A/N: I'm back! :) Kudos if you're still sticking with this story! I know, my record for updating is appalling.
Harry could feel the magic all around him, the very woods were pulsating with it, and his heart raced and he felt rejuvenated all of a sudden, the further his horse carried him. He was riding behind Merlin, and so could not see his face, but judging from the looks on Malfoy and Ron's faces who were on either side of him, they felt the growing magic as well. It was almost stifling, yet joyous too. It was the same feeling he'd had in the Department of Mysteries in the Veil Room. It was pure magic.
Ron glanced at him, and, with difficulty, brought his horse closer to Harry's.
"D'you reckon we can trust this bloke?" he whispered, nodding to the bald man they were following, who Harry assumed was a Druid.
"Mer- Malcolm, trusts him," said Harry, stopping himself just in time, in case he was listening. "So should we."
Ron looked dubious. "He didn't seem all that friendly."
"Malcolm says Druids never were," pointed out Harry. "He had plenty chances to kill us if he wanted, I say we trust him."
"And what are we going to do when we get there?" asked Malfoy, who'd also brought his horse closer, forgetting in his curiosity the sullen silence he'd been practicing all day. "Will they trust us?"
"Malcolm will get them to trust us," said Harry, more confidently than he felt. "We're not their enemy; we don't want to hurt them, and I don't think they'll want to hurt us either. We're not in danger."
"But they might not give us what we want," said Malfoy. "We could have come all this way for nothing. If we don't get it from them willingly, then …"
Harry knew what he was thinking, and he had been thinking it too. Who was to say the Druids would help them? And if they didn't, would they have to take the spell by force? Somehow, as powerful as Merlin was, he didn't think the seven of them would stand a chance against the entire might of the Old Religion.
"We should just focus on getting there first," he said. "That's all we can do for now. Remember what that bloke said: we've got all the time in the world."
They both nodded, and turned away, focused once more on following Merlin. But despite what he had said, Harry still felt uneasy. Despite knowing there was no rush, and his uncle and all the other dead and dying Muggles hadn't even been born yet, he still felt a sense of urgency so great it was taking all his effort to rein it in. He was impatient, and restless; every second counted to him. He had to keep reminding himself that it didn't matter how long he took. But it was difficult.
Gradually, as the sense of magic in the air increased so much Harry felt he could almost taste it, the path opened out, and suddenly, they found themselves on the shores of a great lake, and the sight before them took their breath away. Hermione gasped behind him, and Harry himself couldn't take his eyes away from the sight before him.
On an island in the centre of the lake, stood a magnificent castle, larger even than Hogwarts, with gleaming turrets and strong walls, with towers that stretched up into the sky. A thin mist swirled around the tops of the towers and the surface of the lake, making it look as though the castle was nestled between the clouds themselves. It seemed to shine brightly, a beacon of magic, and Harry felt his soul soar at the sight of it.
"Wow," said Ron, mouth agape.
"It's incredible," said Hermione, her eyes wide as she took it all in.
"Makes a change," said Malfoy, staring. He dropped his voice. "Last time I was here it was a pile of old bricks."
"You were here before?" Harry asked him, frowning. "When?"
Malfoy glanced towards the Druid before answering. "When me, Merlin and the Weasley twins were searching for the Cup. Merlin brought us here. Even though it was a ruin, it still had powerful magic, stronger than anything I'd ever felt. But this … it's even more incredible than I thought possible."
Harry stared back at the towers. "The Cup of Life will be in there, won't it?" he said softly. "That's so weird."
"Don't go talking about that here," said Merlin, who'd turned to them abruptly, motioning towards the Druid, who was already walking towards the water edge. "The Cup is a great secret amongst the Druids. They won't trust us if you don't mind what you're saying and blurt out all their greatest secrets."
"It's so beautiful," said Luna, whose eyes were aglow. "Did you ever get to see it like this?"
Merlin glanced at her, and then turned back to the gleaming island. "No," he said softly, before turning away. "By the time I'm born, all that's left here is rubble." He sighed. "Uther destroyed so much beauty in such a short space of time. I'm just sorry I'm not able to appreciate it under better circumstances."
