A/N: Hey guys! I'm not dead!

So sorry for the big gap. It was for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, I'm currently working on my dissertation and am neck deep in historical archives. Secondly, my laptop died (though mercifully my chapters were preserved on my new favourite website: Dropbox. Thirdly, my gran has been in hospital getting a knee replacement, and when she got out I had to stay with her in her wifi-free house to look after her. All I can say is: sorry! And I hope you can forgive me! :)

I dedicate this chapter to Babydoll9150, as a late birthday present! Your review inspired me to steal my dad's laptop to finally get this story updated! :)

"What do you reckon he's doing?" Ron asked, as he, Harry, Hermione and at least half of the Order sat in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. "Has anyone seen him since last night?"

"He was gone before we got up this morning," said Fred, and George nodded; the three of them had been sharing a room after lending Merlin's own to Muggle refugees. "He's been gone all day. So's Malfoy."

"You think they left together?"

"I doubt it," said George. "Merlin probably wants to be alone. Malfoy must be off on his own somewhere."

"Doing what?" asked Ron suspiciously, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I thought you'd given up all that paranoia over what Malfoy does," she said. "Leave him alone."

"I can't believe of all people you're defending him," said Ron. "I get he's a 'changed man' and all that, but-"

"There are more important things," said Hermione. "We can't turn on each other. We need to decide what to do."

"Isn't it obvious, Hermione?" said Charlie Weasley. "Seven of us have to go thirteen hundred years back in time to get a spell from a bunch of dead priests and change the past."

"But which seven," said Remus, voicing the question everyone had been considering all morning.

"Kingsley will be going," said Bill. "He must be. This is something he'd want to take charge of himself. So will Merlin."

"Probably a bunch of Aurors-"

"Maybe not, maybe it'll be the Order-

"Whoever it is," interrupted Mr Weasley. "Kingsley shall tell us when he returns this evening. The choice is his."

"I don't see why it should be," said Tonks. "Surely this is something we should decide together?"

"We can't decide anything until Kingsley and Merlin return," said Remus heavily.

"But where is he though?" said Ron again.

"He's upset, that's obvious," said Ginny. "He's angry Kilgharrah never told him about the spell. And he doesn't like the idea of it."

"Why?" frowned Charlie. "Can't he see that this is the only way?"

"He's sees it as giving up," said Harry, remembering the look in Merlin's eyes when Kilgharrah had told them of his plan. "He wants to fix this another way."

"There isn't another way," said Ron. "Aithusa's right, why is he so stubborn?"

"He thought this was his opportunity to bring back integration," said Luna, sounding more serious than Harry had ever heard her. "Now that opportunity's gone again. He's sees it as surrendering to the past. He wanted things to change, but things only got worse. Now he's going to have to acknowledge it all as a failure, and that's not something that he wants to do."

Everyone was silent for a moment at the end of this speech.

"Well, he'll have to," said Remus grimly. "We no longer have a choice."

The room fell into further silence as everybody contemplated this. Harry's mind was abuzz.

He understood how Merlin must feel; all those centuries of waiting just to have it all thrown back in his face once again. But, what choice did they have? The world could never recover from this peaceably. They had to do something to end the violence. If that meant giving up on the abolishing of the Statute, then so be it. Surely the lives of countless Muggles and wizards were more important than a fruitless attempt at Reintegration when neither party were ready for it.

It difficult to comprehend the fact that they would literally be able to change the past, erase the events of the past few weeks, that seven of them would shortly be traveling back into the days of Camelot itself.

He wanted to go, he wanted to go so badly he'd make sure he was one of the seven. It wasn't merely curiosity; to see where Merlin grew up and seeing Old Magic in its prime, but he knew he had to. He felt it strongly inside himself. He had to be there. He'd felt so powerless these past few weeks; as much as he'd always hated being 'the Chosen One' and having everybody rely on him, this was one occasion where he was willing to take on the responsibility. This was something he knew he could do. He had to be there for Merlin. He wouldn't give up on him, like he hadn't given up on Harry.

