~4~

At breakfast, Merlin kipped over to the Ravenclaw table to say hello to Freya. She smiled brightly at him, asking how Quidditch practice had been. Merlin shrugged and said it was all right (after having slept on it, Merlin decided that Arthur was right to have had the Seeker training—he did need to become accustomed to the school field and all). Since the Hall was filling up with hungry students, they bade each other a quick farewell and a promise to see one another in Potions. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were doubled on Tuesday mornings.

Merlin found Will and plopped down next to him, reaching for a slice of toast. He noticed that Will looked tired. And cranky.

"What's got you all buggered this morning?" Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow in imitation of his uncle.

"Nothing," Will said shortly, eyebrows drawn together. "What, haven't you got Quidditch practice or something?"

Merlin lowered his toast, looking partially hurt and concerned. "No," he said slowly. "We've got Potions today, remember?"

"Not going to sit with your team, then?"

"Well, I could, but…" Merlin cast a glance down the table, where Elyan looked about to fall face-first into his porridge despite Leon constantly nudging him awake. Arthur was voraciously tearing into a literal handful of bacon as Mithian looked on in disgust, bowl of cereal forgotten. Gwen and Lancelot were nowhere to be seen. "I want to sit with you."

Will didn't respond, merely viciously impaled a sausage link with his fork.

"Will, are you all right?"

"Fine."

Merlin was silent for a moment, no longer feeling quite so happy to greet the day. Freya had seemed quite contented, the polar opposite of how Will was. Perhaps they hadn't fixed the problem between them? He set his toast down on his plate and stood. "I'll be right back," he said, hurrying away.

If Will had acknowledged him, Merlin hadn't heard it. He stopped again at the Ravenclaw table. Freya had already turned, alerted to his presence by one of her friends seated across from her. Her smile dampened when she saw his troubled expression.

Both opened their mouths at the same instant and blurted, "What's wrong?"

Freya clamped her lips and indicated that he should speak. Merlin opened his mouth, but then looked uncomfortably at her three friends, who were pretending to be wholly preoccupied with their food but were so obviously listening.

"Excuse me," Freya said, reading Merlin's gaze correctly.

They walked a bit farther on and stopped face-to-face out of the way of traffic.

"What is it, Merlin?"

"Will," he said. "He's…well, he's…" Merlin found himself unable to describe it, glancing back over his shoulder. Freya followed his gaze, standing up on her tip-toes to get a look.

"Oh, for Merlin's beard!" she huffed. Without another word, she strode off to the Gryffindor table, Merlin following in befuddlement. She stopped behind Will and folded her arms, then cleared her throat impatiently.

Will turned and gazed at her coolly. "Du Lac," he said.

Freya was apparently unimpressed. "Du Lac, huh? As if we don't know one another."

Merlin looked decidedly lost.

"Get over yourself, you moron," she said. "Just because you're jealous and lonely doesn't mean you have to take it out on us!" Will bristled, but had no chance to let out a scathing comment because Freya continued, flapping her hand at him in admonishment: "In case you hadn't realized, you were the one who first encouraged Merlin to try out for the team."

"Well, I didn't think he'd make it!" he responded hotly.

Merlin's breath hitched in his chest, hurt. Several conversations had stopped, interrupted by Will's outburst. Just as soon as he'd said it, though, Will appeared to have become aware of Merlin's presence; he paled considerably under Merlin's sad gaze, shoulders sinking guiltily.

"Hey," he said softly, "Merlin, I…I didn't mean that!"

"It's alright," Merlin said, a bit stilted. He forced a grin onto his face. "I didn't expect…Well, I thought I hadn't made…"

Freya turned and gave Merlin a sympathetic look that hardened when she turned back to Will. "I think you'd best think about what exactly your friendship means to you," she said coldly. "No one likes a sore loser, William Wiga." With that she spun on her heel again and returned to her table.

After a moment of hesitation, Will turned back to his plate, aghast. The owl post arrived, hundreds of birds of all sorts swooping through the Hall and dropping mail and packages before the students to whom they belonged. Nothing came for them. Merlin resumed his place at his side and picked up his cold toast.

"Is that…" Merlin trailed off, unsure what he wanted to say. He watched the owls leave out of the windows from which they came.

Will seemed to understand. "What we fought about the other day? Yeah. Yes, it was."

