Good day, everybody! Apologies for the long delay. I always seem to promise a lot and never fully deliver, do I? Well, to make up for it, here is a nice and juicy 5500 chapter which I hope will help whet your appetite. I've changed a few things around so that there's new content for all.

Enjoy :)

In the Hands of a Prophesised Vice

Chapter Twenty-One - Maleficent

Morgana's POV

The mindwalker appeared to her not as a person, but rather a concept of a person: a small ball of jumbled up ideas and thoughts accompanied by the core traits which made up the facets the soul. It was easy to recognise them not because they were the most frequent intruder – although they were – but because they shone ethereal silver, the light emitting no matter how impenetrable her defences were.

Now, however, there were flashes of crimson and sapphire and her visitor was less orderly, less contained. They seemed almost angry as they expanded, unusually attempting to devour everything in its way.

"Who is thee?" Morgana mused. "Who has the power to seek me all eventide, never to tire?"

The mindwalker pulsed. Though it had no mouth, nor arms to gesticulate with, nor a body in which to convey language, somehow Morgana subconsciously understood it.

I do not mean to seek you. I do not WANT to seek you.

"Then thee is very powerful indeed."

Power. No, I'm not powerful – not like YOU. I'm NOBODY.

Its anger and distain were evident, the tone almost mocking as the mindwalker claimed they were no-one of consequence. It was a curious mix – one who so openly flaunted the innermost sanctuary of the infamous Queen's mind would commonly claim credit for such a violating action, delighting in the misery that it caused. There was only one who had never done such a thing.

Inwardly, Morgana snarled.

Merlin.

Unsurprisingly, this inaction irked Morgana. How dare somebody violate her privacy, in such a primitive way, and not even claim responsibility?

"Thee is brazenly foolish for one held in my mind. Thy invade sanctuary mine all eventide and make falsehoods about thy power? Henceforth desist. In this plane of truth, one cannot lie."

It grew in response, not to a threatening size, but enough that when it throbbed once more, Morgana could make out flashes of images within it: a figure cowering against a wall as threatening shadows surround them; a twisted face laughing mockingly and then –

Her face. Her petrified, screaming face; her eyes shining gold.

Morgana blinked, and then said: "Pray tell the meaning of this."

Though calm, her tone belayed the fragility of her state from Morgana being momentarily rattled. Her words were angrily brittle, yet the intruder did not notice and the walls around them flickered. Although it was hard to tell in the nothingness, when they solidified, they seemed lighter than before, the wood morphing from walnut to yew.

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." The ball pulsated angrily. "And what's more, I hate you too."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the truth you seek, however, isn't it?"

Morgana stared back, coldly amused. "Thy knows me not."

"I know enough. And I hate you for it."

The childish answer only served to make Morgana's amusement grow. The mindwalker seemingly registered this, growing once more.

"You think I'm a fool or a loony, don't you? Yet I am made to waltz through your mind most nights. You think I'm stupid enough not to know what it is I'm forced to see? Before you knew I was here, I danced through your memories and I saw you."

"And that made thy hate me?"

"How could it not?" The mindwalker spat. "After I saw your soul, how could I not hate you? I loathe you Morgana Pendragon, more than you could ever know."

For a moment, she lost control. Her ears roared and she forgot her senses, as she dimly registered her magic racing through her veins, to her eyes, to her fingers.

"Get out!" Morgana hissed.

An icy pit formed at the bottom of her stomach, and as Morgana regained herself, she gratefully descended into its depths, welcoming the cold, the roar now only a muted rumble.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD."

Morgana was always present for the morning meal. Granted, she would arrive partway through, but that was not due to being in slumber, but more that it enabled the Malfoys to maintain the illusion of privacy. It subsequently ensured that they would be no less than cordial when she inevitably arrived, usurping Lucius' traditional place at the head of the table. He no longer sat there now, instead making content with his position at the immediate right hand.

It must be noted that she did wasted not the morning time either: she preferred to dress in the traditional manner, and it took time to craft the perfect ensemble as to belay her best assets. The house elf she had been assigned had not become more affable either, which was fortunate as she rather delighted in watching it search for the quickest opportunity to exit from her company.

