Avalon - Chapter 95 - Cunning and Guile

Cunning and Guile

He eyed the bubbling contents of the cauldron warily; the greyish sludge and odd smell wafting from it filling him with little faith.

“What is that?” Owain asked cautiously.

The grin he received in response told him that he would not enjoy whatever it was, despite Harry’s next words.

“You’ll love this,” he said a little too happily. “For once in your life, you get to know what it is to experience greatness.”

Owain narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Is that some kind of elixir that does that?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Harry said dismissively as he added another ingredient to the cauldron before giving it a final stir and filling a vial with the mud-like brew. “When I add one of my hairs, it will turn you into me, well, physically.”

Owain grimaced at the thought.

“All of me?” he pressed. “It’s not permanent, is it?”

Harry laughed amusedly as he shook his head.

“No, it will last for around an hour, which should be enough to fool the goblins into believing I am where they wish for me to be.”

Owain shook his head as the vial was placed into his hand.

“Why can’t Hook do it?”

“Because you are the person who can make it believable for long enough with your magic.”

“Bloody hell,” Owain groaned. “I don’t want to be you, not even for a minute.”

“Why not?”

“You attract trouble the same way shit attracts flies.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dryly, removing one of his hairs and adding it to the brew before placing a lid on it.

The potion went from a muddy brown to a bright green, and Owain watched it for a moment.

“I don’t like this,” he declared.

“No, but it will work. I’m certain of it, and we need them to think I am taking their bait.”

Owain deflated as he nodded, conceding defeat in this matter.

“Fine,” he agreed, “but I never want see this again.”

“You won’t,” Harry promised. “It is one of many that Morgana and I have agreed should be kept to ourselves. We would not want this falling into the hand of our enemies.”

“What others are there?”

Harry said nothing but offered another knowing smirk.

He’d always been quite terrible in his own way but knowing that he had considerable knowledge that no other did at his disposal made him more so, and Owain was grateful that he and Harry were as good as brothers.

Any enemy of his should certainly beware; something the goblins would seemingly learn soon enough for themselves.

“If we live through this, I’ll bloody well kill Harry!” Owain declared as he and his group banished a large stone that had been detached from a building towards one of the giants they were fighting.

It connected directly with the behemoths chest, sending it crashing to the ground, where it was set upon quickly.

Conjured ropes and chains bound it, and with another exertion between them, he and Hook levitated the same stone and dropped it on the giant’s head.

It immediately fell still as the loud cracking filled the air over the din of battle.

Its skull had been crushed, killing it, but there were still three others to contend with, along with the trolls, ogres, and what he knew to be a token force of goblins to keep up appearances.

Despite what they were facing proving to be quite the daunting task to overcome, the training he and Harry had put them men through was paying dividends.

The ranks remained tightly formed, making it difficult for anything to penetrate their defences as they equally went on the attack.

The trolls were not bright enough to combat their strategy, and there wasn’t enough ogres or goblins to overwhelm them, even with their superior numbers.

Still, Owain was taking nothing for granted, though he was pleased that the foul-tasting potion had worn off.

It had been an awkward experience being Harry.

They were around the same height, but the other man was leaner than him, taking some getting used to when it came to fighting.

“Watch out!” Hook warned as a band of goblins charged towards them.

With their giant having been rendered useless, they’d come together in a bid to scatter the ranks, only to crash into a solid shield wall the wizards conjured collectively.

Owain smiled with pride.

Although these were men who would have once been at odds with one another, they had truly come a long way these past moons and fought as one; an essential development in the face of what it was they found themselves up against.

The goblins did indeed continue to have an advantage when it came to numbers and creatures they could call upon, but the humans were better equipped for battle, especially when they managed to work cohesively as they did here.

Tonight was the first true test they’d confronted.

In London, their ranks and formations counted for little. It had been more of a desperate melee they’d needed to survive, but here, out in the open, they could implement the strategies Owain and Harry had devised.

Still, the fighting wasn’t over yet.

