Wahey! To prove that I am genuinely serious about this whole endeavour (and also, I admit because I was bored) here is the next chapter – which actually consisted of three chapters in the original. I'm already becoming efficient!

I have realised that "Ancient Vices" is a blatant rip off of Teenmuggle's "Ancient Relics" – honestly if you love Merlin x HP crossover stories and you haven't read theirs, you should as it is AMAZING – and now I will change the title. Thank you, Guest for your suggestion. With your help, I can feel the new title on the tip of my tongue – something about in the vice of a prophecy or something, but it's not quite right just yet. I think I'll eat on it! ; )

Thank you to those of you who reviewed Merlin's Guide – XxPurpleAngelofAnarchyxX, Killua Lawliet, Linorien and Guest for your kind words and fevered response. And thank you to Guest, nightgijo, WriterGreenBooks, Guest, as well as all those of you who have already favourite, followed, or added me to a community. Your support is quite frankly, overwhelming (in a good way!) : )

In addition, all hail Next stop willoughby. You are AWESOME

Ancient Vices

Chapter One – The Vessel Awakes

Merlin dreamt.

He had never stopped dreaming, not really. And his dreams had never changed, either. He still wished for magic to be free, in the way that he had never been able to experience, and for his friends and family to be beside him, behind Arthur as the Once and Future King created the Golden Age. But, a millennia ago, that could not be, and slowly, over the centuries, a small part of Merlin that slowly grew in dominance over time no matter how hard he tried to beat it into submission, traitorously whispered that perhaps it would never be. Ever.

But the Warlock refused to dwell on those thoughts, for if he did, he was terrified that he would never recover, that he would be sucked into the deep abyss of his terrifying power, where no light reached him, only darkness. Darkness that he would wield, indiscriminately over all.

It was after Arthur died that the whispering started. Eventually, after what seemed like aeons to the Former Manservant but in reality had only been days, Merlin had returned to Camelot where he gave Gwen the news. Once he found out that Gwaine had died, the Warlock had only waited till his mentor Gaius passed away before disappearing, never to return. Nobody else had needed him, as by then Hunith had passed from the sweating sickness, Gwen had had little Arthur and the remaining knights had gotten married. Merlin had vanished to the Crystal Cave, where he slept for a long time. A really long time, deliberately submerging himself in his memories.

Centauries later, Merlin regretted his actions. He missed Camelot so much that it hurt. And there was little that anyone could do about it. His new friends tried at various points in history to pull him out of his depression but how could they? His best friend, no his soul mate, died in his arms, and he had been so grief stricken that he had pushed his remaining friends and family away, those who understood what he was going through, until it was too late, and they died to. Leaving him to walk alone on the earth, watching their descendents fall like flies no matter how hard he tried to keep them alive whilst he continue to live and thrive.

Eventually, it became a game to him, immortality. A game of manipulation, of twisting people's beliefs, of change. A challenge to himself to see how many he could affect, how many he could inspire, how many he could save.

A game which, no matter how hard he tried, he never won.

The earth trembled beneath him, but Merlin ignored it, instead choosing to continue his dreaming. He had chosen the memory of Uther becoming enchanted by the troll, and even after all this time, it was still highly amusing to see and hear and envisage what the tyrant and the troll got up to in private.

Another tremor, and with it, Merlin heard the screaming.

HELP ME.

His eyes flew open, and he moved fluidly into an instinctive crouch, his battle instinct not dulled doing his long life. He paused, slightly confused to discover that there were no assailants near him, or indeed, within the next hundred miles, and it was with a hint of regret that the lake water which towered above him in a readying strike was laid gently back down into its bed.

MY VESSEL, HEAL ME.

Vessel.

It was the Old Religion. The Triple Goddess was begging with him, pleading with the Warlock, to heal her, to fix the rip torn into her soul, and make her whole once more.

THE BALANCE IS UNEVEN, THE WEIGHTS TOPPLED. RIGHT THE WRONGS THAT REIGN, VESSEL. HEAL ME.

And as Merlin heeded her words, closing his eyes to listen better, his senses slowly became overpowered by the Old Magic, screaming out in pain and in fear and in death as he saw -

"Morgana," Merlin breathed, his brow furrowing and his expression turning dark after he had seen the vision the Goddess had deigned to shove down his throat. "Of course it would be her."

His expression turned wry, his eyes almost dancing with a twisted sort of amusement, which quickly faded as the Triple Goddess spoke again, her voice weaker this time.

Those like her are to be punished for eternity. They were never meant to return to this world.

"I should think so. Those like her don't deserve to. And especially if it is to assist the likes of that thing."

Merlin considered his words after he spoke them aloud. The wraith who identified himself as Voldemort had resurrected Morgana from the dead, to help him create "heaven." But when Morgana was involved, heaven became hell.

Vessel, avenge me.

And what Morgana was involved in, so was he.

