Departure
"Either I have gotten old or you have gotten better," Godric chuckled as Harry pulled him to his feet.
"You'll outlive us all," Harry returned, carefully knocking the dust from Godric's robes before returning his sword to him.
Godric chuckled and patted the young man on the shoulder affectionately.
"You are too kind, Harry," he sighed, "but in this instance, you are right. I feel as strong and limber as I did twenty-five years ago. You have just gotten better over the past three years you have been here."
"Only because of you and the others," Harry snorted. "I have the scars to prove it."
"You earned those scars, Harry, every last one of them."
He had.
Comparing the boy he'd find unconscious on the shore of the like and the man before him now, Godric could see so few similarities, save for the same messy hair and vibrant green eyes.
Harry's journey had indeed been exceptional, one of trial and tribulation, but one of growth and triumph.
Godric could not put into words just how proud his was of his protégé.
He might belong to Salazar's house, and the man himself would claim Harry as his own, but Godric had imparted everything he could onto the boy, helping mould him into the man he found himself looking upon.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
Godric smiled sadly.
"It will not be long before you leave us."
"It won't," Harry agreed. "We both knew this day was coming."
Godric nodded.
"You'll be the last one I leave behind," Harry comforted.
"How so?"
"Because you will be coming with me to Godric's Hollow, won't you? I think we deserve one last little adventure together before you are too old for it."
"We do," Godric murmured. "So, you still intend to go there?"
A part of Godric had hoped that Harry would change his mind, that he would try to live a life of peace. Even if such a notion was foolish, he'd held onto that hope.
Harry nodded.
"I don't know what I will find, or even what I'm looking for, but I feel as though it is the right place for me to be. Maybe it has something to with Myrddin, or maybe it doesn't. Ever since Ignotus Peverell came here, it has been something I cannot ignore."
"I know, Harry," Godric sighed. "I just wish the world was a much better place for you."
"I suppose it is my job to make it so," Harry said with a shrug. "It was always going to be me and Riddle in the end if I hadn't been brought here. Now, it will likely be me and Myrddin. This is what you've been preparing me for, isn't it?"
"It is, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."
"I would question how much you care about me if you did."
Godric chuckled as he shook his head.
"You should never doubt that, Harry. You are nothing less than a son to me."
"A son that you have taken much joy in beating to a pulp."
"Life does have its perks."
Harry laughed heartily, and Godric marvelled at just how well he had learned to cope with all that lay ahead of him.
The world was indeed an unpleasant place; something both had seen for themselves.
The two summers following Ignotus's visits, they had once again ventured away from the castle, only to see a country in a state of severe decline.
Those who claimed to be rulers across the land were preparing for war.
The skirmishes amongst the kingdoms had all but ceased, but it was nothing more than the calm before an exceedingly violent storm, just a lull whilst those who desired to gain or retain their power consolidated their resources.
Soon enough, someone would make a fateful move, and the landscape of Britain would change forever.
Harry would undoubtedly find himself amongst it all, likely at the very centre, and it was something that would never sit right with Godric.
He truly had come to love the boy as one of his own children, and he knew the other Founders were dreading the day he would leave them with the very same trepidation.
"Come on, cheer up, you old sod," Harry urged. "We get to be on the road together again. "I thought you enjoyed that."
"I do," Godric assured him, "but the road back home for me will be a lonely one," he added, gesturing to the grounds around them.
"I'll arrange a portkey."
Godric shook his head.
"You know what I mean, you insolent boy."
"I do," Harry said with a grin, "but it is not as though I will be gone forever. I will visit regularly enough."
"To see a certain someone more than the rest of us."
"That's not entirely true," Harry defended, "but she would be quite furious if I didn't come back frequently. I have no intention of pissing her off."
"Because you have grown to be an intelligent man," Godric chuckled, "and she terrifies you."
"I wouldn't say terrify, but she certainly makes me consider my choices very carefully."
"As any good woman should. You still remain, at times, a reckless fool."
"Then we are more similar than I thought."
Godric narrowed his eyes at the grinning man.
"You spend too much time with her. She has a sharp tongue too."
"And much sharper blades and a snappy wand to hand."
Godric let out a bark of laughter.
"That she does, but I think she is good for you."
"Not this again," Harry huffed.
