By the Lake
"Could you not have made that a little gentler?" Owain wheezed as he and Harry crashed to the ground.
"Oh, shut up," Harry groaned as he stumbled to his feet. "I didn't see you apparating us both. I've never done it before."
Owain shook his head and harry set about the task of helping the man into his wheelchair.
"Damned thing," Owain cursed irritably. "You know, I always took walking for granted."
"Well, with a little luck, I won't be pushing you around in it for long. Do your legs not feel any better?"
Owain shook his head.
"Not really," he sighed. "They go from numb to tingly to painful in a matter of moments."
"That's still a good sign," Harry assured him, "but that isn't so good," he added, nodding towards the woman running towards them across the field at the rear of Owain's home.
"Don't worry, Harry. I'll be getting it in the ear more than you."
Harry hummed, and smiled as Anwen reached them and wrapped her around her husband.
"I am so pleased to see you," she whispered. "Are you hurt?"
"Not so much," Owain answered. "I just need some time for my legs to recover, and it's just another scar to get used to. You have Harry to thank for that."
"From what I understand, I have Harry to thank for saving your life," Anwen huffed before turning towards Harry.
She took him by the hand and her eyes welled with tears.
"Thank you, for bringing him home."
Harry nodded.
"He would've done the same for me."
"I know," Anwen replied with a watery smile. "Come, I have food ready for you both. You will eat before you do anything else," she added firmly.
Harry grinned and began wheeling Owain towards the house whilst Anwen clung to her husband's hand.
"Where is Aeron?"
"With your father. He has not left since he learned of what happened."
Ignotus was indeed in the home, and he was comforting the fussing Aeron in his arms, murmuring to the babe with a smile cresting his lips.
"You know, he is much like you when you were a boy," he mused aloud, his gaze shifting towards Owain. "He even looks like you."
"And you, father," Owain returned.
"And me," Ignotus chuckled before placing Aeron in his son's arms. "You do not appear as unwell as I expected."
"You can thank Harry for that."
Ignotus nodded and his eyes came to rest on Harry.
"I cannot thank you enough for bringing Owain home as well as he is. Such injuries often mean only one thing."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"I did the best I could, but I hope not to have to again. My wife is a much better healer than I could ever hope to be."
"I still wish to meet her properly," Owain interjected. "When she came, we didn't get much time to talk."
"She wouldn't mix with the likes of you."
Owain chuckled amusedly.
"Well, I stand by what I said before, Harry. She is much too good for you."
"You'll get no disagreement from me, but perhaps you should take a look at yourself. How you managed to convince Anwen to shack up with a git like you, I'll never know."
"That's fair," Owain conceded, his smile widening. "In all seriousness, thank you, Harry. You know Anwen is going to force you to eat before you return home, but you will be back?"
Harry nodded.
"I will be. Something tells me all of this is far from over, and it's not as though you're in any fit state to fight again for a while, not until your legs are better."
"Then I shall be grateful that you will be here in my stead. Arthur may be a man of his word, but I do not trust Myrddin. There is something deeply unsettling about him."
Harry felt Ignotus's eyes on him and he nodded.
"You're not wrong," he murmured.
"What did Arthur want to discuss with you?"
"Nothing much," Harry said dismissively. "He just wanted to know more about magic."
"He didn't try to recruit you?"
"He tried, but Camelot is not my place. For now, I belong here."
"What makes you so certain?"
"I don't know," Harry answered honestly, "but being here is what feels right."
Owain nodded.
"Come, let us eat. The food at Camelot was too decadent for my liking, and I missed my wife's cooking. How long will you be gone?"
"A few days at least," Harry answered, already relishing the thought of being with Morgana once more.
It had been some weeks since they'd spent any significant time together, and he intended to make the most of it.
"What does your wife do, Harry?" Anwen asked curiously.
"I think it would be easier to ask what she doesn't do," Harry chuckled, "but she is an excellent potioneer and she loves working with creatures. She is an incredibly talented witch, and can do just about anything she takes an interest in."
"And she's much better looking than you," Owain interjected.
