Sorry it's a day later than usual, I went to go see Wicked with my family yesterday (it was amazing) and didn't get back until very late. But it's here, now! Enjoy!

Chapter Six: Desperate Times

"But how could you possibly be responsible?" Gaius asked, looking at his assistant in confusion.

"Well, it makes sense," Merlin explained. "I woke up really early this morning because my magic was pulling me, telling me to―"

"Wait," Harry stopped him. "Your magic was what?"

"Pulling me," Merlin repeated, "And telling me to go to this one spot in the woods― the same spot you described, near to the road with a large moss-covered stone."

"But what does this have to do with you being the reason for me and Draco being here?"

"I'm getting to that… I thought it was the Druids calling to me. They've done that before, and this felt nearly the same. But when I got there, there was no one there, so I used a spell to try to summon them."

"That could have been dangerous, Merlin," Gaius berated him. "What spell did you use exactly?"

"Uh… it was ic ceallian seo manes hwa me agan beurfan," the sorcerer replied; the old words sent a shiver down Harry's spine upon hearing them. Gaius, however, raised one brow.

"And you're certain these were the exact words you used?" the old man asked.

"I'm almost positive," Merlin assured him.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, "It doesn't sound like any words we use for magic."

"It's―" Merlin began, only for Gaius to cut him off.

"'I call to the ones who have need of me'," the physician intoned. "This may explain something…"

"But how could that have brought us through time?" Harry asked, looking just as perplexed as Merlin was.

"Well, apparently at the moment of time from which you were taken, you and Draco had a true need of Merlin. And his magic was strong enough to make that happen."

"I guess I didn't really phrase that the best way…" Merlin mumbled.

"You made that up on the spot?" Gaius asked him.

"Well, it was really early in the morning…"

Gaius rubbed his forehead, looking like he had a headache. "Regardless, now that we know what brought Harry and Draco here, we've got to figure out a way to get them home. It could take a while."

Harry brow wrinkled together. "Why does magic always have to be so complicated?" he sighed.

"What do you mean no magic?" Draco hissed dangerously, his voice filled with acid as only a Slytherin's could be.

"I mean exactly that," Harry replied, "No magic here. At all. You heard the way Uther spoke of sorcerers, right?"

"Yes," Draco sniffed, "I figured he was just jealous because he's a muggle. But to have banned it entirely?"

"That's what Merlin and Gaius said. Uther hates magic."

"Great. Next you'll be telling me that Merlin doesn't know how to get us home!"

"Well, that was kind of the other thing I had to tell you…"

Draco stared at Harry disbelievingly, before flopping back onto the large, luxurious bed he'd been given. Harry had come to his room, led by a servant, to tell him this horrible news. Perhaps, if he ignored the medieval smell, he could tolerate being in Camelot. But now he was learning that he was going to have to live without magic? Like a muggle!

"Uther beheads any found guilty of practicing magic," Harry explained.

"You're the one who was found out so quickly…"

"Yes, but I was lucky that it was just Merlin and Gaius."

"What about Merlin?" Draco asked, tilting his head up to look at the annoying Gryffindor in his presence. "How is it that he's still around if the king hates magic so much?"

"Uther doesn't know."

There was a pause, in which Draco appeared to be thinking.

"So no magic?" he asked.

"No magic."

"None at all?"

"None."

"Are you sure―?"

"Draco!"

Draco stopped talking, glaring at the Potter boy― but not pouting, that'd be ridiculous. No magic. None at all. Absolutely nothing to distinguish him from the common muggles around him. How would he survive? He let his head flop back on the pillowed surface.

"I'm dead…" he moaned, with just the right amount of melodrama.

Harry thanked Merlin for Gaius― in the worship, take-His-name-in-vain sense, not in the sense of physically thanking the person he'd just met. Though, in retrospect, he supposed he should just thank Gaius and eliminate the middleman. And so he did so profusely.