She was less at ease today, the throbbing of her temple returning with a vengeance even though Lucius had bottled the elixir she had ordered, ensuring that one would appear every night by her bedside. She had already downed it in a practised move, and the distaste no longer bothered her. It seemed that the only comfort she would have today was the knowledge that if she was experiencing comfort to this degree - taking into account that it was her mind that the altercation took place in - it was likely that her mindwalker would most definitely regret their latest excursion and the pointless waste of energy.

The Lady of the House gently set down her buttered toast. Though it barely made a noise, it was enough to shake Morgana out of her thoughts. She watched with detached interest as Lady Malfoy reached for a napkin, dabbing her lips delicately. Once she deemed herself free of all contaminants, she reached out to the owl perched on the candelabra. It had presumably arrived whilst Morgana was deep in her contemplations, she mused, eyeing the creature with distrust as it dutifully presented its leg to the other female.

Correspondence: how frightfully dull.

"Tea, my lady?"

The Queen sniffed.

"It is of the mint variety, your highness."

She waved her hand in acquiescence as she decided to refocus on breaking her fast. Mint tea, she had found, had many healing properties, and if infused correctly with jasmine and honey, helped to relieve some of her head pains she seemed to permanently suffer from. With a renewed interest in the morning, Morgana began to dish herself fresh fruit from the varieties piled in the array of bowls before her.

Yet the setting down of the teapot by Lucius after he had finished serving was too much for her however, causing her to inhale sharply, the air whistling through her clenched teeth as she instinctively brought her hands up to cradle her temple.

"Was the draft not to your satisfaction, my lady?"

"No." The answer was rather obvious, Morgana pondered, but then again men were rarely known for their observation skills. "I require access to your physician chambers. It seems I am required to heal myself."

"Of course, my lady, I shall see to it that the room shall be set aside for you with the appropriate equipment."

"Good."

She jabbed a slice of pink fruit with her fork and brought it to her lips. The juice filled her mouth, causing her taste-buds to tingle from the tart taste. Yet the sharpness helped to clear her head, leading her to be drawn into a conversation with Lucius about the inanities of the weather. The man was confused by her constant ventures outdoors and was subtly enquiring as to the reason for them. Of course, she didn't tell him. Though she was living in his hearth, she bore him no loyalty, nor truth.

Their discussion was halted however by Lady Malfoy's intake of breath. Though it was small, it was an uncommon sound to emit from such a lady of good breeding. They both looked up, to see the blonde set down her letter, her mouth tight.

"It seems Draco has much to say regarding the celebrations of Samhain. He speaks of the feast and the decorations, noting that they can hardly be compared to our own. Yet, he also mentions a trick the Castle played on the students. It comprises of a weather staff, and great discussions on beard up-keep, with a meeting which resulted in a centaur bowing not to Death, but to a man. Pray tell, your highness," Lady Malfoy said with cool amusement, "Of the one named Emrys."

Morgana savagely bit the sour fruit in response, letting the juices flow down his chin.

As he slowly came to, Merlin automatically scrunched up his eyes in order to block out the midmorning light streaming down. As he lay there, inwardly lamenting that he had missed breakfast, which Gaius had always maintained was the meal of the day – even though Merlin missed it more than he ate it – he reassured himself that he would pop into the kitchen for a snack before the Potions class at ten.

TEN!

Merlin's eyes flew open as he shot up in bed, already cursing the Triple Goddess that he had overslept and had likely missed half the lesson. He reached over the side of his bed into the darkness to rummage for a pair of socks –

Darkness?

Merlin stopped, flummoxed. Indeed, his unconscious description of his surroundings was correct – it was dark in the dorm. Additionally, now that he had paused, he could hear the low rumble of Ronald's snoring resonate through the room, with Neville's small sighs permeating the air. His dorm-mates were fast asleep, and as he walked over to the window and moved the curtain out of the way, the sky attested to his findings: it was not mid-morning, but rather midnight. The moon was high in her apex, her soft light softly illuminating Hogwarts' surroundings.

