"Well begun is half done" - Mary Poppins (from the movie)

I seem to be able to generate ideas and scenes that have no further story to them. Or sometimes my muse just abandons the story.

I've decided to post some of them here. After all, other writers I like have their "plot bunny hutches", or "Odd Ideas" files. Some of these I really, really want to continue.

Like this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the legends of England.

Britain's Darkest Hour

Harry Potter was lost.

Of course there were different degrees and meanings of lost, and several applied.

He was lost in that he didn't know where to go from here. Voldemort had succeeded in overcoming the Ministry. The Order was all but wiped out. He had barely escaped with his life after the last "Pimpernel" mission. But the exile community near Reins, France had just been destroyed, so a lot of those rescued had been killed anyway.

He was lost in that he didn't feel he had the strength to go on. Most of his friends and classmates were dead. Dumbledore was probably mad, going on about the power of love and pieces of souls. Hermione had researched the whole horcrux thing, and while it was similar to the soul jars of the ancient Egyptians (which led to walking corpses somewhat different than Infiri), she could find no reference, even in the books where Dumbledore said it was, about ripping or dividing a soul. Whatever Voldemort had done to return to a body, it didn't involve the non-existent horcruxes.

But England was overrun. Giants destroyed with impunity. The power grid was down, and the army was ineffective - every time they seemed to get organized, their leaders would get Imperiused, and they would turn on each other. Dementors spread the "Sleeping plague" and none of the muggle scientists could stop it. This led to a blockade around England; fears of a man-made or natural disease with no cure, no known cause, and no hope had frightened the rest of the world.

Harry was also lost in that he didn't know where he was. Not specifically. He was in a part of the Paimpont forest where there were no paths or roads that he could see. He knew Reins was somewhere within a few miles; in that respect he wasn't very lost. He had come here to think, leaving the site of death behind. But he had come to no conclusions; no insight came to him.

He climbed a hill to see if he could get his bearings. The hillside was mostly devoid of trees, so once he was at the top he had a clear view of the tree tops of the forest. "Clear" also seemed to be a relative term. A mist seemed to be rising as the sun was setting. The sunlight was warm on his face, but he shivered looking at the mist for some reason. The trees lost their definition as leaves and branches and took on a vague green shape stretching to the west, disappearing into the setting sun.

The trees began swaying. No, not really. They were undulating, rising and falling, like waves. That was what they looked like, exactly like waves! The blur of the green amidst the mist was moving as if it were ocean waves, rolling in towards him. He even smelled the salt in the air.

NO! Impossible! Coming from the setting sun was a dark shape, that Harry would have sworn was a boat. But it couldn't be. He was in a forest, no matter how much it looked like the ocean.

But yes, it was indeed a ship. Harry didn't know enough about watercraft to know what kind, but he was sure it wasn't modern. There was no sail and no oars. As it came closer, there was no sound except the splash of water as the prow cut through it. It floated up to the hill, sitting on the green mist/water/treetops, and turned, allowing Harry to look over the gunwale of the fifteen foot craft. Inside was a wooden platform or bed.

Or a bier, as there was a body lying on it.

He was dressed in decorated leather that Harry could see was both functional and impressive looking. His head rested on a shield with a white dragon emblem. On his head was circlet of gold, and beside him was a metal helmet. His hands were entwined, upon his chest but were empty. For some reason that seemed wrong, to Harry. He looked like he should have been clasping a sword, for some reason. There was an empty scabbard attached to his belt, and again, Harry felt that was wrong.

Harry gasped as the man opened his eyes. He took a breath, which told Harry that he hadn't been breathing before. He looked around, and stared at Harry for a moment.

"A bit of help here," he groaned.

Harry splashed through the water, and climbed over the side of the ship. He helped the man sit up; he was large, heavy, and felt very strong.

"Have you something to drink?" he croaked out. "They said I have been mostly dead for quite a while."

Harry handed him a plastic water bottle. The man tried to pull the top off. Harry stopped him, and unscrewed the lid. The man finished half of it.

"Ahhh! Very clean water. Very strange water-skin, though."

"It's a plastic bottle," Harry answered, used to explaining the modern world to wizards.

"I see there is much I should learn, and probably not that much time in which to learn it. Tell me, young sir, as this is Britain's darkest hour, how fares our country? What news can you give me of our homeland?"

Harry helped the knight (he couldn't help thinking of him in that way) off the ship. It sailed away, but faded from view long before it should have. The water/forest effect, however, remained.

"An evil wizard has taken over the country. The rest of the world believes that the country is affected by a new, deadly disease and have blockaded the island, allowing no one in or out. The disease is really a horrible death caused by dark creatures under the wizard's control."

"And you? You have the same air about you as Merlin, yet you have not his stature. Are you a wizard, too?"

"Yes, sir."

He turned away from Harry, but kept talking. "You oppose this dark wizard?"

"I do. He killed my parents and many of my friends, as well as many innocent people. I've been opposing him, but it's not enough."

The knight nodded. "As I will soon be returning to Britain to fight this rogue, will you join me?"

"No offense, sir, but he is a powerful wizard. What can you do against him?"

He frowned, but Harry didn't think he was upset by the question. The knight muttered, "Where is she? We do not have all day! Darkest hour and all that. . . ."

"To answer your question," he said louder, "one thing I can do is surprise them. If they are anything like the sorcerers of my day, they like to use the death curse?"

"Yes."

"Well, I happen to be immune!" he said with a chuckle. "You can not kill someone twice."

"You're dead?"

He turned towards Harry as he spoke, "Yes, well, I'm sure I'm alive now, through no fault of my own, I may add. Ah, here it is!" He turned away at some movement in the water.

An arm, clad in white, rose from the water holding a sword. The hand didn't really throw the sword, it just released it. The blade reflected the sun as it spun through the air towards the knight who caught it by its hilt. Harry couldn't help but think that the man seemed complete now that he had his sword in hand. He swung the large metal object around like it was weightless, then put it in its scabbard. Harry looked back at the "water" but found it was gone.

"So, master magician, by what name are you known?"

"Harry Potter, sir."

"Harry Potter, would you consent to become my advisor and court magician?"

"I would like to sir, but my job is to fight Voldemort."

"He is the dark wizard that holds my island in thrall?"

"Er, yes sir."

He broke into a large, friendly smile. "Then there is no problem, as that is my first job, too! Come! Let us go to town and get sustenance, and then we shall journey to Britain and begin the battle." He somehow hooked his shield to his back, and his helmet to his belt, and strode down the hill.

"Excuse me, sir, but what is your name?"

"What? I apologize, Master Harry! It was extremely rude of me, as well as being very big-headed to expect you to recognize me! I am Arthur Pendragon, Lord of Camalondunum, and High King of all Britain!"

Author Note: I like this scene a lot. The problem is I don't have a story to go with this scene. I have no idea how sword wielding Arthur will bring victory.