Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Merlin

Chapter 2: The Storm Begins

Harry sat in a cold, iron chair, slumping over the desk that he was chained to. Stupid bureaucrats. Stupid wizards. Stupid ministry.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

ROA

He and the prat stood, back to back, holding back the wooden door, pounded at by snarling, undead knights. Beside him was her. He couldn't bear to look at her. Just the thought of what he was to do sickened him. But it was necessary. He was not destined to love, to be happy. He was destined to help the prat. Even at the cost of his happiness. Especially at the cost of his happiness. He had thought that perhaps Freya, with her lower station, might have allowed him some semblance of happiness, but even she was not safe from his curse. And, in the dark corners of his heart, he had to admit that his love for her paled in comparison to his love for her.

He looked at the prat. The prat nodded at him. They lifted the bar, only their brute force holding it shut. Well, mostly the prat's force.

"If I need a servant in the next life…" the prat began.

"Don't ask me!" he replied.

Laughing, the prat drew his sword and leapt into the corridor, the door slamming shut behind him. Quickly, he sealed the door once more. He turned. They were alone. It was time. Time to damn his soul.

Ignorant of his resignation, she stared at the door. "He's not going to survive out there."

He hung his head. "I know." And neither will you.

"We've got to do something!" she yelled, voice desperate.

"I know." But we won't.

They pulled up a long piece of cloth, preparing to make a rope, ready to escape. "Here," he said. "You tear this up. I'll make rope."

They got to work, and he poured the powder into the waterskin. The poison. The act was sealed. His soul was damned. "Here, have some water."

She shook her head. "I'm not thirsty."

Stop making this so hard! "If we get out of here, you may not get another chance to drink."

She scoffed. "If we get out of here."

He handed her the waterskin, but she put it down, ignoring it. Damn! he thought. She needs to drink it. Else… we're doomed. He picked the skin up, pretending to drink. "Here."

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"No, you have some before I finish it."

She sighed. "Thank you."

She put the cursed drink to her lips and drank deeply, and he felt something crack in his heart.

She choked. Staring at the waterskin, a look of horror dawned on her face. She stared at him as she began to convulse, the look of betrayal piercing his soul. He looked away, unable to bear it. Damn it, he was already damned. He didn't need to die as well. That didn't mean he couldn't hold her. Hold her in her last moments. And so he did, cradling her as his tears ran freely. And she had no strength to fight him.

Her sister burst in, a look of horror across her face as she tore her from his arms. He didn't try to resist. He didn't deserve her. She wasn't breathing now.

Her sister stared at him. "What have you done?"

"What I had to," he croaked, voice gravelly.

"You poisoned her!"

"You gave me no choice," he whispered. He was broken, now, and it was all his fault. He knew it, as surely as he knew he would never forget the expression on her face.

ROA

The door slammed open, and he lurched awake. Blinking away the tears that lingered from his peculiar dream, he saw Amelia Bones, the Head Auror. She had shepherded him into this room earlier that morning, and had not allowed any to enter since.

"Mr Potter," she said, calm and professional. "You have previously been given two charges of underage magic-"

"Oi!" he snapped. "I was framed for the first, and the Minister personally pardoned me for the second."

"Very well," she replied, placing the files away. "This morning, you were found underneath the Dark Mark, with a large drain on your magic and your wand's last action having been the summoning of the mark. You were also found with two abused girl's, seemingly being prepared for sexual assault. Do you have any explanation, or shall this go to court?"

"This is absurd!" Harry scowled. "I don't even know what the Dark Mark symbolises, let alone how to cast it! And the mere thought of rape…" he shuddered. "Disgusting."

"Oh? You don't know the Mark of You-Know-Who?" she raised an eyebrow. "So how do you explain the situation, and your drop in magical volume?"

"Magical volume?"

"The amount of magical energy present in your body," she said impatiently.

"I was running for the portkey point, when I heard someone call for help. I found the Greengrasses being levitated by a Death Eater, someone named Goyle, and tried to help. Unfortunately, I seemed to have lost my wand," Harry said, looking sheepish.

"Convenient."

"Oh, shut up," he snapped. "Anyway, I threw some stones at the terrorist, and managed to distract him. When he tried to attack me, something happened and I accidentally shielded myself."

"Absurd," she scoffed. "You are well beyond the point where accidental magic occurs."

"I don't have an explanation either!"

"It still doesn't explain the curse being present as your wand's last spell," Bones said, clearly unconvinced.

