The Heir
Whilst the men enjoyed their spoils of war, Arthur was of no such mind to do so, choosing instead to allow them their moment of joy whilst he took a stroll through the nearby forest.
He vividly remembered that it was only a matter of years prior that this was where Guthrum had begun his own efforts to take Britain for himself, and Arthur would never forget the abject fear that had gripped him as he'd seen the hundreds of corpses emerge from the trees shortly after he'd taken Eadwulf's keep.
He shuddered at the thought, and once more for good measure as he spotted a crow perched in a nearby tree.
He watched as it seemingly fell to the ground, only to transform in mid-air to the man that had disposed of the walking corpses.
"Sir Harry," Arthur greeted the man fondly.
"A battle?" he asked curiously.
"Another Dane uprising," Arthur sighed tiredly. "They continue to happen from time to time, but those are my concerns."
Harry nodded.
"So, you requested my presence for something else?"
Arthur's expression darkened.
"What you said to me during our last, brief meeting…"
"About being cautious of those close to you."
Arthur hummed unhappily.
"I have been watching all of them closely," he explained, "but only one gives me cause for concern?"
"Only one?"
He seemed to be surprised but also amused, leading Arthur to believe he was indeed missing much.
"My wife."
"You think she is going against you?"
"No, not in a that would be so detrimental to my rule, but she is not the woman I married, Harry. I once thought that she was fond of me, that she even loved me, but I see it now. She never did, not truly, and only remains at my side out of duty."
The man offered him a look of sympathy.
"What do you intend to do about it?"
"Find who it is she does love," Arthur answered. "I may have been a young fool when I married her, but that is no longer so. I see it, Harry. She can and does love, but it isn't me. No, there is another."
"But you no longer love her either."
"I do not," Arthur confirmed. "There is something rather snide and unsettling about her."
"Then why not send her away?" Harry suggested. "Send her back to her mother and father, and if she is indeed found love with another, it will quickly become known to you."
Arthur frowned thoughtfully.
"It could work," he mused aloud, "but I would sooner have cause to do so. As a king, I cannot simply dismiss my wife without reason. God will take exception to that."
"Then you must be as snide as the one you wish to catch. It would be best to use those you trust implicitly rather than yourself, or another that will do it for gold."
"Perhaps," Arthur conceded, formulating a plan. "Again, that is my own problem to handle, but there is something else I would have your advice on."
Harry offered him a shallow bow, and Arthur shook his head.
"With our kinds living amongst one another, I expect there to be problems, but I cannot allow your kind to assert themselves over us. I remember you once said that our worlds should be kept separate, and though I know it is difficult to enforce that, but I cannot abide your kind victimising ours."
"That is happening?" Harry asked unhappily.
Arthur nodded.
"I have mentioned this to no other. Not since I discussed it with Myrddin so many moons ago, but it is something that can no longer be ignored. The reports of these incidents are becoming more frequent, and my own Peacekeepers can do nothing to prevent it."
Harry shook his head irritably.
"What did Myrddin have to say?"
"That there will be teething troubles whilst we get accustomed to one another."
"No, this is a problem that will continue until those of my kind that wish to be in control of yours get what they want," Harry grumbled.
"Do you not have a king of your own?"
"We do not even have a recognisable government, as such," Harry explained. "We have a Wizard's Council that is comprised of only the richest and most influential of our kind. Those below them do as they are told because they have little choice."
Arthur watched as Harry frowned thoughtfully for a moment.
"Myrddin has mentioned them," he sighed. "He says they are good men."
"They are self-serving gits," Harry countered. "They care only for themselves and their influence. These are not chosen or elected, they simply named themselves the authority amongst our kind."
Arthur shook his head unhappily.
"I don't like that. I know what I did was similar, but I brought peace, for the most part, this council of yours is only disrupting that."
Harry clearly had his own thoughts on the matter, and he gave Arthur's shoulder a squeeze.
"I will look into it," he assured the king. "For what good it will do, I don't know, but I will do what I can to put a stop to this."
"Thank you, Harry," Arthur offered appreciatively.
