Chapter 13
Morgana stood in the centre of the stone circle and closed her eyes. She'd been here before once when she was thirteen. Her father had taken her to on a trip around all the ancient mystical sites of Britain. It had been his attempt to find something to bond with her. Now she looked back on it fondly, but at the time she'd thought it a waste of time – she could do real magic, after all, so why waste time chasing what muggles thought of as magic? Of course, she couldn't feel the power in the land then the way she could now.
She remembered tall, majestic Stonehenge and feeling ever so slightly awed by it. It had a presence that demanded respect But here in Oxfordshire, the Rollwright Stones had been her favourite. They were smaller and less intimidating: she felt like she could squint and see in them the knights-turned-to-stone legend claimed they were.
She took a deep breath and savoured the cool night breeze as it brushed against her cheek and made the rapidly rising humidity endurable. Her feet were bare and she could feel the land beneath her, its power a gentle, steady hum. Behind her, she heard shuffling footfalls and a twig snap as someone approached her. Mordred. He was much noisier in this lifetime, the quiet ways of the druids lost to him.
He'd returned from his trip to the Isle of the Blessed much more thoughtful. Morgana was inwardly quite furious at him for having managed to find the Isle; she'd searched for months after having recovered her memories to no avail, but Mordred had been back within a week. His magic had still been a bit unpredictable then, so she'd sent wizards with him. Mordred's injuries when he'd stumbled back were the only thing that had cooled her anger at his success.
At least she now knew for certain Emrys was alive. Though why the Isle had allowed him to so much as step foot on it was a mystery to her. He, who'd betrayed the Old Religion and sided with the Pendragons had no right to enter the sacred site of magic. She'd heard of the Once and Future King, of course she had, but Arthur had turned his back on magic as surely as his father had.
She would return magic to the land, and through her, it would take its proper place as ruler. Magic's hiding had killed her mother as ridiculous non-magical wars had killed her father.
Her fist clenched. She'd offered. She'd told her father how easy it would be for her to apparate into the middle of the enemy camp with a disillusionment spell and then cast a memory charm on their leaders and their army. True, it might not be something she alone could accomplish, but it was possible. They could make the enemy soldiers - the so-called terrorists - forget why they were fighting and then it would all be over. But her father had refused. He'd even called it wrong, which was nonsense. What would it matter anyway if it brought peace?
Morgana took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. This was not the time to dwell on the past. She opened her eyes and turned to Mordred, smiling slightly.
"How are you feeling?"
Mordred leaned against a large stick as he walked, though some of the colour had returned to his face. She'd tried healing his injuries with her wand, but for some reason it didn't heal them entirely and caused him quite a bit of pain.
"Better," he answered. "The potion helped with the pain."
"Good."
She pointed her wand at a small pile of stones and leaves and transfigured them into a chair. Mordred sank onto it gratefully. Then he yawned. She felt sorry for him: despite having slept through most of the day, he still looked unbelievably tired. It was two hours after midnight now and highly unlikely any of them were getting any sleep soon.
She felt the change in the land and looked over the fields past the stones. "Looks like they're here."
Mordred started and straightened in the chair, where he'd begun to droop, hissing with pain as the movement pulled at his wound.
The first to shuffle her way through the ring of stone was a hag, half-blind and hunched-over, her steps slow but sure. Thin white hair hung down to the small of her back, creating a limp curtain that obscured everything but her rather large nose. When she spoke, she showed a mouth full of vile blackened teeth and tongue.
"Morgana Le Fay," she greeted in a strong, though gravelly voice. "Long have we awaited your coming."
Morgana smiled at her sweetly. "Why thank you. I'm sorry it took so long."
"It took exactly as long as it was meant to."
Morgana frowned, but didn't have time to ask about her meaning as five trolls lumbered into the circle, large stone clubs brandished menacingly in their head-sized fists. One of them wore a massive metal necklace inlaid with coloured rocks that looked as though someone had attempted to crudely shape them into something round-ish, but given up half-way through. A skull dangled off the largest stone, roughly the size of an oversized goose egg. He stepped forward and grunted to Morgana.
She nodded back to him. She'd encountered the trolls during her search for the Isle of the Blessed and impressed them with her command of magic. Wizards had banished them as far away as they could and then had the audacity to claim the right to govern magic, to force them into hiding. They'd eagerly agreed to help her.
The trolls glared at the wizards who apparated into the circle minutes later. The wizards – many wearing Death Eater robes for tradition's sake – drew their wands. The trolls snarled back.
"Peace!" Morgana cried. All eyes turned to her and she smiled, stepping forward between the two groups. "We are all allies here and share the same goals. Together we shall tear the wizarding world apart and subjugate the rest."
There was an uneasy silence and then, slowly, the wizards lowered their wands. The trolls relaxed. Morgana gestured to the young woman who had apparated in last. "Pansy, I've been told your healing spells are rather good. Would you be so kind as to look over Mordred. He's been injured and the Elder Wand doesn't seem to be entirely suitable to such delicate casting."
The dark-haired woman blinked and then bowed slightly. "Of course, my lady."
She then crossed to Mordred, who was still valiantly trying to stay awake. He looked up and watched curiously as she pointed her wand at him and cast a diagnostic spell. She gasped at the damage she saw.
"Merlin! Whatever happened to you?" she asked.
Mordred looked up at her and frowned. "Well... Merlin actually."
She frowned back, looking confused. "As in, Merlin Kingsman?"
That got Morgana's attention. Her head snapped to the young woman. "Merlin Kingsman? Who's that?"
Pansy Parkinson shrugged. "The man who bought the Malfoy Manor, apparently. Don't know much about him. Don't think anyone does, really. Apparently he came out of nowhere and bought the manor on the first day it was selling." Her expression turned bitter. "Even let Draco and his mother continue to live there."
One of the wizards snickered. "Yeah, young Draco Malfoy's there as his companion. Bet the boy's better at that than he was at magic."
More snickers accompanied the statement. Mordred watched as the girl's eyes flashed with anger. He frowned. That didn't sound like Merlin. Merlin would never take advantage of someone like that, he was too good... and since when did he know this? Mordred started when he suddenly felt cool night air directly on his skin. He looked down and saw that his shirt was gone and the dark-haired witch was examining the burn mark just below his collarbone.
He looked up and met Morgana's eyes. They were obviously thinking the same thing.
"Do you know what this Merlin Kingsman looks like, Pansy?" Morgana asked.
Pansy shrugged. "Not really, other than young. I'm not exactly welcome in Diagon Alley right now."
One of the wizards in Death Eater robes stepped forward. "If it would please you, my lady, apparently he is tall with short, dark hair and blue eyes and looks to be in his early to mid-twenties. So say the official auror reports."
Morgana smiled at the man. "Thank you." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "The Malfoy Manor, you say? I do believe Voldemort corrupted that land quite thoroughly..." She smirked. "I should be able to find it easily enough."
She left Pansy to her healing and turned back to the rest of her assembled 'guests'. To the left she noticed a band of bedraggled-looking humans – no werewolves, the remnants of Fenrir Greyback's pack - who'd meanwhile slid into the circle. There was also a second hag present: this one smaller and more stooped and gnarled than the first, though her hair was shorter.
"It seems Emrys has also been reborn," she announced. She sneered. "The druids thought he would be the one to return magic to its rightful place, but they were wrong. They also claimed he was the most powerful sorcerer ever born. There I'm going to prove them wrong. He did nothing to deserve the druid's regard or their support. Fifteen hundred years later and magic is hidden even deeper than ever before. I'm going to put a stop to that."
Several gasps and whimpers brought Morgana's attention to the werewolves. They were looking up at the sky behind her. She frowned and followed their gaze.
