Disclaimer: Do you see a sequel to Merlin with the return of Arthur? Do you see a badass sequel to Harry Potter in which he has reasonably named children and is an epic Auror? No? That's the answer as to whether I own Harry Potter or Merlin.

Chapter 4: Battlegrounds

Harry was soon out of the infirmary, free to return to his dorm. He didn't head straight there, however, deciding to take the long route, using the peace and quiet to reflect on the revelations of the past day. Well, the past day and his dreams, of course. He shook his head. This could have only happened to him.

So, what did he know? First off, someone was out to kill him. Whoop-de-doo. That was nothing new. Even when he had been known as Merlin - perhaps especially as Merlin - he had had an onslaught of those who sought to end his life. And then lead into point two fairly nicely: he was Merlin. Merlin Emrys, Merlin Ambrosius, Myrddin, 'Young Warlock', whatever you wanted to call him, he was Merlin. Now, that was not as impressive as it sounded. He had his memories, his experiences of his former life, yet he was nothing more than a powerful wizard. Merlin, he didn't even know that many modern spells. He frowned. He'd have to come up with something else to use as an exclamatory. Come to think of it, why did modern wizards seem to worship him? He'd have to look into that.

What else… ah, yes. There would be others. Friend, and foe. He was pretty sure Morgana was Daphne, but he couldn't place any others. He knew there would be Arthur, but he couldn't quite see him in anyone. Ron, perhaps? No… didn't seem quite right.

Then there was the state of the school. Harry mentally shrugged. Didn't matter to him - at least some people misguidedly supported him, unlike second year, even if they still believed him a cheat. Ah, well. He would deal with it.

And Daphne… perhaps some of Morgana was seeping through. But no, he feared her strongest memories of him would be of his betrayal, and her hatred. She would not be so… pleasant, if she knew who she was, who he was. He shook his head. No, he needed to separate old and new, till they themselves merged. For all he knew, she may never return. The thought was bittersweet.

So, what was he to do? He needed to research, first of all. Research reincarnation, and find out the damn prophecy. He should probably look up the 'history' of Camelot, too, to see what tales had been spun to deify him so. And perhaps some spells… yes, he should hide his newfound knowledge. If Voldemort were to learn the ways of the Old Religion… he shuddered. Not good.

He would compete, he knew. And not just a token attempt. His honour, his pride would accept nothing less. Besides, it might be nice for once, to earn renown for his own hard work.

And Daphne… he would have to be careful. She was so alike to Morgana, both before and after the betrayal… yes, careful was the right word. In all honesty, it would probably be smart to leave her alone, ignore her and hope it went away. But if what she said was accurate, she was his only ally… He shook his head. He wasn't even fooling himself. It was her. And he couldn't help but be drawn in, even if she stayed as Daphne, and not Morgana. They were so alike, yet so different… and yet, their allure remained the same. Their icy beauty, their distant grace, their flirtatious games, the soft moments of kindness when they let down their guard… he sighed. Arthur would have called him a love sick fool. Arthur. He would see Arthur again. He just hoped he had meant his words of forgiveness…

His thoughts hit a dead end as he stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady. This was it. Into the Lion's Den. Literally.

"F- Fortuna Major," he said, steeling himself. The door swung open to the warm embrace of the Gryffindor Common Room, bustling with boisterous wizards and witches, engaging in a myriad of activities. Yet, as he entered, a hush fell over the room, as all eyes fell on him. Anger boiled within him. If anything, this was worse than if he had entered to raging accusations.

"Come on then," he yelled. "Say what's on your mind. Call me a liar. A cheat. We all know you think so!"

"You have guts, Potter, I'll give you that," Ron spat, flanked by Seamus and Dean. For a moment, he saw the parallel between the present and Draco, flanked by his goons. He snorted. Ron, of course, misunderstood. "Oh, you think I'm funny, do you? Well, we'll see who's laughing with the entire school turned against you! How dare you show your face here?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "You're a right git, you know that? Like me or not, this is still my dorm."