Why Myrddin was not willing to do the same, he didn't know, but he was relieved to once more have the man before him at his disposal for such matters.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door of his quarters.
"Come in," Arthur bade.
The man that entered was one who tended to the upkeep of the castle, someone so few paid attention to, but a man who likely knew more about Camelot than any other.
Having returned home only the previous day, Arthur had been pondering just who could be of use to him, and Alwyn was one of those.
"You sent for me, my king?" the man asked worriedly, limping to a nearby chair to lean upon.
"I did, Alwyn."
"Is there something not to your satisfaction in my work?"
"Nothing of the sort," Arthur assured him. "I have ned of you, Alwyn, and I would have this done as discreetly as possible. You will be well compensated for your efforts."
Alwyn frowned before shaking his head.
"My pay is more than enough, my king. I have been with you from the very beginning when you were just a boy."
"You have?"
Alwyn nodded.
"I was wounded here, and set to work doing what I do now," he explained, pointing to his leg. "You and Sir Lancelot came to me when I was recovering on grounds of this very castle."
"Your loyalty truly is appreciated, Alwyn," Arthur said sincerely.
The man smiled.
"What good I am now, isn't much," he chuckled, "but I will serve in any way I can."
"Thank you, Alwyn, and as I said, I need for you to be discreet in this matter. I expect you know the keep better than even me. Are there any hidden passages that can be used?"
"For what purpose?" Alwyn asked with a frown.
"Just to move around the castle itself."
Alwyn nodded.
"Several, my king," he murmured thoughtfully. "Through a combination of the ones I know of and use, you can get to just about anywhere in castle, even to these rooms."
Arthur frowned unhappily.
He would have those blocked at his earliest convenience.
"What of the Queen's quarters?"
Alwyn looked at him curiously before deflating.
"Are you asking because you wish to know if any other is visiting her without your knowledge?"
Alwyn was certainly astute.
Arthur nodded and the man shot him an apologetic look.
"It is not my place to spy or tell tales, my king," he spoke. "I pay little attention to others and their movements, but yes, it is possible to reach the Queen's rooms through a hidden passage. The one I know of leads directly into her chambers, mind, I want to make it clear that I do not use it. I did it once, and when I realised where I was, I never returned."
Arthur held up a hand to calm the man.
"I believe you, Alwyn. Would you be able to show me where this passage is?"
"Of course, my king," Alwyn consented.
"Then we will do so when the others are gathered for dinner," Arthur decided, "and remember, this is to be kept between the two of us."
"Of course, my king," Alwyn assured him. "I shall say nothing of this to anyone."
"Thank you," Arthur offered sincerely, and Alwyn took his leave of the room.
Arthur wasn't sure if he was pleased by the discovery or saddened by it.
He truly did not love Guinevere as he once had, but that didn't protect him from the feeling of deception and treachery that filled him.
His wife had chosen those rooms for herself upon her arrival here after having thoroughly inspected the keep.
It meant that she already had a lover or had chosen them with the intention of taking one in the future.
Regardless, he would the truth of the matter soon enough, even if he wasn't sure he wished to.
(Break)
She winced as the babe kicked once more, and Morgana placed her hands on her swollen stomach in a bid to calm the restless child she carried. Her pregnancy had not been so difficult in all, but she was no more eager than ever for the birth to be over with.
"You think you've had enough," she sighed affectionately.
For months, she and Harry had been preparing for parenthood, neither of them having any experience to draw from having both been orphans. It was rather nerve-wracking to say the least, but Morgana was hopeful they would cope.
Already, she adored the babe, had lovingly made dozens of outfits, toys, and anything she else she could think of for when it finally arrived.
It was due any day now, and much to her chagrin, Harry insisted she not be left alone for a single moment.
For now, Helga was with her, assisting her with the various brews bubbling away she had been practicing with since they'd returned.
Thus far, she had stocked up on hundreds of completed phials, ready to be put to use when the need arises.
Her work alone could save many lives, and in the future, she would perhaps open the very first magical hospital in Britain.
"Still kicking then?" Helga asked amusedly.
