Northumberland
Harry had grown fond of the clean, crisp air of Godric's Hollow.
There was a sense of home about the village, and a safety he'd never experienced anywhere else. Despite Hogwarts undeniably being where he belonged, he could not deny that his memories of the school were mixed at best.
Some of the better times of his life had been within the walls of the castle, and yet, so had some of the very worst.
Godric's Hollow had only ever been good to him thus far, and there was a part of Harry that belonged here, just as much as he did at Hogwarts.
Knocking on the door, he cleared his throat and quirked an eyebrow as it was answered by a shirtless man, who was surprised to see him.
With a frown, Harry took a step back and peered up at the home he'd arrive at.
"No, I'm not mistaken," he declared. "This is definitely my house."
"I was just helping G-Gwyneth move, Harry."
Hook looked terrified, and Harry chuckled amusedly as he shook his head.
"It's none of my business," he assured the man. "What the two of you do is no concern of mine. Just, look after her, and that boy of hers."
Hook nodded.
"I will," he promised. "This isn't…"
"I don't need to know," Harry interjected. "I know you, Hook. I know you're a good man."
"Thank you, Harry," Hook replied humbly. "Is there something you needed?"
"Well, since you are here, I need to speak with you too. Can I come in? Is the lady decent?"
Hook muttered something incoherent as he glared at Harry but stepped aside to allow him entry.
"Harry! I thought you were away," a wide-eyed Gwyneth greeted him.
The two were acting like teenagers who'd been caught doing something they shouldn't be, and though Harry would usually take advantage to goad Hook, he was only happy for them.
"We were, but we are back, just for now. We will be leaving again shortly."
"Where to?"
"Wessex," Harry sighed. "From what little I have managed to glean, it seems that Guthrum has turned his attention there for now. Not that he will get much. Since King Alfred died, the place has been ransacked no less than a dozen times over the decades. If only his son wasn't such a damned fool."
Hook nodded his agreement.
"Do you need me and the men to come with you?"
Harry shook his head.
"You will all remain here," he said firmly. "I made a promise that I would only call upon you to defend Wales. We will not interfere in anything to do with the half dozen kings who wish to claim their thrones across Britain."
Hook nodded.
"I know, but we would follow you if you have need of us. We are your men to command."
"And I command you to stay where you are. Enjoy what peace you can get, and bloody well marry her if you insist on bedding her."
Hook flushed a bright red, and Gwyneth swatted Harry on the shoulder.
"I do not think your wife would approve of your teasing."
"Maybe not," Harry chuckled, "but I couldn't resist it this once. I am happy for you both. Will you be living together now?"
Hook sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
"We will," he confirmed. "We are going to use my land for farming crops, and the new home for the livestock. The fields are excellent for grazing."
"Then I wish you both the very best. I need to speak with Ignotus and Owain, but I am hoping to not be gone for long. I will see you both soon enough."
He left the house, happier that both Gwyneth and Hook had found one another.
Harry often worried about the woman when he was absent.
Gwyneth had not been in a good place when he'd first met her, but now, she seemed to have settled in Godric's Hollow, and was building a life for herself, something Harry wished to do too.
When the fighting was eventually done, and there was a lasting peace, he intended on doing just that with his own wife.
(Break)
"This part of the country would be nice if it wasn't for all the Danes," Bors grumbled.
"And we've brought more along with us," Gawain pointed out.
Bors hummed, and Arthur shot them both a pointed glare.
He understood the reservations of his men. He had them too, but Cnut and his fellow Danes had been nothing but humble since joining them further south.
They'd even brought their own provisions, a good thing considering that each farm they passed had been stripped clean of any crops they would've put to use.
Eadwulf, evidently, was indeed no fool.
He'd left nothing to be gathered, and all of his people had been moved out of Arthur's path.
"I am surprised they do not ambush us from the hills," Lancelot mused aloud. "It is what I would do if I was him. He must have considerable faith in his defences."