"Why are you so against it?"
"I'm not discussing this with you."
"Will you discuss it with her?"
"Discuss what?"
Godric shook his head.
"The fact that you are in love with one another."
"Is that what you think?"
"It is what anyone with a pair of eyes knows, Harry."
"Maybe you are all blind."
"Perhaps it is you who remains blind, or just ignorant. The two of you are all but married already."
"No we are not."
"Harry, she makes your clothes, cooks most of your meals, and tends to your wounds. Almost every night for the past few years, you somehow find yourselves in each other's company. You do not have to admit it to me, but you should admit it to yourself. You love the girl."
"Of course I love her," Harry sighed.
"Then don't you think you should tell her?"
"That I love her?"
"Everything, Harry. If there is anyone you will ever meet in life who deserves to know everything, it is her."
Harry swallowed deeply.
"I know," he said quietly. "I've almost told her several times, but I've just not been able to. Maybe it's because she either won't believe me or she'll think that I've taken leave of my senses. I don't know, Godric. Maybe it's just been easier to pretend that it is all of this that has kept us from one another."
Godric nodded and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"You remain a damned fool at times," he chided lightly. "It won't matter to her. Harry, I remember that girl when she first came here, and I couldn't have imagined for a moment that I would see her become so deeply fond of anyone as she has you. If you knew her then, you would see it for yourself. I cannot tell you what you should or shouldn't do, but you now have my thoughts on the matter."
"I know, and I am always grateful for them," Harry said appreciatively. "Another round?"
"I do not think my old bones could handle it," Godric chuckled.
"Then how about a drink?"
Godric nodded.
"A drink sounds better to me."
(Break)
"There remains no movement from any, Myrddin. Even Guthrum has not left his kingdom. He is using the sea to supply himself."
Myrddin hummed thoughtfully.
Save for Strenger and the activities of his group up and down the country, all seemed to have come to a standstill.
It had been that way for many moons now, and though Myrddin was grateful for the time to prepare Arthur for his campaign, it was most concerning that a tense peace had fallen across Britain.
"And what else of Guthrum? Have you managed to substantiate whether or not he is using magicals?"
"I cannot be certain," one of Myrddin's spies replied irritably. "He has undoubtedly been rounding them up, but whether or not he is killing them is another matter entirely. No one is permitted to enter his kingdom without prior leave to do so."
"He is paranoid."
"And rightly so," the spy returned. "We are all surrounded by enemies, and something will have to give. Guthrum is being as careful as any other. He just has the resources and men to pose a true threat to any other."
"And yet, no other joins him."
"Most would sooner die than join him, or anyone else. Danes, Britons, and Saxons are all proud people, just as much as the Celts and others who call this land their home."
"Their pride and stubbornness will prove to be there downfall. Do keep me informed of anything, even if it seems unimportant."
"Of course."
With a nod, Myrddin vanished and reappeared in his quarters at Camelot.
The past few years had been trying in many ways but had certainly not lacked in triumph.
Arthur was truly thriving, and with the other false kings having fallen all but silent, he'd been granted the opportunity to look after his own lands, and even enjoy his wedded bliss.
Thus far, Guinevere seemed to be conducting herself well enough, but Myrddin was still not fooled by the queen.
She still possessed an enviable cunning, and though she seemed to care for Arthur, the way she did so was not comparable to the love the king had for her, so much so, that he remained blind to her flaws.
Still, all Myrddin could do was watch her closely so that she could not deceive the king.
He shook his head as he left his quarters and made his way to the throne room, where the chair itself was scarcely used.
Arthur had chosen to conduct the business of his affairs seated at the table that had once belonged to his father, surrounded by the men he trusted most.
Of course, Lancelot was amongst them, along with Sir Gawain, Gaheris, and Tristan.
In the intervening moons and years, they'd been joined by Sir Bors, a man perhaps more brutish than Gawain, and Sir Percival, both men having come from Mark's kingdom seeking answers as to what had happened to their monarch.
Arthur had appreciated the candid boldness of the men, and eventually, they had come to accept his ruling.
Mark had been allowed to return to his home, though he was now bereft of his kingly title.
Instead, he was granted a paltry force and served as a castellan to Arthur, after, of course, being banned from consuming anything that would leave him inebriated.
