Preventing a repeat of fate

Chapter 5:

Harry was in the same park he had been coming to for the past month. He sat on the swing, think about his latest dream. He had actually begun to record his dreams in a journal, which he had bought from a Muggle shop. Thankfully, he had had the foresight to exchange some of his wizard money for Muggle money two years previously when he had last been to Gringots, and currently had a secret stash with the rest of his treasured belongings under the loose floorboard in his bedroom.
He tapped his pen against the page of the journal as he tried to recall the fading images of his dreams. Even so late in the day, much of his dream was still quite vivid.
He could remember the vague images of people and events, not so much of names and faces. He did remember fighting with the boy's uncle, who also happened to be a very important king. He remembered the boy having a conversation were his father, but not exactly what it was about.
What was clearest about his dreams, were only two words. Words which had been spoken to him by the mother.
"Guileless Son."
What did that even mean? And why did it make him feel so many conflicting emotions?
Harry suddenly remembered that these were the first words of each verse to the song which the mother always sang to him.

Guileless son,
I'll shape your belief,
And you'll always know that your Father's a thief...
Harry quickly wrote the words down. He thought that maybe, if he decoded this riddle, then he might be able to figure out the meaning behind his dreams.
If only Hermione was here. She would probably be able to figure this out in minutes. Just look at how well she did against the Snape riddle in first year.
Harry shook his head. No, he couldn't do this with Hermione.
While he had been having these dreams for over six weeks now, he had not yet told anyone of them. He thought that if his friends did not want to share with him, then why should he share with them?
Anyway, he could figure this song out by himself. He did pretty well against the Sphinx during the third task.
He shook his head and continued to contemplate the lyrics.
"Guileless Son." Harry had no idea what Guileless meant.
"I'll shape your belief." Shape your belief? Harry thought over this for a long time. It sounded as if the person singing this was saying she would manipulate him into believing what she wanted him to believe. Harry shuddered at this thought.
"And you'll always know that your father's a thief."
What could that possibly mean? While the father in his dreams was harsh at times, Harry would not exactly call him a thief.
"And you won't understand the course of your grief. But you'll always follow, the voices beneath..."
Harry took a deep breath and sighed. This was going to be extremely difficult. He felt as if he were trying to put together a puzzle with most of the peaces missing.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when he heard approaching voices. He looked up to see Dudley and his gang walking through the park, doubtlessly on their way home from beating up yet another child of Little Winging. He had come to hate how Dudley was the one beating up teen year olds, and yet he, Harry, was the one considered a delinquent.
Harry thought of the eldest brother from his dreams. He e imagined how Dudley would react to seeing him. He and his gang would go running for the hills.
Harry decided to follow Dudley home, as Uncle Vernon would not be to happy if he came home even a minute later than Dudley. As he reached the corner leading into Magnolia Crecsent, he was forced to stifle a laugh as he heard Dudley's new nickname.
"Big D"?
What could that possibly mean?
Harry smirked as he thought of what the "D" in "Big D", could mean.
When the gang left, Harry caught up with Dudley. He knew the wise thing would be to not engage him. Harry had been told by his friends, and much to his is incredulity, Sirius, to not get into trouble.
But with the combination of him not receiving actual information from his friends and his extremely confusing and frustrating dreams, Harry felt as if he needed to blow off some steam. Plus, Dudley definitely deserved it.
At first it was fun, teasing Dudley about his new nickname and wondering if his new friends were aware of some of the names Aunt Petunia used to call, and still calls, Dudley. It just felt good, to lash out at something after so many weeks of frustration. But then Dudley said something that caught Harry right off guard.
"You think your some brave, don't you? With that... That thing in your pocket. But your not as brave at night when your in bed and screaming nonsense words."
Harry paused. Nonsense words in his sleep? He was not aware of any such night time happenings. What if... What if they could provide some much needed information? Even the slightest clue would be good.
"What nonsense words." He asked, attempting to fain casualty.
"I do not." Dudley said, shrugging. "Gahearist... Garwean... Agrovan... Geareeth..."
"You mean Gaheris, Gawain, Agravaine and Gareth?" Harry asked, not knowing where the words he knew to be names came from.
"Whatever." Dudley replied. "What are they? Something from that freak school you go to?"
"They're names." Harry replied.
Dudley snorted.
"Really stupid names."
"Says the one who's name is Dudley."
"Who are they? Your little freaky friends? With names like that, they I wouldn't be surprised. They sound like the freakiest of them all."
Harry suddenly got really offended. Somehow, he felt a connection with these names, or who they might potentially belong to. And Harry was not about to let Dudley of all people bad mouth them.
Suddenly, everything went cold and dark.
"What... What are you doing?" Dudley stuttered.
"I'm not doing anything." Replied Harry.
Suddenly, Dudley mad to punch him. By some miracle, Harry managed to dodge out of the way. The larger teen began to run.
A sense of dread then filled Harry as he saw two hooded shapes coming towards him and Dudley. Dementors. But how? Why? And the worst part was that Dudley was running straight towards one of them.
The other moved toward Harry. He acted on instinct. He drew his wand and attempted to conjure a happy memory.
For some reason, the memory which came to mind was something which he had only seen in his dreams. It was a scene with the five brothers, together and happy. Harry did not know why, but this filled him with more joy than most of his other memories.
The silver stag which erupted from the tip of his wand was as bright as the moon on a clear night. The dementors did not stand a chance.