The Warlock frowned; his mind uneasy.

"How is thee in this plane, when thy sibling visits her?"

His voice was muted in order to avoid waking his sleeping compatriots as he addressed the silver maiden. Sadly, she did not reply, though it seemed that she shone brighter for a moment, as if in response.

He sighed: he was awake too far now to return to his slumber and it would not be fair to stay. His eyes flashed gold, and he caught his jacket out of the air a moment later, shuddering with pleasure when his arms were enveloped in the soft leather.

These were, indeed, troubling times. Thus, as was his tradition, he went to his one true confidents, the only constant in his long life.

The stars.

The coolness of the stone floor beneath his bare feet felt wondrous as he padded softly up the stairs towards the summit of the Astronomy Tower. He marvelled at how smooth the rock was beneath him, worn down by thousands upon thousands of children's feet over the years. When he had first walked this path, just over a millennium ago, the stone had been rough, the texture coarsely unrefined, as there had been more pressing issues than the buffing of the floor. It still was, around the edges, but the centre of the stairs was as smooth and as deadly as silk: beautifully treacherous to those maligned enough to wield it.

"Morgana."

His mind had wandered, as it often did, to the Witch. He wouldn't call her his nemesis – whilst she had been once upon a time, it was a time that had now passed, and as she had done, so had he. He had lived and breathed a thousand lifetimes and had done so much that the man he had used to be was nothing more than a babe to him now.

Would she recognise him, if he stood before her now?

Sometimes, he would look at himself in the mirror and not recognise the man that stood before him. She professed that she had been watching him in her prison beyond the veil, and it was true that he had maliciously given her that ability if she was willing to sacrifice a part of herself…

"It matters not," He said to the empty corridor, fighting the unease within him that had grown ever more discontent the more he pondered about her punished life.

And it didn't – she had deserved every facet of the punishment he had wrought on her with his wrath and his pain. The suffering she had endured had not been enough for her lifetime, let alone a thousand. If – no not if - when he finally met her once more on the battlefield, he was going to relish the torment he would inflict, knowing that this time, it would bring back his King. Whether she knew him or not.

That was what mattered: not Hogwarts, or Harry, or even Morgana. Arthur had been his world.

No.

Arthur was his world and Merlin was going to do anything it took to reunite with his King.

Even if it killed her. Even if it killed him.

"Leave me alone."

Merlin hesitated; one foot suspended above the step. He looked around in confusion, before realising that the voice had sounded from above and had simply reverberated down. Still, the owner had been female and although had sounded young, it was a bit of a broad category - because wasn't everybody young when you thought about it? Especially in regard to him – and it was perfectly possible he was walking right into a messy break-up scene. He had done it before, after all and it was always so awkward.

A male laughed: the timbre old and unyielding.

Familiar.

"And with no thought to your compatriot? I think not, little one."

"Don't," the girl hissed, "Call me that."

More laughter. The hairs on Merlin's arms stood up on end and a shiver went down his spine at the callous sound.

Slowly, he resembled his climb, utilising his skill as a servant to move unseen around the castle, making neither noticeable sound nor movement which could be discerned by the human eye.

"So impetuous –"

"I'm warning you." The girl's voice was steady, complete in her self-belief.

Silence.

The footsteps were slow, treacherously so.

"I will never bow down to y-"

The snarl was cut off. Then she began to scream, a terrible sound filled with pain so raw and unimaginable that momentarily, Merlin stuttered to a halt, his adolescent animal mind taking control as it struggled to comprehend the unfathomable. The uneasy feeling intensified, and something which suspiciously felt like –

Fear.

Merlin was afraid.

The realisation was enough to break him out of his stalemate. Because there was nothing that could conceivably scare this immortal. And even if there was, then the little girl out on the roof must be petrified.

With that, Merlin sprang into action, taking the last few steps thrice at a time. He cursed as his foot slipped on the last step and as a reactionary measure, flung himself out of the passage to avoid falling back down the stairs. The cool night air was a balm to his feverish – wait why he was feverish? – forehead, helping to add a touch of clarity to his muddled thoughts as he took in the situation.