"I was getting there!" he scowled. "It was at that point when some other man, wearing the same robes but no mask, ran in, and summoned the Mark. He dropped the wand and apparated, and I realised it was my wand. I picked it up just when you arrived!"

She stared at him for a moment. "Mr Potter, you do realise that this is one of the most ridiculous excuses I have ever heard in my career as an Auror."

"Well it's true, you stupid bitch!"

Her glare turned icy. "I will pretend I didn't hear that."

"So your deaf as well as stupid," he scoffed.

"If you are so adamant that your tale is true, do you have any evidence? Witnesses?" she growled.

"Yes!" Harry cried. "The Greengrasses! They were present the whole time! Well, Astoria was unconscious, but Daphne wasn't."

"Irrelevant," she snapped. "They were subject to torture. Their testimony could be compromised!"

"Ronald and Ginevra Weasley, and Hermione Granger!" he added. "They were there when we heard the cries for help, and saw me go to help."

Bones made a note on her parchment. "Noted. Were they present for the event?"

"No, but-"

"Can they confirm that you did not have your wand?"

"Well, no-"

"So I am afraid that even with these witnesses, you are very much still the prime suspect," Bones said, wiping her brow. "Are there any others?"

"How many people do you expect me to have seen in that chaos?" Harry snapped incredulously. "You think I spent that stampede gathering witnesses? No, I don't have any witnesses. I mean, we have magic, right? Isn't there a truth spell?"

"Veritaserum can be beaten with a strong enough will," she scoffed.

"Now that's convenient," he drawled. "What next, the Trace doesn't pick up spell's done at Quidditch Matches?"

"No, the Trace is flawless," she scowled.

"Then you should see that I did not use magic!"

She stared at him for a moment, before pressing a button on the desk. "Mafalda? Check Trace number three-one-oh-seven-eight-oh."

There was silence for a moment, before a staticky, female voice replied. "No activity since June."

Bones's eyes widened, before she turned to Harry. "My apologies, Mr Potter. You are free to go."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ahem." She blushed, but tapped a wand on his restraints. He stood up, rubbing his unbound wrists. "Now, can someone get me the Weasleys? I've been staying with them." Bones gave a sharp nod, and he left the interrogation room.

ROA

He ran through the hall's, desperately searching for the prat. There! At the end of the hall, surrounded by knights. "Arthur! Arthur, I need to talk to you!"

The prat turned to face him, stony faced. "Arrest him."

His eyes widened. "What? Arthur, what are you doing?"

He was ignored, and the knights gripped his arms, dragging him to the throne room. He was thrown to the ground, staring up at the king. On one side was his mentor, possessed by the goblin, and on the other side, the one he dared not love. He fought to keep down his disappointment when her gaze settled on him, full of disgust and hatred.

"Is it true?" the king asked. "You were responsible for the afflictions I and other members of the court have suffered?"

"What? No!" he cried. He had been a loyal servant all these years, with the exception of secretly practising magic.

The king turned to the goblin. "Gaius?"

The goblin smirked at him. "I found this in your room. It is a book of spells and enchantments."

She rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced. However, she hated him enough that she would let the farce continue no matter how false it was. Knowing that broke his heart just a little further.

He turned to the king, then to the prat, desperately seeking support. "He's lying. That's not Gaius!"

The prat scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"He's been possessed by a goblin," he exclaimed stubbornly.

The goblin smirked. "The boy is reduced to making the most desperate and ridiculous accusations."

The king gaped at him. "You seriously expect me to believe that Gaius is a goblin."

"It's… it's controlling him!" he stammered, recognising how absurd it sounded. "Gaius is still in there… somewhere." I hope, he thought.

The prat rolled his eyes. "Do you have any proof for these accusations?"

"No!" he cried.

The goblin feigned despair. "I fear that magic has corrupted you. It pains me more than I can tell you."

"I really doubt that," he muttered.

Ignoring him, the goblin continued his performance. "My lord, I have been harbouring a sorcerer. For that, I offer the most sincere apology."

"You were not to know, Gaius," the king reassured kindly. He glared at him. "He's fooled us all."

"It's not me that's fooling you!" he cried desperately.

"Silence!" the king bellowed. You've been found guilty of using magic and enchantments. In accordance with our laws, you will pay with your life." He gestured to the knights. "Take him away."

He turned one last time towards the prat. "Arthur? You believe me, right Arthur?"

But all he was given was a stony glare.

