July 19th, 991 AD

Somewhere in England, Britannia

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low, menacing growl that shook the ground beneath Merlin Ambrosius' boots.

Rain lashed at the scorched earth, soaking the black cloak that billowed behind him as he strode toward the ruins of Camelot.

Fires still raged in the surrounding forest, their eerie glow casting flickering shadows on what little remained of the once-great castle.

Merlin paused at the crumbling drawbridge, his amethyst eyes narrowing as he took in the devastation. The moat, long since dried to a cracked expanse of dirt, was littered with the charred remnants of battle. The portcullis hung crookedly from its hinges, a ghostly relic of a time before the Convergence had brought ruin to their world.

Beyond the shattered walls lay the heart of Camelot: The Round Table, untouched and pristine, as though defying the destruction around it.

'Fitting.' Merlin thought morbidly as he stepped forward, his staff tapping softly against the broken stone. 'The Round Table endures while the kingdom lies in ruin.'

He pushed the hood back from his head, allowing the rain to fall freely onto his snow-white hair, tied back in its signature ponytail.

The glow of the fires reflected in his amethyst eyes, a stark contrast to the grim set of his features. He exuded an otherworldly beauty that no mortal blood could account for, his presence both commanding and faintly inhuman.

The oppressive weight of his magic rolled off him in waves, even while suppressed.

The eight figures gathered around the table turned toward him, their cloaks black as the night. Each radiated an aura of power, yet naught but one, dared meet Merlin's gaze for long. He was not only a GrandMage but a Prince of Britannia—and more than that, he was now Merlin, Heir to the Throne.

A sharp voice broke the silence, slicing through the rain like a blade.

"Your Highness, I trust you had a good reason for delaying us." said Salazar Draconis Slytherin, the newly ascended young Lord.

He pushed back his hood, revealing a face carved with sharp, aristocratic features. His piercing green eyes met Merlin's with unflinching boldness, though his jaw was tight with restrained anger. His dark hair, tied in a topknot, glistened with rain.

Merlin's lips quirked upward in the faintest of smirks.

"Lord Slytherin." he said, his tone deceptively light.

"Your patience, as always, is appreciated. Rest assured, I would not have kept you waiting if it weren't necessary."

Salazar's expression darkened, though he inclined his head in deference. Merlin noted the tension in his frame, the barely contained rage that had simmered within him ever since the Abyssal spawn had decimated his family.

'Understandable,' Merlin mused. 'Though I wonder how he would react if he knew what I truly am.'

Before Salazar could respond, another figure stepped forward taking the attention off him.

"Well met, cousin." said Ignotus, his voice smooth and measured as he lowered his hood. His dark hair, falling in soft waves, framed a face that bore an uncanny resemblance to Merlin's own—sharp cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and those striking violet eyes that marked them both as royal blood. Unlike Salazar, Ignotus exuded calm authority, his gaze cool and calculating.

'Prince Ignotus Aurelian Peverell,' Merlin thought with a flicker of amusement. 'Always the diplomat little cousin.'

Among the group, Ignotus was the only one who could somewhat match Merlin in sheer magical presence. Though younger by several years, his potential was nothing short of extraordinary. It was no wonder the Peverells, cousins to the Royal Family, commanded such respect among the ancient families.

"We are all here now," Ignotus continued, his gaze briefly flickering to Salazar in subtle reprimand.

"Let us not waste time."

Merlin inclined his head in acknowledgment but said nothing. He could feel the tension in the room, the weight of unspoken grievances and loss. It was palpable, a heaviness that even he, with his charm could not remove.

"Indeed." Came a melodic voice, cutting through the air with practiced ease.

Merlin turned to see Rowena stepping forward, her black hair flowing like liquid midnight around her delicate features. Her icy blue eyes, sharp and unerring, fixed on Salazar.

"We stand in the ruins of Camelot, the seat of the Royal Family. Let us not dishonor this place with petty squabbles."

Merlin regarded her for a moment, his gaze lingering. 'Lady Rowena Calanthe Ravenclaw. As brilliant as she is beautiful.'

Of all the people he knew, Rowena was perhaps the only one, besides Ignotus and Hadrian, whose intellect could rival his own.

Though her biting pragmatism often put her at odds with others, she had a way of commanding attention without raising her voice.

"I couldn't agree more." Merlin said, his tone smoothing. He cast a glance at Salazar, who had wisely chosen not to respond, before turning his attention to the others.

One by one, the remaining figures revealed themselves.

Helga was the first, her fiery red curls glowing in the firelight. Even beneath her black robes, it was impossible to ignore her voluptuous figure, the curves lending her an air of femininity that was matched by her warmth. Her golden eyes, usually warm and inviting, were now tinged with sorrow and grief.

'Lady Helga Eostre Hufflepuff,' Merlin thought fondly. 'The heart of our group.'

There was a quiet strength to her, a steadiness that had kept them all grounded during the chaos of the Convergence. Although it was clear to all that the recent years weighed heavy on her.

Beside her stood Marie. Her hair, a darker auburn than Helga's, was tied back in a simple braid, accentuating her high cheekbones and the sharp determination in her golden eyes. Like Helga, she was blessed with an hourglass figure that even her robes could not hide.