Harry merely quirked an eyebrow at the man, and Anwen tutted.
"Harry is plenty handsome enough for any woman," she sighed, shooting her husband a look of disapproval. "Now, be quiet and eat. When you're done, you will be taking a bath so I can look at your wound."
Owain groaned and Harry laughed at the man's plight.
Life here truly was rather simple in many ways, and yet, Harry had come to cherish it deeply for what it was.
He wanted for nothing, and it was moments like these that took away the bitterness from the raging war occurring across the country.
Sadly, times like these were indeed few and far between, but he was hopeful that when peace finally reigned, he would have these more often with the people he cared for.
There was one person in particular he wanted to share them with, and as things were, Morgana was waiting for him to return home; something he intended to do momentarily.
(Break)
"You're playing a very dangerous game, Myrddin. Do not think that we are not aware of your involvement with Peverell. The Wizard's Council is not pleased."
The man left and Myrddin shook his head irritably.
If only the Wizard's Council were aware of all he was involved in and behind.
Only this morning, Myrddin had received word that Strenger had indeed made his way east and had already laid waste to a village deep in Saxon country.
Guthrum would not be pleased, though it was likely he would blame the Danes he was preparing to march against.
Not that they would face much resistance.
Cnut's forces were depleted and the man would be licking his wounds for some time. Myrddin had personally verified that he had left Wales and returned to Daneland upon doing so.
Nonetheless, Myrddin was taking nothing for granted.
One battle was not going to be enough to favour any of the forces vying for power, and now, even Arthur was no better off after what happened at Camelot.
He'd lost men, and with Owain sticking strictly to the bargain they'd made, Arthur no longer had such a powerful advantage.
Still, without Peverell, Camelot would likely have ended much differently.
Myrddin was not foolish enough to climb atop a dragon, nor could he profess to be able to fend off six thousand men at once, even if they weren't magical.
He shook his head once more as he apparated back to Camelot.
Myrddin would not lose faith in the stars, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to believe in something that had become less and less forthcoming.
"You are pacing again, my king," he pointed out as he arrived in the throne room.
"My conscience continues to weigh heavy," Arthur murmured. "We buried the last of the dead."
Myrddin nodded his understanding and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The crown is a heavy burden, and it only becomes more so the longer it is worn," he said gently. "More blood must be spilled before we can be at peace."
"Can we do it?" Arthur asked. "Without a magical force of our own, is it even possible?"
"I would not be here if I did not believe in you wholeheartedly, Arthur."
The young man nodded.
"It would just be easier if we had Harry and the others with us."
Myrddin frowned.
He had seen the king talking to the Crow, something that was rather unsettling.
Myrddin had pondered the man significantly since his departure, and he could not decide if Harry Potter was an enigma of sorts, or just a man with talent and too much bravery to see him live a prolonged life.
Regardless, he had left quite the impression on all within Camelot, but not necessarily for the best.
Myrddin was unsure about him.
He would not deny the man had been vital to their victory, but there was something as ominous about him as there was Owain Peverell, perhaps more so given that he seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and yet, Myrddin did not doubt that he'd been highly trained, but where?
His first guess would be at Hogwarts, but during the times he'd visited the school, Myrddin had not seen him there, but it was not as though he could claim to have been there much in recent years.
After Helena Ravenclaw's death, it had been made clear he wasn't welcome.
Had Harry been a student there?
Myrddin did not know, nor could he think of anywhere else he would've been trained so well unless it had been done so by the Peverells themselves.
He and Owain were undoubtedly close.
It was something Myrddin would need to ponder to gain any clarification, but it was not a priority.
No, for now, he needed to focus on preparing Arthur for what was to come; whether it would be another attempt from Cnut or perhaps Guthrum, or if it was for the king's own campaign that would begin shortly.
Britain needed peace, and Arthur could no longer remain within the walls of Camelot to achieve it.
(Break)
Once more, she'd not slept peacefully the previous evening, but it had not been because of unsettling dreams or even anything the fairies were doing to her.
Harry was coming home and Morgana could not wait to see him.