The white shade was barely visible amongst the clouds and all she could see at first was movement as it came closer. After a few moments she was finally able to make out wings. Large wings that flew silently through the night sky like a ghost. It came even closer and Morgana gasped in recognition, delighted by the sight. The smile that lit up her face when the large, white dragon landed was genuine and beautiful.
"Aithusa!" Morgana exclaimed.
Aithusa leaned her head down to Morgana's height and nuzzled her. "Hello, Morgana," said her rumbling voice.
Morgana started and stepped back. "You-you can talk! And you've grown so big!"
Aithusa nodded, her eyes squinting slightly as she smiled. "It's been quite a long time since you died. Many things have happened."
"I'm sure they have." Morgana stepped closer and petted Aithusa's nose. She was well aware of the eyes watching them. A dragon, what a perfect way to get their attention. "Have you come to help me? I'm going to return magic back to the land and restore it to its rightful place."
"Magic never left the land, Morgana," said Aithusa gently. "Its power and influence waxes and wanes like the moon, but it is always there."
Morgana frowned. She stepped away from the dragon and looked into its eyes. "Magic hides from the rest of the world. Wizards live afraid of stepping into the muggle world."
"But what you call the muggle world is not void of magic, simply unaware."
"Then we will make them aware of it. Magic is power and power should not have to hide."
"Killing innocent people is not the way to make them understand your cause."
"They had no problem killing innocent people when they were magic users!" Morgana spat bitterly.
"That was fifteen hundred years ago."
"And what of the witch hunts? The inquisition?"
"Most of the innocents that died there were not magic users. And wizards did not help, in fact wizarding magic only made it worse."
Morgana's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know that?"
Aithusa looked away and was silent for a long moment. Then she turned pleading eyes back to Morgana. "Please, Morgana, stop this madness. There are peaceful ways to accomplish what you wish. Albion does not need more bloodshed."
Morgana took several steps back. The smile was gone from her face and her eyes glittered with angry tears as she spoke in a quiet voice that made everyone else within the circle shiver. "Has he converted you? You'd take His side over mine? I, who protected you, who suffered for you?"
The dragon hesitated and then sighed. "Emrys and I made our peace long ago, Morgana. He healed me and I him. I have known him as a friend far longer than I have known you, but I do remember how you protected and suffered for me. I loved you then and have always remembered you fondly. Please, don't make me choose between you."
Morgana stood perfectly still, like a dark dreadful statue. The hope that had shone in Aithusa's eyes slowly disappeared and her features fell. Not a single sound penetrated the circle.
"You've betrayed me."
Aithusa's head snapped up. "No, I-"
"Crucio!"
A normal wand would've done no damage at all to a dragon of Aithusa's size, but the Elder Wand had power beyond any ordinary wand. It remembered the Old Religion. It knew how to hurt it. Aithusa roared in pain.
The dragon's wings flew out from her body in such a rush that the wind knocked Morgana and several others back. Mordred cried out as he landed. The curse was disrupted, but Morgana regained her footing quickly. Eyes glowing with fury, she pointed her wand again.
"Lígdracan, fleoge! Arỳpt ond framátir þone féond!"
A roaring dragon made of flames flew out of her wand and towards Aithusa. The dragon, still shaken by the casting of the Unforgiveable, didn't move quickly enough and the fiery dragon caught her across the back, right between her wings. Aithusa roared and the ground shook beneath her as pain turned outwardly into anger. The conjured dragon doubled back and tore along Aithusa's flank.
Now, truly furious, Aithusa reared up and watched the smaller dragon turn around again. This time she lifted her head and opened her jaws, meeting it head-on with a stream of her own flames. The conjured dragon disintegrated.
Aithusa roared again, forcing those in front of her to duck down to avoid her angry flames. Then she took to the skies, ignoring the pain across her flank and back as well as the one in her heart until she was well above the clouds.
She wasn't certain how long she'd flown, but eventually exhaustion and pain in both body and soul took its toll. Aithusa flew down into the forest, letting the magic of the land pull her into its embrace. As she lay down amongst the trees she mingled her own with it, hiding herself from prying eyes.
Then she laid her head down and closed her eyes and grieved.
The sun had only been up for a few hours and in the London morning rush of traffic and people, no one noticed the oddly-dressed woman wearing a black hood obscuring her face as she walked up to the Thames. Nor did they notice when she pulled a large clay ball out of the depths of her robes and dropped it into the river by the corner of the Strand and Hungerford Bridge.
The water bubbled for a few moments where it hit the surface and then went still.
They also didn't notice when she suddenly vanished.
The police car sped round the corner and then screeched to a halt. There were people running down the street screaming. Both front doors opened and two detectives climbed out, gaping at the things lumbering down the London street.
Detective Sergeant Ian Chalupa had been a tad irritated at his younger partner for insisting on responding to the obviously lunatic woman's report about swamp monsters. But the only thing obvious to him right now... was that the woman was unfortunately no lunatic.
"Oi, Lance, I'm not imagining this am I?" he called uncertainly to his partner. When his partner failed to answer, he looked over.
Lance Knight was texting on his mobile. Chalupa's eyes narrowed. "Oi, what're you up to there?"
"Calling in the cavalry," Lance answered. He looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. "You might want to call this in to the station."
Chalupa blinked. "Er, right."
As he called the situation in to dispatch, he noticed Knight finish texting and go retrieve something from the trunk. After the operator finally believed that he - first of all, wasn't crazy - and, second of all, desperately needed backup, the detective sergeant climbed back out of the car, took out his taser in one hand and expanded his baton with the other.
Detective Constable Knight drew his taser and joined him. Chalupa met his eyes, nodded to him and then looked back to the monsters. He froze and looked back to his partner.
"You have a sword," he said.
Lance didn't turn his way, his eyes trained on the swamp monsters. "In case the tasers don't prove effective against those creatures." He advanced.
"That wasn't actually what I meant," Chalupa muttered. He tightened his grip on both weapons and followed his partner.
"Good morning all!" Elena greeted brightly as she walked into the dining room.
"Good morning," Narcissa greeted, with a considerably less bright smile.
Draco looked up with bleary eyes and groaned. "Begone you foul, beastly, morning creature, you," he said, waving a hand for emphasis.
Elena snickered as she grabbed the coffee pot. She didn't bother putting anything into her coffee, drinking it black and grabbing herself the sugariest pastry on the table.
Draco sipped his tea and covered up a yawn with his hand. "How can you be so awake?"
Elena shrugged. "I'm a student. Sleep and I aren't exactly the most dedicated of bedfellows." She looked around the room with a frown. "I'm surprised Doctor Kingsman isn't here yet. He's usually a fairly early riser from what I've gathered."
Draco thought about that. "Hm, I suppose he is. At least he's usually here before I am."
"Well his leg was bothering him terribly yesterday," said Narcissa with a shrug. "It's certainly possible he required some extra sleep."
Elena snorted. "Doubt it. More likely he's already been up for hours and got himself lost somewhere in that library of yours - er, Merlin's."
Just then the door opened and Archie stepped in.
"Good morning," he greeted with a slight nod. The cane he'd had yesterday was gone and the limp barely visible. He was carrying a box in a plastic bag under one arm.
"Good morning, Doctor Kingsman," Elena greeted. She turned to Draco. "Looks like a search party won't be necessary."
Archie raised an eyebrow at her. "Whatever would you need one for?"
"To squirrel you out of the depths of the library, of course."
"What in the world are you talking about?!"
Draco snickered and then hid the reaction behind his teacup. Archie rolled his eyes at the both of them and then handed the box he was holding over to Draco.