Later Harry sat at the small desk in his bedroom, looking in his journal.
The past hour had been quite eventful. Confronting the Dursleys after coming home with Dudley looking as if he had just thought against an army of ghosts. Owls constantly swooping in. Being expelled from Hogwarts, only to then be unexpelled and be sentenced to a ministry hearing. It was all too much.
As soon as he was able to return to his room, he had sat down at his desk, taken out his journal, and began to write the names which Dudley and given to him.
Gaheris, Gawain, Agravaine and Gareth.
He presumed that, as there was four of them, these were the names of four of the brothers from his dreams, as the five brothers were the most central characters. He also theorised that they were the four eldest brothers, as he appeared to be dreaming from the perspective of the youngest brother.
The only problem was, trying to figure out who these people were. He knew he had heard of them somewhere. He just did not know where.
He sighed. After all the drama from that night, he only wanted to sleep. Who knows? Maybe he might be able to find some more information from his dream.
So he laid, hoping for answers in his latest dream.

They had been travelling for several weeks. Both Mordred and Gaheris could hardly wait to reach Camelot. They were constantly fidgeting with excitement. It didn't help that their brothers, especially Gawain, kept telling them stories of the incredible capital of Arthur's kingdom.
When they were within a days ride to Camelot, his three brothers took him and Gaheris aside to have a privet conversation with them. They could tell that it was important, as even Gawain's face was painted with a serious expression.
"Before we reach Camelot," Began Agravaine. "We feel that we must warn you of something which could put all of us, most of all Mordred, in great danger."
The two youngest brothers listened closely. Gareth continued.
"As you are aware, Arthur has very strict laws concerning magic. While it is not strictly forbidden, no one in Britain is allowed to practice any forms of magic that have not been first approved of by Arthur's court sorcerer, Merlin."
A shudder ran up dread spine. For years his mother hand ranted and raved about the sorcerer Merlin Emrys. For years he wondered why his mother hated the sorcerer so much. Only recently did he begin to believe it was due to his participation in the death of her father and the forced marriage of her mother.
Mordred was broken out of his musings by Gareth continuing their explanation.
"Arthur will execute any sorcerer or sorceress that Merlin believes is dangerous, or practicing dangerous arts. We feel the only reason why Mother is still alive is because Arthur pities her."
"The point is." Gawain said finally. "Will do not believe it would be wise to reveal dread talent with magic. Merlin hates our mother just as much as she despises him. He would do anything if it meant hurting her in any way."
"So please," Agravaine finished. "Be careful."
The two youngest brothers nodded gravely.
As the brothers walked back to the rest of the part, Mordred thought over what his brothers had told them.
The lives of the sorcerers of Britain were controlled by one man. He knew this was not right. After all, no one was perfect. And considering what his father had told him about Merlin, he was hesitant to trust the old Sorcerer. Mordred concluded that he would have to be careful when around Merlin.

