Merlin crumpled to the ground as Kilgharrah's spell deposited them back in the twentieth century. As before, he was momentarily stunned by the nausea of travelling through thirteen centuries of history, and lay there until the queasiness in his stomach and the ringing in his ears had ceased. He forced himself to his feet.

"Come on," he said shakily, breathing deeply.

He was met with groans from the ground, but slowly, the other six also stood up, clutching their stomachs. Ron in particular looked somewhat green.

"Where are we?"

Merlin, who had by now assessed his surroundings, pointed to a spot behind him. "Not far from where we started."

They were standing on the shore of the Isle of the Blessed, the ruined structure only just visible through the mist. Still humming with a vibrant magical energy, it nevertheless looked sad and derelict, a grotesque monument to the suffering it had seen so many years ago.

"Oh my," said Hermione, covering her mouth and staring straight ahead. "It looks dead."

"It doesn't feel it though," said Harry, and he glanced at Merlin. "The magic's still there. That's what matters in the end, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Merlin, pushing aside the sadness. "It is. And we have to make sure it stays that way. Come on."

With effort, he turned away from the shore and began to follow the overgrown path. Fawkes sat on his shoulder, his warmth spreading from his feathers into Merlin's body and his heart. He felt himself suffused with a new found sense of determination.

"Is this the same path we arrived on?" Hermione asked, tugging her medieval-style dress free from some brambles.

"Yes," said Merlin. "The magic around the island means we can't leave here by a spell. We have to follow the road far enough away from the island and then Apparate back to Grimmauld Place. It was a security defence."

"Didn't help them much though, did it?" Ron asked.

"No," Merlin said, hanging his head. "As you saw for yourselves. Magic may be powerful, but Muggles were more plentiful, and not every Druid could use magic, or wanted to use it to kill, even to defend themselves. Uther scattered the nomad tribes, slaughtered them, forced them all onto the Isle to be penned in and picked off one by one."

"Could the High Council do something?" Ginny asked. "Surely their magic would have been powerful enough to protect the whole island?"

"Probably," said Merlin. "But fate is fate, and no amount of power can change that."

They fell into silence, and continued following the path. Gradually, the overpowering feeling of magic around them began to dim. After about half an hour wandering aimlessly through the trees on a path that was barely visible they emerged onto a country lane. Muggle road signs lined the road, but there was no sign of any other people.

"The magic ends here," Merlin told them. "Back to Grimmauld Place."

They all nodded, and the next second, they had all either Apparated or Transported away. Merlin felt himself melt into the crushing darkness and swirling winds. When the world came into focus once again, he recognised the drawing room of number twelve. Straight away, he realised appearing by magic in this room had probably been a bad idea. The room was filled with Muggles. They were injured, lying on small camp beds or blankets on the floor, and all screamed at the sight of them.

"It's alright!" Harry and the others tried to reassure them, but they had caused quite an uproar. Fortunately a few of the Muggles recognised them as the wizards who had rescued them and managed to calm the rest. Still, the fear lingered in their eyes, the same hopeless fear that Merlin had seen in the eyes of the refugees on the Isle of the Blessed. The world had not changed as much as he had once hoped it had. It had taken his journey into the past to realise that.

The door to the drawing room opened, and a shriek met their ears.

"You're back!"

Tonks came flying towards them, her hair a sad mousy brown and grabbed as many of them into a hug as her arms could hold. She fell on each of them in turn, Draco included, who flushed pink and then finally squeezed Merlin tight. He was surprised to see her normally cheerful composure break. Her faced was lined and looked paler than normal.

"How long have we been gone?" Merlin asked her.

"Almost two weeks," she said, giving them all a second hug. "We thought something had gone wrong, that you'd gotten stuck in the past. I mean, why couldn't you have come back to the exact moment that you left rather than leave us hanging all this time?"

"Kilgharrah obviously didn't know what exact time and date to send us to," Hermione said. "We're lucky he got us as close as he did."