By rights, Arthur could, and perhaps should've executed the man, and those loyal to Mark were made aware of that upon his release.
Still, little more progress had been made in adding further territories to his own, and although Arthur was on good terms with many of the kings who had visited Camelot to attend his wedding, Myrddin expected that such a cordiality was not destined to laugh when Arthur began his campaign to unite Britain as one.
"My King," Myrddin greeted Arthur with a bow.
"What news, Myrddin?" Arthur asked.
"Very little, and nothing of concern," Myrddin assured him. "No armies are marching, and there is no pressing threat to your lands."
Arthur nodded.
"Aye, we will be the pressing threat," Bors declared, slamming a drunken fist stop the table before polishing off his skin of ale.
Myrddin was certain he'd never seen the man sober, but his bravery was indeed something that could not be called into question.
Despite how many times Lancelot bested Bors in the training yard, he'd never declined a challenge from the better swordsman.
Bors was an excellent warrior in his own right, and his duels with Gawain, and even Arthur from time to time, were becoming something of legend.
These would, however, become mere footnotes in the history of the rightful king, and as Myrddin watched him hold court with his most loyal men, he felt a sense of pride swell within.
These men, and others yet to come, would shape Britain in the coming years, and it would begin soon enough.
Arthur was almost ready to lead his army to conquer the false kings.
It would take years to do so, and much blood would inevitably be spilled, but Myrddin was left in no doubt that Camelot, and the name of Arthur Pendragon, would forge a lasting legacy for centuries to come.
(Break)
It was something of unending and perpetual sadness that had plagued her these past moons. The days and weeks had seemingly flown by, and though Morgana had never felt so close to Harry, she'd never felt him being pulled further away from her.
He'd not said as much, but Morgana knew that he would be leaving her soon. She could feel it plaguing every fibre of her being.
She understood that he would not simply remain in the grounds of the castle, or even living in the forest with her.
Harry undoubtedly had a calling beyond Hogwarts, Morgana just wished she knew what it was.
As things were, she remained in the dark to his intentions, to what lie beyond the gates of the school awaiting him.
She'd pondered all she did know about him, and all that had happened since his arrival, and yet, she could not fathom how life could be so unfair to take him from her, perhaps permanently.
She looked upon the two fairies the eerie Lady in the Lake had gifted her.
They remained in the phial, which still showed no sign of yielding; watching her closely, their glows as bright as they had been the night she'd received them.
With a sigh, she left the grove of trees that her home had rested in for the better part of the last few years and made her way to the lake.
Harry was already waiting for her, his gaze firmly on the moon above, and his eyes were full of the same sadness Morgana felt.
"You're leaving."
He swallowed deeply as he nodded.
"Soon."
"Why?"
It was a simple question, but there would be no simple answer.
There never was when it came to Harry, and he laughed humourlessly before turning to look at her.
"Because I have to," he sighed.
"Do you?"
Morgana wasn't sure if it was the nod of confirmation or his expression of heartache that made her own feel it was filled with lead, but it didn't matter.
Harry would be leaving soon.
"Maybe I should've explained things sooner," he murmured, "before…"
He broke off and Morgana shook her head.
"Before what?"
"Before you became the most important thing in my life."
His words left her lost for her own, but Morgana's heart soared for the briefest of moments before reality set in once more.
"Then why are you going?"
Her voice sounded weak, and there was a vulnerability to it that she'd not intended to show.
"Because I was brought here for a reason beyond my own happiness," Harry answered with a sad smile. "The stars have plans for me that I want no part of but will inevitably be pulled into. I would much prefer to be on the front foot for them than live a lie I cannot maintain."
"I think you've lost me," Morgana said confusedly.
Harry chuckled once more.
"Then maybe I should start from the beginning," he suggested. "I've thought of how I can tell you everything you should know, but being here now makes all of the damned things I thought sounded good in my head as pathetic as my explanation will inevitably be."
Morgana nodded and waited with bated breath.
Was Harry truly going to tell her everything, to answer the plethora of questions that had come up over the past few years that she could not hope to answer herself?
Now that she was here, Morgana wasn't sure if she wanted the truth, but as Harry began speaking, she knew it was too late to offer an objection.
