A/N: This is my first time writing a crossover fic, so I'm really excited and nervous. This story is experimental for the most part as I glide my way through the universe of both Harry Potter and Merlin. The story will include Original Characters, but I hope that doesn't sway you guys off.

If there any mistakes or questions please do not be discourage to tell me whether it be via review or PM :) And apologies for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise nor do I own BBC's Merlin, but I do own the OC(s) that will appear in this fanfiction.

I

INTO THE DARKNESS, COME OUT OF THE LIGHT

In the dark there shriveled on the damp stone floor was a being made of clay. Its head was grotesque with its dry wrinkly skin of brown. Its mouth was broken and ajar with his sharp teeth poking out. It had no eyes and no nose in terms of what can be seen. There were slits around his neck that seems to be gills. Its arms were crossed and long entwined with its sharp claws that could tear through metal. What an interesting creature, but it was sure as dead. It was battered and ruined with the cracks all but diminished, fading larger and larger with each growing second like an hourglass gathering the sand.

Beyond its breaking remains, a trail of blood was behind it. There lay a human garbed in green who lay facing the floor. It was man that was for sure with his burly body, but no one could know who he was because of the lack of his head. And if that was gruesome enough, there were far more gruesome sights to behold with a trail of bodies that littered this place. Some corpses were disemboweled by creatures like that clay being. And the bodies were lining up and meshed with others.

What could have happened here? It was like a slaughter house that stunk of blood in the air and the rotting flesh that lay. Down below the spiraling steps of gold, the blood had flowed that was mixed with something black. It was sure to be blood, but the blackness seemed unnatural, so it must have belonged to the creatures that met their fate. Although, what that fate was entirely questionable whether it be done by blade or wand. This was a place where battle had begun, but the victor was undecided as it seemed no one was alive to claim that title.

This was a place you shouldn't be in. And yet here stood a woman amongst it all.

She was a misplaced figure in the sight of rotting decay. Her skin was white as the winter's snow as it seemed to glow a tint of silver like a star in the dark. She wore a white long-sleeved tunic under the long leather brown vest. Her blonde hair was swept behind her back in a tight ponytail, and her fringe were left, covering on her forehead. She walked slowly not minding the blood that stained her black laced up boots. Her black leather trousers flex in every movement she made. And her eyes were covered by brown googles with golden embellishment around the lens holder. She looked down, avoiding the bodies that lay on the floor.

Slowly, the bodies disintegrate into ash and dust, including the humans that lay. She seemed to follow the trail of blood as she climbed down the golden stairs that ended into the demented abyss. It seemed a cold current of wind blew from below, chilling her skin yet she did not care.

Red droplets continued to fall into the void, making a splash like a tear hitting the ground. And when the darkness seemed to cover everything, a faint blue light blazed in the room in the shape of an orb. It was then the woman took action.

She brought out a thin, white, and gleaming coil of rope. It seemed light, flexible, and slender yet do not let its appearance deceive you. She tied the other end around the golden rail of the stairs, making sure it's tightly in place. And afterwards, she threw the rest into the void. Slowly, she descended down the stairs.

The orb floated into the void, showing the creases of its rock-strewn sides, descending down below. It helped the woman, but not from sight. It was to find something of hers. It stopped at a body, lying hewn on the bedrock. His face was pale and his eyes were dead with his head was bashed in; still bleeding heavily. It circled around the body, but then zooming out into another.

Although this time, it was a boy, barely of the age of eight. His skin was pale not like death, but at the edge of it. He suffered a head wound that was covered by the bangs of his black hair. His eyes were closed as though he was sleeping, but this was different. This one was alive.

The orb disappeared and the woman appeared yet again, pulling the rope and letting it fall on the ground. She was crouching over the body in worry. Her arm was stretched out with her fingers on his forehead. The woman closed her eyes and whispered. Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp and his bloody hand shot up, gripping her wrist.

The woman didn't even seem surprised but worry was etched on her face. It was obvious that she cared much for the wounded boy, and for a woman like her to be in a place like this had be a huge risk. Slowly, his eyes opened weakly, revealing his cerulean eyes. He seemed confused and dazed like he was floating in a dream until it hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes shot up in fear and he breathed so desperately, looking around the place. He tried to sit up, but the woman stopped him, putting her hands on his chest and gently pushing him down.

