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for fun and not profit.
Author's note I created this fanfic for the IMDb boards for the FAN FICTION threads on Goblet of Fire, and future instalments will be posted there first until I fill another ten pages of Word.
I've started a bit of a far reaching epic for my next fanfic. Trust me, it is HP related. Let me know what you think. By the way, Briton, is the old spelling of Britain. Some of my history may be a bit dodgy, but hey, its only fanfic, right?
ONE THOUSAND YEARS AGO
The figure watched as the last wisps of black smoke burned upwards from the embers of Avalon. Arthur was dead, he was sure of that much. As were most of the remnants of his order. Mordred had then attempted to plough through Briton, believing the truce that Arthur was offering was a sign of weakness. He was wrong. The Britons were holding Mordred's forces back. A herald entered the room.
"Presenting, council to the king, Lord Merlin."
The figure's skin wanted to crawl when he saw Merlin. He was a spell caster, mage, and in the figure's eyes, a heretic. Still, the king had seen something in Merlin, which is why he invited the strange wizard into his service. The old man famously aged backwards, so currently, he appeared to have seen about 30 winters. Still, despite his youth, his hair and beard remained snow white.
"Grey Knight." Said Merlin with a bow.
"Hail." Was all the figure could offer. Grey knight was a name he had been given by Arthur shortly before he was added to the round table and he departed for his foolhardy mission of peace.
"What brings you here, old man." Said the Knight, barely able to contain his contempt.
"I forsee events that will take place in but a moment that shall shape the future of this isle, and all other isles, for centuries to come, o Knight."
Camelot in ruins, Avalon raised to the ground, and the old fool still twitters about events of the future. He felt anger towards his king, whose only folly was allowing this heretic to continue to exist at the sufferance of the rest of man.
Suddenly the doors to the makeshift audience chamber opened, and in stepped a beaten soldier. His armour was bloodied, his hair was matted with blood, and across his dirt smudged face was a makeshift bandage.
"Dales? Is that... is that you." He turned from the window and went to aid his childhood friend whom Arthur had made Thane of the Dales.
"Aye. Tis I, majesty. I am the last to return from..." his voice trailed off.
Merlin stepped forward in a way the Grey Knight had seen a hundred other times in Arthur's court. Before Grey could stop him, he shook Dales by the shoulders.
"Speak. What of your king?"
Dales shook his head, the grief obvious in his gesture. "Slain." Merlin shook him again.
"The blade, what of the blade Excalibur?"
Dales opened and closed his mouth, grief threatening to consume him utterly. That was enough. His grey eyes clouding with rage, Grey pushed Merlin out of the way.
"Enough, foolish sage. The King is Dead, Avalon is in ruins. Ours is no longer a time for heirlooms"
Merlin was quick to snake out of Grey's grip, and he pushed him down.
"No!" said Merlin. "Excalibur must be found. It is the sword that is destined to unite the isles of Briton and the lands beyond. Your leige's work must be continued!" There was a wildness behind Merlin's bright blue eyes that the Grey Knight may have found intimidating, but the grief over Arthur's death, and the destruction of the city of Avalon and Camelot only left an angry hole in his heart.
"No, you listen." Said the Grey Knight, striking the wizard down. "After the Romans were vanquished, a stable alliance was formed between the tribal Britons, but you snuck into the ear of Arthur, convincing him to trust the lives of his people into attempting to unify the lands into one, and earning us the ire of the other lords."
"But Excalibur was given to Arthur..." began Merlin.
"By a lake dwelling witch. Excalibur is a magical trinket, nothing more, bewitching the weak minded, and it deserves to be displayed on the mantle of a lowly soldier of the enemy."
Merlin rubbed a bloody lip with the back of his hand. "Think of the words you speak man, that Sword was a symbol of thy Kingdom!"
The Grey Knight reached down and dragged Merlin towards the window, showing him the burnt husk in the distance that was once Camelot.
"That Kingom is now dead, dead because of faith in magic. I rule what is left, and Magic from this day shalt be considered heresy."
Merlin backed away. "Grey Knight, I beseech you."
"No, I am not a Grey Knight, I am just a knight, and Lord of Briton. My title is... Lord Protector Mugglesby."
Mugglesby felt relief at using his own name instead of the fanciful titles that Arthur distributed across his round table.
"Hearald..." he called. He wanted Merlin to see this before he fled. Promptly, the herald marched into the room.
"Let it be known by all Britons it is a trust in the fleeting nature of magic that led Arthur King of Britons, to his grave, and I shall not allow that to happen again. From this day forward any magic be it to slay a man or to weave a loom is to be considered heresy. Anyone suspected of taking part in heresy is to be tested. If they are found to be guilty they shall be burned until death. Any magical creature in their possession will also be slaughtered, and all magical artefacts shall be destroyed or buried."
Merlin merely gasped as he realised the dark fate involved for magical folk all over the isles set in then he turned and ran.
Dales went to catch him but Mugglesby reached out and stopped him with his arm.
"No." he said. "Let him run. Let his frantic cries of panic fill the hearts of every heretic there is. Let him watch as every shred of his world is destroyed as he allowed every shred of ours to be."
He reached down and picked up the soot-covered copper crown that was one of the few relics rescued from Camelot. He dusted it off, and set it on his balding head.
"Briton now belongs to the people of Mugglesby."
Two years later 8 year old Salazar Slytherin struggled in the arms of Moag, his father's best friend. "Hush lad, your mother wanted us to keep yer safe."
