I love you all so much! Thank you for all the awesome reviews, they made me feel so much better! Which is probably why this chapter was so quick in coming... don't count on that to continue. I have an exam on Wednesday and it's Geography. Worse, it's HUMAN Geography, shit that I don't understand (sorry for the foul language. It just doesn't go in).

Anyway I would like to thank you guys again for all the great reviews, especially since I haven't got much to do other than sit around and revise and wait for this bloody cold to go away! I would also like to point out that Mordred does have some sweet moments in this, it's just that I haven't got to them yet. Thanks themugglefreak for giving that awesome review, I just wanted to let you know that there were some really sweet Mordred fluff moments coming ('cause he's awesome), I just needed his I-don't-really-react-to-anything vibe in that chapter (p.s. the moment with the ceiling was my fluffy moment. That comes later too).

Anyway, that over with, on with the story! (Bad English I know)


The High Priest was standing in a forest, enshrouded in a mist of his own creation. He didn't want any of the Muggles in the area noticing him as he tracked the spirits of two of the most dangerous criminals in all of history. He had tracked many minor spirits who had also escaped but ignored them for now. They would instantly be dragged back to the spirit world once the veil closed as they didn't have the power to influence the world. Morgana and Uther however… Morgana was still able to use magic and Uther was able to influence the world the way he liked. While he couldn't use magic he had developed an annoying habit of moving things with his mind, something so close to magic it was hypocritical.

The High Priest turned in a circle, trying to pick up the trail again. He had never been good tracking physically, but in this way, tracking their essences, he had always excelled. It helped that he knew both of their auras, no matter how much they made him shudder. For once, he didn't feel out of his depth.

It had been years since he had been appointed High Priest, and even then he had had his doubts. He worried that he would begin to become something like Morgana, mad with power. He didn't want that and he preferred to work on the side-lines, not charge in all at once. That was Arthur's job, not his.

No, he berated himself. You don't work for him anymore. You work for the protection of magic and the greater good. Arthur's time will come again but it is not now. Focus on the here and now, not the past. This had always been his problem. The moment he had seen Arthur again he had been overjoyed but the realisation that he was to be the next High Priest had meant that he had been forced to leave Arthur to his own devices. When Voldemort's trial appeared and a member of the non-magical community (calling them Muggles felt discriminatory) was needed, he had known Arthur was he man for the job. Whilst he could be prejudiced and hot-headed, Arthur was also able to see beneath that, look at the world with experienced eyes. He could see the growth of power in the young man and know that this was something like Morgana. Except Morgana had had a reason, a purpose for what she did. Voldemort didn't.

The High Priest was surprised that most of the attacks from this pair were actually coming from Uther. Those who didn't live in the magical community were complaining of attacks, money being stolen and property like cars being damaged. Anything that Uther didn't understand, he destroyed. The High Priest feared that it wouldn't be long before he started to attack the magical community as well.

Morgana on the other hand seemed to have disappeared. Her aura was somewhere in the region of Hogwarts but there seemed to be something almost… muted about her aura. It was as if she had lost the will to fight, to go on. That didn't seem like her at all, not even when she had been a friend of Camelot's. The High Priest had decided that she was the lesser of his two problems and had moved on, looking for Uther. But there was still a glimmer of hope in his heart that perhaps, even if only a little, she had started to see the error of her ways. That perhaps the sight of a community of sorcerers who weren't shunned had led her back to the light.

It seemed like a long shot, but it was one the High Priest was willing to believe in with everything if he had to. Mordred had seen his wrongs. Perhaps Morgana could do the same.


The silence in the hall was deafening. Harry could clearly hear his own breathing as he waited to see what would happen. He didn't have to wait long.