"Don't get me started on Kilgharrah," scowled Tonks. "Every day we've been asking him when you're coming back, if you're coming back and every single bloody time it's 'When they're ready.' So he sent you back? He knew all along that you would be okay and come back to us? He wouldn't tell us a thing!"

"He's like that," agreed Merlin.

"Did it really take you two weeks to get the spell?"

They exchanged glances. "We there a lot longer than two weeks," Harry said. "But yeah, it took a while."

"I can tell," said Tonks, wrinkling her nose. "Didn't they have soap in that century?"

"Where are the others?" Merlin asked, feeling as always a slight, irrational annoyance at every attempt to criticise the century in which he had been born.

"Downstairs in a meeting," Tonks said. "I only came up to see what the noise was." The Muggles around them had either wandered off or were listening in with befuddled expressions. "They'll be so glad to see you lot. We were just talking about you. We didn't know if you were coming back! Come downstairs."

The seven of them began to follow Tonks, but Fawkes had leapt from Merlin's shoulder and was now perched by some Muggles. Merlin saw the glint of water at his eyes and realised what he was doing. Hopefully, soon, they would cast the spell which would mean none of these people had been injured in the first place.

Harry thought Mrs Weasley was about to burst at the sight of them. When they had first walked into the kitchen, she had shrieked even louder than Tonks, and pulled them all into even tighter hugs. Harry's glasses were knocked off more than once by her enthusiasm, which was almost matched by everyone else who had leapt to their feet at the sight of them and embraced them, shook their hands or just patting their backs. He felt bruised all over.

Kingsley alone had restrained himself, but Harry could tell he was enormously relieved to see them. He tried to start speaking but was drowned out by the gaggle of red heads that were converging on Ron and Ginny. He laughed, and sat back down at the kitchen table, where he was joined by Remus, after he had embraced Harry and everyone else gradually as the hysteria evaporated.

They seven time travellers took seats at the table eventually, as the rest of the Order also sat or lined the walls of the room. The excitement was almost tangible. The mood however was only temporary. After the happiness of a few moments before, the room turned serious as they all remembered the reason for the trip to the past.

"I speak for all of us when I saw how glad we are to have you back with us," Kingsley said, to many murmured agreements. "We had almost despaired of seeing you again. Only Kilgharrah seemed calm."

"Well he would be," said Ron. "We met him back then. He's the one who sent us back. He knew all along, the big liar."

"He knew?" Kingsley asked, eyebrows raised. "But, wouldn't meeting him have upset the timeline?"

"Don't know," shrugged Ron. "Don't think so, but I can't understand it all. I'm just glad to be back to a time where I don't have to worry that stepping on a bug could erase my own existence. Meddling with the past is exhausting."

"That is exactly what we need to do however," said Kingsley, and he turned his gaze on Merlin. "Did you get it?"

Merlin nodded and withdrew the scroll from his pocket. The eyes of everyone in the room were upon it.

"All of this death can be solved by something as small as that?" Remus said, staring at it. "Incredible."

"What's more incredible is how long it took them to give it to us," Ginny said. "They knew all along we were from the future. They had expected us. But still they had to wait weeks and weeks and let us prove ourselves."

"Weeks and weeks?" Mrs Weasley asked. "You've been gone that long?"

"Yep," said Ginny. "All the time trying to avoid messing anything up. You know how hard that is? Being around people you know are going to die any day?"

"I thought you were going back to before the Purge?"

"Yeah, two weeks before."

"Two weeks?"

"Merlin met his father."

"What?"

"This isn't important," Merlin said, as everyone turned to stare at him. "We can tell you all about our experiences later, but now we have to focus on this spell."

Kingsley nodded. "I agree. Have you read it?"

"No, we only got it this morning. Well, when I say this morning …" Merlin shook his head, not even attempting to make sense of the peculiarities of time travel. "I'll read it now."

