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Snatches of green flitted across the inside of Merlin's eyelids, and he startled awake.
(Merlin had been having dreams for a while—nightmares that surrounded his unconscious. He knew they were somehow connected to a prophecy he'd found about the Dark Lord and the Chosen One. He'd wanted to join in to help fight in the war, but the Old Religion held him at bay, forcing him to wait.)
"Merlin?" Arthur reached out towards him, groggy. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure," Merlin replied. "It's almost as if—" He froze for half a second, then leaped out of bed and shuffled through the piles of paper on his desk. "—it's off-balance."
He held up a paper triumphantly, then showed it to Arthur, who squinted in the dark. "Merlin, I can't read that."
Merlin glanced down at the paper and blushed. "Oh, yeah." He snapped his fingers and the lights turned on. "It's the end of July."
Arthur stared at him blankly. "And that means…?"
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...." Merlin quoted.
Arthur paled considerably.
"I ought to teach you magic," Merlin said, then turned away to straighten up his papers.
"Wait. How did I read that?
⚡⚡⚡
Eleven years later, Merlin gathered a handful of important things—clothes, mostly, but also all of his books and artifacts—on second thought, maybe it wasn't just a handful—and shoved them into a trunk. Maybe he should just make the trunk a pocket dimension-slash-portal to his house. Then he wouldn't have to pack everything. Ideas for the future, or whatever. If he ever got around to it.
"You're never going to get around to that," Arthur smirked.
"What?"
"You were talking to yourself out loud. Again, might I add."
"Huh."
Arthur snorted, and rolled back over to go back to sleep.
"Ah—nope!" Merlin scolded, yanking the blankets away from the bed. "You're not allowed to go back to sleep until you say goodbye to me properly!"
"Goodbye," Arthur muttered into his pillow. "Now give me back my blankets."
"Oh, goodbye Merlin, love of my life, how will I ever survive without you here for months?" Merlin said to himself, pitched just loud enough for Arthur to hear.
Arthur let out a loud, blatantly fake snore.
Merlin chucked a handheld mirror at him, barely missing his head. A shame.
"The bloody hell was that?" Arthur asked, dragging himself into a sitting position.
"That, as you so eloquently put it, is how you're going to contact me to complain about how much you miss me every day," Merlin claimed.
"Yeah. Totally," Arthur laughed, picking the mirror up and flipping it in his hands. "How does it work?"
"Just—oh, that's actually a good question. I don't know, just... think about talking to me while holding it?"
"Of course you don't know how your own magical artifact works," Arthur scoffed fondly. "Stay safe, or whatever."
"You, too," Merlin said, hefting his trunk and teleporting out of their home after giving Arthur a quick peck on the cheek.
When he got to Diagon Alley, he headed straight to Gringotts. A few of the goblins' eyes followed him as he walked to the desk, but none of the witches or wizards noticed him.
(Honestly, they were closer to being a witch-wizard hybrid than being separately witches and wizards, but none of them seemed to know the difference between the two other than a garbled misconception that gender dictated which one a person was. Words were what were made them, but it was irritating to have to keep up with all of this sexist differentiation on top of constantly changing languages—using 'you' to refer to one person of any social standing was weird, but at least it somewhat lessened class differences.)
It took them ages to get down to his vault since it was one of the first ten to be created, but Merlin hadn't been there in… oh, decades—at least—and didn't find himself getting too bored.
He pressed his hand against the door of the vault and let his magic seep through the cracks scattered throughout until the door unlocked. He grabbed a few handfuls of his money and put them in a small pouch that he had, then picked up a 30cm long stick.
It wasn't a wand by any means—traditional "wands" didn't do anything other than limit his magic—but it still helped him perform spells in a way as to not raise suspicion. His eyes didn't glow golden, and, of course, it was difficult for "wizards" to do magic without a wand.
He tried to convince himself that it wasn't irritating to carry around a useless—though pretty—twig everywhere he went. He wasn't sure he was successful.
The goblin closed the door, then they were headed back up to the surface. Merlin had to bite his tongue when they rode past the dragon, who was in so much pain that Merlin could feel it.
Pros of being an immortal sorcerer: ???
Cons of being an immortal sorcerer: the Old Religion's rigid insistance that he not directly intervene with ninety-nine percent of happenings.
There hadn't been any "true" dragons in ages—they all had the potential to be, but unless they were named when they hatched, they only had the ability to breathe fire and fly. They couldn't speak and had next to no magic. He could still understand them—to a degree, at least—but others couldn't.
When he returned to the entrance of the bank, he saw a young boy watching him curiously. A huge man—possibly a half-giant—was next to him, talking to a goblin about opening two of the vaults.
He immediately knew that this small child was the chosen one, and felt an urge to go over there and whisk him away from the wizarding world. He almost reminded him of Mordred when he'd been young, before he'd been manipulated into hating Arthur.