"Easy, there." She said. "You're hurt."

Her voice was soft yet enchanting; rich with something entirely new. There was something different in her accent. Clear English, but quite as it is mixed with something foreign. He felt like he knew her but the buzzing sound in his head distracted him. There was a stinging feeling at his head, and so he lifted a hand to touch it, but he was stopped by the honey blonde woman who he now recognized as his guardian.

The boy opened his mouth to ask, but found no strength to speak; only to let out an incoherent whisper that sounds entirely like a wisp of wind. This had irritated him to a fault, but the pain and dread overruled that factor. His guardian seemed to be examining his wounds. There was a click and it seemed she had been carrying a medical kit with her. Strange, he didn't notice it at all.

There were shrieks in the distance and he could see the woman knit her brows in distress as she hastily wraps a cloth around his wound as a temporary bandage.

The shrieks were getting louder. It had the ability to make his blood run cold. He glanced at the woman, who seemed not to care. And then there was an audible slice in the air, the shrieks were silenced. A few feet away from them there was a thud.

There were light footsteps approaching that were barely perceptible enough. It was only after a second, a figure came into view. It was a tall man with a lean yet muscly figure. He had a stoic and quite handsome face, although, hidden underneath a deep cowl that hid everything, but his eyes. His eyes were seen as it blazes blue and grey, piercing his soul with a single glance. Under his black cloak, a velvet red robe with intricate markings can be seen. This was the kind of man that shouldn't be angered. And a regal eminence he produced had got him in a state of wonder.

He was his second guardian.

"We must hurry!" he said, looking down at his limp body.

"Wait a second." The woman pleaded and after she had secured the bandage, she nodded at the silver blond. At this movement, he crouched down before his lying body and scooped him in his arms. And then, they ran off.

It wasn't a horrible feeling, but it was uncomfortable. The wound that the woman bandaged had stung his side, burning with every movement he made. The two that accompanied him ran through the corridors, getting the hell out where ever they were.

"Where is Sir Leon?" the woman asked as they run through a bleak stony pathway.

The silver blond carrying him responded, "How should I know where that bloody fool is?"

Sir Leon…the name sounded familiar to the boy. The flashes of memories invaded his mind to let him concluded that Sir Leon was his third guardian. So many flashes…but his heads told him to sleep like they were but lullabies.

His vision became blurry and all he remembered were the shrieks of inhuman voices, explosive blasts of whatever it was, and clangs of metal on metal.

Dominik was getting sick of this rescue. It may provide him the exercise that he needed to refine his swordsmanship again, but the prospect that he was battling not only what's left of those gruesome creatures over the years but also stick waving lunatics (Albeit, he is one of those stick waving lunatics). A green flash of light skidded past him, making him zig zag to avoid getting hit.

This was getting really annoying for his taste.

They ran out of the cave, entering the tunnels that could potentially take them to the exit. Taking a sharp turn, they arrived in a large basilica, their designated area of meeting with Sir Leon. No longer was the place the mountainous caverns, the place was marble lined with many murals of people painted around the room.

He gave the boy's frail body to Anastasia as an incoming group of Death Eaters lay ahead. When the boy had closed his eyes, Anastasia had slightly panicked at the sight.

It usually disturbed him to see the blonde restrain so much emotion, but he admired the effort. She sat next to the boy with his head on her lap, and Anastasia had a whispered a spell and formed shield up around him and her that glowed blue. They both knew they were after the wounded boy amongst them. Most of their spells were projected to hit her shield, but it never scratched or met its mark.

Dominik swung his long sword, decapitating the first Death Eater to stumble inside the tunnels.

The wizards were trying to break her shield, but anyone who knew her magic would know that it was for naught. Anastasia threw her hand, muttering an incoherent spell that made her enemies crumbles into dust. Sometimes this was a side he both admired and feared.

He knew she had learned for the best.

He slashed through a creature that came charging at him, running his sword through its chest before stretching out his wand out and pointing it at another one of mindless minions.

"Impendimenta!" he casted and the wizard seemed to slow down as if locked in time. "Confringo!"