"My name is Harry James Potter," he said almost proudly. "I was born in the year 1981, around a thousand years from now. It was the Lady of the Lake who brought me here a little over three years ago with the intention that I would be the one to stop Myrddin Emrys from doing what he is."
In a single sentence, Morgana felt that her head had been thrown through a loop of shock and disbelief.
Were it not for the grim bitterness in Harry's tone, perhaps she would think him to be playing an elaborate joke as he was wont to do, but such a thought was abandoned quickly.
No, Harry was not joking, and the worry in his eyes was palpable.
In truth, Morgana did not how to respond to such a revelation, but fleeing from the man before her did not cross her mind.
Instead, she carefully approached him and released a deep breath.
"Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me everything."
The words continued to fall from his mouth, and though only more and more questions came to mind as he spoke, Morgana did not interrupt him. She allowed Harry to unburden himself, and as he told his story, she realised just how much he'd endured beyond what little she had known about him.
He spoke of a Dark Lord, murderous plots, his time at Hogwarts and how fraught with danger it had been for him, the godfather and friends he'd left behind, and even the unpleasant family he'd grown up with after the death of his parents.
By the time he explained the tournament he'd been a part of and how he'd found himself here in this moment, he'd tired himself both physically and emotionally.
Morgana did not know how long he'd spoken for, but the sun was beginning to rise over the lake, and though she did not know what to say in response to the fantastical tale she'd heard, she knew what Harry needed in this moment.
Truthfully, she needed it too, and without a moment of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, not knowing how she felt about all she'd heard, but not doubting what she felt for the young man she held so closely.
If anything, the feelings she'd been developing for him over the years had only grown, and Morgana did her utmost to make Harry feel that through the way she squeezed him so dearly.
For now, she had no words to give through the shock and emotion of the moment they'd shared, but it didn't matter. They were not necessary nor would they say any more than her holding him to her could.
Harry had opened up to her, and Morgana understood why he hadn't been able to before.
His life had been quite something indeed and would only become much more so.
"I have something I want to give you," she murmured thoughtfully. "Not now, but before you leave."
"A gift?"
Morgana nodded.
"You will see when it is ready," she assured him. "Want to go for a fly?"
He looked at her questioningly and Morgana gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Everything will be okay, Harry," she whispered. "You're not alone in this, but for now, I'd just like to fly with you for a while. Do you mind?"
He shook his head, and Morgana watched as transformed into a crow before taking to the sky with a loud squawk.
It had taken around a year after he'd created his new wand for him to complete his first transformation, and Morgana could not help but think that she had somehow influenced his inner animal.
Not that she was complaining.
He made for a magnificent crow, and being in the air seemed to be as natural for him as being on the ground.
Besides, no matter how he was feeling, flying gave him a momentary freedom from the mind that could often be a prison for him, and Morgana had not lied.
She enjoyed flying with Harry.
They could both be free for a while and unburdened by everything else.
With a sad smile, she too changed into a crow and followed him into the air, basking in the glow of the rising sun as she gave chase to the bigger bird who goaded her with another squawk.
(Break)
"Your preparations are almost complete."
"They are," Owain confirmed. "News has reached us that they will soon come from across the sea. I expect them to reach us in the next two or so moons."
Ignotus nodded gravely, though a smirk of anticipation tugged at his lips.
"You have been doing that a lot recently, father," Owain huffed. "You know something that I do not."
"I know much that you do not," Ignotus returned.
"But this is something pertinent."
"I believe so."
"You believe so?"
"It is just a thought, but quite mysterious one. Were it not for what I had seen myself, I would not believe it. My experiences in life have taught me to never doubt my instincts or assume that we hold any true power when it comes to the nature of magic. Time and again, it proves us to be mere mortals whilst it lives on forever in a seamless, endless gateway that we cannot hope to understand."
Owain frowned questioningly.
"What are you not telling me?"
"Many, many things, some of which you will learn for yourself when the time is right, and others, you may never have need of knowing."
"You remain as mysterious and frustrating as any magic you speak of," Owain grumbled.
Ignotus chuckled amusedly and held up a hand.
"I confess that you are right, my son, and for that, I can only apologise. I have seen much throughout the years, the best and worst of magic, and yet, I have witnessed something else I would never have fathomed until I did."
"What did you see?" Owain asked curiously.
"Another Peverell."