Morgana frowned good-naturedly as she looked out of the window.
Harry wasn't here.
Ever since he had met with Arthur several days prior, he had been leaving more regularly, returning at odd hours rather frustrated or irked by something he had observed.
It was troubling to learn of the evident rise in crimes against muggles, something that Harry was taking particularly seriously, and if the Wizard's Council were doing nothing about it, the situation could become rather grim indeed.
What Harry intended to do, Morgana didn't know, but it could not be left to continue.
Their kind was already persecuted against, and there needed to be no further reason for that to become worse because of the actions of a few.
"I think it must be ready soon," she sighed fondly.
Helga nodded and offered her an encouraging smile.
"I expect so," she replied. "It will happen, and your lives will be all the better for it. What is this you're making?"
She was tending to one of the cauldrons, the brew within a complex and most useful one.
"It is called Wolfsbane. It allows a sufferer of Lycanthropy to retain their own mind during their transformations."
Helga nodded appreciatively.
"It is a most unpleasant disease," she sighed.
"One that does not have a cure, even in the future. Wolfsbane is the best available to them."
"Perhaps it is incurable," Helga pointed out.
"Or maybe no one has cared enough to truly focus on it," Morgana countered, wincing as the baby kicked once more.
Helga nodded.
"I suppose that is quite likely. "I expect you have a considerable storage of different potions by now."
"I do, but there are many that can certainly be improved. Salazar is like a child when I allow him in there with them."
Helga laughed heartily.
"I suppose I am the same with the plants you have. Some of them are extraordinary, almost as much as this little one," she added, nodding towards Hedwig.
Morgana had become fond of the owl herself, and the bond she and Harry shared was special. With Sirius opting to not join them, she brought her husband some comfort in the man's absence.
Still, Morgana knew that Harry missed him and those left behind dearly, but this was indeed his home, and despite wanting little more than to live in peace, he once more found himself involved with the affairs of those that should know better.
Not that Morgana minded.
She had known Harry's ways long before they'd married, and she would expect nothing less of him when it came to such injustices, especially since Arthur was taking note of it.
It was not something the king could ignore forever, after all.
(Break)
It had taken Harry but a few moments to realise that there was indeed quite the troubling problem with magicals victimising muggles. In the five years that had gone by in his absence here, it had become much more common, more so than Arthur had likely realised.
The very same night he had spoken to the king, Harry had returned to East Anglia to investigate the matter, only to find it took little effort on his part to discover his first instance of such occurrences.
He was in Theotford when he'd come upon a popular tavern, and the traces of an attack that had happened the previous day.
"Listen, I don't know what happened," the barman murmured fearfully. "They came in, had few ales, and it turned ugly quite quickly. My lad, he tried to put a stop to it…"
He broke and swallowed deeply as he shook his head.
"I don't know what's wrong with him."
Fortunately, the man's son had only been stunned, but having pressed the proprietor, Harry had learned this wasn't an isolated incident, nor was it the most concerning.
Muggles had died at the hands of magicals, thefts were regular and the lesser of crimes against them, but it was considerably more sinister than Harry could've imagined.
Some muggles were rounded up and set loose, given a pre-determined time to flee, before magicals would hunt them for sport, relieving them of their heads for trophies.
It was a sickening revelation to Harry, who had become quickly determined to put an end to it.
To that end, he had become a frequent patron over the past days in the hope of catching those responsible in the act.
"I'll have another," he called to the barman, who nodded before pouring him a cup of ale. "Anyone you recognise?"
The barman shook his head.
"Not yet," he murmured worriedly, "but my boy woke up today. He's got a nasty headache, but…"
"It could've been worse," Harry sighed.
It certainly could've, but he shouldn't have been put through such an ordeal in the first place, which only made Harry question just what had happened these past years.
Surely the Wizard's Council was aware of the incidents?
Harry had scarcely looked into the matter and had learned more than enough for action to be taken.
Did they just not care?
Even more concerning was Myrddin's lack of attentiveness.
It was him promoting the coming together of the two communities, and he undoubtedly knew of the unpleasantness occurring up and down the country.