He could only watch as the angry mob jabbed his parents with pitchforks and sticks. Finally the strumming of a loud drum stopped the noise as they all parted for the town elder.
"Hear ye... hear ye..." said the old man. "Gregor Slytherin, thy hast allowed thyself to take a witch as thy wife. Thy has been sentenced to Death. Prudence Slytherin, thy used thy foul magic in an attempt to corrupt Doreena Dursliegh, thy-"
"The girl had a broken arm!" she pleaded. The Elder gave her a gloved back hand.
"The words of the heretic shall not bewitch our fair town." There was a roar of approval from the mob. "Thy sentence, as decreed by our Lord Protector, is to burn."
There was rapturous applause as the huddled masses began to douse them in oil.
"Moag Braven!" exclaimed a shrill female voice. "What on earth are you doing letting the poor boy watch while that rabble of Muggle's folk kill his mother and father!" "But the boy insisted!" said Moag.
"Moag, if your going to raise the lad, you're going to have to understand that just because a lad insists on doing something doesn't mean you let him. Go on, the pair of you, back into the cellar."
As Salazar listened to the muffled screams of his parents, and cheers of the crowd, he made a silent oath that one day, the skills that his mother had taught him would make sure that a magical person would never have to suffer again.
20 years later
Lord Robin Ravenclaw awoke. Another long day awaited him as thane of Sherwood. He dressed and walked down the cold stone steps connected his private halls with the rest of his castle. Waiting for him, was a rat faced messenger.
"Greetings my Lord. I bring word from the Lord High Protector." He handed him a piece of parchment. It was the message Ravenclaw had been fearing for 21 years.
"Heresy continues to thrive, many choose to harbour heretics, purely because of blood. Therefore, I now decree that all lands shall have a Witch Hunter, that will be charged with finding any and all heretics and artefacts of heresy that cross between their borders. To the shire of Sherwood, I assign Witch Hunter Cornelius Snape. It is my decree that only I can order where the Witch Hunter may or may not tread."
He wanted to tear up the parchment right then and there, instead he merely dismissed the guard. Suddenly, everything around him went black and a booming voice spoke from around him.
"They're coming for her, aren't they?"
"I am a lord of Briton, he would not defy me."
"Fool! The Hunter will look for her specifically!" boomed the voice,. Ravenclaw knew the voice as that of Lord Merlin. He tended to avoid appearing in public since a) he was wanted for heresy and b) looked like a ten year old boy. Instead, he chose to communicate in visions and dreams, where he could not be seen.
"How do you know this?" he asked.
"The Witch Hunters. They are what they hunt, it is why they are able to find their prey so easily. They are actually agents of the enemy. Their interrogations are merely threats. Join their ranks, or die. And their master, or rather mistress, is Morgana Le Fey."
He winced. Morgana Le Fey was the mother of his only child, Rowena. Their union didn't last. After giving birth, she revealed that she was actually a mage. She wanted him to raise an army to protect them from Mugglesby's forces. Instead, he suggested they keep living with him in secret. She howled, with rage, and in that instant, Mugglesby saw his wife for what she had truly been. She fled, leaving him with his daughter.
"Alright, old man, what should I do?" he said at last.
"I have a safe haven." Said Merlin. "It is in the land of the Scots. There a barriers around it that fool mugglesfolk and others into thinking its something that it isn't. It is called Hogsmeade tower. You must get her there."
"We shall be there as fast as my horse can bear us, Lord Wizard." Ravenclaw said.
"No!" Merlin boomed. "In your absence, the Hunter would suspect deeds are afoot. You must find a soldier who is both noble and true to see that this quest is carried out."
Merlin's voice faded out, and Raven claw sat at his desk and began to frantically scribble an order.
Lord Protector Mugglesby sat on his throne, signing death warrants. 2 heretics had turned themselves in the hope of mercy. How foolish they were. He hadn't been at a live burning in years. Frankly, he was beginning to regret letting the wizard Merlin escape. His death would have been most entertaining. There was a knock on the door.
"Enter." Commanded the red haired ruler.
Through the door stepped the head Demon Hunter, Malfoye. His face was long and thin, and his eyes lacked any kind of warmth whatsoever. It was not a trait that Mugglesby frowned upon. After all, warmth would mean that mercy would come that little bit easier to him. He wore black, when he pulled up the hood of his robes, he could blend into the dark night easily
"My Lord... the final Hunter has been dispatched to Sherwood, as per your instructions."
"Splendid," said Mugglesby. "I had heard some interesting rumours from my spies among the common folk about that place."
"Rumours?" asked Malfoye, inching closer. "Perhaps its something that could aid us in our hunts."
Mugglesby didn't want to reveal his sources, or his knowledge. Frankly he didn't trust the Demon Hunters, but when Malfoye came to him 2 weeks after he became Lord Protector, the offer of a hunter of heretics was too tempting to turn down. Since he allowed Malfoye to find recruits, 200 heretics, and 300 collaborators had been eliminated. Still, he had his suspicions that the Hunters were using the very same dark arts used by their prey. Once the heretics were eradicated, he would deal with the Hunters
"Hardly. Merely the drunken rants of a tavern, nothing that bares discussion in a place such as this, when I learn of Hunter Snape's findings, I will share the rumours if they are true."
Malfoye bowed. "As you wish, milord. If I may ask, why am I summoned?"
