"Ænoteu, dwæsu gewiglung!" Hermione swore, tossing the crystal on a leather thong at Harry, who caught it neatly in one hand, and the map of Glastonbury at Ron, who caught that as well before proceeding to make a mess out of folding it again.

"It's not a useless, stupid spell," Ginny said mildly as she took the map from her brother and folded it up neatly. "Not completely, at any rate. Harry managed to confirm that Merlin is in this town, didn't he?"

"That's as far as any of us got, though," Harry said. "What does he expect us to do, walk every street until we find his house?"

"Perhaps," Snape said, with a measure of patience Harry could hardly believe. "But perhaps not. He has to know that with the news of the prophecy being leaked, Ynys yr Afalon is already being overrun by witches and wizards pretending to be muggles on holiday. We have to use our heads. Now, what do we know for certain?"

"Merlin's here in Glastonbury," Ron said. "That's a fact."

"And Harry's the only one who can search for him by magical means, but dowsing apparently has its limits, and scrying is a complete waste of time," Hermione added.

"Not to mention, we're all very recognizable – well, you are," Harry said, smugly tugging his fedora down lower on his forehead, straightening his well-fitting Pendragon-red tee shirt, and brushing nearly unnoticeable wrinkles from his jeans. "A glamour or something wouldn't go amiss in keeping attention off us."

"What? Sn – ah, Professor Snape might get recognized, but the rest of us will blend in alright," Ron protested.

"Hardly," Snape countered. "Thanks to that odious Skeeter woman and her photographer, everyone who read the Daily Prophet last year knows what Harry Potter's best friends look like, and you and your sister are obviously Weasleys. But you raise a good point. Those who recognize me who aren't Hogwarts students or alumni from the past fourteen years will undoubtedly be people of an unsavory character. Arthur's suggestion is a good one. Charms, transfigurations, and glamours all around, students."

"Even me?" Harry asked. Snape looked him up and down with a critical eye and shook his head.

"Not necessary. Your clothes and your growth spurt are disguise enough, I believe, so long as you keep your hat on. However, if you'll allow me to provide you with different glasses…."

Harry promptly whipped off his glasses and handed them over to Snape, who tapped them with his wand and muttered, "Duplicatum." A second pair popped into being, and it was these that Snape turned his attention to, sweeping the tip of his wand over the frames, dragging and molding and gently reshaping them until they were a bit smaller and had a vaguely rectangular shape to them. A nonverbal transfiguration spell changed them from black plastic to a subtle dark grey metal. Snape placed Harry's old glasses into his shirt pocket and gave Harry the new ones.

"Better," Snape said with satisfaction once Harry settled his new glasses on his face.

"How do they look?" Harry asked.

"Don't worry, geong broðor," Hermione teased, "Merlin will still think you're the prettiest king at the ball."

"Shut up, Morgana," Harry retorted.

"Very original," Hermione said, sounding deeply unimpressed. "You do know that whenever a comeback is 'shut up', the other person wins by default."

"Oh, the joys of having an older sister again," Harry said, and turned to Snape. "Thanks for the glasses, sir."

"My pleasure, Arthur," Snape said. He cast his gaze around the other three teens and pointed to Hermione. "Miss Granger next, I believe."

Before Hermione could voice her protest, Snape whipped his wand in her direction and her hair immediately began to straighten and turn several shades darker until it was almost a match for Harry's hair color. Another twitch of his wand, and her light brown eyes turned a pale blue-green.

Hermione fidgeted under everyone's stunned, silent stares. "What?" she demanded.

Ginny dug into her purse and came up with a small mirror, which she handed to Hermione wordlessly. Hermione took one look at her reflection and gasped.

"I look like I –"

"Like we're actually related to each other for the first time ever," Harry said as soon as he recovered his equilibrium, stealing the mirror and draping an arm around her shoulders. "Relax. No one's going to look at you and see Morgana Pendragon any more than they're going to see Hermione Granger. Today, we're just any other brother and sister out for a walk in Glastonbury with our friends." He snuck a surreptitious look at his own reflection and made a mental note to not return his new glasses to Snape after the day was over. They looked much nicer than his old pair.

"Queen Weasley or Sir Weasley next?" Snape asked briskly.

"I'll go next," Ginny said, stepping up and stealing back her mirror from Harry. "Just, no unpleasant surprises, please."

"You have my word," Snape said, and with two economical movements he turned her hair a deep chestnut and vanished all her freckles. He turned to Ron and did the exact same to him, then, finally, turned his wand on himself, closed his eyes, and muttered a cantrip in Old English. Before their eyes, he shrank an inch, his hair lightened to a silvery white, his face softened and wrinkled, and his nose lost its dramatic hook-like bridge. When he opened his eyes, they were a light blue.

Harry and his friends stared at Gaius, present, in the flesh, and dressed in modern-day muggle clothing.

