Harry gasped as he opened his eyes and found the pulsing had not ceased. Glittering lights were dancing before his eyes, brightening and dimming with every throb of power in his chest. His heart was pounding and he could feel himself trembling, his breathing hitching sporadically.

"It's alright, lad," the deep voice of Merlin said and Harry's eyes darted around, trying to see through the cloud of sparkling, bouncing threads. "Your magic is trying to reorient itself. Do not fight it or your core could overload or reject your magic in your panic."

Harry tried to listen, understanding the danger, at least to an extent. He tried to calm himself, tried to slow his breathing, but his newly released magic was too much. It was so much larger than him, surrounding and encompassing. It was like his cupboard and he was small, alone, unworthy, and unwanted. All he had in that cupboard was all he deserved, all he could handle. He wasn't strong enough for the world beyond the cupboard. He wasn't strong enough for the roles and expectations bestowed upon him. He wasn't strong enough for this power.

He was just a lonely little boy left in a cupboard.

He wasn't enough.

Suddenly, amongst the heavy pulsing, there was a sharp pain in his chest that made him release a shuddering breath. The pain continued, pulling a whimper and tears from him as a harsh cold began to settle deep within him. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sensations and all-consuming fear.

"He's panicking," he just barely heard Arthur say and he wished he could laugh at the understatement. "His core is rejecting the magic."

"Why would he reject his magic?" he heard Severus ask.

"His core is reacting to his panic and his panic is likely being caused by not wanting the magic or something similar," Godric replied. "It is very similar to Infusion Magic. Our cores can only absorb magic if we allow it and accept it. He's not accepting his magic for some reason."

"And if he doesn't accept his magic?" Severus asked, sounding worried.

"His core will empty and he will die," Merlin responded severely.

"We need to convince him to accept his magic," Salazar said. "Could there be a reason he is panicking about this?"

There was no response and Harry let out another shaky breath as he was wracked with pain and cold. He was startled when a hand gathering up his broke through the despair and charged magic. He forced his eyes open and found Severus through his magic.

"Talk to me, child."

"I...I can't do it...I'm not...not good enough or...or strong enough," Harry stuttered.

"For what?"

"Any...any of it."

"Well, this magic is yours and was inside you all along so you must be good enough and strong enough for it," Severus told him gently.

"I'm...I'm not a hero," Harry said as though releasing some great admission.

"No one is asking you to be," Severus replied.

"You will be free."

"You are enough as you are and that is all we need," Severus continued and Harry stared at the man as the conviction bled into the man's words. "I will never ask for more than who you are. You are enough."

"You will find what you need ... learn who you are meant to be ... you will be free."

Death's and Severus' words penetrated his suspended haze of lonely deprecation. Some part of him wrapped itself up in the words, desperate to believe. As he did, the pain in his chest slowly eased and the magic around him began to calm, twisting together gently. He was able to take slow, deep breaths and his body stopped trembling. Where there had been pain, there was now a warmth.

"That's it," Severus murmured. "Just relax."

Harry continued his slow breaths and his magic, all tangled together, steadily sank into his chest, the warmth growing in response. It almost felt overwhelming, threatening to make him panic again, but it was also familiar as though he knew this power, allowing him to absorb it into his core. He could feel the change, the difference in power level and the way the magic flowed through his body. Soon, his magic disappeared into him completely and, despite the new power, Harry felt it settle and settled himself, his new magic a part of him.

Finally feeling better, Harry shuffled and started pushing himself up on the stone bench he was still lying on. Severus helped, carefully pulling him up until he was sitting.

"It worked," Harry said, somewhat unnecessarily.

Severus nodded with a small smile and reached out, brushing Harry's hair away from the scar. "Nothing but you."

Harry smiled back, eyes dropping to the hand still holding his, and found the odd new mark on the inside of his right wrist. He looked at it curiously. It was thin and white, looking like a scar, and was a triangle with a circle and vertical line inside. When Severus released his hand and turned his own over to reveal a matching mark, Harry lifted his gaze to the man in question.

"The symbol of the Deathly Hallows," Severus told him. "Our Hallow and Death connections have activated."

Harry frowned. "Yours was blocked too? You saw Death?"

Severus nodded. "My Dark Mark was blocking the bond."