Innocent.
He collected a few items that he'd need to teach, then teleported to Hogwarts—apparating was one of the worst things he'd ever experienced and he was in no hurry to do it again—to meet with the headmaster. Teleportation came with the added bonus of not needing to mess with the castle's wards against apparation.
Dumbledore was waiting for him outside of the main entrance, so Merlin strode forward to shake hands with the man.
"You must be Mabon Erwood." Dumbledore said.
"Yes," Merlin replied. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"It is nice to meet you in person, too. Where was it that you said you studied?"
"I was homeschooled," Merlin replied—it was, after all, technically true. Still, it was odd that Dumbledore had forgotten that—it had been a rather irritating bar he had to jump to be hired, after all. "I'm eager to meet the other teachers."
"Yes, they're all looking forward to meeting you, too. Would you like a tour of the castle?"
⚡⚡⚡
Merlin had a whole month to get used to the castle before students started arriving, and he was still confused by its twisting corridors and moving stairs. He desperately wished for a map of the castle. It ought to be easy enough to make one with magic, despite the moving stairways and hidden half-floors. Arthur had suggested he make one, but Merlin figured that if there wasn't one it was for a specific reason, and argued that it would be fun to work out how to navigate the changing halls.
Arthur stared at him through the mirror, unimpressed.
What did that prat know about magic, anyway?
"A considerable amount of the theory behind it," Arthur said, "considering you've been bothering me with it every day for centuries."
Ah. He'd been speaking aloud again.
On the last day before term, Merlin finally organized his lessons for the History of Magic class he'd be teaching. He decided to teach the students about the Old Religion first—it was what he knew best, and the origin of all magic.
(It was surprising how little the wizards knew about the origin of their magic. "Purebloods" seemed to believe that they'd had their variation of magic since the beginning of time. They were apparently less educated than non-magic folk, believing that there were wizards around at the same time as dinosaurs. Had they never heard of evolution?)
It wasn't until his first class with the first years of Gryffindor and Slytherin that he decided to incorporate how classism and racism were wrong (he'd figured that it was a given, but most of the Slytherin kids and several purebloods scattered throughout the class didn't realize this. He couldn't blame them, though, since that was how they were raised. Poor, impressionable children. It made him slightly ill to think about how much hatred they were taught from such a young age.).
"Does anybody know the difference between the Old Religion and modern magic?"
A Gryffindor girl's hand rose into the air and, after making sure that nobody else had their hand raised, Merlin called on her.
"Miss…"
"Granger, sir. The Old Religion was all about balance and is the origin of magic. In many aspects, it is more powerful than modern magic, and you do not need a wand to perform any of its spells. The Old Religion died out shortly after the reign of Arthur Pendragon, although it started dying out under the reign of his father, Uther Pendragon, who persecuted magic users."
"Correct," Merlin smiled. "Five points to Gryffindor." He noticed two boys chatting—one was Harry Potter, and the other was a ginger.
"How does she know this?"
Merlin sighed. "I haven't laid out the rules for this classroom yet, but please do not speak unless I strictly give you permission to do so. I'll let it slide this time, but if anybody does it again, I willdeduct house points."
The ginger boy blushed, and Harry stared pointedly at his feet.
He began his lesson and when he mentioned that he—Merlin, not their professor, 'Mabon'—had been a half-blood, a Slytherin with platinum hair frowned and raised his hand.
"That's ridiculous," he said, without waiting to be called on. "Merlin is one of the greatest wizards alive, there's no way that he was a half-blood."
"First of all, Mr…"
"Malfoy." The blonde replied, as if it was a wonderful thing. The name was vaguely familiar.
"Malfoy, raising your hand does not equate permission to speak. You must wait for me to call on you. Secondly, Merlin was not a wizard. He was a sorcerer. Third, his mother didn't have a drop of magic in her blood. 20 points from Slytherin for racism, and another 5 for talking out of turn."
Malfoy looked furious, and the rest of the Slytherins seemed to be biting their tongues. Whether they wanted to yell at Malfoy or Merlin was beyond him.
"Whether you're born into a family with magical experience or not accounts for nothing. Some people who are "Purebloods", as you call them, have no magic. Some people who are born from muggles have greater potential power than most others. Some people are better at magic due to their wands. Some people are worse due to their wands."
(As most wands were created from different materials and in different ways, they each were better or worse at certain areas of magic. Since some wizards were too poor to get their own wand, they were stuck with a hand-me-down wand that didn't want to work with them. Honestly, why didn't the person handing the wand down allow their child to best them in a duel?)
"Morgana Pendragon—née le Fay—was the last High Priestess of the Old Religion, yet her father was Uther Pendragon, who most certainly did not have magic, and it is unknown whether her mother had magic, though Morgana's half-sister did, so it is somewhat likely. Please leave your bigotry at the door because it has no place here."
