Ancient Help (A Harry Potter and Merlin Crossover)

Chapter Fifty-Three: The Last Battle

King Arthur took a deep breath as they finally stood at a secluded part of the Darkling Woods, Camelot now seen from their positions.

This was it; they had finally arrived. Rage awakened inside his heart upon seeing the destruction that was brought upon Camelot by Morgana and Mordred's attack. Even from a distance, he could hear the loud moans and cries of his people. Even from a distance, he could already see how his people were being poorly treated and abused.

"Arthur?" Guinevere asked, looping her arm around his.

He looked down at his wife and saw the deep worry on her face. His anger slightly dissipated and, yet again, he expelled a soft sigh. He then turned his head once again at the distant Camelot, newfound determination now replacing his rage.

They had prepared thoroughly, and although he knew that Morgana and Mordred combined, aided by a powerful army, there was no time to doubt if he desired to claim what was rightfully his. His people had perished for far too long and he could not afford to wallow in self-pity and insecurity if he wanted to save his kingdom.

His eyes then settled on a strangely quiet and pale Hermione. The witch seemed tense and afraid, but she was determined, too. He could not believe he was willingly working with a witch... and wizard, too! But they were his friends, and at a trying time like this, they were the best aids that he could have. If Hermione and Merlin were willing to help him save Camelot, then he would be forever in their debt if they finally did.

"Are you ready?" he then asked the brunette, who turned her fearful eyes at him. He somehow could relate with the myriad of emotions she was feeling. For one to be burdened with a vast responsibility with a consequence of bloodshed if ever there was failure was not exactly a wonderful idea. The moment he understood what a Crown Prince was and what his future would be, he knew that he could not afford to make mistakes along the way.

The brunette then took a deep breath and hardened her features. "I am now," she replied back, her gaze slowly returning to the ruined Camelot.

Arthur then nodded his head and tightly held Gwen's hand. With a simple motion of his free hand, they started running quickly towards Camelot.

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Kilgharrah landed on a more secluded part just to be safe. A few feet from them was the lake and right at the heart of it was the Isle of the Blessed. Merlin could already see quite a lot of Army of the Undead, guarding the whole place. The air, too... it was thick with magic and the manservant could feel goosebumps erupting on his skin. The atmosphere screamed of danger and wryly, he couldn't help a small smile from growing.

"I guess you are right after all," he then said, climbing down from the dragon's rough back. "Thank you, Kilgharrah. Once again, you have helped me."

The Great Dragon reverently bowed his head. "One must be cautious around the Undead, Merlin. Always remember that," he said. "I bid you good luck."

After saying his parting words, Kilgharrah opened his wings and took flight. Merlin stayed hidden in the shadows, in case a strayed skeleton was able to come upon him.

It boggled him as to why no one had even approached him or checked upon him. Merlin thought that the pentacle they were guarding was too precious to leave unattended. With this thought in mind, he knew he was in the right place.

Merlin then closed his eyes and softly muttered a spell. "Ungesewen [1]." He felt his magic ripple all throughout his body and when his opened his eyes, he glanced down and was satisfied to see that he was concealed from sight.

He then slowly emerged from the darkness and approached the lone boat on the lakeside. With his eyes intently focused on the Isle of the Blessed, he lowered himself on the boat. "Gesegle [2]," he whispered, and the boat started to move.