A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys, and thanks so much for putting me on your alerts and favorites lists! Made my day! I want to thank the two people who corrected my logic on time travel. I wasn't thinking correctly; it does make sense that the three of them dying in the past would not affect them being born. I'm going to try and smooth that over the best I can, with a little help with Kilgharra, in the next few chapters or so. Thanks so much for the constructive criticism, you guys. Oh, and just to clarify, I am a beta reader. Just thought I'd throw that out there, LOL! If you get a chance, check out my other two Merlin stories, Reflections and To Kill the Prince. I'd love to know what you think about those, too!

Great big thanks to Nimbus Llewelyn, ruby890, footprints. on. the. ceiling, Catindahat, Luiz4200, and FireChildSlytherin5 for reviewing chapter 8—you guys are incredible! Please, keep it up! :D Hopefully you'll enjoy this next chapter; things are really coming to the point where they are picking up pace now.

The Most Deadly Alliance

Chapter Nine

Arthur had no idea what happened. One moment, he and the three visitors were laughing—finally relieving some of that blasted tension that had been hovering over the four of them since they first met—and the next, Harry was gripping his forehead and falling out of his chair and onto the stone floor, cracking the back of his skull against the floor. Arthur jumped up, but Hermione and Ron beat him to the unconscious boy.

"Harry?" Hermione asked frantically, exchanging a terrified, almost knowing look with Ron. "Harry, can you hear me?"

Arthur knelt on the floor and placed a steady hand on the youth's forehead. "He hasn't got a fever," he said slowly. "He just…collapsed."

"We can see that!" Hermione snapped. Arthur looked up from Harry's prone body, as did Hermione, and met the girl's fearful brown eyes with a start. Looking ashamed, Hermione muttered, "I'm sorry, Sire, I just…" She gazed worriedly at her friend.

"No need to apologize, Hermione," Arthur quickly assured her.

During this quick exchange, Ron was shaking Harry's shoulders, trying to rouse him. "C'mon, mate, wake up."

The three of them jumped as a shout—one of fear or of pain, Arthur couldn't quite discern—escaped Harry's lips. He began to writhe slowly, his brow beading with a cold sweat. His fingers twitched and a vein in his neck seized up as he turned his head sharply to the side, as if struggling to escape from something terrible looming above him.

At almost the same moment that Harry's fit began, another scream resounded from somewhere down the hall. His eyes wide, Arthur breathed, "Morgana." He jumped up and was almost out of the door when he remembered Harry, who was still in the midst of some sort of fit. "Stay with him," he ordered curtly. He rushed out of the door and into the serving boy that had been waiting right outside in case Arthur needed them.

"Sire?" the boy said hesitantly, trying without success to subtly look around the prince's broad frame and into the chambers where Ron and Hermione were trying unsuccessfully to rouse Harry. "What's going on; are you alright? I heard a scream—"

Arthur didn't give the lad time to finish, needing to get to Morgana. He was sure that Gwen was already there, comforting the girl that had grown to be like his sister, but he had to see her, see that she was alright, with his own eyes. "Go fetch Gaius," he ordered. "Tell him that Harry has passed out and is having some sort of…seizure and that Morgana has woken up screaming again, probably from a nightmare. Tell him to bring Merlin with him, as hard as it may be for me to believe, the idiot might be of some use since we have two patience." He said all this very quickly. The servant blinked rapidly a few times, as if trying to process and interpret the orders he had been given.

"Now!" Arthur barked, perhaps a bit more gruff than he had originally intended.

Without another second of hesitation, the boy jumped at the command, dipping his head in respect to Arthur and darting down the hallway in the direction of the physician's chambers. Giving one last glance at the three teenagers, Arthur ducked out of the room and tore down the corridor in the direction of the scream and contemplating the odds of both Harry and Morgana falling to some sort of delusion simultaneously. It was odd…and, if he were honest, a bit creepy as well.

He reached Morgana's room and barged in without knocking, common courteously having been overrun by an intense desire to make sure his friend was safe. In all the years that Morgana had suffered from nightmares, however, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he barged through the , who, with his evening off, had decided to use that time wisely and try and seek out some sort of solution for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Although he personally had no idea where to begin in order to help the trio, he had a hunch that there was someone—someone much older and more knowledgeable when it came to magic and the Old Religion than Merlin—that could give him a starting place. As he took the flaming torch off the wall, checking over his shoulder to make sure the guards watching over the entrance to the cave deep beneath the castle, Merlin snorted in derision. Sure, he would receive some sort of answer—but it would be so convoluted and deeply wrapped in riddles that it would take him ages to discover just what it was that he needed to do. He started down the massive, dark stone staircase, holding the torch out before him, its flickering, dancing flames his only source of light. Still, he thought, any advice was better than none, no matter how confusing.