For there was blood everywhere. The floor was slick with it, the crimson glistening in the half-light the moon provided. Deliberately keeping to the shadows, the Warlock stepped forward, tracking the trail of blood to its source. Around the large astrological instrument, he went, his right hand out, palm extended as he searched becoming more and more frantic as time ticked on.

Belatedly, he realised that the girl had stopped screaming.

"Where are you," he half hissed, half snarled, revolting against the sickening weight in his stomach as he minds spoke treacherously that the amount of blood –

A whisper of cloth on tile; a quiet sigh.

They were on the roof.

He was up there in an instant, his eyes gleaming in the half-light, echoing the dawn that was shortly to follow. Across from Merlin, being dragged over the parapet was the limp body of a girl. One arm stuck out at an unnatural angle, bone sticking out of the bloody flesh which leaked blood, as did the scratches that marred her body. Her long blonde hair trailed in the non-existent wind, occasionally getting caught in the undying flame that flew above her.

Immediately, Merlin conjured up a barrier parallel to the parapet to prevent the girl from being dragged any further over the edge and he began the struggle to reach her, his feet continually sliding and squelching on the already slippery slate tiles. It seemed to work too – she slammed up against it as her assailant struggled, their heaving only making her slide further up the translucent barrier.

Then the laughter came, slow and mocking, barely audible above the wind.

"You think that such a pitiful work of sorcery would stop me? Pathetic."

The girl's ascension stopped. A shudder. A sigh.

Then she dropped and fell to her death.

"NO!"

Merlin sprinted the last few paces, as he reached out to his left and pulled, his shirt sleeve rippling as he brought his hand over his body and out to his right. The barrier disappeared with a small schuk!

Just in time too, because Merlin had launched himself off the edge and into the abyss.

The world seemed to both blur and still as he fell. His magic itched beneath his skin, yearning to take his shape and morph into his avian form. But Merlin did not and instead he grabbed onto his magic in fistfuls, almost yanking it out of him as he shoved it towards? In front? Below? the girl, forgoing the usual incantations and rituals.

Raw magic was the only thing that could save them now.

He commanded the air to move its resistance to him to the girl, helping to speed up his fall and slow down hers. Although the distance between them grew shorter, so did that of the ground and the girl. Closing his eyes, the Warlock gave a thankful prayer to the Triple Goddess for allowing the girl to retain unconsciousness.

If he did not succeed, this would be a horrendous way to die.

She grew closer, and closer, slowing down more as Merlin willed it. And what Merlin willed, nature responded to, reality reshaping itself on his whim. If he reached out now, he might just be able to grasp her hair, her head. Closer and closer, they came, so much so that they were almost on top of each other, but the angle still wasn't quite right –

There!

The Warlock reached out and snatched the girl out of the air, bringing her body close to his. He cradled her in his arms, to envelop her within his as much as possible. His eyes shone brighter than they had ever done so before, and then they disappeared.

Madame Pomfrey shrieked when she rounded the corner to view the source of the commotion to find Merlin and his charge hovering six feet above the ground before crashing into the floor.

"What on earth –"

Merlin groaned, lifting his head to blearily look at the mediwitch who was hurrying towards them, her wand already out and casting diagnostic spells.

"Astronomy Tower. Hurry."

Madame Pomfrey nodded as she lent down to survey the girl who was still encased in his arms.

"Minerva, there's been another incident. Go immediately to the Astronomy Tower."

"'s dangerous –"

Madame Pomfrey eyed him as she said: "Be ready for anything."

A soft breeze caressed his face, and the hospital wing seemed darker than it had been before. Yet barely a second later a blur of light from behind Merlin's head materialised, moving swiftly across the wing towards the Mediwitch. When it paused a moment later, the light solidified, and he found an ethereal tabby cat sitting on his chest.

"Acknowledged. I'm on my guard. Severus is on his way."

"You see? She's safe now, I promise Mister Ambrosia."

Merlin blinked up at the witch in confusion.

