Chapter One

Mr and Mrs King, of number six, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Cenred King was not a very pleasant man, and his wife Morgause was even worse. They were not the sort of people you would entrust with taking care of a child, and yet they had one. Well, two, technically, but they hardly counted Merlin as their child. No, they had their precious Mordred to dote on; Merlin was more like the help. And had been treated as such since he was of an age where he was able to fetch and carry.

You see, Merlin was not their son. No, he was the son of Cenred's older brother, Balinor, and his whore wife. Freaks, the pair of them, according to Cenred, just like the rest of his family. And they had both died and that pointless war, just like the rest of his family, leaving him to care for some snotty-nosed child instead of focusing all of his attention on his beloved Mordred.

Cenred was born a squib into a wizard family, and while his brother, the golden son, had gone off to some magic school, he had gone to high school. He had been normal, and he was very proud of that fact. So the second he turned eighteen he left that freak show and took his muggle mother's maiden name, determined to make a life for himself outside of the madness that was his family.

That had been the plan, and it had been going exceptionally well, until his brother had up and died and left him with that brat.

Cenred had known from the moment he'd laid eyes on the boy, three years old with those giant ears and watery eyes, that he would be just like his father. Magical. And a plague to him and his family. He didn't want his wonderful wife and his darling boy to be corrupted by the likes of that. No, but the woman had insisted . . .

"You're the only family the child has left," she said to him firmly, "sending a child like him into the care system is a recipe for disaster, you must take him in." She had her hair tied in a strict bun and a look on her face that said she wasn't used to being told no. She pushed her glasses up her nose and her lips thinned when he remained silent. "Mr Emrys -"

"King." He had corrected quickly with a snarl. "Mr King."

She sighed exasperatedly at him but complied anyway. "Mr King, the boy is your nephew; he has no one else left in the world that might care for him. Please, consider this."

He looked down at the boy in question, who had been staring at the two adults arguing with wide, watery, blue eyes. He had a look of confusion on his face, like he didn't understand why his parents had gone, or why the woman was trying to leave him with a man who clearly didn't want him. He looked scared, terrified really, and that was what sealed the deal in Cenred's mind.

This was his chance. His chance to pay back his brother and father for always making his feel like the outsider. He'd take in the brat and he'd teach him what it meant to live on the outside. He would make the boy regret the day he ever saw Cenred's face.

Cenred had smiled viciously and accepted the boy. The woman seemed satisfied and the boy seemed scared. Good, he had thought savagely.

A part of Cenred regretted his decision, while yes, it was fun making his brother's brat squirm, the magic was becoming a real nuisance. He had wanted magic out of his life for good, and in one revenge-driven moment he had forgotten that fact in favour of punishing his dead brother.

So when the letter came he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or furious.

Yes, Mr and Mrs King, of number six, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Their nephew, however . . . not so much.

Merlin had composed himself a few rules throughout his life. They had developed slowly over the years and they varied in importance. But all of them were key to his life with his uncle, aunt and cousin.

Number one: don't rise to Mordred's bait. This probably was the most important rule he had. It was also one of the first rules he learnt. His cousin was three years younger than him, but that didn't stop him from being a bully. Oh no, Mordred was just as skinny and awkward as Merlin was, it wasn't like he was tougher or anything like that, but it was his house and his family, so Merlin was the weaker one in every situation. That meant that when Mordred said something that might rile Merlin up, he wasn't to react to it. It would only end in disaster.

The first time Merlin recalled when he should've used his rule was when he was seven years old. They were supposed to be going out to have a family dinner. So Morgause had worn a nice dress and her golden hair was done up in a classy way. Cenred was in a suit and Mordred had some new clothes that his mother had bought him earlier that week for the occasion. Merlin had been excited to go, usually they didn't like to take him places, but Mordred had said to him it was a family dinner, of course he was going. So Merlin had worn his nicest clothes (they really weren't that nice) and bounded down the stairs with a beaming grin on his face. Morgause had laughed when he told her that he thought he was going with them. Mordred had then said, in front of them all, "It's a family dinner, Merlin, of course you aren't coming." Merlin had cried and wailed until the lights in the house started flickering. The result of Merlin's mistake led on to the making of his second rule.

Number two: always duck. Now this rule didn't have 100% efficiency. Sometimes it wasn't an arm swinging at him that he could duck under, but a foot instead, nonetheless it worked in most cases.

Merlin had always been a clumsy person. He dropped, spilt and broke a lot of things. None of it was ever on purpose but it always came with repercussions. If it was in front of Morgause it was more likely to be a slap across his cheek for whatever he did wrong. If it was Cenred then he would use whatever body part closest to Merlin, whether that be a fist to the stomach, and elbow to the ribs or a kick up the backside. Merlin tried to duck or dodge when he could, but his fighting reflexes were never any good. The only time Merlin would abandon is second rule was if Cenred was drunk. He had learned that in that case it was better to just curl up and take it, dodging only made him angrier.