It was the Old Religion telling him this, of that he was certain. He also knew that for some reason, Merlin was having difficulty in interpreting what the Old Religion was telling him. He seemed deaf to it, unable to hear its guidance like he had once. Harry had to help him find it again. He didn't always have to be alone; Harry had learned that the hard way after pushing away people for so long. He couldn't go through this on his own.

A noise on the stairs drew everybody's attention. There was a scuffling sound and some shouts of protest, when the door creaked open slowly, and Mrs Weasley poked her head around. She searched out Harry, and her face was creased with worry.

"Harry, dear," she began, uncertainly, "I think you'd better come-"

"HARRY?"

Harry's heart fell when he recognized that voice, high-pitched and angry, and had only had a few seconds to prepare himself and get out of his chair before the door burst open and someone barged their way past Mrs Weasley.

"You!" Aunt Petunia yelled, stomping towards him, her hair and clothes an uncharacteristic mess, her face void of make-up, blotched with tears and anger. "You- you freak!"

Harry leapt back as she lunged at him. She wheeled around, so angry she looked almost insane.

"You killed him!" she screeched. "You killed your own uncle! You-you and your lot-"

"MUM!"

Aunt Petunia halted in her tracks when she heard Dudley's voice behind her in the doorway. He was standing beside Mrs Weasley, not yelling, not angry, just … crying. Harry started. He hadn't seen Dudley cry, for real at least, since they were very small. He'd never associated Dudley with tears, with human emotion before. If anything, this only increased his guilt.

Dudley was trembling, but looked determined, though his tears. "It wasn't Harry's fault, mum," he said. "He didn't do anything."

"Exactly!" yelled his aunt, turning back to Harry. "Nothing! He goes on tv and exposes the whole family and leaves us all to the mercy of those maniacs! What did he care what happened to us?"

"I-" began Harry, meaning to say 'I'm sorry', but he couldn't. How could 'sorry' make up for what he'd done? How could he ever make this better?

Kilgharrah's plan, he thought to himself. That's the only way to fix this.

"It wasn't Harry's fault," said Ginny, who had leapt to his defence when Harry said nothing. "It was Muggles that killed your husband, not Harry and 'his lot'."

"It might as well have been," hissed Aunt Petunia, her eyes bulging madly. "Is this revenge? Is that it? Did you want him to die?"

"No, I-"

"You didn't think of us at all, did you? Thoughtless! Just like those good for nothing parents of yours-"

"Hey!" said Remus, leaping to his feet to glare at her. "Don't you dare insult James and Lily."

"My husband is dead!" she cried. "I'll do whatever I please!"

She breathed heavily for a few moments, her face wrought with grief, trembling. She looked at Harry, and the anger glimmered in her eyes.

"I knew we should have left you in an orphanage," she said, her voice calmer, but dripping with anger. "Why couldn't you have died along with your parents?"

Those unaccustomed to the Dursley's attitude to Harry gasped aloud, but Harry barely flinched. There would have been a time once when he would have fought back, shouted back at her that he would have preferred being in an orphanage, but he stayed silent. She deserved to be angry with him on this occasion.

"Mrs Dursley," said Mrs Weasley, as comfortingly as she could despite the indignation on her face at what Aunt Petunia had just said. "Come on now, we can get you and your son safely to Hogwarts-"

"I'm not going there-"

"Yes, you must," said Mrs Weasley. "It's the safest place for you."

Aunt Petunia continued glaring at Harry. "I always knew you'd ruin everything," she said, and then, she seemed to deflate. Her anger evaporated, and she seemed almost to collapse in grief. Tears sprang to her eyes and sobs racked her body. Mrs Weasley, her earlier hostility forgotten, rushed forwards to comfort her, and Aunt Petunia did not fight her off. She was guided from the room and offered a handkerchief, not even noticing that it had been conjured from nowhere. Her sobs were soon heard on the staircase, leaving Dudley as the only Dursley left in the room.

He and Harry looked at each other, Harry still shocked at the change he saw in his cousin.

"Dudley, I-" he began, then was lost for words, but Dudley seemed to understand.

