AN: OMB guys. Thank you so much for the Favorites, Follows, and most of all the Reviews. I was so scared that the last chapter sucked, but you guys regained my confidence.
In this chapter I mention something called The Quill of Acceptance and The Book of Admittance. It's the thing that detects wizard children and it writes their names down to be admitted into Hogwarts when they turn 11. If you want to know more, JK Rowling made an article of it on Pottermore.
Now, before I start to ramble, the chapter shall begin.
Disclaimer: Guess. I dare you.
Merlin
Sometimes Merlin wondered if there really was 24 hours in a day. Sometimes a day would drag on like someone put extra seconds in without anyone noticing, other days he felt like whole hours were removed while no one was looking. It's strange how even though every day is exactly the same amount of time, that it can seem to last longer or shorter than others.
His first day teaching was certainly one that even the seconds felt like days. He could hardly express his relief when his last class left and the sun started to slowly sink over the beautiful tree covered mountains in the distance. The whole day had been fake smiles and avoided questions. One thing he learned was that the old History of Magic teacher Professor Binns did not like to teach legends, and many of the students were very interested in them. He was asked many questions about Mythology, different monsters, legends of old, and of course many Arthurian questions came up just because of his supposed last name.
He had a headache. Teaching was certainly harder than he thought it would be. In just one excruciatingly long day he was wondering if he really was cut out to teach. Maybe he should have turned himself 11 again and join the students side of things. Through, that would put him at a more difficult perspective to help Harry in his destiny. Also, it was extremely difficult to trick the Quill of Acceptance and The Book of Admittance. When he first admitted into Hogwarts many years ago, he head to break into the school, find the book and quill, and convince it to write his name in the book. The book was especially stubborn - every time the Quill came close to writing Merlin's aliases of Myrddin Black (He thought it was safe to use the name "Myrddin" because that name came from a Muggle myth about Merlin, why would any witch or wizard recognize that?) the book would snap shut before any silver ink could touch it's page. Eventually, he got the book to stay open and then his name was written, three days later he got an acceptance letter to Hogwarts.
He'd rather not go through that mess again. He'd rather simply forge documents to get an identity in the magical community than ever see that stubborn book again.
He sighed and leaned over. He was sitting at a desk in his small office connected to his classroom. He was working on planning lessons for tomorrow, or at least that is what anyone would think if they walked in on him.
In reality he was doing research. Research to secretly help destroy Voldemort. He had many books open to many different pages. From what he had heard, it seamed like the snake like man was immortal. He had survived death more than once and came back from it as well. That should not be possible. Merlin himself is immortal of course, but if he's hit with a killing curse you won't see him getting back up. Merlin considered himself more as an enduring creature that can ignore the laws of age. But Voldemort on the other hand… shouldn't be possible. The Old Religion, though not commonly used, still controls the laws of life and death. For a life to be given, another must be taken. The law must be obeyed or it will cause chaos. How could Voldemort ignore that law and continue to live even when his spell supposedly backfired that Halloween many years ago?
He could only come up with theories. He had seen many things over his years that could come up with a somewhat logical explanation as to why the Old Religion hadn't reacted to the impossible resurrection of Voldemort. And each explanation he came up with was more horrible than the last one. Many people have attempted immortality, though many rituals and spells they used ultimately failed. Merlin is sure that only a few have ever come out successful, and even then the spells were easily broken and resulted in a rather vulgar death.
He considered the influence of the Cup of Life. Merlin lost track of it centuries ago, and maybe Voldemort for a hold on the cup and put his blood in it. That method certainly made it possible for Morgana and Morgause's immortal army. But, it was a very risky method. Once the blood is removed from the cup, the owner of the red liquid will basically explode into nothingness. He doubted Voldemort would take a risk like that. The man was sly and very thinking. He planned everything out before actually going through with a plan. Why would he make a risk like the Cup of Life?
But, as much as Merlin did not want to admit it, he would prefer it for the Cup of Life to be the answer. All the other ways to immortality were… troublesome.
A voice spoke up that interrupted his thoughts.
"I didn't think you would be back so soon," said a familiar voice with a sneer.
Merlin looked up from his desk and glared at the Bloody Baron. "Sorry?"
The Baron returned the glare and stood a step - or something close to a step considering he was floating, being a ghost and all - towards Merlin. His clothes swished and Merlin flinched at the sight of the silver blood. "Don't play coy, boy. How many times have you been here over the centuries. Three? Four?"
"I don't know what you are accusing me of," Merlin replied eyeing the house ghost of Slytherin.
"Don't you think I'm stupid, Emrys," the Baron spat out the name. "Us ghosts are very… attuned to the world of the dead. We know when someone should be dead, and you should be just that ten times over."