"You can appreciate it now," said Luna. "It's here for you to enjoy."
Merlin shook his head, and looked upset. "I'm here for the spell, that's all. I don't have time for all of this."
He dismounted his horse, and began walking over to the Druid. Harry wondered whether he wasn't the only one feeling impatient about getting back to the present. How much worse would it be for Merlin to be surrounded by reminders of his past, the life he once had, or might have had?
Harry and the others got off their horses as well, and followed Merlin, who was now standing with the Druid, and a man so ancient and wrinkled Harry was surprised he could stand at all. The man was standing with his hand resting on a tiny boat.
"Leave your horses here," said Nechtan, the Druid. "They shall graze on the shores and will not wander far. Now come, the ferryman shall escort us across the lake."
The man leered at them and gestured for them to enter. Malfoy and Merlin got in straight away, apparently both having done this before, but the others were hesitant.
"You sure that thing can hold us?" Ron asked, and Harry agreed; the boat looked like one good wind would blow it right over.
Nechtan just raised his eyebrows and climbed in, followed promptly by Luna, who did not look disturbed in the slightest. The others followed suit, and with a flash of the ferryman's eyes, the boat was off, apparently without the need for sail or oar.
Steadily, they drew nearer and nearer to the island, as the daylight began to fade, and lights sprung up in the windows of the castle. Harry could feel the magic rising so dramatically inside of him, he felt he could burst.
He looked towards Merlin, and saw a similar state reflected in his eyes. He looked almost excited about what he saw, but also saddened.
After darkness had entirely fallen, the boat bumped up against a wooden jetty, and Nechtan motioned for them all to get out. Harry did so, and immediately fell magic shudder through him as his foot hit solid ground. A hush seemed to surround them all in reverent silence.
The ferryman pushed off from the jetty as soon as they'd climbed out and was soon swallowed up by the darkness. Nechtan led them to the end of the jetty, towards a path that would lead them up to the castle itself, but they stopped, and waited. Looking ahead, Harry saw a light in the distance bobbing towards them from the dark mist. Within moments, the light was upon them.
Two men in dark robes with the emblem of a red tree on it were standing there, one carrying a lantern above their heads. Between these two men stood a tall women with dark hair and a red dress. Harry knew the moment he looked at her that she was a High Priestess.
She radiated power in the same way Merlin did, and her face was expressionless, but seemed to mask a great wisdom, and a great many years. She surveyed them all with pale eyes, lingering lastly on Merlin, and a small smile crept at her lips when she beheld him. He stared back evenly, the only one of the company who had been able to keep her gaze for more than a couple of seconds.
"I am Melian,"she said, in a voice that was deep and filled with age, her eyes still fixed on Merlin. "I am one of the High Priestesses of this Isle."
Merlin bowed his head to her, though kept his eyes on hers the entire time. "I am humbled indeed," he said. "I did not expect such an honour."
"We seldom allow unknown pilgrims to venture to this island as once we did," Melian said, her eyes still on his. "I thought it worthy of my time to see who Nechtan had allowed to pass. These are dangerous times, and we do not trust outsiders."
Merlin frowned a little at this. She stared a little longer at him, before holding out her pale arms in welcome.
"You are welcome amongst us, strangers," she said. "This island is our sanctuary. Rest here and delight in the company of your fellow kind, learn new wisdom, new spells, take pleasure in the magic that you find here. The phoenix," here, her eyes landed on Fawkes, "is one of our most revered creatures, and those he deems worthy of his company, are certainly worthy of mine."
Fawkes seemed to nod his head, and Merlin glanced at him a second, before looking back to Melian. She looked around at them all one last time, lingering on Harry, who froze when she looked at him.
"There is powerful magic amongst you," she said. "I look forward to seeing what you are capable of." She glanced to one of her guards. "Take them to the eastern wing, there are empty guest accommodation there. You are free to roam the island as you choose, save for the inner sanctum, where the most sacred of our possessions lie."
"I would appreciate a chance to meet with yourself and the other High Priests and Priestesses," Merlin said, just as she looked like she was about to leave. "I have … matters to discuss."
