A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone, and I'm glad to see that you're enjoying the story so far. Also, if you want to follow me and my updates on Twitter, my name is xEmachinescatx, and you can find me under Emachinescat on Facebook. I'll be posting an updating schedule on both sites, as well as my fan-fic profile, within the week, as I get back into the groove of things. Now, without further ado, here's chapter two! (Hee hee that rhymed!)

The Most Hallowed Alliance

Chapter Two

Merlin stared at his dream's intruder closely, trying to remember if Harry, Ron, or Hermione had mentioned anyone by the name of Neville during their time in Camelot. It was possible; after all, Merlin remembered clearly the night that he had stayed in their chambers with them and he and Hermione had talked into the wee morning hours. She had told him many things about the future, including tidbits about the wizarding world as well as the Muggle, but mostly, she just talked about Hogwarts. Hogwarts had seemed to Merlin like a utopian dream, a place where wizards could train and learn to control their powers freely, without fear of execution. He hadn't gotten to see much of the school at all in the brief time he had been there; mainly a glimpse of a marvelous enchanted ceiling before he lost consciousness and then, upon waking, Professor Dumbledore's office, so he hadn't got to meet many people, either. But the name Neville did sound achingly familiar…

"I think Hermione may have mentioned you, when we talked," Merlin nodded, finally recalling the girl's description of some of their many friends at school. Neville had been one of them; yes, he had been the one with the toad and a tendency to forget important things. Looking at the dream-Neville now, however, it was hard for Merlin to imagine him being an awkward teenager chasing after his wayward toad. He was still young, near the age that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been when they were in Camelot, but his eyes were older. He looked resolved, strong, and brave – a leader, not a follower; not anymore. His bruised and cut face showed that he had been through a lot of physical abuse and Merlin wondered if Hogwarts was as safe as Hermione had declared.

"She did?" Neville Longbottom looked positively delighted at this information, his face breaking into a goofy grin. "Good. Good." He stood there in the black, sleep-induced void that was Merlin's dream. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers, his black robe fluttering a few inches above his knobby ankles as he shifted awkwardly back and forth. For someone who had been desperate to get into Merlin's dream, now that he had crossed over, Neville looked nervous and quiet.

Merlin narrowed his eyes, still at a loss as to what was going on. "Um," he said as Neville made no move to talk. "You said that this is… urgent and we have seconds…?"

"Oh, well, probably close to minutes," Neville assured Merlin, his voice rushed. "I mean, we managed to gather a little extra wolfsbane, so the dreamwalking would be more potent. But yeah. It's important." He paused, then asked, almost hesitantly, "Are you… are you really Merlin. As in, you know, the Merlin?"

Merlin sighed; even after having talked with Albus Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat about his insecurities concerning his future and all that was expected of him, it was more than a little unnerving to have someone look at him with any amount of awe in their eyes, like he was something special. As of now, he hadn't done much of anything to earn the respect that future wizards held for him. All of the great things that made him legendary to future generations were still in his future, and frankly, after Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone home and Merlin himself had returned to his daily routines, sometimes he wondered if he would ever fulfill his own future. Every time that he saw an innocent person die because of their magic as Uther stood, stone-faced, and watched, Merlin felt a little of himself die. Even though Arthur knew about his magic and had assured Merlin that when he was king, magic would be re-introduced to the land, Merlin sometimes found himself wondering if that day would ever come.

Seeing the discouraged look cross his companion's face, Neville quickly backtracked. "I mean, sorry. Of course you are. Didn't mean to—"

Merlin cut him off, looking straight into Neville's nervous eyes. "No, I'm sorry. I was… distracted. Yes, I'm Merlin, but I promise you, I'm not everything I'm apparently made out to be."

Neville grinned again, this time more at ease. "Rubbish! I grew up on the stories; I remember my mum, when I was little… she… she read them to me." Neville's voice cracked a bit but he pressed on. "And my Gran, she did too." His face brightened. "And besides, Harry told me about what you all did."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "It wasn't all me; trust me, it was mostly Harry, Ron, and Hermione; I just helped… speaking of which," he continued before Neville could protest as his half-gaping mouth suggested he was about to do, "where are they? Why didn't they contact me themselves, if it's so urgent? Matter of fact, how do you even know about me? They weren't going to tell anyone; it might mess with time or something." Thinking of time-travel always made Merlin's head ache.