"Here, this is for you," he said and then took a seat next to Narcissa. He poured himself coffee as Draco attempted to figure out the complicated muggle packaging.
The door to the dining room opened again just as Elena finally took pity on him and handed him a knife with instructions on where to cut. Merlin staggered into the room, yawning. His hair looked like something feathered had just flown out of it and his clothes were askew.
"'Morning," he said just loudly enough to be heard by Narcissa at the far end of the table and then aimed directly for the coffeepot.
Draco grunted back a greeting at him as he was busy wrestling with the odd, unnecessary substance that lined whatever was inside the box and was making it impossible to pull the object out. A few moments more and he gave up, took out his wand and tapped the cardboard. His eyes gleamed triumphantly as it disintegrated from around the white, brittle and unecessary rubbish. Nestled within was a flat shiny black object with some sort of apple engraved on it.
"Blimey, that the new Air?" Elena asked with wide eyes.
Draco looked up at her and stared. "You will, I hope, explain what that particularly bizarre muggle euphemism means?"
She giggled. "As in the Macbook Air. It's the name of that computer."
"I see." He looked to Archie as Merlin circled around the table in order to look over Draco's shoulder at the laptop. "Uh, thank you."
Archie looked amused. "If you're going to endeavour to join the twenty-first century and learn about things like Facebook and the internet, it's much easier to do so on a larger screen. And Macs are relatively indestructible and the operating system mostly idiot-proof."
Merlin took a sip of his coffee, looking rather amazed. "That's incredibly generous of you, Archie. Especially after Dudley and Gwaine set up a computer in the study."
Archie waved him off. "Well, I can't help but feel a bit like I've somehow acquired a younger brother... and besides I had all this money saved up for a trip to Japan this summer to visit someone I knew there, which is no longer happening."
Merlin's head snapped up at that, his eyes widening. "You-you were going to visit me in Japan this summer?" He pouted. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "After this is all over I can go back and then you can come up and visit me!"
He looked very proud of his plan. Archie rolled his eyes.
"Or we could do the more sensible thing and simply go together."
"Ah, yes, or that."
Narcissa and Elena laughed. Draco, meanwhile was staring at Archie with wide eyes. If someone had asked him to describe what he was feeling in that moment, Draco wouldn't have been able to answer them. Well, shock, there was definitely some shock involved, but there was also a rather warm prickly feeling worming its way out from the centre of his body. Archie had referred to him as a little brother (though he really was a bit old to be a little brother) and Merlin hadn't contradicted him.
From the other side of the table, Narcissa noticed her son's expression and smiled fondly. Having the manor overrun by mudbloods and muggles wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to them, she supposed.
Draco jumped as a noise suddenly erupted next to his ear. It was an odd, whirly sort of noise that went on for several seconds and then stopped. Merlin dug his mobile out of the pocket of his muggle trousers.
"What is it with you and theme songs?" Archie muttered from across the table. He too had his mobile out and was tapping at it (the thing he was tapping at was called a 'touch screen', Draco reminded himself, feeling rather proud of himself at remembering).
Merlin shrugged. "I like Doctor Who."
Both Archie and Merlin stiffened at approximately the same time, their eyes widening.
"It's from Lance," said Merlin. "London's under attack."
"Bloody hell, that was quick," said Elena, her voice trembling slightly.
"Yes, it was." Merlin practically threw his coffee cup onto the table, grabbed a slice of bread and ran to the door.
"Merlin, your staff!" Archie called after him.
"Er, right." Merlin paused and looked back. "Draco you're coming with us, right? To watch and stay out of the way, I mean."
Draco stood and nodded. "I can apparate directly there. I-I'll help if I can."
"Good then. Narcissa, could you please let the Order of the Phoenix know what's going on? Either Charlie or Headmistress McGonagall or... well, it really doesn't matter who, just tell them there are-" The same whirly noise as before sounded and Merlin immediately glanced down, tapping as he talked. "-swamp monsters coming out of the Thames and heading for Trafalgar Square and – oh lovely - apparently the skeleton army's making a reappearance going up York Way."
"Skeleton army and swamp monsters at just past London morning rushhour? Must be bloody brilliant," said Archie sarcastically. He looked up at Merlin over his spectacles. "How are you travelling?"
Merlin grinned. "Oh, I'll just bully Kilgharrah into playing horse."
Then he turned and ran. The manor shook slightly as Merlin called for his dragon while he raced down the hall. Draco took a deep breath.
"How are we getting to London?" Elena asked.
Archie raised an eyebrow at her. "We?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't think you're leaving me behind, do you?"
"No, I don't suppose I have that choice. We'll floo to Merlin's house and then Draco can apparate the both of you to the square while I fly."
"Hang on, why am I side-along apparating with her?"
"Because I have a mobile with everyone's numbers in it – except apparently for Lance's - and you don't and we'll need it to know what's going on."
Draco made a face as Elena grinned at him. "Fine."
"If that's settled, we should also get our swords," Archie pointed out.
"Oh, right. Flaming hell this battle thing's complicated."
They hurried out the room, calling their good-byes to Narcissa as they left. Narcissa watched them leave with a pale, terrified face. "Good luck," she called after them.
Then she took a deep breath and called for Mimsy. The house elf knew Charlie Weasley well enough. She'd find him.
"But daddy, I want to play with the unicorns!" Isabella whined, her big green eyes filling up with crocodile tears.
Leon sighed. "I'm sorry, luv, but I have to stay in London today." He patted his daughter's head and smiled patiently down at her. "Besides, you haven't seen your grandmama in a very long time. I'm certain she misses you horribly. Don't you want to make her happy?"
Isabella seemed to think about this.
"The unicorns will be there tomorrow."
Isabella sighed and Leon had to bite back a smile at her oh-so-seriously-put-out face. "Alright, daddy." Suddenly her face brightened. "Do you think I could take grandmama to see the unicorns? And Kilgharrah's very old, I'm sure he and grandmama would get along really well!"
The dragon and the dragon mother-in-law? Oh, yes, Leon could see that going fabulously. Out loud he told her to ask Merlin. Bethany Chambers had never warmed to him, despite how long he and Trisha had been together before she died. Leon was convinced it was because he'd never married her daughter – she couldn't quite get through her head that the reason wasn't because he hadn't asked, but because her daughter didn't believe in marriage. But she loved her granddaughter and took her out once a week without fail.
So Leon straightened Isabella's sweater, making doubly certain the buttons were all done up just right and then glanced down at her nicely-polished shoes. Well, Bethany certainly couldn't complain that her granddaughter looked untidy (except for the hair, but even she'd given that up as a lost cause) and Isabella certainly looked happier than she had since her mother died just over a year ago.
He did, however, foresee a lecture about the dangers of indulging children's fancies and allowing their imaginations to get the better of them in his future.
He put Isabella into his car and drove off. They arrived at Bethany's house with minutes to spare. Grandmama had a wide smile on her face for her granddaughter as she crouched down to hug the girl. Isabella laughed and hugged her grandmother back, disappointment at not seeing her four-footed friends momentarily forgotten.
Bethany's expression was considerably cooler when she finally looked to him. "Hello, Leon."
He inclined his head. "Good morning, Bethany. I trust you've been well."
"I have, thank you for asking. And you?"
"I've been busy, but well." He paused. "I assume you're heading to the market as usual?"
"Of course. And, provided the weather holds, perhaps a park as well."
"Really, grandmama? Will we really go to the park?"
She smiled down at Isabella. "Yes, my darling, so long as it doesn't start raining, then we can go to the park."
Isabella gave a little cheer. Leon smiled. "Then you two have a good day."
"Thank you. You as well."
