Merlin's heart was hammering as he followed Findan and Melian through the corridors of the castle in an almost solemn procession. Neither of them turned or spoke to them, and Merlin could feel the growing excitement of his companions. He himself was barely remaining calm. This was what they had come for. Now they could finally go back.

As they walked, Fawkes suddenly appeared on his shoulder. Findan and Melian barely cast him a glance, but Merlin was more relieved than ever to have his familiar weight there once more.

The two sorcerers stopped in front of the wooden normal looking door that led to the Inner Sanctum. As one, Findan and Melian stretched out their hands and placed them against the wood. The door was enveloped in golden light and a humming sound filled the air. The door seemed to melt away, exposing the darkness within.

"Come," they said, and they followed meekly. They were led up a long winding staircase in almost pitch darkness. Once or twice he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ron's swear as he tripped over his own feet in the dim light, which spoiled the reverent mood somewhat. Ginny was directly behind him, and she reached out to grab Merlin's sleeve when she too stumbled.

"Don't they have lights in this century?" Ginny grumbled.

"No lights," said Findan from somewhere in front. "This symbolises the progression from ignorance and darkness to illumination and revival."

"That is if people survive the journey," Ginny said quietly, so only Merlin could hear. He chuckled, and took her hand in his.

"Hold on to me," he said. "It's not much further."

Soon, they emerged once more into the light, and Merlin realised they were at the top of one of the towers. The landing they had emerged onto had many rooms leading off from it, places for eating, sleeping and studying, and also one that hummed with a mysterious magic.

"The Cup of Life is in there, isn't it?" Harry asked, coming up behind Merlin. "I can feel it."

"Yes," said Merlin, staring at the door. "As are many other artefacts that soon become lost to history."

"This way," commanded Findan, entering one of the chambers, and together, they followed.

The room they had emerged into was large and airy, with many windows that allowed sunshine to stream in. Evidently, this tower stretched high above the mists that encircled the island. The view from the windows was like a blanket of clouds, stained shades of pink and orange from the sun above. Inside, seated around a horseshoe shaped table were the other members of the High Council, three men and one woman, all of whom looked fairly young (although Merlin knew this could be deceptive) and each radiated powerful magic.

"Welcome to the Inner Sanctum, travellers," Melian said, "few ever venture this far. You see before you High Priests Neman, Gailan and Siral, and also High Priestess Morwen. Stand before us and make your plea."

Each of the Council members nodded as their name was mentioned, and Melian and Findan took two empty seats around the table. There was however, one seat at the very end which was still left empty.

Neman, who sat in the middle of the table noticed his gaze. "You know by now, I'm sure, of High Priestess Nimueh's betrayal?"

"Yes," said Merlin. "I have seen her in Camelot."

"But you already knew, did you not?" Morwen said to him, shrewd eyes examining him from across the room.

"Yes," Merlin admitted, realising he could not lie to these people, even if he had wanted to. "I did."

"Tell me, Malcolm," said one of the others, Siral, he thought. "Why do you conceal your face?"

Merlin's heart leaped. They could see through his disguise.

"You know?" he said.

"Of course. We know who you are, Emrys, we have always known. And we know why you have come," said Melian.

"And how do you know that?" Merlin asked, though he knew that he was unlikely to get a straight answer.

They all smiled, and recited as one:

A time of darkness is approaching, a time of death and suffering,

A sorcerer, a lord of dragons, one who hides his face shall appear on the Blessed Isle,

He comes with six companions and with a phoenix.

He shall take the light from now unto the future to burn ever more.

He shall create a time of peace in his own time.

But the light shall only prepare his world for the ending of violence,

A chance for peace to grow, not be forced.

He shall return one day when the world is ready

To work alongside the Once and Future King

And fully restore peace together.

His name shall be Emrys.

Merlin shuddered as he heard this; the chanting alone was rather creepy. He should have known there would be a prophecy of some sort. There was always a prophecy.

"You see, we knew you would come," said Findan. "But we had to be sure of your identity and your intentions before we allowed you to meet with us."

"I see that now," said Merlin. "I've been selfish and I turned away from the right path. I should never have doubted. But that is over now."

