Reunited
The storms had been sporadic over the past days, waning momentarily before being seemingly reinvigorated once more until they raged across the entirety of Britain.
Wherever Myrddin had gone, he'd found much the same, a violent storm, a magical storm.
The power of it was reminiscent of the last, the omen that had brought the Storm-bringer to forth, and Britain itself had not been the same since, mostly for the better, but the shadow of the man still loomed over them.
"Potter," he murmured as he continued to watch trees in the distance bend in the wind, and some smoulder as they were struck by lightning
Camelot trembled under the ferocity of the thunder, and though he did not fear Potter, nor had he forgotten about him, the storm was undoubtedly yet another omen.
For more than five years, not even a whisper had been heard of the man, and now, after so long, it seemed as though his return was being announced quite spectacularly.
To what end, Myrddin didn't know, but as he spotted a sodden crow land on the ramparts of the keep, he felt a chill run down the length of his spine.
"Death!" it seemed to shriek.
Myrddin shook his head.
No, the bird could not have made such a declaration.
Even so, the very thought of it was unsettling at best, and he shooed the eerie bird away, scowling as it simply flew into the raging storm. It was an ominous sign, and one that did not rest well with the wizard of Camelot, even less so than the storm.
"Storm-bringer," he muttered irritably as he continued to watch the violent weather as it battered the entire country, a sign that troubling times were not so far away.
For some years now, there had been relative peace, but Myrddin did not expect it to last forever.
No, the enemies of the king were plenty, and magical Britain itself faced with a war against the goblins, something Myrddin had given little thought to.
His priority was Arthur, and though the man he'd become was far from what he'd anticipated, he remained a good, fair, and just ruler, even if he was still rather naïve to the world around him.
Or was he?
Myrddin suspected the king had his suspicions.
For moons now he had kept himself to himself for the most part, still holding meetings amongst those that gathered at the round table but seldom saying much that did not pertain to his rule.
It had not gone unnoticed.
Guinevere had tried to brighten his mood, though Myrddin had come to believe that Arthur no longer loved the woman as he once had.
Did he know of her continued infidelity?
He shook his head.
No, the king would be rather vengeful if he'd learned of it, and neither his wife nor supposed friend would be spared his wrath.
Even so, there seemed to be no explanation for the king's melancholy, and it was unlikely Myrddin would get such answers any time soon.
Arthur still asked him for advice when it came to the running of Britain, but in personal matters, the man said nothing.
The king had seemingly lost faith in all around him, and in truth, Myrddin was not surprised.
Not that he was so preoccupied with the Arthur for the time being.
No, his mind was focused only on the storm, and as another tree burst into flames in the distance, he could not help but think that many changes would soon be upon them once again.
(Break)
He remembered the last storm that was similar to this, the overwhelming power and unfamiliar magic that powered it, and the destruction wrought. Although Godric's Hollow was being spared the latter, he could still feel the magic, only this time, it was more familiar to him.
"Harry," he murmured thoughtfully as he watched the forks of lightning light the sky in a myriad of colours.
Harry was on his way back to them, but Ignotus could feel that the young man was not as he had left. There was something distinctly different, something he knew only too well.
"Death," he acknowledged, his gaze shifting to where Owain held his daughter, and his wife held the hand of their son as they too looked on eagerly.
Of course, he could not be sure of the young man's journey, but Ignotus got the distinct feeling that he knew what was so different.
If truth be told, he was somewhat nervous, though equally curious to see what the coming together of the Hallows would hail.
Once more, Death had come to Godric's Hollow, just not in such a harrowing way as it had previously.
"Father?" Owain enquired. "Should you not be resting?"
Ignotus shook his head.
"There will be plenty of time for that soon enough," he replied tiredly.
He'd known for some time that his end was near, that Death had granted him the grace of continuing his vigil over the village he so proudly protected.
There would be little need of him for much longer, but Ignotus was not fearful.
He was grateful he had been granted such and would welcome his old friend with open arms when he inevitably came for him, though not until he had seen Harry for himself, perhaps for the last time.
