VOLDEMORT'S LAST SPELL, by Louis IX
Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.
Chapter 5 – Once Upon a Time...
posted April 12th, 2006
For the umpteenth time, Harry crumbled the parchment and sent it to a wastebasket – he would later magic the trash there into new working material – and took another one out. He had several unresolved issues which were wearing on him.
Of course, there was the job of Uther's Royal Advisor and Archmage, but he had his personal quests too. He wanted to catch Arimathea one day or another, but he had long since reflected that a group of well-trained people could do almost as well as he did. Better, even, since they could cover more land.
All he had to do was to prepare the men physically, spiritually, and magically. And he had an almost ready way to acquire this kind of men: an order of chivalry. His quill on the parchment, he started writing doodles again, thinking about shapes for the knighthood's meeting table.
So far, he hadn't found anything as perfect as a circle: contrarily to rectangular tables, people sitting at a round table were all equal.
His liege barged in suddenly, irrupted in his study. "Please, old friend." Uther whined – a sound Harry despised, especially coming from supposedly great men like the king. "I want her. I need her."
Harry rolled his eyes. Uther had been ranting on Lady Ygerna – wife of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, and notably neutral in the ongoing war – for weeks. In that time, the whole kingdom had seemed to slow down while the king lamented on a woman he couldn't have. Harry had other priorities: creating the knighthood, protecting the Elven forests, and bringing a durable peace onto the realm… but the king hadn't listened a word from his speeches.
The worst was that Uther knew Harry was able to do magic. In almost all battles he had been in, Harry had made discreet use of it to ensure their victory against overwhelming foes. And the king wanted his mage to help by using that magic.
To be honest, Ygerna really was a magnificent woman, and Harry had no doubt that she was a Veel. By now, Uther was completely entranced, and even magic wasn't able to keep his thoughts away from her for more than an hour. What was worse was that Gorlois knew about it. The Duke had returned to Cornwall and was keeping to his castle.
"Uther, Uther, Uther." Harry called to the pacing king. "If you continue like that, you'll dig a hole in my carpet."
"But I love her!" the king wailed.
Harry winced at the plaintive tone, and thought that it would be best for the king to be safely tucked in his bed. Standing, he approached his potion cupboard and addressed him. "Come here, Uther."
The king nodded absently, and took the potion Harry gave him.
"Go to your bedroom and drink this. It will help you sleep tonight. And be patient. All things happen to he who wait."
The king gone, Harry continued to work on his project of knighthood, before he blew the candles out and went to bed.
Unbeknownst to him, a couple of hours after he left, several men approached his study.
"Patient! Patient, the coward says! I – am – not – patient!" a rough voice muttered angrily. "And I won't sleep alone, far from my one true love."
"My king!" another voice whispered urgently. "You don't want to grab the mage's attention right now!"
Uther seemed to regain a proper countenance and, looking left and right, he motioned his men forward.
Later, Harry would lament about being organized in his study of magic, about trusting Uther, about sleeping far from his study… and about not warding said study.
The next day, Harry awoke quite late, and was surprised not to hear Uther's wails of loneliness resounding through the castle. He went to the breakfast table and was starting to demolish a sturdy meal when one of the castle boys hurried to his side.
"Ma… master Ma… Mage… your… your stu… study."
Harry turned towards the young boy. "What is it, Pug?" he asked gently, conveying comforting feelings at the same time.
His apprentice straightened up and continued. "The door to your study has been found open this morning, sir." The boy said, surprised at his newfound confidence. "And it appears that some cupboards have been opened as well. We didn't dare touch- eeek!"
The boy immediately scurried away as Harry jumped to his feet. The Mage rushed through the castle, surprising servants and nobles alike. He skidded to a stop at his destroyed study door and, entering cautiously, he looked around. Few bottles were missing, but, when he recognized which ones were, understanding dawned on him and he slumped forward, his fists hitting the table so hard that the wood cracked. Harry closed his eyes, trying to reign in his anger. When they opened, it was obvious that he hadn't succeeded, as they were burning with rage. He stood up and, arms outstretched, let out a scream of anger.