"I hope so," said Neman. "But although we knew you would visit us from the future, we do not know specifically what it is that you desire."

"A spell to turn back the days," Merlin replied. "The future of the Old Religion needs it."

They all exchanged glances. He could see that they were surprised.

"That is a spell of very serious power," Findan said, frowning. "I believe you can cast it, your powers are legendary, but it is a great responsibility. Time should rarely be interfered with."

"I was sent here by Kilgharrah," Merlin said. "This time, history can be interfered with. I was resentful at first; why he would allow the evil that has occurred in my time to be erased but not the slaughter in my youth. By sending me here, he's helped me understand."

"Slaughter," Melian repeated, her eyes cast downwards. "You refer to the future of our people."

Merlin wanted to respond, but couldn't find the words. How could he try and comfort these people? Why should he even try; they probably resented him.

"Do not tell us anything of the future," Morwen said, her face grave. "The Old Religion has not revealed it to us for a reason. But you say that if we give you this spell, the future of our people can be assured. That peace can be brought about and our legacy live on?"

"Yes."

They stared at him as one for several minutes, and then looked at each other. Their faces were grim and sorrowful. Merlin felt the heaviness inside increase. They knew their people, their very home were doomed, and yet they still had such calm faith. They were being forced to make a decision about creating peace in a future that they would never see.

Like me, Merlin thought. I will never see Muggles and sorcerers re-united. But I will sure as hell make sure that the world will be ready for the day when it comes.

"The Great Dragon is never wrong," said Findan. "If he asks this of us, he has his reasons. We shall give you the spell."

Merlin barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before they had all began chanting as one again.

"Forþbringan se wicung."

A golden light filled the room and on the table before the High Council, a small scroll appeared, tied with a slight golden ribbon. After being beckoned forwards, Merlin reached out and took the scroll, and slipped it into his pocket. It was surprisingly heavy, almost as though the power of the words on the scroll were literally weighing it down.

"Thank you"

"Is that it?" Ron sked indignantly. "All this waiting and rituals to go through and that's all there is?"

"Have you not enjoyed your time on the Isle of the Blessed?" Findan asked, his tone a little annoyed. "Have you learned anything?"

"Well, yeah-"

"Then your time here has not being wasted." Findan said. "You now may all go."

"But we don't know how to get home," said Hermione, looking a little flustered.

"Did you not think of that before you came?"

"Kilgharrah said we would discover it for ourselves," she said.

"Well then, take his advice," said Findan dismissively.

"You aren't going to help us?" Draco asked disbelievingly.

"I believe we already have."

"Yes, and we're very grateful," said Merlin, before the others said something they might regret. He turned to leave, the others follow grudgingly. As he left, he noticed Nimueh's empty chair.

"Why didn't you stop her?" he asked, gesturing. "Why did you let her do what she did?"

"There are no explanations for betrayal this deep," said Merlian, her head bowed. "We did not expect her to do what she did. No High Priestess of Old would ever have granted that woman a child, not for that price. We know that Queen Ygraine will die in childbirth, and that her death will make things worse for us all. We cannot fathom it."

"Power lust, jealousy and greed," Merlin said. "Human frailties. But you should have told the Druids the truth as soon as it happened. You should have prepared them, instead of trying to hide your own shame. Now, it is too late."

The High Council did not contradict him, and Merlin decided to leave before he lost his temper. The past was past. He could not fall into that old trap. He had the future of think of.

"How are we going to get back?" Harry asked as soon as they were back in the courtyard. His senses were still tingling from being so close to all that power. "Can Fawkes take us?"

Everyone looked at the phoenix sitting on Merlin's shoulder, but all he did was continue to preen his feathers.

"I think if he could, or wanted to, he would have offered by now," said Merlin. "We'll have to find another way."

"But how? Would a dragon help us?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe."

"Then why don't you ask-"

"Malcolm!"

Harry and everyone else turned when they heard the young Druid Cenric's voice behind them. Almost as soon as they had turned, the warning trumpets that signalled danger began blaring.

