A/N. This is my take on both the Harry Potter Story and the Arthurian legend. It will obviously be AU but it should for the first few chapters at least follow the Half-Blood Prince.

If anyone is interested I haven't stopped work on my other story, I just had this one in my head and wanted to see how it went down.

Chapter One: Avalon Rising.

When a person loses someone close to them it can cause serious problems but often we are able to rely on the support of our family and friends to help us through the hard times. When Harry lost his godfather Sirius Black there wasn't any kind of support from his family. Harry wasn't a stranger to death but it didn't make it any easier for someone to be so much a part of your life one minute and then be gone forever the next. Sirius was more than just Harry's Godfather he was in a very real way a link to his parents; he was a person who had known them intimately who had seen them in their shinning glory and at their lowest ebbs. Now since Sirius's death Harry had receded more than ever into his own shell, ignoring the countless messages he got from his friends and just wallowing in self-loathing. The nightmares wouldn't stop and the guilt wouldn't go, the names of those who had died because of him visited him every night in his dreams and left their marks on his mind.

His parents, Cedric Diggory, Barty Crouch Sr, and Sirius. They were just the ones that Harry could name as well he had no idea of how many had died in his name during the course of his life or how many would be destined to die, in either saving or protecting him. He hated himself for it happening but he know that, no matter what people would always sacrifice themselves when he was involved, even this school year he had taken a group of underage wizards into the Ministry its self because he had seen Sirius being tortured. He had put them in harm's way before he had even made sure that it wasn't a trap and he couldn't forgive himself for it and he wouldn't expect them to forgive him either, but he knew they always would.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvv

The few months following Sirius's death were some of the hardest that Harry had ever lived through. It had been his fault that Sirius was dead and no matter what anyone sad to him, his guilt never diminished or abated.

For Harry the worst part of it wasn't his relative isolation from the wizarding world, but the fact that now the ministry had finally admitted Toms return he had been reviewing a constant stream of condolence letters and letters which told him of the witch or wizards unwavering support throughout the ministry slander campaign. It was more than Harry could bare and after the first few letters he had refused to open anymore if it was brought by an owl he didn't recognise, the pile stacked up and grew larger by the day and before Harry knew it the nice neat pile had cascaded onto the floor and was now rapidly becoming a hazard which Harry would regularly fall over on entering his room for his trips to the bathroom or collecting his food for down stairs which his relatives begrudgingly gave to him.

Each night he would collapse onto his bed and wait for exhaustion to pull him into his nightmares. They were always the same, he would be in the Ministry again fighting against the death eaters and when all hope seemed lost the Order would arrive and the tide would turn. But then Sirius would be there fighting like a manic and grinning like a Cheshire cat, then Bellatrix would be there they would trade blows for a few moments but Sirius would let his guard down and be hit by a spell. The fall would always be the worst part because it always happened in slow motion, Sirius slowly falling through the veil with a look of surprise on his face. And Harry would wake up every night with tears in his eyes and guilt engulfing him.

But tonight was different before Sirius could fall through the veil someone stepped through it, this giant of a man strode through it confidently and locked eyes with Harry before walking towards him. The man wore deep blue robes with what appeared to be chain mail underneath, but Harry wasn't sure he had only ever seen some at the museums, his old primary school had sometimes taken him too. The Man stopped before him and spread his arms apart and raised his head to the ceiling "Jeg kaller deg Harry Potter til de eldstes råd. Vet dette Avalon er økende og det er behov for." The man bellowed.

Harry woke with a start but not with his usual tears or guilt they were momentarily forgotten and replaced by a feeling of awe, but Harry didn't understand why. It had only been a dream so why had the mystery man provoked such a feeling in him, he hadn't understood what had been said other than his name and the word Avalon which rang a bell in the back of his mind but he couldn't think why. Quickly checking his bedside clock he saw that it was only four in the morning, looking up at Hedwig she was resting on her perch with both eyes closed. But as if she could feel Harry looking at her she opened one of her eyes and focused her golden eye down onto her owner.

Harry let a slight guilty smile creep to his face before he got up and opened up her cage; letting her step on to his outstretched arm he placed her on his desk before sitting down to write a letter.

Dear Hermione,

I know you and Ron have been worried but please don't I am fine. Anyway just writing this to you to ask a question, have you ever heard of something called Avalon? I heard it yesterday and it's been in my head since then, I know that I know it from somewhere but I can't for the life of me remember.

But don't just think I am only writing to you for information (even if you are like an encyclopaedia) how are you and will I be seeing you when I go to the Burrow? Well if I go to the Burrow it happens so often I think I take it for granted sometimes that the Mr and Mrs Weasley will have me.

