Cornelius Fudge had had better mornings. In fact, any morning that didn't involve whispers about the inadequacy of his reign as Minister of Magic was a better morning. Fudge fully intended to walk into his office, shut the door, and spend the rest of the day furiously working through documents in an attempt to forget the water cooler talk he'd just overheard. It wasn't like he was unaware that Dumbledore would have made ten times the Minister that Fudge would ever be, but that didn't mean people had to gossip about it behind his back.
Tossing his cloak and bowler hat aside, Fudge heaved a sigh and collapsed into his chair only to leap out of it a moment later when his eyes landed on the stranger leaning against the wall. Fudge tried to remember if he'd had any meetings scheduled for that morning. Upon realizing he didn't, he reached surreptitiously for his wand. Say what you want about his skills as a politician. Fudge knew he was good enough with a wand to defend himself. At least until the aurors arrived. The stranger didn't look like an assassin, but that was no reason to assume he wasn't.
"Cornelius Fudge?" the man asked.
"What do you want?" Fudge snapped, neither confirming nor denying his identity. "How did you get in here?"
The stranger glanced at the door and shrugged. "I walked in," he replied. Fudge gave the man a long calculating look. By all means, he looked like a young wizard fresh out of school. With his messy dark hair and rumpled clothes he certainly didn't appear to be much of a threat. Of course this was no reason to assume he wasn't a threat, but Fudge was having a hard time keeping his guard up against those oh so innocent looking blue eyes.
"I demand you leave at once," Fudge declared. He wanted this strange man out of his office now. There was something intimidating in that gaze, a wisdom and age that didn't fit with such a youthful appearance. It was unnerving. Fudge couldn't stand things that unnerved him.
"Not until I've had my say," the man protested. He took a step forward and Fudge took one back, nearly tripping over his chair. The man eyed him contemplatively.
"I just want to talk," the man insisted. "And, honestly, if I meant you harm, do you really think I'd have waited for you to notice me?" Fudge wasn't sure what to think. He was getting a very strange vibe from this man; a combination of dangerous and harmless that did nothing but make his head ache.
"Fine," Fudge snapped. "What is it?"
"I'd like to discuss the state of your history textbooks," the man said. His tone held all the seriousness worthy of a council of war.
"...My what?" Fudge asked, hoping for some clarity.
"History textbooks," the man repeated. "They're horribly inaccurate."
Well. That... This stranger had broken into the Minister of Magic's office to discuss history textbooks? Perhaps Fudge had fallen asleep at his desk and this was all a strange dream.
"I- what- you- Who are you?" Fudge blurted. A crease formed between the stranger's brows and he looked like he was honest to god contemplating whether or not the Minister of Magic deserved that information. Which was stupid. Fudge was the leader of Britain's magic folk. Nobody got to just decide not to tell him their name!
"Merlin Emrys," the stranger finally relented. Fudge was sure he must've heard wrong. That, or this guy's parents had high expectations for their son. Or a warped sense of what constituted an appropriate name for a young wizard in this day and age. Not to say it was a bad name. No name that belonged to the greatest wizard of all time could be a bad name. But...
"Alright then, Mr. Emrys," Fudge said slowly, feeling he was doing a great job of not panicking. "You...you said you had an issue with our history textbooks?" Nope, his voice was not shaking, not at all.
"Yes."
"Which ones?"
"All of them. Well, except for A History of Wandmaking. That one is fairly accurate, but everything else is just blatant lies. I still can't believe some of the crap you teach your children."
Fudge was offended. "I'll have you know that A History of Magic is written by one of the greatest magical historians ever to live!" He snapped.
"It's nothing but lies!" Mr. Emrys protested.
"And what, pray tell, makes you so knowledgeable?"
"Well I should think, having lived through 1500 years of history, I'm rather an expert."
...1500 years? Fudge absently reached up with a pinky and checked his ears for excess wax. This time he was positive he must have misheard. Because that was impossible. Nobody had yet to achieve true immortality (although there were rumors that Nicholas Flamel the famous alchemist and a sorcerer's stone). It was ludicrous.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Fudge asked, fearing the answer.
Mr. Emrys frowned at him and reiterated, "I've been alive for the past 1500 years. I'm quite certain I have a better grasp on history than any historian."
"That... That... But... That's impossible!" Fudge blurted. Color drained from his face. This was too much too early in the day. He needed a drink. He needed some fire whiskey. There was no way- no way in hell!- that he was speaking to a 1500 year old figure of legend. This was someone's idea of a joke, it had to be.
"It would take way far too much time to explain the particulars," Mr. Emrys was saying. "I do maintain that your current state of distress over this is a prime example of how lacking your textbooks are in fact, particularly pertaining to the time of King Arthur and his court. But then again, I am quite biased about that time period." He sounded entirely too amused by Fudge's distress.
"Get out," Fudge muttered.
"I'm sorry?"
"GET OUT!"
Mr. Emrys gave Fudge a shrewd look. Then an expression of almost petulance came over him as he said, "I only wanted to help" before he sulked out the door. Fudge took a moment to brace himself against his desk, mind trying to wrap itself around the fact that a (supposedly) 1500 year old wizard had broken into his office this morning to discuss the alleged inaccuracies of history textbooks. Oh god did he need a fire whiskey.
A/N: Harry Potter really is the perfect crossover for Merlin. Also, apologies for any mistakes. I'm running on 3 hours of sleep.