Snape stared back. "It's a fine disguise," he said irritably. "Aside from you four, the Dursleys, and the two we left behind at Grimmauld Place, the only people likely to recognize me as my old self are Arthur's knights. Well? We don't have all day. There's only so many ways Lupin, Black, the twins, and the house elf can give Molly Weasley the run-around before she realizes you aren't at Headquarters."

The reminder brought Harry back to the here and now with an abrupt thud, and he blinked dazedly before answering. "Right. Well, we're disguised, we're in the right town, and while we don't have all day, we do have a few hours, possibly more. Now it's just a matter of figuring out how to find Merlin."

"It's going to come down to you, I think," Hermione said. "None of us could dowse for him on the map. He may have hidden himself from being found by magical means by anyone but you."

"And how would he know I have magic this time around?" Harry asked.

"I don't think he does," Snape said. "I read the muggle paper this morning at my home before I came by to collect all of you and I saw the same advertisement. It could be that he just expects that you'll know where to look."

"Oh!" Ginny unfolded the map and pulled a self-inking quill from her purse. "That makes perfect sense." She pored over the map, her fingers tracing street names, and every so often she stopped and circled one. When she was done, she handed it over to Harry. "Here. These are our most likely places to find his home."

"Pendragon Park," Harry read aloud. "Chalice Way, Avalon Estate, Ferryman Road. Nicely spotted, Ginny."

"I like to think I know him, too," Ginny said with a smile.

Ron took the map from Harry and frowned thoughtfully. "We should start with Avalon Estate and Ferryman Road. They're practically right next to each other."

"Is there anything else we can do? The Four Points spell?" Ginny asked.

"That only points to true North," Harry said. "But that gives me an idea."

"What's that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"This." Harry took the discarded dowsing crystal on the leather thong and held his hand over it. "Ábeþece Merlin."

The crystal gave off a dim glow for a moment before returning to normal. For a second, Harry thought that his spell had failed. Then the crystal swung out slightly, pointing to the northeast instead of directly down at the ground at his feet.

Ron laughed. "A reverse accio spell! Brilliant!"

"And it looks like your hunch was right," Snape told Ron, studying the direction the crystal was being pulled toward. "It does indeed seem to be indicating that we travel toward Avalon Estate and Ferryman Road."

"Then we'd better start walking," Harry said, and he wrapped the thong around his hand a few times to shorten the crystal's lead until it didn't look nearly so obviously magical. When he was satisfied, he set his free hand on the hilt of his magically obscured sword and scabbard, looked over his 'troops' – his high priestess half-sister turned muggleborn daughter of dentists; his wife and queen, now the younger sister of his best friend; his loyal knight and brother-in-law turned sixth son of a family rich in love, if poor in galleons; and his loyal and long serving court physician and more than occasional surrogate parent, otherwise known in this life until yesterday as his most hated professor and the bane of Hogwarts – and felt, for the first time since waking up, more like his old self than his new self. He had a purpose. He was on a mission. He was getting Merlin back…and then he and his people were going to save Albion.

It was with the voice of a man who knows his orders are going to be followed, his field command voice, that he said, "Let's move out."

"There's my Arthur," Ginny murmured in Brythonic, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Remembering how to be king again?"

They walked casually as a group out from behind the Glastonbury Young People's Centre (which, to Harry's great amusement, was right across from the King Arthur pub) and headed east on Benedict Street, Ginny on his left arm, Ron on his right, guarding his side almost instinctively, Hermione and Snape bringing up the rear.

"More and more every day," Harry replied quietly in the same language.

"Good," Ginny said. "We're going to need that in the time to come if we're to make it through in one piece."

Harry remembered the heart-wrenching pain of loss at the deaths of Elyan, miraculously returned to him and within arm's reach, and of Lancelot, who, thanks to one of his many owl post conversations with Hermione, had been restored to his place of honor and trust in Harry's eyes, and the keen sting of betrayal at Mordred's flight from Camelot when the boy he'd looked upon as friend and protégé had turned to Morgana in his grief and anger. "I will not lose anyone else again," Harry vowed. "Not to Voldemort and his followers' curses, nor to his poisonous lies."

"You aren't alone in this," Hermione said. "You have all of us – and there are more than just the few we know of, surely – and all of your people love you."

"Not quite like Ginny does," Ron said with a crooked smile, "But enough to follow you to the gates of hell without turning back."

"I would certainly hope you don't love him that way," Ginny said, peering around Harry to raise an eyebrow at her brother. "There was enough gossip going around about Arthur and Merlin before Arthur started publically courting me to fill one of Geoffrey's enormous old books. We certainly don't need to add to it by throwing in the knights."

"Me and Merlin? Gossip?" Harry asked. "Truly? I never heard any of this."

"Yes, well, you wouldn't have, would you?" Ginny pointed out. "Servants generally don't let royalty know that they're gossiping about them. Especially when the gossip involves the crown prince, his manservant, and an illicit, torrid affair."