After meeting every single person's gaze, Merlin continued with his lesson.
⚡⚡⚡
Merlin was finally on his way back to his chambers when he heard a voice yell, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
Merlin sighed and quickly muttered a few words to turn himself invisible, then ran towards the corridor. He got there in time to see a door close and was about to go over and open it when he heard footsteps.
He didn't trust Filch—he wasn't sure why, but the man gave off bad vibes—so he stayed hidden when he came over and demanded to know where the students had gone.
Merlin waited until Filch had disappeared, then walked over to the door. When he recognized it, he was filled with dread.
He'd helped the headmaster plan the corridor out to help protect… something. He wasn't quite sure what it was, and he wouldn't have helped if it had felt wrong. The magic thrumming under his skin hadn't led him astray before. Well, not since he was a young man who had a vengeful dragon spouting words of uncertain prophecies.
(He'd asked what it was, and it looked like Dumbledore didn't want to answer. He'd been distracted before he'd had a chance, anyway.)
There was an empty room in the corridor waiting for him to add a layer to the defense, but he hadn't thought of what he wanted to put there yet. For now, it just had wards that let him know if someone crossed them.
Regardless, the students shouldn't be in there. He was about to open the door when they stumbled out, terrified, and slammed the door against one of Fluffy's heads.
Merlin stepped in front of them and let his spell fall away. Harry blanched and took a step back towards the door that he'd just walked out of.
"Professor Erwood." He blurted out, then backed up even further until there was seemingly no space between him and the door. A low growl sounded through it and he leapt away as if burnt.
"I hope you've learned your lesson about sneaking around after hours?"
They all nodded frantically and Merlin led them back to the Fat Lady. He was too tired for this.
When he got back to his room—finally—Arthur was asleep, so he wrote him a letter and sent it to their home. It may or may not have been left hovering over Arthur's head to startle him in the morning.
⚡⚡⚡
A few weeks later, he heard a knock at his door roughly ten minutes before his class started, and he hurriedly said goodbye to Arthur and shoved his mirror in a desk drawer.
He opened the door to see Malfoy standing there, wringing his hands.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Merlin asked.
"Draco," he mumbled.
"Sorry?"
"Can you call me Draco from now on, please?"
Merlin was startled by his request, but agreed. "What brings you here early?"
"I just, uh, wanted to ask you more about Merlin. Since you skimmed over the topic of him so quickly."
"Of course," Merlin replied, stifling a laugh—thankfully, he was successful. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything you said about him was true?" At Merlin's nod, he continued. "How—I'm not asking this to be offensive and if it comes off that way, I'm—I'm sorry—how did he learn that much magic if only his father knew magic?"
"He didn't really learn any until he was older," Merlin said, discomfitingly used to disassociating himself from, well, himself. "His father hadn't been able to stay since he was—at the time—the last living dragonlord and Merlin lived along Camelot's borders, so magic was highly discriminated against. It was also instinctual for him—he didn't have magic, he was magic. Ironically enough, his mother sent him to the center of Camelot to learn how to control his magic."
"Besides, magic is innate. Sure, you need to learn it to be good at it, but the amount of magic you have doesn't change unless you find a magical artifact that will increase it."
"Okay. Er, thanks." Draco replied, fidgeting. "What about Morgana, then? From what I know about her, she didn't know she was a wi—sorceress—until much later in her life. How did she learn?"
"Her half sister. As I alluded to during class, Morgause was… a very powerful High Priestess, and she wanted to crush Uther. Morgana was friends with Merlin, but he couldn't do anything to stop Morgause other than poison Morgana. He knew that Morgause would stop the assault to heal her sister, and then Morgana hated him. Morgause manipulated Morgana into turning against her own brother instead of helping him understand that magic wasn't evil."
"How come Merlin stayed by King Arthur's side? If he was the greatest sorcerer to ever live, then he could have been much more powerful than a servant."
"He knew Arthur could change. Sure, he was a bit of a prat when he first met him, but later in life he was a lot more understanding of magic. Unfortunately, class is about to start. Do you need a pass?"
"Oh, yes." Draco said, then added, "Please."
Merlin grabbed a slip of parchment off of his desk, signed a note with a religiously practiced flourish, then handed it to Draco.
⚡⚡⚡
The next time that he taught the first years, Draco participated in class. He'd always gotten near-perfect on his papers, but never put forth any effort to answer his questions.
Ms. Granger seemed shocked by this development, and Mr. Weasley made fun of Draco for knowing the answers. Merlin made sure to deduct 5 points from Gryffindor every time this happened. (He also made sure to deduct 5 points from Slytherin whenever anybody made fun of Mr. Weasley for his financial situation. He assumed this was the cause of Mr. Weasley's bitterness.)