Why had he not intervened?
Harry suspected the man either didn't know the extent of the transgressions, or he too simply didn't care.
Harry did, and he would do all he could to stop the muggles being harmed by his own kind.
It was the sudden gust of wind that blew in as the door opened that pulled him from his thoughts, and the expression of the barman shifted to one of abject fear.
A group of men and women had entered, seven in all, and were rather raucous doing so.
"We'll have ale," one of the men demanded.
Shooting a glance towards him, Harry saw nothing familiar, but he didn't miss the handle of the wand protruding from his pocket, meaning this group were indeed witches and wizards.
The barman was immediately uneasy, but served the requested drinks, and the group remained standing by the bar, drinking and talking amongst themselves.
Perhaps they were merely innocent patrons, and those aware of magicals were only wary of them out of caution, but as Harry listened to the unveiled conversation unfold from the group, he expected there would be trouble.
Releasing a deep breath, he took another sip of his drink.
The man who had ordered theirs was evidently the leader of whatever nefarious hobbies they had opted, and he made no effort to conceal what they were discussing.
Evidently, they were not concerned about being overheard, and Harry suspected they had grown both bold and comfortable being so open that they had not considered the potential repercussions.
"That one," one of the women in the group murmured, nodding towards a lone female seated at one of the tables. "She seems lithe enough to make me work for it."
The man leading them grinned as he made a note on a piece of parchment, and Harry continued to listen in curiously as the others identified more men and women around the tavern.
"Him," one of the men finished, and Harry felt his gaze burning into his back.
He snorted to himself.
This would not end how they expected, nor how they hoped.
"Then I see no reason to delay," the leader declared, draining his cup.
Drawing his wand proved to be quite the error on his part.
Unwilling to allow what was to come unfold, Harry struck, his trusted knife relieving the man of his hand. Before any other could shake themselves from their shock, Harry brought his own wand to bear, quickly stunning three others before one of the men aimed a vicious rupturing curse towards him.
Harry parried the spell easily enough, but it had come closer than he was comfortable with given the enclosed space, and with another wave of his own wand, the room began to fill with a thick fog.
He disappeared within it and managed to stun another of the women before it was cleared, though not before he'd navigated himself behind the last of the men.
This one proved to be rather astute and managed to turn away from the spell, only for his breath to hitch in his lungs, courtesy of Harry ramming his fist into his sternum.
Having doubled over, he quickly crumpled to the ground as his head bounced off the side of the bar from another blow.
"Drop it!" Harry warned as the last of the women aimed her wand at him.
Looking around, she thought better of meeting a similar fate to her companions, and she lowered it with a glare, only to collapse to the ground where she was quickly tied up along with the rest of the group.
"My hand," the leader whimpered.
"You're bloody lucky that's all I took," Harry huffed, repairing the damage done to the tavern with a final wave of his wand before retrieving the stack of parchment the man had been writing on.
It was a list of wagers, dating back to more than two years prior, and a list of muggles that had been hunted and caught at his behest.
He'd made quite the tidy sum, but what was most sobering was the accompanying words next to each of those that had been hunted.
All but only a few of around two hundred or so had been killed during the pursuits, and though no names of those that partook was listed, Harry had more than enough evidence to see the leader never experience a day of freedom again.
But where to take them?
There were no Aurors, nor any magical law enforcement as far as Hary was aware. More troubling, however, was that there seemed to be no law and order at all.
Shaking his head, he placed a coin on the bar before gathering those in his custody, activating a portkey when he'd done so.
There would be no assistance from his own kind, but he knew of one place he could take them, for all the good it would do.
Still, Arthur was the King of Britain, and if there was anyone with such authority, it was him.
With a shake of his head, Harry approached the gates of Camelot, uncertain he was doing the right thing, but with little other choice, he once more found himself here.
(Break)
Being the king in such a vast land, Arthur was used to his sleep being broken regularly, but as he entered the throne room shortly after being summoned, he frowned at the pale guard waiting for him.
"What is it?" Arthur asked curiously, his gaze shifting towards the door as it opened and a breathless Leofric entered.