Merlin smirked. "What proof do you have of these accusations?"
The Baron stared at the warlock with a thinking look. Crossed his arms and gave a look of victory. "Last time I saw you, you were just a little student in the 17th century. Myrddin was it? And before that in the 15th century you went by Adam, and before that, when I was still a lad. You helped found Hogwarts."
Merlin's grin widened. "Good to see you, old friend."
Both ghost and man burst into laughter. Merlin stood up from his desk and leaned against the wall. "It took you quicker to figure me out this time," he said.
"Your magic is very recognizable," the Baron shrugged. "Even that fool Nick is suspecting that there's something unique about you."
Merlin rolled his eyes. The ghosts were very perspective to say the least. They seemed to be able to sense the Old Religion, though they didn't even know it. Merlin remembered meeting Fat Friar the Hufflepuff ghost for the first time, the man was so surprised that he forgot how to float straight and he fell through the floor right into the Headmistress's (at the time) sleeping chambers as she was preparing for bed. Well, long story short: the Fat Friar gained a new fear of women that day.
He spotted the blood again on the Baron's clothes. He sighed sadly, remembering the tale. "Hows Helena?"
The Baron's eyes became distant. "Not very good. She has became rather distant in the last few years."
Merlin tilted his head in confusion. "Why? Hasn't she been doing better?"
"Oh yes she has been. Years ago she was considered the life of the party, considering that she's dead… and I was finally starting to think I could ask for her forgiveness… but then a boy showed up. I don't know what happened but ever since the boy talked to her, she spiraled into a state worse that what she had been in before. She seems obsessed with the memory of her mother, and becomes very defensive when someone mentioned Rowena's diadem."
"The diadem?" Merlin repeated, remembering the small crown Rowena Ravenclaw always wore. It was said to give the wearer knowledge beyond anything they could ever imagine. Of course that was all just hogwash, but it didn't change the fact that people beloved it. Rowena's daughter stole the diadem with the hopes that she would become filled with it's knowledge, she then hid it. Even as a ghost she never told anyone where exactly she hid it. Not even Merlin could pry it out of her.
The Baron nodded sadly. "Since then, she hates any living creature and goes out of her way to remain alone. I fear that the boy so many decades ago did something to her mother's diadem, but she won't tell me anything."
"Who was the boy?"
The Baron looked at Merlin with a thoughtful expression. "I think his name was Tom, though it was many years ago I could be wrong."
The name sent a shiver down Merlin's spine. He felt like he should recognize the name Tom. He wondered what he could have done to the Grey Lady to make her as she is today.
After a few moments of silence, the Bloody Baron sighed sadly. "Now, I must go. That Squib Filch caught Peeves throwing questionable substances at second years, so of course I have to take care of it."
Merlin nodded with a tight jaw and tried to ignore the way the ghost spat out the word 'Squib' like it was a poison. He hated this blood status fab that had appeared recently. People seem to think that if both their parents were magic, then they were more superior to children born from Muggles. He really wanted to just tell the world that he was Merlin, and that his mother was a Muggle and he was still the most powerful warlock to ever live. The reactions to the oh so noble purebloods would be totally worth giving up his identity.
The Baron nodded and went to leave the office. (More like go through the wall, but you know). But he stopped a few inches from the door and turned again towards Merlin. "Myrddin, or Emrys, or what ever you go by now, I do not know who you really are or what you are here to do. But I do know you must be back for a reason, and I trust you know what you're doing, you were the best student Slytherin ever had after all. But, tread carefully. There is many things happening in the mortal world that even a powerful wizard like you can't interfere with. Destiny is a strange thing and not easily rewritten."
"I am aware, Baron," Merlin replied. "Now, if you excuse me, I have some work I have to do," he said waving his hand to his desk.
The Baron nodded sadly. "Of course." Then he left and Merlin was left alone in his chambers once again.
Harry
The first week of school has been a very interesting one indeed, and also painfully exhausting. In just a couple days Harry found himself using every free moment he had to write essays or finishing up worksheets. He barely had time to think!
They were already practicing advanced spells in Transfiguration, and it didn't help that McGonagall wanted them to be able to cast spells without saying anything. Defence Against the Dark Arts was just dreadful. Snape would drone on about random boring things then find every excuse to piss Harry off. Charms was the main culprit of his homework, and History of Magic was getting even more complicated and harder to focus on.
Harry found that the only class he wasn't close to death in was surprisingly Potions.
Finding the Half-Blood Prince's book was surely a gift from God. The slanted cursive notes in the old Advanced Potion-Making book had saved Harry many of times. He had quickly became Slughorn's favorite student, much to the annoyance of Hermione. Well, what didn't annoy Hermione?