And so he was dragged away, limp and resigned, gazing at equally triumphant smirks on the faces of the goblin and her.

ROA

He awoke to being shaken. "Harry! Harry, mate!"

He blinked, blearily pushing on his glasses. "Ron? Wassamatta?"

The redhead shrugged. "That's what I want to know. You kept whimpering about some dude named Arthur. Did you have a vision?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, just a strange dream." Really, a goblin? Goblin's did not lower themselves to the level of pranking.

Ron nodded, before grinning. "OK, wanna play quidditch?"

Laughing, Harry nodded, and ran off to join his friend.

ROA

The platform was, as usual, bustling. Tearful parents, sullen seniors and hyperactive teenagers filled his view, the dull murmur of idle talk filling his ears. And then they spotted him.

"Mr Potter Mr Potter!"

"Mr Potter, is it true that you faced Sirius Black last summer?"

"Mr Potter, please sign this for me!"

"Mr Potter, please sign my hat!"

"Mr Potter, please sign my photo!"

"Mr Potter, is it true you are thinking of dropping out to play Quidditch full time?"

"Mr Potter, please sign my baby!"

"Mr Potter, please give me your baby!"

"Enough," Mrs Weasley. For a moment, there was silence. "Can't you see the boy is trying to get to the train?"

Harry gave her a small smile. If only it were that easy.

"Mr Potter, let me help you with your luggage!"

ROA

Sighing, Harry flopped down into his seat in an empty carriage, watching as Hermione and Ron followed him in. The sigh became more pronounced as the two immediately began to bicker.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "If only you'd work a little harder, you might make something of yourself."

"Yeah?" he snarled. "And if you worked a little less, you might have some friends!"

"Enough," he snapped. "Stop bickering. You're only going to say something you'll regret."

They stared at him. "When did you get so mature?" Hermione asked, staring at him.

"Oi!" he yelped, feigning offence. "I'm mature!"

"Yeah," Ron said. "And I'm Merlin."

Harry frowned, but shook his head. Odd.

There was a thud, and the door slid open. There, in his mighty pratliness, stood Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherins. "Hello, Potter. Looking forward to my pureblood supremacy to utterly destroy you?"

Harry stared at him. "You know that I beat you in every exam last year, right?"

Draco scoffed. "Nepotism in action."

"Ooh," he crowed. "Draky-drake knows a big wordy-word!"

"Shut up, idiot," Draco hissed.

"Make me, dollop head."

Draco paused, staring at him. "What on earth does that even mean?"

Harry grinned. "In two words?" He paused, pretending to think. "Draco Malfoy."

"Oh ha ha," he drawled. "I suppose you have been planning this all summer."

"You know, I did think that one day you would learn to actually think, but after all this time, I've come to realise that will never happen." he paused. "You will always be a dollop head."

"I am not a dollop head!"

"If you say so."

"We're getting off track!" Draco snapped.

"Really?" Harry said, feigning shock. "And I was having so much fun."

"I came to gloat that I knew something that you didn't!"

Harry laughed. "Oh! Why didn't you say so!"

"Well, it's not very cunning to admit that!" he moaned.

"You just did," Harry pointed out.

"But… but…" he stammered. "Argh! My father will hear about this!" He stamped his foot, leaving the compartment in a huff.

Ron stared at him with wide eyes. "That… was…"

"Incredibly rude," Hermione sniffed.

"I was gonna say bloody amazing," Ron grumbled.

Hermione tutted. "I know he is an… unpleasant person, but you cannot speak like that."

"Right, yes, okay," Harry nodded, completely unconvinced. "I'm gonna take a nap - mind waking me up when we get there?"

ROA

He woke up, feeling someone kicking him. Blearily, he stared up at the furious face of the prat.

"You better have a damn good explanation for this," he spat. When he didn't respond, he dug another boot into his side. "Fine. I'll just keep kicking you."

He stumbled to his feet. "Arthur! You're back!"

"What do you mean, 'I'm back'," the prat huffed. "You're talking gibberish."

He held up his hands. "Listen to me. The castle is were injured in an attack, and passed out. I had to get you out of there."

The prat stared at him, stunned. He looked around. "So, where are we?"

He rubbed the back of his head. "We're heading north to a safe haven, to Ealdor. Hopefully the knights will meet us there."

The prat continued to look around. "And who are these people?"

"They're, err, smugglers."

"Smugglers!" he yelped.

"Shhh!" he scolded.

"All right, let's assume, for one moment, that you know what you're doing," the prat drawled condescendingly. "It still doesn't explain why I look like a village idiot."