She gesticulated towards the girl still wrapped up in his arms, his body shielding her own from the floor.

"You may let go of her. I cannot attend to her whilst she is held so."

"I- of course, Madame."

It took a surprising amount of effort for Merlin to release his grip, his muscles unwilling to comply with the order to unclench his fingers. As soon as he did so however, Madame Pomfrey levitated her up and onto a bed and busied herself with diagnostics. Spells flashed in the air, some lingering to display certain medical characteristics whilst others were absorbed into the girl's skin, whilst even more were rejected, simply fading into obscurity.

Merlin sat up, letting out another groan of surprise as he did so. He had not thought that the fall would have hurt to this extent, but then again, he had little experience with falling from great heights. It was possible that such a reaction was the norm. Whilst it was not the most painful encounter he had met over the centuries, the dull ache which had settled into his bones and the light throb his left ankle made was not something to be taken lightly – for a lesser being, the culmination would likely to have led to the victim skirting the boundary between consciousness.

"There, that should do it." With one last flourish, Madame Pomfrey turned to work on Merlin. Unheeding of his protests, he was levitated on an opposing bed, and she had just begun the usual diagnostic spells when the squeak of a faraway door opening echoed through the hospital wing.

In a flash, Merlin was off the bed and standing in front of the matron, his right-hand extended palm out in front of him.

"Wha-"

Although the footsteps were slow, they were purposeful. Cloth whispered as it was dragged along the floor, coming closer and closer to the door. The gait was light, but there was something to the tread –

The door to the hospital wing opened and Professor Snape stepped through, closing the door carefully behind him. He stopped at the sight before him, his obsidian eyes carefully taking in the unusual situation.

"And what, is the meaning of this, Ambrosia?" He asked silkily.

Merlin exhaled shakily.

"The attacker – I – I thought –"

"Oh. Thank you dear – it was very sweet to protect me like that."

Gently, Madame Pomfrey placed her hand over Merlin's extended one, stepping out to the side as she did so. After bringing his hand back down to his side her hands slid up to his shoulders as she led him back to sit on the bed. The light from her spells lit up the room once more as she resumed tending to the Warlock, the hovering displays threatening to make Merlin's head ache.

"You saw who did this?"

The sharpness of the Potion Master's voice helped pierce through the haze. Merlin blinked twice blearily, his mind struggling to string his thoughts together.

"I heard only his footsteps and his voice."

"His? Describe it to me."

"Patience, Severus," The Mediwitch cautioned. "Can't you see the poor boy is in shock?"

Shock?

Merlin had never been in shock before – at least, not that he could remember. He had thought it rather unlikely to happen to him. Indeed, the label didn't sit right with him, irking him somewhat.

The dour man scowled and opened his mouth, but the Madame cut across him.

"Did you bring your potions? I have need of them. Miss Siolrog was attacked and well –" Her gaze flicked momentarily to Merlin, "I think it's best you evaluate the situation yourself."

Professor Snape nodded but moved not towards the girl, but towards Merlin. Shoving his hand into the depths of his robes, he withdrew some parchment and an already-inked quill. He thrust them at the Warlock, not bothering to look to see if Merlin had managed to grasp the objects before he left, the curtain swishing back into place behind him.

"Try not to be so thoughtless and use that brain of yours to write down your recollections regarding your assailant."

The Warlock scowled at the order. Carefully, he set the implements on the little bedside table to the right of him before rising off the bed. It was shameful to admit that he had momentarily forgotten about the state of the student he had rescued, so overcome was he by whatever had ailed him.

He knew of course, what had been ailing him. He simply didn't want to admit it.

"Mister Ambrosia –"

"Please, madame. I need to see her."

She surveyed him carefully, before giving him a curt nod.

"Very well. But then back to bed with you!"

Drawing back the curtain gained him a ferocious glare from the Potions Master, but Merlin ignored it as he passed through, dropping it back into place once he hobbled over to the chair next to her bed. For the first time since the wretched events had occurred, Merlin was able to look at the girl he had saved.