"I grow tired of the wait for Merlin. His world is crumbling, now he has seen his world burn, I think we can be rid of him now. To that end, I am going to give a Knighthood to any, be they from the richest castle, the poorest slum, or even among your number, who bring me the head of the Wizard."
Malfoy grabbed Mugglesbly by the tunic and held him close. "No... it is not for some common folk to..." he stopped, and politely let Mugglesby go.
"Forgive me my Lord, but you know not of the danger you speak. When Merlin dies, the dark power within him will escape, and destroy every man, woman and child near to him."
"And how do you know of this, Hunter?" his suspicions about the order were fed like the flames of a fire.
"Well... the founder of our order, read a forbidden text a century ago, it was there he saw the dark future of Merlin. He plucked out his eyes in repentance, and created the order. He shared the knowledge with us, and we continue his work."
"I see..." said Mugglesby. Perhaps these Hunters weren't as much trouble as he thought. "Very well... when you find Merlin, bring him to me in chains... then we will throw him into the river, where he shall drown at the bottom, and will not affect anyone with his dark power."
"It shall be done, my Lord." Said Malfoye.
Malfoye returned to his primative hovel. He reached for a handful of Floo powder and spoke. "Azkaban castle." In an exposion of green he found himself standing in the newly built castle of his Queen, Morgana La Fey. The castle was much more ornate than the functional lair of Mugglesby. Designs of serpents and other reptiles adorned the walls.
"What brings you here un summoned?" Boomed a female voice from all around him.
"It's Mugglesby, majesty. He was about to put a prize on Merlin's head... the one who would bring it to him would receive a knighthood."
"NO!" Malfoye felt the queen's anger shake the room. He raised his hands and tried to speak above the deep rumbling from the small island.
"I talked him down... I fed him lies about the beginning of the Order I'm supposed to belong to. I told him that to kill Merlin would be to unleash a force that will kill all present at the time of death."
The anger subsided, just a tad. "Very well. Know this, when Merlin dies, he must be in my presence ALONE!"
Lord Ravenclaw sat in his courtyard as he considered his future. In the next few mintues, he would put the lives of his daughter and a young knave in danger. Not to mention by taking this course of action, he was betraying the Lord High Protector of Briton. His thoughts were interrupted by the 'clank clank clank' of metal on stone. He turned, and saw Squire Godric Griffyndor, a young man with the potential to become one of the greatest knights the land of Briton had ever seen. He had wild black hair, yet in his blue eyes was a nobility that would travel down his bloodline for generations. .
"You called for me Milord?" asked the warrior.
"Yes. I have a quest for you... but it is frought with danger." Ravenclaw said with a sigh.
"Milord, you gave me a seat in your house when other lords turned me away. I would lay down my own life, should you ask me to."
Ravenclaw sighed as he watched a flock of birds pass overhead. The young Griffyndor reminded him so much of himself at that age it was uncanny. Perhaps if he lacked so much of his openmindedness as a youth, then he would not be in this situation today.
As it stood, Griffyndor was the best man for the job. He was young, yet he was a formidable warrior. He had been under the command of Hagrid, and already his influence was beginning to show. He was just as selfless as the head of Ravenclaw's house guard, and in an ideal world, Ravenclaw would have sent Hagrid. But his position was almost as important as Ravenclaw's own, and his continued absence would be a reminder that something was wrong. As it stood, Griffyndor was just like Hagrid. He lacked ambition, and his only eagerness was his loyalty.
"And your loyalty will be rewarded." Said Ravenclaw at last. "It is a dark time. I trust you are aware of our Lord Protector's views on magic folk."
Griffyndor seemed to twitch. "Aye, that I am, Lord. Perhaps he knows best."
Ravenclaw smiled. Griffyndor was being diplomatic, a quality that would serve him well if he were truly to become a Knight.
"Speak your heart, upon my lands I swear I will not share what you tell me."
Godric seemed to relax, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders
"I believe that Mugglesby is a fool, Sir. If it were not for Merlin and the Lady, I doubt that Arthur would have been able to make the Kingdom what it is today. Plus magical folk are key parts of the lineage of all free men. To destroy them would be to destroy ourselves."
"You are a wise man, Squire Griffyndor. Now, I am to tell you a secret. In return for keeping yours, I trust you will keep mine, even from Sir Hagrid?"
"Till my dying day, Sir." Godric replied.
"You are correct... to deny magic folk, would be to deny ourselves. Their qualities are our own, both for better or worse" He stood up again. "I confess... I have lied. My wife, Lady Morgana did not die after childbirth. She was in fact, a witch."
Godric's eyes widened. He wanted to sit, but his sense of duty forbade him until asked by his superior. "I had heard talk of a terrible shriek upon the death of her ladyship, but I thought it the talk of drunken washer women, nothing more."
"That shriek." Ravenclaw said. "Was my wife howling in defeat. She was as bitter and evil as Mugglesby. She wished to oppress our kind. She hoped to use Rowena as a bargaining chip, by revealing her true lineage, and bearing in mind Mugglesby's laws, which were new back then, she hoped I would raise an army to overthrow him and rule in his stead."
Godric paused. "So, you rejected her?"
Ravenclaw nodded. "Aye. For her to create a life with me, just to ensure that I will fight for her revolted me. I hid Rowena and cast Morgana out of my kingdom. I put forth the rumour that she had died in childbirth simply to make sure that if she ever set foot in the kingdom again, she would be cast out as unnatural under Mugglesby's law. In that one shriek, I saw contempt, cruelty and a coldness that I never imagined possible. All opposite to the honour, kindness and warmth I see when I look at Rowena. Which is where you come in."