"Says the glory hound, cheating their way to fame and glory," Angelina hissed. "Your scar can't save you this time!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry snarked. "I was under the impression that my scar was somehow all powerful, and granted me god-like powers. That's what you all seem to think."

"Nah," Seamus laughed. "We think it made you arrogant, and spoiled. Can't handle a year without the spotlight, can you?"

"Are you hearing yourself?" Harry scoffed. "I hate fame. I've always sought to avoid it. Yet I'm always put in these death traps you guys like to gawp at. Or did you think that was me celebrating at the feast?"

"Shut up, traitor," Ron hissed. "Everyone knows that you were just being a coward, like always. I mean, come on! You fainted at the sight of a Dementor!"

Harry pinched his nose. "Did your parents drop you on your collective heads as children? No wait, don't answer that. I don't think you could understand the question. I mean, come on, who is everyone? First year, I was told that everyone knew that all Dark wizards come from Slytherin. What do you know, I've met a Ravenclaw Death Eater, and - shocker - a Gryffindor Death Eater." He laughed. "Sheep, the lot of you."

"Watch your mouth!" Alicia spat. "You don't get a say - you robbed us of an honest representative."

Harry laughed. "That's rich. There's still a bloody Hogwarts Champion! His name is Cedric Diggory. Or are you too ashamed to admit a Puff was a better pick than you? I tell you, the collective IQ of Magical Britain is lower than that of a potato!"

"Why you-"

"Enough!" All eyes turned to the balcony. Standing there was a girl not much older than Harry, red in the face. Katie Bell. "Shut up, the lot of you. We've known Harry for three years. Do you really think he would cheat like this?"

There was a chorus of yesses, followed by a solitary but loud 'no!' from Neville. Katie blinked, clearly not expecting such an unashamed response. "Well- see here-"

"Thanks for trying, guys," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm starting to think that magic saps people's common sense. Don't put yourself in their way. They'll just hate you as well."

"Oh, shut up, Potter!" Ron spat. "Stop trying to play the good guy."

"I'm not," Harry laughed hysterically. "I'm trying to play the normal guy - that's all I've ever wanted to be: normal!"

Ron went to say something, but was stopped by one of the Weasley twins slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Okay," the other cheered. "All those who are anti-Harry, kindly vacate the common room. Everyone who wants to celebrate Harry succeeding where all else fails, let's PART-AY!"

Music blared around the room as Harry stood stock still, shaking with anger. "SHUT UP!" The music cut out. "This is not something to celebrate!" he laughed incredulously. "This is an assassination attempt! Did you party when my parents were killed? Oh wait - you did! So sure, have fun, drink yourselves silly - just leave me alone." With that, he turned, stomping up the stairs towards his room. He was greeted, however, by the scowling face of one Hermione Granger.

"I bet you're so pleased with yourself," she grumbled.

"Did you not hear me?" Harry stared incredulously. "Hello, did anyone hear me?"

"PISS OFF, POTTER!" Seamus yelled.

"Right, you heard me," he sighed. "So you're just thick, then."

"Oh, ha ha," Hermione mocked. "Laugh it up. Just don't come crying to me when you need help. Merlin knows I won't forgive you."

Yeah, he thought furiously, as he slumped into his bed. I do.

ROA

Harry awoke, spluttering as his cold face slammed into the hard floorboards.

"Get out, Potter," Ron spat. "Some of us want peace during our breakfast, without being bothered by lying traitors."

Harry fumbled for his glasses, sliding the bent frames onto his face. He looked around in horror, staring at the sodden bed that he had been lying in moments earlier, before being tossed off. There was enough water that it had started to pool along the floor, drenching the outside of his trunk "You git!"

"I'm sorry," Neville apologised. "I tried to stop them."

