Arthur viewed the curly script with a growing sense of disbelief. Hogwarts? What on earth was a Hogwarts? School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Chief half-wit? Clearly these people where insane. Who on earth would send a letter using an owl, haven't they heard of regular post before? Maybe it was a prank, a really weird prank. These people obviously had a strange sense of humor.

Uther made a noise similar to that of a wounded bear, unnaturally loud in the massive crowd. Guards slid out from the hedges, frightening the guests by their sudden appearance. Red and gold uniforms gleamed in the now dim party atmosphere. Droplets of rain had to begun to collect in teacups, gluing party invitations that escaped the hands of their owners to miscellaneous statues. Boots clacked sharply as they strode across the pathway. Their eyes may flutter from guest to guest, but their hands never strayed from their weapons. The guns were like nothing Arthur had ever seen before. They belonged in some science fiction novel. Thin and dark, the cartridges seemed to be loaded with a pulsating green substance instead of bullets. They looked unnaturally long and lean compared to regular guns. Arthur panicked slightly. Maybe the letter had been a code. Maybe it was a terrorist threat. Arthur glanced desperately up at Uther, waiting for him to tell him what to do.

Uther was a statue. The hatred that had defined his face had leached out, leaving him etched in stony silence. Arthur wasn't sure if he had ever seen Uther like this before. He preferred his father in a full blown-rage, this was just unnatural. Slowly, Uther paced his way up through the crowd. They shrank from him like he was some wild beast. Fidgeting nervously as he passed by, they refused to meet his eyes. It was as if they were frightened that he would lash out at them at any second. He glided in front of the small stage that Arthur was portrayed on, and turned to address the gathering.

"Inside. Now." Never had Arthur heard his father speak so quietly and with such venom. He had always been calm and approachable whenever talking with people, especially with the noble dignitaries that now stood stunned. For a second, the earth stood still for Arthur. Finally the crowd took heed and began to trudge back to the mansion. Tom ushered a frantic Gwen into the river of people. She looked desperately back at Arthur, her black ringlets now weighted down by the storm. Arthur forgot he was still supposed to be angry with her, and longed to comfort her. However, he himself had no clue what was going on. The mass movement of people trying to protect their elegant clothing from the angry weather soon swallowed her. Guards eyed them down, as if they where daring them to place one foot out of line. Some paced along through the crowd, easy to spot as the frightened guests gave them an extra wide birth.

Eventually the stragglers had been ushered into the mansion, and the doors where locked. Blinds were thrown down, curtains slammed, and all lights extinguished. It looked to Arthur as a ghost house, although it seemed more like a prison. To have hundreds of huddled beings together, unsure of why they were being detained was just wrong. Two guards stood in each doorway, and few others cleared the perimeter, crashing through the carefully tended gardens that Arthur loved so much.

Uther nodded to the nearest guards, and then turned to Arthur. Arthur couldn't help himself but to take a step back. It wasn't his father who was looking at him. Not at all. In one fluid motion, Uther mounted the stage and strode over to Arthur. Tearing the letter from his clenched hand, Uther crumbled it into a pulp, as if he was waiting for it to bleed emerald ink. He rummaged in his pocket before pulling out a matchbook. Slowly, he took out a single redheaded match and struck it to life. Holding the letter out in front of the flames, he watched as the fire devoured the paper, creeping over the glittering letters and turning into charcoal black nothingness. Flicking the spent match onto the lacy tablecloth, he didn't even make an expression when the fire began to nibble at his fingers. He made sure the letter had never existed.

Arthur just watched in amazement. He was stunned by his father's actions. Uther turned to him, wrapping an iron hand around his wrist.

"Come with me." He commanded, and strode off in the opposite direction. Arthur stumbled; he had to nearly run to catch up with his father's long stride. He couldn't help but to notice that they were heading away from his home, and deeper into the garden, towards his mother's tomb.

Arthur had never known his mother; she had died in childbirth to him. Often times he would sit and wonder what she had been like. Uther refused to talk about her at all, but if he was lucky he could get Tom to. Sometimes late at night after he had been playing with Gwen, they would both sit by the fire at their house. Tom would sit back and poor himself a drink, but not before offering hot chocolate to himself and Gwen. After a couple of minutes, Arthur would bring up his mother carefully. If he was more alert, Tom would clam up completely, but sometimes his eyes would glaze over and he would sigh.