"It's alright," he said, his voice trembling. "I know- I know you wouldn't have- I mean … " he took a deep breath. "Don't worry about mum, she's just upset. But, Harry? Please, don't let this go on. You defeated that Voldemort bloke, didn't you? You can stop this all, can't you? Promise me."

Harry looked at him, the man begging for his help, for his expertise, unable to see even the smallest glimmer of the boy who had bullied him as a child, and nodded, feeling oddly emotional.

"I will," he promised. "I'll end this, Dudley. Somehow."

Dudley nodded, and, trying to hide his tears, turned and followed his mother out of the room. No one said anything, and Harry remained standing for a moment, trying to sort out his own confused feelings.

"If we succeed," Harry began, thinking hard. "if we change the past, my uncle won't have died, right?"

"That's right," said Remus, tentatively.

Harry nodded. "Then, I don't care what Kingsley decides. I'm going back. I'll get the spell. I'm not doing it for him, I still don't give a damn about him. But I'm doing for everybody else, like my aunt and cousin who have to live with the consequences of what happened. For all the innocent people that have suffered because we didn't do enough. We need to end this; all those people can't have died because of Verax's mistakes, Kingsley's mistakes, my mistakes, Merlin's mistakes …. We need to make this right. And I'm going to be there to do it."

Everyone looked around at each other.

"To be honest, Harry," said Fred. "We hadn't expected anything different from you."

This couldn't be the only answer, it couldn't be, Merlin thought to himself over and over again, hoping that just by saying it, he could change the reality of the situation. But he couldn't, and he knew it, deep down, though tried not to admit it.

No matter what way he looked at this, it felt like giving up. He'd had the chance at the very beginning before any violence broke out to create the peace he so desired, and he had failed. This really was the only option left to him.

The new found resolve Harry had instilled in him the previous night had been severely tested by Kilgharrah's revelations, but had now returned in full force. He'd wandered the streets of Britain all day, invisible, hoping against hope he would see something, anything, to solve this any other way, but he had not. Instead, he had seen riots, burning homes, frightened Muggles, death and destruction everywhere. There were burning houses, burning cars, burning buses, burning phone boxes, the modern world was being overrun by flame like no time at all had passed since the days of the witch-hunts. Maybe human nature hadn't changed after all.

He hated the idea of erasing everything and beginning over again, hated it with a passion, but accepted now that there was no other choice. This must be done, and he knew he had to be the one to do it.

He'd wound up alone in Slytherin's old castle, the goblins that had been searching the place for treasure now long gone. He stood at the window in the Great Hall and looked out over the village below; earlier he'd seen several police officers escorting people into the jail cells, all of them accused of witchcraft, all of them Muggles. Ironically, the spot the modern police station was sitting on was the exact place where one thousand years ago the Muggles of the village had burned alive Salazar's family. History always repeated itself in cruel twists of fate. Back then it was Muggles persecuting wizards, now it was Muggles persecuting Muggles, and wizards persecuting wizards. Most of the casualties of this conflict were all Muggles, as far as Merlin was aware, less than a third of all victims were genuine wizards or witches.

He hadn't been able to save the innocent victims of the original hunts, but maybe he could save the victims of these ones.

"Merlin?"

Merlin jumped and was immediately on guard, but he turned and saw only Draco, and relaxed somewhat. Draco was frowning.

"How can I surprise you like that?" he said. "Didn't you sense me coming? You usually do."

"I'm distracted," Merlin muttered, turning back to the window. Draco joined him. "That's where I used to live," he said, pointing at the spot the modern baker's shop stood on the high street, barely visible from this distance. "The priest of that ruined church over there caused so much death in this village, and now it looks like there's going to be a repeat of all of that now. The police station is filled with Muggles being questioned for sorcery."

"Are any of them wizards?"

"Course not, just victims of mob hysteria."

Draco nodded, looking slightly sick. He stepped back from the window.

"How did you know I'd be here," Merlin said, looking away also.

Draco shrugged. "I just … knew," he said. "Must be the Old Religion."