All of a sudden, people began to shout at Mordred, some even picking up their wands and firing spells at him. Harry didn't think that that was particularly fair, considering he had only been discussing traits with Arthur. Shocking traits of Merlin's perhaps, but nothing that deserved outright hatred. It was almost as if it were Voldemort standing in the centre of the room, not Mordred. Harry wasn't sure why he felt sorry for Mordred, who looked slightly panicked as he held up one hand, muttering what must be a shield spell under his breath, his eyes flashing gold. Harry had never seen anyone perform magic like that but it was clear that Mordred, while gifted, didn't have the strength to carry it on for long. Harry felt compelled to do something but was surprisingly beaten to it by Snape.

"Protego!" the former Potions Master snapped, raising his wand and adding a shield over them as Mordred fell to his knees. Arthur knelt with him, one hand on his shoulder, glaring at the wizards in the room. Harry thought he heard him mutter, "And suddenly, I see why we never came here." Mordred looked just about ready to go to sleep, his head resting on the arm that Arthur had on his shoulder. Arthur didn't seem to have noticed.

McGonagall managed to recover herself and take charge. "Enough!" she shouted. A few people stopped and turned towards her as she shouted once again over the din of insulted cries and hexes. "Enough of this childish behaviour!" The hall fell silent once again, the last few spells bouncing off of Snape's shield charm. Deeming it to be safe, Snape let the shield dropped but Harry noticed he kept his wand out, just in case.

"Now I'm sure these gentlemen have an explanation for their rude comments but there was no reason to start hexing the poor boy!" McGonagall snapped at the wizards around her, reminding them that they were on school grounds and that she was the Headmistress. She then turned back to Arthur and Mordred and Harry noticed that her eyes had softened a little. McGonagall was strict but she always had a soft spot for those in need. "You may take him somewhere to rest if you wish," McGonagall said to Arthur as he helped Mordred to his feet. Mordred swayed rather dangerously, leaning on Arthur's shoulders. Harry got the feeling he had exhausted himself. "Madam Pomfrey will probably have a spare bed in the hospital wing." Arthur nodded and began to half-carry, half-drag Mordred from the room. Harry jumped when McGonagall began to speak again. "As for you three, you can meet me in my office! And you Snape! I want to know exactly what's going on." Harry cringed under her glare. She then turned back to the rest of the congregation in the hall. "If I hear that anyone has gone to harm either of our guests, there will be repercussions, student or not!" And with that McGonagall dragged them out of the room.

Harry wondered how they were going to get out of this one. It wasn't as if they could just tell her that there was some kind of all-powerful leader out there who was tracking down Uther Pendragon and Morgan Le Fey… actually they probably shouldn't tell her that either. After this war, the news that Morgana was back was probably not the most welcome.

McGonagall led them back to her original office although Harry suspected that Dumbledore's office would now be hers. It was the same as always, neatly arranged and the desk was clear as she swept in and conjured four chairs around it. The she sat in her own chair and gestured for them to sit. Only Snape remained standing, hanging back towards the door as if wishing to be anywhere than where he was.

"Explain," was all McGonagall said, her eyes fixed on Snape. This was something Harry wanted to hear as well as he turned to look at the Potions Master. Snape was looking anywhere than at him, fixing his gaze on the wall above McGonagall's head.

"I told you that I could not tell you anything other than the fact that we are here for your protection Minerva. I did not lie," Snape said in a controlled voice. Harry wondered what was going through his head.

"Oh, I did not think you were lying Severus," McGonagall snapped. "I was just hoping you were going to elaborate on how you and two other people who have been pronounced dead by history are walking around Hogwarts as if this were normal!" Snape winced, as though thinking back to something.

"There is much I can't explain; mainly due to the fact I do not understand it myself. Questions of exactly how are perhaps best left to when Sir Mordred is feeling better. All I can tell you is that when I died I was taken to a place that was thought only to be myth and placed into the trial of Voldemort. When he didn't die when he was supposed to we were sent back here." Harry could feel himself staring. What kind of a person admits that they died and then were part of Voldemort's trial (whatever that was)? It made no sense. McGonagall seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"What trial? Voldemort, may I remind you, is very much alive still," McGonagall snapped. Snape sighed irritably, as if he had known that this would be the response he would get.

"These are question for Mordred, not for me. Even Arthur could explain the working of the Old Religion better than I." McGonagall was staring at Snape oddly as Hermione gave a little gasp.