"Torrid affair?" Harry repeated blankly. At Ginny's faux-innocent look, he threw his head back and howled with laughter, coming to a dead stop on the pavement. He was vaguely aware of passers-by staring as he clutched his ribs and laughed hysterically, which was a sure sign that he was blowing their 'casual' approach to pieces, but he just couldn't stop. Every concerned inquiry and nudge to keep moving from his friends just brought on a fresh wave of laughter. Finally, finally, with ribs aching and lungs heaving, he wiped away the tears leaking from his eyes with the back of his hand and said with a chuckle, "If the servants wanted to gossip about a knight of Camelot who was more likely to attempt to find a way to get Merlin into his bed, they really ought to have taken a harder look at the lot of us and picked the gambling, carousing, flirt and not the one who was head over heels in love with the same woman for years before he married her."

"Gwaine?" Ginny asked as they resumed their walk. "You think Gwaine and Merlin –"

"I've no idea, and I'm not about to come to any conclusions and then pass them off as fact," Harry said with a wicked smile. "That would be gossiping. I certainly don't gossip about my knights."

"Oh, but you gossip about Merlin?" Hermione interjected.

"No, this is definitely about Gwaine," Ron said reassuringly.

"How are you so certain?" Hermione asked, and Ginny echoed, "Yes, Ron, how?"

"Ron, define Gwaine – when he didn't have a sword in his hand," Harry said.

"He flirted with pretty things, liked Merlin the best, and was more than a little opportunistic," Ron answered promptly.

"So you're saying that Gwaine…liked pretty things," Ginny said slowly, "And you're also implying that he found Merlin…pretty. Yet you're drawing no conclusions."

"None at all," Harry said cheerfully. "I will say this, though. If he didn't make a move on a good looking man back in Camelot, he'll probably take the opportunity to do so just for the hell of it if he's woken up to find himself alive and well in Nineteen Ninety-Five."

"I don't mean to cast aspersions on your character, broðor, but I find it hard to believe that you, a warrior-king of the early Five Hundreds, would notice these tendencies in a knight and simply look the other way," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. "He, Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, and Leon were the first of my knights of the Round Table. He had been banished from Camelot by our father, and he returned to help me retake it from you despite the threat of execution hanging over his head if he returned, had Uther been in his right mind and feeling like enough of a bastard to enact the sentence after being saved by him. Even though he could have left when it was over, he stayed despite his wandering nature. He was easily one of my finest nights, and despite what Ginny may say about me having a good heart, I can say without reservation that at times Gwaine's seemed twice the size of mine. I had to think about the good of the kingdom as a whole first and foremost. Gwaine just wanted to get out there and spend a day saving people before finishing it up with an ale or three at the tavern. He was a good man, sweostor. The teasing is only in good fun. Whoever he finds happiness with in this lifetime is a lucky person, and I only wish him the best. Hell, he and…and Percival could end up together, and I'd be happy for them both."

Hermione came up on Ginny's other side so she could look at Harry. "You really did grow up, didn't you," she said wistfully. "I wish – well, there's no use wishing you could have made different choices in a different life when you're already on your second one. But you became a fine man, and a great king."

"A great king? Absolutely," Ginny said. "A fine man? Most of the time. He still had his moments, though…."

"Let's just hope my Harry Potter side will help keep that in check," Harry said, and he mock-scowled down at a laughing Ginny. "No need to list any specific instances. Your impression of me on my unofficial birthday was more than enough."

"Of course," she agreed demurely, then she turned to Hermione and said, "Ask me later, when he's not around to get all grumpy over it."

Behind them, Snape chuckled as Ron asked Harry, "Are you sure you want to make a second go of it with her? She's going to keep you on your toes, mate."

"She did last time, too," Harry reminded him, "And I enjoyed every minute of it."

"You are a glutton for punishment," Ron said.

Harry led them down a quick turn in the street where it made a jog before turning into a new one. "No, just a very lucky man."

"Ah, you flatterer," Ginny said, laying her head against his shoulder and tightening her hold on the crook of his elbow. "You're shameless."

"And yet, that doesn't make any of it untrue."

"Mm."

The five of them walked for a while in companionable silence, following the tugging of the crystal and choosing the most likely-looking roads. They passed by quaint looking shops and restaurants, dozens of oblivious muggles – both locals out running errands and tourists on holiday – and plenty of wizards and witches who almost, but didn't quite, fit in with the crowd of muggles they were attempting to pass themselves off as. Their clothes were just a little too eccentric, their faces too eager, and every so often one of them would inevitably mention the 'prophecy' loud enough for Harry to hear. Luckily, their disguises were holding up, and no one was giving them a second glance, not even Harry with his broadsword hanging off his hip.

He was beginning to believe that their mission to find Merlin would pass without incident when, naturally, Sod's Law proved him wrong in the form of a blond family of three walking a few meters ahead of them and speaking in low-voiced Brythonic.