Slowly, Draco made fewer and fewer comments regarding the state of the Weasley family's bank account, and Mr. Weasley made fewer jokes about Draco. All in all, Merlin considered it a success. Most of the other students hadn't changed their views at all and Draco still had a long way to go, but that was only to be expected. His plan was working, though.
⚡⚡⚡
Merlin had just sat down when Quirrell ran into the Great Hall, turban askew, looking terrified.
"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know," was all that he said before passing out.
"I thought his specialty was in trolls?" Merlin muttered to himself. Sure, the man had a stutter and was seemingly terrified of everything, but he worked with trolls all the time. How could he be terrified of them?
"I'll watch over him," Merlin offered to Dumbledore while the teachers came up with a plan to stop the troll. The headmaster nodded absently and met Snape's gaze, then led the rest of the teachers out of the hall.
Merlin walked down to where Quirrell was laying and turned himself invisible. The man opened his eyes as soon as the rest of the professors' footsteps faded away, brushed off his robes, and walked out the entrance to the Great Hall. He didn't have even the slightest tremor.
Merlin followed behind him silently as he climbed up several flights of stairs. He realized that they were headed to the Charms Corridor and dread filled his chest. Why had he gone here of all places?
Snape was standing next to the door and Quirrell's face filled with rage before it was plastered over with something much more diplomatic. He didn't stop walking or even slow; he barely acknowledged Snape at all. Merlin followed him until they made their way to where the rest of the teachers were—standing outside of a girl's bathroom with McGonagall scolding Hermione Granger.
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter looked astounded at the fact that Ms. Granger was standing up for them, and Merlin glanced at Quirrell and Snape, who had followed them downstairs. They were paying hardly any attention to McGonagall—Snape looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, and Quirrell looked quite terrified again, glancing at the fallen troll every few seconds in an over-dramatic show.
Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
⚡⚡⚡
The few times that Merlin saw Mr. Potter before Quidditch began, he was a nervous wreck—hardly able to pay attention in class, barely noticing Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger trying to talk to him.
One time, he'd been headed to the staffroom and seen Mr. Potter sprinting from it, only to see Snape and Filch harshly whispering to each other inside. Running from conflict between two authority figures—especially those who were generally perceived as cruel—was fair, especially when already anxious.
On the day of the Quidditch match, Merlin had grabbed a pair of binoculars that he'd bought when he was in Diagon Alley. He'd never seen a Quidditch game before, and figured that it ought to be interesting.
He glanced towards the area where Gryffindor was seated and saw a huge banner. It read "Potter for President" and had a gorgeous lion on it. It flashed different colors, which Merlin thought was a pretty clever trick considering the age of the students holding the banner.
When Mr. Jordan started his commentary on the match, Merlin had to cover his laugh. Every time something good happened to Gryffindor, he'd get excited, but if something happened to Slytherin he'd say it with no enthusiasm.
Mr. Flint fouled Mr. Potter when he was chasing after the snitch, so Gryffindor got a free shot.
Mr. Jordan was becoming even more biased in his commentary.
Then, Mr. Potter's broomstick started jerking around in the air. Well, started wasn't really the right word—Merlin only noticed after everybody else had started pointing up at him in shock.
He noticed Snape a few seats to his left, muttering a countercurse in an attempt to help Mr. Potter regain control of his broomstick. It wasn't doing much, but it was definitely the only thing keeping him on his broom.
Merlin reached out with his magic and froze the broom where it was. Mr. Potter managed to pull himself back up and everybody sighed in relief. Merlin skimmed the crowd, looking for the source of the curse. It had to be a teacher—almost nobody could get past the wards into Hogwarts and the students couldn't have known how to perform magic dark enough to affect a broom.
Merlin skimmed the rows beneath him but didn't notice anything abnormal—unless you counted Quirrell, who had fallen over in panic. He carefully released his spell, and Mr. Potter was able to have control over his broom again.
Less than a minute later, the match had ended—Mr. Potter had somehow caught the snitch in his mouth.
Merlin had been making his way over to Mr. Potter to make sure that he was okay—mental health was just as important as physical—when he overheard their conversation.
"It was Snape. Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you." Mr. Weasley explained, incorrectly.
"Rubbish. Why would Snape do something like that?" This was Hagrid.
"He wouldn't." Merlin cut in. The three children whirled around to face him. "I heard him; he was performing a countercurse. I'm not quite sure who did that to your broom—it had to be a teacher, though nobody next to me was performing magic—but it wasn't him."
"Why would he do that?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Harry saw him the other—"
"Ron," Ms. Granger whispered, cutting him off.
"He hates Harry. There's no way he'd protect him."
"Well, he was. I was right there, next to him. Besides, his feelings shouldn't change the fact that he has a responsibility to protect students." Merlin said. "Are you feeling okay, Mr. Potter? Not nauseated, feeling cold chills, anything like that?"