She wanted an explanation of all that had happened at Camelot in his own words other than the hearing it from the circulating rumours.
Even so, if what was being said was close to truthful, she wasn't sure if she was going to strangle the man or ban him from leaving her sight again.
Not that she truly could or would even try.
Morgana was merely internally venting her frustration and worry.
To most, Harry appeared to be something of a mysterious figure capable of things most men would dare not even attempt, but she knew him better than any.
Harry was indeed remarkable in many ways, in ways that continued to surprise her, but he was still a simple man with simple dreams in life that did not include slaying dragons or being a hero.
She smiled sadly at the thought.
He'd already become her hero, recuing her from her demons and showing Morgana that there was more to life than what she'd experienced.
"Now, I'm not sure if that expression means that I am in trouble or off the hook, so to speak."
"I haven't decided yet," Morgana replied dryly as she stood, her gaze roaming over him.
Whatever he'd endured, he seemed no worse for wear at first glance, but that meant little for the moment, not until she was certain for herself.
"A dragon?" she asked.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he grimaced.
"A dragon."
He said it so dismissively that Morgana couldn't help but laugh at him.
"You're more scared to tell me about it than what happened, aren't you?"
"I might be."
Morgana shook her head as she approached and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Releasing a deep sigh, she kissed him even deeper still.
"You can scarcely control the world outside of your own," she whispered. "I cannot fault you for what happened, even if I wish you weren't such a noble fool at times. That noble fool is the man I fell in love with, Harry."
He nodded and offered her a sad smile.
"I don't mean for these things to happen to me."
"I know."
"I wish they didn't."
Morgana nodded and kissed him once more.
"If there were more men like you, Harry, then maybe things like this would never happen."
Harry shrugged.
"I'm not convinced," he snorted. "There will always be those who have ambitions that will lead them to do things they shouldn't."
"And there will always be men like you to put a stop to them, even if I wish it didn't have to be my husband."
"Husband," Harry said amusedly.
"Is something funny about that? You do realise now that you are home, even if it is for a short time, you will be marrying me officially."
"I thought as much."
"Do you have any objections?"
"Would it matter if I did?"
Morgana shook her head and grinned.
"No."
"Then there is nothing to discuss, is there?" Harry sighed dramatically.
Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Tomorrow," she said. "You will marry me tomorrow. The arrangements have already been made."
"You've been busy."
Morgana hummed and fell deeper into his embrace.
"Not as busy as you. So, tell me what happened, Harry, and don't leave out any details. I want to know what foolishness my husband has gotten himself involved in since he's been away."
"How long do you have?"
"As long as it takes."
(Break)
He'd not missed the look of disapproval from Myrddin as he'd left great hall of Camelot, but Arthur didn't care. After all they had been through during the battle, Arthur trusted Harry with his life, even if such a thing had been forced upon him in a moment of chaos.
'What is it you wanted to discuss with me?'
'Many things,' Arthur sighed, 'but some more pressing than others.'
'Such as?'
Arthur shook his head as he looked across the scorched lands belonging to him.
'I have seen what you and your kind can do, Harry, and I'm just wondering how it is I am king when your people could take the country without much effort on your part.'
Harry chuckled and nodded his agreement.
'We could, and there are those that would,' he replied candidly, 'but you have to consider our position, Arthur. Muggles, that's those without magic, already outnumber us considerably. The world is always changing, but that number will only grow and grow, and your people will eventually develop ways to combat us. In years to come, we wouldn't stand a chance in a war against you, not without doing things no man should. Arthur, you have seen nothing of what we are capable of. You have seen us fight but have no comprehension of what we can do to you. Yes, for some time we could rule the lands, and maybe even hold them, but you forget the nature of man.'
'The nature of man?'
'You fear what you do not understand or can control,' Harry pointed out. 'The ways in which you kill us would only become a priority and my people would be in danger. Our world exists within yours, but it is my belief, and that of most of my kind, that it should remain that way. Our worlds coming together would eventually mean the demise of one of our peoples.'
Arthur nodded thoughtfully.
