The village of Osmotherley was quiet, the moors a peaceful silence and the only the sound of gravel crunching underfoot could be heard. A young man walked along the road, absorbed by a newspaper, the headline reading BLACK STILL AT LARGE. Suddenly he turned down a side street and glanced up seeing an old man walking towards him.

"How are you doing there, Merlin? Going for an evening walk?" the old man questioned in a thick Yorkshire accent that was so common around the village.

"I'm doing well, thanks, Mr Brand. I hope you are too," Merlin responded.

"Ah, well, right enough I suppose. I hear it's set to be a rough winter."

"Be sure to tell me if you need anything," the young man asked. "But I must be off."

Merlin walked through the woods following the winding path until he came to a cave. The inside of the cave was dark, but everything could be seen clearly due to a glowing light that shone from the many crystals dotted around the cave. Merlin stood in the centre of it all, staring into some of the larger crystals, waiting to see what they would show him.

At first it was memories of his very early years, before he truly understood what it meant to have a destiny. They were memories of special times, times that he holds close to his heart. Arthur ordering him to stay behind as the knights ride out on a quest, Merlin sneaking out behind them. Days spent in the library with Geoffrey looking over his shoulder or staring at him across the room as Merlin attempted to find a way to fix whatever it was that had gone wrong.

Eventually the memories of a distant past faded with images of the present taking their place. A young boy, possibly thirteen, stand alone in the night, the road barely illuminated by the soft yellow light of the street lamps. He whips around, tumbling backwards, his hand flying out behind to catch him as he stares into the darkness. BANG. A deep purple bus comes hurtling down the street and draws to a halt in front of the boy. The doors swing open and a conductor jumps out.

"Welcome to the knight bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard."

Merlin let the scene fade, slowly coming back into himself. 'So that is where young Harry is,' he thought. 'He is in safe hands now.' Turning his attention back to the crystals he let another vision draw him in.

There is a graveyard standing at the bottom of a hill. Suddenly a flash of light cuts across the night illuminating the gravestones. Two young boys look around, confused and startled, dropping the cup that is glowing between them to the ground.

"Where are we?" the younger boy, Harry, asks.

The scene shifts and the older boy is laying on the ground. Eyes wide open. Unseeing. Dead. Harry is trapped against a tombstone, bound by thick ropes. Out of a bubbling cauldron steps a figure pale as death and red eyes like slits.

Merlin pulled away, gasping.

"Lord Voldemort will return."