He opened the scroll slowly, and carefully read the several lines of script. The language used was old, older than even he could apparently decipher easily. The spell was obviously ancient. He read it through a few times, and then furled the parchment once more.

"Well, aren't you going to do it?" Charlie Weasley asked impatiently.

"It has to be done at night," he explained. "Midnight."

"Of course it does," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

"We've waited this long, a few more hours won't hurt," Merlin said, but Harry could see the restless way he tapped his fingers against the table. "We can take the time to rest."

"Finally," said Ginny, sighing. "We were in a battle this morning you know. With Muggles and swords and everything. I can't wait to get some sleep."

"Same," said Ron, who was yawning. "A proper bed, proper food, proper bathrooms, proper clothes."

"We were wondering when to bring that up," Fred said, sniggering. "You look even worse than Mundungus on a bad day."

"And smell worse," George added.

"I've grown quite used to them actually," said Hermione fiddling with the corner of her dress. "I found the cultural experience quite fascinating."

"I never expected anything different from you," said Ron, yawning again. "Just show me the nearest bath and bed and I'll be happy."

"You'll need to go to the Burrow if you want a bed," Mr Weasley said. "This place is filled with Muggles in every room. The Burrow is less crowded. There's a room or two to spare."

"I forgot," Ginny said, her voice hushed. "There are still Muggles out there dying, aren't there?"

"There won't be soon," Merlin said firmly, and he stood up. "We'd better get some sleep, all of us. This spell will require a lot of power."

"We can all help," Bill said, and everyone around the table nodded.

Merlin smiled, and glanced at Harry and the others. "I've already got a plan."

He turned and left, and the people in the room began to drift away, or press closer to the six travellers and ask them questions. Ron and Ginny were soon once again surrounded by members of their family. Harry made for Remus instead, who placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. His lined face smiled at him.

"I'm glad you're back safe," he said. "You had us thinking you'd all been burned at the stake!"

"Not quite," Harry smiled, but the smile was forced, and there was a sinking feeling in his gut. "How bad has it gotten?"

Remus' smile had now also become forced. "Very," he said. "Rogers has declared war on us. They're rounding us up in the streets, or at least they think they are. Lynchings are commonplace almost everywhere now. And it's spread all around the worl; America, Australia, Africa … it's good you've come back."

Harry nodded, trying not to let it get to him. "Are there still refugees at Hogwarts?

"Yes, the place has filled up quickly," Remus said, frowning.

"Is …" Harry hesitated before continuing. "Are my aunt and cousin there?"

Remus' face creased in sympathy. "They were," he said. "But your aunt … well, let's just say she didn't take to it. We moved her to the Burrow, and Dudley went with her. She's actually been pretty useful; she's tended to some of the Muggle refugees that are staying there. Not without cursing us all to kingdom come however."

"Obviously," said Harry. He sighed. "She'll never forgive me."

"If you succeed, your uncle will never have died," Remus reminded him.

"Yes, but …" Harry trailed off. How could he explain how he felt about the whole situation? He'd seen enough Muggle prejudice against magic to last him a lifetime, and though the Dursleys had never been as violent as others it still bothered him. He was trying to stop the persecution, had wanted to do the same back in the seventh century, but even if he succeeded, he'd never be able to wipe it out in his own family. Uncle Vernon had died essentially because his views on magic had so alienated Harry as to make him forget all about him when they needed him. Fighting ignorance was the hardest battle of all.

"I suppose I'd better get over to the Burrow then," Harry said.

Remus nodded, and then left to talk some more to Kingsley. Harry looked around the room and he saw mixed expressions of worry, nervous anticipation and relief. He felt a churning in his own stomach. What if they turned back the clock only to fail anyway? Would they be able to prevent the Liberators from revealing themselves?

Standing outside the Burrow, it was difficult to imagine that the world around them was literally going up in flames. The farmhouse, slightly hunched to one side looked as it always did, calm and peaceful and welcoming. Merlin didn't go inside, instead, he turned his attention to the field before him and waited patiently.