Ignotus was tired.
Truthfully, he had been tired these past years and he was ready for the start of his next great adventure.
Godric's Hollow would be in the safest of hands with his son and descendant to watch over it, and with his watch coming to an end, his mind wandered to those that had gone before him.
Soon enough, he would be reunited with Antioch, with Cadmus, and with the loving wife he'd lost so many years prior.
The very thought brought a smile to his lips, and he ignored the look of concern Owain shot him.
"Come Death, come," he whispered into the storm, not doubting that the being had heard his plea.
(Break)
The very castle itself shook from the force of the storm, the thunder rattling the windows and the lightning illuminating the grounds below. Somehow, this one seemed even more volatile than the one that came almost two decades ago, and Godric watched it unfold with an anticipatory smile.
"Do you truly think it is them?" Helga asked.
"Undoubtedly," Salazar murmured. "Such a storm…"
He broke off as another fork of lightning crashed into the lake, displacing a significant amount of water across the already disturbed surface.
It was indeed much like the first that had brought Harry to them, and it could only be a sign that the man was to be returned imminently.
The three remaining Founders of Hogwarts said little else, each content to continue watching the storm, nodding appreciatively at the hue of colours from the magic.
It was as beautiful as it was dangerous, and yet, none felt any semblance of fear.
They were excited for what it would bring, each having missed the young man and woman that had left them so many moons prior.
Five years.
It had been almost five years since they'd laid eyes on them, and despite their eagerness to do so once more, they remained where they were and would do so until the storm had passed.
For how long they stood vigil, they couldn't be certain, but even as the sun rose, the storm continued to rage, only ebbing away when the sun reached its highest point.
Oddly, it was Salazar to move first, and both Helga and Godric followed him through the many corridors of the castle, onto the grounds of the school, and towards the lake.
"It really is them," Slytherin whispered, pointing towards the lake where both Harry and Morgana were emerging. "It's bloody them!"
Both men stepped forward to help them out of the water, with Godric pulling Harry into a tight embrace as Salazar followed suit with the woman.
Helga positively beamed as she stepped forward, only to be swept into Harry's arms, the man breathing a sigh of relief at the mere sight of her.
"You are well?" he asked worriedly, taking in her appearance.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
Harry waved her off dismissively.
"We are fine," he assured her. "I've been so worried…"
Helga took pity on him, cupping his cheeks as she smiled once more.
"We are well, Harry," she promised. "Come, let us get the two of you fed and then we can share news, yes? The castle is empty," she added to the frowning Morgana, who nodded her acceptance.
Helga looped her arm through Harry's and allowed him to lead the way, rolling her eyes at the man as he continued to look back at her, Godric, and Salazar as though he expected each of them to crumble to dust.
She had missed his presence, his attentiveness… she had missed every part of the man, and having him back, Helga breathed a sigh of relief with the knowledge that he'd been successful.
Had he not been, he wouldn't be here now, after all.
(Break)
He continued scratching away with his quill, ignoring the sounds of the busy courtyard outside as he replied to the many missives he'd received over the past several days. It wasn't a task he had to complete himself, but Arthur found the long quiet nights required a distraction from his warring thoughts.
For the most part, all remained as well as could be as a man overseeing such a vast quantity of land himself.
Of course, he had those loyal to him often travelling up and down the country to see to the needs of his people, but it was not the likes of Gawain, Percival, and even Bors that occupied his thoughts.
No, he could rely on those men with his life if necessary.
It was those who were, on the surface, his closest confidence that gave him pause.
It was out of curiosity that he had stopped visiting his wife's rooms, and Arthur wondered just how long it would take for Guinevere to seek him out herself.
She hadn't, and the two had only drifted further apart than ever.
Guinevere no longer loved him, but the king did not doubt she had love for someone.
He could see it in her step as she wandered around Camelot, her eyes twinkling, and her smile as bright as ever.
It was in every one of the gazes she shot towards him, but there was something else with.
Sorrow, sadness, guilt.
That was what he saw in his her now, and Arthur found that he couldn't bring himself to care.
