"Are you alright?" Severus asked quietly as they walked through the gate into Tintagel Castle.

"I'm okay. She didn't do anything," Harry replied. His mouth curved into a small smile when Severus squeezed him lightly.

Walking through the castle gate had them inside one of the large towers, a staircase built into the wall and winding around to upper levels. They walked through the archway opposite the gated bridge entrance and entered a large, mostly open area. The rampart walls continued along the coast, but separating the entrance area from the rest was one of the tall towers visible from outside the castle and a huge, long building not unlike the village's great hall, all made of the same white-grey stone aside from the hall's dark wood roof. A wide path sat to the right of the buildings, connecting to another unseen area of the castle.

"Through there is the training area for apprentices and Knights," Arthur told them, pointing to the pathway.

"Knights train here with Merlin?" Harry wondered and Arthur nodded.

"It's the safest place in all of Camelot, and Merlin is both a master of magic and a battle strategist. No better place to train and no one better to learn from."

Harry couldn't help but think of the praise heaped upon Hogwarts and Dumbledore, similar to Arthur's of Merlin and Tintagel Castle, but still different. The praise for Hogwarts and Dumbledore, to him, was unfounded. He loved Hogwarts, truly, but he had been no safer within its walls than if he'd been anywhere else and Dumbledore had done little to prevent such threats, had even facilitated some of them. The faith and loyalty people had to Dumbledore was blind, and he used that against so many to manipulate them. 

He glanced at Severus with the thought.

He was sure Dumbledore cared about them all, but not in the way they needed.

Hearing Arthur speak of Merlin and Tintagel Castle, it was so similar, but there was an air of true affection in the words that he didn't hear when people spoke of Dumbledore. They cared for their mentor instead of being blindly loyal. They saw the greatness in Merlin, but also saw him as a person; Dumbledore was seen as nothing but great, keeping him out of reach of the human he truly was. Merlin was fallible; Dumbledore wasn't.

He pushed his musing aside as they approached a large fountain tucked in a large, rounded alcove-like section of the exterior wall. The base of the fountain was made of white marble and filled with water, streams shooting up to the sky around the back half. In the center was a statue of rose quartz, carved into a beautiful woman. She was tall and thin with delicate features, her eyes lidded and lips parted. Her wavy hair fell around her shoulders and down her back like a curtain, a couple strands dancing across her face. She was turned to the side, her head turned towards them with one hand cradling her cheek lightly and her other outstretched to them as though waiting for it to be taken. Her dress was flowy, wrapping around her as though dancing in a breeze. It was a halter-neck with thin strands that hung down her back and looped under her arms to attach to the sides of the dress. Intricate, tiny details had been carved into the dress.

Harry stared at her, watching curiously as Merlin approached her and raised his hand to press his palm to her outstretched one. It was a tender touch and he looked into her gentle face again.

"Who is she?" Harry wondered quietly.

"His great love," Salazar replied softly. "Calypso."

Harry looked at him sharply, stunned.

"A story for another time, darling," Rowena interrupted as the water spraying around Calypso stopped and disappeared from the fountain's base. Behind her, the fountain floor sank, turning into a staircase descending underground.

Harry blinked in surprise. "What's down there?"

"My sanctuary and connection to our Ladies of Magic," Merlin replied and Harry looked at him questioningly. "Much power is required to work with Soul Magic with as little risk as possible and, given our Ladies infused the natural world with their gift of magic to us, there is no better place to find that pure power than within the earth."

He smiled and proceeded to descend down the staircase, followed one by one by the others. Harry ended up in the very middle, between Arthur and Salazar, Severus next to him. For a few minutes, it remained a tightly spiraled, enclosed staircase, lit only by ribbons of some glowing material in the stone walls.

Then, it changed. The spiral of their stairs widened and the area around them opened. Harry gaped at the extraordinary cavern they were descending into. It was as though a whole other world existed beneath Tintagel Castle.

Their stairs were free-standing now, continuing down and around towards a huge rocky formation. It created a circle that didn't quite close, one side left open for the massive waterfall pouring down the side from the water pool that filled the top of the structure, stone pillars and archways around its perimeter. Their staircase wrapped around the huge rocky column, taking them under the waterfall which seemed to be charmed not to flow over them, hitting an invisible battier. Around and below the column were more stone builds; bridges, paths, statues, natural boulders and rock formations. A large wooden dock with small boats sat in the water that filled the bottom of the cavern, flowing in from the huge opening that obviously went out to the sea. Trees and lush, deep greenery covered the walls and ceiling and builds, providing a gentle freshness. Stone bowls and candles held by statues were lit with fire, providing flickering light to the area. As they descended further and further, a damp breeze blew around and Harry could feel the magic that filled the area, felt it brush across him and flow around him.