Neville's expression was grave. "A lot's happened since you were here last. You-Know-Who's gotten way stronger, he's got control of almost everything, and they're sniffing out all the muggle-borns, and then there's the Carrows in Hogwarts…" Merlin was going to ask what a Carrow was, but Neville was talking again. "I don't have time to explain; I've wasted enough already." Neville looked miserable. "The point is that we're desperate. And Harry told me at the end of last year, after everything went wrong, what had happened and about Camelot and at first I thought he was having a laugh at me, but that's not like him and it was right after the funeral, so I knew he wouldn't joke about that."

"What funeral?" Merlin asked, heart in his throat, thinking something had happened to Ron or Hermione.

Neville plowed on and to Merlin, it seemed like he was a little less substantial than he had been a few minutes before. "We're running out of time!" Neville gasped. "Listen, I'll explain everything later, when you get here."

"When I get—?"

"Harry said that if we needed you, you would help. You will help, won't you?"

"I—"

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione aren't at Hogwarts this year because Dumbledore left them with a job, something that only they can do. No one knows what it is but I, for one, and the rest of the DA want to help him in any way we can, anyway. Harry doesn't have a way to get to you because he's on the run from the Ministry of Magic and has no way to get the supplies he needs to work the spell, but what he needs, I mean, what he really needs, is help. He needs you." Neville was fading rapidly as he spoke.

"Wait, I don't know where or when to go!" Merlin protested. "I don't know what's going on; I can't…"

"Please, you've got to try," Neville said. He reached out and grasped Merlin's dream-hand with his own. "I've touched you; you now have contact with the time you need to get to. You'll need to appear inside of Hogwarts; you've done it before, so you should be able to again. Try to appear in the Room of Requirement. I don't know if it's possible to apparate there, but if anyone can, it's you." All that was left now was Neville's voice. "Please, Harry needs your help…"

Silence, and the void pressed in on Merlin's dream until he had slipped back into dreamless sleep.

Arthur's blue eyes were narrowed suspiciously as he watched his servant shuffle about his room. The prince was seated at his desk, parchment in front of him and quill in hand, working through some reports for his father. Merlin was supposed to be cleaning and the most surprising thing was that he actually was cleaning – with no smart-ass remarks, no teasing, no talking. The latter was what told Arthur that something was bothering his friend. With a sigh that was partly annoyed but mostly concerned, Arthur tossed his quill on the desk and fixed his glare on the back of Merlin's head.

Merlin had been dusting the fireplace – for the third time – but when Arthur's gaze drilled into his back, he sensed it and turned. His eyes were distant and Arthur knew that he had been thinking about something serious. He wondered briefly if Morgana had been up to something again, but knew that if that were the case, Merlin would almost surely tell him.

Since Arthur had discovered the truth about Merlin's powers, he had made it clear that there were to be no more big secrets between them. Arthur was trusting Merlin, lying about his magic behind Uther's back, and in return, Merlin needed to tell him of any threats to the kingdom he discovered, magical or otherwise. Arthur had suspected that something wasn't right with his father's ward when she had been rescued from Morgause, anyway, but when Merlin had hesitantly come to him after disappearing for a few days with a partially healed wound in his back, telling him that he had nearly died at the hands of Morgause, Morgana, and some really big scorpions, the truth had been made known.

Morgana had no idea that Arthur knew, or that Merlin had magic, so Arthur made himself feel a little better about the whole situation by rationalizing that they had a double advantage. He couldn't go to his father because he knew Morgana had Uther wrapped around her finger, and even if he didn't, and the truth was revealed, Morgana would have lost all chance to redeem herself. It was doubtful, but Arthur clung to it, desperately hoping that something would cause his wayward friend to return.

Merlin didn't have the 'Morgana just did something bad' face on now, though. Instead, it was a face that Arthur found that he liked even left on his servant's lean face, a look that said "Something big is going on but I have no idea what or how to deal with it and Arthur's not going to like it when I tell him so I'll just pretend everything's fine." The problem was, for someone who had to lie for his life every day, Merlin was terrible at lying. Arthur had known something major was up after Merlin had walked into his room to wake him up without chirping out a chipper, obnoxious morning greeting.

"Merlin," Arthur said seriously. "What's going on?"

Merlin smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, making the grin look stupidly out of place on his face. "Nothing. Just… thinking."

Arthur snorted. "No, your face isn't red enough for you to be thinking too hard," he teased. "You're brooding about something."

Merlin tried his best to look taken aback. "I do not… brood!" he protested. "It's fine. Everything's… great."