"Yes, I'm alright; thank you, Professor Erwood."
Merlin turned and was almost out of earshot when he heard them whisper, "Maybe he was helping Snape."
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
⚡⚡⚡
The last class before Christmas break, Merlin decided to have an easy-going class where they played a trivia game.
The winners—people who scored one of the three highest scores—would get the points that they'd won added to their House.
Most of the questions were things he'd gone over in class— Who was the last High Priestess of the Old Religion? What is another, less common name for modern magic?— but some of them were things he hadn't talked about yet, and may not even cover at all— What was Merlin's father's name?
It was set up so that each person had a scrap of parchment paper and a certain amount of time to answer between four multiple choice questions. Points were rewarded based on speed and accuracy with a slight adjustment for those he'd noticed having memory or attention issues.
Ms. Granger got 1st, Draco got 2nd, and Ms. Bulstrode got 3rd—however, she was beaten by quite a lot.
When the students left, Draco was the only one who asked him to enjoy his holidays.
After he closed the door behind the last of the students, he pulled his mirror out of his desk and muttered a spell. When he immediately saw Arthur's face on the other side, he brightened up immediately.
After exchanging greetings and 'I-miss-you's, Merlin explained the whole thing that had happened at the Quidditch match. They'd both been quite busy—Merlin hadn't wanted to give his students homework over break, so he had to deal with grading a lot of essays the last few days—and hadn't had a chance to talk since before the game.
"It had to be a teacher." Merlin repeated. "There's no student in this school adept enough at curses—I would hope, at least—to cause a broom to act up like that.
"I still don't know that much about magic," Arthur confessed. "But I'm sure you're right. Is there anybody you can cross off of your list? Wait—what if you actually made a list of all of the teachers in the school and then treated it like a logic puzzle? Who was at the game, who wasn't."
"That's brilliant." Merlin replied, then swept most of the papers on his desk to the side. He ignored the mess that was now scattered across the floor. He pulled out a piece of parchment and made a list of all of the teachers names. "Okay, so Dumbledore wasn't at the match."
He created a column labeled "absent from the match" and put an X next to his name, as well as a few other teachers.
"I know that it wasn't Snape because he'd been performing a countercurse, and the teachers that I was next to weren't doing any magic."
"Oh!" Merlin exclaimed. "I forgot to tell you, but I overheard Harry and his friends wondering who could have done it. I told them that it wasn't Snape and when I walked away they assumed that I had done it, or at least helped Snape in his efforts."
"That's—you?" Arthur laughed. "Of all people, they assumed that youwere trying to murder an innocent boy? We've both done things in the past, but you wouldn't kill somebody who hasn't or won't do anything wrong."
"It's absurd," Merlin agreed.
⚡⚡⚡
Merlin didn't quite understand why he, as a teacher, had to stay at Hogwarts over break. He wasn't teaching class and wasn't the head of any of the Houses.
However, staying gave him a chance to read some of the books that were in the library—there were more books than he'd ever seen in one place. He'd read a good percentage of the books, but there were a few he'd only ever heard of and hadn't been able to get his hands on.
He'd just walked into a new section when he saw a small book that caught his eye. He picked it up gently and was just about to open it when a piercing, blood-curdling shriek split the silence.
Merlin's eyes flashed and he turned invisible before dashing over to the source of the noise, tucking the book under his arm. A lamp knocked itself over and went out, but nothing else moved in the aisle.
Footsteps pounded through the library and Merlin ducked into the next aisle. Even though he was invisible, it wouldn't do him any good for somebody to run into him. Unfortunately, touch was a sense that he had not yet figured out how to deceive.
Something slammed into him nonetheless and he grabbed onto it, finding purchase when his hands wrapped around somebody's arm. The person struggled against him until Filch walked over, breathing heavily. He squinted around the dark aisle, picked up the lamp laying on the ground, and stomped away.
Merlin reached out with his free hand and felt a cloak—an invisibility cloak! he'd never seen one of these in person—and lifted it over the person's head.
Dropping his spell, he said, "Why am I not surprised?" to himself. "What do you think that you're doing?"
"Professor Erwood—" Harry started. "I wasn't—this isn't—"
When Merlin just raised his eyebrow, waiting for a semi-decent excuse, Harry sighed.
"I was… looking for a book."
Merlin studied him, then sighed. "Come with me."
He didn't let go of Harry's arm, but he did throw the hood back over his head and turn himself invisible again. When they got to Merlin's classroom, he closed the door behind them and gestured towards a seat. He sat on top of his desk.
"Er… Professor?" Harry asked, taking the hood off of his head.
"Yes?"
"What are we doing?"
"I'm waiting for you to explain yourself. It's near 11. You were in the restricted section of the library."
"I was… looking for information."