"UUUUTHEEEER!"
A hundred leagues away, on his way to Cornwall, Uther Pendragon stopped his horse, his instincts warning him and making him looking back fearfully. His faithful knights stopped as well, looking around in search of what had disturbed their leader.
"What is it, my king?" one of them asked.
The king merely shook his head and feverishly spurred his horse forward again, and the men followed.
That evening, they reached Tintagel, the castle of Duke Gorlois, and dismounted. They then uncorked the potions they had nicked from Harry's lab and downed them. One of the knights became strong as an ox while another disappeared from view, and others had other strange abilities. Using their new strengths, they brought down the few guards at the door without raising alarm, and finally reached the Duke's antechamber – Uther knew most of the castle's layout from an earlier visit, and he had imparted that knowledge to his men. Once again, they succeeded in subduing him before he could raise the alarm. Uther smiled at his rival wickedly and snatched one of his hairs which he dropped into one of Harry's experimental potions. Downing it, his features morphed into Gorlois', and his knights dragged a shocked Duke into a side room before stabbing him in the heart and chucking him through the open window into the moat below.
It was just in time, though, because a detachment of Gorlois' guards irrupted in the room. "Are you alright, my Lord?" their sergeant asked.
"Why?" Uther answered curtly, not wanting to waste any moment of his triumph in dallying with petty guards.
"We found the portcullis guards killed! Intruders could roam the castle, and…"
"Well, I'm fine." A pause. "What are you waiting for? Post some guards at the entrance of this room if you need to, and search the castle." he finished, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
Gorlois' men bowed and exited the room, not without a look to the duke's strange attire.
An attire which quickly fell to the floor as Uther entered the other side room – the bedroom which Gorlois shared with his wife.
An hour later…
Harry finally arrived in view of Tintagel. He had used his magic to increase his mount's speed to a viable maximum, but, despite doubling said speed, it hadn't been enough to reach Cornwall before Uther, and Harry had a sense of impeding disaster. He had never had this sense of urgency before, but he supposed that living among the same humans for too long could do that to his millennia-borne patience. As he dismounted and walked towards the door, he absently thought that he should develop a way of magically transporting himself over great distances. The guards of Tintagel tried to stop him, but he was on a mission and immobilized them with a wave of his hand, before heading directly to the Duke's bedroom. In there, after locking the door behind him, he approached the bed and ripped the heavy curtains open. And he found Uther and Ygerna, both of them naked and asleep, with no doubt as to their earlier activities.
"Uther Pendragon!" he yelled, waking the two of them.
However, whatever he wanted to say afterwards was muted when the Duchess shrieked in outrage. "You are not Gorlois!" she exclaimed as she was extracting herself from his embrace and covering herself with a sheet. Then, she slapped him, hard, and turned towards Harry, waving her finger accusingly. "Mage! I consider it your fault since only you could have used your unnatural ways to put… him… in my bed."
Harry was gobsmacked, but Uther prevented him from making an impression of a goldfish for too long. Well… sort of.
"Ygerna, I love you." he said, kneeling in front of the quickly recoiling woman. "I want to marry you. I want you to bear my children." He then turned to Harry. "By my right as king, I recognize any child she might have as mine." he finished stubbornly, and Harry sighed. The king's inflexibility was a good thing in the affairs of the state, but it was nor the time nor the place to be so.
"Marry me?" she exclaimed, turning to him in anger. "Why… How… I…" She then gasped, the reality of the situation dawning on her. Harry turned to him as well.
"How can you marry her?" Harry asked. "She's married already!"
Uther raised his chin in defiance. "Since Gorlois is dead, she can marry me, now."
"Gorlois is… dead?" she asked in disbelief.
Uther nodded and looked at her adoringly, and Harry began to feel really angry at his king's wiliness. An inarticulate growl started in his throat, and a cold wind irrupted in the bedroom, making the few remaining curtains flowing menacingly.
"Uther!" he exclaimed. His eyes flashed dangerously, and the addressed king began to realize his error. "You will now leave Lady Ygerna and Tintagel, and you will return to your castle on your own. Do not try to find her again. And don't seek me again, for I leave your side."