The old physician had decided that it would be better if Harry spent his nights with him and Merlin, rather than in the servants' quarters. Merlin didn't mind sharing, though his room was very small. He was more than eager to stay up listening to Harry tell him what the future of magic would be like. So Harry slept on a pile of hay covered in several blankets. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but Harry supposed he could live with it. If only to prove Draco and his must-by-comfortable-at-all-times-or-I'll-die attitude wrong.

Bright and early the next morning, Merlin finished mucking out Arthur's stables (for the fourth time that week) and joined the prince at his training area, helping him into his mail when he got there.

"I wonder," he thought aloud, slashing at a wooden dummy, "Do you suppose that Draco fellow wishes to be a knight?" He pretended to parry a blow from the dummy's inanimate wooden sword, then ran around the back of it for another slash.

"He didn't really seem like the type," Merlin said neutrally. What he meant was, 'he'd never pick up a sword in a thousand years', but he didn't say this.

Arthur laughed a bit. "I suppose you're right," he conceded, spinning to hit the dummy in what would be the neck, had it still been vaguely man-shaped (the edges were fairly shredded from the repeated abuse Arthur rained upon it). It was quiet for a while, with only the sound of Arthur's 'fight' to fill the air. "Do you think we can trust this Draco and his manservant?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, I don't see any reason not to," Merlin replied, getting a bit nervous.

"Yes, well," continued Arthur, "I suppose it's a good thing, then, that Cepheus Black is coming for a visit. Just to be sure."

"O-oh?" Merlin knew what that could mean if the man said that he didn't recognize Draco or Harry. "Yes, I suppose that is good…"

The first chance he got― when Arthur tired of beating up the dummy and sent Merlin to fetch his horse― Merlin broke off at a run to tell the two visiting wizards what Arthur had told him about Cepheus Black. He needed to warn them, and fast.

Merlin breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw that the two boys had made it in time to intercept the head of the Black family as he rode into the courtyard of the castle, followed by several attendants. But Arthur was waiting for him to return to his chambers to help him dress for the reception of the old friend of the king. Honestly, how many times would he have to wonder if Arthur were really capable of dressing himself before it became a reality?

Cepheus Black was a bit surprised to see an unfamiliar blond teenager stride up to him with a sense of self importance. This wasn't Uther's son, Arthur; he was sure of it. Even more so when the boy addressed him.

"Welcome, Grandfather," the pale boy said. "I suppose you're surprised to see me here." Cepheus watched him with stone-cold eyes for a few seconds, studying. Then he decided to play along for the moment; the boy seemed to be of noble blood.

"Indeed," he replied, his face and voice both void of expression― until he raised one eyebrow. "Though it seems to be a matter for a less… open venue?"

The blond nodded, and Cepheus waved at his attendants to take care of his horses. He then walked along with the pale boy and the dark-haired boy who tagged along beside him to an area around the corner that was out of the way of prying eyes and tuned-in ears.

"You have thirty seconds to tell me what you want," Cepheus declared.

"I need you to pretend to be my grandfather," Draco explained quickly to the old man. "I know that sounds odd, or like I'm trying to extort money or power from you or something, but that isn't why. You may not know me, but I am your relative." The stern old man watched as he withdrew the necklace with the Black family crest hanging from it. Harry noted that Cepheus had one as well― perhaps the same one, if that were possible― resting on his chest. "I am your great grandson, many, many degrees down through the generations."

"Time travel?" the man asked, his voice having a smugly amused tinge, as if he'd entertained the idea. Draco nodded.

"It sounds crazy, I know. You'll be happy to hear we're still pure of blood, though. Only magical blood runs through my veins." Cepheus looked rather proud, but it just made Harry vaguely sick to hear Draco talk that way. "But I'm sure you want our family to continue past just me. Being beheaded for lying to King Uther really would put a damper on that notion." Cepheus seemed to be considering it.

"All right," he finally agreed, "I'll tell Uther you are my grandson." Before Draco and Harry could even take a breath of relief, Cepheus continued. "However, there is one thing you must do for me…"

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