He had seen the fear for himself that Harry had mentioned, and even heard some of his own men voicing such feelings.
'I hadn't thought of it that way.'
'No, but I can assure you that most others here already have. Our affairs should be kept separately.'
'But Myrddin helps me.'
Harry released a deep breath.
'That is something I do not agree with. When I say that magicals should stay out of your affairs, I mean all of us. I believe he is trying to do well by you, but it is my kind that I am concerned about. Myrddin has garnered enough of a reputation that few would intervene in his work, and I have no doubt he has associates in high places preventing any from stopping him, but it is not meant to last. One day, he will do more than can be ignored, and there are those of my kind who will step in because they will no longer have the choice to allow it to continue. This is not a threat against you, Arthur, just the truth as I know it.'
Arthur swallowed deeply.
He had not considered such a thing, but in truth, he was ignorant of the way of the magicals.
His introduction to them had been gradual, and even Myrddin had been careful what he'd shown Arthur until it could no longer be avoided.
'What do I do?" he asked.
Harry shrugged.
'I cannot answer that for you. For what it is worth, I think you will make a good king, but you must tread carefully. It is not only the Danes and Saxons you may find yourself at odds with in the years to come. Magicals, Arthur, can do things to you that you cannot hope to comprehend. I could control you as though you were a puppet, and there's nothing you could do about it.'
'Is that what Myrddin is doing?'
'No, I would be able to see it if he was. He is not controlling you in such a way.'
'But he could.'
'He could,' Harry murmured as he removed a coin from within his tunic.
Arthur watched as he used his wand and murmured what seemed to be nonsensical words.
A moment later, the coin glowed an ominous blue and he pressed it into Arthur's hand.
'Keep this with you," he urged. 'It won't stop you from being controlled, but it will alert me if it happens. I will come and help you.'
Arthur nodded appreciatively.
'You can also use it to call for help if you need it,' Harry explained further. 'To do that, just put some of your blood on the coin. I will come.'
Arthur released a deep breath.
'You're a good man, Harry Potter.'
'I try to be, but I am far from it.'
'Your actions say differently.'
Harry chuckled as he shook his head.
'There is one other thing I should do, but I need you to trust me.'
Arthur frowned but nodded, and Harry placed his wand against his temple.
His thoughts became suddenly incoherent, and when he removed his wand, it had a silvery strand attacked to the end.
He placed it in a glass container and handed it to Arthur.
'That is the memory of the conversation we just had. You'll be able to remember it for yourself in a few days, but it is out of reach from anyone who would try to steal it from you or read your mind. It may be a little hazy, but it is the best I can do. It is to protect you, Arthur. There are those that would not like the knowledge I have imparted on you.'
Arthur shook his head as he woke up and poured himself a cup of water from the jug on his bedside table.
He'd had a terrible headache since that conversation, and try as he might, he'd not been able to remember much from it.
Now, however, he did, and he chuckled to himself.
'You're a good man, Harry Potter,' he echoed, looking fondly at his sleeping wife.
She was always there for him after a difficult day, even if it was just to listen to him as he spoke of his woes and difficulties of being king. Myrddin had been right when he'd said it was a burden that would only weigh heavier, and Arthur expected it to do so soon enough.
Already, there were talks of him and his men venturing out of Camelot and heading east, out of Wales.
Doing so had been delayed several times already, but it could no longer be ignored.
Arthur had established himself as best he could in his homeland, and now, he needed to spread his influence and begin saving those under the rule of men such as Cnut and Guthrum.
"You're fidgeting," Guinevere whispered, pulling him from his musings.
"I'm always fidgeting," Arthur snorted.
She smiled and pulled him back down to his pillows.
"Rest, my king," she urged. "You will be busy in the coming days."
Arthur nodded and did his utmost to sleep, but it would not come.
His nights were haunted by the screams of dying men, of others trying to slaughter him, and the smell of burning flesh from the fires of the dragon.
What Harry had told him was not something he could forget, and Arthur knew that this was not the last of the magicals he had seen on the battlefield.