"Another Peverell?"
Ignotus nodded.
"I had perhaps thought that he may be an unknown child of your uncle Antioch, but no, he is not."
"Cadmus?"
"Cadmus only ever loved one woman."
"One of yours?"
"I can assure you, Owain, that your mother was the only woman I ever loved, and I never strayed from the vow I gave her. No, this Peverell is young, around five years or so younger than you."
"So, where did he come from?"
"I do not know," Ignotus murmured thoughtfully, "but that is neither here nor there. It is where he is going that matters most."
"And that would be?"
"Here," Ignotus said with a smile. "Soon enough, he will arrive here."
"Am I to kill him?"
"Kill your own kin?"
"But if he isn't your son, or that of Antioch and Cadmus, then he cannot be kin."
"But he is," Ignotus saif with certainty. "I do not know how, but his blood and magic called to me when I laid eyes upon him, and I expect it will when the two of you meet. He is a Peverell through and through, even if he doesn't carry our name."
"What name does he carry?"
"Potter."
Owain quirked an eyebrow at his father.
"As in the Potterers?"
"The very same."
"Then he is no Peverell but a Potter."
"Why can't he be both?"
Owain frowned for several moments before shaking his head.
"I am afraid that I am lost and confused."
"As am I," Ignotus chuckled, "but my eyes and blood did not deceive me. We will welcome him, Owain, and perhaps we will one day learn his story."
Owain nodded.
"We will welcome him," he agreed.
(Break)
"You know, I've come to dread this day coming," Salazar murmured unhappily.
Godric nodded his agreement.
"As have I, but we knew he would eventually have to leave. Harry has a destiny to fulfil, and that cannot be done if he is shielded by us."
"You mean Helga," Salazar chuckled.
Godric snorted amusedly.
"She is perhaps the closest thing to a Mother Harry has had since he lost his own."
Helga had indeed become very maternal towards Harry.
Not a week went by that she wouldn't drag him to the greenhouses to check on him, under the guise of asking for his help. Harry was not so foolish to believe she truly needed it, but he'd never made an excuse not to go.
He adored Helga, well, he adored all of them, but Helga had always been the one to just spend that little extra time with him without feeling the need to teach Harry or even discuss magic.
It was Helga who had become everything Harry needed away from the classroom, and Salazar did not doubt that she was taking his impending departure badly.
"How many times do you think she will cry?"
Godric grinned as he shook his head.
"She won't stop," he sighed.
Salazar nodded his agreement.
Rowena would undoubtedly miss Harry too, but after what had happened to Helena, she'd never quite been the same.
She felt as though she'd failed her daughter, and it was a fear of seeing what happened to Helena repeated with Harry.
Rowena had always had her troubles, but they were undeniably heavier now.
It didn't help that Strenger had seemingly gotten away with it.
Several times over the past few years, both Godric and Salazar had visited the continent in the hopes of finding the man to bring him to justice, but Strenger had vanished without a trace.
None had seen nor heard from him; something that continued to frustrate Salazar whenever he pondered it.
"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"
Salazar hummed.
"We will find him," Godric said firmly. "He cannot run forever, and when we catch him, we will string him up by his balls."
Salazar tutted, though he did not disagree with the sentiment.
Strenger deserved nothing less than the most unpleasant of deaths.
"When will you be leaving?"
"The day after tomorrow."
"So soon?"
"Harry is eighteen now, Salazar. I don't think he is eager for the fight ahead…"
"But he is keen for it to be over," Salazar murmured. "What do you think?"
"I think Harry will learn much along the way, both good and bad, but he will be victorious in the end. I truly believe in him, Sal."
Salazar nodded.
"As do I," he said sincerely.
Harry had indeed come so far these past few years, much further than any of the Founders could have anticipated.
Day in and day out, he'd dedicated himself to being better than he was yesterday, and he'd become something rather special, even if he couldn't see it yet.
Godric had done a sensational job of training him for any possible battle he might find himself in, Salazar had taught him all he could of the Mind Arts, of Dark Magic, and how to use his parseltongue to great effect.
Rowena had drilled so much magical knowledge into Harry that Salazar was surprised his head had not exploded, and she'd ensured he was ready for any magical dilemma or problem he'd be confronted with.