"You saw them yourself, Lancelot," Arthur pointed out.
"They were incomplete, but I expect Eadwulf has been working night and day so that they will be complete. Fortunately, there has not been so much rainfall that his moat will be full, but breaching his walls will not be easy."
"It will not be easy," Myrddin broke in. "We will find a way."
Arthur nodded appreciatively.
"Something is troubling you, isn't it?"
"Many things trouble me," Myrddin sighed, "the latest of which being the rumours surrounding Guthrum."
Arthur frowned at the mention of the eastern king.
"What of him?"
"I received a message that he is currently in Wessex."
"Wessex? Could he not sweep through there into Wales?" Lancelot asked worriedly.
"He could, but he would be a damned fool if he does," Myrddin said darkly. "He would run into Harry Potter."
Lancelot snorted.
"I can think of few who'd want to do that. I'm not even his enemy and the thought of becoming it worries me. He has this…"
"Presence about him," Myrddin finished. "He does indeed."
"As does his wife," Cnut interjected as he joined them. "She is quite the woman. A druid, like him, and rather beautiful in a way that she would slit your throat if you dared bed her."
"Let alone what Harry would do to someone," Tristan said with a grin. "He'd probably pull your guts out through your arse just for thinking about it."
"She's a looker then?" Bors queried.
Cnut nodded.
"Dark hair, grey eyes, pale skin," he reeled off. "Oh, my boy, he would remove your balls if you tried to claim her."
Bors winced, and Arthur clapped him on the shoulder.
"Best keep your old boy to yourself, if you want to keep it."
Bors cursed under his breath as he nodded.
"Forget it," Gawain urged. "Your pecker is for the lower-class woman, anyway. Besides, I bet she's a dainty little thing compared to the heifers you favour."
Bors nodded.
"I do," he agreed. "I like a woman who can wrestle with me, and box my ears if she fancies it."
"Jesus, I wish you would shut up," Arthur huffed. "We just ate, and the last thing I need is to think of you and a large woman wrestling for position. I think I'm going to ride ahead. How far way are we?"
"Another day or so, at least," Lancelot answered. "It's probably a good idea to send out some scouts. I can promise we are already being watched."
Arthur nodded.
"Bors, Gawain, you will come with me," he decided. "Lancelot, send some others east and west respectively. We do not want to find ourselves being ambushed. We will return to you by sunrise tomorrow. Myrddin…"
"I would like to make a brief visit to Wessex," the man declared. "I wish to see for myself what Guthrum is doing. I fear I will not rest until I know where he is."
"Go," Arthur encouraged.
He too would relax if he knew that Guthrum had indeed changed direction and headed south.
He'd rather not be caught between the man, his dead, and Eadwulf to the North.
Such a thing would not bode well for him and his men, after all.
"By sunrise," he promised, setting his horse into a gallop to gain some ground away from the column of men.
He was indeed joined by Gawain and Bors, but Cnut also decided to come along, and Arthur offered the man an appreciative nod.
At the very least, he was an excellent warrior, and it would not hurt to have him in tow should they happen across something that would see them draw their swords.
(Break)
"You grow stronger still," Ignotus praised.
"Not strong enough," Owain said breathlessly. "I have the stamina of a man twice my age."
Ignotus nodded.
"Your lungs were damaged significantly, son," he reminded him. "You are fortunate to be breathing at all."
"I know, and I am grateful for it, but I had hoped I would once again be able to fight if I am needed."
"If you are needed, Owain, it is because the fight has reached us, and we all must fight."
Owain shook his head.
"Harry will not allow that to happen."
"He will not, so you will never be needed. You are a father, and have a son to raise, a wife to care for, and land to farm. You can hunt and fish if you desire, but war is not something you should covet. War is for men who can no longer reason with one another."
"Does that make me unreasonable?"
Ignotus smirked amusedly as Harry entered the paddock.
"I cannot say I have ever met a reasonable swine," Owain chuckled, "and you are the biggest swine I know."
