Merlin's Beard

This is a one-shot of Merlin in his Hogwarts days, and aims to explain the origins of the expression 'Merlin's beard!' as well as account for muggle beliefs about the legendary wizard.

This is just for fun, and I haven't ever wrote a one-shot before, but I felt this could be a good one. Please be kind, and review.

Thanks xx

Walking towards his third class of the day – defence against the dark arts – the tall, gangly boy known as Merlin kept his head down in an attempt to avoid catching the attention of any of his fellow class mates. Those in his own house were the worst, they would take every opportunity to pick on him.

He was in his final year, and this was the problem. In previous years he would just be picked on for small things (his nose was a favourite, as it was a little big for his skinny face); but this year it was huge. By the age of 16 it was more or less expected that a wizard could grow a fairly decent beard. Not Merlin, he currently only sported a few dark hairs on his chin, and even less on right cheek, while the left remained completely bare and smooth.

Over the summer he waited and prayed that he would be able to grow something…anything. While he did grow a very little amount it was not enough, and as a result he suffered the ridicule of his fellow classmates.

He walked past a Hufflepuff in the year below him, and gave him a very dirty look as he had a good amount of ginger toned stubble on his chin and neck. The Hufflepuff recoiled slightly, as the Slytherin did have a reputation as being one of the brightest of his age, and would take anyone in a duel if challenged.

He was snapped out of his glare by a girl in his year: Mildred. "You're positively green, Merly. You're good at transfiguration, why not just transfigure yourself into a man?" She laughed, and her friends accompanying her giggled along too.

Merlin had already been given detention from Ravenclaw once this week for hexing someone to insult his inability to grow a beard. He did not fancy hanging by his thumbs in the dungeon again, so he merely gave her a glare and whipped off to the north tower where DADA was being taught this year.

He never used to mind the subject. His own head of house, Slytherin, even taught it; but this year was different. The smirk on the professor's face when his classmates would make a joke about him was evident this year. He found it just as amusing as him. Even though the man couldn't grow a single hair on his head, his face was brimming with facial hair that he often had combed into a perfect point.

Merlin sat himself at the back, next to a quiet Gryffindor, she didn't ever speak so he didn't think she would be a bother. He opened his book in order to glare to himself, not to actually read. He heard his teacher come in, but didn't look up from his book.

"Today, students," Slazar began with his booming voice that seemed to make the dinosaur bones that adorned the ceiling shake, and commanded everyone's attention. "We will be evaluating your homework on the stunning spell, as well as introduce some forgetting spells, which I trust you all researched over the summer. Now, while Proffessor Gryffindor does not want us to practice the latter on one another, as they are very easy to get wrong, I think it is important to practice if we hope to perform a forgetting charm on a muggle should they find us. Especially for my final year students." Merlin looked up a little, just to see a small, scared muggle woman being guided to the front of the class by the professor. "This is Emma." She looked to be about their age, or maybe younger. Slytherin had bought a muggle into the school. The tension was high, and everyone in the room looked like they were on the edge of their seats, just in case this slip of a girl was to lash out and kill them all. "I am sorry students, while we do not have a particular fondness for muggles here, I can only allow one student to perform the forgetting charm. Merlin, my boy, I think you are likely to be the most ready for this. Come up."

Merlin walked to the front. He tried to tune out all of the snickers and whisperings. When he reached the front the girl was looking at him wide-eyed, pleading evident in their pools of blue, but he merely turned to his professor. He was from a partially Druid background, but had been friends with a few of the nearby village muggle children when he was a child. He was probably one of the students that feared muggles the least as a result, not that he would let that show for fear they would think he sympathised with their plight.

"Professor?" Merlin asked, inclining his head to see what his teacher's instructions would be.

The whispers were still going on, and the snickers were reeling through his head and he was getting irritated. He heard a girl in the front row whisper to her friend about how he will never reach manhood or be a real wizard if that was all he could grow.

"Stupefy your victim and erase her mind, please." Slytherin held out his hand towards the girl who was crying silently. Merlin noticed that she had a silencing charm on her, because he could see her throat moving up and down as she tried to speak. Well, likely plead.

Thomas Klegg, one of the mouthy Slytherin's in the front row, decided to speak up. "Professor, I think you should choose someone else to perform magic to this standard." Merlin's blood began to boil more and more with each syllable out of the boy's mouth. "After all, he can't even do something as simple as grow a beard-"

He barely got the last word out before Merlin whipped his want out and stalked up to him. "Everyone, magic and muggle, will remember my name – Mark my words Klegg. Every…single….one. Whether I have a beard or not. I will strike fear into those who are my enemy, and defend my friends. My beard – whether it remains like this or grows to a length any wizard will be awed at – will become legendry, because I will make it so." Every word was said so frighteningly, calm and the fire in Merlin's eyes made everyone in the room look taken aback. Suddenly, he turned from Klegg's stunned and slightly fearful face, and looked at the muggle girl, holding his wand out maliciously. "Stupefy." Emma slammed into the wall behind her with such a force it was a miracle she did not come away with any broken bones. Merlin advanced, placing his want right on her forehead. "Obliviate."

Unfortunately for Merlin, he was so heated and thoughts of this magnificent beard he threatened to grow were running so vividly through his mind that he may have just created the first ever myth to spread concerning the great Wizard, who would later help defend a king. She would spread the lie of the infamous wizard, with the long beard to the far reaches of the land, and eventually to Camelot. This lie would mean that for the first Seven years of meeting that man that would become his best friend and also king, Merlin had to use a glamour charm to make the young kind and everyone else in the kingdom think he had a substantial beard. Luckily, by the age of fifty four he was able to grow said beard, with the help of some homemade potions. However, his left cheek did always remain a little sparser for hair than his right.

R&R, Lovelies! x

Update: This is meant to be a funny take on what could have happened. At 16 of course the chances of you being able to grow a beard aren't super high (Will say when I was 16/17 in school the some of the guys in my year could grow better beards than most men I know now, but I digress). Please don't take it too seriously, it is just a silly one-shot. Also, in history whether you were a man would depend on your beard and appearance – please see the Vikings for instance – so at that age some kind of facial hair is likely to be expected for an anglo-boy. And I just thought that would have been more so for wizards as many – Merlin especially – were remembered for their beards.

Sorry, felt a little explaining was necessary as to where this story came from, but ultimately it is silly one-shot.