Helga had imparted her own wisdom onto the boy, so, Salazar truly believed that if there was anyone capable of stopping Myrddin in his foolish endeavours, it would indeed be Harry.
Nonetheless, his success was not promised.
Harry had become an excellent wizard under their tutelage, but it would be outside of the castle that he truly learned what he would need to emerge the victor in the inevitable fighting to ensue.
Salazar believed in Harry with his heart of hearts, but Myrddin Emrys was an incredibly gifted wizard, and perhaps there was no other in history who had been born with such natural brilliance.
Still, Salazar would not doubt Harry.
Somehow, the young man found a way to survive when the odds were stacked against him, and somehow, he would do so again.
Salazar dared not think otherwise or ponder what would happen if he failed in the task bestowed upon him.
(Break)
Morgana could not remember a time that she'd ever felt more nervous about something she intended to do.
She'd checked her work time and time again, but it was not the magic of what she would be undertaking that made her so anxious.
Perhaps she was worried what Harry's reaction would be when he learned of it, or maybe it was that she'd never considered anything like this until the idea had come to her upon Harry confirming he would be leaving Hogwarts.
Morgana could not be certain, but so much of what would come, if Harry agreed, were things she'd never confronted before now.
Releasing a deep breath, she checked her work a final time before making her way to the shore of the lake for what would likely be the last time for quite a while.
Harry had assured her he would visit regularly, but once again, Hogwarts would not be the same without him.
She'd considered insisting that she went along with him, but Morgana knew that she was not ready for such a venture.
Perhaps soon enough she would be, but she was not done here.
Even the thought of leaving the forest for longer than a few moments rested uneasily with her magic, so, as much as she would like to go with Harry, every fibre of her being was telling her that it was not time to do so.
Nonetheless, if what she planned came to fruition, it was not as though he would be without her, nor her him.
Magic truly was a wondrous thing.
It had somehow brought Harry to Morgana, despite such a thing being seemingly impossible.
She had still not quite come to terms with all she'd learned.
Morgana had asked question after question about Harry and the life he'd led before coming here, and much of what he'd said pertained to things she could not comprehend.
He'd described a world of enormous cities, where horses were not used so freely, and a place where humans, both magical and muggle, existed in the tens of millions in a single country.
Morgana could not fathom such a thing, but in truth, it did not matter to her.
She would not live to see a world, and from what she'd heard from Harry, she didn't wish to.
"That's a thoughtful expression."
She jumped at the sound of his voice, but Morgana smiled as she looked upon Harry, though the nervousness she'd managed to push aside for but a moment returned quickly.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Morgana shook her head.
"Nothing is wrong," she assured him.
"But you're nervous."
Morgana swallowed deeply.
"I am."
"Why?"
She shrugged, not knowing what made her so anxious about what was to come.
She knew she would not regret it, and perhaps in the moment, it truly would be the most incredible experience. For now, however, the anticipation brought questions to mind she did not wish to consider.
It was better to just do what she intended and hope it went as well as she intended.
"Come," she urged, taking him by the hand.
Harry said nothing as she led him towards the clearing near her home, but he paused as they reached it.
"What is this?" he asked curiously, his gaze sweeping across the man candles that had been lit before they came to rest on the series of runes Morgana had painstakingly created.
"My gift," she answered quietly.
Harry continued to stare at the runes for several moments.
"What is it?"
Morgana released a deep breath as she checked her work a final time.
"The protection your mother gave you when you were a baby is really powerful magic, Harry," she explained. "I don't think I have encountered anything as powerful, but it is limited to only protecting you from him. I want to be able to give you my own protection. It won't be as powerful as your mother's…"
"But it will protect me from more than just Riddle."
Morgana nodded.
"I've never used a ritual like this. It will take something special and irreplaceable to make it work as I want it to."
Harry frowned for a moment.
"Sacrificial magic."
Morgana nodded.
"It is a sacrifice, but one that I am more than willing to give, if you are willing to accept it. I need you to trust me, Harry."
"It won't kill you, will it?"
Morgana shook her head.
"Absolutely not, but you must understand the magic before you agree. It will not harm either of us. If anything, it will become a special bond that we share. If I am right, it will afford you some protection and will give me the same."
"Why do I feel that there is more? You wouldn't be so nervous if it was so simple."