Harry laughed heartily as he pulled the man into a tight embrace.
It did Ignotus the world of good to see them so close, just as close as he had been to his own brothers, though Owain and Harry were not quite as foolish as them, even if they had their moments that it seemed they'd taken leave of their senses.
"No chair?"
Owain frowned and punched Harry on the shoulder.
"You stole the wheels from it!"
"That's quite the accusation."
"No one else would."
"True," Harry conceded. "I just thought you might need some inspiration to go without it."
"So, you were doing me a favour?"
"I did what was best for you."
Owain cursed under his breath, though he chuckled amusedly after.
"If it were anyone else, I'd have their head."
"You're welcome to try."
Owain narrowed his eyes and Ignotus huffed irritably.
"That's enough out of you two. One would think you were damned children the way you carry on."
"He started it," Owain grumbled.
"And I am finishing it," Ignotus said firmly. "Were you still boys, I'd have a mind to give you both a thrashing, or tie your hands together until you stopped bickering."
"We could always just hold hands if that would make you happy," Harry offered, eliciting a guffaw from Owain.
Ignotus shook his head, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.
The pair were trouble enough as grown men, but he was pleased to see that they could still jest, despite all they'd been through and what yet lie ahead of Harry especially.
"You are leaving."
"I am," Harry sighed. "There are rumours of the dead roaming in Wessex, and I would see if they are true for myself."
Ignotus nodded.
"But you will be back."
"Always."
Ignotus clapped him smartly on the shoulder.
"You're a good man, Harry Potter. The village will be safe without you for a while."
"But if it is not, you need only get a message to me. I will return."
"I know. Do you intend on taking anyone else with you?"
"Just my wife. We will not attack, but we must know where they are at all times. A decisive battle will soon be fought in the north, and it would be good for no one if Guthrum was to intervene."
"Do you think he might?"
"No, but with a man who would raise the dead to fight for him, it's best not to assume anything. I expect he will wait to see who wins before he decides his own course of action. Why involve yourself when your enemies will kill each other for you?"
"Indeed," Ignotus murmured thoughtfully. "Why indeed," he added with a frown.
(Break)
"I'm telling you, if you cut the wood like that, it's going to fall on my head, and I'll put my foot up your arse!"
"From down there?"
The Irishman with the dark beard glared at his grinning Danish companion, and Myrddin approached the duo.
He was a short distance away from Winchester and had been in the woods when he'd heard the chopping. He'd thought perhaps that another band of Danes had arrived to pick the bones of the land, but oddly enough, he'd come upon these two men merely cutting wood.
He'd watched them for some time, wondering if Eadwulf had somehow sent some of his army so far south, but it didn't seem so. Both men were indeed armed, but there were no others nearby.
It was an odd couple to come across.
Typically, the Danes and the Irish despised one another, but these seemed to know each other well.
"Greetings," Myrddin called. "Might I ask what you are doing?"
"Fetching wood," the Irishman answered with a frown. "We're being paid to help rebuild the city."
"Winchester is being rebuilt?"
"Aye, since the Danes have left the place alone, they thought it was time to rebuild it. It's a fine place, well, it will be again. They want to bring it back to the days of Alfred."
Myrddin shook his head.
Alfred had indeed been an excellent king during his reign. He'd managed to, for the most part, keep the Danes out of Wessex, and those under his rule had thrived.
Sadly, his legacy had not been a lasting one, though he had certainly laid the foundation for another to come along an fulfil his life's work.
That was what Arthur would do. Myrddin would ensure that.
"Who is paying for this?" he asked curiously.
"Brother Elgin. Said he found it with a letter from Alfred himself to rebuild the city in a time of need. It was dug up from under his house by the monk. He said he found the place abandoned, even though there should've been others here. Said he found a letter from Alfred hidden in the library of his monastery, and it told him where to find the wealth. He found it alright, more than enough to rebuild Winchester and make the land farmable again."