His grey eyes glowed and the frozen wizard was pushed backwards with

This had continued on from sometime with already going around the room like a dance in a feast. Dominik was never one to result in using magic, but ever since his attendance to Hogwarts, he started using it more. Although, it was not to the point he would let it do everything for him. He had the house elves for that.

Soon the battle was done and there was no enemy to face, but he could be wrong.

There were footsteps behind him and he spun, intending to slice his foe, but there was a clang and his blow was deflected. He looked to see his sword at level with another sword wielded by none other than Sir Leon.

"Did you miss me?" he said cheekily.

Dominik glared at him and sheathed his sword in a blink of an eye. Leon blinked in surprise; it seemed he would never get use to his abilities.

"Where have you been?" Dominik asked coldly.

Leon and Dominik had never gotten along much. They respected each other's entitlements, but they had their disagreements. Leon was an enigma wrapped in a burrito (Roland's words, not his) that was connected into the young boy's life. He didn't know how, but it seemed gratifyingly important as Sir Leon claims to be an immortal Knight of the Round Table which made the tall blond laugh. Although not too long after that day, his testament was proven to be true.

Sir Leon, or rather Leon Nighy as he is mostly known, was a tall and fit man with his long curly brown locks and grey eyes. His scruff begun to weather down and grow, giving him a much older look. He was dressed in traditional medieval armor with his chainmail and red tunic with the emblem of a golden dragon. And a sword stuck at his hip.

"The portkey!"

The knight looked to see Anastasia, staring upon him, gripping the boy close to him. There was gladness but dread present in a glint of his eye. He pulled out a wooden dragon, moving near her. Dominik followed suit, standing near the knight. He held it out as each person, positioned their hands above the portkey. Anastasia struggled, making Dominik take the boy from her (again), adjusting his hold to make it tight and secure but not suffocating.

With a deep breath, they clutched the item, spiraling down and disappearing into thin air.

His head ached and his stomache growled. Merlin blinked his eye blearily to see the blurred images of his surroundings. At first, he thought he was back at his old room in Camelot, but when things became clearer, he panicked.

He jolted up from his bed, ignoring the stinging pain from all over his body. Where was he? He looked and scanned where he was, processing everything. Merlin was sitting on a large four poster bed with a thick and comfy green blanket on him. He was dressed in a white linen set of pajamas and—wait!

Merlin didn't know if this was someone's sick prank or this was just a dream. His hands were small, child-like, the hands that belong to a child. He touched his face, feeling the soft skin, absent with the feeling of his scruff or beard, or even his usual old and wrinkly skin. The warlock breathed in and out, calming his nerves about something that could be perceived as a joke.

Around the room, he looked to see a vanity with a wide mirror. Stumbling off bed, he fell, tangled in the sheets. He groaned in pain as he fell on his side, but it wasn't enough to put him down. With haste and enough strength, he kicked the sheets off, scurrying to the mirror. As he looked, he was torn between being fascinated or bloody horrified.

Staring back at him was a child that wasn't him. Yeah, it was him, but last time he checked he was an old man, waiting in the shores of Avalon; not a lanky, big-eared child. He looked like himself before in his true younger years with his pale skin and blazing blue eyes. His cheeks more prominent than before.

Noting the simple grandeur present in the room, it wasn't as grand as the rooms from Camelot, but it was just as beautiful with its shiny wooden furnishings and marble floors. Merlin noted the green-colored walls reminding him of the colors of the forest.

Whose room was this?

His mind wandered, scrapping the bottom of the barrel for something of conclusion. All he remembered were voices—voices of the Old Religion, telling him a mission he needed to finish. Obviously, his mission (rather destiny) was to wait for Arthur arrival, but there was something else in the making. There was a drumming sensation, making him lurch and lean forwards; his hand waving out to find anything to steady himself with. A wooden lampstand was what he gripped, treating it like a cane.

Only yesterday he was an aching old man, waiting tirelessly upon the lake's shore. And the next he was a small boy in an unknown room.

There was a knock and he spun around to see a familiar face pop out.

"Morning!" Leon came in with a tray of food for him; a big grin in place.

