Hunith opened the door to find little Arthur Pendragon standing on her front step, red-faced, streaked with dirt, and clutching his broomstick.
She noticed his conspicuous lack of companion and felt a tendril of worry begin to creep into her stomach. Her son was an incorrigible troublemaker; there was no knowing what kind of mess he'd gotten himself into this time.
"Arthur, is something wrong? Where's Merlin?"
The boy kept his eyes fixed on his feet and shuffled around nervously, reluctant to be the bearer of bad news. "Um, hello Mrs. Ambrosius. Merlin may have gotten himself into a bit of an accident. But Lullah's patching him up right now. She said I should come get you."
Hunith sighed. Another 'accident'. And she'd been hoping that Merlin had finally grown out of his clumsiness.
.
They took the floo network back to Pendragon Manor. Though Arthur only lived two houses down the street, it was a significant distance to walk when the 'houses' were really sprawling estates in a neighborhood like theirs.
Hunith and Arthur were deposited by the bright green flames in the stately dining room of Pendragon Manor. Arthur easily clambered out of the massive gilded fireplace and set off to find his best friend. The boy led Hunith down a familiar set of twists and turns through the labyrinth of corridors to his own room and marched inside.
Merlin sat on Arthur's four-poster bed, playing with two foxhound puppies with one arm, as an old house elf tended to his other. Lullah turned when the door opened.
"Master Arthur and Mistress Hunith!" the elf squeaked. She bowed to both of them and the lacy cap she wore threatened to slide off of her head.
"Hi Lullah."
Merlin looked up from playing tug-of-war with one of the puppies. "Mum!"
"Oh, Merlin." She rushed over to his side. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mum," Merlin mumbled, embarrassed. "It's not that bad."
There were three surprisingly deep gouges down the length of his pale, skinny arm. Lullah had cleaned the wounds up and was dabbing a foul smelling potion onto the edges of the skin, which smoked and hissed profusely on contact. Before their eyes, the lacerations shrank and partly closed. Satisfied, Lullah covered the entire thing with a bandage and pronounced Master Merlin finished. Then she bowed again and disapparated with a loud crack.
Arthur sat down next to Merlin on the bed and picked up one of the pups. He reached out a curious hand. "Does it hurt?"
Merlin snatched his arm back. "Yes."
"Wimp. I just wanted to touch it."
"Well you can't," Merlin said petulantly. "It hurts and its all your fault."
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
Hunith quickly intervened. "Boys, enough. Now would one of you like to explain what happened here?"
Both of them ducked their heads and avoided eye contact.
"Merlin," she said sternly. "I'd like to know what happened to that arm."
Merlin scowled and picked at the edge of his bandage. "Me and Arthur were on his quidditch field just playing and flying around and then Arthur wanted to play real quidditch and he wanted to be the chaser so he made me be the keeper and I didn't want to because I hate playing keeper! I wanted to be the seeker because I'm good at that but Arthur wouldn't let me and he said I was being dumb. And then when I was keeper he kept making fun of me so I pushed him off his broom and ran away. Then I went into the forest to hide and I didn't want Arthur to find me so I tried to climb this tree but then one of those truckle things—"
"A bowtruckle?" Hunith supplied.
"Yeah! That. It came out and it was really mad and it kept making weird noises so I tried talking to it. But then it scratched me and it really hurt so I hit it with my magic and I ran away all the way back here. Then Arthur found me and we went to Lullah, then Arthur went to get you and you know the rest."
Hunith sighed deeply. "You need to learn to be more careful, Merlin. I worry about you."
"I will, Mum. I'm sorry I worried you." Merlin bowed his head, looking truly contrite for a moment. Then he snapped his head up and asked, "Mum, can we get a puppy?"
"What?"
"A puppy," Merlin said eagerly. "Arthur got puppies for his birthday. See, Llamrei," he pointed to the black pup in his lap, "and Hengroen." He pointed to the russet one sleeping on Arthur.