If your Writing to Ron tell him I'll send him a letter soon as well, don't want him to feel left out do I.

Love Harry.

Harry stopped and looked over the letter, he didn't want to lie to his friends but he knew if he mentioned his nightmares they would never just leave him alone, and would force him to deal with them. That was not something he felt he could be dealing with right now. So he sealed the letter and turned to Hedwig who was waiting with her leg already lifted for him to attach the letter, he tied it on and was about to open the window when he said "Now girl don't take this straight to Hermione wait until she is at breakfast at least, and sorry for waking you again."

She gave a little hoot and jumped up to the window ledge before looking back at Harry's outstretched hand which would close the window after she left, moving quickly she gave his hand a slight nip as if to reprimand him for waking her up and then flew off before Harry could react.

Swearing softly to himself Harry wondered for the hundredth time if he would ever have Hedwig properly trained or just get used to getting reprimanded by his own owl. After rubbing his sore finger for several minutes, Harry crept back to his bed and lay down as quietly as he could. Sighing to himself he tried to get some more sleep because no matter how awful he felt, he would feel worse in the morning when he had to deal with the Dursleys.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvv

The Island of Azkaban was old, old beyond common reckoning. The Castles structure was whispered by some to be as old as the coliseum or even the pyramids, but the truth was known by none. In modern times the Wizarding world had taken over the island used it to keep captive the worst examples of human life there were. Murders and the insane were but a few who called this Island home, no matter how unwilling they did.

But the history of Azkaban was different from its current purpose, the castle stood as a shining example of righteousness and honour. Those who inhabited it were the greatest of the land, whose live where dedicated to the fight against the dark. The immortal warriors of the island slumbered deep in the foundations of Azkaban, sleeping undisturbed for millennia they were content in their slumber. That was until their lord arose again to lead them once more in their conquest and fight in the prophesised war.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvv

It was just a normal day for junior Auror James Stoker, walking his rounds of the prison making sure no one had been dead too long, or that any Dementors where paying to close attention to anyone prisoner. But today instead of the usual close feeling of terror which accompanied him on his rounds he felt almost normal. There were no bad memorise floating to the top of his mind or even a particular chill in the air which seemed to be a persistent feature of the prison. It was only with a glance out of one of the very few windows the James first noticed that he could see the sea. Now this may not strike a normal person as being unusual but for James's entire tenure as a prison guard not once had the eerie fog that the Dementors gave off relented, it obscured a person's view of their surrounding and made the island near invisible even on the clearest of days.

James was beginning to panic. The prison seemed to have plunged into a deathly silence and there were no Dementors to be seen. He rushed to the court yard and looked for other members of his team. He found them as he came hurtling out of the door way, literally falling over one person.

Scattered around the courtyard where the different members of his team, James could feel the icy grip of fear begin to claw its way at his soul. How hadn't he heard anything was the first thought which came to the forefront of his mind, he had only been up two levels and hadn't heard any calls for help or cries of terror. He quickly checked the body of a person near him, he tried not to look the person in the face in case she was dead and he knew her.

But he found a pulse so he moved onto the next body and then the next. All the people in the team where alive, none had their wands drawn or even had expressions of surprise on their faces. He was still kneeling down at the unconscious form of a colleague when he heard the heavy foot steps behind him.

Turning slowly he came face to face with one of the biggest men he had ever seen. Easily taller than 6ft the man was vast not just in height but width as well, he had the arms of weight lifter and carried himself with supreme confidence. Dressed in deep blue robes which didn't completely cover the shining chainmail he wore beneath, with an outstretched hand he pointed as James.

"Du hvilket år er det?" the man shouted. James felt the blood drain from his face, he was being shouted at by a heavily bearded man who spoke a different language and didn't seem like he would have any qualms about disposing of James should he prove useless.

"I….I…I don't under….understand you." James stammered out.

The man looked confused for a few moments and stood their silently obviously thinking. Finally understanding seemed to pass across the man's face and he stepped closer to James again.

"How about know?" the man asked gently. James mealy nodded in return.

"Well firstly what year is it young man. And secondly who is using this castle now, I'm guessing that the Norsemen have given up on this place."

"Its 1996 sir." James replied quickly. The man thought for a few moments and then began to talk quietly to himself which James couldn't help but over hear.

"Dam…Dam, the council will not be pleased about this." Turning his attention to James again the man stepped even closer than before, now leaving only an inched between them.

"You still haven't told me who is using this castle." The man said.

"The Ministry." James replied again.