"Matters?" she repeated. "Then you are not simple pilgrims? I thought as much." She surveyed him for a moment longer. "I shall consider such a meeting, when I have deemed you and your companions ready."
"But, it's urgent that we make this request-"
"Urgent?" she smiled. "What matter of urgency could there be? Patience in all things, my young friend. No one is granted an audience with the Council unless they have proven themselves. When you are ready, you shall make your request of us."
"But-" objected Merlin, but Melian had already turned, and was walking back to the castle, one guard at her side, the other one remaining with Harry and the others. Nechtan had already followed Melian up the path.
"Come," the guard said, and reluctantly, Merlin nodded, and indicated the others should follow. The guard led them further towards the dark castle, in a night that was silent, yet filled with magic so strong Harry could almost hear it whispering to him.
Harry sidled closer to Merlin. "D'you reckon-"
Merlin shook his head, and pointed to the guard. "The Blood Guard serve the High Priestesses, and are their ears," he whispered. "Save what you have to say until we are alone."
Harry nodded, and fell back to the others, who were all looking around nervously. Ginny found her way to his side and clasped his hand, which made him feel slightly better; the castle, though filled with the incredible magic that he loved, intimidated him. Unlike the friendly, welcoming magic of Hogwarts, this place made him uneasy; its ancient magic was neither good, nor hostile, and the sheer force of it disturbed him.
Within moments, they were led through a magnificent set of gates, and into a small courtyard, the corners of which were obscured in the darkness. Their guard led them up a staircase to their left, and through a maze of dark stone corridors. Whispers seemed to resonate throughout the halls, as though the magic was calling out, and everywhere, magical presences of individuals stood out like bright beacons behind closed doors.
They passed down another corridor, which had a balcony opening out onto another courtyard, blackness all that they could see beyond. A great rumbling sound came from the courtyard, and the place seemed to shake a little, a quiet roar like some great sleeping beast, along with the strongest magical presence yet. Harry tried to look over the balcony to see what was below, but was prevented by the guard turning down another corridor and up a narrower staircase.
When it levelled out, they found themselves on a small landing with two doors leading off of it. The guard stopped and pointed.
"Men in that one, ladies in there," he said gruffly. "Do not wander the corridors at night, no abuse of magic, respect the priests and priestesses and other magical users and do not leave the island without permission. Betray the trust of the High Priestess Melian under pain of death. Good night."
And without another word, he'd vanished down the staircase.
"Friendly bloke," observed Ron, but no one paid any attention. They all looked to Merlin.
"Now what," asked Ginny, "we're here, but how do we get the audience with this Council?"
"I don't know," said Merlin, and he looked disturbed. "I suppose … we'd better earn their trust."
"Easier said than done," said Malfoy, staring at the staircase the guard had just gone down.
Merlin sighed. "Just … act normal," he said. "Don't let them suspect anything, don't betray anything. Meet the Druids and the others here, practice some magic, look like you're settling in. Hopefully, after a while, they'll let us see the Council."
"And if they don't?"
"They will," said Luna, and she smiled at Merlin. "Don't worry about it. They'll see the goodness in your heart, Merlin. They will trust us. We have all the time in the world."
Merlin offered a weak smile. "I hope so. Now, we'd best get some rest. We've got some work to do tomorrow."
Harry awoke the next day to find sunlight streaming in through a small slit like window in the room he was sharing with Merlin, Malfoy and Ron. He struggled out of his uncomfortable straw mattress and went over to the window to look outside. The limited view showed him a sliver of the lake, and the mist that still surrounded it, penetrated only on occasion by the sunshine that had already faded away.
He turned and saw that Merlin was still asleep; an unusual occurrence as Merlin was always the first to rise and leave the room. He watched him for a moment, noticing how fitfully he was sleeping, a small frown on his face, the bedclothes showing how he'd been evidently twisting and turning.
Harry turned away and went to the washstand and splashed some water on his face and then pulled on his tatty boots and cloak, before going back to sit on his bed, waiting for the others to awaken; despite his curiosity, he knew it would not be a good idea to wander around the Isle of the Blessed on his own, and he was far too restless to go back to sleep. He stared at the window on the far side of the room, wishing it was larger, so he did not feel so trapped. All he wanted was to get the spell, and get out of here, but he knew he would have to try and be patient. The future wasn't going anywhere.