"On? The restricted section is almost entirely dark magic."
"Er, well, the person that I was looking for information on wasn't mentioned in any of the other books."
"And this person is…?"
"Er, well, you see…" Harry started. "Okay, I was looking for information on Nicholas Flamel because Hagrid slipped up and mentioned that he was connected to whatever they're hiding and—"
Merlin sighed. It would probably be better to just tell him so that he didn't get into more trouble looking for answers. "What do you want to know?"
"What do you know?" Harry asked.
"May I remind you that I am your history professor," Merlin said dryly.
"Oh. Right." Harry mumbled, valiantly fighting against a rising blush. "Who was he? What is he hiding? Why is there so much protection surrounding it?"
"Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist and he created the Philosopher's Stone—wait." Merlin flipped through a couple essays that were on his desk, searching for the scrap of paper that he'd made up with Arthur.
With a flick of his "wand", he duplicated it so that any edits on one would edit the other, then handed one of them to Harry.
"I was trying to figure out who tried to kill you, and this is what I have so far. I know I promised answers, but I need to do something, so did you have any more quick questions? You can ask others at another time if you would like."
"Er, yes. What is the Philosopher's Stone? And how did you turn yourself invisible?"
"I'm pretty sure that it's in one of the books in the regular part of the library, and it's an older spell. Sorry again, if you ever need anything you can ask me, but I really do have to do something and you ought to go to sleep. Good night!"
Merlin hopped off of his desk and opened the door, then let Harry out and closed it behind himself. "If I hear that you've been sneaking around at night, I won't be happy." He turned himself invisible and found his way back to his room.
He pulled his mirror out of his pocket and whispered a few words. It let off a faint golden light for a few minutes, then Arthur's face popped up on the other side.
"Merlin, it's past 1 in the morning! What are you doing awake? And why did you have to wake me up?"
"I was in the library and—" Merlin broke off and patted his pockets frantically, then swore quietly. "I found something that I wanted to show you, but I misplaced it. I'll tell you later. The important part is that I was in the library and I heard one of the books in the restricted section open—"
"You heard a book open? What does that mean?"
"Oh, the books in the restricted section scream if you open them without permission from the librarian."
"They scream—know what? I don't need to know this. Who opened it?"
"Harry Potter." Merlin said, face grim. "He was apparently looking for information on Nicholas Flamel. He managed to trick Hagrid—the Keeper of Keys—into telling him that the thing that Dumbledore is hiding behind that one door I told you about had to do with Nicholas Flamel."
"What could he be hiding that requires that level of security? The only thing I can think of is the Philosopher's Stone, but that would be ridiculous—there's no reason to take it away from Flamel, right?"
There was a moment of silence.
"I think that's what it is. I don't know what he's doing with it, especially with magic as unbalanced as it is right now…"
"What if that's why? If Harry Potter truly is the chosen one, then maybe Voldemort is coming back… I'm not sure why Dumbledore would move the stone, though—especially closer to where Harry is. That's just asking for trouble."
"What if that's what he's doing? What if he's trying to prepare Harry for Voldemort?"
"That's ridiculous! He'd be manipulating a child. You have to be wrong. You haveto be."
Merlin shrugged half-heartedly.
Arthur's face was grim. "I think… I think that there was a reason why you went to Hogwarts. And it wasn't just so that you'd know what's going on when Voldemort returns."
⚡⚡⚡
Merlin was in the library searching for the book he'd found previously when he overheard Harry say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"
Hagrid's response of, "Jus' lookin'' made Merlin suspicious, so he turned invisible and darted over to watch their exchange. He noticed a book in Hagrid's hands, but couldn't see the title.
Hagrid walked away and Merlin was about to follow him when Ron walked over to the section that Hagrid had been looking at and whispered, "Dragons!", which caught his attention quite quickly.
An hour later, he found himself hiding outside of Hagrid's hut, waiting for the young Gryffindors to appear. When they knocked on the door, Hagrid asked who they were and quickly let them in. Merlin almost didn't make it inside before the door was shut again.
When Harry asked what was protecting the Philosopher's Stone, Merlin frowned. He'd told Harry to stop getting himself in trouble, and here he was, falling into Dumbledore's trap.
When Hagrid told them that he didn't know what else was protecting the stone, Merlin could have sighed in relief.
Ms. Granger somehow managed to flatter him into telling them who else had helped protect the stone. Merlin wanted to scream.
"Well, I don't s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let's see…" Yes, it very much could hurt to tell them that. "He borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout—Professor Flitwick—Professor McGonagall—Professor Quirrell—an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten two o' 'em. Oh yeah, Professors Snape and Erwood."
How scandalized Harry was to hear that Snape had helped him made Merlin want to facepalm.
Harry asked if they could open a window and it was only then that Merlin noticed the burning fire—and what was in it. A dragon egg.