He too no longer felt the same for her he once had.
Guinevere remained as beautiful as ever, and yet, there's was something deeply ugly that lurked beneath that veneer, something off-putting, and he was certain he was not the only one who could see it.
Myrddin undoubtedly did, and yet, the man had scarcely mentioned Arthur's wife beyond reminding him of the need of an heir.
Arthur snorted as he shook his head.
He would not be visiting his wife's chambers, not when there was someone else inevitably doing so.
How long it had been happening, he didn't know, but he felt such a fool and was certain he could not face such embarrassment if the truth was to be revealed.
His nostrils flared at the thought as he finished writing, frowning as a large crow landed on the windowsill.
Arthur watched it closely for a moment, and the bird him, nodding before it too flight.
"Harry?" he questioned.
He thought of his friend often, and more so whenever he saw a crow or he took a turn around the Camelot, which still bore the scars of the night he had saved them.
Arthur still wondered what happened to the man.
Five years.
It had been five years since they'd last spoken, that Arthur had truly felt confident about what was to come.
In the interim, his life had fallen apart in many ways, and though the kingdom was seemingly thriving, the same could not be said for the king. Deflating, he looked towards the window once more, only to lament on the days gone by.
Both the crow and Harry were gone, and yet, Arthur remained, often wondering if all he'd endured had been worth it at all.
(Break)
There was no denying that both he and Morgana were relishing the knowledge that they would be returning home momentarily, but as they found themselves gathered at the edge of the lake with those they would leave behind, it proved to be a rather bittersweet moment.
Both Sirius and Remus were trying to be happy for them, offering weak, encouraging smiles, but the others could not bring themselves to even do that.
Perhaps it would've been best if they'd remained at Grimmauld Place, after all, but Harry was pleased they were here, even if it made it somewhat difficult.
Still, the moment had come for them to take their leave, and it was Dumbledore who stepped towards them first.
"I cannot find the words to show our appreciation," the Headmaster said appreciatively. "We will miss you, but I offer you both only the very best wishes."
Harry shook the proffered limb of the man, who was quickly replaced by the blubbering Hagrid.
"I remembered you when you was just a little baby, Harry," he choked. "You've become a good man. I'll miss you, both of you."
He choked back another sob as he all but them in his enormous arms before stepping back and blowing his nose on a handkerchief the size of a pillowcase.
"You too, Hagrid," Harry said sincerely.
Hagrid offered him a watery smile, and Harry found himself faced with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins.
He was glad he'd gotten to explain to them what had happened, where he'd been, and that they'd been able to see that he was happy and thriving. Despite being several years older than them now, the bushy-haired brunette and lanky redhead were still the very best friends he'd had.
"I'll miss you," Harry said sincerely. "All of you."
"Then why are you going?" Ron demanded.
"Because this isn't my home anymore," Harry answered honestly. "Where I live now, that is my home. I'm happy there."
Ron opened his mouth to speak again but chose not to. Instead, he nodded his understanding, showing just how much he'd grown up and changed over the years.
Hermione, however, was not so reticent.
She all but threw herself into Harry's arms and seemingly attempted to squeeze the life out of him.
Hermione said nothing as she retreated.
They'd discussed this several times, and though she was not pleased by his decision, she knew Harry would not change his mind.
In the own affectionate way, each of the twins wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and Harry eyed them warily.
"Now, you be a good boy, Harry," Fred urged.
"Yeah, and enjoy our parting gift."
Harry chuckled amusedly and shook his head.
They'd all but lied him with their entire inventory when Harry had made a sizeable donation to their budding business. Soon enough, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would have its own premises, and harry was glad he would not be here to see the reaction of the twin's mother.
Finally, it was Sirius and Remus who stepped forward.
There was little more to be said that hadn't already been, and the four of them simply shared a strong, prolonged embrace.
"They'd be so proud of you, Harry," Sirius whispered. "Just as we both are."
Remus nodded his agreement.
"Your parents wouldn't believe what has happened to you these past years, but Sirius is right. They would be just as proud of you as us."