"Well, my king, Sir Harry has arrived at the gate with seven prisoners," the guard explained.
"Then bloody well let him in," Leofric instructed.
The guard nodded, and all but sprinted from the room to do what he was bid, whilst Arthur took a seat on his throne.
"You do not seem so surprised, my king," Leofric commented. "It's been almost seven years…"
"Not so long for me, old friend," Arthur broke in.
Leofric was curious, but he said nothing as Gawain and Lancelot entered, evidently having been roused by the commotion. Only a moment later, however, the guard's words proved to be truthful as Harry was led in, accompanying seven others, who had been bound together.
One of the men was bereft of his hand, but the wound had been tended to somewhat crudely.
"Sir Harry," Arthur greeted the man fondly. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."
"Nor I," Harry sighed, as ever, not following protocol by prostrating himself before the king.
Not that Arthur cared for such things from the man.
He'd never been conventional, and he didn't expect that would ever change.
"You brought me prisoners."
"I did, only because I do not know what to do with them," Harry explained. "I caught them attempting to capture some of your kind with the intention of hunting them for sport. You will find a rather detailed account of the crimes of this man in this."
He held aloft a stack of parchment, and Arthur gestured for Leofric to fetch it for him.
Upon doing so, he and Harry shared a fond greeting, and the king frowned deeply as he read through the contents of what was handed to him. It made for a rather grim revelation, and he could only shake his head as he levelled a glare at the prisoners.
"It is abhorrent," he murmured. "What do you think gives you the right to do this?"
Before the trembling, handless man could answer, the door opened once more, and Myrddin entered, though he paused at the sight of Harry Potter, his eyes widening in surprise before he managed to school his features.
"Is there something amiss, my king?" he asked, his gaze remaining firmly on the wayward knight.
Arthur said nothing as he handed the man the stack of parchment, and Myrddin's gaze snapped towards the handless man.
"My king," he sighed, "this man is the son of a prominent member of the Wizard's Council. His apprehension will not be well-received."
"Then perhaps this man's son should have been taught better," Harry interjected.
His voice was quiet, but there was an undeniable edge to it.
Myrddin shook his head.
"There is no law against any of this."
"No law?" Arthur scoffed. "So, your kind are allowed to hunt us as though we are damned wild beasts? Look how many have been killed for the fun of it, Myrddin!"
"My king, I morally object to it, just as you do, but with no law…"
"That's just vile," Harry cut in irritably. "There may be no law or any willing to implement one, but we have a moral obligation to protect the muggles from those of our kind that would harm them. If the Wizard's Council cannot even do that, what bloody use are they? What the hell do they even do?"
Myrddin's nostrils flared.
"They oversee…"
"Piss all!" Harry cut in once more. "They are a bunch of self-serving pricks. If they truly cared about any of us, this kind of thing would not be happening. No magical has any right to harm a muggle, especially for the sake of sport, and I will not tolerate it. Do you know these members of the council?"
"I am familiar with some," Myrddin answered.
"Then you will find a way to grant me an audience with them," Harry demanded.
Myrddin snorted and shook his head.
"They will not…"
"They will," Harry assured the man. "You can tell them from me that they will either meet with me, or I will make it my business to find them. I am not asking, Emrys, I am telling you. Now, I expect this one's father will be rather displeased with his capture?"
"He will," Myrddin said gravely.
"Good, then I suggest your reach out to him, and do so quickly. This is not something I will tolerate any longer. This is no isolated incident, Myrddin, and I would have them stopped."
Myrddin shook his head once more.
"If we are to co-exist…"
Harry snorted.
"Muggles will always fear us, no matter what assurances you give them, and with good reason. Our worlds are separate for a reason, and it is staring you right in the face. I admit, those who wish to exploit the muggles are few, but more than enough that it is a problem. As you are unwilling to do anything about it, perhaps the Wizard's Council will see reason."
Myrddin merely offered the man and Arthur a bow before taking his leave of the room.
"Do you expect they will?" Arthur asked worriedly.
Harry shook his head.
"No, I do not," he sighed. "If they did, this wouldn't be happening at all."