Merlin nodded, but couldn't help a stab of annoyance. He was unable to hear the Old Religion, but here it was speaking to Dracowho had barely begun his studies.

"Why are you here though?"

"I don't know," said Merlin. "It just felt right somehow. So much of my life started here. It's where I first met Salazar and first realised the uniqueness of his magic, which led me to Hogwarts. And it became his home again, long afterwards. He's got a reputation for hating Muggles, and that reputation has fuelled so much hatred ever since … maybe if it hadn't been for him, Muggles and wizards could eventually have resolved their differences and the International Statute of Secrecy might never have been needed in the first place. Unfortunately, the wizarding and Muggle aristocracy were both just too blind and too ignorant for too long."

"What would he have made of all this?" Draco asked.

"I have no idea," said Merlin honestly. "He was a great politician, sharp as a knife, but I don't think even he could have resolved this. He hated Muggles."

"Like my family," said Draco quietly. "I …"

"What is it?" Merlin asked, sensing something was wrong.

Draco looked at the ground. "I heard something at Headquarters this morning before I left," he mumbled. "A group of Pure-Bloods began massacring the Muggles in their village."

He took a deep breath. "Some of the Pure-Bloods were my father's cousins," he said heavily. "They were Malfoys. I left before any of the others heard about it and began looking for you."

Merlin nodded, understanding.

"It was nothing to do with you, Draco," he said. "You don't need to feel guilty on their behalf."

"My family has caused me nothing but trouble," Draco said, his hands trembling. "Every time I get somewhere, they push me back. I had to fight to be accepted after the Battle of Hogwarts, and I thought I had been after we defeated the Dark Lord, but then there was my father's trial, and it just reminded everybody of where I came from. Then these last few months I've tried so hard with the Old Magic to prove myself, and then this happens. It'd be better if I just disowned them and dropped the name completely."

"You cannot give up who you are," said Merlin, staring out the window once more. "Believe me, I know. You can never deny it, and you should not try to. You are a Malfoy, you are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's son, that will never change. You need to come to peace with that, Draco. You must, in order to come to peace with yourself."

Merlin sighed heavily. "I've denied so much recently, and denied who I am almost my entire life. I thought I was free of it last year when Morgana died, but I wasn't. Even now I still can't let go of the burdens I feel. I guess I'm so unused to peace, I couldn't see it when we already had it. I shouldn't have encouraged the Liberators, I shouldn't have been so blind."

A second later, there was a spurt of flame, and Fawkes, crooning softly, suddenly appeared on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin turned to him, a smile on his face.

"Yes, Fawkes, I know I was a fool. Forgive me?"

Fawkes squawked in answer.

"I still hate the idea of changing the past, and I don't want to do it, but if we must, then we must," said Merlin, his heart heavy. "Muggles and wizards … maybe we'll just never get along again like we used to."

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky beyond the village, and Merlin shook himself from his morbid thoughts.

"Come on, we need to get back to Headquarters to decide who'll be going back."

"You will," said Draco.

"Yes, and so shall you."

"Me?" Draco turned to him, astonishment all across his face.

"Yes," said Merlin, noticing his terrified expression.

"But why?"

"Because you need to gain something out of this as well," he answered. "I don't know what, but Fawkes has given you his blessing."

"He has?" frowned Draco. "But how-"

It was then he noticed the scarlet feather at his feet that had burned into existence the same time Fawkes himself had appeared on Merlin's shoulder. He looked up, his jaw dropped.

"The Old Religion might not be talking to me," said Merlin, almost smiling. "But Fawkes is. You're coming, Draco."

"But the others- they're far more quali-"

"You're coming."

"So, who's going then?"

"Fred!" chided his mother. "We need to wait-"

"Why?" he asked. "Kingsley's here, Merlin's a given, why do we have to wait for him to come back?"

"Because I have something to say," said Merlin himself, walking in through the door to the kitchen with Malfoy in tow.

"How do you always do that?" Fred asked with a touch of annoyance. "Walk in at exactly the right time?"

"Centuries of practice."