He wore muggle clothes composed of dark blue jeans tucked inside a pair of black boots, and a white sweater that fitted him perfectly. His curly mop of hair was the same as before and his scruff seemed to have been more nicely trimmed that before. This surprised him especially with how Leon was happy in this situation.

The knight placed the tray on a small round table and pulled the chair back for him. This alerted the warlock, surprised at the gesture and more importantly—his friend was alive.

"L-Leon?" Merlin asked in shock.

The said knight turned around, humming in response.

"Is that really you?"

What happiness that was on the knight's face faded as a dour realization hit its mark. Leon was so preoccupied with the happiness of his friend being discovered that he didn't realize that gravity of the situation that would seem to him.

"Yes,"

The last thing he knew Merlin would do was flinging his small body to him, wrapping his thing arms around his torso like the child he seems to be. Leon froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around his small body. Despite the small frame, Leon felt the same familiarity he did centuries ago. For a moment, he felt like he was in his own time again, back in Camelot with the rest of the knights…but whatever perfect trance there was over with a flick of Merlin's wrist.

The young boy parted from him when realization and confusion had befallen him.

"H-How are you here?" Merlin questioned, fumbling over his words, feeling the weight of it all. "You are supposed to be dead…If you are here, then…"

Hope flashed in his eyes. "Is also Arthur?"

Sadness hit Leon like an arrow. The knight had learned of his friend's unjust fate in the hands of the Old Religion. To be forced to roam the world until his destiny had been completed. You could say the same with Leon, but his was a surprise that came when he noticed he wasn't aging. Unlike Merlin, he did not have a purpose to why he had eternal life—always thinking it was a punishment for all he had done to innocent sorcerers alike under the hand of Uther. It was like gift (a curse if you ask him) given to him by no one in particular (although he suspected the Druids at one point). There was no box, no instructions, and no manufacturer's warranty. It just was.

To stand beside a fellow friend and immortal with a heavy burden on his shoulders was devastating. All these years Merlin was still an optimistic man with hope always lingering even in his darkest day and night? Hopefully, that had not changed.

And for how long his friend had waited for their king to come back…well…he's not yet coming back.

Leon's befallen face gave all the explanation that was needed for Merlin to figure how he came to be. He had been shrewd like that. It was the face of someone who had seen a lot, been through more than any man should. It was a face he knew all too well. The young warlock just nodded, backing away, yet a distant smile was on his face. As optimistic as he can be, it was better to have Leon with him after all the loneliness he had endured.

So that's the bright side!

"So, how am I a boy?" Merlin asked in a chirpier voice, gesturing to his whole small body.

Leon smiled alongside him. "Well, that's we don't know why really."

"We?" Merlin's eyes lightened up. "There are other knights?"

The knight rubbed the back of his neck. "No…there isn't."

Leon sat on the chair, sighing as the weariness caught up with him.

"Then tell me."

"Merlin," the knight looked at him. "It's a long story. And the food is going cold."

He gestured to the tray of delicious looking foods. Merlin sat on a chair opposite of Leon, facing the tray. It annoyed him a little bit that he had to jump to get to sit on the chair. The young warlock looked at the food on his plate and gawked at it. It looked like a meal fit for a king—actually more than a king, it's for an emperor.

Merlin had always been into the simple things in life, and he was also so modest and casual—careful not to get any unwanted attention to himself. But the food in front of him is probably the most expensive thing he could ever have. The food on his plate was something hadn't really recognized.

"It's called a Tarte flambée." Leon informed, catching the odd look Merlin made. "I know how you feel. It looks odd, doesn't it?"

"Did you make it?"

Leon laughed. "Good gracious, no! I have no skill in cooking whatsoever, but my friend does."

"Who is this friend?" Merlin starts eating the dish with delight at the delicious flavor.

"Merlin," the knight clasped his hands together. "How much do you remember about the tunnels?"

The young warlock's brows furrowed. "Not much. Just a lot of fighting…there were voices…a woman and a cloaked man."

"Did the woman have blonde hair?"

"Yes. And the man had such cold eyes." He remembered.

"Those two were the reason I found you."

"How?"

Leon sighed. "It's a bit of a long story." He shifted his seat.

"I reckon it's a story worth hearing."

"But I am not the right person to tell it." Leon said when a knock was heard.