"What do you mean?" a shocked Uther asked.
Harry turned to Ygerna. "From now on, I will put myself in Lady Ygerna's service. If she will have me."
The woman looked at him shrewdly. After several seconds of thinking, she acquiesced. "I might have a use in your services, mage. I accept."
"But… How will… I…" Uther stuttered. "What will I do without you?"
"You will take your responsibilities, and wage your wars alone. And, from now on," he added, his eyes glinting, "you are not welcome to Cornwall anymore."
Harry glared at Uther, but his mind was elsewhere. The Elven Seers of England had prophesied the end of the current humans' war at the hands of a Pendragon. And Uther was the last of his line. That meant that he was going to succeed against the Saxons, right? All of a sudden, as he was glaring at the poor excuse for a king, Harry was not so sure.
The king gulped and, noticing that Ygerna was glaring at him equally fiercely, he turned heel, gathered his men, and fled Tintagel.
The crisis passed, Ygerna dropped to her bed and began to cry.
"My Lady…" Harry started.
"I'm not your lady!" she exclaimed angrily, tears still flowing. "I won't forget your actions, nor will I forgive you. I should demand your death for your crime!" she yelled, before breaking down. "What will I do with the child?"
"What do you mean, Lady Ygerna? Surely you aren't-"
She waved her arm, interrupting him. "Gorlois and I were… we were…" she swallowed, gathered her dignity, and stared at him. "We were trying to have an heir. This was the best night for me. I am sure that a child will be born from this… unholy tryst. And there is no way for me to take care of it."
Harry nodded, his head low in guilt at his carelessness. "Do you want me to… take care of the… problem?"
She shook her head vehemently, though. "Even if I don't want the child, I don't want to kill it either. I won't be one to call for the angel makers."
He acquiesced, and thought hard about the problem. A few seconds later, he looked up. "I will, Lady Ygerna. I will take the child."
The woman looked at him sharply. "Will you, mage? Will you take care of a child? What experience do you have in that regard?"
Harry smiled. "I could surprise you with my experience, my Lady, but it isn't what I was considering. You'd be right on one point, though: my life style isn't adapted to the care of young children. I swear to you, however, that I will find a worthy house for the child to live in, and I will be on his side for however long he might live afterwards."
A pause ensued, and Ygerna eventually nodded. "Alright, then. And, in the meantime, I want to learn your art, mage." she finished, smirking.
"Learn my art?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Yes, I do." she answered, her jaw set.
Harry looked at her but he could see that she was resolute. After seeing with his magic that she wouldn't do evil with the knowledge he could impart her, he accepted.
The two of them spent several years together, and Ygerna learned to see the beauty of the nature around her. They discovered that she could harness only a bit of its power, but it was still more than what humans could – which in turn confirmed Harry's initial idea about her lineage. However, she wasn't magical enough to actually do something with it, and Harry started another research pathway, this time in magical foci. It took him a whole year, but he succeeded in creating a staff containing some of his essence and the power of several magical beings. The staff proved itself useful several times, providing Harry with an additional reserve of magic.
However, the staff wasn't attuned with Ygerna, and she preferred something less cumbersome. He simplified the process and came up with the first magical wand of history. Now able to focus her magic properly, she learnt even faster. She even assisted Harry in making a sword out of mithril when he asked for her assistance. The sword was strong enough to slice through steel, and, therefore, they called it ex calibur – cut-steel.
Later, Lady Ygerna would find herself a distinct affinity with water and would build herself a house in the depth of a clear lake, to spend most of the rest of her long life in contemplation. The rest of the time, she would meet her daughters Elaine, Morgause, and Morgan le Fay. When asked about her unusual residence, she agreed to teach them some of the arts given to her by Harry, all the while unaware that their intentions could be less pure than her own.
Uther Pendragon, high king of Britain, was dead. His funeral brought many of the noblemen of the country, and several from the neighbouring states, all ready to jump on the now vacant throne. During the funeral, though, a thunderstorm broke through, and lightning was witnessed striking the cathedral's courtyard. When the nobles investigated, they found that an anvil had appeared there, resting upon a stone and with a sword embedded into both. On the anvil, there were a few words: "Whosoever pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise born King of all England."
