The Road Ahead
His breathing was laboured, but he managed to duck beneath the blow aimed towards his head. Without wasting any unnecessary energy, Harry swung his blade and caught his foe in the mid-section, only to find two others standing in front of him.
Despite his best efforts to continue defending himself, it was only a matter of time before the numbers advantage became too much for him to overcome.
His sword was knocked from his hand, and he was deftly beating to the ground.
By the time the pummelling stopped, Harry could taste blood in his mouth, and his entire body felt like one enormous bruise.
Nonetheless, he chuckled as he struggled to his feet.
"You cheated."
"All is fair on the battlefield, Harry," Godric returned. "Any man you may find yourself facing will do whatever it takes to live, and that is the very same attitude you need to be prepared to accept. If you have to gouge out someone's eyes to see the next sunset, you take that opportunity."
Harry nodded, wincing as a dull pain radiated around his neck.
For more days than he cared to count, this had been his existence.
Every morning, Godric would set him to task.
They would exercise, they would train with various weapons, and they would even ride horses, something Harry quickly discovered he took to just as well as he had with flying.
Along with this, Godric would teach him magic before sending him on his way, battered, bruised, but better than he had been the previous day.
From there, he was granted enough respite to work on healing his wounds before he would attend classes with the other students for much of the rest of the day.
Three times a week, he would spend time with Rowena, who would often set him what appeared to be the oddest tasks, but never without an insightful reason which he would learn upon completing it.
She was indeed a profound woman, but Rowena Ravenclaw's reputation was well-earned.
Harry found her to be as fascinating as she was incredible with magic and valued every moment he spent with her.
Of course, each of his mentors were invaluable to him.
Both Salazar and Godric pushed him to his limits in their own ways, and Rowena had a way of stretching his mind beyond what Harry had ever thought possible.
She was teaching him how to solve problems, and how to become more attuned with his own magic; a journey that was proving to be exceedingly difficult.
Harry had not made as much progress with the fang and venom as he'd hoped, but quite often now, he was able to find the connection between himself and his wand.
Salazar had assured him he was doing well in his venture, but Harry regularly found himself frustrated with it.
"Before you attend your class with Helga, there is something I wish to discuss with you," Godric declared, pulling Harry from his musings, though he smiled at the thought of attending his next class.
Arithmancy was particularly challenging, but he was beginning to get a grasp of the subject. Runes, however, was something Harry had become rather fond of.
Perhaps it was seeing the markings on Morgana's hand that had sparked his interest, but Harry found the study of the symbols fascinating, and learning how they could be used had been quite the revelation.
He only wished it was something he had chosen when selecting his own further studies at the end of his second year.
"What is it?" Harry asked, taking a deep swallow of water.
"I'm sure you are aware that the rest of the students will be returning home for the summer in only a few days."
"I am."
"Well, I have discussed it with the others, and they agree that it would be most beneficial if you were to see the world outside of Hogwarts."
Harry nodded.
"You and I will spend the summer travelling across Britain, Harry," Godric continued. "We will set off shortly after the students return home, and we will be away for around two and a half-moons. We will be travelling on horseback for the duration, but before then, we will be visiting the village just outside of the school to fetch some supplies. How does that sound?"
It was undeniably an exciting prospect and something that Harry found himself quite looking forward to.
Although it wasn't unusual for him to remain at Hogwarts for most of the year, save for the summer, he found himself yearning to get away from the castle for some time, and Godric had given him the perfect opportunity to do so.
"I think I'd really like that."
"Good," Godric declared, offering him a bright smile. "The others will be giving you work to complete whilst we are travelling, but most of your learning will be when we are on the road. I think you will quite enjoy this. Now, don't you have a lesson with Helga to prepare for? She will be furious with me if you arrive in that state."
Harry nodded and quickly gathered his things.
He had enough time to clean himself up and change into some fresh clothes before he needed to be at the greenhouse, but it was the next thought that stopped him in his tracks.
If he was to be away from the castle for the better part of three months, he wouldn't see Morgana.
Rarely did a few days pass them by that they didn't find themselves in the company of one another. They would mostly sit by the lake and talk, though they did not tend to go into anything too deeply.
