not happened at all, and he offered Harry an appreciative nod.

“I only made that mistake once,” Owain chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “He’s a fast little bugger, and he punches as hard as a horse can kick. Where did you even learn to fight like that?”

“I spent half of my childhood getting the shit kicked out of me,” Harry answered, “and then Godric came along and did it even more. I suppose it just made me better at it than most.”

“Well, remind me not to make that offer again,” Arthur snorted amusedly, turning towards the gate as one of the guards announced the arrival of the first group of men they were waiting for.

It was around seventy that entered, led by a burly bearded man, whose chestnut hair was liberally streaked with grey. He almost stalked towards where Arthur stood, his gaze flitting between those gathered.

“I’ve been instructed by Lady Meadows to report to Potter. That you?”

Arthur shook his head and pointed towards Harry.

“That would be him.”

The man grunted almost disapprovingly.

“My name is Travers. I’ll set my men up over there, shall I?” he asked, pointing to one of the areas sectioned off for such a purpose.

Harry merely nodded in response.

“Is it true you killed a dragon?” one of the men asked, his accent strong and much more northern than any other Arthur had heard before.

“It is,” Owain answered before Harry could, “among many other things.”

The northern man nodded approvingly.

“Aye, I would’ve liked to see it. Maybe next time.”

“Shut up, Moody,” Travers growled, “and get moving. You have a tent to set up.”

He stormed away, and Moody offered him a rather unpleasant gesture with one of his fingers, something no insubordinate should do.

“And up yours, you stupid old bastard,” he muttered.

“Moody?” Harry asked curiously.

“Aye, Robert Moody, good son to the old shit,” he introduced himself. “I was forced to marry his daughter to resolve a debt between my family and his.”

“Debt?”

“Well, more of an agreement,” Moody sighed. “My father killed his daughter’s intended, and I was given to replace him, so here I am.”

“You don’t seem so happy about it.”

Moody shrugged.

“Mildred is nice enough and easy on the eyes, but her father and mother are a pair of greedy shits. You’d best watch old Travers. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him, but he is loyal to Meadows. He’d have nothing without her.”

With a wave, he followed in the wake of the others, and Harry chuckled to himself.

“You know him?” Owain asked.

“No, but someone of his kin. They’re mad bastards, but you won’t find better men than them.”

Owain eyed him interestedly, but Harry didn’t comment further on Robert Moody. Instead, he shifted his attention to the gates once more as the next group to arrive entered.

“They look like a stuck-up bunch,” Owain muttered.

Harry nodded his agreement, and Arthur found no reason not to think the same.

Those that entered did so, each man standing proudly with his nose in the air and sporting an expression as though they smelled something rather unpleasant.

Perhaps they did.

For most of the morning, the courtyard of Camelot had hosted a great training session where men pitted themselves against one another, sometimes in groups or in single combat, in the spirit of healthy competition, of course.

Arthur had received the worst of the injuries, but mercifully, Harry had healed him well enough. Still, there was quite the stench of sweat and blood in the air, and it was something the new arrivals noticed.

“They’re Carruthers’ men,” Harry murmured, nodding towards the coat of arms each wore on their tunics.

In all, there was close to one hundred of them, and if they were as capable as they were haughty, they might just win the war by themselves.

Arthur snorted at the very thought, and as Harry pointed them in the direction of where the others were already setting up their camps, he could only shake his head.

“We will only have two, maybe three thousand at best.”

“Less than that,” Harry said darkly. “We will be fortunate to get two thousand to add to what we have. We will still be considerably outnumbered, and with whatever creatures the goblins have to contend with, it still might not be enough, not in open warfare, at least.”

“But you have ideas?”

“Many ideas, each as unpleasant as the last,” Harry answered, “but it will get much worse before it begins to improve. Until our men are trained, the goblins still have quite the advantage. That won’t change until we can take the fight to them. Truthfully, we will be much better off finding entrances to the tunnels, but with all other magicals, they can be in one part of the country into another in a matter of moments.”

“Well, that has given me a much-needed bolster to my confidence,” Arthur deadpanned.

Harry chuckled.

“Like I said, it will get worse before it gets better, but it will. You have my word that I will put an end to this madness. Things are happening already, and the goblins will come to regret what they are doing.”

Arthur nodded as Harry made his way towards the gate to greet the next group of arrivals.

He’d never been given any reason to doubt the man, and despite how bleak everything was quickly becoming, he would not start now. If Harry said he had plans, Arthur trusted him to come through for them as he always had, though the tone with which he had spoken was not a light one.

No, Arthur suspected that Harry’s plans would not be for faint at heart, and so long as the threat of the goblins was eradicated, the king could not bring himself to care.

He had heard detailed reports of what the vicious creatures had been doing up and down the country, and no matter what it took to halt their ambitions was fine by him.

“What do you think, Peverell?” he asked curiously.