"You have only to name the task, Lord."
"I do not command... I ask. Godric, my wife created the Witch Hunters. It is they who entice others into their number. Serve her, or die under the orders of Mugglesby. When their numbers are big enough, and when all noble mages have been eliminated, then they will move, covering the lands in a darkness too great and terrible to imagine. Mugglesby has dispatched a Witch Hunter to our Shire."
Godric straightened and drew his sword. "My blade stained with his treacherous blood shall be the last thing he sees."
Ravenclaw put a hand on Godric's sword arm. "I bid your blade sheathed. The Hunters are dark mages. As soon as they caught but a glimmer of your intent, you would be dead. No, I need you to take custody of my daughter, Rowena. I ask of you to take her to a magic folk haven in the lands of the Scots. Do this for me, and you can name your price upon your return."
Godric bowed.
"I merely ask the opportunity to continue in thy service, my Lord."
"You realise that if any men loyal to Mugglesby capture you, you may have to fight, even kill them?"
"To continue to accept the foolhardy orders of Mugglesby is a crime. I give you my word, fair Lady Rowena shall arrive in this haven of which you speak, safe and sound."
Rowena Ravenclaw was livid. Her father had just told her that she must abandon her life, and her friends and run off with some lowly squire on a mission to rendezvous with a lowly wizard.
"Well, this is simply inappropriate." She said at last. "The very idea that I must suddenly go on some long winded adventure... and that I must go so, understaffed."
She finished her thought by clenching her fists and growling. Her father put his hand through his long grey black hair has he tried to think of a diplomatic way to put this.
"Rowena... you have magical blood in you veins. If I send out a massive expedition so suddenly, questions will be asked, and you life will be in peril. You must go to Merlin. Only there can you be safe." She sighed, remembering the young man who would often visit them when she was young. He had a tremendous power within him. Of course!
"Father, why doesn't he bring me to him through magics?"
Her father shook his head. "He is on the verge of death. It is taking all his power to stay beyond the veil. Now please, I have never commanded you to do anything, please do not make me command you now."
Godric was stunned as Rowena Ravenclaw made her way down the steps of the tower. Clad in a purple dress that, along with her black hair, framed her long mysterious face. Her blue eyes looked him up and down when she reached the bottom of the stair.
"You're Squire Gryffindor?" she asked. Godric could only nod mutely, he was so captivated by her beauty.
"Do you have a tongue in that head?" she snapped.
"Er... yes, I'm him, or he's me." He stammered.
"I liked you better when you were mute." She said. Gryffindor felt a surge of impatience at this woman's anger.
"Begging your pardon." Said Gryffindor, beginning to see her in the sobering light of day. "But that dress won't do for riding."
Rowena loaded her equipment onto her horse, not paying any attention to Gryffindor, at least not at first. He went to help her and she waved him off. "If I am to travel like a peasant on their way to market, then at least I should dress like I have breeding."
Gryffindor sighed. This was going to be a very long journey.
Helga Hufflepuff wretched as the deadly oil was poured over her. She had long finished pleading for her life – she knew that salvation would not be coming from these servants of the Mugglefolk. Instead, the best thing she could do was hope to burn quickly.
She was not a powerful witch, at least she didn't think she was. All she did was use her power to provide a roof over her sick grandmother's rotten old hovel, and now she had been captured in her sleep and tied to this post, waiting to be burnt to a crisp. There was a whoop from the crowd as Witch Hunter Goyle made his way to the front. The fat odious man, unrolled a piece of parchment. His oily forehead frowned in an expression of the deepest concentration.
"By, um, er, or or order, of... Lord Muj Mog, oh, Mugglesby. This, Herit Horat... oh sod it, burn her!"
A whoop went off from the crowd. Suddenly there was a wet slap as a snake landed on his shoulder. Then another Snake landed, then another and soon a torrent of serpents were falling from the sky.
The crowd quickly dispersed, screaming leaving Helga tied to the flammable kindling. Someone from behind her began to untie her bonds.
"Oh no." she said.. They were going to drag her back and probably kill her in some other way.
"Don't concern yourself." Said her benefactor as the last bond was removed. "I'm here to help." She turned around to face her benefactor, he was oily looking, with black matted hair, and cruel little eyes. Yet despite his appearance, the pale man had just saved her life.
"Thank you... they would have killed me."
"It is your own fault for using your magic, especially on a dying normal!" snapped her saviour. He climbed down from the pile of kindling. "And I would deny those that would serve Mugglesby their prize, even if she was a foolish young girl."
She quickly followed. "But what will I do now? I can't go back to my home village, and I have never been this far out of it... you must take me with you."
The figure turned and stared at her with a bitter expression. Helga could sense the rejection coming, when suddenly the stranger's face upturned into a cruel smile which quickly softened into a healthy grin which young Helga found most reassuring.
"My apologies young lady. You are right of course. I need companionship on this journey. Come, let us away to Hogsmeade tower."
She followed him, relieved that she was safe at last. "Hogsmeade? Isn't that in the land of the Scots?"
"Yes, I seek the council of Lord Merlin... I hear he is close to death, and there is something I need from him before he dies."
Helga was stunned at the idea she would be about to meet Merlin. Her Grandmother had told her stories, but she never believed he was still alive. Quickly she looked upon the stranger once more. "I am called Helga Hufflepuff." She said.
"Slytherin." Said her benefactor. "At your service."
