"Stand aside you silly girl."

The red-headed woman stood firm before the cot, shielding the tiny boy from view. Voldemort snarled under his breath, he didn't have time for this. He flicked his wand and tossed her aside, pointing his wand at the Potter boy.

"Avada kedavra!"

The toddler slumped over dead, and the woman screamed, a broken, heart-rending scream of pure agony. Voldemort turned to her, wand ready… but he decided against it. Her suffering would be greater if he spared her. Laughing coldly, he apparated away.

Deep within the Department of Mystery, the glass ball of a prophecy exploded. The shards of glass scattered in every direction. Magic itself cried out that night. With the Potter boy's demise the balance of the old religion had been destroyed. In desperation, it sought to restore that balance.

That night, four children were conceived, and the Wizarding world would never be the same again.

Chapter 1

Eleven years and ten months later…

The first of September was a beautiful day, but now the sun did little to dispel the chill that had settled in the bones of the wizarding world. Gwendoline Mason shivered as she passed through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. The platform was fairly empty, parents were ushering their children onto the train as quickly as possible, mindful of the death eaters that lurked in the shadows. Her father put his arm around her protectively, and quickly found her a compartment with some other children, a boy and a girl

"Are you first years too?"

They nodded silently, and Gwen's father loaded her trunk onto the train before kissing her gently on the forehead.

"I'll see you at Christmas," he told her. "Be careful."

She nodded, and he left just as the guard blew his whistle. The train pulled out of the station.

"I'm Gwen Mason," she whispered after a little well.

"I'm Arthur Brown," said the boy. He had blond hair and blue eyes. "And this is my cousin, Lavender."

"Nice to meet you."

They fell into an uneasy conversation, constantly overshadowed by the black cloaked figures that patrolled the corridors.

Further down the train, Morrigan Selwyn was sat opposite a pair of twins. They weren't identical, a boy and a girl, but they shared the same black hair, blue eyes, and skinny frames. The girl, Megan Jones seemed nice enough, but her brother Myrddin hadn't said a word since they came into the compartment.

It was a long journey to Hogwarts, and night had fallen when they finally pulled into Hogsmeade station. There were death eaters waiting on the platform there too, and they guided the children in an orderly fashion to the carriages. Morrigan thought wistfully of the tales her parents had told about travelling across the black lake in boats, but those times were long gone.

When they reached the school, the first years were separated from the throng, and led to a small chamber to wait to be sorted. They stood in silence, many were pale and shivering. Eventually they were led into an equally silent great hall, lining up before the sorting hat. A death eater stepped forwards, list in hand.

"Abbot, Hannah."

And so the sorting began. There was no song from the sorting hat, no applause for the students that were sorted.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Brown, Arthur."

Arthur started at the sound of his name, and walked calmly forwards. Morrigan watched as the hat fell over his eyes.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Soon it was the turn of the twins. Megan was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff, but the hat took a long time to decided with Myrddin.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Morrigan kept watching as the students were divided. A Neville Longbottom went to Gryffindor, a Gwendoline to Hufflepuff. Soon they would be reaching the S's…

"Selwyn, Morrigan."

The hat completely obscured her vision of the hall.

"Interesting," said the hat in her ear. "Very interesting. A bit of a rebellious streak, I see. You have pureblood parents… well who doesn't nowadays. There hasn't been a muggleborn in Hogwarts for a decade. You don't want to be in Slytherin like your parents… let me see… RAVENCLAW!"

The hat was taken off her head, and she went to join her new house-mates.

Over at the Slytherin table, Myrddin was already missing his sister. He could see Megan sat comfortably amongst the Hufflepuffs, and realised that over the last eleven years he had grown used to her presence. She had always been his mouth-piece, talking for both of them so that he could sit in the shadows and watch. Now he was on his own, and he knew that as soon as the sorting had finished he would have to speak for himself. He felt like he had been thrust into the limelight after spending centuries in the shadows.

And the worst bit was, he had spent centuries in the shadows.

Life was a confusing concept for Myrddin. He had been born along with his twin sister of the 31st of June. They were premature, and had to spend some time in an incubator in St Mungos before their parents could take them home. He didn't remember any of that, thank the gods, but when he was six months old… he remembered. And then suddenly he had a whole other life in his head.

The last student was sorted, and the headmaster, Lucius Malfoy got to his feet. Myrddin could almost feel waves of smugness rolling off the blond boy next to him. He understood that he was the headmaster's son.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the man, dark mark prominent on his arm. "Let the feast begin."

Suddenly the plates were piled with food. It wasn't the grand feast his mother had described, or the perfectly cooked food from the house-elves from his memory. But it was warm and it was edible, so Myrddin began to eat with gusto.

"What was your name again?" asked the Malfoy boy. Myrddin gulped.

"Myrddin Jones," he whispered. Malfoy gave him an odd look, but turned away, apparently satisfied that he wasn't going to pose a threat to his own superiority within Slytherin house. If only he knew…

He was living a lie. Again. But this time there was no Gaius to turn to for comfort. No Kilgharrah to ask for advice. His new mother cared for him and he loved her dearly, but she was no Hunith. And as for his father… after watching Balinor die in his arms, he could barely look at the man who had raised him. Even after a thousand years, it still hurt.

A prefect was talking to them, telling them some rubbish about Slytherin superiority. He wondered vaguely what Salazar would say if he could see what his once-noble house had become. Slytherin house was once honoured throughout the magical world. Being sorted into Slytherin was akin to being accepted into the most prestigious institution in Britain. Since then dark wizards had tarnished its reputation, and it was now a hot-house for extremists, the power hungry, and pureblood fanatics.

Eventually, the food vanished from the plates, and Lucius Malfoy got to his feet to lecture them. Myrddin tuned him out, thinking again about his reincarnation. To say that it had been unexpected would be an understatement. Someone had thrown the balance of the Old Religion so off course, that he had been sat comfortably in his home one minute, and a toddler the next. There was some time in between (probably about fourteen months) when everything was a bit fuzzy but then…

Myrddin could only assume that even though his body was new, he was still immortal. There was no way a mortal child could cope with over twelve centuries of knowledge, or the power that came with it. He had had to be careful with his magic, trying not to reveal just how powerful he was. He had hated it. He fingered his wand in his pocket. He hated that too, the wooden stick obstructing his magic. He did not need such an instrument to perform spells.

Everyone stood up, and Myrddin realised the headmaster had finished talking. He got to his feet as well, obeying the instructions of the prefect to follow him to the common room. There was no need to tell them that he already knew every inch of the castle. He had helped build it, after all. The common room and dormitories hadn't changed much in the last thousand years, and that he was grateful for. At least some things stayed constant, despite the passage of time.

And with those thoughts, Myrddin Jones settled down to sleep, aware that around him, the castle was rejoicing in the return of its creator.

Merlin Ambrosius.