They shifted to see a woman and a man enter the room. The man was tall, taller than Percival and Leon himself. The man held himself in regality and demand, intimidating Merlin just a little bit. He had slick platinum blond hair that was a bit wavy, and the cold blue eyes that stared right at his soul—and it didn't help that his thick eyebrows that added to that. The man wore a lavish suit that added to his formality.

It was the cloaked man from the tunnels. And looking at him right now, he might as well prefer when the man was cloaked.

The woman, on the other hand, had an ethereal aura about her that seemed so enchanting and comforting. She was of average height, reaching until the man's neck. She seemed very friendly and gentle yet there was something dangerous about it that should not be ignored yet it is. She had blonde hair that cascading off her shoulders in waves of gold while her fringe remained perfectly above her blue eyes that were soft as the sky above the sea.

Like the man, she held herself in regality but was something more akin to softness. This was the woman that healed him.

Leon stood up, smiling. "Merlin, I want you to meet Dominik Gabor,"

The blond man nodded in acknowledgement at him, his eyes clearly brimming with amusement and curiosity.

"And this is Anastasia Redford,"

The blonde woman smiled in acknowledgement that made it feel like all the burdens had gone away.

"I'm Merlin…" he said awkwardly, earning a wider smile from Anastasia.

"We know." She said, giving Dominik a glance.

The tall man rolled his eyes in return, ignoring the smile that appeared on his companion's face. Leon gestured for them to seat down with them. Merlin had the unfortunate luck to seat next to the tall man. There was something about him that unsettled the young warlock. There was a tinge of darkness inside him, but his magic had labelled him trustworthy which made him doubt whether it was working correctly. It was also strange, the aura that the man and the woman gave out. They were like many of the wizards and witches of today, but there was also the aura of the Old Religion latched onto them as well as something else. There was something potent in them; something powerful inside with a foreign yet familiar discharge.

The man hardly gave him a glance, just snapping his fingers as a cup of tea appeared in front of him. Like any posh gentleman, he picked up his cup and drank his tea in the most elegant way possible.

It did surprise Merlin that a normal New Magic wizard was able to conjure it with the snap of his fingers and without a wand. And he did feel the Old Religion within him and the woman, perhaps they were Druid-descendants. As said before, there was something odd about him that he could not place.

"I think, there are many things we should explain to the boy," Dominik said nonchalantly, sipping his tea.

"Ah, yes." The woman, Anastasia, spoke, clasping her hands together. "What has Sir Leon told you?"

Merlin munched on his meal, surprised at the sheer delicious taste of it. He swallowed before he said, "That you two were the reason he found me."

"Basically, he told you nothing." Dominik said, earning a glare from the knight himself.

Something told Merlin that those two were not on good terms at all.

"Now, now, now," Anastasia chided looking rather disappointed at the glaring contest before the two grown men. "We should have to start from the beginning."

The blonde woman turned her gaze to the young warlock and he found himself frozen at her sight. "I suspect that you had sensed…something odd…between my companion and me, no?"

"I can feel the New Magic from within you both, but I am confused to find the Old Magic to there as well. May I ask if you two are Druids—or rather Druid-descendants?"

The blondes shared a look. "We are somewhat like that, but entirely new." The woman said.

"There is also this aura, but I can't quite place it." Merlin added, taking a whiff of it.

"That is what sets us apart from Druids and New Magic wizards and alike."

"So, there is something?" Merlin asked, curious.

"Well, yes." Anastasia said. "What you are sensing is something called the Lifestream."

This information boggled the warlock's mind. The Lifestream? He had never heard of it before. And when he asked what it was, his mind was spinning at the new information. Lifestream—as the woman calls it—is an ethereal substance that pours out of the Earth. It was said to be the river of life that circles the planet, giving life to the world and everything in it. It was its soul, the origin of life, but yet even with that he couldn't believe his ears.

"Soul?" Merlin asked, confused.

Dominik rolled his eyes. "We mean that the planet we live on is a sentient being—of course, that is if you know what a planet is." he said, snidely.