Author's note I created this fanfic for the IMDb boards for the FAN FICTION threads on Goblet of Fire, and future instalments will be posted there first until I fill another ten pages of Word.
I've started a bit of a far reaching epic for my next fanfic. Trust me, it is HP related. Let me know what you think. By the way, Briton, is the old spelling of Britain. Some of my history may be a bit dodgy, but hey, its only fanfic, right?
ONE THOUSAND YEARS AGO
The figure watched as the last wisps of black smoke burned upwards from the embers of Avalon. Arthur was dead, he was sure of that much. As were most of the remnants of his order. Mordred had then attempted to plough through Briton, believing the truce that Arthur was offering was a sign of weakness. He was wrong. The Britons were holding Mordred's forces back. A herald entered the room.
"Presenting, council to the king, Lord Merlin."
The figure's skin wanted to crawl when he saw Merlin. He was a spell caster, mage, and in the figure's eyes, a heretic. Still, the king had seen something in Merlin, which is why he invited the strange wizard into his service. The old man famously aged backwards, so currently, he appeared to have seen about 30 winters. Still, despite his youth, his hair and beard remained snow white.
"Grey Knight." Said Merlin with a bow.
"Hail." Was all the figure could offer. Grey knight was a name he had been given by Arthur shortly before he was added to the round table and he departed for his foolhardy mission of peace.
"What brings you here, old man." Said the Knight, barely able to contain his contempt.
"I forsee events that will take place in but a moment that shall shape the future of this isle, and all other isles, for centuries to come, o Knight."
Camelot in ruins, Avalon raised to the ground, and the old fool still twitters about events of the future. He felt anger towards his king, whose only folly was allowing this heretic to continue to exist at the sufferance of the rest of man.
Suddenly the doors to the makeshift audience chamber opened, and in stepped a beaten soldier. His armour was bloodied, his hair was matted with blood, and across his dirt smudged face was a makeshift bandage.
"Dales? Is that... is that you." He turned from the window and went to aid his childhood friend whom Arthur had made Thane of the Dales.
"Aye. Tis I, majesty. I am the last to return from..." his voice trailed off.
Merlin stepped forward in a way the Grey Knight had seen a hundred other times in Arthur's court. Before Grey could stop him, he shook Dales by the shoulders.
"Speak. What of your king?"
Dales shook his head, the grief obvious in his gesture. "Slain." Merlin shook him again.
"The blade, what of the blade Excalibur?"
Dales opened and closed his mouth, grief threatening to consume him utterly. That was enough. His grey eyes clouding with rage, Grey pushed Merlin out of the way.
"Enough, foolish sage. The King is Dead, Avalon is in ruins. Ours is no longer a time for heirlooms"
Merlin was quick to snake out of Grey's grip, and he pushed him down.
"No!" said Merlin. "Excalibur must be found. It is the sword that is destined to unite the isles of Briton and the lands beyond. Your leige's work must be continued!" There was a wildness behind Merlin's bright blue eyes that the Grey Knight may have found intimidating, but the grief over Arthur's death, and the destruction of the city of Avalon and Camelot only left an angry hole in his heart.
"No, you listen." Said the Grey Knight, striking the wizard down. "After the Romans were vanquished, a stable alliance was formed between the tribal Britons, but you snuck into the ear of Arthur, convincing him to trust the lives of his people into attempting to unify the lands into one, and earning us the ire of the other lords."
"But Excalibur was given to Arthur..." began Merlin.
"By a lake dwelling witch. Excalibur is a magical trinket, nothing more, bewitching the weak minded, and it deserves to be displayed on the mantle of a lowly soldier of the enemy."
Merlin rubbed a bloody lip with the back of his hand. "Think of the words you speak man, that Sword was a symbol of thy Kingdom!"
The Grey Knight reached down and dragged Merlin towards the window, showing him the burnt husk in the distance that was once Camelot.
"That Kingom is now dead, dead because of faith in magic. I rule what is left, and Magic from this day shalt be considered heresy."
Merlin backed away. "Grey Knight, I beseech you."
"No, I am not a Grey Knight, I am just a knight, and Lord of Briton. My title is... Lord Protector Mugglesby."
Mugglesby felt relief at using his own name instead of the fanciful titles that Arthur distributed across his round table.
"Hearald..." he called. He wanted Merlin to see this before he fled. Promptly, the herald marched into the room.
"Let it be known by all Britons it is a trust in the fleeting nature of magic that led Arthur King of Britons, to his grave, and I shall not allow that to happen again. From this day forward any magic be it to slay a man or to weave a loom is to be considered heresy. Anyone suspected of taking part in heresy is to be tested. If they are found to be guilty they shall be burned until death. Any magical creature in their possession will also be slaughtered, and all magical artefacts shall be destroyed or buried."
Merlin merely gasped as he realised the dark fate involved for magical folk all over the isles set in then he turned and ran.
Dales went to catch him but Mugglesby reached out and stopped him with his arm.
"No." he said. "Let him run. Let his frantic cries of panic fill the hearts of every heretic there is. Let him watch as every shred of his world is destroyed as he allowed every shred of ours to be."
He reached down and picked up the soot-covered copper crown that was one of the few relics rescued from Camelot. He dusted it off, and set it on his balding head.
"Briton now belongs to the people of Mugglesby."
Two years later 8 year old Salazar Slytherin struggled in the arms of Moag, his father's best friend. "Hush lad, your mother wanted us to keep yer safe."