⚡⚡⚡
"A dragon egg?" Arthur asked. "Isn't it illegal for wizards to breed dragons nowadays? Since… 1700, something?"
"Yes," Merlin replied. "I might be able to persuade him to give them to me. It'll take a while, but he does live in a wooden house. I'm just worried that the Ministry will take them away and hurt them, or something."
"That's good," Arthur replied. "That you might be able to get the dragon. Not that the dragon might be killed. That would be horrible, and it'd be even worse if they punished Hagrid on top of that when he's trying his hardest to take care of all of those creatures."
"Yeah," Merlin sighed, heading towards his wardrobe. I have to go, but I'll talk to you later?"
"Okay. Don't be gone too long, Merlin."
Merlin half-smiled, then disconnected the call and ran down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
He was pushing his eggs around his plate when he saw Harry's owl, Hedwig, fly over to him and drop off a scrap of paper. He watched Ron light up in excitement and Hermione scold him. Suddenly, they stopped talking and glanced at Draco, who was standing a few feet away. Interesting.
Throughout his entire lesson right after breakfast, Merlin paced across the classroom. When the bell sounded, he all but kicked his class out and sprinted across the grounds, invisible. He arrived at Hagrid's hut at the same time as the three students, and quickly ducked inside. Perhaps he should just turn into a butterfly to make it easier to get inside. Hindsight was 20/20, and all that.
The egg had deep cracks and Merlin could hear the baby dragon trying to speak. When she managed to get out of the egg, she flopped onto the table and Merlin resisted the urge to coo.
Hagrid reached out a hand to pet her and when she snapped at him, he said, "Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!"
Every second that passed had Merlin silently screaming, Name her, name her, name her,louder and louder in his head.
He must have unconsciously performed magic, because Hagrid said, "I've decided to call him Norbert," then paled and rushed towards the window.
Merlin peaked out through a gap between the curtains and saw the unmistakable figure of Draco running back to the castle. He bit his lip so that he wouldn't curse and give away the fact that, hey, there was another person who wasn't supposed to be there.
⚡⚡⚡
During the next week, Merlin snuck over to Hagrid's hut to check on Norbert. She'd grown three times her length, and Merlin was anxious that she wouldn't have enough room to grow. Eventually, he decided to talk to Hagrid.
Merlin stood awkwardly at Hagrid's door, wondering what he was going to say—Hey, Hagrid, I know that it's illegal for you to have her, and it's just as illegal for me to have her, but can I have your dragon? It's my duty as the last dragonlord to make sure that she grows up okay, and she doesn't have enough room in your hut, or in my chambers in the castle, but I have a large plot of land at home where she can grow up freely in comfort.
He had no idea what to say, and when Hagrid answered the door, he stumbled over his words. "May I, er, may I come in?"
"It's really not the bes' time," Hagrid replied, and tried to close the door.
"Wait!" Merlin yelped, putting his foot in the path of the door. "I know about Norbert."
Hagrid froze, and Merlin saw fear etched in his face.
"That's not a threat—may I come in?"
Hagrid let the door open a bit and shuffled inside. Merlin followed him.
"How'd you find out about Norbert?" Hagrid asked.
"Er, I—wow, she's really quite lovely. May I?" Merlin stretched his arm out to brush his fingers across her head. She nuzzled into him, and Hagrid watched, fascinated.
"She's quite large," he said, gesturing at the table that she more than encompassed. "How are you planning on handling her once she's larger? You are aware of how large Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, yes?"
"I—I'm no' sure. I can't jus' abandon him."
"I'll take her," Merlin supplied smoothly. "I know a thing or two about dragons." Norbert had nearly draped herself across him at this point, although Hagrid appeared reluctant to hand her off to somebody he barely knew.
"Besides, Draco will never suspect that I have her." Not that he was likely to report this, but a little white lie did no harm.
"But where would yeh keep her? Yeh stay inside o' Hogwarts, don't yeh?"
"I do, but trust me, I've room for her here, at least until I can head home again, where she'll have much more space." And he did—he still had to come up with a better way to protect the Philosopher's Stone, and the room he had available there was quite large. He'd be able to slip away every night to check on her. And perhaps sleep next to her so that she wasn't lonely.
Hagrid finally agreed after an hour or two of them negotiating and Norbert falling asleep with her head resting against Merlin.
⚡⚡⚡
When the first years cheered at the end of their test, Merlin couldn't help but feel a bit offended. He'd tried to incorporate the more fun facts and most of the students enjoyed his class in general. He supposed it was because it was their last exam, but he'd tried to give them a break.
Merlin was walking through the hallway on a particularly nice day later that week when he overheard a loud thump. He turned himself invisible and snuck over to the corridor that the noise had come from.
Harry Potter was panicking, trying to persuade McGonagall that he had to speak to Dumbledore.