"It's the perfect disguise!" he claimed. "No one would ever suspect you of being, you know… who you are."

"I'm sorry, I am just not going around looking like this."

"You have to," he grinned. "You have to keep in character."

"Character?" he hissed. "What character?"

At that moment, one of the smugglers burst forward. "You." He turned around. "We leave as soon as the horses are watered." He paused, sneering at the prat. "Explain it to the simpleton, would you?"

He gave the prat a sheepish grin, before following the smuggler.

"Simpleton," the smuggler said sharply, once the horses were watered.

He grinned at the prat. "He's talking to you."

ROA

He sighed as he stepped through the hall, a jug of fine wine gripped in his hand. Every feast, he is doomed to serve and observe, never taking part even in Samhain Feast, on the date of his birth. He snorted. Of course his birthday would be exactly half a year from the prat's, on Beltane. He shook his head. That was not what he was brooding about. No, even in a foreign kingdom, he was expected to wait tables.

As he reached the prat and the Queen's cups, however, he tripped upon a loose floorboard, sending the beverage all over the polished floorboards.

The Queen looked at him, an eyebrow cocked. "I think it's time for some entertainment. I'd love to see your fool perform. Given all his… failings, he must have some skills."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you," the prat snorted, before looking at him expectantly. "You heard the Queen, jump to it!"

"I'm not a fool," he snapped.

"Now that's debatable," he drawled.

"But I have no skills!" he protested.

"I know that," the prat drawled. "But we can't very well refuse the Queen when she's granted us safe passage, can we?"

Grumbling, he picked up four eggs, silently summoning his magic to his eyes.

He had never laughed as hard as he did at the dumbfounded look on the prat's face.

ROA

As he walked through the market, he saw a group of knights picking on a servant. Sighing, he stepped over to the servant, stopping the shield before he was made to pick it up again. People always said that he had a 'saving people' thing.

"Hey come on, that's enough," he placated, trying to be reasonable.

The blond knight, clearly the ringleader, stared at him in shock. "What?"

"You've had your fun, my friend."

"Do I know you?" the man, now labelled in his mind as 'prat', asked, looking puzzled.

"Er, I'm Merlin," he grinned, sticking out his hand.

The prat raised an eyebrow. "So I don't know you."

"Er, no."

"Yet you called me 'friend'," he drawled.

"That was my mistake."

"Yes, I think so," the prat sneered.

"Yeah," he grinned. "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." With that, he turned on his heel, determined to stalk off.

"Or I one who could be so stupid," the prat snorted.

He stopped. Damn him.

"Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?" the prat mocked.

"No…"

"Would you like me to help you?"

"I wouldn't if I were you," he warned.

"Why?" the prat chuckled. "What are you going to do to me?"

He shook his head. "Oh, you have no idea."

"Be my guest!" the prat laughed. "Come on! Come on! Come ooooon!"

He swung round, his fist sailing over the knight's ducked form. The prat took the opportunity to grip his arm, holding it painfully in place.

"I'll have you thrown in jail for that," the prat crowed.

"What?" he snapped. "Who do you think you are? The King?"

"No, I'm his son, Arthur."

He blinked. "Oh."

ROA

He awoke being shaken roughly awake. "Mate, will you shut up with your moaning about Arthur! It's getting irritating."

Harry blinked. Arthur. Merlin. What a strange dream. Or rather, a strange set of dreams. And they seemed to be getting more and more realistic, their details remaining in his mind for longer. He shook his head. Must be the stress getting to him. Perhaps he was just superimposing himself and his problems onto these ancient legends. Wait, that's not good. Perhaps he should see a psychiatrist. "Sorry, mate. I'll try not to do so in the future. Can't really help what comes out my mouth when I'm sleeping, now can I?"

"Yeah," Ron grumbled. "But it's always this Arthur fellow. Are you a poof?"

"Ronald!" Hermione gasped.

"No, Ron, I'm not," Harry sighed. "Just some weird dreams with a recurring character."

He studiously ignored Hermione's curious face, instead settling against the window, watching the countryside race past.

ROA

The Great Hall, as usual, was splendid, with its enchanted ceiling and floating candles perfectly encapturing the feeling of magic. And, for the first time ever, he actually got to watch another year's Sorting.

The Hat wobbled on its stall for a moment, clearing its throat, before it began to sing.

"Long ago, in this here land,

Sorcerers four came forth with power,

With sacred quest in hand,

So that magic may once more flower!

