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Merlin - Chapter 01: Dreams Of Wars
🕑 Added 2025-11-24 10:07:18 +0000 UTCDisclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
“Dialogue”
‘Thoughts’
-Author notes-
A.N - Okay, here is the second story that would run along 'All The Time in The World'. This one was the second most voted by you, the readers, so I decided to write it as well.
This fic is going to be about Harry Potter as the reincarnation of Merlin, the legendary wizard from the tales of Camelot.
As such, it will include several characters from those stories and I will try to incorporate them all into the world of Harry Potter.
I hope you guys like this one as well. Make sure to comment and let me know what you think, as this helps me a lot when trying to make the best story possible. -
Chapter 01: Dreams Of Wars
451 AD, Kingdom of Camelot
A sweaty young man managed to make his way into the throne room.
No one had stopped him on the way in because all the guards recognized the emblem on his chest. This was the Royal Messenger and close friend of their king, referred to by many as ‘Hermus the Nimble’.
“Your Majesty!” the young man shouted while raising his hand in the air. “King Arthur!”
The King saw this person and became alarmed by their lamentable state, something they had never seen before. “Hermus? In the Lord’s name, what happened to you?”
Not only did the young man look tired, but on closer inspection, it became evident that he had also been grievously wounded. He was currently using one of his hands to press on his right side, as blood poured in between his fingers.
“Call the healers, now!” the King commanded.
Some of the guards present immediately rushed out of the throne room to deliver his message.
Meanwhile, King Arthur himself moved quickly to his friend’s aid.
“King Arthur…” the young man began to speak, but was promptly interrupted by the King.
“Don’t waste your breath, my friend. Let the medics check your injuries first. Then w—”
“N-no… too important.” The messenger would not dare to interrupt the King’s words had the situation been different, but this was a matter of utter urgency.
“The Kingdom is in danger, urgg!” The man groaned in pain while some blood poured from his mouth. “An army…”
“Did you spot an army moving our way? Is that what you are saying?” Arthur noted the head of the messenger making a nod.
“I see…” Things had become more tense as of late, so he had been expecting a war.
“Is it the Saxons? Those damn barbarians!” Arthur clenched his teeth.
“It’s the… urgg…” The messenger was starting to choke on his own blood and collapsed on the floor.
“Hermus!” King Arthur exclaimed. “Where are the healers when you need them?!” he shouted at the remaining occupants in the throne room.
The few guards, dignitaries, and advisors looked at each other, not very sure of what to do. It was obvious that the young messenger was not going to survive long enough to receive any sort of medical attention.
The young man opened his mouth again and managed to get a few sounds out.
Just one name.
“M-Mor… dred…”
That was his last word before he passed away.
“Mordred?!” King Arthur went pale at hearing that name. “But I killed that monster already.” He had lost so much in their battle; how could he be back? And with an army, nonetheless.
While Arthur was considering the possible scenarios, one of his advisors approached.
“Your Majesty, if what that messenger just said is true, we would do well in calling all your Knights back. We will require their might.”
Arthur frowned. There was one particular knight whom he did not want to call back, but he knew well how dire the situation was. “Fine… send them a message. Hopefully, they can make it back in time.”
“I’m sure they will. Most of them are already inside Camelot or its surrounding territory,” the advisor said.
“Excuse me, your Majesty,” his second advisor spoke next. “But if Lord Mordre—”
“He is no Lord!” The tone in the King’s voice was cold and threatening to hear.
The advisor trembled slightly. “My apologies. But if Mordred is the one involved in this upcoming threat, then… There is a good chance that the witch, Morgan le Fay, will also be present.”
King Arthur frowned at the mention of his half-sister. But even more so because he already knew what the advisor was going to suggest next. “You want me to call Merlin.”
“He is the most powerful sorcerer in the Kingdom. I’m sure we will have need of his magic.”
King Arthur seemed to be considering it for a moment.
“Shall I send someone to inform Mister Merlin of the situation?”
“No.” Arthur said firmly. “I will go talk with that crazy man myself. Besides…” Arthur glanced around. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t already watching us…”
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The images became distorted as he tapped on the crystal ball with his fingers.
“Ohoho, still very sharp, Arthur.” The sorcerer covered the crystal ball with a black cloth. He had seen enough.
He turned around and walked towards a nearby window. Moving the curtains away, he got a great view of the Kingdom of Camelot, as well as the surrounding area.
After all, this tower of his was the tallest building in the entire realm.
The sorcerer ran his fingers across his long, white hair. “A war… Mordred. Yes, this is going to be a bloody affair, no doubt about that.”
Merlin sighed. “Morgan, you foolish girl… will I see you again soon?”
He glanced around the room, and his eyes landed on one particular black book that had been carefully placed on an altar.
Just as the sorcerer was considering something, the image darkened until everything became pitch black.
It was then that Harry opened his eyes.
“Ouch!” He had lifted his body so quickly that he ended up hitting his head on the low ceiling.
“Damn… that hurt…” He rubbed his forehead, trying to push the pain away.
“That dream again,” Harry muttered. “Why do I keep having those strange dreams?”
They always felt so vivid that it almost looked like he was truly there, living among knights and royalty.
“I wish I were there…” he lamented. Compared to that life, the one that he had was truly saddening.
“Boy!, wake up already!” The loud voice of his uncle Vernon yelling at him while banging on the door of his cupboard quickly brought Harry back to the real world.
Where he was nothing more than a servant to those people whom he refused to refer to as family.
“Coming, Uncle Vernon…” Harry responded, knowing that refusal to do so would soon be accompanied by physical punishment.
He stood up from his bed and hurried to put some clothes on before leaving his room. It was time to cook breakfast.