In many ways, they had much in common and Harry could see his own habits within the girl.
She was guarded and did not like speaking of her formative years.
Harry knew Morgana had not had an easy life, and just as he did when his years under the care of the Dursleys was mentioned, she remained rather tight-lipped and would quickly change the topic, but not before Harry could see the same haunted look he knew that plagued him.
Morgana would simply smile and brush it off before speaking of things she was comfortable discussing.
In a way, it saddened Harry to see that she struggled to address whatever trauma it was she had experienced, but at the very same time, he knew he was a hypocrite.
Morgana had asked about his life before he'd come to Hogwarts, and in truth, he didn't know what to say.
He couldn't simply explain what had happened to him leading to his arrival, not without divulging everything. And that was not something he was ready to do.
Even now, he was yet to fully come to terms with the changes he'd endured in the past months, and his mind still wandered to what he'd left behind.
How could he expect someone else to understand it if he couldn't?
Not that it mattered so much that it made anything tense between them.
Although they were both equally guarded about their pasts, it did not take much if anything away from their budding friendship.
Despite what others may think of the girl. She'd given Harry no reason to think of her in any way other than what he'd seen.
Morgana was funny, and she had treated him with nothing but kindness.
He wouldn't pretend to understand her ways when it came to magic beyond that the way she practiced it was undoubtedly different to any other he'd met, but he was slowly learning about her approach.
It certainly didn't hurt that she seemed to have a way about her that often took his breath away.
Harry was not so clueless that he couldn't see that Morgana was beautiful, but it was the less obvious things that caught him off guard; how she would move her thick mane of hair away from her face with her hand, or how her eyes would crinkle when she laughed.
It was odd to think of another in such a way.
He'd found himself attracted to Cho, but not in the same way he did Morgana.
She didn't just appeal to him because of the beauty she possessed, but because of everything else that only made her more so.
Not that he would tell her his innermost thoughts.
He wouldn't know where to begin and given how his attempt with Cho had left him rather red in the face, he had no intention of repeating the embarrassment.
Regardless, he already knew he'd miss Morgana whilst he was away and knowing that was the only reservation he had of going.
Would she miss him?
Harry snorted as he shook his head.
She'd spent so much time alone in the forest that she would unlikely even notice his absence, but he would tell her of his plans, nonetheless.
At the very least, she would know why he wasn't around if it did matter to her as much as it did him.
(Break)
Myrddin wouldn't deny that he'd had his reservations about Lancelot Du Lac when he'd first laid eyes on the young man, but it appeared as though he'd been proven wrong in his estimation of just what a boon his friendship to Arthur would be.
Already, Arthur was growing in confidence, and he seemed to be smiling for freely now.
Lancelot was a fierce warrior for one so young, and his dedication to his martial pursuits were inspiring Arthur's own efforts.
They would train together each morning, and even for the rest of the day, the two were seldom out of each other's company.
Myrddin had not considered just how much it would help the young king to have peers of his own age around him and seeing him so relaxed was quite the revelation.
Even when handling the affairs of his subjects, he did so considerately, and sought the advice of those around him less with each passing day.
Often, he'd even hold court without Myrddin being present, but would still send for him if he needed his assistance.
For the wizard, it meant that he felt more comfortable to travel when he felt it necessary to do so and continue his work on setting the foundations for Arthur's kingdom.
That in itself was no easy undertaking, but Myrddin remained confident that when the time was right, Arthur would indeed be the one true king of Britain that all would be proud to serve.
He was.
Although he was still young, Arthur continued to prove himself to be virtuous, just, and strong when it was required of him.
He would need to be.
Myrddin had received many reports over the past moons of other villages being sack by the Danes, and it had certainly kept him occupied in his efforts to repair the damage done.
He certainly could not raise the dead, but he could rebuild the small dwellings, and use memory charms to ensure none remembered those who had perished.
Arthur was not ready to lead a campaign against the many armies he would eventually have to face. No, it was best if Myrddin continued his clandestine work.
Slowly but surely, he'd been placing protections around the country to deter the Danes from continuing the attacks, but as one man, he could not protect all from their wrath.