Sirius sighed as he took Harry by the shoulders, taking in his appearance for a final time.
"Just…be happy, Harry," he almost pleaded.
"And you, Sirius."
The man nodded as a tear spilled down his cheek.
"I can be now," he replied.
"It's time."
Harry turned sharply towards the voice and found himself looking upon the smiling visage of the Lady of the Lake.
Hose gathered behind him murmured amongst themselves, and he took Morgana's hand.
"Ready?" he asked.
His wife nodded, and bidding the others a final farewell, the two stepped into the lake.
Only a moment later, they were whisked away, the final image being the waving hands of those he would once again be leaving behind.
It had indeed been a bittersweet moment and though harry knew he belonged where he was now, he would never forget the others.
There was still a part of him that had hoped Sirius would deign to come along with them, but being here now, Harry realised he was being selfish. He may have found a home here, but there was no promise his godfather would.
No, Sirius had made the right choice.
Much of his life had been consumed by war and a miserable stint in Azkaban.
He deserved the peace he would get now.
"That is quite the tale," Godric murmured, shaking his head as Morgana finished informing them of all that had transpired.
For them, it had been only close to a year, but to those here, a little more than five had gone by.
It showed.
All three of the Founders had aged, not so considerably that they appeared in ill-health, but enough that it could not be ignored.
"What about here?" Harry asked. "What did we miss?"
"Rather little," Salazar assured them. "Britain has, for the most part, experienced an age of peace under Arthur's rule…"
"And the goblins are yet to emerge," Godric added darkly. "There are, of course, rumours, but nothing so brazen yet."
"It will come," Harry sighed, "and there is still Myrddin and his ambitions."
The three Founders nodded darkly.
Perhaps Harry would pay a discreet visit to Arthur to glean what he could from the king, and of course, he would need to reconnect with the Peverells soon.
For now, however, he was merely content to enjoy the company of those he'd missed dearly and take a little time to share with his wife whilst they settled back into the familiarity of finally being home.
(Break)
"That was quite the Storm," Lancelot commented.
Myrddin nodded as he surveyed the damage done to the forest close to Camelot.
Fortunately, the rain had doused the fires before they'd catastrophically spread, yet, the splintered trunks could not be moved yet for the heat still exuding from them.
What caused him pause, however, was the nature of the magic he could feel.
It was hers, for the most part; the blasted being that lurked within the waterways of Britain.
Such an observation caused Myrddin to narrow his eyes.
He had always known she was quite the enigma, her nature and origins unknown even to him, but he had never suspected she would be responsible for the coming of such a man.
Myrddin did not doubt she had played her part, that it was her who had unleash the Crow upon the world he was trying to build.
Did she truly despise him so that she would do something so damning?
Myrddin did not know, but it was an unsettling prospect.
"It was quite the storm indeed," he acknowledged, frowning as a large murder of crows took to the sky.
They were not so uncommon in Britain, but he'd not seen so many these past years, and it was something he would never not take note of.
The crow had become a symbol of hope for many, but to Myrddin, it would remain an omen, one that would always instil a sense of unease within him.
The very storm and the crow he'd seen last night was such, and he did not doubt that his path would soon cross with Harry Potter's. Myrddin could almost feel the man's presence and had not forgotten the sense of oppression he brought with him.
Death.
It had been there during the battle with Cnut, and even more so with Guthrum.
No, Myrddin did not forget what Harry Potter was capable of during his absence, but that absence was evidently done.
Peering in the distance towards where one would find Godric's Hollow, he had no doubt that Harry Potter was back, and the storm was merely a warning of what was to come.
To what end, Myrddin did not know, but peace had reigned, still did, and the re-emergence of such a man could only destabilise it.
(Break)
"It's just as we left it," Morgana said fondly as they entered the cabin she had built what seemed to be a lifetime ago. "It needs to be cleaned and a few minor repairs, but it's still here."
Harry smiled as a plethora of memories resurfaced.
It was here that he and Morgana had spent so long as teenagers, where they had fallen in love with one another, and where they'd built their life.