Merlin nodded, his chest still feeling rather tight.

"I just thought it might be fun," Will said quietly, pushing his sausage around his plate. "I didn't think either of us would make it, I just wanted to, you know. For the sake of it. And then when we found out that you'd made Seeker, well, I was really happy for you, honest. But then it sort of sunk in, you know."

"I made the team and you didn't," Merlin said. "We won't have as much time together anymore."

"Yeah. And considering that you and Freya are my only friends…Well. Maybe now I don't have any friends, what with how horrible I've been of late." He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the edge of the table, staring forlornly down at his plate. "I'm sorry."

Tears stung Merlin's eyes.

"I'm sorry, too. I didn't realize—"

"Shut up, you bastard," Will said fondly. "It's not your place to apologize when you're not in the wrong."

The corners of Merlin's lips quirked up. "Come on. We'll be late for Potions, and you know Gaius won't hesitate to take ten points from us both."

"You're right. I'll try and make up with Freya when we get there, too."

They both snatched a fresh piece of toast and hurried off to the apothecary, which was located in the tower that overlooked the Whomping Willow. The class used to be in the dungeons, but Gaius abhorred the damp, and the chill air was no good for his rheumatics.

As it turned out, when Freya saw that they were laughing and talking as they normally did, she warmed up considerably toward Will and hadn't even needed an apology. Merlin, in good spirits, had done exceptionally well in Potions that day. He'd earned Gryffindor ten points with his Deflating Draught. Gaius had even bottled the solution to keep in case it was needed ("No sense in wasting a perfectly good concoction, m'boy," he'd winked with a proud smile). Although it hadn't been a surprise, really, as Potions was his best subject.

They had Herbology with the dreaded Professor Borden in the afternoon, so after a quick spell in the library to work on Professor Iseldir's essay, they went in to eat lunch, bidding farewell to Freya. Merlin had a hearty meal that filled his stomach far better than had the single slice of toast from the morning. On his way out, Gwen and Mithian, looking hassled with a book between their plates (they were desperately studying for a sixth-year Transfiguration exam), both managed to smile and wave at him before bowing their heads and flipping hazardously through the pages.

It was a nice warm day, and the boys could only hope that the bright sun had put the professor in good spirits. From the top of the hill on their way to the Greenhouse, Merlin could see several figures flitting about the Quidditch pitch, moving impressively in unison and breaking apart like a school of fish and moving back together into a unit. It was Team Slytherin, if Merlin remembered correctly. He stood and watched them practice their drills for a moment. They were very good, the lot of them. But surely Gryffindor was better.

Feeling rather confident in the first game of the season—upcoming in three weeks, Gryffindor against Slytherin—Merlin caught up with Will and they argued amiably about whether Dryads existed (an ongoing debate that had begun several years ago when they had fallen asleep in a forest; Will insisted that he'd had an adventure with one, but Merlin didn't believe it for a second).

As it happened, Professor Borden was not in any particularly pleasant mood. He prowled the aisles between the students, who were grouped up in threes as they desperately tried to fulfill his assignment: collect and drain five bubotubers of their pus before the end of class. By the end of it, Merlin and Will, as well as everyone but the professor, were thoroughly battered and grumbling under their breaths. Gryffindor lost thirty points that dreadful period.

But even that wasn't quite enough to put a damper on Merlin's humor. He and Will enthusiastically abused Professor Borden's character and ugly demeanor on their way back to the castle. Their classes were finished for the day, and they decided to go and take a bath, have some dinner, and do their homework in the library. They figured Freya would take pity on them if they were to show her their collection of scratches and bruises from their bubotuber plant beating and she would help them find the answers they needed.

As they crossed the grounds, Merlin spotted Gwaine, who instantly saw him. "Oi, Merlin!" he called, waving. "Come 'ere, come 'ere!"

Merlin exchanged a look with Will, who shrugged, and they jogged across the green expanse of lawn to join them. Getting closer, the pair saw that Gwaine wasn't alone, but had been passing an unremarkable kickball amongst two friends. The one was built so largely that Merlin had no doubt that he had some giant blood in him—he wasn't prejudiced, and in fact had befriended a giant in the forest once—but he had such a kindly face that there was also no doubt that he was completely harmless. The girl was at least a head and half shorter than Merlin, with frizzy blond hair and a huge toothy grin. She managed to somehow kick the ball behind her and ran off to chase it, tripping over her feet once or twice.