By all accounts, Cnut was furious at what had happened to Frode, and though the man was not foolish enough to attempt an attack on Camelot itself, the rest of the country was suffering.
Myrddin released a deep breath.
When the time was right, the Danes would be brought to justice, but for now, Arthur needed time to prepare.
In the interim, Myrddin had sent missives to many of the villages up and down the country, imploring them to relocate closer to Camelot, but he had received no response thus far.
So, it seemed as though until word spread widely about the marauding Danes, his work would continue.
Myrddin only hoped that the damage done across Britain would not be too great when Arthur was ready to march, but there truly was no telling how long that would be.
The king needed a true army, and though Myrddin was confident he would obtain one, there was no certainty of when.
"Myrddin, we have just received a scout report."
He turned towards the guard who offered him a tightly rolled strip of parchment.
With a frown, Myrddin opened it.
A band of around one hundred men are on the road to Camelot. They are Britons who speak of an attack of their home in the east. They did not arrive in time to prevent it. Three villages were razed.
Myrddin nodded thoughtfully to himself.
He remembered the attack that had taken place only a moon ago.
It had been little more than a slaughter.
The fighting men of the villages had been away on orders of Guthrum, named after one of his ancestors who'd once claimed East Anglia as his domain.
Myrddin had yet to meet the man, but it was said that Guthrum was an unpleasant ruler, and one that even Cnut was wary of meeting on the battlefield.
He would undoubtedly become an enemy of Arthur's in the years to come, but Myrddin was not concerned about him for the time being.
No, what was more concerning was the approaching force.
One hundred men posed no threat to Camelot, but there was one question Myrddin was pondering.
Could they be swayed to Arthur's side?
(Break)
She watched as Harry carefully continued etching the runes she had tasked him with and fought the urge to snort amusedly as he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
In the sort amount of time he'd been studying the subject, Harry was progressing at an exceptional level.
Helga had not allowed him to carve anything for the first moon or so, not until he could recite various runic arrays and draw them with a quill from memory without incurring any errors.
In truth, she'd expected it would take him much longer to be able to do so, but he'd surprised her with his talent.
The same couldn't be said for his efforts in Arithmancy, but Helga was determined that he would gain a solid grounding in it.
Inevitably, it would prove to be useful in the years to come, but she couldn't deny that she was rather excited about just how competent he would become in his study of runes.
In only a few moons, Harry had reached an ability that would take most at least two years, and he seemed to only progress faster the more he studied.
"Done," he declared tiredly, blowing away the residual dust from the slate he'd been carving.
Helga was taken aback by how quickly he'd finished the task, and as she leaned over to inspect his work, she chuckled before squeezing his shoulder.
"It is perfect," she assured him. "Flawless work, Harry."
He beamed with pride and Helga's smiled widened.
He was beginning to settle into this new way of life.
Sometimes, she would catch him gazing towards the lake, lost in thought, but he certainly didn't seem as down as he had been upon his arrival.
More than that, however, he appeared much healthier.
His skin was no longer sickly pale, and his work with Godric, the potions he'd initially been taking, and eating regularly had undone whatever neglect he'd once been subjected to.
Harry looked like a healthy fourteen year old who took care of himself.
"When is your birthday, Harry?" Helga asked curiously.
"July 31st."
"Not so far away," Helga replied thoughtfully. "Well, since you have finished your task already, you may leave. I expect that you have many preparations to make before you leave the school for the summer."
Harry nodded as he stood.
When he'd packed his things way, he bade Helga a fond farewell, and she could only smile once more at just how well he was doing.
All three of her colleagues spoke very highly of his work ethic, his dedication, and just how much he continued to improve under their guidance.
This was why they had opened the school.
Sometimes, a student would arrive and remind them that their own hard work and dedication was worth the sacrifices each had made.
However, there were others that came that made them question if it was worth it at all.
A handful of faces were those that Helga would never, and though most had either perished or vanished on their foolish quests, one remained.
Myrddin.
Helga remembered teaching the boy and being impressed with him for the years he'd spent in the castle. He'd been closest to Rowena and Salazar, but he'd taken to all of his studies as though he was simply born to do whatever he chose.