Merlin glared at him. So far the man had been an absolute prat—not he was way worse than a prat. Yet there was something about him that he could figure out. Although, he used dark magic in him, something told him that he was not at all dark of heart. Yes, that would mislead with his stoic nature and sarcastic remarks. There was something behind those eyes that held something—he daresay—reassuring; something soft yet caged behind a stone prison.

"Ignore him." Anastasia said, giving Dominik an unamused look before turning back to Merlin with a smile. "But that is true. The Earth is alive, but not only is the Lifestream, the soul of the world or the origin of life. It's the basis of where the Old Religion began."

Not that was something he did expect, but it's also something he cannot unreasonably doubt. Leon saw the look of disbelief in Merlin face, getting his cup of tea and drinking it.

"Believe it or not, Merlin." The knight said, garnering the warlock's attention. "Everything has to start from something."

And Leon was right. Everything had to start with something, then why else could we have anything at all? As the Christians think the world was made by God, could it be possible for the Old Religion be built on this mysterious entity? By all means, he listened to the woman's explanation. The warlock asked why he was not aware of this entity. And Dominik supplied the vaguest answer ever.

"Because you weren't there."

What did that mean? Soon as the tall blond had said that, the woman elaborated it more.

"What he meant to say is that is something entirely new to you. Something you of all people cannot sense easily. You are Magic, but this is Life. You may have mastered control over life and death, but that is but a mere scale that was created by the Old Religion—not Life itself. Do not confuse the Lifestream with the Old Religion.

The Lifestream is very different from the Old Religion. The Old Religion is the magic of the Earth itself that binds all things together. It is the balance of the order of the world. The Lifestream is, as said before, the origin of life, where everything comes from and will return to. The Old Religion is a sacred balance between all people, creatures, and elements of the universe which must be eternally preserved. At the heart of the religion is the balance of life and death itself. The Lifestream contains the essence of the world and the memories, emotions, and knowledge of all who have lived on it. It also acts as the afterlife. Once you die, you become part of the Lifestream as you were when you were created.

There is a definitive line that separates the two yet one cannot exist without the other."

Her explanation landed Merlin into a state of thought. It did make so much sense for the Old Religion to come from such an entity. The Old Religion was like a state of rules in order for the world not to fall on to the edge of anarchy. And that rules came from the part of magic. Magic is something etched and woven into the very being of the world—and that's this point it's the Lifestream. They work as partners—maybe even like how a nation works. Imagine the Lifestream as the country—the land that is home to its people. The Old Religion is like its government. They make laws and many things in order for the country to not tear itself apart. And honestly, it was hard to imagine the Old Religion to exist without the Lifestream.

What is there for the Old Religion to bind when there is none? What is there for the Old Religion to balance when there is no world? It is a balance that exists in all of life, but how could that exist when there is no one life alive to be balanced?

Whatever doubt he may have had was washed away. He continued to listen to rest of her explanation as she begun to explain the discovery of the Lifestream. It all began in the form of a group of Druid children that was dying because of the Black Death.

"They would not make it through the night." The physician said to the grief-stricken parents.

They were a small encampment of Druids in hiding—one of the last few, and yet their next generation was dying at the hands of a disease they could not cure. Like all diseases, one must know the cause before they could cure it. Alas, they did not know. And now, they are made to suffer as they watched their children die.

Pale they were as their labored breaths were shallow. Six of these children were suffering on their woolen cots as their mothers tried to keep themselves together. There was wailing from outside the tent—no parent should ever bury their child…and yet now they would. Even those New Magic wizards were having a hard time preventing this plague to haunt them as well. It was pestilence that came with the wind, and now a storm was brewing. As the skies grew darker, the farther away this plague will end.

There was no magic to help them now—no potion to make this right.

Yet a miracle came in a form they did not expect. It was midnight as the camp slept in troubled sleep. Around the morrow their next generation would die, and to wake from their stupor was a scream. All of them bolted from their tents to see what was happening. The scream came from a woman who was with the dying children in the tent. She came out with fear in her eyes.

"Something's with them." She exclaimed. "Something is with the children."

Before any of them came anywhere need the tent, a burst of light exploded from the ground. It was streams of green and blue, effervescent and luminescent. They swirled around the tent, going through the opening and glowing inside. None of them knew what was going on. None of them knew what these light streams were. All they did know was that their magic did not work on it, and that scared them.