If the rumours were indeed true, Guthrum had his own force of men with such abilities, and Arthur did not know how he would combat it.
Harry was right.
Although Arthur had come to trust the man with his life, he feared the magicals and druids roaming the lands, and he could only see what Harry had described coming to fruition.
The more his own kind were exploited to them, the more the fear would grow up and down the country.
(Break)
Phillip wiped the spittle from his chin as he glared at the peasant his men were restraining.
They'd captured around a dozen or so prisoners attempting to flee the land they'd burned, and for a group of muggles, they'd put up quite the fight.
"Pelleas," the muggle greeted him.
He was a broad man with long dark hair, and his chest and arms were littered with scars. Phillip had no doubt he'd once been a warrior, but his had gotten too old to be of much use on the battlefield, and the limp he sported would only be a hindrance.
"You've heard of me."
The man spat at Phillip once more and was beaten for his impudence.
"That's enough," Phillip sighed after the man had almost lost consciousness. "Dead men cannot speak, and we want all to hear of our exploits."
His men dragged the peasant to his knees and Phillip drew a dagger before setting to work.
Screams filled the air as the man's fingers were removed from his right hand, and when only five little stumps remained, Phillip sealed the wounds.
"Tell them!" he spat, grabbing a handful of the man's hair. "Tell them what happened!"
The peasant laughed as he was thrown into the dirt.
"Guthrum is going to execute you," he chuckled. "All of your heads will be resting on pikes when he catches you."
"We welcome him to try," Phillip snorted. "Kill the rest of them but leave him alive!"
He turned away as his men carried out the order.
Watching the fire continuing to burn in the distance, he winced as another jolt of pain shot through his leg.
Although he'd made it out of Wales, he had not done so unscathed, and the wound, though healed, continued to give him trouble.
Phillip was not sure what curse he'd fallen victim to, but it was proving to be a deeply unpleasant one.
He barely slept at night now, and walking long distances was out of the question.
The Crow.
It had been the Crow who'd cursed him and it was not something that Phillip would soon forget.
No, he would seek the man out one day, and in response, he would remove one of his legs before slitting his damned throat for what he'd done.
(Break)
"Is he going to keep us waiting all day?" Salazar huffed irritably.
Godric chuckled as he shook his head.
"You know as well as I do that he's going to make the most of his time with her."
Salazar hummed.
"Do you think the rumours of the dragon are true?" Helga asked worriedly.
"They are," Godric confirmed. "I've heard it from too many people for them not to be, but knowing Harry, he didn't just land a lucky spell that took it out of the air."
"The rumours say he was on its back whilst it was flying."
"That is probably the truth of the matter," Salazar grumbled. "He's too much like you!," he added accusingly to the grinning Godric.
"That's not such a bad thing."
"He was sorted into my house!"
"He was sorted into mine first!"
"Both of you give it a rest," Rowena interjected. "Honestly, you are worse than some of the students here."
"He started it," Godric muttered.
Rowena silenced any rebuttal from Salazar with a pointed look.
"Well, it seems that we will get the answers were a looking for now, doesn't it?"
Salazar watched as Harry entered the room, shaking his head at the beard the man wore.
Man.
Even now, he found it exceedingly difficult to not see the boy that had arrived on the shore of the lake some four years prior, and yet, here he stood now, a man grown and one who was accomplishing great things.
It was a sense of pride that filled Salazar as he looked upon Harry.
He could've broken under the pressure of all he'd endured, but he'd only gotten stronger from them.
"Rowena," he greeted the woman fondly, placing a kiss on her cheek and whispering some unheard words in her ear.
Salazar didn't know what he said, but it brought a warm smile to his friends lips.
Harry did the same with Helga, and the stouter woman playfully slapped him on the shoulder as he grinned at her.
He was then pulled into a tight embrace by, and not to be outdone, Salazar followed suit.
"You look well," he commented. "Now, I would like an explanation as to how you found yourself killing a dragon."
"I thought you might have heard about that," Harry sighed. "Don't worry, I harvested as much as I could from it for you."
"Of course you did," Salazar returned, "but that doesn't excuse you, Harry Potter. Sit, and tell us about what happened at Camelot."