Not that Harry had been here much.
Whether he'd been travelling with Godric and Salazar, or venturing out alone, many of his years had been spent away, and for once, whether it was selfish of him or not, he wanted to feel settled.
Coming home to Morgana almost every night whilst they'd been at Grimmauld Place was something he'd not taken for granted, and now that they were home, he wanted that to continue.
"What're you thinking?" his wife pressed gently.
"That I'm glad to be home," Harry answered, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Until you're gone again."
He shook his head.
"Not for. While," he murmured. "I will visit Ignotus, Owain, and even Arthur, but I'll be coming back. We've never been given a chance to just enjoy being married, and before the goblins decide to rise up, or Myrddin forces my hand, I'd like to do something for us, if you have no objections to me being around."
Morgana smiled brightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I think I might like that," she said thoughtfully, "but we may need to make a bigger house" she added with a frown, with a shower, and…"
Harry placed a finger to her lips.
"You can have whatever you like," he murmured.
There were certain comforts both had gotten used to during their trip, and Harry would quite like to have some for himself.
"So, we will be quite busy."
"But for us, this time," Harry promised. "Would you still like to live here?"
Morgana nodded.
"I would. This is my home, Harry. It's the only place that has felt like it."
"Then we will stay," Harry assured her, drawing his wand and aiming it towards where he heard a stick snapping a short distance away.
Watching them curiously was a centaur, and the half-man, half-horse pawed the ground but offered both a nod before turning and heading back into the trees.
"Do you think he knows who we are?" Morgana asked.
Harry snorted.
"Maybe. The centaurs do have a way of knowing things, but we should still be cautious I've seen an unpleasant side to them."
Morgana nodded as she shifted her attention back towards the cabin, a frown creasing her brow.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"Nothing," she replied with a grin. "Just thinking about all the different things we can do with it."
Harry chuckled amusedly.
"Maybe we should figure that out first," he suggested.
Morgana hummed before wrapping her arms around his neck once more.
"Or maybe we should just enjoy being back here for a little while," she replied in a sultry tone.
Harry certainly had no objections, and tough he was still missing Sirius and the others, he did not doubt that coming back was the only choice for him to make.
Still, he would not forget them, and would often wonder what they were doing, or where life had taken each of them.
For now, however, he merely wished to settle back into the life he knew here, and the woman he had chosen to spend it with.
(Break)
He'd never forgotten his vow to not take the thick Welsh air for granted, and Owain took in a lungful of it before continuing with chopping his wood. He'd kept to the habit of doing it by hand, finding that it helped keep the stiffness from his back.
Although he'd never fully recovered from the wound, he knew he was fortunate, and as he watched Aeron bounding across the adjoining field atop his small filly, he smiled gratefully for what most consider to be such a simple thing.
"You still grin like a bloody buffoon."
Owain's eyes widened at the sight of the approaching man, and he immediately dropped his axe in a state of belief of what he was seeing.
"Harry?" he whispered, stepping forward and pulling his old friend into a tight embrace.
Harry returned the gesture, and the two men laughed heartily before Owain shook his head.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Harry shook his head.
"Here and there," he answered dismissively.
"For five years?" Owain asked with a frown.
He looked well.
Harry had not even aged a day in his absence, and he seemed more relaxed than the last time Owain had seen him, considerable so. His eyes were bright, and he was unburdened from the weight he had always carried.
It brought a smile to his lips, and he clapped Harry smartly on the shoulder.
"Anwen will be pleased to see you, as will my father, oh and Aeron and Celia."
"Celia?"
"My daughter," Owain said proudly. "AERON!"
The boy turned his horse towards them as his name was called and approached slowly.
"Not a baby anymore," Harry chuckled as he looked upon Owain's son, who dismounted the horse as he reached them.
"Five years," Owain reminded him, as he wrapped his arm around Aeron's shoulder. "Do remember the story I told you about the man and the dragon?"
Aeron nodded as he eyed Harry curiously.
"That's the only story you tell, father."