Helga could only feel a bitter disappointment when he'd informed them of his intentions, and that feeling had only grown over the years when stories of what Myrddin had done to follow his chosen path had reached them.
Still, it wasn't as though the man would continue unopposed.
If indeed Harry was the one to put a stop to him, then the world would be righted, but Helga was not foolish enough to believe it would be easy.
Rowena spoke often of how much brighter Mars was becoming, and even though Helga did not necessarily understand such studies of the stars above, she did not doubt her friend.
It was seldom that Rowena was wrong about anything, and to her colleague, war was evidently already a foregone conclusion.
(Break)
A storm was brewing.
It was not unusual at this time of year that the high heat would cause such, and Morgana did not anticipate it would be a particularly violent one, but she could feel the forces slowly coming to meet in the sky above.
It would be a few hours yet before the muggy downpour would begin, so she readied herself and headed towards the lake where she would undoubtedly find Harry enjoying the summer evening.
For some reason, he rather liked the lake, even if he often seemed to be conflicted as he looked upon it.
Morgana suspected the way he'd arrived at the castle had something to do with it, but that didn't stop him swimming across the large body of water.
It took considerable endurance to make it to the far side and back again, and that was without the concerning creatures that lie beneath the surface.
Most were docile, but there were those that would not hesitate in engaging someone unsuspecting, especially close to the centre.
Morgana had fended off a few Grindylow attacks over the years and had even felt something else snatch at her ankle, which had vanished before she could get clear look at it.
Harry too didn't seem fazed by anything in the lake, and as she emerged from the treeline of the forest, she was surprised to see that he was sitting on the rock and not cooling off after a busy day.
Morgana frowned as she caught sight of his expression.
It wasn't so often now that he looked sad, but she could see it reflecting off the moonlight.
He didn't even seem to realise she was there until she cleared her throat to get his attention.
Harry immediately smiled at her and Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.
"What is it?" she asked curiously, climbing the rock to take a seat next to him.
He released a deep sigh as he shrugged.
"Nothing bad, well, I don't think it is."
"You don't think it is?"
Harry shook his head.
"The school year will be ending this week," he pointed out.
"You don't have anywhere to go."
"It's not that," Harry said dismissively. "I thought I would be staying here, but it seems the plans have changed."
Morgana frowned and waited for him to continue.
"Godric is taking me travelling with him for the summer."
"Oh," Morgana replied.
It wasn't often, if ever, that she felt a stab of disappointment fill her at the thought of someone leaving.
Truthfully, she'd never cared for anyone enough to be bothered by whether they stayed or not.
Before coming to Hogwarts, she'd spent much of her life attempting to flee wherever she was being kept, and the people watching over her.
Even when she'd made the decision to come to the forest, she'd not been upset at the prospect of never seeing anyone in the castle again.
Now, however, she felt an undeniable sense of impending loss, and Morgana was unsure on how she should handle it.
"Do you want to go?"
Harry nodded and her disappointment only became more prominent.
"Then why do you seem like you don't?" she asked, doing her utmost not to show what she was feeling.
Harry looked towards her and Morgana kept her expression poised.
"Well, I won't see you," he replied, "but then again, you might be grateful for the break," he added with a chuckle.
That wasn't true.
Morgana wanted to tell him that, but she couldn't find the words. Instead, she chose to ease whatever reservations he had of leaving her and nudged him with her shoulder.
"It's only a few months," she pointed out. "I think it is something you should do. Besides, I always have things to keep me occupied. You don't think I've come to rely on your presence, do you, Harry?"
He frowned for a moment before shaking his head and offering her a guarded smile which did not reach his eyes.
"No," he chuckled dismissively. "I don't think that."
"Good," Morgana declared as her gaze shifted towards the sky.
In the distance, she heard a rumble of thunder seemingly echoing the sadness within her.
She didn't want Harry to go, but she had meant what she'd said.
He should go with Godric because it would be an invaluable experience for him, even if it meant that she would have to miss him whilst he was away.
Not that she would tell him that.