He could only watch as the angry mob jabbed his parents with pitchforks and sticks. Finally the strumming of a loud drum stopped the noise as they all parted for the town elder.
"Hear ye... hear ye..." said the old man. "Gregor Slytherin, thy hast allowed thyself to take a witch as thy wife. Thy has been sentenced to Death. Prudence Slytherin, thy used thy foul magic in an attempt to corrupt Doreena Dursliegh, thy-"
"The girl had a broken arm!" she pleaded. The Elder gave her a gloved back hand.
"The words of the heretic shall not bewitch our fair town." There was a roar of approval from the mob. "Thy sentence, as decreed by our Lord Protector, is to burn."
There was rapturous applause as the huddled masses began to douse them in oil.
"Moag Braven!" exclaimed a shrill female voice. "What on earth are you doing letting the poor boy watch while that rabble of Muggle's folk kill his mother and father!" "But the boy insisted!" said Moag.
"Moag, if your going to raise the lad, you're going to have to understand that just because a lad insists on doing something doesn't mean you let him. Go on, the pair of you, back into the cellar."
As Salazar listened to the muffled screams of his parents, and cheers of the crowd, he made a silent oath that one day, the skills that his mother had taught him would make sure that a magical person would never have to suffer again.
20 years later
Lord Robin Ravenclaw awoke. Another long day awaited him as thane of Sherwood. He dressed and walked down the cold stone steps connected his private halls with the rest of his castle. Waiting for him, was a rat faced messenger.
"Greetings my Lord. I bring word from the Lord High Protector." He handed him a piece of parchment. It was the message Ravenclaw had been fearing for 21 years.
"Heresy continues to thrive, many choose to harbour heretics, purely because of blood. Therefore, I now decree that all lands shall have a Witch Hunter, that will be charged with finding any and all heretics and artefacts of heresy that cross between their borders. To the shire of Sherwood, I assign Witch Hunter Cornelius Snape. It is my decree that only I can order where the Witch Hunter may or may not tread."
He wanted to tear up the parchment right then and there, instead he merely dismissed the guard. Suddenly, everything around him went black and a booming voice spoke from around him.
"They're coming for her, aren't they?"
"I am a lord of Briton, he would not defy me."
"Fool! The Hunter will look for her specifically!" boomed the voice,. Ravenclaw knew the voice as that of Lord Merlin. He tended to avoid appearing in public since a) he was wanted for heresy and b) looked like a ten year old boy. Instead, he chose to communicate in visions and dreams, where he could not be seen.
"How do you know this?" he asked.
"The Witch Hunters. They are what they hunt, it is why they are able to find their prey so easily. They are actually agents of the enemy. Their interrogations are merely threats. Join their ranks, or die. And their master, or rather mistress, is Morgana Le Fey."
He winced. Morgana Le Fey was the mother of his only child, Rowena. Their union didn't last. After giving birth, she revealed that she was actually a mage. She wanted him to raise an army to protect them from Mugglesby's forces. Instead, he suggested they keep living with him in secret. She howled, with rage, and in that instant, Mugglesby saw his wife for what she had truly been. She fled, leaving him with his daughter.
"Alright, old man, what should I do?" he said at last.
"I have a safe haven." Said Merlin. "It is in the land of the Scots. There a barriers around it that fool mugglesfolk and others into thinking its something that it isn't. It is called Hogsmeade tower. You must get her there."
"We shall be there as fast as my horse can bear us, Lord Wizard." Ravenclaw said.
"No!" Merlin boomed. "In your absence, the Hunter would suspect deeds are afoot. You must find a soldier who is both noble and true to see that this quest is carried out."
Merlin's voice faded out, and Raven claw sat at his desk and began to frantically scribble an order.
Lord Protector Mugglesby sat on his throne, signing death warrants. 2 heretics had turned themselves in the hope of mercy. How foolish they were. He hadn't been at a live burning in years. Frankly, he was beginning to regret letting the wizard Merlin escape. His death would have been most entertaining. There was a knock on the door.
"Enter." Commanded the red haired ruler.
Through the door stepped the head Demon Hunter, Malfoye. His face was long and thin, and his eyes lacked any kind of warmth whatsoever. It was not a trait that Mugglesby frowned upon. After all, warmth would mean that mercy would come that little bit easier to him. He wore black, when he pulled up the hood of his robes, he could blend into the dark night easily
"My Lord... the final Hunter has been dispatched to Sherwood, as per your instructions."
"Splendid," said Mugglesby. "I had heard some interesting rumours from my spies among the common folk about that place."
"Rumours?" asked Malfoye, inching closer. "Perhaps its something that could aid us in our hunts."
Mugglesby didn't want to reveal his sources, or his knowledge. Frankly he didn't trust the Demon Hunters, but when Malfoye came to him 2 weeks after he became Lord Protector, the offer of a hunter of heretics was too tempting to turn down. Since he allowed Malfoye to find recruits, 200 heretics, and 300 collaborators had been eliminated. Still, he had his suspicions that the Hunters were using the very same dark arts used by their prey. Once the heretics were eradicated, he would deal with the Hunters
"Hardly. Merely the drunken rants of a tavern, nothing that bares discussion in a place such as this, when I learn of Hunter Snape's findings, I will share the rumours if they are true."
Malfoye bowed. "As you wish, milord. If I may ask, why am I summoned?"