With three giants still remaining, a horde of goblins, and the trolls and ogres determined to continue to engage them, it would continue on earnest until one side was forced to admit defeat.

That would not be Owain.

No, Harry needed him to keep the forces occupied, and as he steeled his resolve to do so, he idly wondered how the man was faring in his own efforts, along with the others that had been given their own tasks.

(Break)

“Are you sure about this plan, Harry?” Salazar asked. “It is incredibly risky.”

“I am, and I know,” Harry sighed, “but they will notice if there are too many of us lying in wait. At the very least, we have the element of surprise, and I have every faith in both of you that you can manage this.”

Salazar looked towards Godric who nodded resolutely.

Although he did not like the plan, he could not deny the brilliance of it. Quite the blow would be struck against the goblins if they were successful, or they would all die.

Salazar snorted at the thought.

“And I am to be a part of this?” Myrddin asked, seemingly surprised that he had been invited to the small gathering.

“You are perhaps the most capable wizard I know,” Harry admitted, “and as you pointed out, for now we are allies. I would be foolish to exclude you when you can use your talents to turn the tide of the war.”

Myrddin nodded thoughtfully.

“I will do what I can,” he assured them. “I grow weary of this war, and the longer it lasts, the more it will benefit the goblins. What would you have me do?”

He could feel the protections surrounding the property being peeled away, and the more they did so, the more Salazar anticipated the imminent arrival of the unsuspecting goblins.

He may not excel in the use of a sword like Godric and Harry, but what he lacked in martial prowess he more than made up for with cunning and guile.

It brought a smirk to his lips knowing what was waiting for the goblins, and as he felt the final vestige of protections around the property give way, he struck without hesitation.

The shocked goblins screamed in a mixture of surprise and agony as the darts he fired towards them stuck fast, and in only a matter of seconds, most fell victim to the venom the tips had been dipped in.

Not even such creatures were immune to the venom of the basilisk, after all.

Those that did not fall attempted to flee, only around six in all who had been unfortunate enough to survive the quick though agonising death that befell their brethren.

Their efforts, however, were in vain.

As Salazar unleashed a plethora of his most unpleasant of curses towards them, they fell into his second trap, and once more, the screams of his enemies filled the air.

Soon enough, they fell silent, and as he leisurely approached the pit they had fallen into, he merely nodded at the sight of the lifeless bodies below, mostly buried by the variety of serpents crawling over them, each goblin sporting a visage of sheer suffering.

“I thank you for your assistance,” he hissed appreciatively. “There are many for you to feed on out here.”

With a wave of his wand, a ramp formed in the pit, and the majority of serpents that were not already feeding accepted his invitation to feast upon the other.

Salazar watched the grotesque spectacle for several moments before nodding satisfactorily to himself, pleased he had not fallen foul of his own plan, and that their enemies had become fewer in only a passing moment.

(Break)

“You know I am not as fast or strong as I used to be,” Godric pointed out.

He had pulled Harry aside after he’d spoken to them collectively to voice his concerns, and the young man merely offered him an encouraging smile.

“You don’t need to be,” he chided lightly. “I’m not telling you to run in swinging your sword. You are perhaps the best practitioner of transfiguration I know, and I think that will serve you better than that this time,” he added, nodding towards the blade Godric kept at his side. “You have travelled much of the world. What have you seen that could be of use to you?”

Godric nodded thoughtfully as he devised a plan of his own, a smile tugging at his lips as one came to mind.

The goblins wouldn’t like it, and though it was a little crude for his own liking, it was about time they reaped what they had sown for themselves.

“Calm,” he urged, his grip tightening around his wand.

Harry had assured him there would be no more than fifty goblins here; too many for him to fight off with only his blade, but still a significant test with his wand in hand.

Nonetheless, he was more than prepared for the challenge, and as he spotted the first of the creatures approaching the house he was overseeing, he set his plan into motion.