"Do that again, Longbottom, and you will be next!" Seamus laughed, tossing another bucket over his bed.

"Oh, just stop already Seamus," Harry spat, scrambling to his feet, staring at the larger boy. "The damage has already been done."

"Speak only when spoken too, Potter," the Irish boy hissed, filling and tossing another bucket to punctuate his point.

"Now, Potter," Ron smirked. "Get out of here in five minutes, or the incendios are going to start coming out."

"What!?" he yelped, fumbling with the clasps on his trunk. "I'll tell McGonagall!"

"And who's she going to believe?" Ron laughed. "The entirety of the house, or one lying toad?"

Harry fumed silently, throwing on Dudley's old hand-me-downs. Thank goodness it was a weekend - he didn't think he could handle this before lessons.

ROA

Soon enough, he found himself at the centre of the empty Gryffindor table, in a near empty Great Hall, filling up his plate with fresh breakfast. Those who were there either ignored him, or sent him scathing glares. He ignored them, long since used to them.

"Look what we have here," came a drawling voice, amusement filled. "Scarhead, expelled from the Pride?"

"Har har," Harry deadpanned, not even looking at his rival. "Did you think of that, or did you have to ask daddy?"

"Shut up, Potter," Draco hissed. "Cowards don't get to insult people."

"Why does everyone think I'm a coward?" he asked incredulously. "Hello, I literally jumped into the Chamber of Slytherin a couple of years ago! Does a coward do that?"

Draco ignored him. "Father and I have a bet, you know."

"Oh goodie," Harry muttered. "Is it who is the most inbred? Who had less brain cells?"

Again, his comments were ignored. "I don't think you'll last ten minutes. Father disagrees."

"Oh, does he?" Harry feigned interest. "Come to realise that defeating his master three times actually means something."

Once more, Draco pretended he hadn't spoken. "He doesn't think you'll last five!"

There was riotous laughter from the group that had begun to form, both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Oh, brilliant. Finally, they were united, and it was against him. Harry just rolled his eyes. "Very smart. How long did it take you to come up with that? An hour. Two hours? A day?"

Draco just sniffed, strutting away with an air of undeserved entitlement.

"Look what we have here," came another voice, that of Ron Weasley. "Scarhead, come to brood?"

"You know, I'm suffering from a severe case of deja vu," he laughed. "I could have sworn I just had the same conversation with Draco."

He was ignored. He felt like he was being ignored a lot. "You're in my seat, Potter."

Harry blinked. "Ron, I literally sat here to be as far away from you as I could be."

"You are in my seat."

"Fine," Harry sighed, standing up to leave. As he stood up, a leg was shoved in front of him, causing him to trip, landing in an undignified heap. "Oh, yeah, real mature."

He stood up, dusting himself down, before striding to the other side of the table. As he went to draw the chair out, however, Seamus slid in. "That's my seat, Potter."

He raised his hands in surrender, moving to the middle. Again, he was stopped by a student, this time Dean. "Potter-"

"It's your seat, yeah I get it," Harry grumbled, looking at the Head Table. "Are none of you going to do anything?" He sighed as the Professors pointedly looked anywhere but at him. Except Snape. Snape smirked.

Shaking his head, he moved to sit at the Ravenclaw table, but was blocked by a book-wielding student sliding absently into a seat. At least, he thought it was absently. When it happened three more times, he got the hint.

"Not so bloody oblivious now, are you?" he muttered, moving towards the Hufflepuff table. His target was changed immediately by the sheer volume of glares emanating from the Badgers. "To Slytherin then."

Thankfully, Harry managed to slot silently between Daphne and her sister, neither of whom made any sign to acknowledge his presence. He could understand that. He leant forward to grab some food, before groaning. Great. After all that fuss, he was out of food.

"Here," Daphne hissed, too quietly for anyone to hear but him. "Under the table."

