The elven lord looked down at me with amusement.

"Tell me, wizardling. Do you ride?"

I shook my head. "No, uh, sir. Unless you mean a broom?"

ap Nudd roared with laughter. "Do we look like we would ride a broom?"

I looked at his shimmering armour and shrugged. "No, I suppose not."

"We do not have any household cleaning supplies with us, so we must find other arrangements for you. Taran, attend me!"

A slender youth, maybe a few years older than me, rode up on a roan pony. To my surprise, he looked human, although he was dressed in the same medieval style as the elf. "Yes, my lord?"

"Bear our young guest to my halls. We have much to discuss."

The teenager, Taran helped me climb up into the saddle before him. I looked and felt like a small child, in comparison, despite my recent growth spurt.

At least until we started to ride. Then I felt like a sack of potatoes.

I've never been sure how long our voyage took. It felt like hours but seemed over in minutes. However long it took, we soon pulled up to an ancient-looking wooden building. Taran helped me down (chuckling at my discomfort) and directed me to follow the lord.

We entered a wide hall with broad wooden beams that gracefully arced over our heads to support the high ceiling. While it was smaller than the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and certainly more rustic-looking. it felt more majestic, somehow. Elegant men & women in fine clothing sat at long tables to either side, watching us enter.

Lord Gwyn headed towards a dais at the rear of the Hall, taking a seat between two standing hooded figures. Taran entered from a side chamber and handed him a silver goblet. Without further direction, all I could do was stand before him,

"Harry James Potter," he proclaimed, after taking a sip. "We have been petitioned to aid you in your struggles against the so-called Dark Lord."

I blinked. "Thank you, um, my Lord?"

"Normally, we do not interfere in the affairs of mortals, save for our own amusement. But there are other factors at work. One to whose family we owe a debt, and another who gave their all for you."

He motioned to the figures on either side, who reached up to their hoods.

"By Father's Blood, and Mother's Love, their boon has been granted."

The figures took down their hoods, revealing a young man with wild black hair, and a red-headed woman with familiar green eyes. I'd only ever seen them before in photos... and in the Mirror of Erised.

"Mum? Dad?"

I blubbered like a child for the next several minutes as they came down the stairs and hugged me. In my defence, so did they.

Finally, we cried our tears out, and stood before the lord, who had been waiting patiently.

"H-h-how?" I asked brilliantly.

"You stand before Gwyn ap Nudd, Lord of the Otherworld, and King of Ghosts. Calling upon the spirits of those passed is well within our powers."

"I thank you, my lord," I replied.

"Thank me not, young wizard." Lord Gwyn replied, his voice suddenly deepening. "For our aid comes with a cost."

His hair darkened, as did his shining robes. A black tattoo writhed up his neck to cover his left eye.

"Here is thy price, Harry Potter, son of James, son of Lily. Before the moon hath crossed the heavens four and twenty times, you will bring Thomas Riddle, self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort to us for Judgment. Fail us, and his fate will be yours. And we promise thee, it will not be a pleasant one."

I gulped. "Yes, my lord. I understand."

The colour leached from his hair and clothes, and he smiled. "Excellent. We shall leave you to get reacquainted, for your tutoring in the Old Magic begins on the morrow."

Taran stepped down and led us to one of the tables. For the longest time, all we could do was stare at each other, unsure what to say first.

Finally, I just had to break the silence."So, um, Mum? Where are we, anyway? The last I knew, I was still in the Castle.

Before she could answer, a dry voice replied from behind us.

"Under Hill and Under Wave, Live Maidens Fair, and Heroes Brave."

I turned, to see a bald man with a short white beard walk up. He wore a white robe and some sort of golden collar and leaned on a tall black staff.

"Not bad, eh?" he remarked. "I just made it up… I don't get much of a chance to play bard these days."

"I guess?" I replied, shrugging. The newcomer chuckled.

"Hail and well met, Harry," he said, bowing deeply. "Lord Gwyn has asked me to be your tutor. I am Myrddin Wyllt..."

"... you may know me better as Merlin."

My jaw dropped.

"The greatest wizard of all time Merlin? Archenemy of the dark witch Morgana? Were you really a Slytherin?"

I heard my dad laugh behind me as Myrddin smirked.

"In order: Probably. Not really. And no."

"What do you mean?" I replied.

Myrddin pulled up a stool and sat down.

"I'm certainly one of the strongest magicians in the Faerie courts, but I suppose there may be stronger elsewhere. After a while, staff-measuring contests lose their charm."

He waved a serving girl over and grabbed a tankard of something foamy and sweet-smelling. After taking a deep drink, he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand and continued.

"I have no quarrel with Lady Morgen. I did have a slight disagreement with a young lass named Nimue, but after a few centuries of my being trapped in a tree, we worked it out. As for Slytherin... do you remember when I lived?"

I tried to remember what the Chocolate Frog Card said. "During the time of King Arthur. According to my friend Hermione, that was shortly after the fall of Rome. About 500 AD?"

"Off by a bit, but close enough for government work, as an American colleague of mine likes to say," Merlin continued. "And when was your school founded?"

This I knew. "990 AD!" I replied promptly.

"Well done, Harry," Mum murmured, laying a hand on my neck.

"Quite. Now, if I was alive in the 5th century... how could I attend Hogwarts as a boy five centuries later?

"A Time Turner?" I answered lamely.

Myrddin lightly rapped me on the head with his staff.

"Ow!"

"Time doesn't work like that, Harry. And if it did, the world would likely devolve into paradox." Mum said.

"Correct, Lady Potter," continued Myrddin. "The Merlin the Wizarding World reveres was a fae-touched lad named Emrys. One of my countrymen, actually, from Cardiff. He took the name to honour me... I suppose he did an OK job of it..."

"And Morgana?"