It was second nature to raise his hand to signal to his companions to follow silently, and he didn't wait to see that everyone had nodded in agreement before he started to creep closer on silent feet, ears pricked up and listening carefully.

"You're certain that he's here?" Lucius Malfoy asked his son.

"Yes, I'm positive," Malfoy the younger said. "That was a favorite insult of his. I remember it well from my time in service to Camelot. And if I figured it out, then the king most certainly did so. If we're really lucky, we'll find them both."

"That would indeed be fortunate," Narcissa Malfoy said. "Your father and I can renew our acquaintance with Emrys and, if we are lucky, as you say, pledge our fealty to the Once and Future King's cause. It is not a matter of chance that the prophecy activated when the Dark Lord rose again. If he is the darkness threatening the Isles…."

"Dear heart, I can only apologize so many times for the choices I made in this lifetime before I start repeating myself and boring the both of us," Mr. Malfoy said, sounding almost gentle. "Who knows why magic chose us as the reincarnations of our past selves?"

"The Old Religion is deep and unfathomable," Mrs. Malfoy agreed. "Whyever it did, I'm sure there is a good reason for its decision."

"Perhaps it's so Father can attempt to destabilize the Dark Lord's organization from within," Malfoy suggested. "Although if we're asking why magic chose us to be the present incarnations of our past selves, I have to ask, why, by the Triple Goddess, would it choose to place me with you?"

"Either magic has a sense of humor, or it wanted to give you lots of practice before you set eyes on either Emrys or the king," Mr. Malfoy said dryly. "How is that 'don't kill me' speech of yours coming along?"

"Your concern for my wellbeing is touching," Malfoy said. "And it sounds the same as it did the last time I tried it out."

"Best to be prepared," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Why don't you run through it one more time?"

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Fine. Emrys, Your Majesty, I'm sorry, blah blah blah, I'm a horrible druid and I should have believed in the prophecy, blah blah blah, I dishonored my knighthood and abandoned my friends, blah blah blah, I'm really sorry I killed you, sire, please don't kill me again."

"Leave out the 'blahs' and put some life into your delivery and I think you may have a chance," Mr. Malfoy said.

"He's going to kill me," Malfoy said, clutching fistfuls of neatly groomed blond hair and groaning.

Snape seemed almost able to read Harry's mind as he whispered a quick Notice-Me-Not spell that encompassed both of their groups just as Harry said, "I don't know about Merlin, but I'm pretty sure the king just wants to punch you in the face."

The Malfoys whirled around to face them, and they paled as first all three of them looked at Hermione, and then father and son spied Snape in the back of the group and Mr. Malfoy turned a chalky white.

"Morgana," Malfoy choked out. He twitched, leaning forward as if he wanted to come closer, but he held himself back.

Mr. Malfoy looked like he was ready to fall to his knees and do some forgiveness-begging of his own. "Gaius."

Snape took a step forward and grasped Harry's shoulder in what most assuredly appeared to be an outward sign of strength and solidarity. However, Harry could feel the tremors going through his teacher's body where his hand met Harry's shoulder. "Alator," he said flatly.

Hermione threw her hands in the air with a wordless cry of annoyance. "'Nobody will look at you and see Morgana Pendragon,' you said," she snapped, pointing to Harry before turning on Snape. "And you, you said that looking like your old self was a fine disguise, and nobody but Camelot's knights were likely to recognize you! Neither of you should ever be allowed to make predictions ever again."

"To be fair, Mordred was one of my knights," Harry said, and the Malfoys did a double take as they looked him over and finally realized who it was who'd spoken first.

"That's beside the point!" Hermione retorted.

"Wait. Harry Potter is King Arthur?" Malfoy asked, and he turned the same chalky white as his father. "Magic hates me."

"Oh, gástgewinn," Mr. Malfoy swore under his breath.

"I already killed you once; doing it twice would make it seem like I was holding onto a grudge," Harry said. "I still want to punch you, though. Mr. Malfoy? Do you have any strong objections to me hitting your son, just the once?"

"He is my son, Pot – er, Your Majesty," Mr. Malfoy said cautiously. "His safety is of great importance to me."

"Alright, do you have any objections to me hauling off and hitting one of my knights, who I took under my wing and thought of as a friend before he joined forces with my more than half-crazy half-sister and impaled me with a sword that led to my slow and painful death a few days later?" Harry asked. At that, Mr. Malfoy slowly, almost reluctantly, shook his head.

"What happened to you growing up and maturing?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm taking a short break," Harry said, and took a step closer to Malfoy, who flinched at the movement. "Relax," he said soothingly. "It'll be over in less than a minute."

Malfoy turned wary, bewildered eyes on him. "Relax?"

Quick as a flash, Harry drew his sword arm back and let his fist fly. It connected with Malfoy's nose with a satisfying crack, and Malfoy stumbled back, hands clamped over his nose and eyes watering.

"See? It's over already," Harry said. "By the way, that's for killing me, you enormous git."