Harry's eyes flicked to the man's left forearm, seeing just a tiny part of the Dark Mark peeking out from beneath the man's three-quarter tunic sleeve.

"The magical connection is gone, but the Mark remains," Severus answered Harry's silent question. "It is a brand and cannot be removed."

Harry frowned again, upset on the man's behalf that he was stuck with the Mark forever. It didn't seem fair, to be reminded of his greatest mistake and regret after everything he had done to try and put things right.

"The mark itself means little," Severus said as though he knew what Harry was thinking. "I am still free is so many ways."

"You will be free."

"Death said I would be free too," Harry said and Severus smiled.

"It would seem he was correct."

"Harry?" He looked up at Merlin. "How are you feeling, lad?"

"Strange," Harry admitted. "My magic feels different and there's...something. A buzz, but it's very subtle."

"It is likely your Hallow connection," Salazar told him. "It will likely reach for you now the connection has been restored."

"Are the rumours true then?" Arthur jumped in, seeming to be excited. "As Masters, you can speak with Death himself?"

"It would appear so," Severus confirmed.

"Apparently we should've had the bond all along," Harry explained. "He told me it should've started when I was eleven."

"Fascinating," Salazar murmured.

"Did he tell you anything about the Hallows or the Masters of our time?" Guinevere asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really. He said, even in our time, I don't know my Master, but I'm connected to them in many ways."

"Perhaps Isabella can help," Rowena said thoughtfully.

"I thought she couldn't see the Masters?" Harry asked, remembering what they had been told when they'd arrived and learned of all that was going on.

"She cannot, no one can," Merlin replied. "They have cloaked themselves from all Sight. What she can see, however, is shadows of connection. It is possible she could see the Masters' shadows as they connect to the two of you."

"Almost like bloodlines, only magical bonds and connections or other strong bonds that will greatly impact your life," Godric explained.

"She describes it as the auras that surround a person, their soul," Rowena added.

"There is no guarantee this will help find the Masters, but it is a start we did not previously have," Merlin said. "It will surely not be long before Morgan follows the same path now she knows of Harry and Severus specifically. She can focus her Sight as Isabella can."

"Morgan's a Seer too?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not exactly," Arthur told him. "She has a fracture in the world through which Seers see. She fractured the barriers using her mixture of Mind Magic and Necromancy. It allows her to search that plane of existence and time, but in fractured pieces because it is not true Sight. It's far more difficult for her to see than Isabella and she really only sees death as a result of Necromancy being used to create the fracture."

"It's simply a violent manipulation and disfiguring of magic," Merlin said, sounding disappointed and disgusted. "Please, return to Camelot and enjoy your return to Hogwarts. I am sure we will see each other again soon."

Harry looked at the man curiously, wondering how he knew they would be attending Hogwarts.

"Arthur and Salazar, if you would remain," Merlin requested and the two inclined their heads in agreement.

They left Merlin's Cave, then, and Tintagel Castle, taking the portal back to where they had left the wagon. They were fairly quiet as they made their way back to Camelot Village, Guinevere and Rowena up front and Harry, Severus, and Godric in the wagon. As they travelled, the green hills rolling by, Harry found his mind wandering.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked quietly. "You are very quiet."

Harry nodded. "Just thinking." He paused as he continued to muse. "If Morgan wants the Hallows and knew who we were, why didn't she do anything at Tintagel Castle?"

"It is likely she hopes you will bring the Hallows and Masters out of concealment, and then she will take them," Guinevere replied. "She also noticed the magic in you. She likely hopes it will be something she can use once revitalized within you."

"Despite her efforts, she knows she cannot find the Hallows on her own," Godric said. "She also knows you will not help her, but you are the only way she will find what she wants so she will not harm you, not while you hold purpose."

"How did she know of us in the first place?" Severus asked.

"Likely through her own fractured Sight and she probably felt the magic you brought," Rowena told him. "She is heavily connected to Black Magic and would have likely felt new Black Magic enter our world."

"And Merlin? Surely he's strong enough to stop her. Why hasn't he?" Harry asked, voicing his puzzlement.