Yet where Helga radiated warmth, Marie exuded a warrior's aura, her every movement measured and purposeful.

'Lady Marie Bellona Bones,' Merlin thought with admiration. 'Our shield. The Bones' defensive magic truly is remarkable.'

Next was Godric, a towering figure whose wild red hair and matching beard gave him the appearance of a battle-hardened warrior. His steel-grey eyes were sharp, betraying an intelligence that many overlooked in favor of his brash demeanor.

'Lord Godric Balthazar Gryffindor,' Merlin thought. 'The lion-hearted fool who wears his heart on his sleeve.'

And yet, for all his recklessness, Godric's unwavering loyalty had proven invaluable time and again.

Hadrian followed, his dark hair somehow a neat mess and his hazel eyes filled with quiet calculation. His posture was impeccable, his expression unreadable.

'Lord Hadrian Lucius Potter,' Merlin noted. 'The strategist.'

He had been Ignotus' partner in planning during the war, his pragmatism and sharp mind balancing Ignotus' long term vision. Together, they had been instrumental in outmaneuvering the Abyssals and Elysians.

Finally, Orion stepped forward, his long silver-threaded black hair gleaming faintly in the firelight. His grey eyes were cold, assessing, and his presence exuded an air of quiet authority. Known for his mastery of dark curses, Orion was as menacing as he was ambitious.

'Lord Orion Aquila Black,' Merlin thought, his lips curling faintly. 'A dangerous man not afraid to make sacrifices.'

The Blacks had always been a force to reckon with, and Orion embodied his House entirely.

With the introductions complete, Merlin let the silence stretch, his amethyst eyes sweeping over the gathered Lords and Ladies. The air grew heavier, his magical presence pressing down on the room with deliberate force to get their attention. He noted the subtle shifts in posture, the beads of sweat forming on brows, though none dared to speak against him.

Only Ignotus met his gaze unflinchingly, his own power a quiet counterweight.

When Merlin finally spoke, his voice was low but carried the weight of command.

"We have survived the Convergence, but at a cost that should never have been paid. Camelot lies in ruins. Our villages are ash. Our people… scattered." His voice caught, but he pushed forward, his gaze hardening.

"Arthur. Morgana. Antioch. Cadmus. And many more. They gave their lives so that we might see another dawn. Their sacrifices must not be in vain."

The silence was heavy, grief settling over them like a shroud. Each of them bore the scars of the war, both seen and unseen.

"We cannot allow this to happen again!" Merlin continued, his tone sharp.

"The convergence has left our world vulnerable, and it's clear that if we do not take steps to safeguard ourselves, it will not be The Abyss or Elysium that destroys us—it will be ourselves."

Helga interrupted the momentary silence, her eyes shining with quiet determination.

"Then let us build something that will endure." she said strongly.

"A sanctuary, a place of learning, where the next generation can be prepared for what lies ahead."

Merlin's gaze softened as he regarded her.

"You speak of a school." Salazar said, his voice thoughtful.

"Yes, a school." Helga confirmed.

"But more than that. A stronghold, where not only can we nurture future generations, but the very castle will be their protection."

Godric's deep voice echoed as he addressed the group.

"We can build it on my family's land. I'm willing to sell the area for this purpose. There's a newly formed network of leylines converging near the great forest and the lake. It's an ideal location, fertile with magic. And let's not forget that remarkable plant that purified the tainted land and rejuvenated the soil after the battles. The area is littered with them. What was it called again?" He glanced around the table, his brow furrowed.

"Hogwort." Rowena answered promptly, her tone sharp and efficient as always.

Godric nodded thoughtfully. "Hogwort. Hmm… Hogwarts. I like the sound of it." he said, testing the name aloud.

"That plant thrived where nothing else could. It healed what had been broken. May our school do the same. Flourishing and standing strong even in the harshest times."

Helga's soft smile widened, and she nodded her approval.

"A beautiful sentiment, Godric. Hogwarts. Yes, the name feels… right. A place of resilience, like the plant itself. It's fitting for what we hope to achieve."

Salazar, who had been listening quietly with a skeptical expression, finally spoke.

"Hogwarts?" he repeated, his deep voice laced with dry amusement.

"Does it not sound rather… ridiculous for such an institution? Hardly the name of a prestigious magical school."

Rowena tilted her head, her gaze settling on Salazar.

"Silly it may sound to some, but there is meaning in it. It honors the land and the magic that sustains it. Besides, what better way to remind our students of the importance of thriving even in adversity?"

Salazar hummed thoughtfully, his skepticism softening as he considered her words.

"I suppose," he said grudgingly, "it does have a certain symbolism. But mark my words, Godric, you'll be the one explaining this name to future generations."

Godric let out a booming laugh, clapping Salazar on the shoulder. "Gladly, old friend. Let them wonder about it. It will give me a good story to tell."

Merlin allowed himself a rare smile.

"Hogwarts sounds perfect" he echoed.

As the rain continued to pour and the fires burned low, Merlin looked around the room, taking in the faces of his allies—his peers.

For the first time in years, he felt the faintest flicker of hope for the future.