"I'b sorry!" Malfoy cried out. "I ab, druly." He gingerly prodded his nose with a fingertip and winced. "By the Dribble Goddess, Bodder, I ding'k you broke by dose." As if to emphasize this, a little trickle of blood flowed down his face as he spoke.

"Break's over," Harry announced. "Let Pr-Gaius take a look and heal you."

Malfoy obediently walked around their group to stand before Snape, who pulled Malfoy's bloody hands away from his face. Harry noted with approval that Malfoy barely made a whimper of pain when Snape set his nose back in place with one hand and cast a muttered "episkey" with his wand in the other. Another wave of his wand, and all the blood vanished. All that remained was a bit of redness and swelling to show for Harry's quick and easy payback.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked him once Snape was finished.

Malfoy let out an inelegant snort of disbelief. "Am I alright? Considering I thought you were going to kill me, I'm excellent. But I'm –"

"Lost?" Ron suggested.

"Confused?" Snape chipped in.

"Yes," Malfoy said. "It just seems almost too easy. It's over and done with, just like that?" His gaze darted from face to face suspiciously.

"We still have things to talk about, but yes, just like that," Harry said. "It's – well, I found a way of dealing with this whole reincarnation business a while back that actually works rather well. If I like someone in this lifetime that I didn't like in that lifetime, I focus on my feelings from this one. If I didn't like them this time around but I liked them back in my last life, I let our old relationship take the lead, emotionally speaking. It makes things much easier."

"So that's how you've been so calm about it all," Ron said. "Makes sense." He looked at Snape and Malfoy thoughtfully.

"Yes, I do expect you to give it a try," Harry said, and Ron's lips quirked as if he'd been anticipating that thinly veiled order.

"Like I said, to the gates of hell," Ron said. Harry looked at him with pride, and he straightened to his full height, smiling back at his king wryly. He reached out and, ignoring Malfoy's flinch, offered him his hand. "In that case, well met, Mordred. It's been about a millennium and a half, and I don't look at all like I used to, but we were friends once. Elyan."

Ever so slowly, Malfoy extended his hand as well and grasped Ron's forearm, greeting him properly like the knight he once was. "Weasley," he stated, looking at his face closely. "The hair color and the lack of freckles are a decent disguise, but your nose is a dead giveaway."

"Try 'Ron'," Ron said. "I guarantee you'll start liking me faster."

Malfoy beetled his brow but went along with Ron's advice without complaint. "Fair enough. I suppose you can call me Draco, then. Well met, Ron. Which means…." He crossed within Harry's reach carefully and, with a tense, guarded glance up at Harry, took Ginny's free hand and bowed over it. "Ginny Weasley. My lady."

"You have a lot to make up for," Ginny said severely, but her eyes were smiling as she took her hand back only to use it to finger-comb Malfoy's – no, Draco's hair back into some semblance of order. "You absolutely devastated Arthur when you left."

Draco cut his eyes to Harry, looking even more lost and bewildered as he stood stock-still and put up with Ginny's fussing at his hair. "I did?"

"Did you think I was going to throw a feast in celebration of your abrupt departure?" Harry asked. "My God, and Merlin calls me a prat. No, idiot. You were my friend. The most promising of my new knights. I thought highly of you. I always told Gwen that once you had more experience under your belt, you'd make an excellent addition to the Round Table."

"I thought we were friends," Draco said cautiously. "But then you executed Kara. I loved her. You didn't have to do that, Pot – Harr – Your Maj – Arth –" He stopped and rumpled his hair in frustration, undoing all of Ginny's work with one motion.

"Just call me what feels right to you," Harry said, then, realizing exactly who he was talking to, added swiftly, "So long as it's not 'Potter' or an insult."

"Harry," Draco said, testing it out. "You didn't have to kill her. I could have made her leave and never come back."

It struck Harry suddenly that when Mordred had died, he hadn't been more than four years older than Draco. "That's a nice thought, really," Harry said, "But put away the lovelorn teenage brain for a moment and turn on the Malfoy political brain. I have a hypothetical scenario for you. Ready?"

Draco nodded.

"You're the king of a realm that's been faced with the threat of Saxon invaders for a few years. They've steadily grown bolder, to the point that a routine patrol through your lands might invite an attack from Saxon bandits. And when you, the king, go back the day after to check for injured or stragglers, you come across a harmless looking girl who promises she's no danger to anyone – but once you're within stabbing distance, she attempts to kill you. Are you with me so far?"

Again Draco nodded.

"You don't want to execute this girl. You dislike executions as a whole. However, you're the king, and not only was she a part of a Saxon raiding party, she personally attempted to kill you. You offer her ways out from this – a confession of guilt in exchange for banishment, even though you know that she's going to run straight into the arms of your kingdom's enemy. She remains defiant, claiming she did nothing wrong, and would do it again if given the opportunity. She would try to kill you again if she had the chance. You are the ruler of an entire kingdom, Draco, and its safety and security must come first, above any personal feelings you or any of your knights may have. What do you do?"