Before they knew it, the goblins were surrounded, and the next moments were filled with a growling and snarling as they were torn apart, limb from limb.

The stragglers attempted to flee, but Godric quickly dispatched them, and those that remained alive after the initial onslaught quickly bled out with curses and pleas for mercy on their lips.

Godric walked amongst them; his expression grim as his hand came to rest on the sigil of his house before he patted the bloodied maw of one of the dozens of lions he had unleashed upon the goblins.

They truly were incredible creatures, and they had represented his own courage and majesty better than he could have himself this night.

“You’re a good lad,” he praised, running his finger through the mane of one the large males. “A very good lad.”

(Break)

War was not in his nature.

Myrddin had never been particularly inclined towards violence, but living in the harsh world he did meant that it was sometimes inevitable.

He much preferred to use his words to solve the problems that confronted him and allow the more barbarous of his peers solve their own with their sword or wand.

Even so, Myrddin was not naïve. Violence was as much a part of being a man as lying with a woman or satiating the curiosity of all around them.

Still, he abhorred unnecessary violence, and most of it was just that.

Not that he was foolish enough to believe that some wasn’t.

His thoughts drifted to the most conflicting man he’d had both the pleasure and displeasure of knowing, and once more, Myrddin Emrys found himself stumped.

“It is one thing to kill in battle, Harry, but to ambush them… I do not think I can do such a thing.”

“Then don’t kill them if it is something you cannot do,” Potter said with a shrug. “You’re a gifted man. Apprehend them if you can, just don’t let them get to whomever you find yourself guarding.”

“So you can imprison them?”

“I would prefer that than allowing them to return to Dark-Eye where they will kill more good men.”

Despite his best efforts, he was unable to locate where Potter had built his prison, and Myrddin wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

The man truly was quite the enigma, likeable and someone he had come to respect, but someone whose morals were so distinctly different, often to the point of contention.

Myrddin shook his head as he sensed the changes washing over him, and he idly wondered if his plan would work.

Theoretically, it would, and he had two others in place just in case the first proved to be ineffective.

With his grip tightening on his wand, he braced himself for the goblins to breech the defences, and as they did, he gave it a wave.

The light that was emitted was blinding, and the goblins groaned in protest.

Myrddin, however, was not idle, and with another wave of his wand, the grass beneath their feet shot upwards from the ground, entangling the group, though some had the wherewithal to resist.

Around half a dozen managed to free themselves completely whilst Myrddin fought to prevent them all from escaping, and he quickly found himself in a rather unfavourable position.

The goblins were furious at his intervention, and charged towards him, swinging the vicious blades.

Myrddin banished them with a shoving motion of his hand, presenting him with an opportunity to begin securing the, once more.

He managed to snag three of those that had liberated themselves before he was forced to step out of the path of an axe that had been hurled towards him.

Even so, he instinctively used the wand to freeze it in mid-air and sent it back towards one of the attackers. It embedded itself in the goblin’s chest with a dull thud, and he gurgled as he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

The final two did not take kindly to the death of their companion and charged him once more.

With a flick of his wand, he diverted one of the swords away from him, and the next left the goblin unconscious. He would wake feeling rather unwell and disorientated for a few days, but he’d live.

Whilst Myrddin had been occupied with him, however, the second managed to land a glancing blow, cutting deeply into his leg, so deep, that the blade was embedded into Myrddin’s bone.

Myrddin winced in pain and barely managed to stumble out of the way of the thrust with a crude dagger and landed a counter blow with his fist.

The goblin shook it off easily enough, but not blasting curse that removed the arm clinging onto the weapon.

It screamed in agony as a gout of blood erupted from the wound and fell to the ground whimpering whilst Myrddin shifted his attention to his own.

For such a wound, it bled little, but it hurt, and the blade was stuck fast. He would need assistance with it, but he was in no danger of perishing so soon.

With a shake of his head, Myrddin began preparing to take his leave with his prisoners that would soon be handed over to Potter. Camelot could not hold them, after all.

