Merlin's Chosen

Rating: T

Summery: Arthur has slept in Avalon, the otherworldly place just beyond the reach of magic for all but Merlin and his chosen, recovering from the injuries sustained in the battle at Camlann. Years have passed and times have changed and Hogwart's school of Witchcraft and Wizardry has taken its place on the edge of the Lake of Avalon, unknown to modern witches and wizards. The world is in need of the Once and Future King to protect Albion again but to do that the immortal Merlin, the man that has learned to live backwards, must be there and he is nowhere to be found. It is now the job of Merlin's Chosen. Only, Harry Potter thinks he's going mental.

A/N: Soooooo, Hi? This chapter is certainly something. It was getting away from me so I decided to divide it. So that great scene I was looking forward to is being pushed to the next chapter. It is I would say about 80% written. I need to find a good place to end it and I have an idea. However, I do hope you enjoy this one and, hopefully, the next one won't take too long to get posted.

Everyone stay safe and try and stay healthy.

Chapter 20:

He stood in the center of the carnage, doing slow circles as the firemen worked around him to try to save the historical building. Mordred snorted at the effort, but he knew that the mundanes, the muggles were resilient and attempt to rebuild. And if Mordred laid curses in the foundation that would make that largely impossible, then so be it.

He had wanted to destroy the palace, but rather impressive wards surrounded the royal residence despite the family being full of non-magicals and had no connection to the royal family of his time. He did think that the magic had a rather familiar feeling to them that made him think that Merlin had a hand in protecting the Queen.

There was no such protections around their parliament building and while it wouldn't have the same punch as if he killed their royal family, it did have a nice flair to it.

He hissed as the ugly mark on his forearm burned with the call to the so-called dark lord's side and while Mordred would have liked to stick around and admire his handy work, he knew he had to stay in this magical's good graces. At least for the present moment.

Mordred appeared just outside the boundaries of the manor's wards and followed the others that had appeared before him. He pulled up the bone white mask and the deep hood before the light of the hall showed his borrowed face, a face that not even the Dark Lord has seen thanks to old magic. Even when the tried to rip open the veil between the living and the dead, Voldemort had no idea who he was really dealing with. Well placed spells was all it really took. Mordred sneered. Too bad it didn't work and he was once again stuck doing asinine research into how to defeat this Dumbledore and a boy, named Harry Potter.

Melting into the crowd gathered in the ballroom, Mordred watched as the co-called Dark Lord Voldemort paced back and forth waiting for all of them to settle, even then the room was silent as they waited for their lord to speak.

He stopped in the center of the raised dais, head lowered to his pale chest and the fear and tension settled heavy on the crowd.

"Who gave the order to attack the Muggle government?" His voice was low and cold as ice.

There was a low murmur of confusion, but Mordred smirked underneath his mask.

"Who gave the order?" The question was as quiet as before, still there was no one in the room that couldn't hear him.

"You risk exposing us to the Muggles and still no one answers?" He looked up. His red eyes were sharp and angry. Mordred had to hand it to the crowd for not fleeing in fear.

Another murmur swept through the crowd and Mordred felt a spike of fear that wasn't his own. One black-clad Death Eater stepped forward and Mordred snorted at his stupid bravery.

"My lord," he said with a bow. It didn't take much for Mordred to know it was Lucius Malfoy that stepped forward. His voice was oily as only a politician could be. "What makes you think that it was one of your men who did this? No mark was used and no one has taken credit."

Mordred snorted at Malfoy's audacity.

"Then who would do something like this?" His tone was dangerous and the crowd around Mordred tensed then almost growled at the involuntary movement.

There was a small whimper at Lord Voldemort's feet. The rat, Wormtail, seemed to be shaking at the base of the dais. Malfoy spared the man a glance as if trying to formulate a response.

"It could be other Muggles. Muggles that are at war with the government. It has happened in the past," Malfoy said.

Mordred had to hand it to the man. He was skilled.

Lord Voldemort seemed to relax and his mouth attempted to form a smile. Terrifying. "Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps. Lucius, investigate this. Make sure if was the Muggles. And if it wasn't, find the traitor."

Malfoy bowed in acceptance of the assignment and Mordred breathed a sigh of relief. The chances of a man like Malfoy figuring out the magic he used was laughable. His hand twitched for the wand in his pocket and he let out a low growl, startling a few Death Eaters that stood around him.

He had to find the damn ritual. He had to have complete control of this body and if it meant forcing the original soul on? Then so be it. Until he found it he had two people to contend with him and his plans and he had to quell them both.

Sensing a dismissal coming, Mordred turned on the spot and made to leave.

"Mr. Ambrose."

Mordred stopped short and his heart jumped in his chest at the name, a reaction still not his own. He turned and face the Dark Lord and bowed. "My Lord."

"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Of course, My Lord," he said with another bow. "Now?"

"Yes," he said and Mordred tried not to sneer. "My study."