"She is his greatest failing and his own fatal flaw because she is very similar to Calypso," Guinevere replied. "He knows the path Morgan is on because Calypso followed the same path and he nearly went with her. He believes he is unable to harm Morgan because he harmed Calypso and swore to never do so again. Instead, he has doomed himself to watch another he cares for fall as Calypso did."

"What happened?" Harry asked gently, hearing the tragedy in the yet untold story.

"Several centuries ago, Merlin and Calypso fell in love," Godric began and Harry looked at him, listening intently to the story. "There were few safe places in the world for wizard-kind and Merlin sought to create one, to create Camelot. However, he very nearly abandoned everything for Calypso as she delved further into Black Magic, into the dark side of Black Magic. She tempted him down the same path and he nearly followed, nearly lost himself for his love of her.

"He resisted and begged Calypso to give up Black Magic, but she refused. She cursed him with long life in the hopes he would one day return to her or, if not, suffer without her. When she began using her magic against others, he confronted her once more. He nearly fell to her while at the same time anguished she had chosen Black Magic over him.

"He was unable to kill her, both because he loved her and because she was an enchantress chosen by our Ladies of Magic alongside Lady Nimue and so was immortal. Instead, he trapped her and kept her close as a reminder of what he lost and what he almost became."

"The fountain," Harry realized and Godric nodded.

"He saw Morgan heading the same way as Calypso and struggles with what to do," Godric continued. "He knows she needs to be stopped, but he is also vulnerable to her temptation into the dark side of magic so he has refused to truly confront her. It is why he banished her."

Harry didn't respond, unsure what to say, nor did anyone else add to the story. He mused over what he learned, unable to stop from making comparisons, seeing Voldemort, Severus, Dumbledore, and even himself in the story. 

Voldemort seemed to be a mirror of Calypso and Morgan, choosing the dark side of magic, of humanity, over anything else. Calypso and Morgan had given up love for Black Magic. What had Voldemort given up?

In Severus, he saw a mixture of Merlin and Calypso. The man had fallen to the darkness, giving up on those who had given up on him, but had come back because of love. His actions and choices contributed to the loss of one he'd loved and he lived with that regret, with the choice he made over Lily Evans.

Like Merlin with Morgan, Dumbledore refused to confront Voldemort himself. Was he vulnerable to Voldemort's path as Merlin was to Morgan's? Did Voldemort remind him of a loss, a failure he couldn't accept?

As for himself, he understood Merlin's struggle against temptation. He'd felt the darkness, had had it offered to him. He felt pulled to it because maybe over there he could find himself. Maybe over there he could actually have the power to protect himself from everything and everyone that had hurt him. Maybe over there he could be what everyone expected and wanted. Maybe over there he wouldn't be alone. He could even understand Calypso and Morgan choosing the darkness. Despite what they had, they were probably searching for something more, needing something they knew wouldn't abandon them.

He cast a quick, subtle glance at the others, wondering about Severus' thoughts around the story of Merlin and Calypso, and Guinevere's, Rowena's, and Godric's own experiences and vulnerabilities to the dark parts of themselves. Dropping his eyes to his new mark before moving them to watch the passing hills, he sat in the silence of the remaining trip. Only the clopping of the horse's hooves on the dirt and the creaking of the wagon sounded amongst the open glades and rolling hills they travelled through.

Once they returned to the village, Harry and Severus were led to Isabella while Rowena returned to the infirmary and Godric went to find Artemus to inform his Knight son of Morgan's appearance. Isabella lived on her own in a small cottage just up the road from her parents, Helga and Thomas, and from the Nye cottage. Her cottage was only four rooms; the common area complete with seating, a table, cabinets, and a hearth, her bedroom, a lavatory, and a room filled with odd magic.

It was a dark room with no windows, but there was a charmed pattern in the ceiling that looked like the phases of the moon. The walls shimmered and the floor, instead of regular wood, was a deep glittery blue with glittery white dots creating the constellations. As he stared, Harry noticed them shifting and he realized they were likely mirroring the real constellations' placements above them, currently hidden by the daylight. In the center was a round table draped in a purple velvet cloth with a crystal ball on an intricate gold stand. It was a similar set-up to Trelawney's classroom, but without the very obvious fraudulent nature. Trelawney may have spoken one true prophecy, but, in Harry's opinion, that didn't make her a true Seer like Isabella. Candles with different shapes, inscribed designs, and coloured flames floated calmly around the room above their heads. A glass cabinet sat in a back corner, made of dark wood and clouded glass with inscriptions of some kind.

