A/N: Yes. I know. I'm a terrible person for disappearing for so long. However, my university education had to come before fanfiction (I'd switch that up if I didn't need to keep my damn GPA up). :P I do honestly apologize for the disappearance, but you know how life can get. ^.^;;;;

Oh, and btw, happy Victoria Day everyone. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Merlin, nor do I make any money from this. Sadly.

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Hermione felt slightly better now she'd shared her theory with Merlin, even if she couldn't explain the whole story. It certainly couldn't hurt to have the most powerful wizard who ever lived on her side. At least that's what she told herself was the reason for her telling him so much. Now she had another (rather large) piece of the puzzle on how to get to and from her own time the wheels in her head had begun to turn on how to solve her predicament.

She had to find a way to get both herself and however many Death Eaters had found their way to the past back to the future, where they belonged. Time is something anyone with a shred of sensibility, muggle or magical, should know it is not something to tamper with (her Third Year time travelling adventure with Harry aside). As much as she'd come to love Camelot and its quirky inhabitants, she didn't belong.

She smiled and chatted with Gaius as he explained the properties of the Sleeping Draught he was prescribing for her, being sure to listen to what the physician was saying. She then claimed fatigue and borrowed a few books whose titles seemed promising.

The day was perfect – blue skies, fluffy clouds, and warm enough to be hot but not overly so. She decided to do some reading on a mini clearing she had seen in the palace gardens . it was surrounded by bushes and a tree provided a comfortable shade. Hermione set the books down and sorted them in order of which might be most helpful. She was a quarter-way through An Extensive Studie of the Functions and Properties of Time when a shadow blocked her light. Looking up with a frown she inwardly frowned even deeper when she saw who cast it.

"Lady Hermione! What a nice surprise," Prince Markl of Mercia said a low gravelly tone he probably though was dark and sexy. (It wasn't.)

"Prince Markl. How... lovely to see you."

"I was just out for a stroll, perhaps you'd like to join me?" he asked, holding out his arm to her.

"Erm... Well, I was a bit busy reading-"

"Oh, I can carry your books for you, it's no trouble. However did you even get them here anyhow?" Markl asked as he picked up the books, changing the meticulosly planned order.

"What d'you mean how I got them here?"

"Well, these are far too heavy for a lady to carry. Did you get a servant to carry them out for you?"

Hermione ground her teeth.

"No. I used the muscles in my arms to lift them up, and my legs to take me and the books here."

Her snarky comment was lost to him as he read the titles of some of the books.

"Modern Magycks of the 10th Century? Why-ever are you bothering with reading that?" Markl asked, a confused frown on his face.

Hermione's heart stopped for a second of panic.

"It's better to know your enemy than to go in unprepared," she replied as she grabbed the book from his hands, glad of her extensive training in making up excuses on the spot to cover for her friends.

"Ah. I suppose so..." Markl was quiet for a few seconds, seeming to consider whether or not to say whatever was on his mind. Eventually he turned to her with a serious expression.

"Lady Hermione, I am truly sorry for what has happened to you and your family. I too have lost a loved one to the plague that are magic wielders," Hermione's surprised expression seemed to give him the necessary courage to continue.

"My sister was courted by a man a few years ago while she visited some of our kinfolk. We thought him to be an honest man whom had captured her heart through honest means and accepted the match. During a feast to celebrate the union they both disappeared for hours. We will never know what happened, but when we found my sister she lay dead on the ground, her breast torn open even though no knife had been used. The warlock had removed her heart through magical means, for what can only have been some devil-worshipping rite... My father, consumed with grief, slay him where he stood. So you see, I am no stranger to the damage magic does to good people. I swear to you Lady Granger, that I will do everything in my power to help you repel this evil from your life," Markl concluded earnestly.

What was one supposed to say to something like that?

"Thank you," Hermione eventually managed, "that can't have been easy to share. I'm sorry about what you had to go through."

By then they had reached Hermione's room. Markl bade her good day and went off to some war council meeting. Hermione entered her room and put her books away, under the distinct impression that she had heard of something similar somewhere before. She shrugged off the feeling, aware that whatever it was would nag her withing an inch of her sanity if she thought on it. And she had bigger proverbial fish to fry.

Through her readings she had come across a mention of a spell that had become forgotten and obsolete in her time – Reverto Domus. In theory it was a way for witches and wizards to save the hassle of travel and send themselves home, as magic folk still had not discovered Apparition or even Floo powder. The question was, of course, wether this could work in a temporal level as well as merely through space. The book had insofar had no other mention of the homing charm. Hermione hoped Merlin knew of someone – anyone – who could at least teach her the proper wand movements.

Around this time of day she knew Arthur would be either practising his swordsmanship or i n some sort of meeting with his father. Merlin would either be standing around looking bored or in the prince's room doing the daily room cleaning. She decided it couldn't hurt to go by Arthur's room. if Merlin wasn't there she could find him later, and if he was she could get a move on on her plans. When she arrived at her destination she knocked on the door and was greeted by a muffled "come in!". She did as the disgruntled voice on the other side of the door requested, finding a frazzled-looking Merlin surrounded by a pile of armour in different states of disrepair. She closed the door behind her and went to stand by the room's sole occupant.

"What are you doing?" she laughed. Arthur was known to be rather partial to give his friend/employee ridiculous or tedious tasks just to drive the young warlock up the wall. She couldn't wait to see what the mischievous young monarch had come up with this time.

"I'm polishing Arthur's armour, sword, and shield for his practice this afternoon. After which I'll need to polish the whole damn thing again," Merlin grumbled as he put the polishing cloth down for a break.

"Well, if I speed that up for you d'you think you might be able to help me with something?" Hermione chuckled.

"I'd say yes if I could, but I don't think Uther would like the idea of you doing a servant's -" Merlin began to say, biut stopped halfway through his sentence when shee slipped out her wand, pointed it at the pile of shabby metal and muttered "Tergeo." The dirt and... other stuff... vanished, leaving the armour shiny and clean.

Hermione would never get tired of Merlin's wide-eyed look whenever she did a spell. It was funny enough when one considered he was also a magic-wielder, and therefore shouldn't be so surprised. It was absolutely hilarious when you knew he was destined to become the greatest wizard in wizarding and muggle history.

She smirked at him.

"You were saying...?"

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A/N: There! Three pages! And I'm getting started on the next chapter right now!

A/N 2: Markl's story is based on one of the short stories in "The Tales Of Beedle the Bard". Specifically, 'The Warlock's Hairy Heart'. It does not follow it word for word because as with most myths and tales, it was changed by storytellers over time until Beedle wrote it down, whenever that was. And as most legends are based on some amount of fact... ;)