He chose not to ponder what would become of them.

One could never be sure where Potter was concerned, but if he truly intended on using them as part of a negotiation to end the war, he could not allow them to suffer greatly, could he?

Myrddin wasn’t sure and had learned not to doubt or make any assumptions when it came to the man.

Potter was as unpredictable as any, but he had never been cruel for the sake of cruelty. No, his morals were often skewed, but for the most part, from what Myrddin had seen, he was often a good and selfless man; a far cry from the Storm-bringer he’d envisioned.

He shook his head once more.

Such thoughts only served to confuse him, and question all he’d been shown when he’d consulted the stars; something Myrddin never believed he would do, yet, here he was.

(Break)

“Kill him!”

Harry wasted no time with responding in kind, and he pulled his sword from the ground as he brought his wand to bear, unleashing the full force of the cold magic that filled his veins.

The preparations he’d made upon his arrival proved to be time well spent, and as the dozen or so shadow figures sprung from the ground and engaged the goblins, his own focus shifted on the wary king with mismatched eyes.

He knew that Dark-Eye was wondering how it was he’d known they’d be here, and Harry snorted at the thought that the information had come courtesy of the magic his new-born daughter possessed.

He did not doubt that Morgana was thinking the very same thing as him, and though they had not discussed it, neither were foolish to believe that his wife had suddenly become a seer or had a particularly special relationship with the stars similar to Rowena.

No, Seren had been the cause of the dreams come visions Morgana had experienced, and even the reason Harry found himself here and now, ensuring the goblins could gain no extra traction during the war.

It wasn’t as though he would be divulging such information to his enemies, and it was rather amusing to see Dark-Eye and his forces stumbling under his efforts.

Nonetheless, he was deeply aware that he was outnumbered, and though his magic was somewhat balancing the scales, it would not last, not with Dark-Eye here.

As such, it came as no surprise when a moment later the king of the goblins brandished one of his crystals, one glowing with a purple hue, and he felt the magic beginning to fade, though not before most of the goblins he’d brought along had been slaughtered by the conjurations.

Even so, Harry now found himself out numbered around ten to one, and with Dark-Eye leading them, he knew he had his work cut out for him.

Still, he remained undeterred as he twirled his blade in his right hand and wielded his wand in the left.

Dark-Eye glared at him, his gaze shifting towards the former with utter contempt.

It angered the goblin that Harry wielded a blade forged by his own kind, and undoubtedly believed he had a claim to it. If he wished to take it for himself, however, he would need to pry it out of Harr’s cold, dead hands.

A slight smirk tugged at his lips at the thought of the creature trying to do just that, and without hesitation, he charged forwards, meeting the threat before him knowing it would not serve him well to allow himself to be forced on the defensive.

He turned his shoulder just enough to avoid an upwards thrust of a spear before driving his knee into the jaw of his attacker, turning again to move out of the path of a cleaving blow from an axe.

A bludgeoning curse in response sent the second goblin into a nearby tree, but Harry did not have time to wonder what happened to the creature.

He was immediately set upon by another duo, one wielding a wand and the other a sword, and he was forced to block a sickly green spell that was hurled towards him whilst bringing his own blade across his body to block the other goblin’s offering.

The force sent the attacker backwards, and Harry quickly diverted the next spell cast towards the stumbling foe. The goblin screamed in agony as he relinquished his sword, collapsing to the ground with blood pouring from his ears.

It was quite the nasty curse to fall victim to, but once more, Harry was not granted even a second of respite to ponder it.

Having evidently seen enough of his remaining group being killed, Dark-Eye joined the fray, and Harry found himself pushed on the backfoot when faced with the king of the goblins and six of his companions.

He blocked each incoming attack with everything he had, both spells and strikes with weapons, finding little opportunity to mount any offense.

Fortunately for him, one of the goblins became just a little too overzealous, and all but impaled himself on Harry’s waiting blade, though him falling pulled the sword from his hand.