Arthur had celebrated his birthday only a few days ago and had spent the past week in France as a gift from one of his uncles. He'd returned to England just that morning, in time for Merlin's birthday in two days. Hunith hadn't decided what to get her son yet, but there was no way she was getting a puppy. She wasn't that stupid.
"I'll think about it," Hunith replied noncommittally. "Now say good bye to Arthur, it's time to go home for dinner."
"Bye, Arthur. See ya tomorrow!"
"Bye, Merlin!"
..
"Happy birthday!"
Merlin felt the breath whoosh out of him as Arthur tackled him with a hug.
"It's not my birthday until tomorrow," Merlin protested.
"Don't care." Arthur shoved a brightly colored bag into his face.
It was heavier than expected and Merlin shook it, trying to guess what was inside. Whatever it was started moving around and hissing and Merlin nearly dropped it out of fright.
He looked to Arthur nervously as the gift emitted an ominous wisp of smoke. "What—?"
The other boy smirked. "Open it and find out."
"Mum, can I—?"
Hunith smiled fondly at her son's impatience. "Yes, you may open it."
Merlin held the present gingerly by the corners. He tipped the bag on its side and out slipped a scaly green mass.
It was a model dragon, about the size of Merlin's head and extremely life-like. The detail was exquisite, from the leathery wings to the little ridges marching down its spine, down to the last emerald colored scale. The dragon cocked its head and twitched its whip-like tail, observing its surroundings with intelligent eyes. It stalked forwards and poked its snout into Merlin's chest and sniffed him inquisitively.
"Her name is Tourmaline," Arthur informed him.
"She's beautiful," Merlin said dreamily, stroking Tourmaline's head. The little dragon purred happily like a kitten and nudged her head closer.
Arthur reached a hand out to pet the dragon. "Do you like it? I saw it in the catalogues and I made Father get one."
Merlin smiled dopily at him. "She's perfect. I love it."
He scooped up Tourmaline and placed her on his shoulder. The little dragon flapped her wings a few times to balance herself. She gripped the material of Merlin's shirt with her little claws and shifted around, trying to settle in a comfortable position. With her tail curled around his neck like a necklace, Tourmaline draped herself over Merlin's shoulders.
"You look like an idiot."
Merlin ignored Arthur's comment and marched into the living room where the party would be held later that day.
The room was filled with huge balloons that changed color every few seconds and miles of streamers that tied themselves into intricate knots. Upon entering, Merlin and Arthur were snowed on by the ceiling, which had been charmed to sporadically drop glitter and confetti onto the room's occupants.
At the center of the birthday explosion was a long table laden with a variety of snacks and a wide array of Honeyduke's candy. As the food fizzed and squeaked and wiggled, the two family house elves, Ezra and Edna, scampered around the table, setting up plates and cups. Merlin knew that the pair had spent the entire morning cheerfully creating a pastel yellow masterpiece of a cake that sang 'Happy Birthday' in a high nasally voice.
Tourmaline eyed the food with interest. She hopped off of Merlin's shoulder to prowl around. Some of the sugar mice had escaped their bowl and the little dragon enthusiastically gave chase.
Arthur plopped himself down at one of the seats. "So who's coming to this party?"
Merlin counted on his fingers. "You, me. Leon from down the street, Elena and Gilli from school. My cousin Will, you know him, the French one? He just finished his first year at Beauxbatons actually. Oh, and your sister."
Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Gross, why'd you invite Morgana?"
"'Cause she's nice to me," Merlin said defensively.
"You just have a crush on her."
Merlin blushed hotly. "Do not!"
"Ha! I knew it!" Arthur crowed.
"Well, I know you have a crush on her friend, Gwen," Merlin shot back.
It was Arthur's turn to blush. Before he could say anything in return, the doorbell rang. Merlin jumped up and ran to the door, excited to greet his first party guest.
.
After a long day of running around, laughing and screaming, Merlin sprawled out on his bed, exhausted. All of his guests had gone home and only Arthur remained.