Draco's mouth opened and shut, but no noise came out, and he looked at Harry with wet, anguished eyes. "Oh," he said in a small voice. From the shock on his face, Harry guessed this was likely the first time he'd ever tried to see those few miserable days from someone else's perspective.

"'Oh' is right," Harry said, but very kindly, and when he pulled his sniffling knight into a half-hug he was met with no resistance. "I am sorry that I had to make that decision about someone you loved," he said. "I truly am. But I must ask. Are you still my knight?"

Draco's answer, mumbled into Harry's shoulder, was unintelligible, but his nod was understood easily enough.

"And my friend? May I still call you that?"

This question saw Draco pull away and take a step back. "Why would you even want to?" he asked shakily, wiping his eyes roughly.

"Because young people in love are selfish, rash, and stupid," Harry said, and dodged Ginny's pointy fingers as she jabbed them at his side. "Christ! Keep those to yourself, love! But the young man I knighted, the one I called a friend, was courteous, friendly, thoughtful, and intelligent. So, are we really going to have the coroner's inquest on our friendship read 'cause of death: adolescent stupidity'?"

He was smugly pleased with himself that his words startled a laugh out of Draco. "Yes, alright," Draco said. He wiped his face a final time and offered up a weak smile. "If that's the alternative, then I guess I really have no choice. Friends." He proffered his hand, and Harry reached out and gripped his forearm. It felt –

It felt like they had just healed something for which there was no cure. Like that chapter of their lives, although long since ended, was finally over in a way that it hadn't yet been. There was a distinct sensation of magic in the air surrounding him and Draco, and as it washed over them, Harry said, "You know, I think fate's done using the two of us as play toys."

"I think you're right," Draco agreed. The magic faded away as they let go, and he cast a sidelong glance at Hermione. "What about you and Morgana? Is fate done playing with the two of you?"

"She's Hermione," Harry said, as if that said it all. Judging by Draco's crooked smile, it clearly did. "There was no way we weren't going to sort through it all and forgive each other for everything."

"To make a very long and ugly story short, in order to stop a band of undead knights and save Camelot, Arthur, his knights, and, well, everyone, basically, Merlin had to kill the living being to which the spell animating the knights was anchored," Hermione said. "I was that anchor. Morgause brought me back to life, but I came back, ah, incomplete – lacking in things like empathy, and definitely missing more than a passing acquaintance with sanity. And those two years chained in the bottom of an oubliette…with my poor Aithusa…they didn't help the situation all." She turned to address the elder Malfoys, who had been silently watching their reconciliation with Draco, and she knotted her fingers together nervously, squeezing and twisting until her knuckles were white and bloodless.

"In our last life, I gave you more than enough reasons to hate me – both of you, if you are who I think you are, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said. "And in this life, Mr. Malfoy, the things you've done to muggles like my parents, what you did to me and my schoolmates and especially to Ginny with that diary, all that you've done in service to Voldemort…. In this life, Mr. Malfoy, I never truly hated anyone, or feared them, with such stomach-churning intensity before you. Perhaps you were…you were my me."

Mr. Malfoy studied her with a level gaze in the silence that followed. After it became nearly unbearable, and Harry was about to say something, anything, just to break the silence, Mr. Malfoy spoke. "Perhaps. But then, I don't recall you ever endangering children, Miss Granger, even unknowingly. We have both been the torturers, though I will say that there is little doubt in my mind that you've done quite a bit less than I have in either life, and we have both been the tortured, but again, facing the Dark Lord's Cruciatus curse when he's displeased seems the far more pleasant option when compared to two years in an oubliette. And in your own, violent, admittedly less than sane way, you wished to see the Old Religion returned to Camelot as well."

"Yes, because nothing says 'I'm ushering in a new era of peace and stability' like a violent coup," Hermione joked timidly.

The small, polite smile that Mr. Malfoy gave her in response actually reached his eyes. "Indeed."

From behind Harry came the sound of a throat clearing, and Snape's hand, followed by his bony wrist and muggle wristwatch, were shoved into his line of sight.

"Er, right," Harry muttered, and then said louder, addressing the Malfoys, "I'm not saying that everything is sunshine and rainbows and we're all the best of friends now – you and I definitely need to have a serious chat, Mr. Malfoy, and I'm sure you know that goes for you and Ginny as well – but perhaps we could work out our issues while we walk? We're on a bit of a deadline. We have people back at – back at my reincarnated mum's place, who are giving Mrs. Weasley the run-around while we're out here looking for Merlin. So if we don't want an in-person Howler when we get back, we really need to get moving. Coming?"

"You know where Emrys is?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

In response, Harry let the little crystal dangle from his fingers. All eyes were on it as it still pulled stubbornly toward the northeast. "Behold, my mighty and all-powerful Merlin detecter."

"'Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair'?" Hermione quoted.

Harry gave her a dirty look, which she replied to with a wink. "Do I strike you as being anything like Ozymandias?"