"What's wrong, another attack on the road?" Merlin asked, but Cenric shook his head, gasping for breath as he approached.

"Not the road," he panted. "Here! The very edges of our borders."

"Here?" Harry asked in alarm, and sure enough, he could already hear the cries of Druids fleeing into the castle from the grounds outside. Druids were being called to action. "Who's attacking?"

"Does it matter?" he gasped. "You have to help us. You're more powerful than anyone else here, Malcolm. I need to go and warn the others."

He ran off, and left them standing there.

"We can't help, can we?" Hermione asked, looking distressed. "We can't interfere in the past any more than we have, can we?"

"We have to do something!" protested Ron. "We can't let them all die!"

"But the Isle of the Blessed isn't supposed to be destroyed yet, is it?" asked Malfoy. "It isn't time. Maybe that means we can help?"

"But what if it means someone lives or dies that wasn't supposed to?" argued Ginny.

Harry and Merlin however had already met each other's eyes. Had they both heard the same calling from the Old Religion? They both nodded.

"We're helping," they said together.

Fawkes squawked once, and the next second, they'd all disappeared in a spurt of flame, even without clinging onto Fawke's tail feathers. When they all met solid ground again, it was in the midst of battle.

"Hilderan!" Merlin had yelled straight away, and the volley of arrows that had been about to hit them struck a barrier instead.

Harry spun around, trying to get a grasp on the situation. They were in a large clearing, and behind him clearly visible on the distant horizon was the Isle of the Blessed. At least a hundred Muggle soldiers were facing them, all wielding swords and axes and murderous expressions. Harry froze in fear for a moment; in all the battles he'd been in, he'd never had to fight actual soldiers before. However, he barely had a moment to wonder how these Muggles had even managed to get this close to the Isle of the Blessed before they attacked again.

He blocked their attacks easily with a flash of his eyes, and stretched out his palm.

"Anweald!" he cried, and several men were thrown backwards where they fell to the ground unmoving.

Almost at once, more men ran at him, and he had to employ every skill he had in evasion and quick-thinking to avoid being killed. His attackers may only be Muggles, but there were a lot of them.

"Freorig!" he yelled, and ten soldiers in front of him were frozen solid.

Several Druids had now joined the fray, fighting back with equal ferocity, despite their usually peaceful nature; even the most timid creatures defended their home. He cast a wide shield charm around himself and those in close proximity to search for his friends. All of them were engaged in keen battle, wands flying in the case of Ginny and Hermione, and eyes burning a constant gold for the others. The sheer force of the onslaught threatened to overcome them any moment.

Merlin however was at the front, and Harry had not seen him like this since fighting Morgana. His eyes were fierce and his voice harsh as he sent spell after spell at the attackers, not pausing for an instant.

More and more Druids joined them, spells flying in a multitude of colours over the heads of their allies, never missing their mark. Harry saw the fear in their attacker's eyes. Several turned and ran, others panicked at the magic before them and surrendered, but most were only spurred on further. There was hatred there.

Despite this however, they appeared to be winning.

"Bēam bindan," Harry said, and branches from the trees surrounding the clearing stretched out their branches like long snaking fingers and seized several of the men before them, dragging them backwards to bind them against the trunk, where they struggled helplessly.

He looked around desperately, seeing most of the attackers were gone or dissipating. He almost began to breathe a sigh of relief when from the trees on the other side of the clearing, yet more soldiers appeared. They emerged from the trees slowly, and it was impossible to tell how many there were. They spilled forwards like a swarm of ants until they were nearly upon them. In the centre of the front rank, was a single man, dressed in elaborate red robes, a sneer on his face. Harry could tell immediately that he was a sorcerer, and that the men here were all protected with powerful magic.

He almost despaired at the sight of so many hundreds before them, a small group of pacifist Druids. How could they fight that? Especially with the sorcerer that led them. Merlin would have to take him out, it was the only option. Harry couldn't even hope to contend with that amount of power with the little experience he had.

He turned to Merlin, to see him standing in front of the army before them. All the Druids had come to stand behind him. All looked grave, but Merlin … he looked calm.

Please Merlin, Harry thought. Do something.