Leon sighed as the front door closed and he walked down the front steps to his car. Slipping into the driver's seat, he grabbed his mobile to check for messages. His eyebrows shot up when he saw he had six of them.
From Lance: Swamp monstrs on Black Prince Rd. Help needed
From Tristain: Lads sent msg more coming out of temps 2 Trafalgar Sq
From Gwaine: Already? Percy and me going to thames.
From Tristain: Problem. Skeletons marching up York Way. Gathering gang.
From Merlin: On our way.
From Gwaine: Womans seen 2 much pirates of hte carriben.
Leon's eyes widened. He immediately texted back. York Way was the closest. He would head there. Though what one person could do against an army of skeletons was debatable. But first he bolted out of his car and up the steps. He pounded on the door, not bothering with any sort of propriety. Bethany looked livid when she answered the door. He didn't care.
"Don't go anywhere," he said, hoping she caught on to his urgency and didn't demand too many answers. "Stay inside. There's danger in London, so don't go anywhere."
"Leon, what in the world are you going on about?"
"Look, if you turn on the telly, it should be there soon. I haven't got time to explain. Just please stay inside."
She looked stunned. "Yes, alright, but-"
"I'll explain what I can later."
That said and done, Leon dashed off and got back into his car. His tires screeched as he took off, making him wince, but only briefly. Then he was rushing through traffic as quickly as he dared. A few blocks down from York Way, he found cars backed up and traffic grounded to a halt. It seemed no one knew what was going on yet. Leon drove to the side and parked as well as he could, before grabbing his heavy, over-sized gym bag (he had a feeling it was designed to fit hockey gear) out of his trunk. Then he ran.
Two men stood outside a deli, watching the backed-up traffic with curiosity. The radio hadn't mentioned anything about an accident. They were dressed in dirty clothes and hard hats and looked to be in their mid-twenties, though it was difficult to tell with the grime smudged across their faces.
"Oi, look," said the slightly taller one.
The other one, who was shorter, but more muscled, looked over to where his companion was pointing. They watched as a tall stranger with wavy reddish-brown hair ran by them carrying a large black gym bag. He frowned after him.
"Do-do you feel like we shoulda be running after 'im?" he asked the other man.
The other man was also frowning. "Yeah, I do."
They looked at each other and then took off after the strange man. Suddenly, the taller man saw the stranger running ahead of them dressed not in jeans and a checkered shirt, but in armour, a bright red cloak flapping behind him.
"Sir Leon!" he called, startling his companion out of his own reverie.
The man they were following stopped and spun around. He stared at them as they caught up to him. And then his face lit up in a delighted grin.
"Sir Bors! Sir Geraint!" he exclaimed.
The two knights of Camelot grinned back.
"Bloody 'ell, it's good to see you again," said Sir Bors, before looking to his slightly taller companion.
"Yeah, I 'aven't seen you since..." Sir Geraint trailed off with a startled expression, as though suddenly realizing where he was – really was.
"My friends, though it is good to see you both again, I'm afraid I haven't much time," said Sir Leon, his face serious once more. "I'm afraid London is under attack by Morgana's forces. Will you help me save her and her citizens?"
That had both knights standing up straighter and their eyes widening.
"Of course we will."
"Good."
They froze, eyes wide in terror when they finally arrived and found themselves facing an army of walking skeletons. Around them, people ran in terror and it occurred to all three men that if they were smart, they'd be joining them. Except that not everyone was running quickly enough. And the skeletons had swords – some of them coated in blood.
Bors glanced at Leon, who was taking two swords out of his gym bag. He looked up at them. "Sorry, I've only got one spare."
Bors took it, amazed at how familiar it felt. It felt like being a knight. He looked at the approaching skeletons with battled-hardened eyes. "You know I'll fight to the death to protect my city, but there's only three of us, Leon."
"That can be remedied," said Geraint, his mobile already to his ear. "Oh Will, good. Listen, grab the lads and whatever you can use as a weapon. There's trouble coming up York Way and people are getting hurt... I won't tell you, you'll never believe me. Just get over 'ere quick as you can."
He hung up and immediately dialled another number.
"Daniel, you're doing roadwork down by the 'ospital, yeah? Oh, you're repaving? Brilliant! Listen..."
Leon and Bors left him to it and walked out to meet the skeletons.
"Blimey, she hasn't got much in the way of artistic skill, 'as she?"
Lance looked behind him. "I don't suppose that was the point," he told Dudley, who was now standing just behind him, sword drawn and watching the swamp monsters approach. "I do hope your girlfriend is somewhere in the vicinity."
"Of course I am, Sir Lancelot," said an amused voice from somewhere above him. Lance blinked and looked up. Sure enough, there was Emma looking down on him and his partner from the hood of the car they were using as cover (why they were bothering to use cover was a mystery when the monsters weren't shooting anything at them, but it somehow felt necessary to have something to crouch behind). "Wouldn't dream of missing out on the fun."
"Well, then I do hope you have a plan, because our tasers are useless and the sword didn't do much damage either."
"Lance, what the 'ell are you doing, man?!" his partner shouted at him. "They're civilians!"
Dudley snorted. "Yeah, but civilians who know how to kill those things."
That got Ian Chalupa's attention even more than the sirens he could now hear approaching. "How?"
"Wind and fire," said Emma.
"Oh is that all? Going to rain it from the sky then are you?"
The look Emma gave him seemed to say she was seriously doubting his sanity. "Don't be ridiculous, nothing that dramatic will be necessary." She looked out over the oncoming monsters and her eyes flashed gold. "There are too many for me alone. Wind's the more difficult element to control, so I'll do that. You can take care of fire."
Dudley nodded. "Right." He turned to Lance. "You still got your sword with you?"
"Of course!" said Lance, feeling a bit insulted. What sort of a knight would he be if he left his sword behind?!
Dudley nodded. He raised his sword and concentrated. The ring on his finger began to glow. "Fýr bebúgan!"
It began as a single lick, a single reflection within the steel of his sword and then it was a blaze surrounding it. Dudley grinned, his eyes reflecting the firelight and making him look just a bit mad. Lancelot held out his own sword and watched as he did the same to it.
"Just watch it," said Dudley. "The flames might be magical, but they're real as can be. Wouldn't be much good otherwise."
Lancelot nodded. "Of course." He looked to his partner. "Ian, you'd best make sure the backup know what to do. Emma will supply the wind, but they'll haven't to make their own fire."
Ian stared at him. "Uh, y-yeah, sure, make our own fire, of course. Got it."
Lancelot spared a moment to wonder whether Ian would be alright, but then he was charging at the swamp monsters alongside Dudley while Nimueh weaved the wind into a frenzy that blew leaves onto the road and around the swamp monsters.
Elena stumbled against Draco when they arrived, her hand reaching for her navel and rubbing it. Of course there were no physical signs of the magical transport, only a ghost of a feeling, but it was a very odd feeling. She felt Draco freeze and heard his sharp intake of breath. She looked up and her eyes widened.
There were about a dozen large golem-like creatures milling about the square. They looked like freshly made primitive sculptures of men – the mud still seemed to be dripping from them, though she could see no obvious puddles anywhere. Nearly half of them were at the fountain, a few inside the pool of water and several just standing there looking at it, as though confused by its presence. They seemed relatively harmless at the moment, but Elena wasn't fooled by their momentary stillness. She could see the bent lamp posts and banged-up cars - some had been thrown to the side and others looked as though they'd simply been shoved out of the way or else walked over. There was an arm sticking out of one of the cars and further away, someone lay on their front, their body twisted into a rather awkward position.