An hour passed, and Ron struggled out from underneath his thin blanket. He sat up and grimaced.
"I could never live in this century," he complained, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll never complain of being poor again. The Burrow is luxury compared to this."
At that moment there was a soft tapping at the door, and it opened, to reveal Ginny, Luna and Hermione, who filed in and sat themselves on Harry and Ron's beds, after Ron had leapt from his and tried to look presentable at the sight of Hermione. Malfoy too woke up, bleary-eyed and began to pull on his own boots.
Merlin woke then, with a gasp and sat up with a jerk, breathing heavily. He looked surprised to see the girls in the room.
"Sleeping in isn't like you, Merlin," said Luna casually, playing with the hem of Harry's blanket. "Aren't you well?"
"I'm fine," said Merlin, and swung his legs out of bed, and smoothed down his rumpled hair. But he didn't look it. There were heavy shadows under his eyes and he looked drawn and pale.
"Well, are we going to go downstairs and have a look around?" asked Hermione. "I'd love to see some more Old Magic."
"I'd love to see the kitchen," said Ron, his stomach growling. "When was the last time we ate?"
"Trust you to think of your stomach when we're on the Isle of the Blessed."
"I'm hungry!"
"Come on," said Merlin, interrupting them, having got himself ready while this was going on. "We'd best go."
No one objected, and everyone soon followed him out of the door and down the steps and through some corridors. Since the mist loomed at every window, the place looked hardly less oppressive in the daylight, but at least they were able to see now. Harry expected to pass the courtyard with the great magical presence once more, but Merlin led them a different route.
"If I remember," he said, "there's a hall down this way that used to be used for feasting, at least, it was when the place was ruined and me and other refugees lived here after Arthur's death. There's a chance we may find some food down this way."
A few moments later, they'd emerged into a wide hall, smaller than the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but still large enough for some hundred or so people. About fifty were already in the room, seated at one long shiny wooden table that went down the centre. They looked up for a moment when Harry and the others entered, but soon went back to their meals, uninterested.
Merlin led them to an empty part of the table near the end, where they sat down, and immediately fell upon the bread and fruits that lay before them, through Harry noticed, Merlin barely touched any of it. He had his eyes on the other men and women at the table, though most of them seemed happy to ignore him, and stayed in their clusters and their own conversations. They didn't look happy, and they didn't look sad, just solemn and formal, which seemed at odds with the bursting magical energy in the room.
"You're new," said a voice, and they all looked up to see a Druid standing in front of them. Unlike most of the others, he looked young, and he had a smile on his face.
"I'm Malcolm," said Merlin, nodding to him, "and these are my companions. We arrived last night."
"I am Cenric," said the Druid, and he looked intrigued. "New visitors are very rare on the Isle these days. You must have done something very special to convince Nechtan to allow you to pass."
"Apparently," said Merlin.
Cenric was still smiling. "We all have our secrets, but I warn you, do not hold anything back from the High Council. They know everything, and shall discover it easily, and will not take kindly to being lied to."
"I'll bear that in mind," said Merlin. "What can you tell us about life here?"
The Druid laughed. "Life on the Isle of the Blessed … it is the very name, my friend. Life here is slow, and rich, and we are all fortunate indeed. The inner sanctum is the province of the High Council, where they undertake the mysteries of life, and the study of magic in its purest forms. The rest of the island is free for all, pilgrims, students, teachers, Druids, Dragonlords, princes … anyone. You may rest here, learn more magic if you so desire, everywhere is the chance to study and grow. You may do anything you like."
"Sounds idyllic," said Malfoy, with the tone of someone who evidently did not believe him, and the Druid's smile only increased.
"Oh, it is," Cenric gushed. "I have been here since I was a child, and I've never-"
"Thank you, Cenric," said another voice, and a Druid who looked far more forbidding than Cenric loomed up behind them, and looked down upon them all critically. Cenric bowed his head hurriedly and moved away, leaving the newcomer with them. He was old, with white hair and beard, with dark eyes that seemed like black pools in his face. The triple spiral tattoo that Harry had noticed on most of the Druids was just visible on his neck, partially hidden by his rich robes.