"What is it that you need to tell us?" said Kingsley. He had arrived just moments before and sat at the table, and Harry thought he looked even more stressed than normal. More than ever now, he was determined to succeed.

"I'm going back," he said, unnecessarily, since everybody had expected it.

"Me too," said Harry immediately, and Merlin just nodded, he also having expected it.

Kingsley looked at the two of them. "That, was obvious, Merlin," he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I doubt I could have stopped either of you. What else was there?"

Merlin paused. "Draco's coming too."

"What?" a few people cried. Harry himself was a bit taken aback, and unsure. Malfoy? True, they were no longer enemies, but they were hardly friends either. Was this the best idea?

"Are you sure?" said Remus. "No offence," he said, looking at Malfoy, who had flushed pink. "But surely someone older, more experienced-"

"He's coming," said Merlin shortly. "And what's more, I think it should be only people with Old Magic that go back."

There were a lot of objections now.

"But why?"

"The time we are returning to is a time of the Old Religion," he said. "Magic was freely accepted, but Wand Magic was almost unheard of in this part of this world at this time. It might arouse suspicion-"

"I'm not going if Hermione's not going," said Ron firmly.

"Who said you were going?"

Ron just glared at him. "Harry's going, and so am I, and you'd have to Stun me to stop me," he said firmly. "And if I'm going, so is Hermione. We'd never get anywhere without her."

Hermione flushed slightly, but nodded. "I want to go," she said. "I know I don't have Old Magic, but … I need to be there."

Merlin watched the two of them for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well."

"In that case, I'm going too," said Ginny, standing up. "Someone needs to look after Harry, and Hermione will be too busy with that idiot brother of mine."

"Ginny-" Harry began, but Ginny cut across him, dismissing his objections .

"Leave it, Harry," she said. "Don't even try and talk me out of it."

Harry closed his mouth, knowing what she said was true. Despite still being somewhat worried about her, he admired her for her usual bravery and determination. He knew she'd be invaluable. Mrs Weasley too, looking as though she wanted to object, fell back without a word.

"Hey!" interrupted Fred and George. "How come Ginny and Hermione get to go when they don't even have Old Magic? One of us should be the seventh."

"No," said Merlin. "The two of you must come, or neither. The two of you find strength from each other, your magic is strongest together. You cannot be separated."

"Then who should be the last person to go?"

Merlin thought for a moment, and then turned to a silent presence in the corner of the room.

"I think it should be Luna."

Luna smiled, and not did look surprised in the slightest. "It sounds like fun."

Merlin smiled back.

"Wait a moment," said Kingsley, and he stood up. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with six of the seven members of the team being teenagers. You've all shown greater strength and fortitude than I could ever have hoped for from ones so young, and there's no doubt you're all experienced, but I had hoped to send an official team from the Ministry specially trained-"

"No," said Merlin. "This is the way it needs to be." He looked around at the six people standing around him. "They need to come. They're far more effective than a team of Aurors would be. I trust them all, and they all need to be there. Besides, we shall need to remain inconspicuous, and a group of young people travelling together will attract less attention than the Aurors would."

Kingsley looked at them doubtfully. "It isn't that I don't trust you," he said apologetically. "But is this really what you think is best? What is the Old Religion is telling you?"

Merlin hesitated, but before he could say anything, Fawkes crooned softly.

"Yes," said Merlin. "If it's good enough for Fawkes …"

"Wait, the bird's going and we're not?" said Fred and George indignantly. "Doesn't that count as eight?"

"This bird can travel back on his own steam," said Merlin.

"Phoenixes can travel back in time?"

"I believe this one can," said Merlin, softly petting Fawkes.

Kingsley nodded. "Very well. We have our seven."

About an hour later, they were once again standing on the hillside ruins of Camelot waiting as Kilgharrah and Aithusa came soaring down towards them. Harry felt his pulse racing as he realised just what he had consented to do. In a few moments, he and Merlin and the others would be travelling back in time. It was completely different to all his previous experience; no longer was he travelling back three hours, or seeing the memories of others, he was going back thirteen centuries. He was going back into the glory days of the Old Religion, where the spot he was standing was covered by a magnificent city filled with people.