Morgana snorted to herself.
She realised that it wasn't the magic nor what it might do that made her nervous, but something else entirely.
"I'm not nervous about it possibly going wrong," she murmured.
"Then what are you worried about?"
"That you will say no."
"Why would you worry about that?"
Morgana swallowed deeply.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, but she knew there was no way she would try to dismiss what all of this meant. It was not easy to do so, but she knew she needed to adopt a little of the boldness she'd seen in Harry.
"Because if you say no, it might just break my heart."
It was the most candid thing she'd ever said, and though she'd only done so to be honest, her words physically struck Harry.
He looked almost hurt at the very thought of such a thing, and when he met Morgana's gaze, there was something so pure about the way he looked at her.
"I would never do anything that would hurt you."
"Then you will trust me?"
"With my life."
It was all she needed to hear and she took his hand once more and led him to the largest array of runes she had created. Placing them both in the very centre, she drew a simple yet sharp knife.
"You need to carve the symbol on me," she whispered, placing it into Harry's hand. "I will do the same for you."
He looked uneasy at the task, but Morgana gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.
"You can do it," she assured him. "It won't hurt me."
"What symbol?"
Morgana smiled at the innocent question.
"The protection symbol."
Harry nodded, though he hesitated for a moment before beginning to carve the symbol into Morgana's right palm, one of the very few spaces she had yet to carve herself.
As ever, it stung slightly, and the blood began to flow freely, but she did not make a whimper as he set about the work.
It took only a few moments until he was done, and Morgana prevented him from sealing the fresh wound.
"Not yet," she instructed. "Now I do it for you."
He neither winced nor gave any indication of discomfort as she repeated the process, and soon enough, Harry too bore the protective mark which bled, staining his hand and the sleeve of his tunic a macabre red.
"What now?" he asked.
"We connect our hands."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"Very," Morgana said with a smile, "but we do not mean each other any harm, do we?"
Harry shook his head and raised his hand.
Morgana felt no hesitation to grasp it, and as she did so, a powerful wave of magic washed over the grove of trees, drawing the two of them closer to one another.
It was quite the overwhelming experience, and like nothing she'd ever felt before now.
For how long they stood there locked together, Morgana couldn't be certain, but eventually, the magic ebbed away to a tolerable thrumming.
"That was quite something," Harry murmured.
Morgana nodded as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"That was just the magic answering the plea," she replied. "It's barely even begun."
"So, what happens now?"
Morgana swallowed deeply and her tongue suddenly felt heavy in her mouth.
"The sacrifice," she whispered, releasing Harry's hand and divesting herself of her dress.
His eyes widened, and once more, Morgana felt a vulnerability she'd never expected to experience.
They had swum together from time to time in the lake, and frustratingly, Harry had been nothing but completely respectful of her whilst she'd dressed or undressed, averting his eyes just enough to be considered decent.
Now, however, he could do no such thing, and Morgana found herself firmly under his gaze.
The magic would work as she'd intended.
What she felt for Harry would give him another layer of protection in the world outside the castle, and to her, it didn't matter if it only worked for him.
Love was one of the most powerful conduits of magic, and the love she had for him would make him stronger.
"W-what are you doing?" he stammered.
"Protecting you," Morgana choked.
She didn't feel the first tear roll down her cheek. She was too focused on the moment at hand to pay it any mind, and though Harry could be woefully ignorant of such things, he could not ignore this.
"Why? Are you sure about this?"
"Love is a powerful thing, Harry," she answered. "To me, it isn't truly a sacrifice, but the sanctity of what I want to give is as powerful a sacrifice as anything a woman can give. There is magic in everything, Harry, especially in such purity."
The way he looked at her when she'd finished speaking was with such an intense array of emotions that his gaze overwhelmed her more than the magic that continued to permeate the air around them.
"Don't think about it," Morgana urged, cupping his cheek with her bloodied. "There is nothing to think about when I want to give it to you so willingly."
She kissed him, and as their lips came together in such a tender gesture, Morgana lost herself in him.
There was no hesitation, no reluctance from either of them, and with every beat of her heart, the magic in the air only grew stronger.
Before she could comprehend all that was happening in the moment, she was looking into his eyes and caught a flicker of worry in them.