"I am High Priest Findan," he said, and Harry was immediately put on guard. He'd thought the High Council had wanted nothing to do with them?
He addressed Merlin solely. "The High Council has entrusted me with your situation here on the Isle of the Blessed. I am to be your liaison with them."
Merlin raised his eyebrows. "And does every sorcerer on this island get a personal liaison with the Council?"
"Not every sorcerer shows up out of the blue and asks for an audience with the High Council on the first night," said Findan. "Most are too afraid of the power of the High Council to ask for a meeting, and when they are offered a meeting, many are too afraid to turn up."
"I am not afraid," said Merlin.
"I can see that," said Findan, watching him closely. "That alone makes you unique. If you want a meeting with the High Council however, you must wait, and only when I tell you the time is right shall we allow you into our trust. In the meantime, I shall acquaint you with our life here. Perhaps by learning more about us, you shall finally be ready."
"And how will you know when we are ready?" asked Merlin, and Harry could hear the note of annoyance in his tone.
"It is not I who decides if you are ready," said Findan, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It is the Old Religion. It shall tell me when you are ready."
Merlin looked briefly annoyed, but seemed to accept it. Findan nodded approvingly.
"Patience, Master Malcolm," he said, "is something you need to learn. I fear it is something you have neglected recently."
Merlin winced, and Harry knew he was thinking of his impatience to end the Statute of Secrecy. But what did the Druid know about that?
Findan looked away from Merlin. "I shall show you around the Isle, if you have all finished eating," he said, and everyone immediately stood up, impatient to see more of the island. Merlin hesitated only for the briefest of moments before following.
Harry and the others followed suit, and soon they were all walking behind Findan, none of them speaking, as though afraid to in his presence. He led them through many corridors, some decorated with rich tapestries and statues. Roaring fires glowed at regular intervals, and everywhere there was a scent in the air of herbs and exotic spices, smells far more appealing than Snape's potion storage cupboard at Hogwarts had been, and everywhere, magic could almost be tasted.
Findan's face was expressionless as he walked, but Harry was agape at the sheer power he could sense in the air. Malfoy, Ron and Luna were equally as wowed, and Hermione and Ginny, despite not being as in tune with Old Magic as the others, also looked as though they could sense it. They passed rooms with voices issuing from them; uttering babbling incantations and long winded spells, chants of students learning by rote, stern voices of teachers, eager voices of children. Occasionally, a Druid or two would pass them, and bow their head to Findan staring in awe at Fawkes, who seemed to puff up his chest importantly whenever this happened. Druids came out of rooms and casually walked to the next, wandering through archways, greeting friends. Harry caught a glimpse or two of the teaching rooms before doors shut. It was almost like Hogwarts, but informal. There were no desks, no strict discipline. Students sat on the floor in groups, or around bubbling fires, some in mismatched chairs strewn carelessly across the room, whilst the teachers strolled casually among them. Once a student had had their fill, they simply stood up and moved to another room, where other things were going on. It was a place of education, but it was no school.
They passed through rooms that were almost like common rooms, with people lounging on comfortable chairs before fires, discussing magic and potions, sharing spells and healing remedies. Parents played with children, and elderly men and women relaxed before the fire, students studied books in peaceful solitude.
Findan began a somewhat laboured commentary as they progressed through the castle, pointing out study rooms, classrooms, halls for eating, studying or relaxing. He pointed out the window to a stretch of cultivated land by the castle wall where they grew most of their own food and herbs, a Druid or two just visible pottering about the vegetable patches.
After a while, they reached a room that Harry thought Hermione would explode in happiness at seeing; the library. The room was huge, twice the size of the Hogwarts library, with a ceiling so high Harry had to crane his neck to see. The room was filled with piles upon piles of musty thick volumes, and piles of loose sheaves of parchment. Lanterns floated above desks where scholars pored over the illustrated manuscripts before them, noses almost touching the pages, pages that looked fresh and crisp, unlike the fragile pages spotted with age Harry was accustomed to seeing from books of this era, the colours in the book bright and as vibrant as if they were brand new, which, Harry reminded himself, they may very well be. There must have been thousands of books in that room, and Harry noticed that even Ron, hardly the world's greatest reader, couldn't help but be impressed.