Harry didn't need to know that she thought of him often and would watch the sunset knowing that he would be by the lake soon enough.
Sometimes, however, he didn't come, but Morgana wouldn't tell him about the disappointment she felt on those evenings, and from what she'd just learned, there would be many of those to come over the rest of the summer months.
(Break)
It was a rather sorry group of men who eventually emerged from the treeline in the distance around midday, and Arthur's grip tightened around the pommel of Excalibur as he watched their slow approach.
When they made it to around one hundred feet from the gate, he raised his arm, signalling his archers to take aim at the Britons who'd arrived.
"WHO GOES THERE?" Arthur called; his voice more confident than he felt.
"MY NAME IS LEOFRIC. I LEAD THESE MEN AND WE HAVE TRAVELLED FAR FROM EAST ANGLIA TO BE HERE."
"AND WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE?"
"TO SERVE A KING WHO WILL NOT SIT IDLY BY WHILST ARE HOMES ARE DESTROYED."
"What do you think, Lancelot?"
"They look like a bunch of tired heroes," the man murmured. "Even from here I can see their haunted eyes and the weakness in their limbs. They pose no threat to us, my king."
Arthur nodded his agreement.
"HOW AM I TO BE SURE THAT YOU SPEAK THE TRUTH?" Arthur asked the Britons.
Leofric laughed humourlessly as he removed a linen sack from his shoulder.
Upturning it, Arthur swallowed deeply at the sight of three heads thudding to the ground.
"THESE BELONGED TO MY WIFE, MY SON, AND MY DAUGHETR," Leofric declared, his voice shaking with emotion. "WHILST I FOUGHT FOR GUTHRUM…"
He paused and spat on the ground in disgust.
"WHILST I FOUGHT FOR HIM, MY FAMILY WERE SLAUGHTERED BY DANES. DO YOU WISH TO KNOW WHAT GUTHRUM SAID?"
Arthur nodded mutely.
"HE SAID THAT THEY SHOULD HAVE FOUGHT HARDER, THAT NO MAN, WOMAN, OR CHILD COULD BE A TRUE BRITON IF THEY ALLOWED A DANE TO KILL THEM."
Arthur shook his head and felt an anger bubble within him.
"He speaks the truth, Arthur," Myrddin assured him from his left. "I feel the pain of his words and see the truth in his eyes. They are good soldiers who have lost everything in the service of a man who cares not."
Arthur looked towards the heads once more before swallowing the bile that filled his mouth.
"WHA ARE YOUR INTENTIONS, LEOFRIC? SPEAK TRUTHFULLY!"
"I WANT GUTHRUM'S HEAD ON A PIKE, AND I INTEND TO TAKE IT MYSELF!"
"Well, at least he is honest," Lancelot chuckled.
"He is," Arthur agreed. "OPEN THE GATES!"
The drawbridge was quickly lowered and the portcullis raised whilst Arthur made his way into the courtyard of Camelot to meet the men who had travelled the breadth of the country to be here.
Leofric was the first to reach him, and the man took a knee.
"You have my word as a man of God that I will serve you," he said sincerely. "I will slaughter your enemies if you need, and we will farm your lands in times of peace."
Arthur placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"There is no need for kneeling here," he said gently. "Stand, Leofric. You and your men will be fed and watered and we shall find space for you to rest. Please, gather the remains of your family. I would see them buried as per your traditions."
Leofric was taken aback by the hospitality being shown, and he nodded appreciatively as he offered Arthur a tired smile.
"Thank you," he replied quietly. "Your generosity will not be forgotten."
Arthur nodded as he turned towards one of the stewards of the castle.
"See that room suitable accommodation is found, and send for the kitchens to bring food," he instructed. "I'm afraid we do not have enough baths for all of you, but there is a lake close by where you may wash yourselves and your clothes after you have eaten."
Leofric nodded and followed the steward with his men in tow.
"They seem sincere enough," Lancelot declared, his posture relaxing as the portcullis was lowered once more.
"They are," Arthur returned. "You can tell a lot by meeting a man's gaze. Leofric and his men wish only to rest for now, but their thirst for blood will soon return."