Elena swallowed and looked away. She wondered where everyone had gone. Squinting into the distance, she eyed the buildings. Sure enough, she could see huddles of people watching the monsters from behind the pillars of the National Gallery and there were likely more inside. More people were crouching behind parked cars and a few of the shops had people staring out of their display windows.
She heard sirens in the distance. Which was wonderful news, but what would the police be able to do about monsters created with magic? Somehow, she doubted guns would do them much good even if they'd had the sense to send for the Firearm Units. She turned to Draco. The young man looked pale, his eyes wide and terrified.
"Do you know how to stop these things?" she asked him.
Draco blinked and his eyes darted to her. He swallowed. "I-Emma said the last time it was elemental magic. If two elements were used to m-make them, then the other two would destroy them."
Elena raised an eyebrow and scrutinized the swamp creatures. "They came out of the Thames, so I'd guess water and earth. So, that means-"
"Fire and wind will destroy them." Draco took a deep breath. "I can't do fire. M-my wand... there's a lock on it, I can't do any spells that could cause harm."
She stared at him. Then she remembered Doctor Kingsman telling her about the wizard war. Oh. A lot of things suddenly made sense. But this was not the time for explanations.
"Can you do wind?" she asked.
Draco nodded.
Elena looked to the shops behind her. There was a cafe. Excellent. "Then I can get fire."
She ran to it and banged on the door. "Open up!" she yelled.
There were several young men in suits looking out the window. One of them ran to unlock the door. "Quick, get in," he said, pulling her inside. She let herself get pulled in, but stopped him from closing the door behind her.
"I need a lighter," she told him urgently. Then she turned to the occupants of the cafe. They were a varied bunch: a group of girls that looked barely out of school, several older men in trousers and tweed sports jackets, a few women obviously out for a day of shopping and some tourists. They packed the cafe and looked at her with scared eyes. Elena took a deep breath. She'd been the lady of a castle once, helped withstand sieges. She could do this.
"Does anybody have a lighter?" she called out. Several people frowned at her, confused by the request. "Look, those monsters are coming out of the Thames and they're crawling all over the area, yeah? We can't count on the police getting here in time to save us. My friend and I, we know how to destroy them. It takes fire and wind. My friend's a wizard; he can conjure wind, but he can't do fire at the same time. So, I need a lighter."
She stared them down, daring any of them to try and argue against magic when there were bloody swamp monsters out there tearing London apart.
"Cool," said a voice to her left and she turned to watch a shadow detach itself from behind a shelf. It was difficult to guess the young man's age due to the amount of facial piercings and the dyed black hair that hung around and over his face like a curtain. He pulled a large butane lighter out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. "I've got a lighter."
"Oi, 'ere, I've got one too," said one of the young women, who'd been huddled together in the corner. She walked to Elena and handed her a pink lighter covered in rhinestones.
Elena grinned. "Thanks!"
She reached for the butane lighter, but the man pulled it back. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Sorry, luv, but this is a keepsake. I'm not 'anding it over to anyone. You want it, yer stuck with me."
"The more the merrier!"
"Hang on!" A stout woman wearing a sort of uniform with the cafe's name on the apron hustled up to them with a pile of newspapers in her arms. "You'll be needing something to burn, I think."
Elena grabbed the papers gratefully.
"Young lady!" She turned to find one of the older men shuffling up to her with a paper bag in his hand. "Here, use this as well."
The man with the facial piercings took the newspapers from her and she took the paper bag and pulled out a bottle. Her eyes boggled when she read the label.
"Bloody hell, this-"
"-will burn quite nicely, I think."
"Er, well, yeah, definitely."
"Eh, keep your spirits, old man," one of the younger men in suits said, taking the bottle out of her hand and handing it back to the older man. He then jingled a set of car keys. "We've got cars full of petrol all lined up nicely along the street."
Elena grinned. Suddenly, they all heard a crash. She whirled around and ran out the door. Apparently, the swamp monsters had stopped being confused and had started advancing. Towards Draco. There was a creaking noise and then a second crash as one of the swamp monsters threw off the car that had been on top of it. She looked to Draco, who was pointing his wand at another car and levitating it off the ground. By the expression on his face, this was not an easy task.
"We'd better hurry," she said and ran towards him.
"Took you long enough," said Draco through gritted teeth.
She sent him an apologetic look as she and her pierced companion set up the stack of newspapers and set fire to them. They began to burn easily enough.
"Right, so how exactly are we supposed to set them on fire?" the man asked.
Elena looked around. "Find something we can use as a torch."
"How about this?" a smooth voice asked from behind them. The two of them turned to see a black man in jeans and a red shirt holding several tiki torches in his arms. "I work at the home decor shop over there. Grete from the cafe called to say what you were up to."
Elena grinned. "Well, thanks then, these are perfect."
"Yeah, thanks mate!" said the pierced man. "I'm Aaron, by the way."
"Mwamba."
"Elena and the wizard's Draco."
"Draco? Really? Cool, mate!"
"I'm so glad you approve," said Draco, voice dripping in sarcasm. "Now if you could hurry it up: levitating these muggle vehicles is much more difficult than it looks."
"These what?"
"Nevermind," said Elena grabbing one of the garden torches and sticking its wick into the fire.
The other two men did the same. The creatures were approaching rapidly and Elena felt absurdly glad the Thames had been cleaned up and thus no longer the smelly cesspool it had once been. One of the monsters by the fountain rammed its way towards the centre of the square, shattering the head of one of the lions guarding Nelson's Column as it went. The historian in Elena screamed at the destruction. The normal person inside her screamed at her to run away, because that lion was made of stone.
She took a deep breath and looked at the closest swamp monster. It was mere steps away now. She heard footsteps running towards them, but didn't look away from the creature approaching her. One of the young men from the cafe ran past them with a canister in his hands. He charged at the monster and then stopped, heaved the canister and splashed its contents all over it. The monster paused and swung at him, but the man was already running off to the side. His friend did the same to the second monster, but wasn't quite as agile. He tripped while backpedaling away.
The monster strode towards him, lifting a massive arm.
But by then, Elena and her fire crew had already charged. Mwamba grabbed the fallen man under his arms and pulled him away as Elena thrust her torch into the centre of the swamp monster's torso. The petrol exploded into flames, turning the still-advancing monster into a walking roman candle.
"Draco, wind!" she screamed behind her as she danced backwards, out of the monster's reach. She glanced to the side only long enough to see the second monster was covered in flames as well.
"Flabraflatumos!"
Elena felt the wind lift her hair with it as it blew past her at the monster. As soon as it touched the flames, the monsters began to collapse in on themselves until all that was left were two piles of foul-smelling, burned mud. She looked to Draco and grinned.
Percy snaked his way through traffic on his motorcycle, taking every shortcut he could think of while Gwaine hung onto him for dear life and continuously reminded himself that his friend was a professional. He finally stopped the bike beside a van that several familiar-looking people were unloading.
Elyan smiled at them. "Hello, Gwaine, Percy," he said, before looking back down to the large fan he was straightening out on top of what looked like a mechanic's trolley.
"Oh, good, you can help Elyan with the fans," said Gwen as she jumped down from the back.
Gwaine and Percy exchanged looks. "Why fans?"
"Merlin texted, said Nimueh says the swamp monsters can be defeated with wind and fire. Our neighbour down the block had her basement flooded last week when a pipe burst, so she had one of these things in there to dry it out. Dad had the other one. And we've got the portable generator too."
"What about fire?" Percy asked.
"What do you mean, 'what about fire'?" a new voice demanded. An older man with dark skin jumped out of the back of the van. He held out a very large propane torch. "We're mechanics!"
Gwaine grinned as he hopped off the bike. "So, where are the monsters?"
His question was answered by a loud crash followed by a scream and then gunfire coming from around the corner.