"I grow tired of the wait for Merlin. His world is crumbling, now he has seen his world burn, I think we can be rid of him now. To that end, I am going to give a Knighthood to any, be they from the richest castle, the poorest slum, or even among your number, who bring me the head of the Wizard."
Malfoy grabbed Mugglesbly by the tunic and held him close. "No... it is not for some common folk to..." he stopped, and politely let Mugglesby go.
"Forgive me my Lord, but you know not of the danger you speak. When Merlin dies, the dark power within him will escape, and destroy every man, woman and child near to him."
"And how do you know of this, Hunter?" his suspicions about the order were fed like the flames of a fire.
"Well... the founder of our order, read a forbidden text a century ago, it was there he saw the dark future of Merlin. He plucked out his eyes in repentance, and created the order. He shared the knowledge with us, and we continue his work."
"I see..." said Mugglesby. Perhaps these Hunters weren't as much trouble as he thought. "Very well... when you find Merlin, bring him to me in chains... then we will throw him into the river, where he shall drown at the bottom, and will not affect anyone with his dark power."
"It shall be done, my Lord." Said Malfoye.
Malfoye returned to his primative hovel. He reached for a handful of Floo powder and spoke. "Azkaban castle." In an exposion of green he found himself standing in the newly built castle of his Queen, Morgana La Fey. The castle was much more ornate than the functional lair of Mugglesby. Designs of serpents and other reptiles adorned the walls.
"What brings you here un summoned?" Boomed a female voice from all around him.
"It's Mugglesby, majesty. He was about to put a prize on Merlin's head... the one who would bring it to him would receive a knighthood."
"NO!" Malfoye felt the queen's anger shake the room. He raised his hands and tried to speak above the deep rumbling from the small island.
"I talked him down... I fed him lies about the beginning of the Order I'm supposed to belong to. I told him that to kill Merlin would be to unleash a force that will kill all present at the time of death."
The anger subsided, just a tad. "Very well. Know this, when Merlin dies, he must be in my presence ALONE!"
Lord Ravenclaw sat in his courtyard as he considered his future. In the next few mintues, he would put the lives of his daughter and a young knave in danger. Not to mention by taking this course of action, he was betraying the Lord High Protector of Briton. His thoughts were interrupted by the 'clank clank clank' of metal on stone. He turned, and saw Squire Godric Griffyndor, a young man with the potential to become one of the greatest knights the land of Briton had ever seen. He had wild black hair, yet in his blue eyes was a nobility that would travel down his bloodline for generations. .
"You called for me Milord?" asked the warrior.
"Yes. I have a quest for you... but it is frought with danger." Ravenclaw said with a sigh.
"Milord, you gave me a seat in your house when other lords turned me away. I would lay down my own life, should you ask me to."
Ravenclaw sighed as he watched a flock of birds pass overhead. The young Griffyndor reminded him so much of himself at that age it was uncanny. Perhaps if he lacked so much of his openmindedness as a youth, then he would not be in this situation today.
As it stood, Griffyndor was the best man for the job. He was young, yet he was a formidable warrior. He had been under the command of Hagrid, and already his influence was beginning to show. He was just as selfless as the head of Ravenclaw's house guard, and in an ideal world, Ravenclaw would have sent Hagrid. But his position was almost as important as Ravenclaw's own, and his continued absence would be a reminder that something was wrong. As it stood, Griffyndor was just like Hagrid. He lacked ambition, and his only eagerness was his loyalty.
"And your loyalty will be rewarded." Said Ravenclaw at last. "It is a dark time. I trust you are aware of our Lord Protector's views on magic folk."
Griffyndor seemed to twitch. "Aye, that I am, Lord. Perhaps he knows best."
Ravenclaw smiled. Griffyndor was being diplomatic, a quality that would serve him well if he were truly to become a Knight.
"Speak your heart, upon my lands I swear I will not share what you tell me."
Godric seemed to relax, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders
"I believe that Mugglesby is a fool, Sir. If it were not for Merlin and the Lady, I doubt that Arthur would have been able to make the Kingdom what it is today. Plus magical folk are key parts of the lineage of all free men. To destroy them would be to destroy ourselves."
"You are a wise man, Squire Griffyndor. Now, I am to tell you a secret. In return for keeping yours, I trust you will keep mine, even from Sir Hagrid?"
"Till my dying day, Sir." Godric replied.
"You are correct... to deny magic folk, would be to deny ourselves. Their qualities are our own, both for better or worse" He stood up again. "I confess... I have lied. My wife, Lady Morgana did not die after childbirth. She was in fact, a witch."
Godric's eyes widened. He wanted to sit, but his sense of duty forbade him until asked by his superior. "I had heard talk of a terrible shriek upon the death of her ladyship, but I thought it the talk of drunken washer women, nothing more."
"That shriek." Ravenclaw said. "Was my wife howling in defeat. She was as bitter and evil as Mugglesby. She wished to oppress our kind. She hoped to use Rowena as a bargaining chip, by revealing her true lineage, and bearing in mind Mugglesby's laws, which were new back then, she hoped I would raise an army to overthrow him and rule in his stead."
Godric paused. "So, you rejected her?"
Ravenclaw nodded. "Aye. For her to create a life with me, just to ensure that I will fight for her revolted me. I hid Rowena and cast Morgana out of my kingdom. I put forth the rumour that she had died in childbirth simply to make sure that if she ever set foot in the kingdom again, she would be cast out as unnatural under Mugglesby's law. In that one shriek, I saw contempt, cruelty and a coldness that I never imagined possible. All opposite to the honour, kindness and warmth I see when I look at Rowena. Which is where you come in."