"And the Ministry is?" enquired the man. Now it was James's turn to look confused, how this man could not know the year or had seemingly never heard of the Ministry of Magic was beyond belief.

"The Ministry of Magic of course." James said more confidently then he felt.

"Ah well send them our regards and tell them to not attempt at retaking this Island." The man said while raising his right hand to James's face.

"What do you mean retaking Azkaban." James asked.

"So that's what you called it, well tell your Ministry that Avalon is rising and are taking back what is theirs by the right of the council. Know this mortal I am the right hand of the council, their mailed first, the protector of our slumber and the champion of kings." The man said while placing his hand on James's face.

And with a loud crack James and his team where gone, and the man stood alone in the court yard. Silence now reigned but he could hear noises beginning to creep to his ears from his above him. Turning his face towards the open sky he began to speak in a loud clear voice.

"Be warned mortals, I am but a messenger of the councils will. You all will be judged for your crimes and foul deeds; the word of the council is law and shall dictate your futures. If you resist I shall end you, if you think our justice unfair I shall re-educate you and if you think you have any hope I shall destroy it." The man stopped and stretched his arms out to his sides.

"AVALON IS RISING AND YOU SHALL BE JUDGED." The man roared.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvv

The Ministry was in uproar, every department was on high alert and everybody was brought into work. The news of Azkaban was being suppressed for now until the situation could be assessed. Following the last twelve months of denial from Fudge he was fighting a losing battle to remain in control and part of that battle was once again relying on Dumbledore for advice, it had only took Fudge moments before he had sent an urgent owl to the ancient headmaster asking for him to come as soon as he could.

Dumbledore appeared in a burst of flames in the fireplace of Minister Fudge himself, lightly padding himself down to remove any dust or soot he stepped out of the fireplace. Twirling his long beard absentmindedly he stood patiently in the empty room waiting for the Minister to arrive. The owl which had summoned him had carried a very brief letter which hadn't explained the reason for his summons only that he should come quickly because his guidance was needed.

It was while Dumbledore stood thinking over the possible reasons Fudge would summon him that the minister entered his office.

"….get the major department heads here now." He shouted over his shoulder as he hurried into his office. Met with the smiling face of Dumbledore Fudge's mood worsened.

"For Merlin's sake Dumbledore this isn't a time to smile, don't you realise how serious this is?" Fudge snapped.

Dumbledore continued to smile as he replied softly "No Cornelius, I am not aware of the situation. You will recall that in your letter you did not specify a reason for my summons. So you can understand why my demeanour may not match your own."

Fudge opened and closed his mouth several time as if to make a reply but no noise escaped his lips. Straightening the bowler on his head Fudge rearranged his suit, then looking Dumbledore straight in the eyes to make sure he could see any sign of deception he explained the situation.

When Fudge finished talking he walked slowly and sat down behind his highly polished desk, leaving Dumbledore to stand near the fireplace. The old wizard was silent and had his head cocked to the side in thought, Fudge waited patiently. Which itself was a surprise because it was a well-known fact the Minister was not a patient man, but he hadn't detected any traces of deceit in Dumbledore's eyes, only surprise and shock.

Finally Dumbledore finished working things over in his head, the evidence didn't appear to add up. The Ministry assumed that it had been Voldermort who had captured Azkaban, but that wasn't his style he never stayed in any one place to long and never this openly. Also the Aurors who had been guarding the prison had been sent back alive and unharmed, even the muggleborn ones.

No this defiantly didn't feel like something Voldermort would do, Dumbledore had been expecting an attack on Azkaban because of the recent prisoners but not a deceleration of Voldermort intent to hold the prison as his base. Turning to Fudge again Dumbledore decided to see if he had any more information available.

"Cornelius is there anything else you have left out, anything at all no matter how odd or unimportant it may seem?" Dumbledore asked.

The Minister thought for a few moments before replying. "Well one of the guard was raving about something called Avalon and something about a mailed fist." Fudge said with a shrug.

Something in the back of Dumbledore's head was recognising something; at Fudges words the Headmaster was desperately trying to remember why these words seemed familiar to him. But every time he thought he was close to an understanding it slipped away from him like a forgotten dream. Knowing he would need more time and space to research he resigned himself to putting his thoughts on hold until he was able to better assess the situation.

Bidding farewell to Fudge he stepped into the fire and threw the floo powder into the flames. In a flash he was back in his office with the familiar song of Fawkes greeting him, he strode over to his pensive to see if he couldn't unravel this mystery.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvv

Please if you liked it review.

The Language which is used by the right hand of the Council will be explained, but some people may already have an idea why he is speaking it and what he says.