Mordred bowed again. "After you, My Lord."

Mordred stamped down the revulsion of the subservient guise he had to employ. His fingers itched with the desire to kill the man on the spot, but he was still useful. And Mordred needed time. Time to find Merlin before he was reunited with his king and kill him. Until then, he needed to blend in. Until then... well, Mordred wasn't sure if he would make it without killing anyone important.

***MC***MC***MC***

Merlin looked up at the rustling of leaves surrounding his camp. He reached for his blade, which he was finally proficient in thanks to Godric, and let his magic simmer underneath his skin.

Another rustle and Merlin shot to his feet thankful that his fire was between him and the possible threat. The thought did cross his mind that Arthur would have mocked him relentlessly if the rustling end up being a rabbit or some other small woodland creature.

Another rustle and Merlin's grip tightened on the handle of his sword, bracing for anything. Then again, nothing could have prepared him for the familiar face that appeared from behind the brush.

"Sir Leon?" Merlin asked incredulously.

"Merlin!" Leon said, his voice light and full of happiness. He walked around the fire and pulled the surprised sorcerer into a hug. Merlin was too shocked to even return it, but it didn't stop the knight. "Who would have thought?"

Merlin let the blade drop. "Morgana sent you, didn't she?"

"Sent me?" Leon laughed. "Not at all! Can't old friends just meet up randomly in a remote forest centuries after last seeing each other?"

Merlin snorted. "You went to her asking about me then?"

Leon plopped down in front of the fire and helped himself to a bit of the pheasant Merlin was roasting over the flames. "More or less," he said licking at his fingers.

"Okay..." he drew out the word still confused. "Why?"

Leon looked up at him with worry and a fair bit of sorrow.

"Ah, yes..." Merlin trailed off. He let himself settle across from Leon and picked at the meat.

"Us immortals should stick together," Leon said. "Especially on days like this."

The plane jostled underneath him and Merlin jolted awake against the window. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as around him his fellow passengers were preparing for landing. He gathered his rubbish up into the small plastic cup and pushed his tray table into the upright position, waiting for the helpful flight attendant to walk by with a bag for it. Merlin smiled tiredly at him as he walked by and thanked him for the rubbish pick up before settling back into his seat for the descent.

It wasn't the first time he's dreamed of his friends, any of them. But Morgana and Leon were ones he could actually see in person. He smiled. He could finally, finally add Arthur to that list.

First, he had to make it to the ground. As a rule, Merlin wasn't a nervous flier. He was among the first to try the new invention when commercial planes began to be a thing. But that didn't mean that take off and landing were at all comfortable. When they were safely at the gate and the seat belt sign had turned off Merlin stood and pulled his knapsack out from underneath the seat and then his carry-on from the overhead before making his way to the terminal and the airport proper.

It felt weird being back on Albionian soil. His magic was singing and dancing underneath his skin at being back on home earth, though he wasn't sure if anyone would really notice in the midmorning light. Not there was much of it from the overcast skies and the rain that beat steadily against the windows.

Merlin tried to be cheerful in the long customs line and offered a smile to the tired looking officer. "Thank you," he murmured as the man stamped his passport and sent him on his way. And if there was a light notice-not charm on the blank book, the Ministry would be none-the-wiser, much less the non-magical government.

Merlin watched the crowd as he weaved in and out with his bag in tow. He wasn't sure if either Leon or Morgana got his message, but he hoped he didn't have to brave any sort of public transportation. Being surrounded by so many people set him and his magic on edge and made him incredibly uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to give up hope, he saw Leon standing at he edge of the waiting crowd with a handwritten sign with the name 'M. Emrys' scrolled across the page.

"Subtle," he said with a smile and a nod at the sign.

Leon laughed. "I thought so." He motioned to Merlin's bags which he handed over gratefully. "How was your flight?"

"Well enough," Merlin said. "It helps that I can afford first class."

Leon laughed. "That is a perk of our long lives."

"Just so," Merlin said following Leon out into the parking lot where they loaded his bags into Leon's sensible sedan and made their way to his London flat.

"Have you heard from Morgana at all?" Merlin asked.

"I haven't," Leon said. "Not for a while and when I called her neighbor, she said Morgan got a teaching gig up north and closed up her house a few months."

"Did she say where?"

"Not as such, but she did say they had spotty phone service up there and if she had to get in touch to call a pub and Morgana would get back to her."

Merlin let his head fall back against the headrest and sighed. "Then chances are she's already at the lake and has been for months."

"So it's true," Leon said, his voice hopeful. "He's back."

Merlin smiled. "Magic sang me awake Yule morning."

"Then it would also explain what happened yesterday." Leon seemed hesitant and Merlin looked at him sharply.

"What happened?"

Leon gestured to the folded paper sitting on the dashboard and Merlin picked up with some trepidation. Splashed across the front page were pictures of a destroyed Parliament building with Big Ben standing tall in stark contrast to the destruction. Merlin could see Leon's eyebrows go up in surprise at the rather creative swears that tumbled from his mouth.