It was quite the revelation, and Myrddin was pleased to see that the gem of England would thrive once again.
"But to keep it safe, you will need men."
"Aye, we will," the Irishman agreed. "We told Brother Elgin, but he's one of these godly type. Thinks god will protect the lands. I prefer my sword."
Myrddin hummed thoughtfully.
It was none of his business, in truth, and although he was indeed pleased that Winchester would be rebuilt, he had more pressing matters.
Although Guthrum was evidently not here, Myrddin could feel the presence of the dead in the air, not close, but not so far away that they wouldn't inevitably arrive.
"Well, I wish you both the best of luck, and I look forward to seeing Winchester in all its glory."
The Irishman nodded, and the Dane remained silent as he watched Myrddin head back further into the woods where he would watch for a while.
Guthrum could not be allowed to get his hands on such a considerable sum of gold, and if the dead were indeed enroute, he might need to intervene to ensure that didn't happen.
Besides, it could well prove to be an opportunity to stake a claim on the land for Arthur.
If Myrddin was to find himself in a position to save the people here, he could say he did so only on behalf of his king, a king that could be theirs, a king that cared for all men.
(Break)
"They're here."
"Somewhere," harry murmured with a frown, "but they're not the only ones that have been, or still are."
"Myrddin."
Harry nodded, narrowing his eyes as he peered around the area surrounding Winchester. The city itself was not so far, only around a league or so to the north, but he could feel the presence of the dead somewhere in the distance.
Myrddin, however, was much closer.
"Where is he?"
Harry shrugged.
"I don't know, but I expect he is here for the same reason we are. He wants to know exactly where Guthrum is, and that he will not be able to interfere with whatever Arthur is doing."
Morgana nodded her agreement.
"Do you hear that?"
"Maybe the priests have come back."
"Priests?"
"When I was here with Godric some years ago, all we found left was a group of priests. We…got rid of them for what they had done."
"What they'd done?"
"The barricaded themselves within the church during a Dane attack but left the locals outside of it. They were all slaughtered."
"Priests did that?"
Harry hummed.
"From what I have seen, the priests are among the most unpleasant of people, for the most part. They profess to be the voice of god, and yet, they act in a most ungodly fashion. I have seen men who have had their hands removed, and others who were made into eunuchs because a priest decided that god wished to punish them. I can't say I like priests."
"What about the Fat Friar?"
"He's an exception," Harry chuckled. "This is where we found him, and he helped us punish the others. Where was their god then?"
"Maybe you were doing god's work."
Harry shook his head.
"I can't see god acting through me, not with the things I have done. Still, if the priests claim to be of god, maybe he's a sadistic bastard, like them."
"Don't let the Saxons or Britons hear you speak like that," Morgana warned. "They don't take kindly to blasphemy."
Harry snorted.
"All I'm saying is that from what I have seen of them, they're not very bloody Christian. At least the Danes admit their gods thirst for blood."
"Are you thinking of becoming a heathen?"
"No, I only believe in one thing, my dear. Death. It will come for us all eventually, and that is undeniable."
"When did you become so macabre?"
"Since I met you."
Morgana offered him a grin but halted her horse as they came into a clearing where several trees had been felled.
"Can we help you?"
Harry frowned as two men arrived, both carrying logs on their shoulders.
The one who'd spoken was Irish, but his companion was a Dane. It was an odd duo to come across, especially since they were usually fighting amongst themselves.
Danes and Irish did not mix, but these two seemed to get along well enough.
"Are you rebuilding Winchester?"
"You know, you're the second nosy bastard to ask that today," the Irishman said suspiciously. "We've been here for months now, and we've not seen a single person, but today we get you two and the other one."
The Dane standing next him nodded with his hand resting on the handle of his axe.
"I'm just curious," Harry said with a shrug. "I was here some years ago, and the place was barely standing."
"Well, it's not done yet, and won't be for a while. The rest of them have gone home for the winter, so, it's just us for now. "We're rebuilding the walls, thicker than they were before."