"About where you'd expect them to be. Now give me a hand with this generator."
Tristan cursed under his breath. He was not happy in the slightest. It wasn't that he'd expected a skeleton army to be easily defeated, but he had rather hoped for something that felt a bit less like beating his head against a brick wall that hit back.
The plan had been simple. He'd sent out a group e-mail to his entire motorcycle gang. Well, they called themselves a gang for laughs, but really they were a group of motorcycle enthusiasts, who got together every Sunday and road out into the countryside or around London. Tristan's true gang days were long gone. Well, mostly. He still had his contacts should the need arise and he and Isolde did the best custom jobs in the city, which meant he knew a lot of the important people in the biker world by name.
At his call, most of his gang (and a few of those extras, who owed him favours) assembled, shovels, iron bars, baseball bats and heavy chains at hand and they rode out. There were a lot of skeletons, but motorcycles were fast – very fast. He and Isolde swung their swords as they drove by, cutting a neat line through the skeletons from the side.
And then watched the skeletons put themselves back together and march on – except for the ones that turned to their left and saw them where they'd turned. So they revved their engines and went at them head-on.
He did notice there were people who'd managed to run away while they were keeping the skeletons occupied, so that was something at least. The amount of blood dripping from some of the swords they were carrying was making his stomach sick and his blood boil.
Just then, Tristan's mobile vibrated. He took it out and glanced at it, hoping it was re-enforcements. It was from Leon.
Watch out for the rdwork machine coming behind you.
Tristan blinked and frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He shook his head. There was no time. The skeletons were coming again and his gang was starting to tire. They'd already had two back out because their wounds were too severe. A third had gone with them to make sure they made it to the hospital and to deliver the old lady they'd rescued from the skeletons to A&E. Her husband hadn't been so lucky, but he and his cane were the only reason she was alive. Isolde had the cane now tucked into the back of her bike.
"Alright, mates!" he called to the others. "Look alive there! Help is on the way. Let's show these Disney knock-offs where they can stick it!"
A cheer that might've sounded a tad hysterical (if he stopped to think about it) rose up and Tristan swung his sword in the air, grinning as he once more led the charge. He glanced at Isolde beside him and met her eye through their helmets. She nodded to him and then swung her sword.
"Half with me!" she cried.
They ploughed through the skeletons to York Way and then separated as Isolde spun left and he turned right. The skeletons kept coming and he knew there was only so much longer they could keep this up. But they couldn't stop, couldn't let them get to the rest of the city.
He looked up ahead and blinked in astonishment. Then he barked out a laugh. A roadwork machine, Sir Leon had called it. Ha! A street roller was what it was and not one, but two of them were ambling their way down the street crushing skeletons as they went – the bloody things were packed too tightly into the street to properly move out of the way. And dangling from either sides of their cabs (Tristan couldn't quite see how they were holding on) were burly construction workers heaving large hammers, massive pliers and one of them was somehow managing a circular saw.
He led his group down into the next alley. They'd take a breather, wait for the rollers to pass and then catch the stragglers, who'd managed to get out of the way in time.
Draco hated admitting it, but he was tiring. He was certain they'd destroyed the dozen or so monsters that had originally been in the square, but more kept coming. He couldn't help but wonder if they somehow knew their fellows were being killed and that was why they'd suddenly started arriving. Were they here for revenge?
Fire was no longer a problem. Once the muggles hiding inside the various buildings had seen what they were doing – and more importantly, that it was working - more had joined them. There were a few hastily constructed torches out of pipes and rolled up shirts burning merrily and several people had unlocked their vehicles in order to help keep the petrol supply going.
However, he was the only one who could supply wind. And he knew that even some of the ignorant muggles had started noticing it weakening.
"Draco, how are you holding up?" Elena asked him. She'd come to his side in order to take a short break. Her hair was mussed and she had some rather impressive bruising going down the length of one arm, where she'd hit the ground after misjudging the reach of one of the monsters.
"I've definitely been better," said Draco. He was breathing heavily and could feel the sweat pooling all over his body. Every once in a while he had to wipe his brow to keep it out of his eyes. "I-I'm not sure how long I can keep this up."
He hated admitting it out loud; his face burned with humiliation. He wasn't this weak, he wasn't! Everything had been fine at first, but then it felt as though suddenly, something had clamped down on his wand, making it feel heavier and smaller, as though he was trying to feed his magic through an ever-shrinking hole. Goddamn the ministry! They hadn't told him the lock prevented long-term use of powerful magic!
He'd never hated them quite as much as he did in this moment.
That was when he heard the tell-tale 'pop' of apparation. Draco relaxed. Finally, the Order of the Phoenix could take over. He turned to call out to whoever it was that they needed to start conjuring wind, but the words died in his throat. Instead he grabbed Elena's arm and pulled her behind him as the Death Eater raised his wand at them.
"Protego!" he cast.
A spell hit his shield, sending a jolt through his wand arm. He cried out in pain. The shield wasn't going to last more than one more hit.
"Oi, leave 'im alone!" he heard Aaron yell.
He looked up in time to see the muggle running towards the Death Eater, flaming decorative torch in hand. The Death Eater looked curiously to the side and shifted his wand.
"No," Draco whispered in horror.
"Aaron, run, get out of there!" Elena screamed.
The sickly green spell hit him square in the chest and Aaron dropped like a stone to the ground. He didn't move again. The Death Eater chuckled. "This is what you get when you play with muggles, Malfoy."
Draco's eyes widened. That voice...
The Death Eater raised his wand again. Draco gripped his own and pushed Elena backwards.
"Get out of here," he told her.
"No." He heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed.
The Death Eater cast. So did Draco. His shield stood up, but just barely. When it finally collapsed, so did Draco, falling to his knees like a marionette who strings had been cut. He remembered this feeling, this hollowed-out, dizzy feeling, so much like when he'd touched the cold iron on the doors of Merlin's vault.
"Draco?" Elena asked.
He shook his head. He was done. "Get out of here."
Elena looked down at the blond. He looked exhausted, like he was only waiting for a signal to collapse. She gripped her sword tightly. The black-cloaked, masked wizard before her made her angrier than she'd ever been before – in either lifetime.
"You coward!" she screamed at him. "You've been waiting in the shadows this entire time, haven't you? Just waiting for him to tire himself out with fighting!"
The wizard scoffed. "You say that as though your opinion matters, muggle." He pointed his wand at her.
A large brown shape swooped down from the sky and grabbed at his hood with its talons. The wizard screamed as they dug into his scalp. Elena reacted and charged. She didn't stop, until her sword was buried deep into the wizard's torso. Then she stepped back and let the body slide off as she pulled it out. It came out covered in blood. Another human being's blood. She'd...
Elena dropped her sword and ran to the nearest traffic light. She leaned against it as she retched onto the sidewalk. Gentle hands pulled her hair out of her face and rubbed circles into her back. She stopped retching with a gasping sob.
"Elena, you need to get ahold of yourself, now," she heard the words and recognized the voice instantly. "You need to be strong. There's still a battle to be fought."
She wiped her mouth and turned to her supervisor. His eyes were gentle and understanding and when he held her sword out to her it had been wiped clean. She didn't dare ask with what, just took the sword and nodded.
"Right, fight now, freak out later."
Archie nodded. "Exactly." He looked to the side and grabbed her arm just as a swamp monster got within reach of them. "Merlin certainly is taking his time, isn't he? Well, I might not be terribly good at this, but I can at least do something."
They ran back to Draco's side, where several of their torch-bearers had also gathered. Aaron's body had been dragged to the side and everyone was watching Archie with wide eyes.
"Y-you were an owl," said one of the young suits as he gripped his petrol canister.