He fumbled aimlessly until he grabbed a small plate ladened with a couple slices of toast. He slid the two pieces into his jogging bottom pockets, giving a near imperceptible nod to his Slytherin friend, before making his way out of the hall, ignoring his growling stomach and his parched throat.

Scoffing his source of nourishment in the dubious safety of his dorm, he took a deep drink from the bathroom taps, before grabbing his broom and invisibility cloak. He went to leave, before he was struck by a sudden idea. He strode over to the window, pushing slightly. Sure enough, it opened, large enough for him to go through.

He stuffed the cloak in his pocket, hoping the crumbs wouldn't mess the heirloom up, before mounting the Firebolt, ready to enter the bliss that flying always brought him. Not a moment too soon, either.

"Potter!" Ron yelled. "How dare you step foot in this dorm."

"Oh, piss off you git," Potter scoffed, taking a step towards the window.

"Methinks he needs to be taught a lesson," Seamus smirked.

Ron nodded. "Aye. Aculeo!"

Seconds before the white light of the stinging hex hit him, Harry fell out of the window, the broom taking a moment to kick in, before he sped through the air, allowing the tension to drip from his form. No matter what was going on, he would always enjoy flying. He remembered the first time he had ever flown, on the back of Kilgharrah in a time when flying was a known impossibility. He remembered the fear across Arthur's face giving way to glee when he had finally learnt of his magic, atop the back of the mighty dragon as they flew to… their death. They all died that day. At least Kilgharrah died from old age.

He sighed. He missed his friends.

ROA

Seconds after touching down on the ground and pocketing his shrunken broom, Harry felt his hairs stand on end, and dropped to the ground, hearing a soft wind pass overhead, followed by a quiet thud as the wall behind him was struck by a curse. He looked up, expecting to see robes of green and silver towering over him, or even red and gold, what with the events of the morning. He was decidedly not expecting to see a plethora of students in black and yellows. Hufflepuffs.

"Er…" he stammered. "Hey Ernie, Justin… I want to say Hannah? Sorry, I don't really know any of your names."

"Think you're above us, do you Potter?" Ernie spat. "Fourth year, and you still don't know the names of your fellow students?"

"I'm a very antisocial person!" he defended. "I only know your names because of second year."

"Yeah, second year," Justin snorted. "We should have seen it then. You're dark, Potter. You're arrogant, cruel and dark."

"And you're myopic dollop heads," Harry drawled. "What can we do about it?"

"There's only one thing you do to dark wizards," Hannah hissed. "You lot are like sick dogs - so we put you down. Relacio!"

Harry rolled to the side, dodging the cutter, his eyes bugging at the actions of the students. "Are you mad? This is-" he was forced to duck by a blasting hex fired by Ernie. "This is attempted murder!"

"Nah!" Justin laughed. "This is a lynching. And guess what? The magical world never outlawed those. Impedimenta!"

Harry scrambled to his feet, jumping back so that the spell splashed against the floor. Another cutter was fired, followed by a stunner, as he scampered across the cobbled floor, his broom in one hand as he gripped a door in the other, slamming it behind him.

He sat there, panting for breath, listening to the thumping against the doors, the bellowing for him to stop being a coward. Even after they had stopped, after his tormentors had grown bored and went to support the one who they saw as the real champion, he remained there, head pounding as he hid from the pain of the world, his only companions his broom, cloak and wand. How long he sat there, he did not know, but the halls were empty, yet still light.

Tossing the cloak over him, he quietly made his way to the Great Hall, which, sure enough, held the contents of the school in all their cruel, petty glory. Cloak still on, he made his way through the noise, catching snippets of conversation.

"-lying coward-"

"-the freak got away-"

"-give him his just desserts-"

He sighed. Of course he was the main piece of gossip. He was that on a quiet day - just wait till something really happened.

And it wasn't just the Hogwarts students, either. With his recently recovered memories came a handful of new skills, including his knowledge of the Old Language, which was close enough to the Germanic language the Durmstrang students spoke to be able to have a passing understanding, and mediaeval French, which could still be found in much of the modern language.