"You did have a rather high opinion of yourself when you were younger," she said as they began to walk, their group absorbing the Malfoys. "Though I am surprised you know the poem."

"As a prince, sweostor. Trust me, by the time Uther died and I was crowned king, my high opinion of myself had been whittled down to merely a healthy measure of self-respect."

"Though he did have his moments," Ginny murmured to Hermione, and they both muffled snickers.

"I heard that," Harry said. "And I read, Hermione. Just because I don't consider a musty old thousand-paged book 'light reading' doesn't mean I don't enjoy a few good books or a volume of poetry or two to pass the time in the summer."

"Dudley chucks his schoolbooks in your room when he gets home, doesn't he?" Ron asked.

"Yes he does," Harry said. "And thank magic for that, or I'd have died of boredom a few summers ago."

"Or starvation," Ron muttered.

"Over and dealt with," Harry said firmly. "I'm not saying it's forgotten, but let's leave that in the past where it belongs."

"Yes, speaking of the past," Mrs. Malfoy said. They all waited expectantly, but nothing further came from her.

Mr. Malfoy sighed. "Yes, thank you, Narcissa. Miss Weasley, I deeply apologize for the pain I put you and your loved ones through by giving you that diary."

Ginny looked thoughtful, and it was with the same thoughtful air that she answered. "Did you know what it would do?" Beside her, Hermione whispered a spell into the palm of her hand.

"No." Mr. Malfoy was behind them, but Harry would swear he sounded almost embarrassed. "I knew it was a very dark artifact, and I'd hoped that its discovery on your person at Hogwarts would lead to your father being fired from his job at the Ministry."

"You had no idea that you were loosing a teenage psychopath with a pet basilisk on the school?"

"I hold my son's safety as paramount," Mr. Malfoy said. "If that had been my intention, I would have pulled him from Hogwarts and transferred him to Durmstrang…and advised the parents of his friends to do likewise."

"Knowing what you do now, if you were still one hundred percent Lucius Malfoy, not the reincarnation of this 'Alator', would you do it again if you found yourself back in Flourish and Blotts on that day?"

"No," Mr. Malfoy said, quiet but vehement. "A thousand times, no."

"He's being honest," Hermione said, and held out her cupped hand to reveal a small bright light the size of a shooter marble. "It stayed white." She closed her fist tightly around the light, then opened it to show an empty palm.

"Pr-Gaius?" Ginny asked. "Your opinion?"

"On the one hand, Alator tortured me under Morgana's orders until I gave him the name and location of the elusive 'Emrys'," Snape said. "On the other, once he had it, he freed me and swore to protect the secret with his life."

"Did he keep his vow?" Ginny asked.

"He did," Gaius said. "Lucius Malfoy is a sly and dangerous man, but Alator of the Catha is most certainly a man of his word."

"Alright, then, Mr. Malfoy. Indulge me a few more questions. How would you differentiate Alator of the Catha from Lucius Malfoy?" Ginny asked.

Mr. Malfoy's answer was slow in coming, and he chose his words carefully. "As Alator, I wished to see those with magic free to practice it without fear of persecution from those without it. As Lucius, I…I grew up like many purebloods in old, dark families do, convinced of our inherent superiority. When I was a young man, I was…seduced…by the charisma of the Dark Lord and the promises of power over muggles and the muggleborn. Power that we would take by a show of violence and force. It was a heady and addictive vision of the future for a young pureblood not long out of Hogwarts, especially one with a fondness for the Dark Arts."

"And which view do you subscribe to now?" Ginny asked.

"Let's just say that my Alator side is strong enough to leave the half of me that's Lucius deeply ashamed of my so-called exploits," Mr. Malfoy said gravely.

Ginny looked up at Harry. "I'm satisfied."

Harry tipped his head in acknowledgment. "I trust my queen's judgment, Mr. Malfoy," he said, "And not only has Gaius vouched for your past self, but Hermione has confirmed your honesty through magic. Very well. We shall treat with you as we would any other ally. However, my method of working through troubling issues isn't nearly as calm and level-headed as Ginny's, and you don't strike me as a shouting-till-you're-red-in-the-face, blowout-argument type of person. So I propose that we exchange letters over the remainder of the summer and work through our, er, past disagreements the way that Hermione and I did regarding our past lives."

"Thank you," Mr. Malfoy said, and after a moment's hesitation added quietly, "Your Majesty. I'm amenable to your suggestion. However, I would amend the idea to that of you exchanging letters with Draco as a cover. A fifteen year old receiving letters from a school friend is far less likely to attract the Dark Lord's attention than one of his top lieutenants suddenly taking up frequent and secretive correspondence with an unknown witch or wizard."

"Good idea," Hermione said. "It's less likely to get you killed, too."

"Yes, there is that," Mr. Malfoy said. Harry didn't think he was imagining the dark humor in his voice.