He reached the end of the staircase and emerged through a colossal arch and onto a sturdy stone cliff that jutted out from the floor of the tunnel and over the rocky bottom of the underground cave far below.

Kilgharra was waiting for him, perched on a large slab of stone in the middle of the enormous cavern. The Great Dragon's forelegs were stretched comfortably in front of the gigantic reptile, his heavily taloned feet crossed almost delicately before him. Golden eyes, bigger than Merlin's head, watched the warlock from a vantage point high above, due to the creature's size and the length of his serpentine, graceful neck that held that massive, horned head up proud and high.

"Young warlock," the dragon almost purred, dipping his head down to where he was almost face-to-face with Merlin. The boy fought the urge to step back. Although he had known the dragon for several months and had come to realize that Kilgharra was not interested in harming—or eating—him, the fact that a giant reptile with a head twice the size of Merlin's body still sent a shiver of uncertainty down Merlin's spine. Almost as if sensing the wizard's discomfort, the Great Dragon backed its head away, still keeping it at roughly the same level as Merlin's.

"I have come to ask for your advice," Merlin said, his heart pounding with anticipation and dread at the same time. While he hoped that the dragon would be able to give him some answers or at least a starting place for figuring this out, another part of him almost wished that the dragon would not be able to help, or would at least be delayed a few weeks in thinking of a solution. Merlin knew it was terribly selfish of him, but he couldn't help the sadness that tugged at his heart when he thought about losing the three people that he could be himself around, his new friends who both accepted him for who he was—even hero-worshipped him for it, to a certain extent—and, most importantly, who understood. He wasn't sure he was ready to lose that bond quite yet.

He thought of their story, however, and of all that Harry had been through—of what they all had been through. He thought of the stories of pain and suffering that he had heard, about how this evil, monstrous excuse for a sorcerer, Lord Voldemort, had ripped apart families, murdered innocent men, women, and children, destroyed lives, and driven a fear so deep into the hearts of his followers and enemies alike that even ten years after his disappearance, feared to say his name. Merlin shuddered to think about what would happen in the future if Harry Potter hadn't been around to stop Voldemort.

"Of course you have," the dragon said smoothly. "I had a feeling you'd be coming."

"So you know why I'm here?" Merlin asked, surprised. Sometimes he wondered how a creature, despite how powerful, contained hundreds of miles beneath the surface of the earth, could know so much.

Kilgharra snorted. "I said I knew you'd be coming, Merlin, not that I knew why you were coming. If I knew that, I could have avoided this ridiculous conversation altogether."

Feeling a bit silly but more patronized than anything, Merlin wanted to know, "How was it you knew I was coming?"

"Just as you have the ability to sense magic when it draws near, Merlin, so do I. Although I do not know exactly what has brought you here to me—although I highly doubt it is merely a social call—I sensed a powerful magic entering Camelot a few days ago. And more often than not, young warlock, when magic of any kind comes to Camelot, trouble brews, and when trouble is brewing, you always seem to think that I have all the answers."

Merlin's brow wrinkled as he mentally went over all the multiple times he had been aided by the dragon. "But…you do always have the answers," the boy said.

At this, the dragon laughed, its low, throaty chuckle sounding more like a growl than anything else. "You put too much faith in others with magic, Merlin, even in me. But in contrast, you do not put enough faith in yourself."

Merlin thought about his earlier conversation from the Hogwarts students and how he had told them that he didn't think he had it in him to help them out much. He had openly admitted that he didn't have as much faith in himself as they put in him.

"Perhaps not," Merlin said slowly, trying to gauge the way the conversation was going and figure out how to best bring about the topic of the time-traveling trio. "But having too much faith in yourself is also a bad thing, isn't it? It constitutes pride."

"And what do you know about the difference between pride and humility?" Kilgharra challenged.

Merlin scoffed, "I know what pride looks like. I have to live with Arthur every day."

"Hmmm." Kilgharra neither agreed to or refuted the jab at the prince, but instead changed the subject, asking, "What is it that you have come to ask, Merlin?"