As he stared though, Harry was hit with a sudden twinge of sadness as he remembered that in time, this entire place, this entire island would be ruined, and all the knowledge here would be lost, with only a fraction of it remaining in Merlin and Kilgharrah's memories. This place would be destroyed because of one man's personal vendetta, all of this would be gone. For the first time, Harry was hit by just how great a loss that actually was. Hearing Merlin talking about it was one thing, but to actually see the place at its height, see the people that lived here, the beauty and wisdom it contained hit him like a ton of bricks. The past was no longer the past, it was here, right here in front of him. And only he and six other people knew what was going to happen to it and the people that lived here.
"Have you looked your fill?" Fiindan asked, almost looking bored with the sight before him. "There are still some places I would show you."
The others nodded and turned to follow him once more, but Merlin hung back. He was looking hard at a manuscript that was lying open on the table before him. Harry moved over, and had a look, seeing a series of complicated diagrams and writing he could not decipher; Merlin's translation spell apparently only worked for spoken language. Merlin's eyes raced across the page as he read what was written, and he trailed his fingers over the diagram, looking troubled.
He noticed Harry standing there and straightened, looking embarrassed.
"Gaius had a book like that," he said, by way of explanation. "Exactly the same, in fact, it probably is the same book. He used to come here …"
Merlin looked away, and instead surveyed the room, a sadness in his eyes.
"It's weird to think all of this will be gone in a few decades or so," said Harry, looking around. "It seems so permanent, so eternal."
Merlin nodded. "It's strange," he murmured. "I've been here so many times before, but I've never actually been here before, if you know what I mean. I never got the chance to see this. All the knowledge I have of the Old Religion, it doesn't even compare to what's in this room alone. Most of this will be gone forever. It'll never be recaptured."
"Some of it will," said Harry, staring hard at him. "You're preserving it, Merlin. By restoring the Old Religion, we're preserving at least a little. That's what we're meant to do, right? Not restore peace between Muggles and wizards. We need to focus on bringing back what we can of the Old Religion and solving the problems we have, not creating new ones."
Merlin made no answer, just kept looking at the vaulted ceiling. Harry tried to curb his impatience; why couldn't he see? He was taking on too much. Why couldn't he just focus on one thing instead of trying to do everything all at once?
The answer was, Merlin was just not used to it. He was always looking to the future, always looking at the wider picture, the next big problem, he couldn't focus on what he already had.
"What are you two still doing back here?" Ginny asked, popping back into the doorway. "Findan isn't pleased you're missing out on his tour."
"We're coming," said Merlin, and walked pointedly out of the room, past Ginny, who frowned at Harry.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Reminders," he said, and she seemed to understand. They left the room and hurried to catch up with the others. Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand quickly and shot him a smile, which he immediately returned; he was letting himself get as melancholy as Merlin.
A few more twists and turns, and Findan stopped before a wooden door about the height of an average man, made of plain unadorned wood. He turned to them.
"This is the door to the Inner Sanctum," he said, his voice deep and serious. "There is the place where the High Priests and Priestesses conduct their most secret of affairs, studying the greatest mysteries of magic. None but they may enter, unless with express permission. It is most highly guarded."
"Highly guarded?" Malfoy asked sceptically. "Looks like a pretty shabby door to me."
Findan's eyebrows contracted in a quick frown, before he regained composure.
"If anyone who is not a Priest or Priestess touches this door, they are instantly incinerated by the force of the Old Religion within. Is that guarded enough for you?"
Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment.
"Wow," murmured Ginny. "You'd think they'd have sign up or something: 'Don't touch door unless you want to be swept up into a dustpan.'"
Findan appeared not to hear her. "It looks like any nondescript door," he said. "But great power resides within. Such is the case in all nature. Not everything is as it seems. The concealment of great power can be done easily with an unassuming façade, but the power always remains, no matter how it is concealed." Here, he looked between Harry and Merlin. "Can you not feel it?"