Merlin almost laughed when he saw the approaching army. He wasn't sure why; even for someone of his power, taking out an army this size and a sorcerer that powerful would be no simple affair. But now, he was confident.

He eyed the sorcerer before him, sensing his magic and observing his smug little smile. He did not even waste time wondering why a sorcerer was attacking the Isle of the Blessed. He knew he had to protect it. It wasn't its time to fall, not yet.

He closed his eyes, and opened his mind to the Old Religion. A great calm had overcome him. He understood something that he hadn't before, something which now suddenly seemed ridiculously simple and natural. He stretched out his thoughts, seeking a familiar mind.

"Merlin?" the dragon's voice echoed in his mind.

"Niamhrach. I understand now."

"As I thought you would. Can I lend you any assistance?"

"If you feel up to it."

"I am always ready to defend my home."

Through their bond, Merlin felt an outpouring of such colossal power he almost cried out. He felt it infiltrating every cell in his body, bubbling away inside of him, running through his veins like fire. A new presence was within him. No longer was he Merlin, he was someone else as well, someone as ancient as the world itself. He felt like he was capable of anything. He was a vessel of more power than anything he could ever have imagined.

Harry stared as Merlin stood facing the army before them with his eyes closed. What was he doing? The Druids and Harry's friends lined up to face the oncoming assault, and all of them looked afraid.

"What's he playing at?" Ron asked Harry, staring at Merlin.

"We can't beat all of them," said Ginny staring at the approaching Muggles. "There's too many."

"Wait," Harry said, still staring at magic. "There's something different about him now."

"What do you mean?"

"There's … something there," Harry said, unable to express exactly what he was able to sense. "Another presence."

"Who?"

Harry was spared from answering because the next moment, Merlin had opened his eyes. For one heart-stopping moment, Harry did not recongise him. His eyes were not the blue he was accustomed to, rather a vivid almost otherworldly green, as brilliant as the sun, but more terrible. He held out both palms, and from his hands came a terrific torrent of green magic, more powerful than anything Harry had seen from him before. It wasn't human magic, it was elemental, pure. It was Dragon Magic.

"He linked with Niamhrach," Harry muttered, but no one was listening. They were all too focused on the sight before them.

The magic rushed at the Muggle army and collided with the barriers the sorcerer had cast around them, brushing them aside as if they had been made of cobwebs. The army was enveloped in green energy, and the next second they were gone, incinerated or sent hundreds of miles away, Harry couldn't be sure, it had happened so fast. The sorcerer had screamed in surprise, before he too was gone. When the green light eventually faded, there was not a trace of the army to be seen, save scorch marks on the trees behind where they had stood.

Merlin stood completely still, his eyes still a violent green, before their normal colour was restored. He gasped, and fell to his knees, trembling with the sheer power that been surging through his body a moment earlier.

Harry ran over to him immediately, as did Ron and everyone else, as the Druids began to celebrate.

"Merlin!" cried Hermione. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he laughed, still trembling, but looking happy as they helped him to his feet. "Can you believe that?"

"No," said Harry honestly. "It was incredible."

"You linked with Niamhrach," said Balinor, who had appeared suddenly, apparently having arrived with the other Druids. He was watching Merlin strangely. "That was a remarkably quick period of time in which to form a Bond. It usually takes Dragonlords years to build that sort of relationship with a dragon."

"I don't have years," said Merlin, still learning on Harry on one side and Malfoy on the other. "We'll be leaving soon."

"I will be sorry to see you go," said Balinor, and Merlin nodded, also looking sad.

"So will I."

"Who were they?" Harry asked. "Why did they attack, and why did they have a sorcerer with them?"

"Nimueh," said Merlin. "The shields of the soldiers bore her mark. The sorcerer must have been under her control."

"But why did she attack?"

"She's trying to gain the upper-hand," Merlin said grimly. "Consolidate her power before …"

"Before what?" Balinor asked, but they did not have the opportunity to compose a lie. Suddenly, a buffeting wind reached them from above, almost knocking Merlin, Harry and Malfoy to the ground. Everyone looked up in alarm, expecting another attack, but instead, a very familiar sight greeted them, along with the sound of huge wings flapping and then a ground-shaking thud.