Taking a deep breath, Merlin quickly but thoroughly told the Great Dragon of the happenings of the past several days, from Gwen's discovery of the threesome in the corridor near Morgana's chambers to their conversation just a few hours before. Merlin decided to leave out all the three had told him about the great and powerful warlock he would become because thinking about what he was supposed to become made him feel more than a bit uncomfortable. It had been enough pressure just to know that the Druids had prophecies about him, the great Emrys, and that it was his destiny to protect Arthur and help bring magic back to Camelot. Hearing all the mind-boggling stories about how famous he was, thousands of years in the future and how his legacy would live on forever was enough to make him sweat. For someone who had come to Camelot to get away from the problems his magic was causing him, he sure had a lot resting on his shoulders and abilities.

Kilgharra listened to his tale with rapt attention, his golden eyes never once leaving Merlin's face. When the boy had finished, the dragon sat in silence for a long moment.

"Well…do you know anything that could help?" Merlin asked hesitantly.

Kilgharra's eyes flashed dangerously. "This is not something to be treated lightly, young warlock. The fabric of time is being hemmed and altered, and these loose threads are working against your destiny and the future of Albion."

Merlin glared at the dragon, indignant. "Harry, Hermione, and Ron would never work against me!"

"Not intentionally," Kilgharra agreed. "But this young witch Hermione seems like a very wise girl. When she said that their being here, in their past and our present, in Camelot is dangerous, she was not exaggerating. In fact, one might go as far as to say that she was underestimating the problem."

"But if we can get them back…" Merlin began hopefully, his words trailing off into silence as Kilgharra shook his great head.

"The damage will have already been done," he said.

"What caused them to come here?" Merlin mused. "Time travel is very difficult to do, something only someone acquainted with the Old Religion could dream of doing. Surely you're not suggesting that they found their way here intentionally?"

"No, only a creature of great magic of the Old Religion could have sent them here, like you or me."

Merlin shook his head hastily. "I'm not all that powerful. And besides, I wouldn't have messed with the future even if I was that strong in my magic."

"Again, do not underestimate your powers, Merlin. You are so much stronger than you know—yours is a great destiny."

"I know," Merlin said wryly, "so I've been told."

"Obviously I didn't summon these three magicians here, and neither did you. Who else do you know of that has power enough to summon people from the future into the past? Someone with great ties to the Old Religion, perhaps even a priestess of its ways?" the dragon pressed, waiting for Merlin to catch his meaning.

A few seconds later, Merlin's blue eyes seemed to darken when the realization of who Kilgharra was talking about struck the warlock. "Nimueh?" he breathed, and Kilgharra inclined his head in acknowledgement. "But…what would she want with Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Why bring them here, back in time?"

"I do not know all the answers, Merlin," the dragon said, shifting positions slightly, which Merlin knew was a sign that he would be taking flight very soon. "But I do know this—the fate of not only their world is in peril, but our world and the future of Albion and yours and Arthur's destiny. I will help you in whatever ways I can, but you must not be afraid to do whatever it takes to make this right, no matter the cost."

"But I don't even know where to start!" Merlin protested as Kilgharra moved again, preparing to lift off.

Kilgharra eyed Merlin with a grave stare. "Young warlock, you know who is behind this. You have a starting point."

"Nimueh?" Merlin repeated, the thought of facing the woman who had tried to kill him and Arthur several times, a very powerful sorceress and a priestess of the Old Religion. "But—but I have no idea where to find her."

"Young warlock, if Nimueh is truly behind this, there will be no need to find her. Oh, no, Merlin…she will most definitely come to you."

"I…don't understand," Merlin admitted. "Why would she do that?"

"Merlin, you have a great destiny and have immense powers that Nimueh covets. She has worked against you do destroy you and your destiny before, and it would be foolish to assume that she is not trying again. She will make herself known to you when the time comes, and you must be ready for her. Whatever her reason for bringing these three young wizards here at this, such a dangerous time for them, it has something, if not everything, to do with you."

Merlin nodded slowly. "Maybe she knows of what will happen in the future, with Voldemort and everything, and she could be trying to get them exposed and killed by Uther so that they will have never been born."

"It is a good assumption, Merlin, except that killing the three of them, even in the past, will not prevent their births. No, the only way to stop someone from being born is to cut off their family line and it would have been far easier to kill one of their ancestors, not the the wizards themselves."