"Then what do you expect to achieve by meeting with them?"
"A measure of just who it is I am dealing with."
Arthur was most displeased by this unexpected development.
The reports he'd received had mentioned nothing of what had been brought to his attention this evening, and he couldn't help but wonder just how many such transgressions had taken place.
He suspected he would not like the truth of it, but as with everything, he would confront it head-on, and with little deduction on his part, he suspected that Harry would not allow it to continue, for what his input was worth amongst his own kind.
"What shall we do with them?" Leofric asked, nodding towards the prisoners.
"Lock them in the dungeons," Harry answered before Arthur could. "I have already relieved them of their wands, and they have been searched. They will not be going anywhere."
Arthur nodded his agreement, and Leofric, along with Gawain led the group from the room, leaving the king with quite the headache to nurse.
"Could you not have just brought some meat and mead?" he sighed.
"Believe me, I don't like this anymore than. It will mean trouble, and likely for me."
"This Wizard's Council…"
"I don't know any of them, but if they are anything like I expect them to be, they will not be very helpful with this. Send for me if I'm needed, and I will do what I can."
"Where are you going?" Arthur asked.
"Home," Harry sighed irritably. "My work will continue, and I will share what I learn with you."
Without another word, he left with a troubled frown creasing his brow.
Arthur nodded gratefully as he leaned back in his throne.
He was furious that this had been allowed to happen, that Myrddin had not kept abreast of such things well enough to be aware of it.
Arthur took some comfort knowing that it was only few magicals doing such things, but more troubled that there was no law against it. He'd witnessed for himself what magicals could do, and there was never any reason that his own kind should be victimised by them.
It wasn't as though they were a threat to the likes of Harry Potter.
Perhaps bringing the two cultures together was not such a good idea, after all.
It was a purveying thought as he pondered the fate of those that Harry brought to them. If the Wizard's Council would not punish them, then Arthur would.
He certainly could not allow them to go free after what they'd done, and though Myrddin would not like it, he wouldn't change Arthur's mind.
The king released a deep breath, pondering what could be done to assure such things did not continue.
Short of having the cooperation of magicals, he wasn't sure what he could do.
It was something he would need to raise with Myrddin as a priority, and if the two of them could not reach a suitable accord, perhaps he would have need of Harry Potter once more.
(Break)
She winced again as another stabbing pain was felt in her lower abdomen, her grip tightening on the edge of the table she was leaning on. They were becoming more frequent, and Morgana knew the babe was indeed on the way.
Only to clarify her point further, she felt a sudden wetness spill down the inside of her legs and looked up to meet the horrified gaze of Salazar.
"Now?" he yelped.
Morgana nodded and Salazar shot to his feet.
"I will send for Helga," he declared as he drew his wand, "and Harry."
"He's already on his way," Morgana said dismissively, wincing as another wave of discomfort washed over her.
She did her utmost to steady her breathing, and it was only a few moments later that the door to their home was flung open.
Morgana had never seen Harry so panicked. His eyes were wide and his own breathing laboured from having sprinted through the grounds and forest to reach her.
"What do we do?" he asked.
"I don't know," Salazar huffed.
Morgana could only shake her head.
"Just shut up," she interjected as the two men continued to bicker, both as clueless as the other when it came to such matters.
Much to her relief, Helga did indeed arrive only a moment later, her hair in disarray, and a pale Godric in her wake.
"Let us get you somewhere more comfortable," she said calmly. "I think I could use it too," she added, shooting a glare towards her colleague.
"The hors was the fastest way here!" Godric protested.
Helga merely shook her head at him and led Morgana through to the next room.
The baby was indeed on the way, and judging by the woman's discomfort, it wouldn't be a long wait.
(Break)
Despite having suspected his presence across the country, Myrddin was taken aback by the sudden appearance of Harry Potter. In truth, he was less surprised the man's re-emergence brought with it a most unwelcome problem.
The members of the Wizard's Council would be most displeased by one of their sons being apprehended, and Myrddin suspected more so than what the man had been doing.