He did so, and the more Salazar and the others heard, the less they liked about the situation.
Still, each were seemingly pleased that whatever agreement had been made between the men of Godric's Hollow and the muggle king had been concluded upon the expulsion of the Danes from the Welsh lands.
"You know, you could've pushed for much more from the vow," Salazar pointed out.
"Maybe," Harry agreed, "but I didn't want to push it too far. I didn't want to create a situation where I cannot kill him when I need to."
"So, you intend to kill him?" Helga asked.
"I think it will become unavoidable," Harry sighed. "Myrddin is not someone who will give up, nor will he allow himself to be defeated so easily. I still do not understand his motivation for doing what he is, but he will not stop."
"No, he will not," Rowena agreed. "So, what foolishness was running through your mind when you decided to mount a flying dragon?"
Salazar fought the urge to grin as Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Rowena was not looking for a logical explanation, but to decide just how stupid his reasoning was.
This was not a situation Harry would emerge victorious from, and the young man knew it.
"You heard about that?"
"By now, I expect the entire magical community has heard of it," Rowena retorted. "Do not think that I missed you omitting that from your regaling of the tale. So, Harry, what were you thinking?"
The young man looked towards both Godric and Salazar for but received only a subtle shake of the head in response.
Neither men were going to involve themselves in this matter, and in truth, Salazar was quite keen to hear of it for himself.
"I wasn't really thinking," Harry sighed. "We expected a dragon and seeing that I was the only one to have any experience with them, it was up to me to deal with."
"And climbing atop and blowing its brains out was your very best idea?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"When you say it like that. It sounds ridiculous."
"Because it is," Salazar pointed out.
"Whose side are you on?"
"The one that doesn't see you getting killed."
Harry grimaced.
"I'm not going to apologise because I wouldn't mean it, and I can't promise I won't do something so monumentally stupid again. Believe me, Morgana gave me more than an earful last night. That woman really knows how to tell someone off."
Salazar chuckled as he nodded.
"She does," he agreed. "We're not angry with you, Harry, but scared. Youi have so many people who care for you, and we wouldn't want to see you killed by something so foolish."
"What would you have done?" Harry asked.
Salazar frowned thoughtfully.
"Poisoned it. I would've located it before the battle and poisoned it."
Harry nodded and shifted his gaze to Godric, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"I would probably have done something similar to you, Harry," he grumbled.
Salazar shook his head, and both Rowena and Helga muttered something incomprehensible under their breath.
"Well, you got lucky," Salazar sighed. "I do not like you relying on luck. It eventually runs out. Anyway, you're a grown man and it is not our place to chastise you like a child any longer, but you must remember you're not alone in the world. You have loved ones to think of, Harry."
"I know."
Salazar gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"Despite your escapade with the dragon, I think I speak for us all when I say that I am unspeakably proud of you. So few men would have the courage to do what you did, let alone live to tell the tale. Now, in your absence, we have been busy."
"Arranging our wedding?"
Salazar nodded.
"Morgana said as much," Harry chuckled. "She made it very clear that we shall no longer live in sin, whatever that means."
"It means you shall no longer sow your oats on land that doesn't belong to you."
Rowena tutted her disapproval at Godric's choice of words.
"So, are you ready to officially get married?" Salazar asked.
Harry nodded without hesitation.
"There's nothing else I want more."
(Break)
"You cannot continue to pretend that you are well, Owain. You may have Harry and even Anwen fooled, but not me."
Owain released a deep breath.
"I'm not well, father," he admitted. "By rights, I should be dead. I saw it for myself, that damned figure stalking the battlefield and even my dreams. He wanted me, but Harry somehow stopped it from happening."
Ignotus nodded thoughtfully.
"We serve Death, my son, but he will not shy away from taking us when our time comes. If it was indeed your time, you would not be here now, regardless of what Harry did."
Owain chuckled humourlessly.
"Harry said the same," he explained. "I am still waiting for him to tell me how it is he is our blood. I know about his time travel, but little else."