Harry did. It was like a great wave of energy was emanating from behind the door, like the Veil at the Department of Mysteries. It was so strong he almost feared the door itself would crumble into pieces.
"Come," said Findan, after they'd all fallen into reverent silence. "There is one last thing I must show you."
He led the way through more twists and turns, until Harry suddenly noticed they were heading in the direction of the courtyard they had passed on the balcony the night before. As soon as they stepped out into the courtyard, he immediately knew the source of the great rumbling and tremors he had experienced.
It was a dragon.
It was huge, curled up in the courtyard like a cat, larger than Aithusa, yet not so large as Kilgharrah, and unlike both of them, it was a vibrant green, deeper, more iridescent and more beautiful a shade of green than the Welsh Green Harry had seen in his fourth year, almost as if the Welsh Greens were a sub-standard copy of a greater ancestor. Its head was massive and was resting on the ground, smoke furling out of its nostrils, grey eyes the colour of the sea blinking lazily in the weak morning sun. Its legs were curled underneath it, with one hind leg sticking out at an uneven angle. In front of it stood one Druid who was moving her hands along its scales, chanting softly, whilst several younger Druids watched, some taking notes.
Harry didn't realise he'd stopped in amazement until he noticed Merlin suddenly jerk with surprise. Immediately, the dragon's head lifted and it looked straight at Merlin, silver eyes directed entirely on Merlin's. Then, as suddenly as it had raised its head, it bowed it again, a deep and reverent bow in Merlin's direction, before pulling back and regarding him expressionlessly.
"Greetings, my Lord," it said, in a voice that sounded female, though Harry wasn't entirely sure; it was a voice that was more melodious, more deep and beautiful than any of the other ancient dragons Harry had met. "Well met indeed. I welcome you home, my Lord."
At this, everyone turned to stare at Merlin, who stood there, apparently as shocked as everyone else. He could not take his eyes off the creature before him. A look of wonder tinged with sorrow crossed his face for a moment.
"Well met," he said finally, after recovering himself. "And who are you?"
The dragon seemed to regard him with a quizzical expression. "Have you no idea? I am the only green dragon that exists on this earth. Have you never heard my name?"
Merlin froze for a moment. "I haven't encountered many dragons in my time," he said. But then he frowned. "Wait … you're not … you're not Niamhrach?"
The dragon bowed her head again, and smiled, exposing ivory white pointed teeth.
"So you have heard of me?"
"I've read about you," Merlin said, his voice trailing off as he stared at her. "You … you're the one that seeks out young initiates for the priesthood. The one who trains them."
"Correct," the dragon, Niamhrach, said and she sounded pleased. "Though I have not done much searching of late. I am here only to recover from injury."
Merlin stared at her leg. "How did that happen?"
She stared at him with solemn eyes. "The world is not as embracing of magic as it once was, young Dragonlord. There are perils everywhere, even for those of us from the ancient race."
For a moment, Merlin looked angry, then confused. He stared at her injury, a thoughtful look on his face.
"An injury she would not have sustained had you Dragonlords been doing your jobs," the female Druid who had been doing the healing spells interjected. She stood scowling at Merlin, her arms folded, greying hair escaping from its bindings. "You are supposed to protect the dragons. I have been working on her for weeks with little progress. Dragons are notoriously difficult to injure, and equally as difficult to cure."
"A Dragonlord," said Findan, and he stared at Merlin almost gleefully, looking as though something had just been confirmed. He was almost grinning. "Interesting."
"Yes," said the female Druid. "It is. I thought you lot were dying off. Only four of the original tribes still exist, and I know every single Dragonlord amongst them. Unless one of them has a son they don't know about, I don't see where you could have come from."
Merlin was silent for a moment, and Harry's mind was racing. One of the Dragonlords did have a son they didn't know about, but how would they explain this? For that matter, had Balinor, Merlin's father even been born yet? Was there a Dragonlord wandering around on the Isle somewhere that was Merlin's grandfather, or great-grandfather?