He'd expected there to be teething troubles with the coming together of muggles and magicals, had anticipated bouts of unpleasantness, but nothing like this.
Muggle hunting.
Myrddin had known of the petty thievery, even the occasional violent altercation, but not what he had learned of only moments prior.
Nonetheless, the Wizard's Council would not take kindly to Potter bringing it to the attention of Arthur, and Myrddin could not disagree with the stance they would take.
Already, the king was having his reservations about bringing their worlds together, and this would certainly not help in convincing him it was the right thing to do.
He cursed under his breath at the sudden, unwelcome return of the Crow.
It would cause trouble.
Potter would not respect the authority of the Wizard's Council, and they certainly would not be intimidated by him, though Myrddin could not help but think they should be.
Still, the better part of seven years was a long time to go by, and Potter's reputation had been all but forgotten by many.
Not Myrddin, however, nor those that had witnessed for themselves all he'd done.
The only saving grace was that it was to be Myrddin to discuss the matter with the council first, and they would, at the very least, heed his warning.
Not that it would make much of a difference to what he expected to be the outcome.
The rich and powerful would not be so easily cowed by Potter's actions, and Myrddin did not doubt that the situation could well become most unpleasant for all involved.
In truth, he knew it would be best if any unpleasantness could be avoided, for now at least, but for that to be so, he would need to consider his next moves carefully.
He would need to appease Arthur, the members of the council, and much to his chagrin, Harry Potter himself.
Thoughts of the latter gave him pause.
It had been almost seven years since he'd seen him, and the man had not aged a day.
Where he had been, Myrddin didn't know, but he was back, and his presence undoubtedly meant that the peace would soon be disturbed once more.
(Break)
To distract himself from what his wife was enduring, Harry had been pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace for some time, doing his utmost to focus on anything other than the pained moans of the woman.
"You'll wear the floor out doing that," Godric quipped. "Take a seat, lad."
Harry did so and released a deep breath.
He couldn't remember a time he'd been so terrified, not even when he'd faced Voldemort had he been so worried.
Even so, he knew being frantic would do him no good.
"What do you know of the Wizard's Council?" he asked the two men.
"Why?" Godric asked with a frown.
"Because I may have made an enemy of them."
Godric snorted amusedly.
"I'm surprised it has taken this long," he sighed. "Well, the Wizard's Council is comprised of forty members, each of them the richest and most influential witches and wizards in the country. Honestly, they took it upon themselves to become an authority, making up laws that suited them, and making sure others adhere to them."
"How do they do that?"
"They have a large group of others below them. If a citizen has any concerns, they can send for the group to investigate them. Based on their findings, they make a judgement, or if something is beyond their capability, the Wizard's Council will meet to discuss it."
Harry could only shake his head.
"So, they decided to elevate themselves into positions of power?"
"Gold is power, Harry. Gold brings influence and influence certain privileges. We were both asked to join them over the years, as was Rowena."
"We declined," Salazar said gruffly. "We did not want the influence of an outside power within the school. What did you do to provoke their ire?"
"I caught a bunch of magicals hunting muggles for sport," Harry explained. "I removed the hand of one of them, and it turns out he is the son of one of the members."
Salazar released a deep sigh.
"It could be a problem."
Godric snorted.
"Only if the shits make it one. It will not be well-received that one of their sons was purposely harming muggles, well, it shouldn't. I can't say I know enough about them to be so confident."
Harry nodded.
"I suppose I'll have to see what comes of it," he mused aloud, standing suddenly as the door to the bedroom opened.
He was greeted by the sight of a beaming Helga, who beckoned him to enter the room.
"Go on, lad," Godric urged, shoving him forward. "Your future awaits."
Harry took a calming breath as he entered the room to find Morgana propped up on the pillows of their bed. In her arms, she held a swathe of blankets, and she offered him a tired smile.
"Would you like to hold your son, Harry?" she whispered, her smile widening as she lifted the bundle towards him.
He could only nod as the blankets were placed in his arms, and as he looked upon the tiny fingers of the boy, and the small tuft of dark hair protruding from within, Harry could only marvel at the babe.