Harry chuckled and Owain scowled at him.
"Shut up, Potter," he huffed. "Well, this is that man, and your godfather, Harry."
Aeron was surprised by the revelation, but he offered Harry a nod of acknowledgement.
"You saved my father's life."
"Only because the idiot got hit in the back with an axe."
Aeron grinned amusedly.
"He still has the chair with wheels."
Owain frowned at the boy and shook his head.
"Go and tell your mother we have a guest, and fetch your grandfather," he instructed, ruffling the boys' hair.
Aeron did as he bid, and Owain watched him scramble atop his horse. He was growing up so fast, and soon enough, it would be time to gift him his first sword and a wand.
"Come," he urged his friend. "Who knows why, but she'll be happy to see you."
"Makes a change from seeing your face."
Owain shook his head.
He'd missed Harry, his dry wit, and even vicious tongue. There were not many who'd dare speak to him in such a way.
"That is never Harry Potter," Anwen gasped as they entered the humble home.
She immediately dropped the loaf of bread she was going to place in the oven onto the table before sweeping Harry into her arms.
"You know, I don't remember the last time I was greeted like that," Owain muttered, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Hello, Anwen," Harry said fondly. "I would ask if all was well, but you're married to this git."
"It continues to be a challenge," his wife sighed, shooting Owain a wink.
"I can only imagine," Harry snorted.
"It has to be easier being married to me than you," Owain grumbled. "How is Morgana?"
"Glad to be home," Harry chuckled. "She's busying herself with fixing the house up, so I have no idea what is waiting for me."
"The cabin here?"
"No, back at the castle."
Owain nodded, though he couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment that this was only a passing visit. Still, he understood and did not doubt that Harry would once more become a regular feature of the village.
Those that lived here would be as glad for it as Owain.
Harry's deeds had not been forgotten and remained the favourite stories of those too young to remember all he'd done for them.
"Well, you will be having lunch with us," Anwen insisted, "and there is someone else for you to meet. Owain, fetch your daughter."
He did so gladly, and found the girl awake, entertaining herself with her favourite wooden horse in her cot.
Celia was only two years old, and had quickly stolen his heart, just as his wife and son had.
With a smile, he lifted the girl into his arms and carried her proudly into the kitchen.
"Thank god she got her looks from her mother," Harry sighed dramatically, awkwardly taking Celia into his arms.
The girl eyed him curiously for a moment before taking hold of his nose, giggling as he pretended to bite her hand.
"You know, I got used to not being insulted every day," Owain snorted, "but I suppose I can deal with it, for now. Don't push your luck, Potter."
Owain did not doubt that he was about to receive a typical rebuttal, but the arrival of his father was enough to prevent it as Harry looked upon the man almost sadly.
Time had not been kind to Ignotus Peverell these past five years, and though his mind remained as sharp as ever, his body was failing him. He now walked with a cane, and there was a slight arch to his back.
Worse yet, he was rapidly losing his sight, but that did not prevent the smile that adorned his face as he took in the young man before him.
"I knew you'd be back," he said fondly. "Come, lad, help me into a chair."
Harry did so and looked towards Owain questioningly.
He could only shrug in response.
For him, the change wasn't so drastic and immediate, but as he pondered the state of his father before Harry had left, those changes only became more obvious. Ignotus had been old, but not so frail as he was now.
"Do you get him?" his father asked simply as he helped himself to an apple.
"I did," Harry confirmed, eliciting a smile from the elder Peverell.
"Good," Ignotus declared. "I would hear your story, Harry Potter."
He looked at the younger man expectantly, and Harry obliged with a nod, still saddened by the difference in the once strong man he had known.
(Break)
He often found himself taking a turn around Camelot and the surrounding lands, and after the storm that had blown in the previous night had cleared, the air was particularly invigorating.
Doing so reminded Arthur that despite the unpleasant parts of his life, he was indeed one of more fortunate men of Britain. Without his crown, he would likely have become little more than perhaps a stable hand for Ser Ector.
Fate had other ideas, and he found himself the ruler of a vast kingdom, though often, Arthur wished for the former.