Many a noble tried to remove the sword, but none prevailed, and, following the omen, Britain found itself devoid of a king. The local nobles ruled their fiefdoms, and a council was established to manage the affairs of the state. Needless to say, it wasn't very efficient, as each of the lords tried to get advantages over the others.
In one of the smallest counties, a knight named Ector was quite far from these political affairs. He knew about them, of course, but his highest ambition was for his young son Kay, currently a squire to one of his fellow knights, to gain enough experience and glory to be knighted himself. Sir Ector had another charge, but the young Arthur wasn't his own son, and, although he treated him fine, he wasn't pushing his career forward like he did for Kay.
A couple of years after Uther's death, things hadn't moved much in Sir Ector's castle. One after the other, the other children living in the castle – most of them children of castle workers – had attained the age of 14 and had to find a real job. The boys either left to try to find a situation by themselves, or they had the luck of catching the eye of a trade master and being apprenticed to them. The girls had a different fate, either being employed for the castle maintenance or finding a husband. Arthur was nearing that fateful age, but he had no real prospect in that regard.
Most of the time, Arthur was dreaming. He was dreaming about being a squire, like his guardian's son. He was dreaming about battles, and about legendary figures. He knew that he wasn't Ector's son, and, sometimes, he daydreamed about rich and long-lost relatives taking him away from Sir Ector's castle.
One particular day, Kay rode back from London and requested a private audience with his father. A rumour started to float around, and it quickly evolved into an uproar. Apparently, the council of nobles had finally reached a decision to get rid of their inefficient ruling system, and they had organized a tournament, the winner of which would be declared king. The hubbub was mainly due to the fact that Kay had been knighted a few weeks earlier, and had registered to participate to the tournament.
And, since Kay didn't have a squire yet, Arthur was promptly appointed to his side.
As was the custom, the tournament's main activity was jousting. Its rules stated that, if both knights were down, they had to continue the fight with their swords, which they had to have from the start. Arthur was new to being a squire, and, overwhelmed by the excitement of the tournament and his hands already full with Kay's armour and other equipment, he forgot Kay's sword in the inn room they were staying at. He was quickly sent to search for it, but got lost in the large city and eventually ended up in an empty courtyard… where a sword was stuck in an anvil.
Seeing that no one was around, and not knowing the direction to the inn, he pondered his options. It could be considered a theft, but if Kay lost, he would lose his honour. Besides, the sword was offered to any and all who could take it, right? And a sword was like any other sword, wasn't it? His mind set up, Arthur decided to take what was offered to him and went to the sword. Surprisingly, it came off with no effort at all. Not having time for hanging around, he ran back to the tournament and the tent in which Sir Kay was preparing himself, assisted by Sir Ector.
Sir Kay immediately recognized that it wasn't his sword. After scolding his squire, he took a closer look and his eyes widened. Ever since he had started his own knighthood, he had learnt about the sword in the stone and had visited the isolated courtyard a couple of times, trying to get the sword.
"Look, father!" he exclaimed. "Look! I got the sword from the stone!"
The old lord knew about the sword, of course. He looked at it closely and recognized that it was either the genuine article or a perfect copy. His son was practically jumping in joy at winning the sought-after throne without actually fighting, but Ector grabbed his shoulder.
"Son," he spoke, his wisdom shining through, "did you pull the sword from the stone? Did you do it?"
Kay seemed ready to boast, to lie about it, but one look at his father's serious eyes prevented him to. 'A true knight shall not lie.' he thought, remembering one of his father's early teachings. Besides, Kay had been with his father the whole time, and there was no way he could have taken the sword earlier and kept it silent until now. Reluctantly, he turned his head towards Arthur, who hadn't left, eyes wide at the display. When Sir Ector followed his gaze and noticed the lad, he started.
"Arthur? Did you really pull that sword off a stone?" he asked. "It wasn't just lying around?"