For tales of glory,

Pale in the light,

Of glorious prophecy,

And plain delight!

For a soul wouldst return,

In times to come,

So for the saviour's turn,

Great, they must become!

In Camelot's image, a school was built,

A northbound beauty from westward fame,

A library, reformed from guilt,

To prepare for the one they name!

So here I cite,

To all of magic,

Prepare for the future's might,

Else it might be tragic!"

Harry blinked. How odd. And he couldn't help but note the mention of Hogwarts… he shook his head. Surely, it was just a coincidence.

"That's odd," Hermione frowned. "It didn't even mention the houses!"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe it decided that this prophecy was more important."

Hermione blinked. "Do you think there really is a prophecy?"

"Of course there's a prophecy," Harry scowled. "And I'm gonna get pulled into it."

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed. "The universe is not out to get you."

"And I'll believe that when it gets off my back," he spat, turning to watch the Sorting.

Was I really that small? Harry thought with a grin, watching the pint sized firsties walking past. His eyes scanned the crowd of students, before catching a set of similar, yet different green eyes. He gave Daphne a small smile, and was returned with a glare. Great. This again. He hadn't even done anything this time!

He froze. This time? He hadn't done anything to her - he barely even knew her. He shook his head, turning back to his meal. Nothing to worry about. Just something else wrong with his brain. Hmm. He was starting to think that a psychiatrist might not be out of the picture.

After the meal was finished, Dumbledore rose, waiting for silence to reign over the hall. "Greetings, all, and welcome back to another year of glorious education. Now, as has unfortunately become usual, I wish to introduce the new Defence professor: Senior Auror Alastor Moody!"

"My dad mentioned him," Ron whispered. "He calls him Mad-Eye. Says he's crazy."

"I'll keep an eye on him," he replied solemnly. "I haven't had the best record with Defence professors, have I? Wonder how he'll try and kill me."

Hermione jabbed him in the ribs. "That's not funny! Don't joke about things like that."

"And that is not all that is happening this year," Dumbledore continued. "Firstly, it is my solemn duty to announce that the inter house Quidditch league has been suspended for a year, resuming next September." Immediately, there were cries of outrage, none so louder than the Weasley twins. "I know, I know. I have always been partial to the sport myself. There is a reason, though. As some of you no doubt have heard, the Ministry has decided to bring back the Triwizard Tournament, to be hosted this year at Hogwarts."

There was silence.

"You're joking!"

"No mister Weasley, I am not," Dumbledore laughed, ignoring the glare present on McGonagall's face. "Though it does remind me of one I heard about a whore, a goat and a-"

"Ahem."

"Right, yes," Dumbledore stopped, looking sheepishly at the Deputy Headmistress. "However, due to, uh, past tragedies-"

"Past tragedies?" Harry yelped, thankfully quietly.

"Yes," Hermione muttered. "All three champions died last time."

"-we will be putting in place an age line, so that only those of age may enter."

"BOLLOCKS!"

"Messers Weasley!" McGonagall snapped. "Keep your silence, or I shall force you."

"For those hoping to enter, know that if you win, you will be faced with untold riches and never-ending fame. Now," Dumbledore said, smiling. "You'll all need to be up tomorrow morning, ready to greet the foreign students. So, off to bed? Chop chop!"

ROA

The King stood before the cheering crowd and assembled knights, a serene smile crossing his worn face. "Knights of the realm, it's a great honour to welcome you to a tournament at Camelot. Over the next three days, you will come to put your bravery to the test, your skills as warriors, and of course, to challenge the reigning champion, my son, Prince Arthur. Only one can have the honour of being crowned champion, and he will receive a prize of 1,000 gold pieces." A chest was opened, revealing the golden coins. "It is in combat that we learn a knight's true nature, whether he is indeed a warrior or a coward. The tournament begins!"

The day passed in a blur, fight after fight, Merlin cheering himself hoarse rooting for Arthur.

Smiling, he shook his head. Idiots, the lot of them. Why risk life and limb for a bit of cash?

ROA

Harry stood at the lakeside, surrounded by his friends and classmates, eagerly awaiting the foreign hopefuls. He didn't have to wait long before Beauxbatons made their arrival.

"Look!"

"Is it a bird?"

"Is it a plane?"

"No," Harry whispered to Hermione. "It's Superman!"

"It's a… house?"