"Ah," Gwaine said reminiscently when they approached. "Bubotubers?"

Merlin and Will nodded.

"My friends," Gwaine said, looking at Merlin but apparently encompassing the lot of them, "let us have a moment of introductions. Merlin, meet Will Wiga. Will, meet Merlin Emrys. Merlin, meet Percy Graal. Percy, meet Merlin. Merlin, meet Elena Sidhe—aye, cousin of that awful Sophia Sidhe from Slytherin. Elena, meet Merlin. Will, meet Percy. Percy, meet Will. Will, meet Elena. Elena, meet Will. Everyone, everyone. And, it goes without saying, Gwaine Greene."

Merlin shook hands with each of them (yes, including a slightly confounded looking Will) as instructed.

"We've heard so much about you, Merlin!" Elena said excitedly, shaking the entire length of his arm. "Gryffindor's new Seeker, right? Excellent, you're definitely built for it. Me, I couldn't play Quidditch, I'm too clumsy! Percy's too heavy for broomsticks, too, so that's us!"

Merlin grinned.

"We'll be cheering Gryffindor, of course," Percy said.

"Not that we don't like Slytherin," Elena said quickly, "it's just that Gwaine's friends are our friends and all."

"I understand," Merlin laughed. "Thanks for the support anyway!"

Gwaine slung an arm around Merlin and Will's shoulders. "Right, so I'll be commentating on the match. Don't worry, I'll be sure to throw in a few pointers for the ladies—or lads, if ye be into that, and no judgment here, my friend—who'll be vying for ye, mate. And Will, I meant to ask, but bugger me I'd forgotten! Listen, ye don't have to answer me now, but think on it, eh?"

"Think on what?" Will asked apprehensively.

Gwaine grinned briefly, but then sobered and put on a sad expression. "Seeing how I'm a seventh-year and all—my last year, ye understand—I need someone to take over for me when I'm gone. Now normally that wouldn't be a problem, but I need someone to carry on my legacy!"

"Legacy?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Aye," Gwaine nodded, then flicked his bangs back out of his eyes. "I need an apprentice, and ye seem to be right up commentator alley."

"Me? Commentator?"

"Sleep on it, eh?" Gwaine winked. "Now ye lads get moving, preferably to the baths! Ye stink like soured milk and plant rot."

Merlin surreptitiously smelled the sleeve of his robe as Gwaine, Percy, and Elena headed off, presumably to find a flatter patch of land to accommodate Elena's clumsiness. Will just stared after them, starry-eyed. The raven-haired boy nudged him with an elbow. "We do stink," he said urgently. "Freya won't come near us, let alone help us, if we don't clean up!"

The rest of their trek consisted of an animated discussion of whether Will should accept Gwaine's offer. Merlin encouraged it, though perhaps a little reservedly. Gwaine was a nice bloke, certainly, but also a little loose-tongued. Merlin could only imagine the sorts of things Gwaine would be saying during the match ("Ladies—or blokes if yer into that, no judgment 'ere—if yer interested in number 17, Merlin Emrys, he's a nice chap! Ye can find him in the third floor toilet eating chocolates on the days when Professor Nimueh screeches death premonitions at him."), and he could only hope that the innocence of the youngsters in the crowd remained intact by the time it was over. Although, Merlin had attended all of the Quidditch matches throughout his first three years at Hogwarts, and Gwaine had commentated most of them—he'd only been reprimanded a few times for shouting obscenities at one player or another.

He brightened considerably at the thought. Perhaps this way Will wouldn't be so put out by Merlin being on the team. Because let's face it—without a commentator, Quidditch was just a vague series of blurs and streaks with a roaring crowd. Someone had to know what was happening.

The boys stopped by their dorm to grab up their cleanest smelling robes and underpants, then journeyed to the bath. Since they were best friends, and the tub was large enough that they could submerge themselves in the foamy water without touching, they shared one, occasionally pointing out oddly-shaped bruises that they found on themselves as they washed. Merlin had a fantastic one (he was quite proud of it, really) that looked a bit like Australia below his left nipple.

"So," Will said conversationally, which meant that he was fishing for something with which to tease Merlin, "how's that Pendragon bloke?"