Number three: always apologise. This was another important rule. If rule number three worked then it could sometimes negate the necessity of rule number two. Anything that makes anyone look angry, apologise for it, even if you aren't sure what you did wrong. It didn't always work for Merlin but it had enough of a success rate to be worth making it to the list of rules.

Number four: don't get caught talking to Harry. Merlin wasn't really sure why this needed to be a rule. He had no idea why Cenred and Mr Dursley both hated the idea of them talking to each other but they did.

Harry was two years younger than Merlin but they were very similar. Both of them were orphans dumped onto abusive relatives. But Merlin, at least, had some memory of his Mum and Dad, Harry wasn't as lucky. From what Merlin could tell, Harry wasn't physically hurt by his uncle and aunt, but there were bullies at school who were mean to him. They went to the same school, but neither could look to the other as a friend there, they both knew that their cousins could report back to their homes and they would both be landed in trouble. Merlin hated that the one boy who might understand him was kept away from him, but he rarely had the courage to go against his uncle's rule and talk to Harry. They were almost always caught. And afterwards his uncle may as well have been drunk by the way he acted towards Merlin.

There were many more rules, but those were the most important four, those were the ones that kept Merlin relatively unharmed from day to day.

And so, when a new day began, he had all of his rules in his head, ready to put into practice should the need arise. And of course it did. It always did.

He was just bringing Cenred his beer in the early afternoon, nothing unusual. Except that there was a bright, white snowy owl sat on their fence outside. Merlin was foolish and easily distracted, so upon seeing this owl he stopped looking where he was walking, and walked straight into Cenred's back, sloshing beer over both of them. Merlin realised his mistake right away.

"I'm sorry!" he cried instantly (rule no. three). He ran to get a cloth to mop up the mess on the floor, immediately forgetting about the spillage on his own clothes. "I'll clean it up right away," he would have tried to mop up Cenred too if it wasn't for another one of his rules that he'd learnt the hard way, never touch Cenred (rule no. fourteen). "I'll clean it all, I'm sor-"

This was when Cenred kicked Merlin in the ribs, as he was crouched over, trying to clean. He grunted at the pain but knew better than to complain (rule no. nine). "Useless boy," Cenred muttered, as he aimed another harsh kick to the stomach. Merlin cried out at that one, but he made sure no words were spoken other than a litany of 'I'm sorry's.

"Really, Merlin, can't you do anything?" Mordred goaded. Merlin took a deep breath before remaining quiet and carrying on with his task. The deep breath was both to help him ignore Mordred (rule no. one) and help him breathe through the pain in his chest and stomach.

Some eleventh birthday, Merlin thought, bitterly. He didn't know why he'd expected any differently. And besides, any attention he would get from his 'family' for his birthday wouldn't be positive attention. It was better for the day to be ignored and treated like any other; it was hardly like anything important would happen today.

"Finish cleaning this up and then go get the post," Cenred ordered. "See if you can manage that, at least, without making a mess of everything." Mordred snorted and Morgause smirked at his expense as Cenred left to change out of his ruined clothes.

He went to the front door to collect the small gathering of letters that were there, ignoring his own beer stained clothes. When he looked back up to see the pretty owl again, it had already flown off. It looked like the usual set of bills, all in plain white envelopes, all addressed to Cenred, all except one. It was heavier than the others, and a brownish-yellow colour, rather than white. The most shocking thing, however, was that it was addressed to him.

Mr M. Emrys,

The attic bedroom,

6, Privet Drive,

Little Whinging,

Surrey.

How on earth did the sender know which bedroom he used? When he turned the letter over there was an insignia of a lion, snake, an eagle and a badger all surrounding the letter 'H', and a name, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Finally it was topped off with a red wax seal of the same letter 'H'.

He moved slowly back into the living room, careful to watch where he was going, but still mesmerised by his very first letter.

It was finally happening! He was finally going to go away and learn magic! Just like his parents had done! Merlin had very few memories before the night his parents died, but almost all of them involved two kind looking people talking or laughing with him and waving around sticks. Eventually Merlin had done enough accidental magic to realise what it all was, and that his parents must have had wands. He couldn't wait to get his own and start learning properly. This was it! It was time!

That was why when he walked into the living room it was with a beaming smile on his face, all eyes turned to him. Mordred and Morgause looked uneasily at each other, wondering what could have caused such happiness in the boy whose life the tried there hardest to make miserable. Cenred, however, knew exactly what was going on. He had seen that envelop before, and, at one delusional point in his life, even wished for it. Merlin was going to Hogwarts. He would finally be rid of the brat for most of the year.