Presently, he heard the sound of wings, and two massive forms landed before him, causing the ground to tremble beneath his feet.

Aithusa bowed her head but Merlin's attention was fixed solely on Kilgharrah. There seemed to be a sort of smile on the great dragon's face which would have infuriated Merlin once, but was now only a minor annoyance.

Merlin looked up into his giant face. "You knew."

Slowly, Kilgharrah chuckled.

"I know a great many things, Merlin," he said. "What exactly are you referring to?"

"Don't play stupid," said Merlin. "You knew we would run into you back then."

"Naturally, would I have sent you back if I were not entirely sure of you being able to return?"

"That means," Merlin ploughed on, "that when we met in Camelot, you already knew everything. You knew everything that would happen to me."

"I did," said Kilgharrah. "And that is what gave me strength in those long years of captivity beneath the city. I knew you would one day come for me. I knew one day that you would succeed in fulfilling your destiny. I always had faith that you would grow into a powerful sorcerer, a good, kind, wise and strong man because I had already seen it. "

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, and then to his own surprise began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Aithusa asked. "I thought you would be furious!"

"I should be," Merlin said, still laughing. "But I'm not. I finally understand it all, or at least I think I do. I can't make sense of it, but I get it."

"Good, because I don't," said Aithusa.

"I spent so long doubting everything," Merlin said, still looking at Kilgharrah. "Doubting myself, doubting you, doubting the Old Religion, but I shouldn't have, because it all ties together perfectly. Destiny isn't a separate distinct part of my life, it's something that binds us all together. It's more complex than I could ever imagined, and I understand only one small part of it, but that doesn't matter, because we aren't meant to understand its intricacies. Because I finally have faith in everything once more. I can put my trust in it again. You drive me crazy sometimes, but I finally understand why. Destiny, and knowledge of it can't just be dished out like sweets, it's something we can only discover on our own. By living it."

Kilgharrah looked pleased, and Merlin grinned.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking between the two dragons. "I've never been the Dragonlord that I should have been to the two of you. I've never truly understood my place in the world and I resented the two of you for that fact. It was my own fear of destiny and fate that stopped me from behaving as I should have. I apologise."

He looked to Kilgharrah now. "This is why you never told me about Dragonlord magic or Dragon Magic, isn't it?"

"Partly," Kilgharrah said. "But there is one other reason."

"What is that?"

"I thought that your father would be the best teacher you could have," Kilgharrah said, smiling.

Merlin nodded, feeling oddly emotional. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the book that Rhona had given him. He held it up to Kilgharrah.

"This will ensure I never forget my duties again," Merlin said. "I won't let our two races be forgotten. Not again."

"I have every faith in you, Merlin," said Kilgharrah. "And there is yet more I can teach you that Druidess Rhona did not know." He leaned down here, until his face was almost on a level with Merlin's. "I have never formed a Bond with a Dragonlord before, Merlin," he said. "I have never linked with one, though many have tried. Your father came the closest. I have never found one worthy of such a Bond."

Then Merlin felt a change over him, like being submerged in a warm bath, he felt tingly all over and infused with a new sense of life. His heart skipped, and he gasped.

"That is, until now," Kilgharrah said.

Merlin grinned. "I am honoured to be the first," he said, fixing his eyes on Kilgharrah. "I hope I do not disappoint."

"Such a thing is impossible, Merlin."

They stared at each other for a moment or two, and were then interrupted.

"I've never formed a Bond either," Aithusa pouted.

Merlin laughed and turned to face the younger dragon. "Because I am the only Dragonlord you've ever known," he said to her. "And I've been a pretty terrible one. Do you forgive me?"

Aithusa tilted her head to the side in mock consideration. "I suppose I might be able to."

As the feeling washed over Merlin once again, he close his eyes in sheer bliss. This was how his life was always supposed to have been. He would never doubt again.

Harry had arrived at the Burrow at the same time Kilgharrah and Aithusa had landed in the adjoining field. He watched them from a distance, but decided that they deserved some time with Merlin, and instead took a deep breath and headed for the front door.