He suddenly felt a spark of fear, but pushed it to the back of his mind. He had to do this, no chickening out now.

Kilgharrah and Aithusa landed and gave their customary bow to Merlin. Harry's anticipation grew.

"You have decided then?" said Kilgharrah, more of a statement than a question.

The seven going back to the past, including Fawkes, stepped forwards. Kilgharrah looked them all up and down.

"Interesting," he said, though he did not look surprised in the slightest.

"What do we need to know," said Merlin firmly. He still didn't look particularly happy with Kilgharrah, or with the situation in general.

"The spell is in the possession of the High Priests and Priestesses on the Isle of the Blessed," said Kilgharrah. "You shall need to learn it from them."

"And what if they don't want to share it?"

"Then you must convince them," said Kilgharrah.

"That's not helpful."

"When have I ever been helpful, Merlin?"

Merlin almost glared at him, but Kilgharrah did not seem to care.

"Most of you, I believe, being from so far in the future may use your real names without any danger, but I suggest, Merlin, that you do not use your real name when you go back. I believe you should all also alter your appearance to external eyes; history has a way of recording the things we do not want recorded."

"I know," said Merlin. "It's what started Verax on this whole crusade."

Kilgharrah nodded. "You cannot interfere, Merlin. No matter what you see or feel. Things must play out the way they should."

"And how do I know how things should play out?" Merlin asked. "Won't our very being there affect history?"

"You shall know," said Kilgharrah mysteriously. "The Old Religion shall tell you, if you only listen."

"I won't have to avoid my past self, will I?" Merlin asked, looking uncomfortable at what Kilgharrah had said.

"No," said Kilgharrah, and a strange look came into his eye. "The Isle of the Blessed was besieged by Uther and ruined before your birth, Merlin. The world you will be returning to will be unfamiliar even to you. It is not yourself you may run into."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Merlin said. He frowned, seeing a secret in the dragon's eyes. "What is it that you know? Just how long before my time is it we're going?"

"You shall have to discover that for yourself, Merlin," Kilgharrah said. "But not as far as you may think."

Merlin just shook his head, looking weary. "Why must you always speak in riddles?"

Kilgharrah ignored him. "Are you ready?"

Merlin hesitated, and seemed to be bracing himself for something painful. He closed his eyes briefly.

"Yes."

"And so are we," said Harry, despite his racing heart, and he and all the others stood around Merlin, trying to ignore the worried faces of the rest of the Order, Mrs Weasley's being the most prominent.

"Then, I wish you luck," said Kilgharrah.

"Me too," said Aithusa. "I may not have been born back then, but from what I hear, you'll need all the luck you can get."

"Wait a minute," Hermione said suddenly, "how are we supposed to get back?"

"That, young witch, is something you shall have to discover for yourself," said Kilgharrah.

Before any of them could ask any further questions, Kilgharrah had leaned forwards, and opened his massive maw. As he had when he'd healed Aithusa of her injuries, he breathed a glittering golden breath which surrounded them like a mist.

Harry felt immediately like he was falling through the air, though it was not unpleasant like the sensation of travelling by Portkey, nor like Apparition. He couldn't see, all was blackness, and the blazing gold of the cloud that had surrounded them seemed seared onto his eyeballs long after it'd disappeared. He felt strange, light and dizzy, surrounded by nothingness.

It lasted what seemed like an age, a sort of dream-like trance as he fell through history, until, with a sharp thud, his feet hit ground.

His legs, unprepared after falling for so long buckled underneath him, and he tumbled into a tangle of limbs, as everybody around him ended up in a similar situation. He had the briefest sensation of being on a dirt track, with trees all around him before he closed his eyes, overcome with nausea. He took it back; this was much worse than traveling by Portkey.

No one moved for a few minutes, though Ron uttered a few choice swear words. Harry didn't feel able to move without being sick. Eventually, someone in the tangle of limbs stirred.