"Then that's what we'll do," Harry said. He glanced over his shoulder at Draco's mother and said, "I don't mean to be ignoring you in the slightest, Mrs. Malfoy. We've just never had any real trouble with one another. If you don't mind my asking, who –"

"Who am I?" she finished for him. "Finna, Harry. I hope you don't mind me addressing you so casually."

"By all means, address away," Harry said with a wave of his hand. "So, Finna?"

"Yes," she said. "Finna, druid and high priestess of the Old Religion."

"Now I understand your complaint," Hermione said, shooting Draco a smile. "Poor Mordred, surrounded by two of Merlin's biggest fans all summer."

"It was unbearable," Draco moaned, and with hesitant looks at both his parents and Hermione, took a long stride to join Hermione near the front of the group, walking by her side.

Again he looked torn between reaching out to her and holding himself back. Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who smiled ruefully and slipped an arm around Draco's waist. "I really don't care who you came back as. I missed you dearly, my friend."

Draco gingerly laid his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and when no one so much as glared at him, all the tension seemed to flow out of him and he settled his arm more firmly about her. "I'm sorry about the mudblood mess," he mumbled. "And that hex that hit you and made your teeth grow. And talking to Skeeter about you. And –"

"Hush," Hermione commanded, laying her head against Draco's wiry shoulder. "Let's not ruin the reunion by rehashing your idiotic schoolboy antics."

"As you wish," he said agreeably.

"Life couldn't possibly get any stranger," Ginny said, her voice pitched so that only Harry would hear her.

"Never say that," Harry said, equally quiet. "That's usually what you hear right before 'strange' becomes 'mind-bogglingly insane'." They both laughed under their breath, knowing that his words were more than likely correct.

They made the rest of the trek in relative quiet, Harry ignoring the soft conversations taking place around him in favor of concentrating on the crystal in his right hand and Ginny on his left arm. His 'Merlin detector' led them up streets heading north, and every so often they cut across to the east to walk up another northbound street. The shops and inns and pubs slowly disappeared, making way for houses. The crowds thinned out and then vanished altogether. Then, finally, they reached Ferryman Road, and the crystal swung sharply east.

"Down this way," Harry said, leading the way as they all scrutinized the houses for some sign that one of them might belong to Merlin. They were midway down the street when the crystal swung once again, a hard right directly in front of a house with overgrown hedges obscuring their view. It practically quivered in his hand. Harry grinned.

"Glamours off, everyone. We're here."

Snape obliged with quick and silent wandwork. He must have taken off his disguise as well, as he heard a gasp from Mrs. Malfoy and a stunned "Severus?" from Mr. Malfoy, but he didn't give them any time to really react to the revelation, as he was striding through the open gate and up to the front door, crystal clutched in his hand and everyone following at his heels.

Harry reached out with his free hand and touched the door knocker shaped like the Pendragon crest. "Definitely the right house," he said, and rapped it sharply against the door.

From within, someone called out a muffled "I'm coming, I'm coming," as footsteps pounded in their direction. After an agonizingly long moment, the footsteps came to a stop on the other side of the door, and the owner of the voice pulled it open wide.

Merlin, gawky, lanky, big-eared Merlin, stood right inside the house, looking – almost unbelievably – younger than he had when Harry had seen him last. He stared at the unlikely group on his doorstep and said, "The Boy-Who-Lived, his friends, the Malfoy family, and a Hogwarts professor knock on a door. Sounds like the set-up to a bad joke."

"It really does, doesn't it?" Harry said. He was still grinning broadly. He knew, he just knew, that if he stopped smiling and thought about when he last saw Merlin, he'd turn into a weepy mess.

"If you're collecting for Hogwarts or something, I make a yearly donation to the scholarship fund," Merlin said, "So there's no point in asking me for more. And, uhm, I'm a bit busy at the moment, so if you don't mind…."

"What," Harry said, "Were you expecting some other clotpole to come rescue you from boredom and New Age religion?"

Merlin started. "No," he breathed, eyes widening at he looked Harry up and down. "Arthur?"

Harry let go of the leather thong tied to the crystal and watched his 'Merlin detector' fly across the space between them to stick to Merlin's chest. "Found you," he said, his grin growing even bigger.

The only answer he received was Merlin tugging him across the threshold and enveloping him in a fierce hug. "Oh, Arthur," Merlin said, half laughing and half sobbing.

As Harry returned his oldest friend's hug with equal ferocity, he realized that he was wrong. He didn't have to stop smiling to turn into a weepy mess.

I'm just going to come out and say it: if you dislike stories that have some diversity when it comes to the sexual orientations of the characters, even if they're just secondary or tertiary characters, then this fic is probably not going to be to your taste. If you feel the need to know ahead of time exactly who's ending up with whom and to what degree their relationship will be portrayed in the story, or you just have a burning need to know if a specific character is straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, or even asexual, drop me a line via PM or review and I'll fill you in (without spoiling the story, even!).

Reviews are love!