The Third Harvest Moon Ⅳ

The darkness fades away to reveal the weary figure of Marcellus, the first Headmaster of Hogwarts sitting in his office. Standing before him is a much younger wizard with handsome, but sharp features that had graduated in recent years past. Marcellus clasps his hands together and rests them on his desk. "What may I do for you, Merlin?" He said to his former student.

"I have seen it, Headmaster," Merlin solemnly replied. "And I cannot in the good conscience of mind simply turn a blind eye and ignore the abomination."

Marcellus lets out a weary sigh and says, "Salazar thought very much the same, and yet he too was unable to bind the creature in the end. And even with all your gifts and power Merlin, our foe is far too cunning to be so easily caught."

"I have seen a way," Merlin confidently retorted. "A world where magic and muggles co-exist, Camelot."

"Is this the future, which you have seen, Merlin?" Marcellus inquired as Merlin briskly nods his head in affirmation. "Then you also know the future which I have seen and spoken to you much about."

"I know that which you have seen, Headmaster," Merlin resolutely muttered. "However, I have faith in the child that will soon be born, Arthur, will be his name, and his name will resound throughout all of the centuries to come!"

"A muggle," Marcellus flatly interrupted, "who will die within fifty to sixty years' time at best, Merlin. What then? Will his heir share the same views as his father or like the countless rulers before who became twisted with lust for greed, glory, and power? All humans are selfish, Merlin, muggle, or wizard alike never forget that!"

"Yes, but I can also hope in the bright future that will come," Merlin determinedly explained. "I thank you, Headmaster, for all your wise counsel, but I shall not stray from my endeavor."

Marcellus's lips twitch with semi-bitterness as he watches the young farseer depart from his office with a confident, upright stride. He too once believed that he was capable of turning fate aside, and in the end, he had not been strong enough and far underestimated his foe and the depth of their depravity. He could only desperately hope that the future which Merlin saw would be sure and true, but that which he himself foresaw was no less true. And when that day came, what an awful day that would be.

Just as suddenly, Rowan is pulled sideways as everything goes wary and she roughly lands on her feet in another memory. It was almost disorienting, to say the least. And a weaker stomach would have long since been emptied.

The wind roars around Marcellus, the First Headmaster as he braves the storm and peers through the sheets of rain ahead. The wind shrilly screams, but there in the distance, the glowing entrance of a fire-warmed cave. Pulling his robes closer, he continues forward with care lest he slips and falls twisting an ankle. He was no longer as young and spry as in his prime, and even then, his physical body had been rather dubious at best when in comparison to that of Godric and Salazar.

Halting at the edge of the cave entrance, Marcellus lowers his hood feeling the fierce rain drizzling down his hair and face. "May a weary traveler enter and seek the wisdom of a soothsayer?" He carefully asked and waited for a response all the while gripping his wand.

"Enter traveler," at last a hoarse voice rasped, "but enter at your own peril. You have been duly warned."

Marcellus wipes his wet face dry as best as he can with his sleeve, and cautiously enters the soothsayer's lair. The walls are painted with runes that are dyed with rust-like paint, blood. An awful metallic stench fills the air as the bones of small creatures and not so small are laid to waste at the side of the walls. Something suddenly skids and he pauses down to glance and sees a human femur bone glittering in the flickering firelight.

Clenching his wand that much tighter, Marcellus moves forward showing no trace of his unease. Hunched over a boiling pot is an ancient soothsayer with stark white, wild untamed hair that has feathers and bones intertwined as decorations. The gnarled soothsayer lifts her head to reveal a craggy face with a bird-like nose. Two painted eyes in charcoal can be seen on her forehead, and every time she blinks to reveal two painted eyes on her the back of her eyelids.

The soothsayer does not speak as she grips the ladle with her talon-like nails and stirs the boiling pot. The soothsayer opens her mouth to reveal a gap filled mouth with aged yellow teeth. "Wizard, you have come a long way," she croaked. "Across the sea to the lands of the Gaul's. What wisdom do you seek and require from an old soothsayer such as I?"

A drop drips from Marcellus's damp hair and down the back of his neck causing a shiver to rush down his spine. Ignoring the shiver, he firmly replies, "I seek the wisdom that only Deliyuh, the Soothsayer can provide."

The grimy, wooden ladle abruptly ceases to turn causing the contents within the pot to slosh around, before settling back down. The Soothsayer narrows her yellow-like eyes as she vigilantly says, "Very few know that name, and even fewer still live to tell the tale. And so, wizard let us cease with these flatteries and speak truthfully. Just what is it that which you so desperately seek?"

"I seek information regarding the abomination," Marcellus solemnly answered causing the Soothsayer to pull back and bare her teeth at him.

The Soothsayer begins to chant as the bones within the cave begin to rustle and move to creep forward. "I bear you no ill will, soothsayer!" Marcellus cried out. "However, the abomination seeks to destroy all that which I care for, and it will not rest until its task is complete."

The bones cease to move as the Soothsayer cease to chant and warily regards him through narrowed eyes. "Drink," she ordered, before reaching into the folds of her thick wool robes. Removing a stopper, she sips at it first, before handing it over for him to drink.

Marcellus takes a sip and almost gags at the taste of blood but still does as he is told. The weathered Soothsayer studies him through narrowed eyes before snatching the vial back and placing it within the folds of her clothes. "You are not possessed, wizard," she muttered as she licked her mouth clean that is darkened by blood, but her aged teeth are still tainted by a reddish color.