"Come on," Merlin was saying, though sounding queasy himself. "We can't lie here. Someone will see."

Groaning, the rest of them struggled to their feet, and for the first time, Harry got a good look around.

It was as he had first guessed, they were on some sort of pathway through a thick forest, nothing distinctive on any side but trees. The path looked well-trodden and dusty. Harry took a deep breath, smelling leaves and vegetation all around, and felt his sickness ease somewhat.

Ron was rubbing his behind. "Why does all magical transportation leave you falling on your arse?" he asked angrily. "We can never land on our feet, can we?"

"I thought we would have ended up in Camelot?" said Hermione, holding her stomach.

"Seven people and a phoenix landing by magic in the centre of Camelot would never have been a good idea, even when magic was legal," said Merlin, looking around. "I don't think it advisable we use magic freely amongst or near Muggles, just in case. Kilgharrah probably sent us somewhere else."

"Where though?" said Harry, staring down the seemingly nondescript path. "Where are we? How can we get to the Isle of the Blessed if we don't know?"

"Come on, this is your century," said Ron, looking to Merlin. "Don't you recognise it?"

Merlin scowled at him. "We're on a path in the middle of some trees, Ron," he said, sounding peeved. "Do you expect me to remember every woodland path after thirteen centuries? There's nothing distinctive enough around here to even make a guess." He sighed a moment, and crouched down to the ground.

"Thoroughfares like these were always well-travelled," said Merlin, examining the path, as though he could see some sort of trail the others could not. "We'll meet somebody soon."

"Sooner than you think," said Draco, pointing, and they all looked in his direction to see some small figures a great way down along the path.

Everybody immediately tensed up, but Merlin shook his head.

"I don't sense any danger," he said, even as Fawkes disappeared in a burst of fire. "It's probably just some traders. Let me do the talking. And … well, don't act too modern."

"What do you mean too modern?" Ron asked, but Merlin just motioned for him to be silent.

They all stood silent as the figures grew closer. Harry himself sensed their approaching presences, and confirmed Merlin's statement that they harboured no ill-will, but was still anxious to meet his first seventh century citizens, excluding Merlin.

As they drew closer, it was apparent there were three figures approaching, and all were on horseback, which was enough to make Harry stare.

The lead figure was wearing flowing robes of purple, and was astride a great white stallion, gold gleaming at the reins of his horse, and he had two attendants, both wearing chain mail and carrying spears. Harry felt his amazement increase.

"Follow my lead," Merlin whispered to them all as the lead man made a motion to the soldiers to slow down. "Do what I do."

The lead man brought his horse to a stop just before Merlin, looking them all up and down curiously. Merlin looked up at him, and, to Harry's amazement, bowed his head slightly in a mark of respect. He glared at them all from the corner of his eye, and they followed suit, though Harry felt incredibly stupid. Why were they bowing to a stranger?

"Hwæt eart þū?" the man said, looking directly at Merlin. They all frowned in confusion, but Merlin answered him.

"Wē eart fērend, mīn domne. Wē forweorþan. Hwider eart wē?"

The man frowned. "Eow eart āc dogor onweg fram Camelot, be se mical ēasteweard strǣt betweonen se ac se holt. Hwider eart eow faran?"

"Eall se ōðer castel, mīn domne. Wē geferen a sceaða. Wē forweorþan æghwa. Wē beþearf feorm ac a āwendan gierela."

"Ic besēon þæt," the man said, and he and his men stared at them all strangely, lingering on their clothes, which Harry realised with a jolt were twentieth century Muggle design. He suddenly felt rather embarrassed.

"Wē eart fram a fierlan eard, domne."

"Ic besēon," said the man, though still looking curious. "Se ōðer castel his þrēo mīl west. Ic cweðan eow hræding. Se strǣt eart full of sceaða. "

"Ic þancie þē, domne," said Merlin, bowing his head once more. "Til dogor."

"Ac to eow," the man said, and a moment later, he and his men had ridden off.

Merlin watched them go for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What was that about?" Ron asked. "What language were they speaking?"

Merlin turned back and almost smiled. "That, Ron, was English. The English I spoke when I lived in this century."