Eventually, their staircase reached the bottom and they followed Merlin along paths and down more stairs to leave the column's rocky base and head for a bridge that took them across the water. Along the bridge and branching paths on the other side of the bridge were statues of two different women, both with gentle smiles, downcast eyes, and flowing robes with a raised hood. One of them held candles while the other held orbs of moonstone.

Across the bridge, they climbed one more short set of stairs directly in front of the bridge. Atop the stairs sat an open, circular area that resembled the village's sanctuary, complete with a large silver willow tree, a stone crescent seat, other simple round stone seats, a grassy ground despite the stone, and more of the women statues. Merlin gestured for them all to sit as he stood in the semi-circle space in the crescent moon bench.

"So, you have a forced horcrux which has developed into a Soul Bond and an accompanying Blood Bond?" Merlin asked, looking at Harry who nodded. "It is a complicated situation. There is a risk to your soul and magical core. As well, we have no way of knowing what the horcrux has blocked all these years, if anything."

"What do you mean?" Severus asked.

"If there are any other bonds, connections, or powers Harry was meant to have, the horcrux could have been blocking them," Merlin explained. "There is a risk of overload, mental and magical, depending on what is released."

"How big of a risk is it to remove it?" Severus asked.

"It is a very risky thing," Merlin admitted and Harry's stomach clenched anxiously, "but it is a bigger risk to leave it, I think. When you return to your time, the horcrux could be used to kill Harry or worse."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Worse?"

Merlin gave him a tight look. "Your soul could be consumed, leaving you nothing more than a vessel for the horcrux and at its control."

Harry's sight grew distant, soaring past Merlin as fear filled him. His heart sped up and his stomach twisted painfully, nausea rising up. He could feel himself nearly vibrating with a need to take off, to escape from yet another horrific reality facing him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers in his hair as he tried to control his breathing and nausea.

"It is, of course, your choice," Merlin added.

Harry heard a very quiet, "Excuse us," and a hand pushed gently on his back, encouraging him to his feet and guiding him a few meters to the side away from the others. Hands cradled his face and tilted his head to look at Severus who was bent slightly to be at his eye level.

"Breathe," Severus instructed gently. "Feel me, look at me, and breathe."

Harry raised his hands to grasp the man's wrists, releasing a stuttering breath. He tried to focus on Severus' touch, on the cavern air around him, and tried to let the safety he felt with Severus and the people of Camelot chase away his fear and despair. He tried to channel the calm he'd felt since coming to Camelot, an odd calm considering all the unknowns and threat of Morgan, but a calm he'd never felt before. His eyes drifted shut briefly as he finally slowed his breathing, opening them again moments later.

"Have you always been prone to panic attacks or are these new?" Severus asked, making to move his hands, but Harry unconsciously tightened his grip, embarrassingly needing the contact.

"I, uh, I've had them since I was...eight? I think," Harry said, focusing on Severus' caring touch to clear his mind which had muddled during the attack. "They've been worse and more common since first year. No one knows about them though. I just...I hide them, keep them to myself."

"Deal with them yourself."

Harry nodded.

"Why?"

"I'm the Boy Who Lived," Harry recited easily. "What kind of hero has panic attacks?"

Severus sighed and Harry saw the regret in the dark eyes, knowing the man was likely thinking of all his comments from the last four years. While Severus looked on the verge of apologizing, Harry couldn't help but smile, garnering a questioning look. He finally released the man's arms only to move forward and wrap himself around Severus' torso, head resting against the broad chest. The arms immediately wrapped around him in response, but Harry could still feel the curious confusion.

"Thank you for never treating me like a hero," he muttered.

"You're welcome, though, I do apologize for my methods," Severus replied, sounding bemused.

"I know, it's okay," Harry said, turning his head so he was looking at the others who were quietly talking as they waited. "What do I do?"

"It is your decision," Severus told him.

"I'd rather you told me what to do."

"Liar. You hate being told what to do, particularly by me."

Harry chuckled lightly, smiling at the hand rubbing his back.

"Guess I'd rather risk tearing my soul than losing it."

"I, too, would prefer to have you rather than another's soul controlling you," Severus agreed. "We will deal with anything that happens."

Harry nodded, holding on long enough for a hand to brush down the back of his head before letting go and heading back to the others.

"I want it removed," Harry told Merlin.