"And that will be most useful," Myrddin interjected. "We will need seasoned fighters, Arthur, and they do not come much more seasoned than Leofric and his men. They will be a boon to our efforts, when the time is right."
"When the time is right," Arthur agreed.
He was under no illusion that he was ready to begin his campaign.
His martial training was going well, but he would be expected to cross blades with the most vicious Danes, Saxons, and every other enemy in the land.
That was still some time away, but until then, the preparations would continue.
(Break)
Since he'd arrived, Harry had not even ventured as far as the gates of the school, save for the night he'd briefly left to fend off the dementors in Northumbria.
Today, however, he would be visiting Hogsmeade for the first time, and he was curious to see just how different village was a thousand years before he'd seen it prior.
"I don't foresee there being any trouble, but best to stay close, Harry," Godric urged. "We sometimes we receive some unsavoury characters, even here."
Harry nodded and followed Godric after he opened the gates with a tap of his wand.
For the most part, the road towards Hogsmeade did not appear to be much different.
The path was as well-trodden, and trees lined the way.
Of course, there was no shrieking shack, and Harry could only stare in amazement as they rounded the bend and he got his first look at the famous wizarding dwelling.
Where there had been shops and houses made of bricks, there were smaller wooden buildings, and some of the stores were little more than erected shelters on the side of the road.
The smell of hay and manure was quite prominent, and even a burning smell that Harry couldn't identify.
Despite the differences, Harry could see the foundations of what the village would one day become.
Where The Three Broomsticks had stood was another tavern of sorts, and there was even a man selling confections not so far from where he remembered Honeydukes being.
Although it was not the Hogsmeade he'd become familiar with, Harry recognised the layout of the village and could clearly see the streets he had traipsed along with Ron and Hermione.
"Come, Harry," Godric instructed. "We have much to do. Ah, before I forget."
Harry frowned as the man placed a rather sizeable bag of coins in his hand.
"You earned it," Godric said before Harry could protest. "You've been cutting down trees for firewood and moving them around for months now. Besides, the day you arrived at the school; you became our responsibility. As such, we would not see you going without. That gold is for you to buy whatever you wish. I will take care of our supplies for the trip."
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully.
The words of the man touched him more than being given the gold he held.
Only Sirius and the Weasleys had ever shown any care for him, and to have that once more from Godric and the other Founders was truly invaluable.
"You're welcome. Now, we have a few stops to make, but you will have time to explore anything you wish to peruse."
Harry nodded as he followed the man, and the source of the burning smell was soon revealed to him as he was led into a stifling room filled with smoke.
"Ah, Godric," a gruff, sooty man greeted the Founder with a smile. "It has been a while."
"Karl," Godric returned with a respectful nod. "This is the young man I wrote to you about."
Karl's gaze shifted towards Harry and he grunted as he began circling him.
"Looks like a strong lad," he comment. "Stand up straight, boy!"
Harry did so and Karl continued circling him before gripping his shoulders tightly.
"Aye, he's a strong lad," he declared. "Raise your sword arm."
Again, Harry complied and Karl measured it before humming and disappearing into the thick smoke.
Only a moment later, he returned and placed a sword in Harry's hand.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
"Light," Harry answered honestly.
Karl nodded.
"Ah, I expect Godric here has you swinging those heavy iron swords for practice."
"With a few charms added to make it harder," Godric broke in amusedly.
Karl chuckled.
"Aye, I know you of old, Godric. Well, what do you think?"
Harry nodded as he scowled at the grinning Godric.
"It feels well-balanced."
"Of course it is well balanced," Karl huffed. "I made it. Go on, give it a few swings."
Harry took a moment to experiment with the blade.
Unlike what he was used to, this sword merely felt like an extension of his own arm, and he scowled at Godric once more.
He understood why he would want to make training difficult, but Harry had barely been able to lift his arms for weeks when they'd begun.
"Aye, I think it is perfect," Karl said thoughtfully. "I'll leave the rune carving to you, lad, but is there any design you would like on the pommel? It can be anything you like, within reason."
Harry was unsure what design he would like.