He entered the kitchen to find several Aurors and Healers either sitting at the table or sleeping with their heads on it. They looked up as he entered but said nothing, despite obviously recognising him, evidently too exhausted. It was strange to see the Burrow filled with people but with no red head in sight. They made no objection as he passed through the room and climbed the stairs. He peeked in at the rooms as he passed, seeing Muggles lying there in varying states of pain, and some more Healers. He didn't stop however, and continued climbing higher until he found the person he was looking for.

Before he did however, he saw another familiar figure coming down the stairs towards him.

"Dudley?"

Dudley stopped in amazement, dropping the dirty sheets he was carrying. His jaw dropped.

"Harry?" He took a step closer. "Is it really you?"

"Who else would it be?"

"They told us that you were missing," Dudley said. "That you hadn't been seen in two weeks."

"Getting worried about me?" Harry said, and was shocked when he saw Dudley nod. "You were?"

"Of course!" Dudley said, face going slightly pink. "I mean, you are my cousin. And I know that … well, that you're the only one who would be able to stop all of this."

"Not the only one, Merlin did most of it," Harry said, embarrassed.

"Have you found a way to help us?"

"We're doing it tonight," Harry said.

Dudley nodded, not asking any more.

Harry pointed towards the sheets. "Since when did you do laundry?"

"I've been helping," Dudley said, shuffling his feet. "Thought it was the least I could do. I'm not hurt after all. Those Healer people do most of the work though. It's not bad here, despite all the horrible stuff going on. The only problem is the noise that comes from the attic. It frightens everyone that comes here. I … I think it's a ghost."

"Nah," Harry said. "Just a ghoul. And he's harmless."

"A ghoul? How do you know?" Dudley asked, eyes wide.

"This is my friend Ron's house."

"Is it?" Dudley said. "This is where you come every summer?"

"Yep," Harry said. "I love it here."

"I can imagine," Dudley said, looking around. "It's nothing like home."

"No," Harry said. "It isn't." He laughed. "I bet your mum hates it though."

Dudley's face darkened. "Of course she does. Talking mirrors, dishes that do themselves, little potato things running around the garden … then again, she prefers it to Hogwarts. It looks a little bit more normal if you know what I mean. She hated it there."

"And what did you think of Hogwarts?" Harry asked, smiling.

A light came into Dudley's eyes. "It was amazing," he said. "You never told me your school was in a castle! It was strange, and bizarre and I was scared half the time because of all the weird stuff around, like moving staircases and portraits and ghosts. But I liked it. I stayed in Gryffindor Tower. One of the boys there told me that's where you live when you're there."

Harry just stared at his cousin. He couldn't be more shocked at the difference between the man before him and the one of his childhood.

Harry nodded. "If all turns out well, Dudley, I'll take you back and give you a proper tour."

"I'd like that," Dudley said.

Harry smiled, and sighed. "I'd better go, I've got someone else to talk to."

"Dudley grimaced. "Good luck."

"See ya. Big D."

Harry moved past his cousin and started back up the stairs again. He saw her standing in the door of what had once been Fred and George's old room. She looked into the room, a frown on her face, arms folded across her chest. She turned around at his approach, and her frown deepened.

Harry stopped just in front of her.

"So you aren't dead then?" she said. "They told us you'd gone missing."

"Disappointed?"

She shrugged. "Makes no difference to me."

"Do you care?" Harry asked, wanting to know the thing he'd always wondered. "Do you care about me, even a little bit? Have you ever? Do you ever feel bad for the way you treated me all those years? Did you hate my mother that much?"

"I never hated Lily," Petunia said, blinking hard. "Never truly anyway. I despised her lifestyle, her world."

"Then why did you act the way you did?" Harry asked. "Why treat her the way you did? Was it jealousy? I know that you wrote to Dumbledore to ask to go to Hogwarts as well."

