Standard disclaimer
The Great Hall was always filled with noise when food was served. That Thursday, the sound acted as a perfect cover for an argument two Slytherin first years had at breakfast. From what Merlin could gather, it had to do with Corvus's statements the first day concerning the temperament of the students in Gryffindor. Rocelin argued on the side of the Gryffindors, stating that they couldn't all be meatheaded imbeciles, while Corvus held true to what his brothers had told him about the house. Merlin didn't much care either way, after all, what did it matter if Gryffindor house held people of little tact or not. Arthur had often switched between intelligence and utter stupidity, and he most certainly would have been in that house.
"Also, their common room isn't in the dungeons," Rocelin rebuked.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Corvus asked.
"Well, they must have some intelligence so as not to pick one of the absolute worst places in the castle as their living space."
"It wasn't even the Gryffindor house. That was Godric, their founder, who chose not to have a common room in the dungeon."
"Then Salazar must have been the most idiotic of all. Who puts a common room in the dungeon?"
"We do have a neat view of the lake. That does make up for the dungeons, at least a little." At Merlin's input, Rocelin looked at him in mock outrage.
"Merlin! You're supposed to be on my side!" he grumbled.
"I'm just saying that it's neat."
"Can I also add that the Gryffindor house, at one point in time, added a large tree branch to the top of their tower to make it the tallest on the castle." Corvus grinned smugly.
"That doesn't prove that the whole house is full of idiots," Rocelin protested.
"Perhaps not, but it does prove that they are full of themselves."
"What do we have today?" Merlin asked, rather tired of their conflict and hoping to redirect the topic of conversation. Rocelin looked at the old warlock and resigned from the argument he'd been having, choosing to pull out his timetable.
"History of Magic is first-" Rocelin started.
"So that we can get some much-needed rest before classes actually start," Corvus quipped.
Rocelin glared at him and continued, "Potions, Flying, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"What'd your brothers tell you about those?" Merlin asked the dark-haired boy sitting next to him.
"History of Magic is fine; the teacher is really enthusiastic but the subject is boring. Potions is alright. Orion really liked it. Flying got great reviews from both Scorpius and Orion, which surprised me 'cause Scorpius is normally an ass about every class. DADA is alright too. The head of house for Slytherin is the professor, and we learn some interesting stuff. She's a good teacher, so I've heard."
"An exciting day, then?" Rocelin asked, grinning ear to ear.
"Hopefully," said Corvus, "But we have half our classes with the Gryffindors."
As he and Rocelin began to bicker again, Merlin turned his attention to the head table where Professor Lyfeld was sitting. The two made eye contact and the professor gave a conspiratorial wink. Merlin gave a small grin and refocused on his two friends.
They were still arguing.
Merlin sighed and once again tried to redirect the conversation. "What do you know about Professor Lyfeld?"
The two once again ceased their argument to answer Merlin's question.
Corvus glanced toward the staff table. "Not much. Scorpius doesn't like him, but he doesn't like anyone really. Apparently, Lyfeld's relatively new. This will be his third year teaching here." The Black shrugged.
"I don't much like him," Rocelin commented. "He's too…" The blond waved his hand in the air as if to suggest a completion of the sentence.
"That's very specific of you, Rocelin," Corvus teased. "I'm glad you're so eloquent. Maybe you should join Gryffindor, I'm sure they'd find your speech both meaningful and poignant."
And the argument began once again.
History of Magic was taught by a young, red-headed man named Cuthbert Binns. He had recently graduated Hogwarts and appeared to be very excited as he began the course that morning.
"History of Magic allows us a glimpse into the past. We better understand those who walked the path before us, what they believed and how it shaped what we believe today. And, in all, how magic has grown and spread." Professor Binns smiled at the class. "Today, we will begin study on the origins of magic, what was once called the Old Religion and what led to its eradication." As Merlin became more attentive upon hearing this information, he noticed Corvus's head was lying on the desk, and his breathing had become slower. Merlin rolled his eyes and listened to the professor.
The stories he told were interesting. Professor Binns wove together the folklore and factual history as he lectured; however, it was clear to Merlin that there was not much information covering those early years. In fact, he didn't learn anything he hadn't learned from Gaius about the ways of the Old Religion.
"And then around the late fifth and early sixth century, a powerful new sorcerer stepped into the light." About half the class had fallen asleep while the other half stared enraptured at Binns's tale. Rocelin scribbled something on the piece of parchment he was taking notes on and glanced over at Merlin. The latter grinned and motioned to Corvus with his head. The young Black had started to drool in his sleep. Rocelin smiled widely. "The great and powerful Merlin." Merlin felt the professor's eyes on him as he looked at the parchment in front of him, pretending to take notes. "He was a powerful prophet, rumored to be the son of a princess and an incubus. He was a great friend to Uther Pendragon, even assisting in the conception of the king's son, Arthur."
Merlin started at the professor's words. What was this? It was inaccurate and, in all, rather odd. Did Geoffrey of Monmouth record this? For the rest of the class period, Merlin drifted out of focus and puzzled over the meaning behind the story Binns told.