"Can we have a look?"
The Irishman frowned.
"Aye, we're going back anyway. It'll be dark soon, and it looks as though it will rain."
"It does," Harry agreed, scanning the area once more, his gaze pausing where he felt the familiar presence of who had become his foe the strongest.
(Break)
Myrddin cursed under his breath as he watched Potter and his wife leave with the two men he'd made the acquaintance of earlier in the day. He'd hoped that Guthrum might just attack Winchester so that he could come to the rescue of the duo, indebting them to him.
Of course, Myrddin would've been dismissive of such on the surface, but it would've been most useful to have two more warriors at his behest.
Why they were not part of one of the many armies cross the country, he didn't know, but judging by the scars and evident wellness of both, they had indeed seen their share of battles.
Still, that did not answer why they were in Winchester posing as builders.
Myrddin did not doubt they had a story or two to share, but it seemed that now, he would not hear them.
He would not reveal himself to Potter and his wife, not when he could not be certain how they would react to his presence.
He'd almost expected one or both to announce that they knew he was nearby, but Potter had already proven his guile, and the woman was a dark enough presence that she could not be without such.
It meant that both were able to control their anger enough not to act so rashly, and that made them only more dangerous.
Myrddin hummed to himself before shaking his head.
He thought he'd gotten the measure of Potter, thought that he'd been little more than a sword and wand to be used and disposed of, but such an observation was far from the truth, something Myrddin had learned to his detriment.
Why he had not told all to Arthur, he could not be sure, but Potter acted with purpose, though Myrddin could not fathom his reasoning.
It was with a sigh that he cast a water repelling charm on himself.
Yet another storm was coming. The country was rife with them right now, and it was not a good omen for those outside the comfort of a keep.
"Storm."
Myrddin paused midway to apparating away from Wessex.
Storm bringer.
The very thought made his blood run cold, and he looked once more in the direction of Winchester.
Could Potter be the foe he'd seen in his vision so many years ago?
With all that had been happening in recent months, he'd put what he'd seen in the stars to the back of his mind, though now he pondered it, Myrddin knew it had been foolish to do so.
The very existence of such a man was the greatest threat to Arthur and his ambitions, and he could not help but think that very threat had been under his nose.
"Potter," he whispered, unable to ignore the sense of dread that filled him.
He'd proven himself to be a warrior, and rather savvy to the world around him.
Could it truly be him?
Myrddin did not know, but he could not dismiss the unpleasant that would now linger within him until he knew the truth.
Until he could establish it for himself, he needed to tread carefully, but also keep Potter away from Arthur.
If he was indeed the storm bringer the stars spoke of, he was perhaps the most dangerous individual roaming Britain.
With that in mind, Myrddin did apparate away, his thoughts drifting to every interaction he'd had with Potter and beyond, trawling his memories and all he knew for any sign that his thoughts on the man could be substantiated.
(Break)
"Well, the place certainly looks different from when I was last here. You're doing a fine job."
Darragh, the Irishman nodded gratefully.
"Aye, we've been here for some time. Brother Elgin gave us work when we needed it, even if he is a sneaky bastard."
"He is?"
"He likes to act godly, but we've seen him venturing off to find whores. Now, where does a man of the cloth get so much coin from? He says he donated the lot of what he found to the city, but I don't think so, not with what he is able to spend on whores and fighting men."
"Fighting men?"
"Aye, he says they're guards for the city, but they're not here now. We saw them marching off before Elgin left. All of them were dressed as Danes."
"But they're not Danes?"
"Some are, but most are not. Some are Irish who got separated from a fighting group. Well, they say separated, but they ran. They came from Wales and have been here ever since."
Harry nodded.
He could guess which fighting group they had been a part of, and it is certainly possible that some did flee when the tide of the battle had turned against them.
"You weren't one of them?"
Darragh snorted.