Merlin inclined his head. "I will do what I can to minimize the risks. It is why Salazar and Rowena are here. Rowena is our Mind Magic master and will protect your mind, placing you in your unconscious as the horcrux is removed. Salazar will disentangle your magic from it while I disentangle your soul and remove the horcrux."

"The risks?" Severus asked.

"His soul could tear. His core could crack. He could become trapped in his mind if other bonds overwhelm him. The horcrux could consume him if his magic, soul, and blood get confused and reactivate the horcrux," Merlin explained.

Harry fought down the nerves that threatened to overtake him again, turning to Severus when the man's hand settled on his back again.

"You are certain?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Come up here, my child," Merlin said and Harry walked up to him. He was instructed to lay across the crescent bench while Merlin, Salazar, and Rowena knelt around him. "You will see something during this. You're not quite unconscious and will go to the place in your subconscious where your mind, magic, and soul intertwine."

"What will I see?"

"There is no way to know," Merlin admitted. "You will see what you need to see."

Harry rolled his head to glance at Severus who was sitting with Godric and watching him steadily. He took a deep breath and returned to gazing up at the rocky, grassy ceiling past Merlin's face.

"Are you ready?" Merlin asked.

Harry nodded stiffly, curling his hands into fists repeatedly until Rowena took his hand with a gentle smile.

"Just relax, darling," she reassured.

Her other hand came up, fingertips resting against his temple. Merlin laid a hand over his heart and Salazar hovered his hands over his sternum. All three gave him encouraging smiles.

"Just let the magic carry you," Merlin told him quietly and, before Harry could respond, his eyes closed and he was pulled away.

When everything came back into focus and awareness, he was in a never-ending white space with ropes of wispy magic that seemed to come from nowhere to meet in the same place. There were ropes of gold, green, silver, blue, and purple and, where they all came together, was at a dense black ball of sharp magic with thin rivers of red running through. Its threads weren't light and dancing the way the others were; these were tightly wound, sharp like static and pulling at the other ropes. The gold, blue, green, and purple threads were connected to the black ball, but had tangled with it, the colours mixing with the black as strands left the ball to crawl up the coloured ropes, holding tight. The silver thread, however, was different. It was still connected to the black and red ball, but it disappeared within it, becoming completely consumed by the darkness.

Harry frowned as he stared at the cumulation of his mind, magic, and soul. The red rivers in the black ball pulsed every few seconds and, each time it happened, the black strands wrapped around his coloured ones seemed to try and pull back as though releasing him reluctantly. The black ball was fighting to hold on, though, only inching away and wrapping back around him any chance it could and appearing to grow even darker and heavier each time. The horcrux-Voldemort's soul-was not going to let him go easily, desperate to survive and thrive.

When a grey mist suddenly floated around, filling the area and bringing a dimness to the white space, he looked around sharply, trying to find what was happening.

 "Harry Potter."

The deep, smooth voice came from nowhere and, for a time, he couldn't see its source. After spinning in fearful circles for a few seconds, a figure finally came into view within the thickening mist, darkness swirling around it.

There was no face or real body shape. It was a cloak, a black, tattered cloak with an oversized hood and edges that looked like the mist surrounding them. The only distinguishing features visible outside the cloak were the white, skeletal hands of literal bone and the chain that hung down the front with a simple pendant made of a circle, triangle, and vertical line. The air seemed to chill and the very atmosphere around the figure seemed to darken, mist flowing from its robe perpetually and swirling around its feet. Despite having no face-visible, at least-Harry could tell it was looking at him.

"Or should I say ‘Master'?"

Harry cringed. "Bloody hell, absolutely not."

"I have been waiting a long time for you."

Harry arched an eyebrow, suddenly feeling any nervousness disappear, leaving him comfortable as though they were old friends and this was completely natural.

"Sorry," he quipped. "Was I supposed to die?"

The grey mist around them changed, wisps of yellow dancing along.

"Technically, yes, several times," Death replied lightly and Harry rolled his eyes at the very obvious amusement.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "So, why aren't I then? Dead?"

"You've had many guardians protecting you."

"Couldn't you have just taken me anyway? You are Death," Harry pointed out.

"There are some things more powerful than even me."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, confused what Death was implying.

"Alright, so, you're what I'm supposed to see?" Harry said, bringing Death's faceless attention back to him. "Why?"

"You are a Master of Death," Death said as though it were obvious. "We have always been connected and should have been able to grow our bond all this time."