They were guided into the room by Isabella and watched as she carefully moved the table with the crystal ball off to the side before summoning large purple cushion, gesturing for them all to sit where the table had been. They did so, Isabella joining them, sitting in front of them with her legs folded to the side and her blue dress draped over them elegantly.

"I am pleased to see all of you," Isabella said, smiling at Severus and Harry.

"You knew about the horcrux?" Harry questioned in surprise.

"Not precisely," Isabella said, "but I could see parts of you in shadows. It was heartbreaking to see such empty parts in otherwise wonderful souls and auras."

Harry just looked at her, unsure how to respond.

"Now, what would you like me to See?" she asked pleasantly.

"Shadow connections," Guinevere told her. "We know you cannot see the Masters, but we thought you may be able to see the connection now the magic and bonds have been restored."

Isabella looked between Harry and Severus contemplatively, nodding slowly. "Certainly possible. If I may, Harry?"

"Of course," Harry agreed despite not knowing what he was agreeing to.

He watched as she lifted a hand and one of the various candles floated down to her, followed by another that came to hover in front of Harry. They were both white with golden runes inscribed on the surface and soft blue flames. She also waved her hand and the glass cabinet opened, something thin and wispy floating over to Isabella. As it glinted in the candlelight, Harry realized it was a golden thread. He watched as it passed through the flame on Isabella's candle and extended to Harry's, each end disappearing into the flames and the thread stretched between them.

"If you could hold the candle," Isabella requested and Harry cupped his hands around his candle's base. 

The runes on the two candles glowed brightly and the flames grew, some wrapping around the thread and travelling across it until they met in the center. Isabella murmured something and the flames on the candles turned dark, almost black with a glittering blue core, while the flames wrapped around the golden thread remained blue. She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, gazing into the black and blue flame of her candle. For several minutes, no words were spoken as Isabella gazed deep into the flames, the flickering lighting up her soft, honey-brown eyes and giving them a hint of blue.

"I see many bonds," she finally spoke. "Some are wreathed in fire, some in death, others in extraordinary love."

Harry looked through the fire at her, somewhat startled, unsure what to make of her observations.

"There are some, however, that have or will change your life, change your very self," she continued and Harry swallowed thickly, becoming unsettled. "I see you embroiled in dark riddles, their answers found in dark pasts."

Harry glanced at Severus. "It's got to be Voldemort. His real name is Riddle."

Severus just nodded in agreement and Harry turned back to Isabella.

"I also see a lost prince shrouded in pain," Isabella said. "Yet, the light you will inspire in each other will bring a happiness neither have ever known."

Harry frowned, unclear who she could be referring to this time.

"I believe that could be me," Severus said, sounding slightly hesitant, and Harry looked at the man again. "My mother's maiden name was Prince."

Harry blinked at him, stunned at the implications of what Isabella had said about this particular bond. His heart leapt slightly at the idea of Severus apparently being such a large part of his life.

"This one," Isabella said, pulling Harry's attention back to her. "This one is strong, quite a large part of you, but very difficult to see. I see one attached to you, but cloaked in death. Unfortunately, I can see no more of this bond."

"It must be the Master that holds your Hallow," Guinevere said, turning to Harry. "Is there anything else Death said to you? To either of you?"

"He told me to believe in what I will find and that my son will show me the way," Severus replied. "Except, I have no son to speak of so I am uncertain what he meant."

Harry saw the long stare Isabella gave the man and frowned slightly at the strange gaze. It reminded him so much of Luna, that glint that said she knew something.

"You will," was all Isabella said with the smallest of smiles, gaining a deeper frown from Harry and a furrowed brow from Severus.

"Harry?" Guinevere asked.

"Not really," Harry admitted, thinking back to his conversation with Death. "I mean, he said I have my Hallow already back in our time."

"You do?" Severus said, surprised, and Harry nodded.

"My invisibility cloak," Harry said. "It's Death's cloak."

"How did you get it?" Severus asked.

"Dumbledore gave it to me in first year, said my father had left it with him before he died," Harry told him.