He certainly didn't teach Arthur anything, as the professor implied, and he was a couple years younger than the prince anyway. If Geoffrey hadn't died some years ago, Merlin was sure he would have left the school and confronted the man after hearing such a tale. He had gifted Arthur Excalibur and many of the names of knights and nobles were the same, but the history Binns spoke of did not follow what Merlin remembered.
"And a powerful sorceress trapped the great sorcerer in what could be a tower or a rock or a tree. Whichever entombment Merlin experienced, it is unknown today whether he lives." Binns paused and surveyed the class, overlooking those who were sleeping. "That is all for today. If you have any questions, please ask me as you leave." He sat down at his desk and students began to file out.
Rocelin nudged Corvus who jumped upon waking. "Imnosleepin what?" he said wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
"Of course you aren't, Corvus, but surely you heard that class was over." Rocelin gave a teasing grin.
"Yeah. I knew," Corvus said, standing. As he did so, he stepped on the hem of his robe and went tumbling down. Rocelin laughed. "Merlin's beard, Rocelin. There's no need to be so rude," Corvus huffed.
"If you were listening in class, you'd have learned that Merlin didn't have a beard," Merlin chastised.
"What?!"
"Only kidding." Merlin grinned.
"You two are horrible," Corvus groaned as he stood.
The Slytherin first years started to leave the room, and, as they passed Professor Binns, Merlin considered asking him why the tales about himself were so convoluted. But then he recalled Lyfeld's discovery of his identity and decided against it. There was no way he would reveal more than he had to. Perhaps he'd do some study on the topic outside of class.
"Off to Potions!" Rocelin declared, and proceeded down the hallway, black robes billowing behind him. Corvus looked at Merlin and the two set off behind their blond friend.
Potions went by slowly as the three boys anticipated the flying lessons to occur later in the day. Corvus and Rocelin worked together at a cauldron while Merlin paired with Eva, as Slytherin and Hufflepuff had Potions together. Merlin noticed Rocelin become so distracted that, at one point, he knocked multiple sprigs of wolfsbane into the pot, causing a puff of yellowish smoke which forced Professor Parkinson to empty the cauldron with a wave of her wand. Merlin was reminded throughout the class of the time he spent with Gauis working in the physician's quarters to create remedies and cures for the castle. With Eva helping him, the two successfully brewed a cure for boils by the end of the period. However, Merlin grew more excited at the prospect of the flying lessons after lunch.
By the time the class ended, Rocelin was positively glowing with anticipation. As they walked toward the Great Hall, Corvus nudged the blond.
"Why are you so excited?" he asked. "Haven't you ever flown before?"
Rocelin shook his head. "Mother doesn't like having a broomstick in the house. She's worried one of the kids will take it and either reveal themselves to the muggles or crash. I'm not sure which she's more afraid of."
"What about you, Merlin?" Corvus turned to the warlock. "Have you ever flown?"
"Not on a broomstick," came the reply. Both boys seemed to become more interested in the prospect of having flown without a broomstick, and Merlin mentally slapped himself. How was he going to keep his secret if he didn't watch his tongue?
"On what, then?" Rocelin asked.
"My father-" He was interrupted from his half-baked reply by Professor Lyfeld.
"Hello, boys," the professor greeted. The three Slytherins nodded their greetings, Merlin perhaps too enthusiastically. The professor surveyed them for a moment then looked at Merlin. "I look forward to seeing you this evening," he said then turned away from him and entered the Great Hall.
"What was that about?" Corvus asked. The boys' previous query forgotten.
"Nothing exciting." Merlin shrugged. "I'm supposed to see him tonight to work on my magic." It still felt odd to talk about that in public. Here he was, centuries in the future, still wary of Camelot's anti-magic laws.
"So that you don't explode anything in his next class?" Rocelin teased.
"The feather did not explode," Merlin huffed in mock annoyance.
"No but it just about took my eye out," the blond countered.
"Too bad it didn't take your tongue out and we wouldn't have to listen to your rabble." Merlin smirked at the boy who gave the old warlock an outraged expression.
"Your beard, Merlin!" Corvus was laughing.
"My what?"
"You know, because you're Merlin but there's also Merlin Merlin." Rocelin smiled, forgetting his previous indignation. Merlin rolled his eyes: of course this would be the kind of humor he was forced to endure.
The two eleven-year-olds made no further comment as they entered the Great Hall, apparently too overcome by their own incredible wit.
After lunch, the boys stood with the rest of the first years on the Quidditch pitch outside the school. Merlin stared at the goalposts on either end of the field wondering what caused someone to come up with such an odd game. Two of the Gryffindors had walked over to the goals nearest them and attempted to throw small rocks and pebbles through the hoops. Upon seeing them, Corvus smirked and nudged Rocelin.
"What are they trying to do?" the Black questioned.
"Perhaps they're working on their throwing accuracy," the blond responded.
"They look like idiots."
"Maybe-"
"Not this again," Merlin interrupted Rocelin's retort. "Argue about their stupidity somewhere where I'm not standing nearby." Corvus nodded in agreement as the instructor walked onto the pitch.