"No one has taken credit as far as anyone can tell and not even the Queen has released a statement about what happened. People are freaking out about it all."

"Not knowing what is going on will do that. I'm almost surprised I was able to get into the country after something like that," Merlin said folding the paper up and stashing it in his bag. "Have you gotten anything from your contacts?"

"Unfortunately, no," Leon said. Long lives offer great opportunities to serve and Leon had cultivated several well placed contacts and relationships among the various intelligence agencies. "They had no warning and frankly at a loss as to what actually caused the explosion."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.

"There were no bomb materials found. There was no accelerant and there was no evidence of any sort of gas leak. According to authorities, the explosion never should have happened to begin with. To us," he gestured to the two of them, "there can only be one explanation and if we took it to the authorities, we would be laughed out of the building."

"Magic," Merlin supplied.

Leon looked at him wryly. "Exactly."

"But that could only be this Voldemort character and my contacts tell me that he hasn't been active in months," Merlin said.

"Mine say the same," Leon agreed. "So third party? A new party?"

"Or a really old one," Merlin said thinking about what happened on Samhain. "I just hope I'm wrong."

The rest of the ride was silent as the two old friends contemplated the possibilities. Leon pulled into his complex's parking garage — "Another perk." Merlin laughed. — and led Merlin up to his flat. It was modest and frankly cozy and Merlin felt himself relax at the feeling.

"I have the guest room made up considering your jet lag, plus I don't know when you wanted to set out for the lake." Leon trailed off as Merlin drifted to the window to take in the view of the city below.

"There's a few things I have to take care of before heading north, but I would like to be there before New Year's," Merlin said.

"Right," Leon said. "Then I will order us some take away and we can start planning. How does pizza sound?"

"Perfect," Merlin said almost absent-mindedly as he watched a small break in the clouds and the sunlight streamed down until it was once again swallowed by the clouds. He wondered for a brief moment what Arthur was doing and if his Chosen was instrumental in returning the Sunlight to Albion.

Behind him, Leon mentioned that their food would arrive in a half hour and he turned away from the window to unpack and and to get some sort of rest for what was coming.

***MC***MC***MC***

The next morning Merlin found himself looking up at the white marble structure that was Gringotts bank. Around him, people were milling about still deep in the holiday spirit, even despite the attack in London and the threat that was the supposed Dark Lord Voldemort hanging over their heads.

Then again, the wizarding world was always good at ignoring what was right in front of their faces. Merlin always lamented how cut off they were from the wider world. There was just cause, of course, but they were at a deficit if they were ever discovered.

Merlin squared his shoulders in resolve and he marched up the stairs and into the bank proper. There was a definitive shift in the air as soon as the goblins noticed who entered the bank, even the guards stood a little straighter. Despite the early hour, the foyer was full of patrons and they looked less than pleased at being interrupted, yet after a tense moment, business resumed and a stout goblin moved forward to him with a sneer.

"Master Emrys," he greeted, grumpily and with a toothy smile that was more like a smirk and Merlin smiled back.

"Oh, please, Rutnuck," he said. "I know you actually like me."

"For a wizard," he said gruffly before motioning for Merlin to follow him down a hall and into his office.

The office was neat and tidy and Merlin let out a sigh of relief as he felt the Goblin made wards slide into place.

Rutnuck was watching him with a smirk. "Even when the wizards have no idea who you are, they feel your power and know you are different," he said.

"And in wizarding Britain, different is dangerous," Merlin said. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was a unit of Aurors waiting for me when I leave."

Rutnuck snorted. "Then they are idiots."

Merlin smiled. "In more ways than one."

Rutnuck nodded. "So what can the goblins do for you today, Master Emrys?"

Merlin took a steadying breath. "I need to know if the trunk is gone."

There was no confusion in the goblin's eyes and Merlin knew the nation had kept their word. He nodded and slid from his seat to exit through the door behind the desk. Through the wood, Merlin heard some garbled Gobbledegook, too low for him to understand. Rutnuck returned with a roll of parchment and perused it for a moment before looking up.

"The truck disappeared from the Chosen's vault November the third, nineteen-eighty-one. It was opened July the twenty-ninth, nineteen-ninety-six."

Merlin tensed. Five months. Well, nearly five months for his Chosen to figure out how to open the way to Avalon. Or rather, Avalon for tired of waiting and shoved the knowledge into his Chosen's head.

"Any indication of who my Chosen is?"

Merlin had an idea, but he need to be sure. And if it was who he was thinking of, he monumentally failed the poor boy in a way that he wasn't sure if he wanted to be forgiven for, even when he fought for him and eventually lost. If the reports he received were any indication. From the grim look on Rutnuck's face, he was right.

"The Potter family only has one heir. That of Harry James Potter."

Merlin let his chin fall to his chest with a sigh then looked up at the goblin feeling defeated. "Well, shit."