Petunia started, and then glanced around the corridor as though terrified someone had heard.

"How do you know that?" she hissed.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "If you ever truly loved your sister, then why did you treat me the way you did?"

Petunia looked away from him pointedly. "Because I hate magic," she said, her voice trembling. "I hated it for taking my sister from me. For driving a wedge between us that could never be fixed. For killing her before we made things right. You reminded me of all of that."

"It wasn't magic keeping that wedge between you," Harry said sadly. "It was you. You could have fixed it. You could have had a second chance with me. You threw that away."

Petunia turned back to him, her face furious. "Well, I was right," she said. "Look what magic brought us! My husband is dead because of you and your world."

"He wouldn't be if you'd faced up to your responsibility," Harry said. "If you'd treated me for what I am, your own flesh and blood, the first thing I would have done when all of this started was make sure you were safe. But I forgot all about you. What does that say about you?"

Petunia glared at him, but had no answer.

"You've seen what hatred and bigotry like yours leads to," he said, gesturing to the room beyond and its occupants. "Your husband died because of the same prejudice he has. Ironic really. Will you never see the truth?"

"What good would it do me now?" she shot back.

"It would do the world some good," he replied. "I understand now more than ever what views like yours lead to. Maybe I can't change your mind, but I know that deep down, in your heart, you know what I'm saying is true. I know that because I know you did love my mother. If you didn't, you would have chucked me in an orphanage, even though that would have left me open to attack. You need to remember that love. You need to honour her memory. You can't apologise to her, but that doesn't mean you can't make amends. Even now."

Without another word, Harry turned and headed downstairs. Why he was telling her all of this, he didn't know, because she wouldn't remember the conversation if they were successful in changing the past. But it felt important that he say it.

Several hours later, after he had showered and slept in Ron's room, Harry and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix had assembled in the kitchen of the Burrow, the Aurors and Healers unceremoniously expelled, and there was a barely concealed excitement in the air. The kitchen windows had been thrown open, and Kilgharrah and Aithusa were outside, occasionally poking one large eye towards the window, unable to get any closer, but wanting to take part in the discussion.

Kingsley had arrived just a few seconds earlier and now everyone's eyes were flicking between him and Merlin, and then up to the Weasley's clock, where all hands pointed to ''Mortal Danger".

"Half an hour to go," Kingsley said, looking at Merlin. "Do you know what you have to do?"

Merlin nodded, and opened the scroll once more. "I have to cast this, and then the world will go back to a specified point in time that I will have to focus on. I'll make that the morning of the Liberator's attack."

"Isn't that too late?" Bill asked. "They'd exposed themselves before that."

"Yeah, and everyone's all riled up," said Charlie, but Merlin shook his head.

"It is hard enough to go back to that one point, without adding on even more time," Merlin said. "We don't know exactly when the Liberators started their operations, we can't estimate when to go back to stop them before they wriggle their way into position. It could be months, and to turn back the time so much would be dangerous. Besides," he said. "The issues that were raised by the Liberators, although controversial, needed to be raised. They needed to be addressed. They will be."

"All right," said Kingsley. "We shall trust your judgement in this. How will the spell work exactly? Will we be able to remember?"

"Some of us will," Merlin said, reading the scroll once again. "People in direct contact with the caster will retain their memories of the last several weeks, everyone else will just be living the days over again."

"Doesn't that create a paradox though?" Hermione asked. "If we go back and change the past so that the Liberators didn't expose us all, doesn't that mean we would have never had to go back to the past at all to get the spell in order to cast it?"

"Time is complex, young sorceress," said Kilgharrah from outside the window, making everyone jump. "It is more flexible than we think. It shall resolve itself."

"So, how many of us will need to remember?" Harry asked.

Merlin looked at him. "Everyone who went back to the past should remember," he said. "You've all learned too much on the Isle of the Blessed to forget."

Harry nodded, relieved that he wouldn't forget all the incredible things he had seen.