"Maybe they think you look stupid staring at them," Rocelin whispered to Corvus. Merlin shot him a glare to which the boy grinned and separated himself from Corvus by standing on the other side of Merlin.
The professor blew his whistle shrilly and the group of children surrounded him. "Good afternoon, first years. I am Mister Gwenson." He grinned at the students. "Today we will be learning to fly. I know some of you may have learned at home; however, it would be in your interest to listen and follow along as I may teach you something you have not yet learned. Everyone please take a broom." He motioned to a pile of broomsticks he'd laid in the grass by the edge of the pitch. There was a massive surge as the first years moved to get a broomstick. Once everyone had one, Mister Gwenson separated the students into two parallel lines. "Now put your broomsticks on the ground. Hold your hand over them and say 'up.'" The students did as they were told and shortly after a chorus of "up"s filled the air.
"Up!" said Merlin. Immediately, the broom sprang into his hand. He looked around and noticed only a few of the other students had succeeded on their first try: among them was the Gryffindor, Adwin.
"Up!" Corvus growled from beside him. The boy's broom shifted slightly along the ground. Merlin changed his attention to Rocelin.
"Up!" the blond said. The broom leaped into his hand and pulled him a few inches off the ground. He looked at Merlin and gave a shrug. By this time, around half of the class had managed to get their brooms off the ground. Some of the students shouted advice to others struggling with their brooms and after a few more minutes the whole class had their brooms in hand.
"Now," said Gwenson, grinning, "mount your brooms." The students did so. "Kick off a bit from the ground, we're going to go up and then come back down." Merlin kicked off and felt the broom rise ever so steadily into the air. His heart began to beat faster. "And come back down." Merlin shifted and the broom descended. He planted both feet on the ground again. As the rest of the class landed, Gwenson gave a relieved sigh, clearly thrilled no one had managed to hurt themselves as of yet. "Good. Now up again a couple more times, and then I'll give you free range." The class ascended and descended as a unit twice more. "Alright, then. Ladies and gentlemen, feel free to fly around the pitch for the rest of the period. Do not leave the pitch; there are wards placed at the top so you will not be able to fly out." Several students whooped and kicked their brooms into the air. Merlin followed the rest of the first years off the ground.
Roughly ten minutes later, Merlin found himself next to Rocelin and Corvus, doing loop de loops on the broomstick. He loved flying. When he'd ridden Kilgharrah, he hadn't been able to conduct and was subject to the dragon's whims as the two flew. But now that he had control, he couldn't help but wonder why he'd never tried this before. Surely it didn't take advanced magic to enchant a broom. The wind pulled at his school robes and rustled his coal-colored hair as he flew around the Quidditch pitch. He could imagine what the thrill of the game must be like for those playing and wondered if they ever wanted to come down. He grinned in spite of himself, the smile stretching across his face one of the first truly happy smiles he'd given since everything came crashing down those centuries ago.
At dinner that evening, the first years could not stop talking about their flying lesson. All three Slytherin boys participated in active conversation, grinning from ear to ear and regaling the others with the flying practice they'd had, embellishing as much detail as possible.
It had been a good day, Merlin thought as he walked towards Lyfeld's office later that evening. He'd left Corvus and Rocelin in the Slytherin common room to do their homework as he went to meet the professor. Well, more accurately, he'd left Rocelin to do his work in the common room. Corvus seemed to find sitting still and focusing rather difficult. When he'd walked out, Corvus had been flicking his wand at papers Rocelin was trying to write on, levitating them with a whispered Wingardium Leviosa charm. Rocelin, on the other hand, had looked positively murderous. Merlin was glad to have had the opportunity to leave.
When Merlin pulled himself from his thoughts to look where he was going, he found himself staring at the oak door which marked the entry to Lyfeld's office. He raised his hand to knock, but the door, seemingly of its own accord, swung open to grant him entrance. Lyfeld was sitting behind a solid wooden desk in the center of the room, his boot-clad feet perched atop its smooth surface. His deep red robes seemed to amplify the warmness of the candlelit room as he looked up from the book he was reading.
"Hello, Merlin." The professor smiled, the light from the candles sharply defining the contours of his face.
"Good evening, professor," Merlin greeted, stepping further into the room as the door closed behind him at the flick of Lyfeld's wand.
"Please, have a seat," Lyfeld said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. Merlin did as he was told. The professor studied him for a long moment before asking, "You're really Merlin?" Merlin nodded. The professor shook his head in disbelief, his smile replaced by curious awe. "King Arthur's Merlin?" Merlin nodded again, his mood slightly darkening at the mention of the friend he'd failed to save. "What was he like?"
"Arthur?" Lyfeld nodded. Merlin thought for a moment. "He was a dollophead." Lyfeld's head jerked back in surprise at Merlin's bluntness. The warlock grinned at the professor's reaction, even as he sank into memory. "But he was a good man, one of the best I've known. He cared a great deal for Camelot and his people." And so, Merlin regaled the professor with stories of adventure and excitement that took the two men late into the evening.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Chapter 5 may take a while to come up. :(
All Merlin history facts come from the website Timeless Myths.