"-boy-who-lived? More like boy-who-fled-"

"-coward wouldn't last two days in Durmstrang-"

"-pathetic display. Typical Englishman-"

Harry shook his head, ignoring them. It wasn't their fault - the foreigners, at least. If he didn't know him, he would have come to that conclusion. But the Hogwarts students knew him better by now.

Once again, there was a gap beside Daphne, in which he, still invisible, slid.

"Muffilato," he whispered, imagining a dome of silence surrounding himself and Daphne. She frowned, looking around. "Don't react. I'm under an invisibility cloak, and we are now under a dome of silence." Her eyes widened slightly, but there was no other response. "I'm just going to eat here, but I could do with you passing me some food." A subtle nod. "Chicken wing, please." She grabbed one, placing it on a plate in front of Harry. "Roast potato. Broccoli."

"That was actually fairly intelligent," she stated, sounding moderately surprised. "Good. I do not tolerate idiots well. Foolishness is as dangerous as dishonesty or betrayal."

He gave her a small smile, before remembering she couldn't see him. "Thanks." He frowned. Would she be so willing to help, if she remembered who he was, what he did? He doubted it.

"How goes the war?" she whispered out the corner of her mouth.

Harry frowned. "War?"

She smirked slightly. "You vs the world. The idiots against the innocent?"

"It's not a war," he scoffed. "Just a bunch of miserable schoolchildren with nothing better to do." He paused. "And which am I? The idiot, or the innocent?"

"Well," Daphne said. "I meant the innocent, but if the cap fits."

"Har de har," he drawled, deadpan. "Well, it's been fine. Couple of scraps, but I've just been hiding."

She sniffed. "Idiot."

"Oi!" Harry snapped, shaking his head. "It was my only option!"

"People will not believe you if you skulk around in the shadows like a thief in the night," she spat. "Get out of here, and rethink your plan. I will not help such a fool."

"I haven't finished eating."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "So? You've eaten more than you would have. But I refuse to entertain your presence any longer. I may start to… reconsider my allegiances."

"Fine," he growled, vanishing the plate and stowing the food in his pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She did not respond, and he swept out of the hall.

ROA

As soon as he entered his dorm, he knew something was wrong. The magic in the air felt malevolent, cruel. Like a pressure over his head, a living entity of anger and spite, buzzing and pricking against him. And then there was the stench, contained in the region surrounding his bed. It was not present when he first entered the room, but as he stepped towards his bed, a noxious poison erupted in his nasal cavities, so strong and thick that he gagged, choking on the sickly odour.

"No no no no," he muttered as he ran to his bed, leaning over to find his trunk, pulled out from under his bed. Or rather, what had once been his trunk.

It was battered and broken, the reinforced walls having given way to what looked like blasting hexes and bludgeoners, blanked by flames. His belongings - nothing valuable, thankfully, for he had had the presence of mind to bring all that he valued with him on his flight, even if not for this purpose - was drowned in sludge, ruined beyond all repair.

He gagged, his lunch making a sudden return, vomit joining the toxic goop in which his worldly goods wallowed.

His hand pinching his nose, his eyes watering, he leant in, examining the brown substance. Dungbombs, it looked like, but with a bit of an extra kick. Perhaps enhancement potions, or just something else. He shook his head. Petulant children.

Remembering an old spell from his days in Camelot, he focused, before whispering a spell. "Yfel swaeccan ne." He felt the flare of magic in his eyes, blissfully burning through his veins, as he tentatively lowered his hand, taking a deep breath in. He nodded in satisfaction. He couldn't smell a thing. It would do for the twelve hours it lasted. It was an odd sensation, but better than the alternative.

It was at that moment that his roommates entered. Growling, he swung around, wand levelled at his former friend. "Ronald Bilius Weasley," he whispered, voice deathly quiet. "You've gone too far."