If it weren't for his patronus being a stag, he may have chosen it to honour his father, but Myrddin undoubtedly knew of the ethereal beast that had chased the dementors away.
Wanting to avoid any further word of anyone associating themselves with such a creature from spreading, he decided against it.
Perhaps opting for a shaggy dog would pay homage to Sirius, but his godfather's Animagus form did not suit him.
No, he needed something for himself, and as he pondered it, there was only one thing that came to mind.
"A crow," decided.
"A crow?"
Harry nodded.
The bird reminded him of some of the times he'd spent by the lake with Morgana.
She had an exceptional ability to charm just about any creature she came across, and the very first Harry had witnessed was a crow she had coaxed from a tree.
"Crows are one of my favourites. They're intelligent, protective, and a little mischievous. They almost remind me of you, Harry."
Her words brought a smile to his lips as he nodded once more.
"A crow."
"Very well," Karl declared. "I will need around an hour to carve it, but it will be ready when you return."
"Thank you, Karl," Godric said sincerely. "Come, Harry. We still have much to gather for our journey. We will be back shortly to collect your sword. For now, let us see about getting you your own horse."
"A horse?"
Godric offered him a smile.
"Every man should own a horse," he declared as he ushered Harry from the blacksmith's.
(Break)
It was later than usual that Morgana found herself sitting by the edge of the lake. She wasn't sure that Harry would even come, but that was something she would have to get used to.
She understood that this was indeed an exceptional opportunity for him to learn from one of the very best wizards in the land, though if she was honest with herself, she didn't want him to leave for so long.
She shook her head as she picked a flower and began idly removing the petals.
Morgana didn't know how long she sat brooding before she heard the approaching footprints, but she quickly schooled her features and disposed of the remains of the flower as Harry rounded the bend.
He smiled at her as he approached.
"I didn't know if you'd be here."
Morgana shrugged.
"I usually am."
She noticed his hand resting on the pommel of a sword he wore around his waist, and a smirk tugged at her lips.
"You got your first sword."
"I did," Harry replied as he drew it and offered it to her.
Morgana took it in hand and admired the craftmanship, pausing as her gaze passed over the intricate crow carved into the end.
"A crow?"
Harry nodded sheepishly.
"It reminds me of you."
Morgana unwittingly smiled and shook her head.
"You want something to remind you of me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Morgana eyed him for a moment to see if he was teasing, but Harry seemed sincere.
With a nod, she reached behind her neck and untied the strip of leather that held her necklace together. Removing it, she looked at the tooth hanging in the middle before gesturing for Harry to turn around.
He did so, and she fastened it around his neck.
Looking down, he took the tooth in his hand.
"It is from a wolf of sorts," Morgana explained. "I found it embedded in the skull of a deer."
"That must be a big wolf," Harry commented.
Morgana nodded.
"Bigger than any I've read about, but I've not seen it."
"I don't think it would be a good thing to run into it," Harry snorted.
"Are you worried I might get eaten?"
"No," Harry chuckled. "I'd be more worried for the wolf."
Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him and Harry held a hand up.
"I have something else to show you, if you don't a short walk."
"To where?"
"You'll have to trust me," Harry replied with a grin.
Morgana frowned at him, but she followed nonetheless as he made his way towards the castle, though he turned towards a group of trees on the far side of the grounds.
"The stables?"
Harry nodded but said nothing else, and only a few moments later, they entered the large outbuilding.
"There."
Harry was pointing to a large dappled grey horse, one that was already large for a creature that was still growing.
"A shire."
"A shire." Harry confirmed. "He needs a name."
"You want me to name your horse?"
"I do."
Morgana looked between Harry and the large mount, but before she could speak, he placed something in her hand before closing her fingers around it.
"You don't have to decide now," he murmured, offering her another smile before patting the horse and leaving the stables.
When he was gone, Morgana opened her hand and could only shake her head.
At first, she thought he'd returned her necklace, something that would've disappointed her, but she quickly realised that the one she held was not her own.
Instead of a tooth, there was a small black feather encased in amber, and she immediately tied it around her neck to replace the one she'd given Harry, truly realising just how much she would miss him when he was gone, even if it was only for a few moons.