"I was banished from my land for killing a priest I caught touching little girls. I slit his balls off and shoved them down his throat. I left Ireland but was captured and sold into slavery. That's where I met Gunnar here. We were both slaves before we managed to escape."
"Gunnar doesn't say much."
"He's not much of a talker, that's why I like him," Darragh chuckled. "He's the son of a well-known Dane, but his father was murdered and Gunnar was sold as a boy."
Harry could only shake his head, though he paused as a sudden chill swept into the room.
"We must move," he whispered as he stood.
"Move, why?" Darragh asked.
"Something is coming that you do not want to find you. Follow me. I know a place we can hide."
He led them towards the church, and once they were inside, he barred the doors behind them before hurrying to reveal the hidden room beneath the podium.
Sealing the door behind them, he lit the tip of his wand and pressed a finger to his lips.
Neither Darragh nor Gunnar were taken aback by his wand, but now was not the time to mention it.
"What is happening?"
Harry shook his head, and Darragh fell silent as they heard the noise coming from the outside of the church.
Perhaps the man expected there were Danes nearby, but that was not so.
Guthrum had finally decided to show himself, and inevitably, he'd brought the dead with him.
"They cannot have gotten far."
"They have not," a feminine voice responded. "Both were here, and I sense them still."
"Are you certain?"
"Her magic is unmistakeable. It is not human, but a gift from something that does not belong amongst men, much like ours. She is a danger to us, and she must be killed."
"And the man?"
"Even more dangerous," the woman answered. "He is Death."
"Death?"
"He embodies it, has defied it, and claimed it for himself. He too must be killed, or he will take our very souls to his master."
The floorboards above the m creaked as Guthrum began pacing, and Gunnar drew a dagger from within his belt. Darragh placed a hand on his wrist, though he too seemed angry by the appearance of the man.
"They're hiding," Guthrum muttered.
"Yes, with two other men; an Irishman and a Dane, my king."
Nothing else was said for several moments.
"Are they here?"
"Somewhere," the woman answered, "but it would be dangerous to search too closely for them, lest we find ourselves caught unaware."
"Then we will burn the bloody city to the ground!" Guthrum declared. "If we are fortunate, them along with it."
He stomped away from the church, yet the woman accompanying remained behind, whispering to herself.
"I know that you are here. You cannot hide from us in perpetuity. We shall meet again, Le Fay. You too, Dragonslayer."
He receding footsteps were much slower, more purposeful, and she closed the door of the church with a loud bang behind her.
"Jesus, I thought we were done for," Darragh sighed. "They knew who you were."
Harry nodded.
"And you know who Guthrum is."
"Aye, we know him," Darragh admitted. "He's the one who bought us. It was Erik who killed Gunnar's father and sold him to Guthrum. We met in East Anglia and escaped together."
"What do you know about him?"
"Everything," Gunnar broke in darkly. "He used me as his personal servant for several years before sending me off to fight with some of his Saxons. One day, they didn't come back after we'd returned from a march. They vanished the next day."
Harry frowned.
"Was the leader of these men named Leofric?" he asked curiously.
Gunnar's eyes widened as he nodded.
"You know of his fate?"
"I fought with him against the Irish in Wales," Harry explained. "I expect he is in the north now. He fights with Arthur."
Gunnar eyed him before breathing a sigh of relief.
"I thought them all to be dead," he whispered. "He's a good man. He convinced Guthrum to let me go with them."
"He was very much alive the last time I saw him," Harry assured the man. "Will you go north?"
Gunnar shrugged.
"I do not know," he sighed. "I grew tired of war some years ago, but if it takes me back to him, then I just might."
"Dragonslayer," Darragh interjected with a frown. "I've heard of what you did in Camelot. They say you climbed onto a dragon's back and killed it, and that you personally saved Arthur's life."
"Who says that?"
"Everyone up and down the country. Even we heard the story on the road."
Harry could only shake his head.
"You know about magic," Morgana murmured.