"He is quite the anomaly," Ignotus concurred, "but I cannot deny I am pleased by his presence. He has fought for us as though he grew up here, as though the trauma he endured has not even crossed his mind. He may not have been raised here, Owain, nor even by us, but he is undoubtedly one of ours."
"He is," Owain agreed, "and it might just be up to him to lead us. I do not believe I will fight again. Even if my legs fully recover, I cannot risk dying on the battlefield when I have my son to consider. We are so few now, and Aeron will need his father. Does that make me a coward?"
Ignotus shook his head.
"On the contrary, it demonstrates a bravery most men seldom possess. You are prioritising what means most to you above your own pride. It is no easy feat to do so."
Owain nodded unhappily.
"Do you believe it is the right thing to do?"
"For what it is worth, I do," Ignotus answered sincerely. "By all means, protect our lands as we are looked towards to do, but you need not do more than that. Harry has his own destiny, and he would not be thankful if you were to die caught up in it. I shall say no more on the matter. It is for Harry to discuss with you."
With that, Ignotus left the room to allow his son to rest.
He could see that it hurt Owain's pride to make such an admission, but he'd meant what he'd said when he'd agreed it was for the best.
Perhaps his condition would improve, but the one thing that wouldn't change was that Aeron and Anwen would both need him.
Ignotus knew he was not so much longer for the world.
With each passing day, Death crept ever closer to him, and Ignotus could only hope his soul was reaved before that of is son.
(Break)
The magic passing between them was incredible, and Harry could not help but notice even more just how radiant Morgana looked in the afternoon sun by the lake.
The ceremony itself had been much different to the ritual they'd conducted in the forest, but no less significant.
Even more so, he could feel them being tied to one another by their magic, and other things he could not identify as they pledged themselves.
When the magic finally began to settle, Morgana was beaming in a way that Harry had not yet seen, and that very expression filled him with a warmth he couldn't describe.
Home.
That is what he thought of when he looked at the woman before him.
Wherever they were or what they were doing mattered for nothing. Home was wherever Morgana could be found.
"Well, I must say, that was indeed impressive," Salazar commented as he approached them. "I can think of no other ceremony that has been so touching and solidifying. How do you both feel?"
Harry shook his head.
He couldn't even find the words to describe what it was he was feeling, and it seemed that Morgana couldn't either.
Salazar chuckled amusedly as he removed something from within his robes and hung it around Morgana's neck.
"This belonged to my wife," he said solemnly. "It was the first gift I gave her after our own wedding. I would like you to have it."
Morgana stared at the ornate locket depicting a serpent made of emeralds.
"Shouldn't you give this to one of your own children?"
Salazar shook his head.
"There are many things they will gain when I am gone, but this is for you."
"Thank you," Morgana said gratefully.
Salazar offered her a smile and Godric stepped forward.
Clapping Harry smartly on the shoulder, he handed him a long package wrapped in paper, and when Harry revealed it, it was a sword of such fine quality, much like Godric's own.
"It is goblin-made," the man explained. "It functions much like my own, but this one is yours. Use it well, Harry."
It was a magnificent sword, almost identical to Godric's, but the blade was a little longer and wider, and instead of being encrusted with rubies, this was filled with emeralds.
The crow pommel on the end was gold, and it too had emeralds for eyes.
Tou buy such a blade would have cost a fortune, and as Harry ran a finger along the edge, he had no doubt it would cut through even the thickest of armour with ease.
"I will," Harry murmured, frowning as he caught sight of a robed man approaching the congregation.
He did not recognise him, but the expression the man wore was grim and he hesitated only a moment before approaching Godric.
"We have a problem," he murmured.
"A problem?"
"Pelleas is executing muggles in droves in the east and it is not going unnoticed. Godric, he must be stopped."
Godric released a deep breath before looking towards Salazar.
"I'll do it," Harry broke in. "I'll head east and hunt him down. It's about time I caught up with him."
Godric and Salazar shared another look before nodding towards one another.
"And we will come with you," the latter declared. "Enjoy your wedding night, Harry. We leave tomorrow."