It was Kilgharrah.

He was smaller than he appeared in Harry's time, though still huge. His golden scales shone in the sun, and looked fresher somehow, as if the Kilgharrah that Harry knew had been somehow polluted by the years of hiding he had done. He seemed livelier, more dangerous, and Harry took a couple of steps backwards as the Great Dragon walked towards them, shaking the earth as he did so. Harry was glad to see Merlin also looked slightly intimidated.

Then, panic set in. Kilgharrah was looking at them, and Harry suddenly remembered that Merlin was the only one of them that had a disguise. Had they just irreparably messed up the timeline? What damage could this do? He saw Hermione had also worked this out, and was looking panicked. Kilgharrah however looked entirely calm.

"Greetings, Lord Balinor," he said, bowing his head. "It seems I answered your call too late to help you."

"I am grateful in any case," Balinor responded, also bowing. "Malcolm managed to destroy our enemies by linking with Niamhrach."

"Is that so?" Kilgharrah asked, turning his head towards Merlin, who froze where he stood. "Malcolm."

"Uhhh," said Merlin, clearly at a loss. Kilgharrah chuckled.

"Do not worry young Dragonlord, I already know you are, who you really are," he said, peering closer. "I have anticipated your arrival for many years. Who was it do you think that gave the High Council their prophecy?"

Merlin gulped. "I- I don't know what to say," he mumbled. He looked confused, and Harry could tell what he was thinking. This must mean that Kilgharrah had always known what was going to happen. When he'd sent the seven of them back, he'd known full well what would become of them. It made Harry's head to spin to think of it all. All this non-linear stuff was confusing him. Prophecy and time-travel were definitely not his thing.

Balinor looked intrigued, but after a look from Kilgharrah did not question him further, though he looked fit to bursting with curiosity.

"Come, young sorcerers," Kilgharrah said. "Let us go back to the Isle of the Blessed. There, you may say your goodbyes. As I was the one who sent you to this time, I shall be the one to send you back."

Merlin and the others stood in the courtyard where both Niamhrach and Kilgharrah were now gathered, leaving very little room for anyone else. Kilgharrah had tended to Niamhrach with a tenderness that surprised him, and some magic from him had helped to repair some of the damage to her leg, though it was not healed entirely. It seemed this magic, though able to restore Aithusa's eyesight after her torture at the hands of goblins, was not enough to heal such a serious wound.

He couldn't quite believe Kilgharrah was here. He ought to be annoyed, just a few days ago he would have been furious. This meant that during his entire time in Camelot, Kilgharrah had known what would become of him, known that he would still be alive thirteen hundred years later, and what dangers the world would face then. How much had he known about everything else? Not for the first time, Merlin was unnerved by just how much Kilgharrah knew. It also meant that the Kilgharrah in their own time had known they would be successful and that he would be the one to send them back. He'd sent them back with the knowledge that they would meet him, and Merlin would meet his father. He wasn't sure how he felt about that quite yet. He was sure there was some great mystical reason behind it all that Kilgharrah would neglect to explain properly, so he shouldn't be too hopeful at finding out as soon as they got back to 1999.

Harry and the others were saying goodbye to the Druids they had met whilst staying here, friends and teachers alike, who were all more than a little curious about what exactly was going on. Merlin had no one to say goodbye to; he'd isolated himself so much. He noticed the barely concealed sorrow on their faces. They knew that a great many of the people they had met here would soon be dead, scattered or imprisoned. It was a horrible feeling, to leave knowing that you could do nothing about their futures.

Hermione had run up to their old quarters and returned a few moments ago carrying a bulging bag on her shoulder. Merlin wondered vaguely what on earth she wanted to keep from this century, before he noticed Draco hanging back, watching the proceedings with a pensive look on his face. Merlin moved to stand beside him, guessing what was on the young man's mind.

"You said that you wanted to stay here," he said. "Is that still true?"

Draco looked distressed and stared at his face. "I don't know," he said. "I don't think I could bear watching all of this go to ruin. But at the same time, what have I got waiting for me?"