"James Potter was not a Master of Death, was he?" Severus asked, looking at Isabella.

Isabella shook her head. "There have been no Masters in your time since those who currently are here until you."

"How would a Hallow have gotten to someone who wasn't a Master?" Guinevere asked, confused.

"Death said it passed where it needed to get to me," Harry remembered.

"It's an heirloom," Guinevere said in realization. "You're descended from the Master of the Cloak of Invisibility."

Harry turned to Isabella. "Can you see bloodlines?"

"I can, but the Masters remain hidden regardless of what I try to look for. I still will be unable to see a person or a name," Isabella told him.

"What about a child?" Severus suggested. "If the Hallow is to be passed, the Master will have a child if they have not already."

"Go as far back as you can from me until you get to someone you can't see," Harry added. "Maybe we can find someone who knows the Master."

"Quite clever thinking," Isabella said with a smile. "It is certainly worth a try."

Isabella ended the connection between the candles, sending the gold thread back to the cabinet and the candles back to float above them. She replaced them with other items, summoning a jar, a little velvet pouch, and a small dagger with a delicate handle and runes engraved on the silver blade. She placed the pouch and dagger next to her, and opened the jar, pouring the contents on the floor between her and Harry. As it spread across the starry floor, Harry realized it was a silvery coloured sand. Jar empty, she put it aside to pick up the pouch and pour its contents into her hand. There was a small, clear ball that resembled a marble and several flat, oval pieces that looked like simple stones. She held them in one hand and picked up the dagger, looking at Harry.

"To see a bloodline, the blood from that line is required," Isabella told him. "Only a drop is needed on this crystal." She pointed to the clear ball with the dagger.

While not thrilled at having to cut himself, Harry knew it was necessary and it was only a small cut anyway. So, he took the dagger and small ball.

"Simply cut your finger and let a drop fall on the crystal. Then, drop the crystal into the sand," Isabella explained.

Harry nodded in understanding and quickly pulled the blade across his index finger with a wince. Blood immediately bubbled out of the cut and he squeezed a drop onto the ball before letting it roll out of his palm onto the sand. The clear ball quickly turned red and began to glow. Isabella cupped the stones in her hands and muttered something over them. She quickly pulled her hands apart and the stones began to fall only to stop before hitting the floor. They hovered over the sand, spreading out as though searching for somewhere to land. Isabella then took the dagger back and swiftly sliced her palm, pressing it to the sandy floor.

A white glow emanated from her palm and the sand began to sparkle as a white rope escaped from under her hand. It slithered across the sand and touched the red ball. It glowed brightly again and began rolling through the sand seemingly aimlessly, the white rope following its odd path. Every few seconds, the ball would pulse with light and one of the flat stones would come to rest in the sand in the spot, runes etching themselves into the stone's surface.

"A long line," Isabella said, her eyes following the ball and stones. "So much power and greatness, and...yes, such pure love."

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling anxious and lost at the revelations. He wasn't sure he fit into such a bloodline and, while he knew his parents had loved him, he hadn't experienced any of that ‘pure love' since that Halloween night. He met Isabella's eyes when they rose to his, the woman smiling.

"You will see and you will have," she said, eyes flickering to Severus before lowering back to the sand and stones. She watched silently as several more stones settled on the floor, her gentle smile turning steadily into a confused frown. "The Master has cloaked them from Sight as well."

"Can you see anything?" Harry asked.

Isabella stared hard at a couple of stones whose surfaces were blurred instead of inscribed. "The shroud is strong. However, for all the Master's strength, he cannot cloak himself and his family to the same extent. I see a little girl with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows and a name...Aelina."

As soon as she said the name, the red ball pulsed brightly once more and fell dim, the red colour dissipating to leave a clear ball once again. Isabella sighed lightly and pulled her hand from the sand.

"I can see no more. The Master has hidden himself and his family well," she said regretfully.

"It is more than we had," Guinevere said optimistically. "We can search for a little girl named Aelina. I will speak to Arthur and the Knights."

As Guinevere spoke of the potential they had gained, Harry looked down at his wrist as his Hallow mark warmed and a whisper brushed his ear and the back of his mind.

"Come find me, Master of the Cloak."