"Didn't sound like any English I've heard."

"Yes, it did," said Harry. "It sounds a bit like the language we use for spells." He also recognised it as the language Merlin had used to speak to Arthur at the Hogwarts lake after they had defeated Morgana.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, both are older forms of English which your own tongue has evolved from."

"I didn't even think about the language barrier," gasped Hermione. "How are we supposed to fit in and do what we're supposed to if we can't understand anybody?"

"I'll think up a spell to fix that," said Merlin. "As well as one to change our appearances to everybody who sees us. But first, we must head to the nearest village. It's three miles west of here."

"Three miles?" moaned Ron.

Merlin laughed. "You'll soon find, Ron, there is a lot of walking involved in this century."

"Who was he?" said Ginny, as they began walking.

"No idea."

"But you bowed to him."

"He was obviously a noble," said Merlin.

"How could you know that?"

"Because he was wearing clean, brightly coloured robes and had gold on his horse's reins," Merlin answered. "He was riding a war-horse and had two soldiers attending him. You could tell by the way her was sitting on the horse he was noble. It was obvious."

"And that means we have to bow to him?" Draco asked with disgust. Harry inwardly marveled at the change in Malfoy at this statement; it wasn't so long ago he used to swan about the castle as if he owned it.

"You'll have to get used to it," said Merlin. "In this century, you're the lowest of the low, everybody of higher birth than you demands your respect, and you must bow and treat them with reverence, even if you do not feel it. You'll stick out otherwise.. "

"I can't imagine you ever doing that," said Ron, smirking. "There's no way you fawned over nobility like that."

Merlin smiled. "I didn't when I first came to Camelot, true," he said, reminiscing. "I was ignorant of the way nobles expected to be treated. It'show I came to Arthur's notice. No one else had stood up to him. And even after I learned the codes of behaviour, I didn't always stick to it, unless I wanted to be on somebody's good side. But we can't do that now. We need to keep our heads down."

"But where are we?" Draco asked. "Did you find out?"

"Yes," said Merlin, and for a moment, a slight pained expression crossed his features. "We're on the Great Eastern Road. We're ten miles outside of Camelot."

"We are" Hermione asked eagerly. "Does that mean we get to see it in its height?"

"No," said Merlin, sadly. "We're heading in the opposite direction. It's … its best we don't go there for now. The Isle of the Blessed is in the opposite direction in any case. We have to head there first. And to get there we'll need horses."

"Horses?" Harry asked in alarm. He was expected to ride a horse? He'd never even been near one. He was reassured however by everyone else's (save Luna's) expressions of alarm.

"Yes, it's too far to walk and the spells around the place won't let us get there by magic," said Merlin, not noticing their worry. "It's a good thing I brought some money along."

"Is that wise?" asked Hermione. "Won't they be curious about the coins? They won't have seen our money before. Isn't that a bit suspicious?"

Merlin shrugged. "Gold is gold to these people, they don't care where it came from. I'll transfigure the coins if you want though, just to be safe. You'll also need a change of clothes as well. That man thought we looked like right weirdos. And we do, by this century's standards. Especially the girls, women don't generally wear trousers in this century. And neither do men wear t-shirts and jeans."

"We don't have to wear tights and ruffs do we?" Ron asked worriedly, obviously thinking of Nearly-Headless Nick.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Not unless you want to be laughed at. A peasant's disguise is probably best. Peasants always just blended into the background; it's what made it easier for me to hide my identity."

Suddenly, Merlin stopped dead in the path. He was pale, and blinked a couple of times,

"I'm actually back," he said, almost to himself. "I'm walking away from Camelot. I can't quite believe it …"

"Believe it," said Luna, standing beside him and smiling. "And we're all here with you. "

Merlin looked at her, and nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Alright then, to the Isle of the Blessed."

A/N: I can't say with any certainty when I'll next be able to update. Whenever I can get hold of my dad's laptop (I don't have a new one yet) I have to use it primarily for my dissertation work. But, I'll try and get a weekly update for you :)