"The Old Religion?" she whispered. "But that's been extinct for ages."

"What is the Old Religion?" Harry asked, now thoroughly confused. McGonagall sighed and gestured towards Hermione who instantly launched into explanation.

"It's the old form of magic, the purer form. There's not much on it in the library because medieval wizards taught this magic mouth to mouth instead of writing it down but there are some of the old magic books. But it died off after Uther Pendragon attempted to wipe out all magic from the earth in the Great Purge. After that magic became diluted until only those with the ability to use magic could do it and only then through a wand." Hermione gave a triumphant smile which probably meant that that was all she knew.

"There's more to it than that," said a quiet voice and Harry turned to see Arthur standing in the doorway. McGonagall blinked.

"How did you get here?" she asked, sounding more than a little surprised. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I watched the school being built. I know the layout almost as well as I knew Camelot." McGonagall blinked but gestured for him to continue. He sighed. "The Old Religion never died. Yes, the new form of magic rose in use, mainly because people grew afraid of what it could do after…" Arthur suddenly broke off for a moment, something other than amusement in his eyes. Harry found himself thinking that it was sadness, even regret. He wondered why. Arthur took a deep breath before continuing. "After Morgana's plight against Camelot. Gwen tried to keep the peace but after her death… well, people still remembered Morgana. They turned back to my father's ideals and decided to get rid of them. The Old Religion faded into the background and allowed the newer, Latin magic to rise to power. The Old Religion still exists in s few places but you have to know where to look."

"Gwen?" Hermione asked but was over-ruled by Ron.

"How do you know all this stuff?" Ron asked, echoing himself from earlier. Arthur's eyebrow twitched as if it wanted to repeat its earlier action.

"I've had over a thousand years watching the world pass by with not much to do. And, yes, Gwen," he said, smiling at Hermione. "She was my wife." Harry had to stop himself from gasping like Hermione.

"Your… Guinevere! But she…" she stopped at Arthur's look.

"Yes?" he said tersely, almost daring her to continue.

"Well…" Hermione whimpered. "Didn't she… um… like Lancelot." Arthur's hands seemed to twitch convulsively and Harry got the feeling that this was dangerous territory.

"That was a dirty trick by dear, loving half-sister who wanted the crown for herself. And the only reason she accomplished that was with use of a shade. Neither Gwen nor Lancelot would ever have tried anything like that in their right minds. And as for the rest of the fictional histories you lot have of us I would try to learn what a person is like instead of judging them on something that a man who agreed with my father wrote!" And with that, Arthur swept from the room, cloak billowing out behind him. Harry could imagine him doing something like that in Camelot after a trial of a criminal. There was just something about Arthur that made you want to follow him loyally, something that made you blind to his arrogance. He finally understood why people went to their deaths for Arthur. He might act like a prick sometimes but he was wise and fair. He didn't judge people by the words but by their actions.

"Well done Granger. You've managed to annoy one of the most powerful men in history," Snape said dryly and Harry knew that this wasn't a good thing. McGonagall sighed and kneaded her forehead with her fingertips.

"Well, it doesn't seem like we're going to get an explanation soon so you might as well go. Severus, do as you must but know that I will be filling your place as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," McGonagall sighed. Snape just nodded.

"Of course. This is, after all, only temporary. Although I may have a suggestion as to whom you should pick…"


Voldemort waited. He was out of troops, out of support and out of time. But he had had one last trick up his sleeve. This would work, he was sure of it. After all, who more formidable to release upon the world than Morgan Le Fey and Uther Pendragon, the two most formidable people who ever existed. The plan was fool proof, he was sure of it. It was only a matter of time.

So Voldemort sat and waited patiently for the time that he could rule to world.


Hmmm... these chapters seem to be creeping their way to getting longer. Not sure why, I can never write really long chapters without giving too much away...

Please tell me what you think!

(Also I really want to do this... Ohhhhh, look, foreshadowing... I think I'm going insane with being ill...)