"Wonderful women your mother. Never met two people more completely in love with each other then your dad and her. She had Uther completely at her mercy. Ha. Only one who could put him in his place when it was needed. Lovely long blond hair and a smile to put the angels to shame. She was definitely born to be the wife of some man in office. Now she was all perfect and polite when meting other nobles and traveling the world, but when it was just them two, she would kick 'those infernal' heels off and run through the gardens. She had the best selection of dirty jokes too; even Uther was a bit surprised by that."

Arthur would then try to conjure up what she had looked like. He could imagine her in his minds eye, tall for a woman, but strong looking, and she always looked like she was smiling, her wrinkles deep around her eyes. However, it just added to her beauty. He imagined that she probably had his blue eyes, not his father's green-gray eyes. After all, the trait had to come from somewhere. She probably smelled like the earth in summer, warm and full. She probably gave the best hugs ever.

Arthur would then tempt the discussion onto even more dangerous grounds.

"How did she die?" Tom's animated face would droop in sorrow.

"Your birth was hard on her, Arthur. Your father and her so desperately wanted a child, and they had tried so many different forms of treatment. Her body just wasn't designed to give birth."

Arthur wondered if his mother blamed him for her death. He wondered if she would of liked him, would of thought him a handsome and smart boy. He wondered if she had even a chance to hold him or name him before she died because of him. He wondered a lot of things.

The tomb was very well up kept, although Arthur barely visited it. He suspected his father came often, but he had never seen a single living soul in it. Uther stormed underneath the marble ceiling, dragging Arthur in out of the rain with him. Breathing hard from the fast pace and shivering with the cold, Arthur glanced at the stone effigy that graced His mother's tomb. She wasn't smiling. Whoever made it obviously didn't know her.

"Dad?" Arthur called out curiously, now that Uther had stopped. He had turned his back to Arthur, and was breathing heavily as well. "Fath-"

"Shut up" Uther snarled, twirling to face Arthur, his grip on his wrist growing tighter. Arthur winced in pain and fright, trying to not cry. He was so confused. Why was his father acting like this? Uther's face flickered as he realized what he had done. He dropped his hand like it had burned him, but refused to acknowledge Arthur. Slowly he began pacing over the marble, muttering to himself.

"No, no, no, this is wrong. All wrong. Impossible. They can't know. They can't find out."

"What happens if they find out?" Arthur asked quietly, unable to hold back the question.

"They cant, THEY CANT." Uther yelled at Arthur, his eyes wide in something that looked suspiciously like fear. "They will take you, they will use you as a symbol of my failure, they will rally behind it."

"What is it father?" Arthur asked, afraid. Uther stopped quite suddenly.

"I need to make a example." He said in a monotone voice.

"Of what?"

"Its not tolerated. It never will be. There are no acceptations."

And with that, Uther marched back out into the howling storm, still tugging Arthur along. It was now dark, and it was impossible to tell what time of day it was. Tom appeared from the desecrated party site.

"The house is secure and waiting for your orders, sire." Uther nodded.

"Take him, and place him downstairs." He declared, unable to even look at his son. Arthur's terrified gaze sought out Tom's panicked eyes, looking for some kind of help. Tom just turned away, as if he could feel Arthur's fear.

"This way Arthur, please." He nearly whispered.

They returned to the house, but not by the main entrance. Towards the east facing side, a slanted door led to the basement. Arthur had been forbidden from going down there. Which meant naturally that Arthur had already discovered several secret ways to get down there. It was nothing much, just like a somewhat dark study with no windows. The plus red carpet covered the floor, and a few comfy chairs were scattered next to tall lamps and even taller bookcases. Completely dull for a young child at the time. Tom ushered him in and shut the door behind him. Arthur listened to the soft clink as it locked, breathing heavily.

"I know you probably don't know where you are, or what's going on, but it is all going to be okay. I promise you Arthur." Tom said, kneeling next to Arthur. "I will protect you. Trust me." Arthur nodded, still wary. Tom then shot up and started to pace the thick carpet, muttering to himself.

"Its too damn soon, I told them to hurry up, that it would happen soon. I told them to be prepared, but was they? No. They hid themselves in the bloody crowd, like fools. They didn't believe me; they didn't think you had it in you. And now they are locked in a house of a murderer. They will be routed out, they will be hunted down, and they will be killed. Idiots!" He exploded angrily. Arthur watched from the sidelines anxiously.

Finally, tom stop pacing and stood in front of Arthur, looking down at him with something like pity.

"I have to go now Arthur… I need to plan; we will keep you safe, I promise. I will return. Do you trust me?"

Arthur nodded. Tom smiled, and it seemed the first in a long time.

"Good. I will be back soon."

And so Arthur waited in his plush prison.