Merlin remained calm however. "I come from far away," he said. "Where some of the descendants of the older tribes still remain. There are few dragons there also, and I have had little opportunity to practice my skills. My father died before he could teach me."
"And what was his name?" the Druid asked suspiciously.
Merlin blinked, and cast half a glance towards Harry. "Hagrid," he said, a small smile on his face, and Harry had to stop himself from laughing; how Hagrid would love to be a Dragonlord.
She frowned. "I know of no Hagrid." But she looked towards Niamhrach and nodded. "However, a Dragonlord you must be. And if Lady Niamrach trusts you …"
She looked back to Merlin. "Friend to dragons and phoenixes," she murmured. "You are an unusual one."
"That he is, Rhona," said Findan, a knowing look in his eyes. "That he is."
Merlin looked distinctly uncomfortable under all the scrutiny he was receiving, and oddly, the only one who noticed was the dragon.
"I shall look forward to further meetings, my Lord," Niamhrach said. "But what is your name?"
Merlin hesitated, and seemed to choke on his words.
"Malcolm," said Harry quickly. "His name's Malcolm."
"Malcolm," said the dragon, and she tilted her head on one side, regarding him with a look that plainly said she did not believe Harry for an instant. "Well met, Lord Malcolm. I must now allow Druid Rhona to resume her instruction of the young ones. I hope to see you again."
Merlin nodded, and, when Findan went over to talk to Rhona and the younger Druids who all bowed at his approach, he took this as a sign of dismissal and left hurriedly, following the path to their quarters as quickly as he could, everyone else following rapidly. He did not say a word until they reached the male quarters.
"Why didn't you tell her your name?" Ginny asked.
Merlin shrugged, and looked confused. "I don't know … I … I just couldn't lie to her. Physically, I couldn't do it."
"Why?" frowned Malfoy.
"I don't know," said Merlin. He looked thoughtful. "Maybe I'm not able to lie to dragons … I don't think I've ever tried it before. I've never wanted to. It … it seems so wrong. It made me feel sick, disgusted by myself. I never appreciated before how deep this kin thing went."
"That might pose a problem," said Harry. "Maybe you should stay away from her."
"That would just look suspicious," said Merlin, "and besides, I don't think I can. There's something about her, I get the feeling that she's old, even older than Kilgharrah, that she knows even more than he does. Like she's more connected with the Old Religion than any creature I've ever met before. I've felt it all day, something drawing me nearer until the call was almost too much to bear."
"I sort of felt it too," said Malfoy. "I mean, not the whole Dragonlord thing, but … like she's some sort of … I dunno-"
"Magnet," said Harry, nodding at the remembrance. "Like all my magic was being pulled towards her.
"She is remarkable," said Hermione. "It just makes me so sad to think that anyone could ever harm her. Or that in a few years she'll be-"
She broke off at the look on Merlin's face.
"-dead," finished Merlin with a sigh. He shook his head. "She was one of the oldest and wisest dragons there were, responsible for the teaching of magic right from the beginning, instructing the initiates for centuries; she was one of the pillars of our entire religion. She fought the longest, kept the Old Religion as alive as she could for as long as possible. She was the last dragon to be killed, not long before Kilgharrah was captured. Gaius always guessed it was her death that broke Kilgharrah's spirit and allowed him to be so easily captured. Her death was the real end of the time before the Purge."
Luna shook her head sadly, and looked uncharacteristically serious. "Beauty, wisdom and knowledge like that destroyed through ignorance."
"And we'll have to see her every day," said Merlin, pained. "Every single day knowing what will happen to her and being unable to stop it. I always thought I'd like to see the days before the Purge, but I cannot see the beauty and power, only what was lost and destroyed. Hindsight can be a curse."
Thinking about the dragon they had just seen, and the power and beauty of the place they inhabited, Harry couldn't help but agree.
A/N: My dissertation is due in just over a month, so I can't guarantee updates. I will try though. I want to turn over a new leaf for 2015!
On a related note, Happy Hogmanay to my fellow Scots, and Happy New Year to the rest of you! I'll leave you with a traditional Scottish New Year message: "Lang may yer lum reek!" Virtual cookies to anyone that can translate it :)