"I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine." She finished, and Harry huffed and turned away.
Hermione pulled both Harry and Ron into an empty classroom and Merlin chased after them.
"It's tonight; Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."
"Perhaps they will," Merlin said, letting his glamour fall. "But I can assure you, nobody is getting to that stone—especially not Snape, as he doesn't want it."
They whirled around to face him, blanching. "Professor Erwood—"
"Besides, anybody who decides to attempt to break in will find themselves a nasty shock when they find a dragon that wasn't originally there."
"A dragon? But where would you find a—Norbert? How did you get your hands on it?"
"I 'got my hands on her' by explaining to Hagrid that somebody who's worked with dragons would be a much better fit. And I thought I told you no more sneaking around, Mr. Potter."
"Er, I'm not. We're just trying to let Dumbledore know that Sn—somebody—is going to try to steal the Philosopher's Stone tonight."
"If it means that much to you, I'll go stand guard."
"What could you do to stop him?"
"Much more than three first years." Merlin's voice was cold. "I don't want you to get yourself into trouble. Especially you."
Harry bristled. "What does thatmean—"
"Harry," Hermione cut in. "Professor Erwood's got a point." She glanced over at him, flushing with guilt when she met his eyes. "You shouldn't be risking your life over something that may or may not be true—and besides, Snape did try to save your life during the Quidditch match—I was wrong."
"Fine." Harry stormed out of the room, Ron close on his heels.
"Sorry, Professor." Hermione mumbled, then turned to follow them. Merlin wasn't terribly certain that she'd meant what she said, though.
⚡⚡⚡
When Dumbledore returned, he called a teacher's meeting. It was so late that half of them arrived in their pyjamas. Merlin had been dressed because he'd heard Norbert calling him away from packing his bags—she'd heard a noise in one of the earlier rooms—so he was headed down to check on the stone.
Everybody showed up except for Quirrell.
"I was called away to meet the Minister today, but when I arrived, he said that he hasn't had a meeting planned with me. I'm afraid that this means that somebody pulled me away from the school to attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone that's hidden within the restricted area of the third floor corridor."
Several of the teachers gasped, but others didn't seem too shocked—horrified, yes, but not surprised in the slightest.
"I'm afraid that Professor Quirrell—unless he shows up soon—may have betrayed us. I set a silent alarm on the lock of the door so that I would know when it was opened, and so far it's gone off on three occasions—when a few students stumbled into it in an attempt to hide from Flich, on Halloween, with my permission to check up on it," Dumbledore met Snape's eyes. "And today, while I was at the Ministry."
Dumbledore started drifting in the direction of the third floor corridor, and the rest of the teachers followed like they were polar opposites on a magnet.
"I don't believe that we should go inside just yet, but we ought to stand guard in the event of him somehow managing to get his hand on the stone."
So they waited.
It didn't take long before Norbert told Merlin with a laugh, The coward is returning, tail tucked between his legs. He had to squash the urge to smile at her description of him.
Merlin could hear two voices on the other side of the door. One was Quirrell's, and the other seemed to be threatening him for his cowardice. He entered the hall, and Dumbledore turned the lights on.
Quirrell paled considerably, and looked like he was trying to come up with an excuse.
"Quirinus, explain yourself." Dumbledore demanded. Quirrell made eye contact with Snape, then attempted to bolt down the corridor.
McGonagall made a gesture with her wand and he fell to the ground, paralyzed. What a wonderful woman.
"Thank you, Minerva." Dumbledore murmured, walking over to Quirrell. "You may all go to sleep, now."
Merlin was one of the last to leave and had been about to turn himself invisible to watch whatever Dumbledore had planned when he yawned and realized how tired he was. If worst came to worst, Norbert was still protecting the stone.
⚡⚡⚡
The next night was the last day of the school year, and Merlin was aching to go home. He shoved the rest of his stuff in his trunk after getting changed, then hurried down to the Great Hall for the feast.
The hall was decked out in green and silver, as Slytherin had won the house cup—only by four points, as Ravenclaw had a total of four hundred and twenty-six.
Only a few students were in the hall already, and there wasn't much reason for them to have come down—there wasn't any food yet, and hardly any mail came on the last day. A couple of students—two or three, max—had mugs full of either coffee or tea to wake themselves up. One or more of the teachers had alcohol mixed into their drinks.
Once more students made their way down, Dumbledore made a speech congratulating Slytherin on their winning the House Cup, and the feast began. Merlin had a curry that was quite excellent.
After the feast, Merlin went back to his chambers and fell asleep immediately.
⚡⚡⚡
When Merlin finally got back home the next day—after saying goodbye to every single teacher and many of his students—Arthur was waiting outside.
Merlin tore himself away from Norbert's side to throw his arms around his husband. He couldn'twait to do this again next year.