Merlin had opened his presents once his friends had left. Together, Merlin and Arthur broke in the new gobstones set and tried out some of the tricks from Zonko's Joke Shop. Merlin had also received a funny-looking tawny owl as a gift from his parents. He named the grumpy bird 'Archimedes'.
While Arthur played with Tourmaline, Merlin leafed through the book of magic that his Uncle Gaius had given him. He was fascinated by the detailed drawings of various transformations, charts describing the execution of different charms, and illustrations of the—often gruesome—results of an extensive array of curses. He paused to glance up, for about the hundredth time, to look at the clock.
Arthur noticed the direction of his gaze. "Eleven fifty-two. Only a few more minutes."
Merlin squirmed and wiped his sweaty palms on the sheets. He was equally excited and scared, if the jitters in his stomach and his accelerated heart-rate were any indication.
Arthur turned his head to look at his best friend. "What are you so scared about?"
Merlin put the book aside and shifted to sit close to Arthur, leaning against the headboard with their shoulders brushing. He was quiet for a moment.
"What if it doesn't come? What if I'm a squib, like Mum?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous, Merlin. You're not a squib," he said with absolute certainty. "I've seen what you can do without a wand or lessons or anything. What did your Uncle Gaius say? That you're the most powerful wizard he's seen in a while and he works at a school of magic. He's not just saying that 'cause you're related. You need to get it through your thick head that you're gonna be the best wizard anyone's ever known, whether you like it or not."
That brought a smile to Merlin's face. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now stop being a moron," Arthur replied.
"What about you? Were you scared?"
"Oh, please." Arthur waved a dismissive hand. "Of course I wasn't. I'm not an absolute girl like you, Merlin. I don't get scared."
Merlin snorted. "Yeah right."
Merlin knew Arthur, and he knew Arthur's father and the amount of pressure he placed on his son. There was no way that Arthur hadn't been as terrified as he was now. Especially waiting for his letter in a foreign country with only his uncle for company. Somehow, the thought of Arthur being just as scared made him feel better.
Arthur scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Merlin said unconvincingly. "Just, I remember you nearly wetting yourself that time we found a boggart in my attic. Or that time you broke your arm falling off your broomstick. You cried, didn't you? Or how about when—"
"Shut up! No I wasn't!"
"Mmhmm," he replied in that infuriating way that he had. "What time is it now?"
"Eleven fifty-five."
They were both silent for a moment.
"What if I was," Merlin said all of a sudden. "A squib, I mean. Would we still be friends?"
"Duh." Arthur made it sound like it was obvious.
"Even after you went to school and made a lot of cool magic friends without me?" Merlin persisted.
"Merlin. We're gonna be best friends forever. Even when you're like fifty and you're old and ugly and you have a long beard and you smell like old-person. We'll be friends even then. Now stop asking me stupid questions."
Merlin wished he had Arthur's bravado and confidence.
"And stop being so depressing," Arthur ordered. "You're not a squib."
"But how do you know?" Merlin whinged.
"'Cause last summer you accidentally turned all of Morgana's dolls green 'cause she was being mean and father couldn't figure out how to fix it. And 'cause you pushed Mr. Simmons's stupid crup into the river so it would stop chasing us. Or every time you summon sweets out of the kitchen before dinner even though you're not supposed to. And the way your eyes do that gold-y magic-y thing. Explain that, squib."
Merlin contemplated all of that. Suddenly the tension melted from his shoulders. "Okay." And then as an afterthought, "Thanks."
They lapsed into silence again.
"Can I ask you something?"
Merlin shrugged. "Okay?"
"What did you wish for when you blew out your candles?" Arthur asked curiously.
"I can't tell you that! If I tell you, it won't come true."
"Morgana says that's a load of dragon dung. And I'm your best friend so you have to tell me," Arthur argued.
Merlin turned his head away and was quiet. "I wished—I wished for my dad to come home tomorrow."
"Oh." Arthur suddenly felt guilty for pushing.
"Yeah." Merlin shrugged. "It's just. I haven't seen him for a month and I was hoping—"
Arthur slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "He'll be here," he said, adamant.