Both were smeared with blood from where their hands had roamed so freely, but it only added an odd beauty to the intimate moment.
In response to his worry, Morgana leaned up and caught his lower lip between her teeth, encouraging him to proceed.
As he did so, she let out a whimper as a sharp, searing pain caught her off guard, but it subsided quickly, giving way to a euphoria no other magic had provided.
She felt it.
In every fibre of her being, the gift she had given had been returned in equal measures, and her final conscious thought before she lost herself entirely in the moment was that this truly was no sacrifice on her part, but a shared demonstration of the love that had grown between them.
(Break)
"You know, dawdling isn't going to stop him from leaving," Salazar chuckled as Helga hesitated to leave the castle.
"It might," the woman said stubbornly.
Salazar gave her shoulder a squeeze and led the four of them down the stone steps, pausing as he reached the bottom.
Godric felt it too, and undoubtedly, so did the others.
"What is that magic?" Rowena asked.
Salazar laughed amusedly, and Godric merely shook his head in response.
Not having been in a marriage filled with an semblance of love, Rowena would not recognise it, but Helga's cheeks had reddened considerably.
"It is so strong," Rowena whispered as she drew her wand, inevitably curious to its origins.
Godric placed a hand on her forearm to prevent her from her investigation and shook his head.
"You should refrain from doing that," he advised, shuddering as another wave of the powerful magic passed through the grounds of the school.
"Why?"
Godric only chuckled in response as he nodded towards the forest where a dishevelled Harry was emerging from the trees.
"Oh," Rowena whispered dumbly, eliciting a bout of snickering from the others.
"It is powerful," Salazar observed. "As powerful as anything else I have felt."
"And this is the aftermath," Godric said embarrassedly, unable to look Harry in the eye as he reached them.
To all of them, despite having taking manhood in his stride, he would always be that lost, broken boy who'd appeared on the shore of the lake, but as Godric managed to look upon him now as Helga fussed over him, Harry was anything but.
He'd grown to be a strong man, an exceedingly capable wizard and warrior equally, but Godric felt a sense of sadness suddenly fill him.
Harry was no longer that helpless boy, and he found that there was part of him that longed for him to be so.
"Make sure you visit us regularly," Helga warned. "Do you have everything?"
"Yes, I have everything," Harry assured her.
Helga nodded and all but squeezed the air from his lungs, and Salazar did the same, whispering his own final words so that only Harry could hear them.
When he was done, Rowena carefully approached and Harry swept the woman into his arms.
It was her who was broken now, her spirit irreparably tarnished by what had happened to her daughter, and it was Harry who was offering the lost Rowena as much comfort as he could muster.
She cried openly as he spoke quietly to her, placing her kiss on her cheek and placing a knife in her hand.
It was the on Harry's godfather had given him, the very last thing he had remaining of the life he'd left behind when the storm had brought him to them.
He shook his head as Rowena tried to return it, and Godric caught the very last thing he said to her.
"It is still one of the most precious things to me," he murmured. "As long as you have it, I will always come back."
Rowena held him close to her chest, and for the first time since Helena had been killed, Godric saw a sincere smile crest her lips.
Perhaps her spirit had not been completely broken after all.
"We should be leaving, Harry," Godric broke in reluctantly, not wanting to interrupt the moment the two were sharing, but aware they needed to be on the road to reach their first stop on the way to Godric's Hollow.
With a nod, he whistled loudly, and Tempest came cantering towards them from the stables.
He truly was a magnificent beast, and he halted in front of Harry, waiting to be mounted for yet another adventure away from the castle.
This time, however, they would not be returning with Godric.
This was but the beginning of a new journey, one fraught with such uncertainty of things to come.
It was that thought that plagued Godric as Harry bade his farewells to the others and the two of them made their way towards the gates of the school.
"Are you ready for this?"
"No," Harry snorted, his sad gaze not on the road ahead but on the treeline of the forest in the distance.
Godric followed it, and amongst them stood a lone figure watching as they went further away.
"I will look out for her," he promised, "and you will be back, Harry."
He nodded in response, his expression morphing into one of sheer determination.
"I will," he vowed.
Godric truly believed him.
There was not a thing beyond the gates that would stop Harry from returning to her, and for the first time since he'd met the boy, he pitied Myrddin for the monster that would one day come for him.