"I was meant to have Death as an imaginary friend?" Harry questioned, deadpanned. "No offence, but, given my life, I'm not exactly broken up over missing out on that bond. Feel like seeing Death and having a conversation with you at five years old would have been terrifying."

"We would not have interacted until you were eleven," Death pointed out and Harry huffed.

"That would not have made it better."

More yellow twirled through the grey mist before disappearing, leaving behind only grey.

"You have to find them, the Hallows," Death said, returning to seriousness. "Here and in your time."

"How? I don't know who or what I'm looking for," Harry replied.

"You do and you will," Death told him and suddenly raised one bony hand. 

Harry watched as strands from the black and red ball travelled across the air and to Death's hand, Harry's coloured threads forcibly following. He watched curiously as the strands began to form a ball, a tiny coloured strand breaking away every few seconds and taking off away from the black balls holding them hostage. Every coloured strand that escaped tangled together with their like colour and with the others, beginning to create a brand new ball beside the black one, this one light and glittery and colourful.

"With this removed, your bonds will be restored and your magic regained."

"Magic regained?" Harry repeated, looking back at Death who continued to manipulate the horcrux and Harry.

"You do not know the power you are meant to have," Death told him. "With this removed, you will become all you are meant to be. With the Hallows, you will come to feel them and hear them and see them."

"How?"

"Masters are connected to their Hallow as well as other Masters. This is how you will find them," Death explained. "You have to see and you have to listen."

Harry frowned at the being. "You know I hate riddles, right?"

Yellow danced through the mist again as more coloured threads gained their freedom from Voldemort.

"You know what you are looking for," Death said.

"I'm not sure I do. I don't know anything about the Deathly Hallows or the Masters that could exist here," Harry argued.

"You do not know them, no, but you are connected in many ways. You will know them," Death told him. "As for your Hallow, you already possess it."

"Excuse me?"

"In your time."

Harry thought through the items he'd been told about, blinking at Death in realization. "My cloak?"

Death's hooded head seemed to tilt to the side as he looked at Harry. "You didn't think yours was any mere Cloak of Invisibility, did you?"

Harry gave Death a withering stare. "I hadn't realized there were enough of them to have the distinction of being ‘mere' or a gift from Death," he drawled.

Yellow washed through the grey again and Harry finally realized it was a representation of Death's amusement.

"How did my father have it then if he wasn't a Master?" Harry asked.

"It passed where it needed to go to get to you," Death said vaguely and Harry had to hold back a huff of frustration at more riddles. He glanced at the horcrux, seeing it had shrunk exponentially and the new colourful ball was taking its places, a mix of blue, gold, green, silver, and purple glittery happily together. "Trust in yourself, Master."

"Don't call me that," Harry sniped lightly and sighed, turning back to Death. "What if Morgan finds them first?"

"I'm Death, not Fate," Death answered. "When you find them, you will know what to do."

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to know what to do."

"The Masters here are to be the last," Death said. "One Master in your time is not to last. You will know what needs to be done."

Harry frowned. "Why can't you just tell me who has the Hallows, in this time and mine?"

"To find the Masters is to find yourself," Death said and Harry was surprised he didn't shrug with how casually he responded.

"Really?" Harry replied, unimpressed. "A journey of self-discovery?"

Yellow fluttered around them and Harry scowled slightly.

"You will find what you need here. You will learn who you are meant to be." Death cupped his hands around the black and red ball he now held, completely devoid of the other colours that now created their own dancing ball. As Harry watched, the red ribbons dimmed and disappeared into the black before the ball seemed to melt through Death's bones, joining the mist swirling around. "You will be free."

Harry looked at him, confused. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What would you like it to mean?"

Harry glowered at the being, hardly noticing that the mist filling the space was beginning to drift away.

"Call on me, should you need," Death told him. "We are connected now as we were always meant to be."

"How exactly do I do that?" Harry demanded.

Death said nothing and Harry scowled at him again, finally noticing the retreating mist.

"Until we meet again, Master," Death said and the mist wrapped around him, it and him disappearing.

"I told you not to call me that!" Harry shouted into the white nothing.

Shaking his head and huffing, he turned back to his new core. The colours were twisted and braided together, dancing, but it was the silver that was the most intriguing. They were moving excitedly as though coming to life for the first time. As he watched, the silver strands pulsed, receiving responding pulses from the other threads. His hand flew to his chest as he felt a strange thrum. With every pulse of his core, his chest beat like a low drum, and he winced as it became stronger and stronger. Eventually, there was a final thrum and he was pulled away, his body flooding with lost power and an incomprehensible whisper echoing through his mind.