Arthur's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Really? Because if you're going to bore me by not being annoying and talking like usual, I'm sure we can get a little pre-training mace practice in before I train with the knights. A few rounds with the mace and your shield might loosen your tongue, eh?" His voice was light but he was serious – whatever was bothering Merlin needed to come out, the sooner, the better.

Merlin huffed, annoyed, and the fact that he didn't retort with a snappy response told Arthur that something big really was going on. "Look, I don't even to know what to make of this," he said.

"Oh, and if the great Merlin doesn't understand, there's no way simple-minded Arthur would catch on, is there?" Arthur said sarcastically, impatient.

"I didn't mean it like that," Merlin said. "But it's something to do with magic. I… had a dream last night. But it wasn't a dream, it was real… sort of."

"This is more like it; you're babbling nonsense as usual," Arthur deadpanned, voice flat.

Merlin took a deep breath. "I was contacted by a friend of Harry's from Hogwarts in my dream last night," he spurted out quickly. "He needs my help, wants me to travel to the future to help them fight Voldemort."

Arthur stared, not quite comprehending what Merlin had said. Someone from the future had gotten into Merlin's dream and wanted him to time-travel – again – to fight an enemy that wasn't even his? Didn't they know that Merlin was needed here in Camelot? Did they really expect Merlin to risk his life in a time where he didn't belong?

Almost as if he could read Arthur's thoughts, Merlin gently reminded the prince, "Harry stayed and helped me fight Nimueh."

"That was different!" Arthur protested. "You can't really be thinking about—"

Merlin was completely serious as he nodded. "Arthur, I have to try. I know it's dangerous, but I've got to do what I can to help. Harry saved our lives; I owe him that much. Besides, Voldemort nearly killed me, remember? I'm reminded every time I see my scar." Merlin had a lightning-shaped scar burned into his chest where the killing curse had hit and infected him with dark magic, similar to the one that was on Harry's forehead. "I think I owe him one, too."

Arthur saw the steely blue resolve in the servant's eyes and knew that there was no convincing him otherwise. He thought back to the tense and terrible time when he and Morgana had waited for his return, praying that he hadn't died or gotten stuck in the future forever. He remember the uncertainty, fear, and anxiety. He recalled Merlin getting struck in the chest by the fading Voldemort's curse, writhing on the floor in pain, and being transported from Gaius's chambers by his own magic to the distant future. He thought about Merlin's selfless desire to help anyone in need and how much the warlock had changed inside of Arthur, inspiring him to want to do the same.

Arthur thought about all of this and dipped his head. "Okay, you have my permission – but I'm coming, too. Who knows what kind of trouble you'll attract in a future magic-school and I'm not about to let you go without backup. Shut up, Merlin," he added as Merlin opened his mouth to protest. "I'm going, and that's final."

Morgause was in her current dwelling place, a high-topped cavern that was halfway between Camelot and Estecia, surrounded by the ancient, looming trees of the Darkling Woods. She sat in an ornate chair, a gift from her favorite pawn, Cenred, leafing through a thick-paged book of magic that she had had for many years, looking for any mention of the strange green-black stone Morgana had dreamed about, a stone that apparently had the ability to bring the dead back to life – something that was impossible after death, even if a life was given in return. No, this stone was something of immense power, something new – or so ancient it had been buried for ages. With that kind of power, Camelot would be hers.

The sorceress felt a mild stirring in the back of her mind, a presence seeking entry that she did not recognize. Her eyes flashed gold as she reacted to the foreign touch to her consciousness, not drawing back, but demanding to know who was there.

The answer was soft, hissing, like a snake. A friend. A friend that knows everything that you are sssearching for. I know the sssstone you ssseek, and with your help, we can have not only the sssstone but total power over death itssself…

Morgause was usually wary about talking to strange, magical intruders in her mind – the Druids had contacted her years before in the same way, before she had alienated herself completely from their pacifistic, cowardly ways – but something about this animalistic, otherworldly voice with its wild promises of ultimate power stirred something inside of her.

With a small smirk, she closed her eyes to better communicate and replied both mentally and out loud.

"I'm listening. Now, tell me about this stone."

A/N: So… Morgause is getting chatty with someone (any guesses who?), Merlin and Arthur are about to go to future Hogwarts to help Neville, the DA, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione of course, and now that most of the re-cap introduction stuff is out of the way, this story's going to pick up VERY soon! :) I hope you're still enjoying this so far (I am!) and I will update as soon as I can, but at least within the next two weeks, okay? ;) Please review and I'll see y'all soon!

~Emachinescat ^..^