"Still a prat," Merlin said lightly, scrubbing his foot with soap. "But he seems kind of…nice?"

"Nice?" Will grabbed Merlin's ears in his wet hands and turned him toward him. "He hasn't taken advantage of you, has he? Have you been deflowered? Cherry popped? Your bowtruckle sprung? Did he touch your wand, Merlin?"

"Gerroff me!" Merlin laughed, slapping his friend's hands away. Will snickered and retreated back to his side of the tub.

Will slapped water at Merlin. The splash caught him in the face, but he turned away at the last moment and squeezed his eyes shut to protect them from soap.

"Oh yeah?" he growled playfully. In retaliation, Merlin swiped both palms across the surface (most of the bubbles were gone then), sending a mini tsunami crashing into his friend. Will repeated the move, Merlin raising a defensive arm.

Merlin stood suddenly, water cascading down his lithe body in rivulets, grinning evilly. Will's eyes widened fearfully.

"Oh no," he said, backing away. His hand scrabbled at the edge of the tub as though intending to pull himself to safety or to hang on for dear life. "Merlin, no! Stop! Don't!"

But Merlin did it anyway, his most disastrous move: a full-on in-the-tub belly flop.

Water went everywhere. It sloshed over the sides of the tub, went up Will's nose even as he tried to stand and escape, soaked into their clothes and towels they had laid aside, and swallowed up Merlin's body as it sank like a rock in a pond. Merlin and Will both came up choking on water and giggles.

"Oi!" snapped a voice, echoing through the chamber over the rapport of angry footfalls. Merlin and Will crouched behind the wall of the tub, wincing. "This is a bath, not a—oh."

They shouldn't have been quite as surprised as they were to find the Gryffindor Prefect Arthur squinting at them (he wasn't wearing his glasses—he'd probably lost them again) from a few feet away, standing right at the edge of the huge bathwater puddle Merlin had made. A few pathetic bubbles skated the surface of the shallow pool.

Merlin grinned brightly. "Hi, Arthur! So, Quidditch practice Thursday, right? Oh, and Will's going to be Gwaine's apprentice! Look at this bruise I've got, it's shaped like Aus—"

"Merlin's beard," Will exclaimed, "your face is getting all red, Pendragon!"

That seemed to make Arthur snap. "Of all the irresponsible—I—you—Merlin," he growled. "I was in the middle of studying for an important exam when someone fetched me and said there were people in the bath doing improper things!"

"Improper things?" the fourth years repeated, exchanging a confused look.

"Now listen," Arthur said, holding up a hand to silence them and pinching the bridge of his nose with his other, "I can't stop you from—from, well, you know, but you can't do it in the bath. It's a public place, you know!"

"Do it?" they parroted, looking only more confounded.

Arthur pointed a stern finger, looking flushed out of embarrassment more than anger now. "This is your only warning, the both of you!" He spun on his heel and hurried out, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to look composed and dignified.

Merlin and Will frowned.

"Well, perhaps we went a bit overboard with the splash fight," Merlin conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. He shivered at the touch of cool air on his shoulders, a few beads of water sliding down his pale skin.

"Yeah," Will agreed. "Pompous ass, he was. 'Improper things in the bath.' Well, I don't see a list of rules forbidding having fun!"

"Come on," Merlin said, climbing out. "I'm starving."

Merlin found his wand in the pocket of his dirtied robes, and performed a complicated little wave that produced a stream of hot air. He made quick work of drying off the towels and their clean clothes. They dressed, feeling much warmer after having done so. The dirty robes they left lying on the floor for the house elves to find. The little creatures would wash and return them while they were sleeping, more likely than not, so they weren't worried about it.

After a quick stop at their room to grab their bags so that they could go to the library once dinner was finished, they made their way to the Great Hall among a horde of other hungry students.

"Shall we sit with your Quidditch friends?" Will asked, jerking his head toward the table.

Merlin glanced over and saw them huddled together at one end. Gwen and Mithian were laughing at something Lancelot was saying, and Elyan was just arriving. He sat next to his sister, apparently inquiring what was so funny. Arthur and Leon weren't there yet.

"Let's go ask Freya to the library first," Merlin suggested, turning toward Ravenclaw table. Upon finding her and approaching, Merlin complained, "Freya, I've got a bruise shaped like Australia from a bubotuber plant!"