He shook his head as he inevitably pondered his lot. He knew he should be grateful for what he had, but the sacrifices that came with it were often difficult to bear.
The lives of tens of thousands were in his hands, and he did his utmost to see them thrive, even when he knew his efforts would never be enough.
Still, people fought amongst themselves, others suffered poverty and sickness he do little about, and amongst the good men and women of Britain, there remained those who thrived on the misery of others.
"For a king, you really are a sorry looking bastard."
Arthur immediately drew his blade and pointed it towards the man who had addressed him, only for Excalibur to fall to the dirt with a thud.
"Sir Harry?" he choked.
The man smiled at him, a smile that had not changed in the five years since he'd last seen him.
Not a tired line etched the skin around his mouth, nor were his eyes wrinkled or hair grey.
It was as though he'd only vanished yesterday, and yet, five years later, here he stood once more.
Arthur was lost for words, but somehow, he felt a sense of relief wash over him at the presence of one he considered to be the greatest of men.
"Where have you been all this time?" he asked.
"Around," the man answered cryptically. "You look as though the weight of the world is on your shoulders," he added with a frown.
"It often feels that way," Arthur sighed, pushing his problems aside for a moment as he laughed and embraced the man he'd knighted so long ago.
"It's not very kingly to be hugging a peasant like me."
Arthur chortled as he shook his head.
"You may be many things, but you're no peasant. It does beg the question of why you are here. Has something happened to see you return?"
"No, not yet," Harry assured him, "but you should be on your guard, Arthur. There a disturbing rumours pertaining to some creatures you will undoubtedly meet. Goblins. They are intent on taking Britain for themselves, but it is best you do not mention it, not until you must. I will be watching them."
Arthur released a deep breath.
"Would it be too much to ask that you come just for a friendly visit?" he huffed. "I've missed you, but my god it has been peaceful."
Harry laughed heartily as he clapped Arthur on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, this won't be something you face alone," he assured him, "but I would appreciate if you did not mention me to any other for the time being."
"Of course," Arthur promised, and Harry shot him a look of sympathy.
"Be vigilant, Arthur," he urged. "Not all you surround yourself with can be trusted. Listen to your instincts and rid yourself of them. You know how to reach me if you need help."
With that, he transformed into a crow and took to the sky, leaving behind a pensive king who felt for the coin he kept in his pocket always.
Several times he'd been tempted to use it, but out of respect, he had resisted the urge.
Still, the warning he'd received was ominous, and yet, somehow, Arthur felt better about tackling the problems that plagued him, and confident once more he had a man behind him he could trust implicitly.
(Break)
She still couldn't quite believe that they were finally home, and Morgana had spent much of her day hard at work whilst Harry had been visiting with the Peverells.
Already, the house they shared looked considerably different.
It was much larger than it had been, and instead of being made from wood, it was now of thick stone walls, complete with a large garden she had cleared of trees and other debris.
Nonetheless, there was still much to be done, and the work would undoubtedly keep them busy for several days or perhaps weeks to come, so long as Harry did not find himself dragged into something else that would keep him away.
No, he had promised he would not allow that, had promised that for the time being at least, they would simply enjoy married life together without war or some other foolishness that kept her husband absent.
"What do you think?" she asked as she felt Harry's presence from behind her.
"It's a start," he said appreciatively, "but I get the feeling there is much more you want to do."
"There is," Morgana confirmed. "Will I have my husband helping me?"
Harry chuckled as he pulled her into his arms.
"You will," he vowed. "Everything else can wait, for the most part. I will be watching closely, but for now, everything is peaceful enough."
"It won't last," Morgana sighed.
"No," Harry agreed, "but it's not something we need to concern ourselves with now."
She offered him a warm smile as she rested her head against his chest, just enjoying the peace and serenity of their forest home.
Here, the outside world didn't matter, not until it became their problem to deal with.
It would come, of that, Morgana had no doubt, but as Harry had said, that time wasn't now, and to that end, she was simply content to be here for as long as the peace would last.