Merlin's Chosen

Summary: Arthur has slept in Avalon, the otherworldly place just beyond the reach of magic for all but Merlin and his chosen, recovering from the injuries sustained in the battle at Camlann. Years have passed and times have changed and Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry has taken its place on the edge of the Lake of Avalon, unknown to modern witches and wizards. The world is in need of the Once and Future King to protect Albion again but to do that the immortal Merlin, the man that has learned to live backwards, must be there and he is nowhere to be found. It is now the job of Merlin's Chosen. Only, Harry Potter thinks he's going mental. This is based on the mountains that are around the movie version of Hogwarts and the lake that Merlin takes Freya to in season 2 episode 9.

A/N: It has to be at least six months since I last updated and I do feel bad for that, but I see that people are still interested in reading my strange little story and for that I am grateful. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the latest installment. (I have no promises as to the next chapter except for that it will be written.)

Chapter 10

Arthur made his way slowly down the long dungeon hallway. In the many hours since Morgana made her appearance, he attempted to make the largest dungeon cell as comfortable as possible.

"Arthur?" Arthur hadn't even realized he had stopped and he didn't know how long he stood in front of her cell. "Have you come to render your verdict?" She tried to sneer, but Arthur could see the fatigue and fear in her eyes. "Shall it be the hangman's noose or the pyre?"

The mere thought made Arthur sick. "Morgana…" Something in his voice caught her attention. Arthur reigned in what he could of the warring emotions and fully looked at his sister. "What can you remember?"

Morgana scoffed. "What does it matter? It's only a matter of time before you decide to send me to my death."

"Morgana, just stop." Morgana looked up at him. "I am not my father. I hope I don't have to remind you again."

"You've changed, Arthur," Morgana said a true smile on her face. "I'm glad." Her smile changed to a look of determination. "That is why I must tell you that Morgause means to move against you."

Arthur leaned forward hearing no lie in her voice. "Tell me everything you know."


"Madame Pomfrey! Please! I've been here a week! I feel fine!" Harry pleaded from his place on the bed. He was barely allowed to get up to use the loo much less walk around the hospital wing (he was ignoring the fact that he could barely make it to the loo without feeling winded and winced at the mere thought of walking to the door of the hospital wing.).

"Correction, Mr. Potter, you've been here three weeks. Two of which you were unconscious from nearly depleting your magic. You will leave when I allow you to."

Harry groaned and fell back against the pillows. He ignored Sirius' near silent chuckle. "It was a nice try, Harry, but you must have known it was going to be useless."

Harry smiled. "I know, but I was still hopeful." The pair heard a quiet huff from where the matron disappeared into her office and shared a mischievous smirk.

"You know, Harry you shouldn't antagonize Madame Pomfrey," Remus said arms laden with essays and quizzes which he dumped in Sirius' lap. "She knows how to poison you and make it untraceable."

"She also promised to do no harm." Harry shot back.

"Then I will make it look like an accident," a voice sounded from her office. Sirius barked out a laugh at which Harry half-heartedly glared at.

"How were the tests today?" Sirius asked ignore the glare.

"Quiet thankfully," Remus smirked. "Unlike your classes tomorrow."

Sirius waved it off. "Even Minerva agreed that I was better suited for the practical portions anyway."

"That still doesn't excuse you from grading, however."

Sirius groaned. "Harry, save me! Don't let Remus make me grade!" Harry could only chuckle at his god-father's antics as Sirius pulled out a quill and a bottle of ink and set to work, Remus sat beside him also grading with a small smile on his face.

"Are you two staying for dinner?" Remus and Sirius nodded absently at the matron who gave them a fond smile before going and making the dinner order.

"You know that you two don't have to sit with me every night. I'm sure Professor Dumblefpqe would like to see you in the Great Hall sometimes."

"Albus understands," Sirius said over what seemed, by the way he was looking at it sideways, to be a very confusing essay.

"Indeed I do." The trio turned and saw the jovial Headmaster walk toward them. "How are you, Mr. Potter?"

"Wishing I could leave this bed, Professor, but well enough."

The headmaster smiled. "Good, but I had hoped, Mr. Potter, that we could talk about what happened."

"It's going to be tough, Professor. I don't remember much."

"Pity." The headmaster's eyes dimmed a bit. "It was an impressive feat of magic. If only we could understand what happened, we might be able to recreate it."

"Not if I have any say, Headmaster," Madame Pomfrey protested.

"In a controlled environment, of course, Madame," Professor Dumbledore was quick to reassure. He turned back to Harry. "If you remember anything let me know."

"Of course, Professor," Harry assured with a smile. The headmaster nodded and departed as Madame Pomfrey deposited three trays in front of the men.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Potter," she said before disappearing into her office.

The trio was quiet, eating the provided meals, when Sirius said, "Why did you just lie to the headmaster, Harry?"

Remus choked on his peas and Sirius absently pounded on his back while waiting for his god-son's answer. "Harry lied?" Remus managed to choke out. "Why —?"

"Remus, not now."

"Sirius!"

"Remus!" Sirius said sharply not even looking at his friend. "Not now. Harry?"

Harry glanced nervously between the two men and Sirius grew concerned. "I had a feeling Professor Dumbledore wasn't to know."

"Why?" Remus asked. "It's not like we can't trust him."

"Remus!" Sirius said, his voice once again sharp. "Can you give Harry and I a moment, please?"

"Sirius…"

"Please, Remus."