Archie arched an eyebrow at him. "So I was, but I'm not anymore. Now I believe you need wind?"
"Yes," said Elena.
"Good, it's my best element."
Elena grinned. Then she turned to her small band of helpers. "Right, let's got on with those fires!"
And they did, like a well-oiled machine. Archie raised his arm out towards the first towering inferno monster and his eyes glowed gold.
"Lyft, forþ fleoge!" he chanted.
An air current spun around his arm and then out towards the first monster, slamming through it with the force of a concentrated gale. The monster collapsed into a pile of mud and the current continued on to the next one. It, too, collapsed.
"That was actually rather impressive," said Draco from beside him. He still looked dreadful, but not like he was seconds from passing out. There was a slight accusation in his voice.
Archie snorted. "No, it wasn't. It doesn't take much to force a spell for a moment. A sorcerer's true abilities are shown in the more subtle uses of power, which tend to require control. It's the difference between driving a hammer at a stone and destroying it and clipping away at it with a chisel to create a work of art."
He took a deep breath, raised his hand again and repeated the spell. Draco watched, still feeling hollowed-out, but no longer quite as dizzy. Though he couldn't help but wonder where the aurors were. Had something happened at the ministry? Did the Order of the Phoenix refuse to believe his mother?
Draco.
Draco started and looked around him. That had sounded like Merlin's voice. "Yes?" he asked hesitantly.
Tell them to clear the square. Now!
Draco blinked. Then he looked up to the sky and his eyes widened. He ran towards Elena and her fighters.
"We have to clear the square!" he called at them. Elena turned to him with a frown. "Merlin and Kilgharrah are here, we have to get out of the square!"
Her eyes widened in comprehension. She turned to the men and women with her. "You heard him, it's about to get really hot around here, so everyone fall back!"
They looked confused, but did as she said and followed her and Draco out of the square and into the archway of one of the stone buildings. It didn't take the muggles long to realize Elena, Draco and Archie were all looking up at something approaching.
"Is that...?" one of the men breathed.
"Bloody 'ell, I think it is!" whispered another one in amazement.
It was one thing to know academically what sort of destruction a firebreathing dragon could do, but it was altogether another thing to watch as said dragon dived, opened its jaws and spewed out great blasts of flame that covered groups of the monsters at once. Their petrol/torch combination had been clever and effective on a small scale, but it was pitiful next to the instant bonfires the dragon's flames turned the monsters into. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying and Draco's eyes widened when he recognized the familiar feeling wafting over him along with the heat of the flames.
He'd known dragons were magical creatures. However, he hadn't realized their flames were also magical, that dragons were capable of creating magic, of using their own magic outwardly. Is this what Anhora, Merlin and Nimueh had been trying to tell him? What Archie had meant by different forms of magic?
The dragon twisted in the air and doubled back over the square, only this time it was a bright shining light from atop his back that drew Draco's attention. He could now see Merlin, completely dwarfed by the dragon on whose back he was riding, raising his arm and pointing the light towards the ground.
It wasn't just wind that blew through the square, it was the steady force of a hurricane that wound its way across the perimeter and then twisted its way around each of the dozen and more flaming swamp monsters.
Yes, Draco realized, as he lowered his hand from where he'd brought it up to shield his face from the dust kicked up by the wind, this wasn't simply destruction. This was power on a leash: this was art.
Kilgharrah roared as he dived again, this time following the street the monsters had been coming from. The great winds followed him.
Draco walked out from the arches he'd been hiding behind. Beside him he could feel the others doing the same, but he couldn't care less. The square looked devastated. Everything the dragon's flames had touched was scorched, though the wind seemed to have put the fires out, which only made it look more lifeless and desolate. The ground itself was smouldering. Muggle vehicles that had been painted bright, shining colours, were now blackened, their wheels melted and quite a few of the windows blown inwards. Street lights looked like twisted gnarled old trees and the piles of mud left behind by the collapsed swamp monsters were considerably smaller than what the torches and Draco's wind had managed. In fact, they were less like piles and more like puddles.
Around him he heard faint chimes sound as the shops around the square opened their doors and people began piling out. There were people slowly walking down the steps of the National Gallery as well.
"I wouldn't crowd the centre of the square too much, if I were you," Archie called out to them.
Draco turned along with many of the others with them.
"Why's that?" one of the suited men asked.
Archie shrugged. "Would you want to drink Thames water?"
The man made a face. "Er, no. Right, I suppose breathing fire would leave a person, er, dragon, a bit thirsty."
"That would be my guess, yes."
"Still, bloody hell!" someone else exclaimed. It was one of the girls, who'd been helping them. "That was a dragon! A great big, blooming dragon! I need to tweet this."
Draco frowned. She needed to what?
"I can't wait to post these pictures on facebook!" said Mwamba. "My family is never going to believe this!"
Draco stared incredulously at how preoccupied all of them suddenly were with their mobiles. He felt the irrational desire to grab his as soon as he returned to the manor and take another look at it. Was it somehow enchanted?
Beside him, Elena giggled. "You know, you're adorable when you're confused by muggle technology," she said.
Draco glared at her.
"Hey, look, it's coming back!"
Sure enough, at that moment, Kilgharrah flew into the square, hovering for a few moments, before landing in front of the water fountain.
In that same moment, a series of 'pops' sounded around them. Draco tensed. He spun around towards the nearest 'pop' and pointed his wand at it. Then relaxed.
"You're late, Potter!" he barked.
Potter blinked owlishly at him and then glared. "Couldn't handle it on your own, Malfoy?"
Draco smirked. "Actually, I think you'll find we did rather well on our own."
That was when Potter caught site of the square. He gaped rather comically.
"Draco?"
He looked to Elena and nearly burst into laughter at the sight of a bewildered, wide-eyed Arthur Weasley blinking down at the tip of the sword that rested against his windpipe. "You know these people?" she called out to him, her eyes never leaving the wizard in front of her.
Draco did snigger when he noticed Ron and Ginny Weasley as well as a wizard he didn't know looking surprised and a bit scared at the angry muggles surrounding them with their still-smouldering torches. Well, the last wizard that had apparated in had attacked Draco and killed one of their own, so the hostility was understandable.
"Well, the one you've got there is Charlie's father," he said. "I imagine this is the Order of the Phoenix to the rescue."
Elena snorted and took a step back as she lowered her sword. "Their timing needs improvement."
The other muggles followed her example and stepped back from the wizards cautiously. Draco shook his head in amusement. But then he saw Merlin approaching them. Archie was already walking out to meet him, so Draco decided to leave the Order of the Phoenix be and went to follow, Elena and several of the muggles behind him.
"Sorry we were a bit late," said Merlin. "Had a bit of a close call with a Boeing 747. I'm afraid I may have traumatized that pilot just a bit."
Draco frowned in confusion, but Elena and several of the muggles laughed. He looked behind them and noticed that more were steadily joining them, obviously curious about their mysterious dragon-riding saviour.
"Anyway," Merlin continued, "We took care of the ones crawling out of the Thames. There won't be any more and it looked like the other shore's well in hand, especially if there are wizards there now helping." He looked around. "You lot seemed to have done alright on your own though."
"We managed," said Draco with a shrug.
"Oi, don't sell yourself short, mate, you were amazing!" one of the young suited men exclaimed with a grin. Draco stared at him, wide-eyed. He was a pureblood, a former Death Eater... did he just get complimented by a muggle?
Several more apparently agreed with the man and presently he was being slapped on the back and smiled at. He felt his face heating up at the attention. "Y-you were all fairly brilliant yourselves," he said.
He met Merlin's amused eyes and scowled at him. Merlin's grinned widened and then he winked.