Immediately, he was greeted by three wands, and a nervous looking Neville attempting to avoid the conflict.

"Oh no, Potter," Ron spat. "I don't think we've gone quite far enough yet. You still seem to think you're better than us. First you don't even bother coming to dinner, too good to be seen in our company, and then you have the audacity to complain about your stuff?"

"As if you would have even let me eat," Harry scoffed. "And I think I'm entitled to complain - you've wrecked everything I own!"

"So? Just replace them - you have the money," Ron scowled.

"Oh, money money money," Harry laughed. "It's always been about the fame and money, hasn't it!"

"So you admit it!" Ron crowed.

Harry stared at him. "You idiot. You absolute pillock! How bright must your jealousy be, to blind you so? Or is your ego just so large that you can't see past it."

"Shut up, Potter," Seamus interjected. "We don't want to hear your insults. Piss off, and learn some respect."

Harry rolled his eyes, turning towards the bathroom. Moments later, he lay in his bed, eyes shut as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

ROA

When he woke up, he realised he couldn't smell anything. He smiled, remembering his spell. Thank goodness. He cast a silent tempus, seeing that it read 1 AM. Shaking his head, he rolled over, kicking his duvet off so as to cool down a little. The flames were quite hot, after all.

His eyes snapped open. Flames. He bolted upright, stifling a scream as he looked at his leg, engulfed in a fiery prison. He rolled out of the bed turned inferno, stamping out the flames as he cradled his burning leg, staring in horror at the bonfire.

Flames engulfed the wood and fabric, licking and twisting around the materials as they slowly blackened and burnt all in their path. A sickly crack sounded as a beam gave way, collapsing into the main flames.

"Damn it!" Seamus swore. "Told you we should have stunned him."

"I don't know," Dean muttered. "I mean, sure, he deserves to be punished, but killed?"

"Damn it, Seamus!" Harry yelled. "This is murder!"

"Nah," Ron laughed. "This is a lynching. And we can just dump the body elsewhere. How about the Slytherin dungeons?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I can't do this, I'm going back to sleep."

"Dean!" he cried desperately. "Help me?" He turned to Neville. "Neville?"

Neville shook his head from his position hidden in his bed, petrified, but Dean only sneered. "Help you? Why would I do that? I just don't want your blood on my hands."

Ron raised a wand. "Bombarda!"

Harry ducked, but felt a chunk of splintered stone dig into his previously unharmed leg. He felt a breeze lick his back, and turning he found hole in the castle wall. He backed up, feeling unstable standing by the unguarded edge.

Seamus raised his wand, spitting out a stunning hex, followed by a petrifier after the first was dodge.

He gave a glance at the drop behind him, drawing his wand. "Accio uniform!" The clothing zipped to his hands as he ducked a stinging hex, before he took a step towards the edge. "Come on guys, think this through. This is the testosterone talking."

Ron's nostrils flared. "Flagello!"

A thick stream of orange light whipped towards Harry, as his eyes flared with magic. With a precious handful of stolen seconds, he stepped off of the tower, the flaming whip only making a glancing blow across his chest rather than the deadly gouge intended.

Panicking as he fell, he desperately tried to think of a plan, anything to save him. "Bedyrne me!" He stammered out, desperately trying and thinking of a location through the haze of pain that fogged his mind. "Astyre me… panonweard!"

He felt the gusts of conjured wind sweep him away moments before he hit the ground. He reappeared elsewhere, collapsing to the ground as his vision dimmed, body failing from pain. He heard startled gasps and a shriek, but he couldn't place his location.

"Please…" he mumbled. "Help me…"

And then his mind collapsed into the abyss of nothingness.

ROA

Images flashed before his eyes, memories of pain from both his former life and his current. He saw dragon flame licking at his chest, felt the serket's venom coursing through his veins. He felt the Fomorroh digging into his neck, and felt the cold steel enter his chest as he held Morgana's dying form. He saw Voldemort's wraith strike against him, and felt the Basilisk's fang strike his weakened form.