Merlin wondered how Hermione would react to learn that she had made such an error in her logic. Although they hadn't known each other for long, Merlin could tell that she hated being wrong. "So what would happen if they died?"

"They would do just that—die. It would be as if they had died back in their time, except their bodies would never be found in the future because they are, as of now, in the past."

Merlin shook his head wearily. "This is all a bit too confusing for me," he complained.

"Perhaps," the dragon said, spreading his great wings and lifting off of the rock. He raised his voice so that Merlin could hear him over the heavy pounding of his wings. "But it is up to you, young warlock, to discover what is going on and to put a stop to it. You must get the three visitors back to their time."

"Wait!" Merlin cried, having just remembered something else. "Can I bring them to meet you?"

Frowning, Kilgharra replied, "You must do what you think is right, young warlock. Just bear in mind that with every being those three make contact with, the more they mess with the past."

"I will be careful," Merlin promised.

"We'll see, young warlock. We shall see," the dragon said, flying off into the darkness of the underground cave, his chains rattling behind burst into Morgana's room to nearly slip on a puddle of sick on the floor. Hurrying to her side, where Gwen fussing about with the covers, Arthur gazed down at Morgana's sleeping—or was she unconscious?—form. "Is she ill?" he asked worriedly. Of course she's ill, you idiot, he mentally berated himself. There wouldn't be sick on the floor if she wasn't. Rephrasing his question, he asked, "What happened?"

"Sire," Guinevere said, making to stand, but Arthur shook his head.

"No need for formalities, Gwen. What happened?"

Looking as if she were about to cry, Gwen said, "She woke up screaming, like she does often. This time, however, she wouldn't wake up. Her eyes were open but it was if she were trapped in some kind of nightmare. Whatever she dreamed about scared her so much that she…she got sick. I wasn't sure what to do, I couldn't just leave her here alone to fetch someone…I'm sorry, I…"

"Guinevere," Arthur said sternly, "you have nothing to be sorry for. I wouldn't have wanted to leave her alone either." He paused. "She fell back asleep?"

Gwen hesitated before answering. "No, Sire, I think she passed out."

Arthur leaned over and put a hand on Morgana's forehead. Like Harry's had been, her brow was not hot but instead covered with a cold sheen of sweat. At his touch, Morgana's eyes flew open. "Arthur?" she whispered, looking confused.

"I'm here," Arthur said softly, squatting down beside the bed so he could communicate easier with her. He studied his father's ward in the flickering illumination of the bracketed candles on the walls. Her face was pale and a terrible fear rested in the depths of her green eyes. "Morgana, don't worry, I've sent for Gaius; he'll be here to attend to you—"

Eyes wide as if she had just remembered something important, Morgana shook her head. "No, not Gaius. I don't need to speak to him."

"Morgana," Arthur said in a weary tone, assuming that she was simply trying to play the hero, "you had a terrible nightmare and you even got sick. Gaius needs to look at you."

"No," Morgana breathed, sitting up in bed and ignoring Gwen who was trying in vain to make her lie back down.

"My lady, you really should lie still," Gwen advised, but Morgana simply grew more agitated.

"Gaius should be here soon," Arthur said soothingly.

Her eyes flashing in the dim light from the candles, Morgana said, "It's not Gaius I need to talk to!"

Gwen glanced between Morgana and Arthur, wondering if this had anything to do with Morgana's earlier ramblings.

"Alright," Arthur said, putting his hands in the air as if surrendering. "Who is it that you have to talk to so badly?"

Morgana stared off into space as if thinking about something that she would rather just forget, fear swimming amongst the unshed tears in her olive eyes. "Merlin."

Merlin strode into Gaius's chambers, not expecting to see Ron and Hermione, as well as the physician, waiting for him around Gaius's table. "Er…what's going on?" he asked, seeing the grim looks on their faces. He looked around. "Where's Harry?"

"In your bed," Gaius answered promptly.

"Ah," Merlin said simply, glancing around to see if anyone was going to explain further. When he realized that no one was going to any great lengths to satisfy his curiosity, he prompted, "Not that I'm not…er…happy to let him use it, but why exactly is Harry sleeping in my bed?"

"He is suffering from the scar's effects on his forehead," Gaius said. Merlin exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, knowing that this had to be something to do with the pain he had felt in his scar earlier. Was Voldemort somehow getting stronger? Angrier? Closer? Why was Harry being affected by the cursed scar so much, now of all times? Merlin wondered if all this business with Nimueh had anything to do with it.