Nonetheless, he remained undeterred and was able to focus solely on using magic.

Whipping his wand in an upwards motion, a pair of cleaving curses burst from the end, and although neither reduced the numbers of his enemies further, they served to buy him just enough time to fight back a little more effectively.

The next goblin fell as Harry stepped towards him, and the creature was unable to block the severing curse that tore through his guts.

He collapsed forwards with a pained scream, and Harry grimaced as one of the blades of the others sliced into his arm.

Being wounded was nothing new, however, and he took advantage of the flowing blood, catching some on the tip of his wand and flicking it towards a charging pair.

It clung to their armour and began eating through it, eliciting shrieks from both when it reached their skin.

Both dropped their weapons, and any notion that they might continue fighting as their flesh blackened faded; the magic draining them of their lives.

The goblins remained steadfast in their efforts to kill him, and even before they had perished, Harry once more found himself dodging and weaving away from further attacks and deflecting magic when it was sent his way.

Somewhere in the melee, he’d been cut again, and he felt the warm blood running down his cheek; something that only served to anger him.

With a guttural roar, he fought back, not caring for the weapons and magic being wielded against him. The violence became something of a blur to him as he gave into the bloodlust, summoning his blade from the guts of the one that it been impaled in.

It was the goblins’ turn to become more cautious, more calculated in the heat of the moment, but Harry granted them no reprieve, just as they hadn’t with him.

He slashed, thrusted and parried with the sword whilst he cast with his wand, feeling no jubilation as two more fell to his efforts, leaving him facing off with Dark-Eye and only three others.

The king of the goblins offered him a respectful nod, but his eyes were narrowed in utter loathing, akin to the same expression Harry had seen adorning the features of Tom Riddle.

Even so, Dark-Eye was not him, not so egotistical, which meant he was not beyond retreating from a fight when it suited him, much like now.

The three others continued to fight, allowing their leader to begin withdrawing, but Harry would not let him get away so easily. Retrieving his dagger, he hurled it at the goblin, his own eyes narrow as it buried itself into his shoulder.

Dark-Eye did not wince or grimace as it did so. Instead, he laughed as he removed it, eyeing the blade curiously before placing it into his pocket and continuing on his way, seemingly unperturbed by what had happened, leaving Harry to dispatch the last three of his loyal warriors.

It took little time to do so, but as Harry removed his blade from the skull of the last, Dark-Eye was long gone, and he cursed under his breath

He would much rather be rid of the goblin that was the cause of all the problems within Britain, but life had never been so convenient for him.

Ensuring he was indeed alone; he took a moment to check his wounds and shook his head.

Another two scars to add to the collection, it seemed, but the night had not been a complete loss.

He had gotten a better measure of Dark-Eye, the way he fought, and how he operated.

Still, he was no closer to knowing how the goblins discovered the various locations they had targeted or how they had gained entry, but a quick search of the dead and the area led him to a rather peculiar, ambient magic in the air.

Following it, he came upon the purple crystal Dark-Eye had used to negate his magic.

It was split almost all the way through the middle, and as it was with the yellow crystal the magic was not familiar to him. With a sigh, Harry checked it to ensure it was safe before placing it in his pocket.

Perhaps he could discern something from it if he was given more time, but for now, he had other things to attend to. Sending a message to Myrddin, Salazar, and Godric, he vanished from the home belonging to Lord Rosier to ensure that all had gone as well as it could have with Owain and his group.

(Break)

He breathed a sigh of relief as the fighting began to dwindle, and his thoughts wandered to how the efforts of the others had transpired across the length and breadth of Britain.

Owain was not ashamed to admit that he’d been a little put out that Harry had chosen the Salazar, Godric, and Myrddin to be where they would be needed, but he understood.

He was equally needed here, and it wasn’t as though the goblins had made it easy, even if all of this was to serve as a distraction.

The streets littered with the corpses of both man and creature told of quite the bloody conflict, and as a screaming goblin hurtled towards him, Owain was quickly reminded that it wasn’t over just yet.