"Kingsley should remember as well," Merlin said, looking at him. "You could help us from the Ministry."

Kingsley nodded, but he frowned somewhat. "It makes me uncomfortable however that so many people need to forget," he said. "We have all grown so much in the last few weeks. Many around this table have demonstrated acts of great heroism and sacrifice that deserve to be remembered. It would be a waste to throw all of that away."

"I agree," said Merlin, "but the more people remember, the harder the spell. There are millions around the world who deserve to remember, millions who have realised that they were braver than they thought, discovered what is really important in their lives. But they can't all remember."

"At least they'll all be alive," Fred said. "Still, I don't like the fact that I won't remember all of this. It feels like dying somehow. The person I am now won't exist again. I've seen things that have changed me."

Everyone looked glum, but the mood was broken by one cheerful voice.

"I've got an idea."

Everyone turned to stare at the speaker. Luna was smiling.

"Dumbledore's Pensieve," she said simply.

There was a moment of silent confusion. Then it hit Harry,

"Of course!" he said. "Take the memories of the last few weeks and put them into bottles that we can take with us. Then once it's all over you can all take them back and watch them in the Pensieve."

"That's brilliant!" said Bill, but Hermione was shaking her head.

"When we go back, we'll be going back to the exact same place we were that day, wearing the exact same clothes. We can't take anything with us."

Harry's mood was killed somewhat, but was raised again when a voice came from the window.

"We can help with that."

Aithusa had pressed one eye up against the window. "We won't be affected," she said. "Dragons do not exist according to the normal rules of time. That's how we can see the future. It isn't linear for us. We exist separately. If we will it, we can be left completely unaffected."

"The young one is right," Kilgharrah said from behind her. "We can remain constant, even if the world changes around us. It will require effort, but it can be done. If you give the memories to us, we can keep them safe."

"Excellent," said Percy. "Now, who's first?"

Slowly, wands came from pockets and small glass vials were being conjured. People's faces screwed up in concentration as they brought wispy silvery strands from their heads and trapped them in the vials. They handed them over to Merlin who was closest to the window. Some however shook their heads. They obviously were happy to not remember.

"Should we do it?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the time travellers.

"No," said Merlin. "I'll need you lot to help me in the past. It would take too long to get your memories back. We'll need to move quickly. The others can wait."

"What exactly will you do?" Mr Weasley asked.

Everyone looked at Merlin.

"We'll all be in separate places," he said. "We need to regroup as quickly as possible. Head to Grimmauld Place. We'll need to get to Verax and get him to call off the attacks."

"How will that work?" asked Remus. "You can't force him to do that."

Merlin cast a half-glance at the dragons.

"I could if I needed to," he said. "I … learned some new abilities on the Isle of the Blessed. But I would rather not." He thought for a moment. "There will be eight of us who remember," he said slowly. "The Liberators exposed themselves in seven cities: London, Edinburgh, Cardiff, Belfast, Dublin, Paris and Berlin. If one person went to each location, they could stop the attacks before they happen."

"And how would we do that without exposing ourselves as well?" Ron asked. "Wouldn't a duel in the middle of Trafalgar Square be just as bad?"

"That's why it's only a back-up," said Merlin. "I'll be going after Verax himself. Hopefully, you won't have to do anything but watch."

"You really think you can make Verax change his mind?" Remus asked.

Merlin nodded. "I believe I can."

Harry looked away. He knew that Merlin could use his new Dragonlord abilities to force Verax to do what he wanted. He also knew that doing so was an ability that Dragonlords had seldom used due to its severity. It felt like the Imperius Curse to him. But there was too much at stake.

Merlin glanced at the clock. "It's almost time."

"Wait!"

Harry jumped at the sound of his cousin's voice. He watched in astonishment at Dudley squeezed himself into the crowded room, which was no mean feat, and approached Merlin. Aunt Petunia followed him mutely, all but glaring at everyone in the room, avoiding looking towards the window and the two dragons outside it. The two of them for some reason had been listening in the hall.