"Your family, Draco," Merlin said. "Do not be ashamed of them, or your past. You have the chance to change the way the world sees the Malfoy clan. Be a positive influence in the world, don't hide from your perceived failings. That is exactly what I've been doing, and let me tell you, it's no fun."

Draco looked up at him, biting his lip. "You really think I should try and talk to my parents when I get back?" he asked dubiously. "Even after everything they've done?"

"They love you, Draco," Merlin said simply. "That will never change. You may not be able to excuse or forgive their actions, but you owe it to yourself and them to at least talk to them. You need to figure this out on your own, and you can't do that if you avoid them."

He looked across the courtyard where he saw Balinor talking with Niamhrach. "I would give anything to go over there and tell my father the truth," he said, his heart aching. "But I can't. Families aren't perfect, they never are. But they're all we have. And if yours still care about you, even now that you've joined forces with one of their former enemies, they're worth it."

Draco nodded. "Will you come with me to Azkaban to see my father?" he asked hesitantly, blushing as he did so.

"Of course I will," Merlin replied. He grinned, and Draco returned it reluctantly.

Together, they went over to stand with the others, and Kilgharrah looked in their direction. It was almost time.

Merlin looked around the island for the last time, feeling a small pang of grief, knowing this would be the last time he would see it in its former glory. As he finished his looking, he noticed his father standing nearby.

"I wish you well," he said. "I know not what task it is that awaits you in your own time, but I hope you succeed. I have faith in you, boy. You can restore the peace that I fear will soon be lost in my own time."

"I hope so," Merlin responded. He looked at his father one last time in detail, drinking in every last detail to remember in the years to come. This parting would be the hardest. He felt a lump growing in his throat, but tried not to let his sadness show. As far as Balinor was concerned, they were barely more than acquaintances.

When he had looked his fill, Merlin turned to Kilgharrah. "We're ready."

"Wait!"

Rhona was running towards them, her grey hair flying everywhere, cheeks red with exertion. She skidded to a halt in front of Merlin, and pressed what she had been carrying in to his hands. It was a thick leather-bound book.

"They're my memoirs," she explained hastily. "I've been collecting information about dragons and Dragonlords all my life. I don't know why I wrote it all down, but I want you to have it. It contains literally everything I know of our heritage." She paused a moment. "I'm sorry," she blurted out, "for the way I've spoken to you. The way you used the Bond during that fight … Niamhrach trusts you, and I should have as well. We need all the Dragonlords we can get, and if this can help you carry on our heritage and our history, then you are worthy of it. Protect it, protect our people's memory. Make sure we are never forgotten."

"I promise," Merlin said, looking at the book in his hands with awe. Now, he finally would know everything he could ever want to know about his people. He could make sure the knowledge would never die out again. "You don't know what this means to me."

She nodded, and then, after hesitating for a moment, to everyone's surprise including Merlin's she reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to respond. She turned her head, and whispered into his ear.

"Your father would be proud of you, if he knew," she said in a breathy voice, and then she pulled back smoothing down her dress and trying to hide the fact she was suddenly rather tearful. Merlin didn't need to see the shocked expressions of the Druid's faces to know this was extremely uncharacteristic behaviour.

"Aunt Rhona! Who knew you were suddenly so sentimental?" Balinor asked, staring at his aunt in amazement.

"Well," Rhona sniffed, trying to sound normal, and failing. "He's a Dragonlord, isn't he? That makes him family."

"I suppose," said Balinor, but he was frowning as he looked between his aunt and his son. Merlin decided now was the time to leave before he figured anything out.

"Kilgharrah?" he said, looking up at the dragon, who Merlin knew had understood perfectly what had just occurred.

"Are you ready?"

Merlin checked the scroll with the spell on it was in his pocket and the book in his hands, and motioned for Fawkes, who was perched on a nearby wall to flutter over to his shoulder.

"Yes."

Kilgharrah leaned forward, and as he had done before many years in the future, breathed a golden mist around them. Merlin barely had a second to give one last look at the island and his new found family, before once again, they were falling through blackness in a dreamlike trance.

The future was in their hands now.