When the lights faded into thin air, they crowded inside the tent to see the surprise of their life. The lights did not harm them—in fact it was the exact opposite—it cured them. The children were asleep with no sign of illness within them. They slept soundly in their beds, and the whole encampment cheered. The children were well and safe, but little did they know what this new generation held.

The tale Anastasia told him was the very first time the Lifestream had ever introduced itself to the world. And this was the tale of the very first of the Advent Children.

"So these children were the very first of them?" Merlin asked, intrigued by it.

"Yes," Dominik finally had spoken up again, snapping his fingers so the table was clean of empty dishes. "They are the first generation of Setoras."

"As a basic summary," Leon said before Merlin could say anymore. "the Advent Children—otherwise known as the Setoras—are the people that can harness the power of the Lifestream, but not just anyone can became a Setora. The ability to do so is locked in the genetic code of the first generation, but even so, some can never truly be given its power. There are times that if the Lifestream reaches out; you can converse with it like I can."

"When did you get so technical?" Merlin asked, clearly impressed.

"Since Leonardo Da Vinci."

"You met him?"

"Save his life, more like it."

"Going back to the topic at hand," Dominik said, uninterested on who met who. "We have reason to believe that the Lifestream—with the collaboration of the Old Religion—has sent you to fulfill a mission."

"What is this mission?"

Leon pulled out a picture from his breast pocket and slid it in front of Merlin. "Do you know this boy?" he asked, clasping his hands together in front of him.

The warlock looked at the knight with a raised brow at his sudden business-like attitude before he got the picture and looked. It was a picture of a boy that looked like him (well, now that he's eight years old again). He had unkempt brown hair, and bright green eyes behind a pair of round spectacles that had met to makes floors. He was small and quite thin—gangly-looking with the overly large clothes hanging on his body like a curtain. The boy looked ordinary except from the scar on his forehead.

"It's Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived." Merlin answered, sliding the photo back to Leon, realizing something. "You think, I was meant to protect him?"

"You were right, he is quick." Dominik said sarcastically at Leon.

Leon ignored the tall blond, leaning forward closer to Merlin. "It's a logical explanation with you being turned into a child again, a child around his age." The knight pointed at the picture of Harry Potter again.

"But I already have a mission—"

"—that will be suspended until further notice." Dominik interrupted him.

"You can't do that!" Merlin said in protest. "My destiny is to wait for Arthur."

"He isn't going away soon." Dominik countered. "Why not do something else until then?"

"I have too!"

Dominik stood up, glaring the warlock. "So, you'd rather sit on the shoreline waiting for your oh-so-dear-beloved-King Arthur—" he said in a low and spiteful voice. "—Rather than to help a poor defenseless boy, who doesn't even have a clue what Hell is instore for him?"

As much as Merlin didn't want it to, Dominik was right. Arthur is not coming back—not yet at least. And what is he to do when his mission laid waste on a shore, countlessly awaiting his king, his friend, his prat? Even if it is clear, he could simply abandon him. No matter what soul on this planet says so. And yet, he is compelled to do this…mission. Looking at the boy again in the picture, he felt pity for him, as well as sadness. This boy didn't even look like he could lift up a sword, or fight the evil in the world. He was an innocent—too young to know the hardships of what fate brought down on them. But it broke him to see the sadness in the boy's eyes, the loneliness that came with it. It was obvious to Merlin than he was not very happy.

To think that he would leave this boy to face Hell alone would not be the right choice. Arthur would have done the same. To stay by the boy's side through it all, even if it means being trapped in a child's body. And so, he must do that as well.

Merlin sighed and nodded. "I will do it."

A ghost smile lit up in Leon's face at his acceptance. He understands his friend's reluctance to do so, but the fact that Merlin would have wasted his life in that shoreline, waiting, was just devastating—just waiting endlessly, without end or notice that he would still come back. So, he hid it all in a smile.

"Alright then," Anastasia said, looking at Leon. "We must prepare for his arrangements."

Leon's smile broadened. "And so we must."

"Wait," Merlin said. "What arrangements?"

"Arrangements for your new family—" Dominik said, amused. "—and your alias, of course."

"WHAT?"

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