Myrddin laughed. "Every Dark Witch calls herself Morgana, or Morgan, or Morrigan! It drives Lady Morgen quite spare, I assure you."

He leaned forward, and stood with a wince, aided by his staff. "But enough with old stories. Tonight you may spend with your folks... your training begins at dawn."

A shiver went down my spine, lessened only slightly by my parents' touch.

What would the morning bring?

My parents and I talked long into the night. It felt strange at first because they were only a half-dozen or so years older than me, but we soon broke the ice. It turned out they'd been watching over me my entire life, through something called a scrying pool, that Mum promised to show me when there was time.

Finally, however, as the torches sputtered out and the hall grew dim, I hugged my parents one last time and got my very first good-night kiss from Mum. Emotionally drained, I followed a young page to an old-fashioned bedroom and collapsed on the plush mattress without even taking off my shoes.

The following morning, I was awoken by a serving girl who brought me a light breakfast of fruit and spring water. She pointed to a pile of clothes that had been brought during the night, giggling when I asked her to leave.

I stripped off my dusty school robes and put on the loose trousers and red tunic, noting offhandedly that the gold trim of the latter meant I was wearing Gryffindor colours. It would not have surprised me if that had been planned... Dad certainly seemed like the sort to make a point of it. The sandals were a bit strange, and I wasn't sure what to do with my wand until I found the belt pouch.

Shortly thereafter, the same girl returned, leading me to a small chamber that was open to the morning breeze, where Myrddin waited. To my surprise, he was in Muggle clothing, specifically a plaid shirt, blue jeans, and stout boots.

"Until I say otherwise, boy, I am your master," he began. "I expect to be addressed as 'sir'. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes, uh, sir."

"I see they've kitted you out," he muttered, setting down a cup of what smelled like coffee. "Silly buggers, really. You should train in the clothes you usually wear so that you feel right. Anyway, let's see what I have to work with, lad. Show me what you've got!"

I reached for the pouch at my waist, fumbling with the leather thongs, before pulling out my wand.

"Hold on!" cried Myrddin. "What are you doing that for?"

I shrugged. "I thought you wanted me to cast a spell? Uh, sir."

Myrddin's eyes widened. "How old are you, boy?"

"Fourteen, sir, as of last June," I replied.

"And you are still using a wand? Whatever for?"

"That's how all wizards cast spells," I replied, wondering if he was hungover or something. "Isn't it? Sir?"

Myrddin pinched his nose. "What are they teaching at that school of yours these days? When I learned magic, we were past crutches like that by our 13th summer!"

I looked at his staff, leaning against a chair. "What do you use that for, then?"

He lowered his hand and grinned at me. "Impertinent, but a good question, lad. Your mother said you were smart. My staff serves three purposes:"

Myrddin held up one finger.

"First, it's useful for aiming. A twig like that, you might as well just use a finger."

A second finger joined it.

"Secondly, I use it as a battery for magical energy. Handy in a pinch."

And finally, he extended his thumb.

"Lastly, there's nothing like Irish blackthorn for giving someone a good thump."

I snorted. OK, that was funny.

"So put that stick away, and let me take a good look at you," said Myrddin. "If I have to start from square one, I need to know your potential."

I did as he asked, standing quietly. He walked over and prodded my arm. "Good muscles there. You aren't afraid of hard work. And James tells me you play that odd game... Kiddish?"

"Quidditch, actually, sir."

"Daft game. Give me a good footy match instead," he muttered. "So let's see what your magic looks like."

He stopped to face me and peered into my eyes. Suddenly, his eyes turned a disconcerting shade of orange, with slit pupils.

"Coc y gath!" he roared, running for the door. He grabbed a passing page and shouted "I need Gwion & Taliesin here, immediately!"

As the boy ran off he called after him "And a chunk of creigrisial!"

Moments later, a young blond boy in a simple white tunic ran in, carrying a piece of clear crystal. He was followed in by an older man, maybe in his forties, with a fierce moustache and a fancy cloak pinned with a brooch in the shape of a harp.

"What do you need us for, old man? You know how dangerous this is!" the young boy asked in a piping voice.

Myrddin nodded. "It can't be helped, Gwion Bach. Young Harry here has been turned into a cawell enaid."

"By the gods... you were right." the man, probably Taliesin, replied. Something about those names tickled my memory, but before I could recall why, the two men had drawn a circle on the ground in some sort of blue paint, added a triangle inside of it, and bodily dropped me in the middle.

"Lie down, lad," said Myrddin, taking the corner by my left foot. The young boy placed the large crystal on my chest before moving over by my right foot. I assumed the other man was behind my head. As one, they began to chant:

"From history to mystery, in constant transition. Three bodies, one soul, in cooperation. Conception, completion, the will of the Faerie. The Morrigan watch me, Arawn defend me."

Then the pain began. I started to scream and didn't stop until I blacked out.

When I came back to consciousness, I was back in bed, but my entire body hurt.

"Hello?" I croaked. Rough hands lifted my head, allowing me to sip from a goblet. The soothing liquid took away some of the pain, and I drifted back to sleep.

I woke to see the sun setting, and Myrddin sitting by my bed, holding onto a chunk of brownish crystal.

"My apologies, lad," he remarked. "I didn't expect it to put up that much of a fight."

"I'm sorry for wasting the day, sir," I replied.

Myrddin shook his head. "We still have time, and I think you might learn faster than you expect."

He tossed the odd rock into the air and caught it again. It looked familiar, somehow.

"What is that, sir?"

"A remnant of a dark act," he replied. "I think I'll see what Gofannon can do with it."

And thus ended my first day of training under the greatest wizard in history.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Coc y gath!" - A rather rude way to denote shock. ;)

creigrisial - rock crystal.

cawell enaid - soul cage.