When they finally arrived in Camelot, Mordred could do little more than stare at it's grandeur.
Towering spires, glistening walls, flags with the Pendragon crest flapping in the wind... It was all so beautiful.
Upon reaching the gates, dread attention was court by something which could have possibly rivalled Camelot in it's beauty.
A regal looking woman stood there, in one of the finest gowns Mordred had ever seen. Her head was adorned with a golden circlet. This could only be one woman. Queen Guinevere.
When Arthur reached her, he dismounted from his horse, took Guinevere's hand in his own, bent down and kissed it.
"My beloved." He said. "It is truly joyful to be back in Camelot. Almost as great as it is to be back by your side."
"Your words flatter me." The Queen replied.
Though the Queen appeared to be talking to Arthur, Mordred noticed that her gaze also flickered to the knights. Or, more specifically, Sir Lancelot, Arthur's first knight and closest friend.
Mordred decided to ignore it, for now.
Queen Guinevere glanced over to where he and his brothers stood. Her brows furrowed.
"I was under the impression that you would be returning with only one new companion. And yet I see two new faces?"
Arthur cleared his throat.
"Yes, well. As you recall, Morgana and Lot have five sons, with the two youngest only being a year apart in age. The youngest, Mordred..."
He gestured toward Mordred.
"Wished to be with his brothers, as well as to prevent his mother from suffering to long with the dread of loosing her sons."
For a second, the Queen's face was marred by suspicion. However, it was quickly replaced by yet another charming smile.
"Well, I welcome boy Gaheris and Mordred to Camelot. It will be a pleasure to have you here."
"The pleasure is all mine, my Lady." The two replied at the same time.
With the pleasantries out of the way, the party was soon led into Camelot.

Mordred had just organised his belongings in his new chambers. He was at a lose as for what to do.
Gawain and Agravaine had both gone to talk with some of the friends they had made in Camelot. Gareth had offered to show both he and Gaheris around the castle and surrounding grounds. While Gaheris had accepted the offer, Mordred had declined, as he felt his time would be better spent organising his chambers. He now wished he had followed his third and fourth brother, as then at least he would now have something to do.
Finally, he decided to have an explore of the magnificent castle by himself.
Camelot was truly a grand place. While his home in Orkney was firm and tuff, , Camelot was more soft and eloquent. There were many portraits and tapestries, displaying beautiful artwork. Almost every room and corridors was flooded with light.
He was just walking through one of the lush gardens, when he was suddenly nocked over.
"Ooof." He said, falling to the ground.
"Ahh..." Said another voice.
Mordred looked up to see a girl around his age, lying diagonal on top of him. He could not help but blush.
"I'm sorry." He said, embarrassed.
"No, no." The girl replied, finally getting off of him so that he could sit up. "It is I who should be apologising. My mind must have drifted again..."
"No, it's okay. I should have been watching where I was..."
He trailed off as their eyes met. She was beautiful. All so mysterious. Her eyes were full of life and a strangeness to them.
Mordred cleared his throat.
"My I?"
He extended his arm. The girl took it and they stood up together.
When their skin first made contact, Mordred had felt a jolt go straight through his body. It was as if he were struck by lightning.
The girl examined him.
"I do not believe I have seen you before." She said, a dreamy tone to her voice.
"I... I have only just arrived here." He replied. "I am Mordred."
The girl looked at him curiously.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, my lord." She replied.
"Please," He said. "Just call me Mordred."
He had never liked it when he was addressed with any form of noble title. It made him feel uncomfortable.
"Well, Mordred," She said cheerfully. "My name is Nimue."

Harry suddenly jerked awake. He scrambled for his journal and pen. After retrieving these things, he quickly turned on his bedside lamp.
Not once since these dreams began, did he remember anyone's names. All that remained in his memories were the images and basic ideas of what occurred during these dreams.
But now... Now was different. He could actually remember one of the person's names. Oh, and what a name. Just thinking about it made Harry feel so many emotions. Happiness, sorrow, regret... All and so many more were swimming around in his head.
Finally, he turned to a new page. He usually tried to be chronological when it came to his dreams, as he believed this would greatly assist in finding any meaning behind his dreams.
However, this time, he began with the name. The name which had not come until the very end of his dream.
Nimue.