"Oh, Merlin, you will always get into trouble, won't you?"

"Yes, dear. Yes I will."

Harry blinked, finding himself once more in the plane in which he had spoken with his previous incarnation.

"Me," he greeted, before looking at the other form present. "Freya? You're still here."

The girl gave a sad smile, nodding. "I am tied to the Lake. I will not be reborn, unlike your true love."

"Freya-" he said softly, but was interrupted by a finger on his lips.

"No, I understand," she sighed. "You loved me, but not as much as you loved the lady."

He hung his head. "I'm sorry." Then he blinked, looking at Magic who stood to the side, from flickering like some sort of spectre. "I thought you were going. Like, going to be part of me?"

"Merlin," Freya chided. "You never can do anything the proper way, can you?"

"Hey!" he objected, before pausing. "And it's Harry, now."

"This is what I meant!" she laughed. "You began the process, accepting your past, but you still think yourself separate - still think of yourself as Harry."

"Am I not?" he asked.

"No," Magic replied. "Harry is a facade, a placeholder. You are Merlin. We are Merlin. We were Merlin for twenty-six years of life, yet you cling to the half-life of fourteen!"

Harry grimaced. "I'll get there. Is that why I am here?"

"Why you are here?" Freya laughed. "No, no, you misunderstand. You brought yourself here."

"What?" Harry stuttered. "B-but why?"

"Answers, explanations, fulfilment," Freya rambled, before shrugging. "Does it matter? While no longer a half-life, you still are not complete. Or perhaps this place is simply to be used as a refuge."

"Refuge?" he frowned, before his eyes widened. "Those bastards! How could they do this to me?"

Magic sighed. "I like to think that I have a fairly good grip on the human mind, what with how long I have pondered it. I think it all comes down to one thing: Uther was right."

"What?" he squawked, unable to contain his surprise.

"Partially," Freya shrugged. "Of course, the indiscriminate killings are wrong, but his philosophy?

"Magic corrupts," Magic stated plainly. "Or rather, power does. We have here a horde of angsty teenagers fuelled by anger and jealousy and testosterone. In a normal school, we would see severe bullying, broken limbs, maybe a stabbing."

"But this isn't bullying. This is attempted murder! Why would they go so far?"

"Because they can," Magic stated plainly. "They carry a weapon at all times, and can maim or kill with a word. It's so easy - and so, in the heat of the moment, they do."

Harry frowned, but nodded.

"And the law doesn't help, either," Freya chimed in. "If they do it right, they can walk away scot free."

Harry sighed, but felt lighter. "I understand." He blinked, suddenly feeling a sudden wave of vertigo.

Magic's form shuddered. "We are running out of time, Merlin. Now, wake up, and find some way to accept who you are."

Harry scowled, but nodded. "Fine." He turned to leave, but felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin…" Freya whispered. "Do not repeat your mistakes. She will forgive. Just be honest."

Harry sighed. "I wish that were true."

He turned, and walked away from the light, ready to face the waking world.

A/N: And cut! Hope that wasn't too bash-y. I'm trying to have pretty much everyone anti-Harry, and make his life pretty dangerous, but with a logical reason behind it.

Big news! This is now my most successful fic, with well over a hundred favourites and follows! Can we reach two hundred? I hope so.

So, next time will be the Weighing of the Wands, an attempt at writing Skeeter, and Harry/Daphne interaction. Yay!

So, how was this chapter? Let me know!

Please favourite, follow and review, and if you want a conversation, feel free to PM me.

On a side note, do you like Tolkien? If you do, perhaps you might want to check out my new one-shot, Concerning Hobbits. Just a little crack-fic that popped into my head.

Anyway, see you next time!

This is JaguarAJG, signing off.