"Off to your magic school then?" Cenred asked casually, pulling a jumper over his head.

Merlin jumped at the voice, off in a world of his own, he'd forgotten where he was. The bright smile that had been on his face melted off entirely. He knew his uncle hated his magic, so how on earth could he sound so calm about Merlin's acceptance letter? Merlin swallowed nervously and answered, "Yes, sir."

Cenred grunted and nodded. "So when are they showing up to take you for your supplies, 'cause none of us can or will?"

Merlin still had wide frightened eyes. He was waiting for the penny to drop, to be told he wasn't allowed to go or that now once he started school he wasn't even welcome in the summer. He wasn't expecting genuine questions. "I- I um, I don't know, sir," he responded quietly, "I haven't opened it yet." Cenred glowered at him, "Sir!" he added hastily. "I haven't opened it yet, sir."

He nodded stiffly, "Well then," he said stoically, "tell us before one of those freaks actually show up, I don't want to be caught unawares."

"Yes, sir," Merlin whispered quietly before he turned and walked upstairs to his room, he knew a dismissal when he heard one.

As he ascended to the attic his mind ran over the conversation that just happened. That was not at all the reaction he had been expecting. For the first time he could remember, Cenred had been calm and reasonable in the face of magic. It was almost unthinkable. Even from the attic he could now hear Cenred's low tone arguing with Morgause's shrill one. It was rare to even hear them argue; usually they were both as bad as each other, so no argument needed. But now, it almost seemed as though Cenred was fighting his corner. How bizarre. If that was happening then magic really must exist.

And speaking of magic, Merlin finally opened his letter.

He was terrified. One of the Hogwarts professors was going to show up any minute and Cenred was already in a bad mood. After Merlin had told him what day the professor was supposed to arrive his mood just steadily got worse and worse throughout the week. Now they were coming and he didn't know what to do.

"What do you think you're doing, waiting by the door?" Cenred snapped at him. Had he forgotten? Oh no, if he had forgotten then his reaction was just going to be ten times worse than Merlin had prepared himself for.

"Th- the professor's supposed t- to arrive soon," he stuttered nervously.

"Right," he said simply, with narrowed eyes. He turned around and walked into the living room, ignoring Merlin for now.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. When it came to magic, Cenred was usually irrational and angry with even the slightest mention, this sudden flip in behaviour, from madness to indifference, was really confusing him. Merlin wasn't sure whether to be grateful or on edge; as if this was the build up to the big explosion.

There was no point trying to figure out what was going on in Cenred's brain, Merlin had been trying for years with absolutely no success. Just when he thought he knew how vile and vicious his uncle really was, something would happen to surprise him (however in most cases they were rarely good surprises, which was what made this particular case so odd).

That was when the knock came.

Merlin jumped up so fast that one would think he had been kicked up the backside. He hadn't (for a change). He just stood there staring in shock at the door for a few moments - this was it, he was finally going to meet someone else who had magic, for the first time since he was left with his uncle, it's not as if there was anyone else in Little Whinging who could ever have magic, and he couldn't wait - and then realised it would probably be polite to actually answer the door instead of staring at as if it would open by magic (he couldn't wait until he could actually do that with magic!).

Standing in the doorway was a tall woman with greying hair tied back into an elegant bun. She had a very stiff posture and had her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She had on square glasses and weird-looking, green sort of dress (robes maybe?). Either way, it was obvious that she was a strict woman and not someone to be trifled with.

"Hello," he said timidly.

What had been a blank expression lifted into a kind smile as she said, "Hello, Mr Emrys, I presume?" The smile complete changed her appearance. As before she looked like a stern professor, she then changed into a caring mother-figure. Just from a smile.

"Y- Yes," he answered. "Come in," he added hurriedly, he didn't want to make a bad first impression.

"Thank you," she said as she stepped over the threshold. "Are your uncle and aunt here?"

"They . . . They're in the living room," he answered reluctantly, he didn't want any of them to ruin this for him. "First door on your left," he directed, and she walked ahead.

When he followed into the living room, it was an awkward sight that greeted him. Mordred was sat on the settee, starring, with a biscuit in his hand which was half way between the packet and his agape mouth. Morgause was sneering at the lady, probably on account of her wardrobe mostly. And Cenred was staring directly at the television, pretending as if there wasn't a single other person in the room. The professor took in all of these varying reactions rather calmly, her only visible response being the arching of a single eyebrow.

"Right," she said, snapping Mordred out of his shock and forcing an obviously fake smile onto Morgause's face. She turned to Cenred, "Pleasure to see you again Mr King." Merlin had no idea why she put emphasis on his surname, but he did notice that her voice as dripping with sarcasm.