She was young – whilst that had been expected, it took him aback as to how young she was. Though her height would let her pass for a teenager, there was a softness to her face that belayed the truth of her years. Her blonde hair fanned over her pillow, the coiled edges giving the impression that she wore a halo of serpents. The cuts that had adorned her face were fading as the wondrous magic Pomfrey performed took effect.

Unbidden, a voice arose from the recesses of his mind, of a girl giggling at a joke he had made. Merlin tilted his head in confusion. Had he met her before?

"How is she?"

Snape looked up and his lip curled. "Do not profess your worry if you cannot even be inclined to fill out the parchment. Unless of course, you are more of a dunderhead that I thought possible."

Irritated, Merlin flicked his hand over his shoulder, his eyes gold.

"There. Parchment filled. Now, who is she? How is she?"

"You do not know her?"

Merlin shook his head. "I think – I think not, but one cannot be sure. I found her in this state."

The man sneered. "How gallant, to be such a hero."

Madame Pomfrey was back at the girl's bedsides and she hushed the Professor absentmindedly as she concentrated. She held out her hand for the potion that Snape held, uncorking it without looking when the precious cargo was transferred.

"Multiple lacerations, varying from superficial to downright dangerous. A worryingsome gnash and a large bump on the back of the head and although it might look bad, she's going to look worse tomorrow, as more bruises will form overnight."

"What of her arm?"

"The bone went through the skin. It has been snapped in two places and cracked in three. It was easier to vanish the bone and heal the skin then to push the bone back in and then heal it. But this takes longer. She'll have to take skele-gro and it's a process better suited to when she was unconscious, though I will have to reverse that state soon. With her head injuries, it's better safe than sorry."

Merlin nodded, assimilating the information. Though he had not practised for decades now, the treatment matched his own diagnosis he had made in the intervening seconds.

"I thank thee."

"Mister Ambrosia," The Mediwitch's voice was gentle and her eyes kind as she looked to the Warlock. "It's my job to heal all. It is not your fault that young Morsague ended in this way. Her injuries rest solely on the devil that caused it."

"Indeed, if you had not happened upon Miss Siolrog when you did, it is likely that she would have perished."

"Minerva! You frightened me so."

"Apologies Poppy," Professor McGonagall said, emerging from behind the curtain. "I thought it was better to let myself in."

"Any sign?"

"Of the miscreant who did this? No. Of what was inflicted upon Miss Siolrog? Not specifically, though there was plenty of evidence to suggest that it was brutal in the worst sort of way. No student could have done this, not even if they were the worst kind."

"You cannot be so sure," Snape rebutted immediately. "Siolrog is of the Slytherin House –"

Professor McGonagall was already shaking her head. "You didn't see it Severus – the blood." She stopped, her face showcasing her rising nausea. "This goes beyond house rivalries. Hufflepuffs locked into a cupboard, kitchen pots shattering en mass. The suit of armour which ambushed my two third years -"

Poppy paled. "Some members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team visited me yesterday. Miss Chang was knocked unconscious when the brooms flew out at high speed out of the broom cupboard when she unlocked it. You know how I hate that sport, but even I had thought it was a rather unfortunate accident."

"The previous was easy enough to pass off has harmful pranks, or in the case of my Gryffindors, a poorly executed one. I know you suspected the twins, Severus, but even you must concede that they would never go so far. No. The culprit didn't bother masquerading their actions this time."

"Poor girl."

They fell quiet as they looked upon the peacefully sleeping Slytherin. McGonagall was the first to speak.

"If I'm being rude then please excuse me, but why are you not in your night things Poppy?"

"I had a late-night visitor, and something she said had me wondering."

"Wondering?" Snape's gaze was shrewd. "Who was this visitor of yours? A student I presume."

"Yes." She paused. "It was Miss Lovegood."

Merlin looked up. "Luna was here?"

"She didn't say anything to you?" Pomfrey responded with surprise.

"No." Merlin murmured, more to himself than the adults. "No, she did not. She has declined to speak with me for nigh on three days now."

Ever since the Cailleach and the unbreakable vow he had made.

I accept.

I ACCEPT.