He parried the tired blow of the creature, striking out with his own as his foe was knocked off balance.

The sound of his sword cutting through the armour was not one he relished, but surviving yet another attack brought him the same relief he’d felt upon realising the night was theirs and that he was glad he was not Harry.

He chuckled at the thought.

When he’d been disguised as his friend, the onslaught against him had been relentless.

Goblin upon goblin had taken it upon themselves to try to kill with all the vigour one would expect from the tenacious creatures, and Owain had found himself inundated with attackers.

Fortunately, the effects of the potion had worn off quickly enough, but he could not deny that his brief stint as Harry Potter on the battlefield was not an enviable one.

How the man had fought as much as he had and yet lived with something of a miracle in itself, and a true testament of the calibre of man Harry was.

“The rest are fleeing,” Hook said breathlessly as he approached.

He was covered in blood, most of it not his own, and it made for quite the terrifying sight.

Hook was not the biggest man Owain had met, but he had a dangerous presence about him, and his hardened eyes spoke of the many battles he had fought in.

It was odd to see him in such a way.

Owain remembered when the pair of them had been young, naïve, and rather carefree.

Those days were far behind them now, both having come close to dying on more than occasion, with tonight being just another one of those experiences.

He nodded as he squeezed the man’s shoulder.

“Aye, any word from Harry?”

“Do you miss me that much when I’m not around?”

Owain turned sharply, pointing his sword towards where the voice had sounded from.

“One day, you’ll sneak up on me at the wrong time,” he huffed, though he pulled his friend into a tight embrace, noting the deep gash across his cheek. “Difficult night?” he asked with a grin.

“Up yours,” Harry grumbled. “How did we fare?”

Owain gestured to the devastation around them.

“Not as bad as it could’ve been,” he said tiredly. “We got the better of them. You?”

Harry shrugged in response.

“Dark-Eye retreated when he knew he wouldn’t get what he came for, but we got to know each other a little better.”

“Ah, how cosy,” Owain quipped. “We’re here fighting and dying, and you’re having a cuddle and a chat with the enemy.”

He grimaced as Harry thumped him on the shoulder.

“Can you handle this? I need to meet with the others.”

Owain nodded reassuringly.

“Aye, we will manage here. We’ll get it cleaned up and I’ll get the man back. Have you had any word from the others?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, we agreed we would only do so if it was an emergency.”

“So, all went well?”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t have, but I will see for myself soon enough.”

With that, he vanished in a cloud of black smoke, and Owain shifted his attention back to the task at hand. It would take some time to attend to the wounded, to clean up, and then return home.

If he was lucky, he might just make it back for breakfast.

“Come on, we’re not done here yet,” he sighed, pulling the resting Lancelot to his feet. “This isn’t the time to scratch your arse.”

Lancelot snorted humourlessly as he followed.

The man had fought well for a muggle given the circumstances, but the fighting was over for now, at least until they knew what was to come next.

Owain’s focus was on little more than leaving this place at the earliest possible moment and spending some time with his wife and children before he once again found himself plunged into battle.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered.

(Break)

He grimaced as he reached for the dagger that had been buried in his shoulder, frowning as he inspected it for the dozenth time since he’d returned from London.

It was a mundane thing, well-made for the most part for a human offering, but contained no magic. Dark-Eye had investigated it thoroughly for any traces, but it was just a dagger.

Why Potter carried such a thing, he didn’t know, but it belonged to him now.

Perhaps he would plunge it into the man’s heart to end the rivalry between the two of them. He wasn’t sure, but for now, he knew that he needed to consider what he would do next.

Dark-Eye had waited until the sun had risen for his warriors to return, and none had, which meant that Potter had known exactly where they would be before they’d even arrived.

Only a few dozen stragglers had returned from the north where they had battled with Owain Peverell and his forces, and again, it was the goblins and the creatures that had taken the brunt of the casualties.

In all, it had been nothing short of a disastrous outing, one a defeat Dark-Eye could do without.