"Is he alright?" Merlin wanted to know.

"Yes, I've given him a sleeping draft so he should sleep through tomorrow. I apologize, Merlin, for giving him your bed, but after the…episode…he suffered, I would like to keep a closer eye on him. I'm wondering if I missed something in my initial exam. This scar could have indeed left some residual dark magic that I simply missed on my first go."

Merlin again changed worried looks with the other two wizards. He had a feeling that they needed to tell Gaius everything—before it went too far and they got caught in their lies. Merlin made a mental note to talk to Ron, Harry, and Hermione about it later—he was sure they could be trusted. After all, although Uther might not believe them, he was sure Gaius would, and he would want the balance restored to time as well.

"It's alright," Merlin said quickly.

"We told Gaius that you can take Harry's bed in our chambers for the night, if you want," Ron said, although rather begrudgingly. Merlin saw him sneaking a rather irritable look at Hermione, who looked rather flushed although Merlin couldn't fathom why. Noticing the exchange and Merlin's obliviousness to the attraction Hermione felt for him and the jealousness that Ron had because Hermione liked Merlin, Gaius sighed wearily and shot Merlin an exasperated look that said, "You just don't get it, do you?"

Merlin, more confused than ever, nodded. "Right, that would be great, I'm sure there's loads to talk about," he said pointedly. "Shall we go?"

"Ah, Merlin, before you go gallivanting off to your slumber party, you should know that the Lady Morgana had another nightmare, although this one far worse than any she's ever experienced.

Merlin knew that Gaius suspected Morgana of being a seer, but he wasn't quite sure what this information about Morgana's latest dream had to do with him. "I…er, I'm sorry," he said.

"She woke up screaming and became ill she was so upset. Merlin, she was asking for you when she woke up."

Merlin's eyes widened. Now this he would have never seen coming!

"Me?" he said. "Why on earth would she ask for me?"

Gaius sighed. "I'm not entirely sure. She would not even allow me to treat her until I promised that I would send you along to her chambers as soon as you returned from wherever it is you go when you run off." Merlin glanced at the ground, although he didn't admit that he had gone to Kilgharra for advice—Gaius didn't even know that Merlin knew the Great Dragon existed. Why he hadn't told him, he didn't know. It just didn't seem terribly important.

"Ah…right. Well, I suppose I'll go there right away…" Merlin's voice trailed off as he tried to work out why on earth Morgana would want to see him of all people. As he was about to leave Gaius's chambers, the old man called out to him.

"Merlin! Arthur is very interested in why Morgana was calling for you. He knows that if Uther finds out, you could be in grave danger because the king would almost certainly misinterpret the situation and assume that you and Morgana are…together."

Merlin's face went red. "That's ridiculous. I mean, sure, she's pretty, but she's like royalty, and besides…"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Merlin," Gaius said. Ron and Hermione listened to the conversation in interest but made no move to get involved. This was between Gaius and Merlin. "Just be grateful that Arthur is not telling his father about Morgana demanding to see you, although he does plan on staying in the room when Morgana has a word with you."

Merlin nodded. "Of course."

"Well, off you go, then!" Gaius said, shooing his ward away. "Oh, and Merlin, do come back here and tell me what happened before you go to bed."

Merlin nodded.

"Oh, and Merlin?"

Merlin sighed. "Yes, Gaius?"

"Be careful."

Grinning cheekily, Merlin retorted, "Oh, come on, Gaius, you know I always am." As the servant left the room, Gaius shook his head indulgently.

"Indeed you are, Merlin…and that's what worries me."

A/N: This chapter was much longer than I planned it to be, but the muse just refused to shut up. I loved writing the scene with Kilgharra, it just flowed so well. I know it was kind of silly, me trying to patch up my mistake in the time-space-continuum thing by making the dragon correct Hermione's theory, but I didn't want to let the mistake stay there and fester, but I also don't have the time to go back and rewrite the first seven chapters of this story, so what you see is what you get. I don't think it was too terribly bad, though.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I implore of you to PLEASE review and let me know what you think; this story is SUCH a blast to write. :) I'll update as soon as possible (Friday at the earliest, Monday at the latest, depending on how this weekend goes), promise! REVIEW! :D

~Emachinescat ^..^