"Ehem, sorry, excuse me everyone!" he called out. Attention turned back to him. "I was just wondering if anyone has any information about what's going on at York Way."
"Something's going on at York Way?" someone asked.
"Oh, yeah! My friend posted about that! They're being attacked by an army of skeletons!"
"No bloody way?! Seriously?"
The mobiles came out again. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter and the others looking on with completely perplexed expressions on their faces.
"Oh! Me mum's there right now!" a girl with a long, blonde ponytail exclaimed. "She's texted, saying there's a bunch of construction workers fighting 'em off. One of them got 'urt and she's taking care of 'im and 'e's a nice young man and I should definitely meet 'im – nevermind she's got nothing important." The girl finished with an exasperated eyeroll.
"Eh, seems there's a biker gang fighting them off too," a man from the back called out.
"Ha, those construction worker got themselves a set of street rollers to flatten the boney bastards into dust!"
More comments came pouring out, some with more details than others. Draco listened in amazement. They were getting all this information about something happening in a different part of the city without even leaving the square. It was incredible.
"Er, excuse me," a petite, dark-skinned girl called out as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "I don't know if this is important, but my sister just tweeted that there's a glowing stick in the middle of Caledonian Park."
Merlin froze, his eyes widening for a moment before he grinned and then moved forward to grab the girl by her shoulders. "Tell your sister she's absolutely brilliant and has probably just saved a whole lot of lives. And then tell her to get out of there right now!"
The girl's eyes widened and she nodded. Merlin let go of her and walked away. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, before tapping her touchscreen a few times and then putting the mobile to her ear.
"Merlin?" Draco called as he rushed after the sorcerer. "What is it?"
Merlin turned. "That 'stick' is the centre of the skeleton army spell. It's probably well-guarded. Possibly by Morgana herself. I've got to go put a stop to it."
Draco nodded. "What about here?"
A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to look at Archie, who was looking at Merlin gravely. "We'll handle here, you go take care of the army. Just... do be careful."
Merlin's eyes softened. "Don't worry so much, Archimedes, I'll be fine."
Then his eyes shone gold and a whirlwind surrounded him until he was lost within its depths and then it was gone and he with it.
Merlin stared at the two incapacitated Death Eaters in bewilderment.
They'd been on him within less than a minute of his arrival. Decently powerful magic users, but too used to wizard duels and needing to watch their opponents' hand movements. They forgot to pay attention to their surroundings and so the vines that Merlin gently coaxed into being caught them by surprise when they wrapped around their torsos, immobilizing them. A simple sleeping spell later and they were out like a light.
That, however, seemed to be the extent of the protection in the park.
Merlin closed his eyes and reached his magic into the earth. Like any gathering spot, it carried the imprints of the people who'd been here, where their laughter and their tears had landed and there were a few sizzles of magic here and there. But there were no more magic users save for him in the park and he felt no spells or enchantments anywhere. Well, other than the obvious.
Merlin opened his eyes again and frowned.
The 'glowing stick' wasn't difficult to find. It was stuck into the middle of the green in front of the clock tower. Even from a distance it looked out of place and ominous. Merlin ran up to it, keep his grasp on the magic of the land. Still nothing.
Merlin raised a hand. "Forbærne."
As his magic wrapped around the staff, he felt a touch of familiar magic in the wood: the Isle of the Blessed. Which explained why Mordred had been there. It resisted burning at first, but Merlin added more power to his spell. Eventually, its head cracked and the staff burst into flames. He felt the spell it had been supporting break.
Which meant the skeleton army was gone, but Merlin couldn't help but feel uneasy. What the hell was Morgana thinking? He didn't like this one bit: it had been too easy.
Archie had been all too happy to leave the clean-up to the wizards. Though first he had quickly whispered to the group who'd been helping them to scatter and leave by the tube immediately lest they have their memories altered. Of course, the Ministry of Magic would have an incredibly difficult time trying to cover the attack up. He almost looked forward to watching them try.
Draco and Elena, it seemed, had about as much desire to stay in the square as he did and followed him quickly when he decided to finally go do what he'd been wanting to for months.
Excalibur was just as magnificent as he'd imagined it. Its power seemed to shine out even through the stone it was embedded in. And though it had been sitting outside, exposed to the London elements, there was not a speck of rust to be seen anywhere. He touched the pommel gently and ran his fingers down it, along the hilt and then around the scant inches of the blade that could be seen jutting out of the stone. It was beautiful.
"Are you going to try and pull it out?" Elena asked in a whisper.
He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not Arthur."
Someone behind them cleared their throat. "Excuse me," said a deep, masculine voice.
Archie twisted slightly to look behind him. Elena and Draco had turned to face the man directly. He was a fairly tall man with broad shoulders and a winning smile. Archie would've guessed him for a politician if the microphone in his hand and the camerawoman standing behind him didn't already advertise his profession.
"Sorry, I was just wondering if you'd be willing to answer a few questions for me."
"About Trafalgar Square?" Elena asked, confused. Archie frowned. He hadn't thought they'd been followed. Or that there had been any reporters there before they left.
"No, about the sword."
He could practically hear the smug smile in Elena's voice when she answered. "Oh, then you'll be wanting to talk to Doctor Kingsman over there. He's a senior lecturer at Oxford in the Medieval Studies Department. The Arthurian legends are his speciality."
It was rather comical how predictably the reporter's eyes lit up in surprised excitement. He immediately stepped closer to Archie.
"Professor Kingsman-"
"Doctor. I am a member of the department, not its head."
"My apologies, Doctor. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about the sword?"
"Excalibur." Archie looked at the man and smirked. "If you're going to be writing a story about it, you really shouldn't shy away from saying its name." He pointed to where the outline of a letter could just barely be seen at the point where the sword met the stone. "This is definitely Excalibur."
"Then you believe the legends are true?"
"Oh, not all of them, obviously. The legends have been passed down from generation to generation through a long history of verbal storytelling both by travelling bards and by village elders and then eventually written down. I imagine the original legends looked quite different from what we know today. However, having said that, considering there has just been an army of swamp monsters and an army of skeletons terrorizing London – not to mention the dragon and the sorcerer that arrived to help – I don't believe it is that much of a leap of faith to think this part of the legends, at least, is true."
The reporter nodded. "There have been people gathering here daily to catch a glimpse of the sword, to attempt to pull it out or even just to touch it. I've spoken to quite a few of them and they all have different things to say about the sword. But, what does it mean to you, Doctor?"
"Hmm..." Archie looked back to Excalibur and ran his hand along the hilt again. "Oh, it means a great many things to me, childhood dreams and stories among them. But I think what you're really asking is what do I think it means for England, for Albion."
He paused, considering his reply. The reporter waited patiently.
"It's a harbinger of sorrow and destruction." He glanced to the side, smirking in amusement at the shocked look on the reporter's face. "Come now, surely you know the legends. They say Arthur will rise and take up his sword during Albion's Darkest Hour. And here is Arthur's sword waiting for him to come and claim it. Logically, that means that we are about to face our darkest hour."
A hush had settled around them and Archie looked up, suddenly realizing he was the centre of attention. He blinked at the startled, horrified, grim faces. He remembered Gwen and Lance mentioning there was a group of dedicated people watching the sword. Believers in the legend. He smiled at them and then turned back to the reporter and his camera.
"However, whilst this sword's presence does act as a warning, it is more than that. Excalibur is, first and foremost, a symbol of hope. It tells us that no matter how difficult the times ahead will be, how dark the days will become, Arthur Pendragon will rise once more to defeat Albion's enemies. The Once and Future King will take up his sword and brandish it as a beacon of hope to shine through the darkness."