“I did tell you.”

He shuddered as the voice almost whispered directly into his ear.

“Harry Potter is no mere man. He is a warrior sent by Death himself, a being my own ancestor failed to avoid.”

Dark-Eye snorted derisively.

“We goblins do not believe in your made-up apparitions. The only gods are those of the earth, of the wind, and water, and of the trees. The see and hear all, not some damned figure that claims your souls.”

“Then perhaps you should rethink what it is you believe in, Goblin King,” the hoarse voice whispered. “I have seen Death for myself, felt the coldness of my skin, a balm against the heat that almost claimed, but it clings to me still. You can feel it, can’t you? That coldness whenever Potter is nearby. Even now you feel it watching you as a serpent would a mouse, and you still cannot admit it even to yourself. Potter is his chosen, nd it is noman you face, Goblin King. Perhaps he once was, but no, now, the stars have plans for him, plans that go beyond this very place.”

“What plans?” Dark-Eye asked.

“I cannot say, but he is not of here, nor of where he is to be. He is Death, and Death is him in a way I cannot comprehend.”

“So, he cannot die?”

The voice laughed almost amusedly.

“Oh no, he can be killed. He may be Death’s chosen and beyond what most men could ever dream of being, but for now, he is still a man. He bleeds and he breathes, and those that do can be ended.”

“Then I shall end him,” Dark-Eye declared.

“Perhaps you will,” the voice replied, fading away once more.

Dark-Eye was grateful for it.

The woman he had made the acquaintance of was eerier than any other he’d, ad though she had some pearls of wisdom to offer him, she rarely brought him comfort.

Little did anymore.

(Break)

“That looks as though it hurts,” Godric commented, nodding towards the limping Myrddin.

The other man waved him off, though he winced as he took a seat.

“Maybe I’m not as used to being slashed with a sword as you.”

“Not many are,” Salazar commented. “He doesn’t look much better.”

Harry had entered the room, the wound on his cheek still weeping, the sleeve on his left arm was soaked in blood and torn.

“Well, real men come back wounded,” he grunted. “You two look as though you went for a leisurely stroll.”

“Bugger you, Potter,” Godric grumbled. “We fought just as hard, just smarter. We have experience on our sides.”

Salazar nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, probably too much,” Harry quipped. “You old bastards have one foot in the grave already.”

“He’s gotten quite brave over the years,” Salazar remarked. “I wish he was young again so I could see him getting his arse kicked all over the castle by you.”

“Those were some good days,” Godric said amusedly.

“Those days are long gone, you old sod. I’ll kick your arse around the castle now. Anyway, how did it go?”

“As expected,” Salazar answered with a shrug. “They were not expecting me, and they fell into the trap.”

“And mine,” Godric added.

“Not so well,” Myrddin sighed as Harry shifted his attention towards him. “I captured them all, but I did not do so unscathed.”

Harry nodded as he inspected the wounds before reaching into his robes and removing quite the collection of potions.

“The leg wound is deep into the bone, but nothing major was hit. You’re lucky. This will fix the damage, and this will make sure it does not become infected.”

Myrddin nodded as he accepted the potions before drinking them both, grimacing as he did so.

“That tastes awful.”

“Maybe next time you’ll be a little more careful to avoid it.”

“Next time,” Myrddin murmured. “I hope there isn’t one.”

“I am working on it,” Harry assured him. “This was a great victory for us, and I intend on taking advantage of it.”

“How?” Salazar asked curiously.

Harry merely grinned in response.

“I have a plan,” he declared. “I believe I have found what I need. We just have to lure Dark-Eye and his forces out of London. It will make what I need to do all the easier, and I need something from you, Salazar.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing too trivial,” Harry said, a little too amusedly for his liking.

Salazar could only frown in response, wondering what it was Harry would do next.

The man could be as reckless as Godric, but this time, it seemed as though he was using just a little of the cunning Salazar had tried to instil within him.