The direct address finally forced Cenred to acknowledge her presence in his house. He scowled. "Professor McGonagall," he nodded casually in her direction. The shock that he remembered her name was clear to see on Professor McGonagall's face.

"You've met before?" Merlin asked in confusion. He knew his uncle used to be part of a wizarding family, but he was still surprised that he hadn't eradicated any memory he had of it.

"Yes, I remember the woman who ruined my life," Cenred said coolly. McGonagall looked as if she was about to protest, but before she could say anything Cenred cut across her. "She's the one who brought you here," he told Merlin.

The boy looked down and just nodded stiffly. It was nothing he hadn't heard before. Usually Cenred was drunk before he started spouting about how Merlin was the worst thing to ever happen to his family, how all he had wanted was a normal life and that thanks to him it was all ruined. He was six years old when he was first told that nobody wanted him there. So hearing this now was not a surprise to Merlin, nor was it a big deal.

McGonagall couldn't believe it. Here was this little boy, who had been his parents' pride and joy, being told he was a burden and not wanted. And the worst part was that he accepted it like it was nothing. She, too, was now starting to regret the day she ever brought Merlin to live with this man.

She could still remember now how shocked and relieved Balinor and Hunith were to have their little boy. They had been almost certain that they couldn't conceive and had even looked into some muggle methods where magic had failed them. And after four years of trying they were shocked to finally find Hunith pregnant, no matter how scared they were with the war starting.

She had even met Merlin once or twice when he was small. He had always been a boisterous child, very loud but very happy. He had always been laughing back then. She wondered what had happened to that beaming grin that she remembered from all those years ago. And she hoped it wasn't gone forever.

Merlin noticed the professor staring at him. Had he done something wrong? She looked very upset; whatever it was he had done it must have been bad for her to look close to tears like that. "I'm sorry," he apologised to her quickly as he looked down shamefully. "Whatever I did, I didn't mean to." She hadn't even been there for ten minutes and he had already mucked everything up. It was no wonder that Cenred hated him.

Her eyes widened comically at his apology. Oh dear, had he done something else wrong now, too?

Minerva had never been so heartbroken. In what way had he been treated here if he was mistaking her pity for blame? It was as if the boy had never encountered the emotion before.

"Shall we get this over and done with then?" Cenred asked, acting oblivious to the furious gaze McGonagall was shooting him. "I'd rather have this finished quickly," he told her, "you're interrupting our afternoon."

"Right," she said her voice carefully controlled, keeping her anger in check. It would not do to turn the man into the pig he acted like. As she sat on the settee she swiped her skirt from underneath her and placed her hands, folded, on her lap. Even while sitting, her posture was ram-rod straight.

"Well in most cases with a halfblood wizard there would be no need for a member of faculty to make a visit. However, this is an extreme case, since you're left with relatives with no magical talent," she glared at Cenred as she said this, well aware of his childhood wish to have gone to Hogwarts with his brother. The man clenched his fists subconsciously and she smirked. She turned back to Merlin, "I will be apperating us to Diagon Alley, where you can buy your school supplies and even a pet, if you wish," she said with a small (and hopefully reassuring) smile.

As soon as she had mentioned school supplies the boy's face had lit up. He looked so excited at the prospect of getting ready for Hogwarts. She finally saw a true glimpse of Balinor and Hunith's boy, behind all the fear and trepidation.

"That all sounds amazing," he said breathlessly. "But, I . . . I don't have any money to spend. And I couldn't ask my uncle to -"

"Damn right you couldn't" Cenred interrupted. "You'll not get a dime off me."

"Well then it's a good thing that he won't be needing your money, isn't it, Mr King."

"I- I won't?" Merlin asked hesitantly, not quite believing her.

"No," she said resolutely. "Both your grandparents and parents died in the war," she said, pretending not to notice his wince at the mention, "With your uncle making no claim to any of the wizarding money, you are the sole inheritor. As most pureblood families are rather wealthy and your grandfather was from an old line, you have a small fortune to your name."

Merlin gaped, no way was this true. All this time he had been given old clothes and next to nothing, when in reality he had the inheritance moyey from a wealthy family that he could have been spending. It was almost impossible to believe. "Oh," he summed up eloquently.

"Yes, 'oh'." She got up and dusted off her skirt. "I'm assuming none of you would like to join us?" she directed towards the Kings. "No? Well, goodbye then," she said, before receiving any sort of answer.

As she moved towards Merlin to grab his hand and apperate them, she noticed his entire body tense as he flinched away from her touch.

And it was in that singular moment that Minerva McGonagall regretted the day she ever saw the face of Cenred King.