"I did, sir. There was an anvil as well, and… there was something written on it, but it was almost unreadable – and I had to come back for…"
Sir Ector knew that Arthur wasn't one to lie, especially when he was so serious. Suddenly, several pieces clicked into place. He dropped to his knees in front of the startled boy and looked at him as though he was seeing him for the first time. "Of course. The mage said something about Destiny."
"What do you mean?" the frightened teenager asked, his eyes darting between the two men.
"You know you were given to me when you were a wee boy, don't you?"
"Yes, Sir Ector."
"Well, the man delivering you was the mage."
"A mage?"
"No. The mage. Myrddin, the advisor of our former king Uther." He frowned. "Now that I think of it, it is a wonder that the mage left the king's side, only to deliver you." He shook himself. "But that's in the past. Now…"
Arthur and Kay gasped when Sir Ector extended his right arm forward, palm down – a sign of fealty inherited from the past, and still used centuries after. "On my life and soul, I swear my fealty unto you, my king." The old knight said solemnly.
"What?" the two young men asked.
"Kay, I advise you to do the same, as Arthur here is the designated king of England, now."
The young knight frowned, thinking hard of how to address his former squire. After a few seconds, his mind was set and he pledged his loyalty as well. As true knights, both of them would stay at the king's side until the end.
"Great!" Sir Ector said, standing up before heading towards the tent's entrance.
"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.
"I must tell everyone about the good news!"
"No!" Arthur exclaimed fearfully.
Ector stopped. "No? What do you mean?"
Arthur's eyes darted around the room. Sure, he had dreamed about fantastic things and the like, but these didn't include him being propelled high king of his country. He didn't know anything of the duties of a king. "How… I… They wouldn't believe you!" he exclaimed, grasping at straws.
It seemed effective, though, because Ector actually thought about it. Then, a rare glint of cunning appeared in the old knight's eyes. "You and Kay go back to the anvil and put the sword back in. I will bring noblemen to testify." His eyes hardened. "Be sure that you can remove it again, or my reputation will suffer greatly."
Arthur nodded absently, and Kay wrapped the sword in a cloth before leading him towards the famed courtyard. While Ector was trying his best to bring the nobles to the same place, Arthur and Kay repeated the process: after putting the sword back in, Kay tried to remove it unsuccessfully and Arthur did it effortlessly. They put it back in and waited. Soon, the lords arrived, followed by the local population curious about the unexpected event. Needless to say, the nobles scoffed at seeing the lad near the sword.
When Arthur took the sword, though, their laughs stopped short. Many of them argued that it was a fluke and demanded the right to try again, themselves – they were sure that the enchantments were broken. None prevailed and Arthur succeeded in taking the sword again.
"I won't recognize that peasant as my king!" several of them exclaimed afterwards, while others appeared doubtful.
Suddenly, an icy wind blew through the courtyard, bringing frost to the hair of the nobles. Curiously, Arthur and his two knights – Ector and Kay – weren't affected by the wind.
A loud voice then echoed in the yard. "I WILL!"
And, under the nobles' surprised eyes, a tall figure appeared between them and Arthur. A figure most of them recognized at once, even if it had been several years since they had last seen it.
"The mage! Myrddin!" were the cries of the population, while the nobles were struck speechless.
"As shown by the Lord's will," Harry started, using words that the people around would understand – it was of no use to tell them that he had put the sword there – "I recognize Arthur as my king and as high king of all England." In the shocked silence, he continued. "And, so as to prove that he is indeed worthy by blood, I hereby reveal his name." With a swirl of his cloak, he turned to the equally shocked and newly-appointed king. "I welcome you, Arthur Pendragon, son of King Uther and Lady Ygerna, and grandson of Emperor Constantine."
Needless to say, the uproar at this declaration was one to be remembered.
Harry spent many years at Arthur's side. The lad was young and inexperienced in state affairs, but, now that his birthright had been confirmed, he was willing to learn quickly. Harry helped him in battles, and helped him in the affairs of the state. He helped him erect a castle in a place where the king came a lot to rest – hence the name: Camelot.