It was not a house, rather a giant carriage, filled with shapely women dressed in blue, and the odd boy who looked much the same, just without the curves. At the head, an arrogant looking woman, beautiful despite the unpleasant sneer, beside a towering woman.

"Dumblee-door," the giant sighed.

"Madame Maxime," Dumbledore greeted.

The second school, Durmstrang, arrived not long after, a skeletal boat rising from the depths of the lake.

"Albus Dumbledore, as I live and breathe!" the gruff looking headmaster greeted.

"Igor Karkaroff," Dumbledore smiled.

"Look!" Ron hissed. "It's Krum! It's Viktor bloody Krum!"

Harry followed his finger. Sure enough, the surly Quidditch player stood at the front of the students, stoic and serious. He shook his head. Why would they even want to enter, risking their lives for a little bit of cash? Idiots, the lot of them. Just like the knights.

ROA

"Merlin. Merlin."

He sat bolt upright, blinking, That was it. He would find the source of this damn whispering.

He snuck through the courtyard, hiding behind a statue as a contingent of guards passed by. Following the ever increasing volume of the whispers, he ducked into the dungeons, pausing just before the guard post. His eyes burning with magic, he knocked the dice of the table, sniggering silently as the incompetent baffoons chased after the rolling dice. He charged through, footsteps soft and silent, lighting a torch as he made his way downwards.

His destination, it seemed, was a cave, nay, cavern, stretching out to the limits of his vision, deep and wide, yet the only thing he could see was a staircase, leading to a large outcrop.

"I'm here!" Merlin cried with frustration. "What do you want with me!"

There was a thunderous boom, and the roar of wind like a hurricane, tearing through the cave. "Merlin," the voice said once again, seemingly laughing.

"Where are you?"

The wind roared again, a giant shape landing on the outcrop.

"I'm here," the dragon laughed. "How small you are, for such a great destiny!"

ROA

The hours merged into days, and the days into weeks, until Harry sat in the Great Hall on Halloween night, awaiting the names that would erupt from the Goblet of Fire.

He had had fewer dreams than the week before school, snapshots of his life as some pseudo-Merlin with Arthur and Gaius and some servant named Gwen. He saw the dragon again, whose name was Kilgharrah, who always spoke of some great destiny, yet other than that there was nothing extraordinary about these dreams, other than his name. It was just… the daily life of a servant.

And like the dreams, his life had been uneventful, the dull monotony of school work a throbbing background to the steady march of time. Even the foreign students did not bring much change, as insular as he was.

Yet here, sitting before the Goblet, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but every Halloween at Hogwarts had gone wrong, somehow, with the troll in first year, Mrs Norris's petrification in second year and Sirius's attack in third year. Sure, Sirius did turn out to be innocent, but he didn't know that at the time.

There was a burst of flames, and a singed piece of parchment fluttered out the ornate cup. Snatching it out of the air, Dumbledore peered at the name. "And the champion for Beauxbatons is… Fleur Delacour!"

There was a mix of boos and cheers as the beautiful yet arrogant girl stood up, not even looking back as she exited the hall.

Another flame, and another name. "The champion for Durmstrang is… Viktor Krum!"

And here it was the moment of truth. He crossed his fingers.

"And the champion for Hogwarts is…" please not him not him anyone but him please "...Cedric Diggory!"

Harry sighed in relief, slumping over the desk. And then something happened, causing him to freeze. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead.

"Harry Potter."

A/N: Poor Harry. Never catches a break, does he?

On the speed of updates... yeah, this is not normal. Expect longer gaps between chapters.

So, we're near the end of the 'prologue' arc - the bit where he's just starting to remember who he is. So yeah, Merlin will be here soon, or rather, Harry-Merlin hybrid. All the other arcs, though? Yeah, they will be longer.

By the way, I will not be doing the canon tasks. In fact, there will be more than three tasks. I know! Crazy, right?

Okay, below is a quick spoiler for what is to come, in case you want a challenge:

-Spoiler start-

So, I have already said that there will be more than just Merlin/Harry and Morgana/Daphne in this, right? Well, below is the list of Merlin characters set to show up. See if you can guess their HP counterpart!

- Arthur (Obviously)

- Gwen

- Gaius

- Leon

- Gwaine

- Lancelot

- Elyan

- Percival

- Mordred

- Morgause

- Nimeuh

- Uther

So, yeah. See if you can guess.

-Spoiler end-

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading. Please favourite, follow and review! They're the only things I get out of this, other than personal enjoyment. If you have any questions, feel free to PM.

This is JaguarAJG, signing off.