But Merlin didn't know about what Voldemort's plans were, or how they entailed. During the last few decades, he had separated himself from the rest of the world, only venturing to civilisation when he was bored. He couldn't risk those whom he had made friendships and acquaintances recognising him in their old age, whilst he had remained untouched by time.

The first, and only time he had heard of the 'Dark Lord' was when he saw he fireworks in the sky, and when new magic seemed to rejoice and the world let out a collective sigh of relief. It was only then that he had become fully aware of the scale of the war – he had tried to stop numerous massacres from happening, but his magic prevented him, as the 'time was not right' apparently.

"And now look at what has happened. All of this could have been prevented, you know, if you had let me join in the war and defeated him instead of making me sit idly by."

The time was not right.

Even though her voice was weaker than he had ever heard her, the Triple Goddess still sternly rebuked the Warlock.

Merlin sighed. The time had never 'seemed right', until it had gone by. Experience had taught him that, but not; it seemed, to the Old Religion, which remained stubborn that he should stay out of it.

"I need information. Answers for the questions we shall seek."

Then go. She whispered.

Merlin hesitated. Here, beside the Isle of the Blest, was the strongest point of Old Magic where he could converse with the Triple Goddess. If he moved, even if it was to another Old Magic site, in her current weakened state she would not be able to contact him, to feel him. And although she was not a particularly benevolent deity, or that they held a close bond, he was still hers as she was his.

Go.

So he did. He went to the one place where he knew he could find answers.

The Crystal Cave.

Diagon Alley was busy this time of year. With just under a fortnight until September, many harried parents were rushed off their feet as they tried to prepare their children for Hogwarts, whilst the children themselves were often so excited they bounced off the walls. Merlin joined the throws of people, but was marked out from the crowd due to being alone.

The Warlock was determined to attend Hogwarts this year. Due to all of his school things, whilst purchased brand new and top of the range at the time, was now nearly a century out of fashion, he had decided to visit the shopping quarter, and to begin the process of immersing himself once more. But mainly, it was to stock up on his reading books. After all, for someone who was immortal, there was nothing better to do then to read and learn.

Smiling sadly, Merlin reflected that the sentiment was one in which his old mentor Gaius would have concurred with. Strange that he now agreed with him, then when he was young and a foolish young boy.

It was clear that Voldemort was determined to kill the boy after he had accidentally mark him as his nemesis, and the easiest way to protect him would be as a fellow student. In addition, the inclusion of Morgana made things a tad more complicated – as a powerful wielder of Old Magic, she would easily be able to tear down the school's wards as if they were made out of paper, and Merlin had to be physically present in order to edit and add to the protections to remedy that possibility. It turned out that he had been in the Crystal Cave for over two weeks, glued to the crystals as they showed him vision after vision in preparation for his return to the Wizarding World. He watched in anger at the massacres which occurred globally within the last fifty years due to the two Wizarding and Muggle World Wars which had reigned, and which he would have been able to prevent with a click of his fingers if only he had known, if he had been allowed.

His sympathy for the Triple Goddess had evaporated then at that revelation, to be replaced with fury at condemning the millions to pain and suffering and death.

Merlin hadn't frequented Diagon Alley since sometime after the death of Queen Victoria, and so he took great enjoyment in "ooohing" and "aaaahing" at all of the new shops, and marvelling at those who had managed to stay running, especially the family owned businesses. Generally behaving like a tourist as he traipsed down the unusual street, which was very reminiscent of the 17th century, he grinned as he observed those of a kindly disposition becoming amused at his antics. But he began to feel slightly disorientated at the hustle and bustle which occurred around him, and the vibrant displays – some of those colours weren't even possibly and conceived by mortal minds when he had last visited – so instead of walking into Gringotts in a dignified manner, he ended up staggering into the entrance after being brushed callously aside, before tripping over somebody's feet and falling flat on his face in the entrance.

"Sorry about that," Merlin started as he stumbled to his feet and began to brush himself down. "Bit of an –"

He looked up then, to find a goblin staring at him distastefully, his lips turned upwards in a half-snarl as he stayed carefully out of the sun's rays.

"- Occupational hazard." Merlin finished lamely. "Ah."

"I see you have returned, Emrys."

"May your quaffers always be blessed with gold, Killjoy. Yes, I have returned."

Despite the Goblin greeting, the expression of distaste remained firmly plastered on Killjoy's face.

"And what do we owe the honour of your presence for?"

"Righting the wrongs that reign."

"Obviously." Killjoy's beetle eyes glittered darkly in some kind of amusement at Merlin's answer as he surveyed him.

Then abruptly, without any further comment, the goblin turned on his heel, and strode back into Gringotts, Merlin automatically following him. Even thought he was a recluse, it didn't mean he didn't have any money. In fact, he was incredibly rich (that's what being immortal gave you) and due to his immortality and his penchant for getting bored, the wealth accumulated rapidly. Subsequently, the goblins were... not kinder, but more respectable towards him (if that was possible), due to his continued patronage.