"You have only to name the task, Lord."
"I do not command... I ask. Godric, my wife created the Witch Hunters. It is they who entice others into their number. Serve her, or die under the orders of Mugglesby. When their numbers are big enough, and when all noble mages have been eliminated, then they will move, covering the lands in a darkness too great and terrible to imagine. Mugglesby has dispatched a Witch Hunter to our Shire."
Godric straightened and drew his sword. "My blade stained with his treacherous blood shall be the last thing he sees."
Ravenclaw put a hand on Godric's sword arm. "I bid your blade sheathed. The Hunters are dark mages. As soon as they caught but a glimmer of your intent, you would be dead. No, I need you to take custody of my daughter, Rowena. I ask of you to take her to a magic folk haven in the lands of the Scots. Do this for me, and you can name your price upon your return."
Godric bowed.
"I merely ask the opportunity to continue in thy service, my Lord."
"You realise that if any men loyal to Mugglesby capture you, you may have to fight, even kill them?"
"To continue to accept the foolhardy orders of Mugglesby is a crime. I give you my word, fair Lady Rowena shall arrive in this haven of which you speak, safe and sound."
Rowena Ravenclaw was livid. Her father had just told her that she must abandon her life, and her friends and run off with some lowly squire on a mission to rendezvous with a lowly wizard.
"Well, this is simply inappropriate." She said at last. "The very idea that I must suddenly go on some long winded adventure... and that I must go so, understaffed."
She finished her thought by clenching her fists and growling. Her father put his hand through his long grey black hair has he tried to think of a diplomatic way to put this.
"Rowena... you have magical blood in you veins. If I send out a massive expedition so suddenly, questions will be asked, and you life will be in peril. You must go to Merlin. Only there can you be safe." She sighed, remembering the young man who would often visit them when she was young. He had a tremendous power within him. Of course!
"Father, why doesn't he bring me to him through magics?"
Her father shook his head. "He is on the verge of death. It is taking all his power to stay beyond the veil. Now please, I have never commanded you to do anything, please do not make me command you now."
Godric was stunned as Rowena Ravenclaw made her way down the steps of the tower. Clad in a purple dress that, along with her black hair, framed her long mysterious face. Her blue eyes looked him up and down when she reached the bottom of the stair.
"You're Squire Gryffindor?" she asked. Godric could only nod mutely, he was so captivated by her beauty.
"Do you have a tongue in that head?" she snapped.
"Er... yes, I'm him, or he's me." He stammered.
"I liked you better when you were mute." She said. Gryffindor felt a surge of impatience at this woman's anger.
"Begging your pardon." Said Gryffindor, beginning to see her in the sobering light of day. "But that dress won't do for riding."
Rowena loaded her equipment onto her horse, not paying any attention to Gryffindor, at least not at first. He went to help her and she waved him off. "If I am to travel like a peasant on their way to market, then at least I should dress like I have breeding."
Gryffindor sighed. This was going to be a very long journey.
Helga Hufflepuff wretched as the deadly oil was poured over her. She had long finished pleading for her life – she knew that salvation would not be coming from these servants of the Mugglefolk. Instead, the best thing she could do was hope to burn quickly.
She was not a powerful witch, at least she didn't think she was. All she did was use her power to provide a roof over her sick grandmother's rotten old hovel, and now she had been captured in her sleep and tied to this post, waiting to be burnt to a crisp. There was a whoop from the crowd as Witch Hunter Goyle made his way to the front. The fat odious man, unrolled a piece of parchment. His oily forehead frowned in an expression of the deepest concentration.
"By, um, er, or or order, of... Lord Muj Mog, oh, Mugglesby. This, Herit Horat... oh sod it, burn her!"
A whoop went off from the crowd. Suddenly there was a wet slap as a snake landed on his shoulder. Then another Snake landed, then another and soon a torrent of serpents were falling from the sky.
The crowd quickly dispersed, screaming leaving Helga tied to the flammable kindling. Someone from behind her began to untie her bonds.
"Oh no." she said.. They were going to drag her back and probably kill her in some other way.
"Don't concern yourself." Said her benefactor as the last bond was removed. "I'm here to help." She turned around to face her benefactor, he was oily looking, with black matted hair, and cruel little eyes. Yet despite his appearance, the pale man had just saved her life.
"Thank you... they would have killed me."
"It is your own fault for using your magic, especially on a dying normal!" snapped her saviour. He climbed down from the pile of kindling. "And I would deny those that would serve Mugglesby their prize, even if she was a foolish young girl."
She quickly followed. "But what will I do now? I can't go back to my home village, and I have never been this far out of it... you must take me with you."
The figure turned and stared at her with a bitter expression. Helga could sense the rejection coming, when suddenly the stranger's face upturned into a cruel smile which quickly softened into a healthy grin which young Helga found most reassuring.
"My apologies young lady. You are right of course. I need companionship on this journey. Come, let us away to Hogsmeade tower."
She followed him, relieved that she was safe at last. "Hogsmeade? Isn't that in the land of the Scots?"
"Yes, I seek the council of Lord Merlin... I hear he is close to death, and there is something I need from him before he dies."
Helga was stunned at the idea she would be about to meet Merlin. Her Grandmother had told her stories, but she never believed he was still alive. Quickly she looked upon the stranger once more. "I am called Helga Hufflepuff." She said.
"Slytherin." Said her benefactor. "At your service."