She arched her eyebrows mildly. "Then perhaps your aunt or uncle can give you some ointment," she said. "Just because you've got a few bruises like everyone else doesn't mean I'll do your work for you!"

"Merlin got knocked out today," Will lied, patting Merlin's head as though it were the snout of an agitated horse. He planted a swift, brotherly kiss on the jetty locks. "Can't remember a thing, poor bloke."

"Did I?" Merlin asked quizzically. He honestly couldn't put it past himself to have been knocked out and forgotten about it; it's happened often enough.

Freya seemed to think so, too, because her amused expression became tinted with concern. "Did you see Alice?"

"Yes," Will said, "he doesn't remember that, either. Alice said the amnesia oughtn't to be too bad, though. He does remember seeing Gwaine and his friends on the way to see her."

Merlin lamented the fact that he honestly couldn't tell whether his best friend was lying or not. He was starting to doubt his own sanity and to contemplate his own existence as Descartes had when he'd been incurably Confunded.

"Well," Freya said, "I'll see you at the library, then."

"Great, thanks!" Will beamed. Merlin smiled and waved at her as Will steered him back to Gryffindor table where their friends sat.

He forgot to ask whether Will had been telling the truth (and shouldn't that have been testament!) because when they arrived they were greeted quite cheerfully by everyone except Arthur, who was busy examining the lenses of his glasses (he'd found them under the bed, which was far too easy for once) for specks of dust. Merlin had never had quite so many friends before. It was a bit overwhelming, but he found that he rather liked it, having a good time with more than two people at once. It was a nice change.

While listening to one of Leon's jokes and eating spaghetti, Merlin felt a small tingling sensation. He glanced across the Hall, toward the Slytherin table. And locked gazes with an eerie pair of eyes in a pale round face.

Emrys.

"What?"

The buzzing immediately around him stopped, and eyes still twinkling a bit with mirth turned to him. "Did you not get it?" Elyan asked kindly, chuckling. "It's funny because—"

"No, someone said my name," Merlin said, looking round in confusion. His teammates helped him look around, but there was no one in hearing range that might have tried to get his attention. Merlin even looked up to the teacher's table, but his mum, uncle, and aunt were all deep in conversation.

"Maybe you're hearing things, Merlin," Will said. He turned to offer an explanation to the rest of them: "He got knocked out by a bubotuber plant today."

They all winced in sympathy, and even looked a little concerned when Merlin frowned and said, "Did I really?"

"Well," Arthur said loudly and nonchalantly, "he seemed quite fine when I found you two in the bath not an hour ago."

Will groaned just as loudly and rolled his eyes, while Merlin blinked at the queer look Arthur had. Everyone else fell silent and watched, eyes perhaps a bit wide at the information. "Come off it, Pendragon. Just because you don't know how to have fun—"

"I know perfectly well how to have fun, thank you," Arthur bit out, cheeks flushing. "And I can do it within the parameters of the school's—"

"What, are you jealous, Pendragon?"

"No! I'm simply saying that Merlin seemed perfectly capable of—"

"Ah, so you are jealous!" Will said triumphantly, jabbing a finger at him. "You were trying to steal Merlin away from me! Well, it obviously won't work, because Merlin's my b—"

"Now hold on," Leon snapped, interrupting the argument. Will and Arthur, both looking to be on the edge of a fistfight, looked sharply toward him. "Let's not argue. After all, Merlin's on the team now," he directed this bit to Arthur, who scowled and looked away, "and no one's stealing anyone from anyone else."

Merlin looked entirely flabbergasted, and Gwen put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Besides," Gwen added, "obviously poor Merlin's not completely recovered from his concussion! Look at how confused and pale he is."

The girls and Lancelot proceeded to fuss over him, Mithian even offering to go up and fetch Alice for him.

Somehow, Merlin managed to extradite himself from their grasps, and he and Will made a quick getaway to the library. When Freya arrived, they filled her in on what had happened, and she had seemed just as confused as Merlin was.

"It sounds almost like he's…" she trailed off uncertainly, then shook her head. "No, never mind. Now, how's your head feeling, Merlin? Up for a study session?"

Merlin resigned himself to learning about the properties of moon stones and their effects when used incorrectly. But all the while, he couldn't stop thinking about Arthur's strange behavior, and the voice that had come from inside his head.