"I want to remember as well," Dudley said, looking nervous at all the wizards around him. "I mean, I don't quite understand what it is you're all saying, but I get that once you do this spell, whatever it is, I won't remember the last few weeks. And I want to." He took a deep breath and looked at Harry. "All of these people fighting each other over who's magical and who isn't … it's so stupid. All this hatred and prejudice has killed thousands of people, my dad included. And I don't want any part of it. I want to remember this. I don't want to go back to hating magic. I need to remember this. I can't go back to being the bully I was to you Harry. I'm sorry for everything I did to you back then. Please don't let me forget this. Maybe I can help end the prejudice in at least one Muggle family."

Harry couldn't quite get over his shock. He stared at his cousin, oddly touched.

"Who are you and what have you done with Dudley Dursley?" he murmured, and Dudley chuckled nervously.

He looked at Remus. "Can Muggles use Pensieves?"

Remus nodded. "I believe so. There is no magic involved."

Dudley looked pleased though he obviously had no idea what a Pensieve was.

Remus stood by Dudley and touched his wand against his temple, causing him to flinch. "Focus on the last few weeks," he said. "Let the memories fill your mind, how you felt, how you acted, every little detail."

Dudley's face screwed up so tightly it looked as though he might burst. Slowly, silvery wisps of memories leaked out of his head. Petunia gasped and moved forwards but someone held her back, and soon it was over, and the memories were encased inside a vial. Dudley breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was weird," he said, sounding dazed.

"And what about you?" Remus had said to Petunia. Harry noticed his expression hardened when he looked at her.

Petunia grudgingly moved forwards, looking at the ground. "I want to remember as well," she said.

"But why? Surely the memories are painful?"

She cast a half-glance at Harry. "I … " she began, unable to speak for a moment. She continued, her voice barely more than a mumble. "I owe it to my sister."

"And not to your nephew?" Remus said, his expression showing exactly what he thought of her. "She talked of you a lot, you know. It broke her heart that you acted the way you did. She would be so upset at the way you treated her son."

"You think you knew Lily better than I did?" Petunia said, looking at him finally, eyes shining. "She was my sister."

"And you abandoned her," Remus said. "You should never have done that."

She looked away again. "Will you help me remember or not?"

Remus watched her a moment, and then repeated the memory process with her. Petunia flinching and clutching on to her son so tightly he cried out in pain. The magic repulsed her.

"I don't know why I want to remember," she said, when it was over. She glanced at Harry. "But Lily would want me to. And I owe her that at least. But don't expect me to-"

"Like magic, yeah, I know, you still hate it," Harry said, unsurprised. "I don't care why you want to remember. But I'm glad you do. Maybe one day you'll see why it was so important."

She looked away, folding her arms tightly across her body and did not speak again. Her bottle, along with Dudley's went to the pile in front of Merlin. The pile glowed golden for a second and then were gone.

"I have them now in my safe-keeping," Kilgharrah said from outside. "Merlin, the time is now."

Merlin nodded. He held the parchment tightly in his hand and took a couple deep breaths. Harry and the others who would be remembering took this as their cue to crowd around and lay one hand on him. He closed his eyes for several minutes, and when he opened them, it was a bit of a shock. One eye was the same golden colour as Kilgharrah's scales, and one was pure white, like Aithusa's.

He's Bonded and linked with them, Harry thought. Thirteen hundred years to Bond and all it takes is a few weeks in the past to learn how to do it.

Then, Merlin began reading, and his voice sounded deeper and harsher than usual, each word laced with powerful energy. Gold and white light surrounded his palms as they gripped the scroll. Harry was shocked, that despite Merlin reading in an archaic form of English, he was able to understand the meaning through the unfamiliar sounds. "Turn back the days. Let the days be redone. Let time be reset. Turn back the days."

Merlin completed the last word, and there was no swirling winds or light surrounding them like the last time they had travelled through time.

All there was, was a sudden blackness.