Harry also pushed his own agenda forward, and made Arthur create an order of knighthood totally devoted to him. Since these knights were the ones closest to the king and the spearhead of his armies, they had to be the strongest men, with the purest intentions. The design for these knights' meeting room was finally made, including the large and round table Harry had already envisioned.
The mage included a testing process in the seats, too, making any unworthy candidate being teleported somewhere else in shame – people thought that they died, especially as the ashamed knights never returned. Ultimately, the knighthood would include heroic characters like Gawain, Perceval, Tristan, and a quite young Lancelot – the man having been found as an infant and then adopted by the Lady of the Lake – and, later, Lancelot's son Galahad.
Ultimately, the Saxons were defeated by Arthur's armies – sometimes with their mere strength, some other times with a bit of cunning added in (but no treachery), and a couple times with the help of subtle bits of magic. Like when, during a thunderstorm, enemy knights raised their swords while charging.
Given the circumstances, even a small kid (with the help of a "grounding" in the physics of electricity) could predict one of the possible outcome. Harry's job was merely to skew the odds of that particular outcome.
And lightning struck each of those swords, cooking the armoured men and horses underneath, illuminated the scenery, and deafening everyone. When the fighters recovered sight and hearing, the enemy was fleeing, their morale annihilated.
The lightning trick was so effective that Harry even used it when "his" knights were battling single opponents, provided they were at risk to lose their life due to treachery. And it happened a couple of times as well.
It was only after these numerous battles that Harry was able to actually use the knighthood for his own goals. By now, the knights were hardened by numerous battles, and Harry made sure that they would be able to deal with anything thrown their way – be it werewolves, vampires, or any other unnatural creature. Then he half-created the legend of the Holy Grail and sent the knights in search of the famous cup and its holder.
Using his magic, Harry was able to see what the knights saw, and, when Galahad was the one to actually reach the Grail, he teleported himself right next to him. Teleporting wasn't instantaneous, though, and he arrived only to see a dead Galahad curled on the floor and holding his stomach, an empty cup thrown on the floor next to him. And, behind him, a smirking person Harry knew very well.
"Joseph." he said angrily.
"Myrddin." the other nodded. "Or is it Jesus? Or…" he frowned, and Harry felt light touches in his mind. "What is your name?"
The touches intensified, and Harry recognized his own memories flashing by. He closed his own eyes, trying to push the mind invader back. The vampire being quite strong in mind-reading, Harry didn't succeed in pushing his attack away, and more memories flashed by. He opened his eyes again and noticed that his archenemy had closed his eyes, frowning in concentration. Harry could still move, though, and he jumped towards the vampire and, in a fluid motion, pushed the pointy end of his staff through the vampire's heart.
Joseph opened his eyes wide, his concentration broken. He looked at Harry, then at the staff, then back at Harry with a smirk. "You know, you can't kill me like that. I'm not like my children. Or those pathetic whelps you sent towards me." he finished, motioning towards the dead paladin.
"Your dark age is coming to an end, Joseph."
"You wish. Even if you got me, I have followers all around the world. Who do you think pushed the Saxons, Goths, and other Vikings onto Europe? And I still haven't got your name." Joseph said, his eyes widening as he remembered his mental plunge into Harry's memories. "How… Just how old are you?"
Harry thought about it, but he could only answer truthfully. "I don't know."
"You're immortal." It wasn't a question.
"So it seems."
"I am too, now." Joseph said with a smirk, while trying to remove Harry's staff from his chest.
"I disagree. You know, I learnt many things that could be done with a staff."
"What kind of things?" Joseph asked arrogantly.
In answer, Harry focused his magic onto the staff, and magical energy erupted from its pointy end. Joseph screamed as he was burned from the inside out, by a power greater than the sun rays that the young vampires feared. Strangely, something began to ooze off of him, unconcerned by the magical flames. Harry summoned the empty cup and positioned it under the liquid, recovering most of it. When the last drop fell, Joseph emitted a last shriek which was interrupted as his whole body turned to ash and fell to the ground. Harry moved his hands and a gust of wind picked up, blowing the ash off the room and into the night sky.
Harry then put a stopper on the cup and pocketed it, before kneeling next to the fallen knight. "I'm sorry, Galahad. You were a fine young man, and you deserved a better life than the one I gave you."