Harry couldn't help but watch in morbid fascination the exchange as Remus pleaded with Sirius with Sirius not even looking at him. Harry could see the magic churning beneath his god-father's eyes and knew he had to do something before it escalated. Something was wrong.

"It's okay, Professor Lupin," Harry assured. "Just give us a moment."

Remus barely passed the next bed before Sirius had a privacy ward up. "Did you open the trunk again?"

Harry avoided his god-father's eyes and wrapped his arms around his knees making himself as small as poodle before nodding. "Back at Grimmauld Place," he answered. "The night we talked about what happened at the Ministry."

"Over a month ago?" Harry nodded again. "Did you read the journal?"

"Yes." Harry tightened the hold around his knees and Sirius swore making Harry jump. "When I get my hands on those damned Muggles — Harry, I'm not going to hurt you. Am I upset? Yes. But I would never hurt you." Harry slowly uncurled his face red with embarrassment. "I just wish you told me."

"I think it was family magic."

Sirius smiled. "I had a feeling. Is there anything you can tell me?"

Harry wanted to tell him everything. Everything in the journal but when he opened his mouth no words came out.

"I thought not, but it would have helped with understand what is going on."


Arthur stood, dismissing the knights surrounding him. Merlin stepped up to the table gathering the scrolls and parchments the king had left behind. Behind him Arthur fended off last minute questions when Merlin saw out of the corner of his eye Lancelot approach Arthur and offer a formal bow.

"Sir Lancelot," Arthur acknowledged.

"If it pleases you, Your Majesty." Arthur nodded for him to continue. Lancelot motioned for someone at the door and a boy stepped forward. With hands on the boy's shoulders, Lancelot said, "I would like to present my sister's son, Sire. He comes to Camelot to become a squire in hopes he may one day join the ranks of your knights, My Lord."

Merlin could tell the boy was nervous standing before the king. Arthur gave him a reassuring smile and the boy gave a shaky bow. "What is your name?"

"Galahad, Your Majesty."

"Good." Arthur approved, happy with the confidence the boy showed. "What makes you think you make a good knight, Galahad?"

"All I wish, My Lord, is to help those who cannot defend themselves."

Lancelot smiled gently as Arthur nodded again. "It is not easy being a knight and even harder to become one. Are you prepared for that?"

Galahad raised his head to meet the king's eyes. "I am."

Arthur smiled. "Very well. You begin tomorrow. Sir Gwaine." The knight stepped forward, a genuine smile on his face. "You are in need of a squire, are you not?"

"I am, your majesty."

"Would you consent to train young Galahad how to be a knight of Camelot?"

"It would be an honor, my Lord."

Arthur placed his hand on Gwaine's shoulder and Galahad's head. "So mote it be." Offering a congratulatory pat, he said, "Come, Merlin."

Merlin watched as the knights gathered around the trio with congratulations and heavy slaps on the back. Yet Merlin couldn't hep but see the worried look in Lancelot's eyes.

"He worries for his nephew," Arthur said as they rounded the corner.

"Not because of Gwaine," Merlin responded.

"No," Arthur agreed. "Not because of Gwaine."

Merlin chuckled at a sudden thought. "Knowing Lancelot, Galahad won't allow his master to go to the pub so often."

Arthur snorted. "Good, then he won't be late to training because he's hung over." Merlin could only laugh.

… … … …

"Take care of him, Gwaine," Lancelot said as the knight assisted in moving Galahad into Gwaine's quarters.

"You don't even have to ask, Lancelot. I will protect him with everything I have."

Lancelot smiled sadly. "I was hoping that the king would ask you."

Gwaine started and stared at him. "You were?"

Lancelot nodded. "Despite your rakish behavior, you are a good man and I know you will train him to be a good man. Just promise me something? That if anything were to happen to me that, that you would take him in."

"Nothing is going to happen to you."

"You can't know that," Lancelot said.

Gwaine could sense that something was not right with his friend. "Are you alright?"

Lancelot shot Galahad a lingering look. "He's all I have left. His parents…" Galahad looked up as if sensing his uncle's gaze. His look was sad. "Just take care of him."

"You have no worry of that, my friend," Gwaine said reaching our his hand. Lancelot grasped his forearm, a bright smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said.


"Come now, Mr. Potter, its a simple spell. Try it again." Harry tried not to give the matron an annoyed look but from the glare she gave him he didn't quite succeed. He sighed and once again raised his wand. He carefully said the spell and precisely waved his arm. And nothing happened.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Harry swore and very nearly throwing his wand on the bedside table. "I've been able to do this spell since first year! What is going on?!"

"You also nearly depleted you magic barely a month and a half ago. It takes time for those stores to return," Madame Pomfrey explained gently.

Harry slumped onto the bed in frustration. "I know, but it doesn't make it any less annoying."

"Try it one more time and if it doesn't work we'll try again tomorrow. Ultimately what you need is time. Pushing yourself will do more harm than good."

Harry nodded and stood. "Wingardium Leviosa." The feather didn't even budge and this time Harry did drop his wand on the bed in complete frustration. "We've been working on this for days! Why won't the damned thing just levitate!" Before his eyes, the feather started to float until it was directly in front of his eyes until it slowly floated back down. Harry looked between his wand and the feather and sank into the bed, trying to ignore the sudden tiredness that seemed to seep into his bones. "What just happened?"

"Not for the first time with you, Mr. Potter, I have no idea."

"I think I may know." The pair turned to the door way to see a pained looking Morgan Penn standing there. "However, Madame, you can tell no one."