"Then the die has been cast, and the deal wrought."

The adults exchanged glances above the bowed Warlock's head. Lost in his memories, he paid them little attention They held court with a wordless conversation then, no doubt in part on the particulars of the Old Religion. It was likely that there were going to be another slew of questions, but there was something more pressing on his mind.

"She's waking up."

The Slytherin had begun to twitch, her eyelashes fluttering as she surfaced from her unnatural state. She groaned, muttering something so quietly that not even Merlin with his enhanced hearing could discern it.

"My dear, you're safe now."

Madame Pomfrey's kindly meant speech was cut short by the girl sitting bolt upright, raising her hands up to shield her face. Her eyes were wide and searching as they darted around the room and when she spoke, her voice was raw from straining it so, though the snarl was still ever-present.

"Where is he?"

"Shh, my dear, you're safe now. We're in the hospital wing. My name is Madame Pomfrey, the mediwitch at Hogwarts."

The platitudes did little to calm the Slytherin down and she jumped violently when the Matron laid a tender hand on her shoulder, pushing it off instantly. She shimmied up the bed, backing up until her back hit the wooden head ball. She continued to search the room, but as she twisted, she made eye contact with Merlin.

He smiled reassuringly.

"You are safe, child."

At once she stilled. Taking that to be a sign that she was listening, Merlin continued to speak.

"I am sorry I failed to reach you sooner. I overheard the end of your confrontation, but I realised not that you were on the roof." He grimaced slightly. "I am afraid that the fault of some injuries lies on me. Transportation is a dreadful business and I am not as skilled as I once was."

"You apparated?!"

"How close?"

Another grimace. "Six feet in the air, I fear. I forgot to consider that we were not actually on the ground when we transported."

Morsague nodded thoughtfully. "An easy mistake to make, but an impressive feat nonetheless."

Merlin inclined his head, smiling gently at the pondering girl. "I thank thee."

Emotions swept across her face, but they passed too quickly for Merlin to discern what they could be. She bit her lip and hesitatingly, she brought her gaze up to Merlin's once more.

"So, he is gone?"

The whisper was plaintive and child-like, a complete contrast to the steady, albeit scratchy, voice she had only mere moments before. It belayed the fragility of the speaker and of their true age. Her eyes pinned the Warlock into place, her brown eyes seemingly reading his soul.

"I have not yet dealt with him."

She held his gaze for a moment and then –

"I hate him."

"As do I."

At that, the adrenaline rush garnered by her unfamiliar surroundings was spent. Her body became heavy in her exhaustion and she slumped down the headboard. Madam Pomfrey began to bustle about, speaking about her actions all the while in a clear attempt to avoid startling her patient. Professor McGonagall too came forward, a glass of water in her hands.

"Here, Mister Ambrosia. It's important to keep hydrated."

Merlin thanked her and raised the glass to his lips. As the water touched his lips, he was reminded of how parched he was, and so he drank greedily, draining the glass immediately.

"Now, I think it's best that you get some rest. It's been a long night for you. You'll be excused from Potions of course – Severus has already given his permission so there's no need to worry about that –"

"You poisoned thish-"

"Don't be silly, Ambrosia. It's only a wee sleeping dram. You'll feel right as rain when you wake up…"

Regarding my blog, after several of you professed and interest but failed to find it I decided to do a bit of digging. Amusingly, the day after I published my first post it fell prey to hackers? The firewall or whatever you call it kicked in and it kept them out, but it also brought down the blog! That's why people haven't been able to find it – it isn't on the web!

Currently, my focus is as of ever, university work. With it cancelled and exams morphing into a multitude of assessments it is more important now than ever that I work hard – because I haven't fully given up on my dream of achieving a first even though I was pretty shoddy on one of my January exams – but I swear that as soon as my last assessment is in that I will delve deep and fix it. After all, with another five months of quarantine, what else is there to do?

(My sister's answer to that question is incubating eggs. One goose, six duck and SIXTEEN chicken eggs to be precise)…

I hope everybody stays safe in these perilous and quite frankly, historic times.

Until the morrow!