Harry cried for the lives lost to his cause, and for the numerous lives lost due to humans' treachery. And, after burying the body and hiding the cup, he returned to Camelot. Once there, he found the king conspicuously absent and learnt that there had been battles going on while he was focusing on the quest for the Grail. Harry left and reached Arthur at Camlann, only to witness the last blow of the treacherous Sir Mordred onto the king, his own father.
Later…
Having trained Lady Ygerna in his art, Harry didn't see any problem in raising a few worthy young men and women into the fine art of magic. At that time, several were eligible, having a speckle of Veel blood in their veins – the origin of which being somewhat hard to ascertain since it was stronger or weaker following the marriages. Harry taught them how to make wands and how to use them to cast spells. Since it was easier for them to concentrate with a fixed mind set, he taught them spells using key words. It wasn't these words which made the spell successful, though, but the will shown in speaking it. Finally, he also taught them about how to brew potions.
One of his students was a wood sculptor, who belonged to a family of wood sculptors dating almost a millennium ago. He took to the art of wand-making very well, and was quickly promoted official wand-maker of the magical population. His name was Oliver Ollivander.
Years and decades evolved into centuries, and Harry continued to roam the world. Trying to detach himself from the humans, he kept to the forests more and more, only able to play his lyre peacefully there. Incidentally, the people who knew about him nicknamed him "the wild" because of this. It was during one of these peaceful interludes that he met a beautiful woman named Nimue. She had learnt magic from Harry's students before, and she had been redirected to him when, impressed by the true story of the Lady of the Lake, she wanted to learn more. Not sensing any bad intention and perceiving a strong magic in the woman as well as a will to learn, Harry complied, and the two of them spent a dozen years together. People of opposite sex living together in nature for so long were deemed to have some kind of intimate relationship, and Harry felt that his feelings of love were returned in kind.
It was a hard slap in the face, then, when, having extracted all knowledge from him, the woman used it against him. Stealing his staff while he was sleeping, she used her powers and her knowledge, as well as the staff's, to imprison him in a sphere of indestructible alabaster. She then laughed at his powerlessness and, using the staff, buried his prison into the depth of the river bank on which they had been resting.
Harry tried to escape his prison by teleporting out of it, but Nimue had used every trick she knew to contain him inside, and that meant every trick he knew as well. He tried to break his prison using magic, but each and every spell was reflected back towards him, and he had a bad time trying to dodge them. He tried using his magical song, but the matter was also shielded against that kind of attack. Seeing that magical attacks weren't successful, he started to use the shape-shifting abilities he had expanded since discovering about Animagus abilities. He tried to outgrow the prison, but it failed, only earning him aching muscles and bones. He then tried to attack the mineral with his hands, and then with claws he grew, but it didn't work either. After a long while, the air around him started to lack oxygen, and, after a few last attempts at breaking the sphere with his claws, he fell into unconsciousness.
Harry would stay that way for a long time. A very long time.
To be continued in next chapter: Inheritance and Awakening...
Some pious figures and heroes,
Some abnormal beasts abound,
Merlin wins but get new foes.
He now sleeps, beaten and bound.
Author's Notes: In this chapter are a few references to the type of crossover I intended. I mean… there are some de facto crossovers creeping up, like Civilization and the stories on King Arthur. I just linked that particular myth and Harry's story, but that wasn't the crossover I meant. It will be a crossover of fantasy worlds, not historical aspects. Feel free to have a guess at it. Free cookie if you find before the truth is out (a reviewer had an interesting idea, but he didn't seem interested in finding out).
On a side note, I wish to add that most of the magical creatures already exist in that story's timeline: dragons, in particular, are descendants of some reptiles having bitten Harry ages ago. Also to note is Harry's power scale: given his age, he is quite powerful and knowledgeable, but he's more a Jack-of-all-trades – he never had the incentive to really specialize in any field of magic. With the proper motivation, Nimue was able to outwit him – and she had the staff's power on her side. It is to note that, even though he taught her all he knew, his longevity isn't something that can be learnt.