Albus Dumbledore sat in an office, surrounded by modern decor and carpeted floors. He was nervously sucking on a lemon drop, not quite sure what he was doing here in the first place. Anyone who saw Dumbledore at that moment would think that he was calm, but inside the man's mind was an inner turmoil, hiding behind occlumency shields that even Severus Snape would be hard pressed to break into.
It had started as a normal summer day, well, as normal as the summer can be when the pressure of war had started to creep up on the Headmaster's shoulders. He knew that there was going to be a battle years ago, a battle between the Dark and Light side, when little Harry Potter was left on his muggle relatives doorstep with nothing but a blanket and a scar complete with memories that Dumbledore had hoped would fade as the boy aged. But he had hoped with all his might that there would be no war. That Voldemort would stay dead.
But life was fickle and Voldemort had returned the previous month, taking an innocent life and scarring a young boy. Dumbledore knew that there was much to do, with the Order of the Phoenix in Grimmauld Place waiting to give their reports and receive their orders, and updating the wards that surrounded Hogwart, and hiding his lemon drop stash from Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey so that she wouldn't throw it away… something about old age and illnesses. Albus Dumbledore didn't care, he was as old as he felt… Hmmm… maybe he should think about giving up the sweets for a while… Nah.
The door opened, and a young black haired man with blue eyes and a long neck appeared. He was wearing a black suit that was tailored to fit his body like a second skin and surprisingly, a red neckerchief wrapped around his swan-like neck . It would have been an impressive figure, except that he tripped over his feet as he was walking in and landed straight on his face. He started laughing, a full bellowing sound that started in the bottom of his chest and resonated throughout the small comfy room. He tilted his head to look up at Dumbledore smiling, his deep blue eyes glittering in amusement.
"Sorry about that. You wouldn't believe how often that happens." The young man said, slowly getting up. His hands nervously ran down his side, wiping away creases that had appeared in his suit. He sat down on an antique chair that looked out of place with the decor. It was a deep reddish brown colour, and the man sank into the well preserved leather with a sigh.
"That is quite alright, my boy. As long as you are not hurt." Dumbledore looked concerned for the person that he had just met, if you could call it meeting… they hadn't even exchanged names yet.
"Okay, I'm going to just come clean. I have something you want, and you have something I want. You want Voldemort gone and Harry Potter safe and I want my dollophead back. We can help each other. The Old Religion has permitted it." He smiled, but the smile was sad and hopeful, as if he was reminiscing about memories past. It looked like he didn't expect his wish to be granted though.
"Excuse me? I do not understand. What is a 'dollophead'? I do not believe that I anything that could be a 'dollophead', my boy." Dumbledore slipped his hand into his cloak pocket, and instead of grabbing his wand like any normal witch or wizard would have done, he grabbed a lemon drop and popped it into his mouth, smiling.
"Well, would you like the definition of the word?" The man smirked.
"Of course…" Dumbledore trailed off, a bit unsure, which was unusual for the wise old man who usually knew a solution to a problem.
"King Arthur." The man stated. His fingers were twirling the material of his neckerchief, anxious beyond measure. This was his one and only chance of getting Arthur back.
"And your name, my boy?" Dumbledore was frozen in his seat in shock. He suspected, but he didn't want to confirm it, didn't want to believe it. The man smiled sadly.
"My name is Merlin, and Voldemort never would have risen to as much power as he had and still has today if the damn goblins were not so greedy." Merlin's eyes went dark, though there was a flash of golden for a millisecond, in a blink-and-you-miss-it type of way. Dumbledore decided that he wasn't surprised, magic had a way of surprising him everyday. Meeting a man who was supposed to be dead didn't even hit the limit on what he could handle in a day; he was best friends with Nicolas Flamel.
"The goblins? What did they do, my boy?" Never let it be said that Dumbledore didn't call everyone 'his boy'. Even those people that were hundreds of years older than him were treated the same way.
"A thousand years ago, when Godric Gryffindor had commissioned the goblins to make a sword for him… Well, I suppose the goblins were desperate. They had no materials or the funds to make the sword, so they stole one. A very important sword. That they found at the bottom of the lake of Avalon. They used their magic or the like, I was never quite sure how they got the sword. They carved Gryffindors name into the handle and gave it to the man in person. King Arthur's return was meant to be in 31st December, 1926. He was meant to be reborn, made anew in the lake, but the sword is the key. The key to everything. The start and the end. It started the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Though that circle is soon to be ended. I need the sword. The sword must be put in the lake. Arthur must return." Merlin finished with a determined nod because to him, that was that. He needed the sword. He would get the sword.
"The circle is soon to be ended? What does that mean?" Dumbledore was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. Should he give the sword to the man? Could he trust him.
"Arthur was who the prophecy was originally targeted at, but the Old Religion delayed the telling of the prophecy. Arthur needed the sword, but it wasn't coming soon. So a new champion was needed, but there was no one that existed in that time period that was strong enough… So one was created to rival the new dark lord, Tom Riddle. Harry Potter. But when Arthur comes out of the lake of Avalon… The prophecy will be converted back to him. Harry Potter will be safe. Even with the horcrux in his head. Arthur will bring back the balance, and Tom Riddle's soul will be stitched together again. He might even have a completely different personality, because a dark lord will no longer be needed." Merlin smiled grimly, a harsh glint in his eye.
"I will give you the sword, but I do not understand…Tom's soul stitched together? A dark lord will no longer be needed?" Albus Dumbledore was almost afraid to ask why, but he had to. He had to know. Merlin smiled darkly.
"Tom Riddle will no longer be needed. The Old Religion will set things right. It will change Tom history and everybody's memories of that time period. It will probably blame a 'mysterious new dark lord' or Morgana. For all you know, when Arthur arrives, Harry and Tom could be in a relationship together. I wonder how the age difference would work..." Merlin smirked here, while Dumbledore shivered a little harder into his chair. "Also to answer your other question… Wherever Arthur is, Morgana will follow. But that, as they say, is my problem."
Dumbledore nodded, a bit scared, but he masked that fear very quickly. As Merlin said, it wasn't Dumbledore's problem.
"I will get the sword." Dumbledore stated quickly.
Merlin smiled. "Thank you."