"My mother was magical," Gunnar answered. "They lynched her before taking her head, and murdered my father after making us watch. In Guthrum's camp, he has many magicals. They read the stars for him, brew his elixirs, and even his protections. He is not magical, but he treats them well, unlike Erik."
"And you?" Harry asked Darragh.
"I've seen enough to know the world isn't always what it seems. It's either god gave these gifts to some men, or it's from the devil. Sometimes, I'm not so sure of which."
Before Harry could speak once more, the smell of burning wafter into the church, and he cast a fire repelling charm to ensure the flames would not reach them.
"They're burning the city."
"Aye and destroying all the work we've done. They'll be nothing left for us here."
"Where will you go?"
Darragh shrugged.
"I don't know. We were happy here. It's the first time we've ever been settled."
"Well, I know a place you can go if you do not intend to fight. I can even arrange for Leofric to visit, if that's what you'd like."
"Where?"
"Wales," Harry answered. "We can take you there, and I can arrange for you to have some land to farm, and even a home if that is what you want."
"You'd do that for us?"
Harry nodded.
"It sounds to me that you've both suffered enough. I know what it's like to not have a home."
Darragh seemed suspicious of the offer.
"What do you want in return? There's always a price to pay."
"I only ask that you tell me everything you can about Guthrum."
"Why?"
"Because I plan on killing the bastard."
(Break)
Myrddin watched as Lancelot snuck away from Guinevere's tent. Even here, the treachery between the two was rife, and yet, it remained to be the least of his concerns, as too whatever Guthrum was up to in Wessex.
No, the most pressing thing plaguing him was all he'd seen in the stars over the years, of the Storm bringer that would bring only upheaval to Britain, and yet, it made such little sense.
Arthur and Potter remained on amicable terms, and the latter had even gone out of his way numerous times to help the king, so how could it be that Potter would be Myrddin's greatest enemy?
It was much to take in and ponder, and yet, Myrddin knew he must get an understanding of the man.
The few he had asked of Potter knew next to nothing save for his sudden emergence as something of folklore.
His name and deeds were spoken across the country, with most believing him to be just the latest myth making its rounds.
Still, they knew of him, but it seemed that almost no one knew him as a man away from the battlefield, and his feats.
Myrddin knew only one thing himself.
Potter had married a most troubling woman, and the only way he could've done so was meeting her at Hogwarts.
Morgana never left the grounds, and Myrddin had only see her do so the night Helena Ravenclaw had been murdered.
He paused at the thought and narrowed his eyes as the memories of that night surfaced.
It was the very same that he'd employed Strenger, and that he'd been made a damned fool of by someone throwing horse manure at him.
Potter.
It had to be.
No local in Hogsmeade would dared to have besmirch him in such a way, but Potter had proven time and again that he was rather reckless and equally fearless.
That, however, had been some years ago, which meant that it was inevitable that he did indeed know Salazar and Godric before Myrddin had seen them together in East Anglia.
Myrddin frowned thoughtfully.
He was missing much, but now he knew that Potter truly was something that could not be ignored any longer, he would give the young man his undivided attention.
"THE KING RETURNS!"
Myrddin turned to see that Arthur was indeed returning to camp atop his horse with, Cnut, Gawain and Bors in tow.
Although dishevelled, he appeared to be in good spirits despite the looming battle.
"What news, Arthur?" Myrddin asked.
The younger man gestured towards the command tent, and Myrddin followed him inside where Arthur warmed his hands on the fire. Only a moment later, they were joined by Lancelot, Cnut, Bors, and Gawain.
Tristan and Gaheris had yet to return from their own scouting mission, but that did not seem to matter right now.
"Eadwulf has locked himself in his keep," Arthur explained. "We captured one of his scouts on the road. Eadwulf plans to hide until we turn away or weaken. He is well-provisioned and can receive more from the sea."
"Then why are you smiling?" Lancelot asked.
"Because I have a plan," Arthur answered, his smile widening.