"Yeah?"
Arthur nodded resolutely. "Yeah. I'll find him myself if he doesn't. Where is he, anyways?"
"Tibet," Merlin replied glumly. "Doing Unspeakable stuff for the Ministry as usual."
"I'm sure he'll be here," Arthur repeated. "It's not every day your bloody awesome kid turns eleven."
That made Merlin smile. "I hope you're right."
As he said those words, the big clock down the hall began to chime. Merlin counted each reverberating peal. ten…eleven…twelve…
Arthur crushed him in a bone-breaking hug. "Happy birthday, Merlin!"
Merlin ignored him, squirmed out of his embrace, and ran to the open window. He stood on his tiptoes with half his torso hanging outside, eyes glued to the empty night sky.
With each passing second, Merlin's heart sank lower into his stomach. After two interminable minutes of bated breath and tightly crossed fingers, Merlin turned away, disappointment stinging in his eyes. He ducked his head to hide the tears that welled up. He'd thought for sure—
"Merlin, look!"
His head snapped up. There, in the distance, a misshapen pinprick appeared in the sky. Merlin's heart rate picked up. He didn't dare to hope…
As it drew closer, Merlin could clearly discern a pair of wings. It was definitely a bird of some kind. Yet he refused to get his hopes up. It could be headed to any house in Upper Flagley, after all. It wasn't necessarily meant for him. No, there was no use in getting too excited.
After a full anxiety-ridden minute, the shape still hadn't veered off course. It was heading straight for his house! Merlin forced himself to breathe. By now, the bird was near enough that he could make out individual feathers and hear every flap of its wings.
The anticipation was making him into a nervous ball of energy. Merlin couldn't stop fidgeting; he jiggled his leg, drummed his fingers on the window sill, and shifted his weight. Arthur stood next to him and watched him warily, but for once didn't have anything to say.
The owl was so close now that Merlin could see the its beady eyes and wicked talons as well as the letter tied to its leg. At this point it was unmistakable; the bird was headed straight for Merlin's window. The two boys ducked out of the way as it swooped into the room with a loud screech.
From the instant the foreign owl entered the room, Archimedes started making a racket in his cage and Tourmaline hissed viciously from on top of the dresser. The owl squawked in fright, hopped right back out the window, and fled as quickly as possible, barely giving Merlin enough time to snatch the letter off its leg.
The enveloped was addressed:
To: MR. M. AMBROSIUS,
3, Ealdor Lane,
Upper Flagley,
YORKSHIRE
Merlin held it in both hands, just staring at the words. Everything felt so surreal; he couldn't believe this was really happening. Merlin turned the envelope over and touched the printed Hogwarts coat of arms reverently. Slowly, carefully, he pried open the wax seal and with shaking hands, slid the parchment out from inside.
Dear Mr. Ambrosius,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Annis Caerleon
Deputy Headmistress
Merlin started at the letter, stunned. He had to read it over several times to grasp the meaning of the words on the page.
"I'm a wizard." He told himself. "I'm going to Hogwarts." It felt amazing to say those words out loud. He felt a heavy weight lift off his chest and released a bewildered laugh. "I'm really a wizard."
"Of course you are, you idiot." Arthur laughed delightedly. "Looks like you're stuck with me for the next seven years!"
Merlin grinned so widely that his face hurt. "Yeah," he said breathlessly. "Yeah."
Arthur hugged him again and this time Merlin returned the embrace. He couldn't resist sing-songing into Merlin's ear, "I told you so."
Merlin pushed Arthur away with another laugh. He was in such good spirits he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. Who cared if his best friend was a smug prat? He was going to Hogwarts! Merlin jumped up. "I've got to tell Mum!"
He dashed out of the room with Arthur on his heels.
.
They told Merlin's mum and his Uncle Gaius and his cousin Will and Aunt Siobhan and Ezra and Edna and anyone who would listen at close to 1 am. When the boys finally returned to Merlin's room after spreading the good news, they both collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Merlin and Arthur crawled under the covers and promptly fell asleep.