Owain’s expression had darkened and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I think that the goblins are going to come to regret what they have done. Harry is not playing games, and they will see a side to him they will wish they had not provoked. I have fought with him enough times to have learned how ruthless he can be, and the mistake the goblins have made will prove to be their downfall when he catches up with them.”

To most, his words would be rather troubling, but Arthur found a semblance of comfort in them, and as Harry approached having greeted another three-scores of men, he felt his confidence grow simply by how the man carried himself.

“You’re coming with me,” he said to Owain.

“Ah, anywhere nice?”

“No,” Harry chuckled humourlessly. “Where we are going will soon become one of the most unpleasant places you can imagine.”

“Sounds fun,” Owain snorted, and Arthur could only stare questioningly at the spot the two men had occupied as they vanished in a plume of blackened smoke.

(Break)

His gaze roamed over the roughly sketched map before him, briefly coming to rest on each place of consideration until he found himself focused on one in particular.

Tapping it with a long, sharp nail, he bared his teeth in anticipation.

“This was once the jewel of Britain when Alfred was king, a special place for the godly to gather. We will take it for ourselves and burn it to the ground before we allow it to fall back into their hands.”

“Will they come for it?” Gutrot asked. “Will the wizards care enough to fight for it?”

Dark-Eye nodded.

“They will,” he assured his brothers, even if only out of principal, they must.”

“Then let us take it,” Blackfang urged. “It remains empty, and we will have time to reinforce it long before they arrive.”

Dark-Eye frowned thoughtfully before nodding.

He saw no reason to delay the inevitable, and it would be much better served in the hands of the goblins than allowing the humans to take it for themselves and takin a foothold in Wessex.

Oh, they would try to claim it back, but that was exactly what he was relying upon.

The very thought brough a grin to his lips, and he clapped his hands together, summoning those he wished to take along.

“Master Dark-Eye called for us,” one of the odd little elves addressed him as dozens of his kind appeared in the stone chamber.

Dark-Eye nodded.

“We have need of you to transport those waiting in the other chamber. Do so immediately.”

With a shallow bow, the elf vanished, and Dark-Eye gestured for the others to prepare themselves for their departure.

He was expecting no resistance from this particular venture, but he knew time was of the essence. It was of paramount importance that the protections were put into place immediately, and to that end, he removed one of the boxes he kept within his pocket.

Placing it onto the stone table, he opened it, and inside was thirteen crystals, each a different colour, and each serving a different purpose, the first as important as the last.

Removing one that was clear, he closed his eyes and revelled in the magic that coursed through his veins.

Where the stones had come from was knowledge long lost to the annals of time, but the leader of the goblins had received them upon beginning their tenure.

Why they had not been put to better use, Dark-Eye didn’t know, but they would now, and the humans would realise the power that the Goblin Nation wielded.

Once more, he smiled to himself, anticipating the arrival of the humans to attempt to claim back what the goblins had taken.

(Break)

Owain nodded appreciatively as he took in the structure towering above them. The island itself was unpleasant enough from the icy wind that tore across it, but the addition of the colder, yet familiar magic permeating it made for quite the unpleasant experience.

“A prison?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“Where I came from, the magicals fighting against the rebels realised that taking prisoners was an invaluable asset. The goblins will not do so. They only wish for us to be dead, or on our knees before them. There is no use for prisoners, in their eyes.”

Owain hummed thoughtfully.

“I think you might well be right,” he murmured, “but they will not come quietly, and we do not have the men to leave here to watch over them.”

“We won’t need them,” Harry assured him. “They will be unable to escape, and it will be close to impossible for them to be rescued, even if the goblins manage to find this place at all,”

“You’re going to make it unplottable.”

“I already have, and more and more protections will be added. That is why I need your help.”

“My help?”

Harry nodded darkly.

“If the worst was to happen, someone else needs to be able to access tis place. There is no one else I would trust more than you. Don’t worry, you don’t need to do much, just accept my request, and I will do the necessary work.”

Owain tutted.

“You’re not going to die, Harry.”

“I hope not, but it is better to be prepared for all eventualities.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Owain sighed. “Of course, I will help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you,” Harry said appreciatively, frowning as an ethereal fox appeared in front of them.

“Harry, the goblins have taken Winchester. It seems as though they intend on using it as a stronghold of sorts. What shall we do?”

Harry frowned and placed a hand on Owain’s arm as he made to draw his sword.

“No, that is exactly what they want us to do.”

“They do?”

Harry nodded.

“They are expecting us to arrive in force to take it from them, which means they have a plan to ensure that we can’t do that, and that we will lose men whilst trying.”

“So, we just let them have it?”

Harry shook his head as he frowned thoughtfully.

“No, we can’t allow that, but this is where we must be clever. Do you have your cloak with you?”

“Always.”

“Then why don’t the two of us go and fetch our very first prisoners to keep here?” Harry suggested amusedly.