After acquiring his money and suffering from the awkward silence, Merlin began to make his way around the shops. He stopped in Amanuensis Quills, (where he bought three quills, two ink bottles and a load of parchment to supply him), Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions – "You look very handsome dear!" - before finding himself in the queue for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where after much deliberation, he finally settled for cookies and cream.

The Warlock had to admit, that ice cream was a great muggle invention. The sweets too, had come a long way since the Arthurian times. Now you could get chocolate, lolly pops, donuts... his stomach rumbled at the thought, and he silently promised himself to buy more snacks before returning "home" – if you could call it that.

Groaning after he finished his ice cream (it was that good!), Merlin made his way over to the last three (and consequently his favourite shops) to get the remaining supplies. Surprisingly, he only spent a few minutes in Flourish and Bolts, as he couldn't find any new books to read apart from the textbooks, (which was all incredibly basic stuff).

So as he stood in front of the Apothecary, Merlin felt anticipation. This shop always reminded him of Gauis' room, with all the various remedies and poisons, where bottles were always strewn around the place. However many times they had tried to clean it, it always went back to its untidy look after a few days. Truth be told, Merlin had liked it like that, as it gave it a warm, lived in feel.

"Oi, if you're going in, then move mate!" An annoyed father said.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, shaking his head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts. He only spent a few minutes there, unable to stand being reminded of his former home for a longer length of time. Purchasing a cauldron and various ingredients, he carefully concentrated, before watching the items disappear with a pop! in satisfaction.

The last shop Merlin had to go in was the Magical Menagerie. It was dark in the shop, but the Warlock had keener eyesight then most, so he could easily make his way around. He didn't want a cat or a rat, as they wouldn't carry his mail and besides, every time he looked at a rat, he was reminded of the time he had eaten one due to the famine. He laughed quietly, causing the birds to ruffle their feathers in annoyance.

Standing in front of the perches, he stood completely still, and relaxed. He let his mind wander, as he sensed the birds taking an interest in him.

Suddenly, a bird landed softly onto his shoulder, and opening his eyes, Merlin grinned and looked into the beautiful yellow eyes of the Merlin falcon. It was so ironic that his bird was the species that he was named him after, but it would remind him about his beautiful mother Hunith.

Still grinning, he went to pay for his new bird, and went back outside. Spotting an alley off to the side, he hurried towards it, and went far enough in that he was encased by the shadows. Double checking again to make sure that he had concealed himself from any unwarranted eyes; Merlin took a deep breath and concentrated.

"Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!"

A wind seemed to pick up around him, stirring up the old rubbish. The bird on his shoulder cried out in confusion and shifted nervously, her talons digging into his shoulder. As he open his eyes, they turned a bright shimmering gold, and a few seconds later Merlin vanished.

Merlin stuck out his tongue out as he concentrated on writing the letter to the current Headmaster requesting a transfer to Hogwarts. Pausing at the bottom of the letter, he half turned to look at his bird – he still hadn't got around to naming her – and tickled her underneath her chin.

"What do you think I should be named, exactly?"

She cocked her head, and squawked.

"I'm not entirely sure that can be easily translated," He chuckled, before it turned into a laugh as he saw her irritated glare and clearly audible sigh.

"Merlin, Myrnin, Myrlin, Morlan, and Maerllan –" He broke off as the bird nipped at his ear. "You're right, you're right, they are getting unmindfully complicated aren't they?"

She huffed in agreement.

"Better be Myrddin then."

Signing his new name with a flourish, he concentrated, before poking it hard with his quill. There was a small pop! and then it vanished, hopefully onto the Headmaster's desk at Hogwarts. He didn't particularly care when he received an answer, only that he knew that with the new school year fast approaching, it was likely that the poor sod had mountains of paperwork to deal with.

Merlin settled back down, rolling over to lie on his back and finally let himself relax for the first time since Morgana had been resurrected. The falcon screeched indignantly at the sudden action and she flapped her wings to remain airborne, before settling down on his stomach, glaring at him once before tucking her head underneath her wing, as if she was deliberately ignoring him. The water lapped peacefully at the edge of the lake, the stars beautiful as they burned and reflected. Avalon was peaceful and Merlin was glad – this would likely be one of the last nights he would be able to spend here until this war was over.

War. How he hated it so.

But already, he was better prepared than he had been to face it. Now he knew what made Voldemort tick, what his strengths and his weaknesses were. What his overall objectives were.

And why he wanted Morgana.

But the soon to be last night was quickly approaching, and Avalon was peaceful. And so he let go of all thoughts of the war, and let himself become immersed in his adventures he had shared with a King so long ago.

And so, Merlin dreamt.

There you are the second chapter. My update schedule –bearing in mind I'm using it in the loosest sense of the word – will likely be every Wednesday to Sundayish. I'm free all day Wednesday, and if all my work is done, have little to do on the weekends. However I maintain that it will probably not always be accurate, especially when I "catch up" so to speak with the original story and have to write the new chapters from scratch.