Ron thought the book was brilliant. The two boys would often theorize who the previous owner of it was and Hermione would roll her eyes and make a comment of how the book shouldn't be trusted. Harry wondered why she was so sceptical about the book, if was such an amazing thing to have. The scribbled notes and the added instructions, the annotations and the changes, it all was very useful, so he didn't see why Hermione was so against the book.
Ginny, of course, was angry about the book as well. Actually, she was more angry about Harry willingly following the instructions in the book more that the book itself. He couldn't blame her though, last time both of them listened to a strange book lead them to the Chamber of Secrets, almost killing them both.
But still! Because he got the book he had won a vial of Felix Felicis! Does none of his friends realize how useful the bottle of liquid luck could be in the future? They should be a bit more grateful to the Prince.
Well, besides from the book and homework, Harry had other things on his mind as well. It's been a few days since Harry's first lesson with Dumbledore, and he was still filled with what he had saw. The memory of a Ministry worker called Ogden and his visit to the house of Gaunt, or more commonly known as Marvolo, Voldemort's grandfather. The memory swam through Harry's head constantly. How Ogden came to announce a hearing for Marvolo's son Morfin, how Merope (Marvolo's daughter who was thought to be a Squib) had lived a life constantly struggling. He pondered the information Dumbledore had told him about that woman, how she drugged Tom Riddle the senior into falling in love with her. How he left before her baby was born. What bothered Harry is that Dumbledore seemed to constantly avoid the topic of the ring and his blackened arm, Harry couldn't help but think the two were connected.
Harry was suddenly made aware that someone was calling his name.
He looked up and saw that Hermione was staring at him with an exasperated face. They were in the library doing homework during a free period while sitting at their usual table. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. "Aren't you going to tell us what the lesson with Dumbledore was about?"
Ron nodded, shoving a huge book called Nonverbal Spells for Dummies away from him and brushed some red hair out of his face. "Yeah mate. It's been long enough."
Harry checked around him to make sure they were alone. After finding that they were in fact alone, he leaned over the table and so did his two friends. "Dumbledore showed me a memory of V- Tom Riddle's grandfather Marvolo," he whispered. Just in case that they were somehow heard by unwanted ears, Harry referred to Voldemort with his real name.
Hermione's eyes widened. "What happened?"
Harry quickly told what he had seen in the memory and Hermione eyes would widen with every word, then ask questions every once in awhile. Ron remained silent with a thoughtful look. Once Harry finished telling what happened, Ron breathed out.
"Bloody, You-know-who's mom was a Squib and his dad was a Muggle…"
"Did you hear Harry, Ron?" Hermione snapped. "Merope was only thought to be a Squib. Once her father and brother went to Azkaban, she became able to use magic enough to enchant Tom Riddle."
"But still, his dad was still a Muggle. You'd think he was pureblood… but he's a half-blood?" Ron asked shaking his head. "It's weird because he thinks that blood status is everything."
Harry shook his head. "It's the Death Eaters that believe that whether you're pureblood or not is worth anything. The only thing Tom wants is to have js power over death and to rid the world of Muggles and Muggleborns. Otherwise he doesn't care who you are as long as you have magic."
Hermione sighed. "Well, blood status doesn't matter anyway. What matters is why Dumbledore showed this to you."
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. He just said we had to know Vo- Tom's past, that it was important."
"Well, hopefully he will show you more next time. I don't see how this information is what we need to defeat You-know-who," Ron sighed.
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
After a few minutes of silence, the trio continued in their homework, though none of their minds were fully there. They each had different thoughts on their minds, the new information hardly made it easier to focus in their schoolwork, if anything it made it harder.
Merlin, a few minutes before.
Merlin walked into the library. He didn't have a class to teach at the present moment so he decided to spend his time studying more into what could possibly make someone immortal without consequences of the Old Religion. He had used up his own personal library and had decided to broaden his search for answers.
Since he was a teacher, he was allowed free access to the Restricted Section, so after telling Madam Pince that he will be in the forbidden-to-students section - to which he earned a suspicious glance - he started his search.
The restricted books all had an eerie feeling to them. Some even had a slight trace of Old Religion on them. Some he just knew were filled with darker magic than Morgana herself would ever attempt - which, hopefully, were filled with the answers he was looking for.
He started his search after he shrugged and grabbed the first book he saw. It was black leather and bound shut with a belt made of the same material. It had no title but it defiantly looked like it hid many secrets. As he quietly worked at the buckle holding the book shut, something caught his ear.
"Aren't you going to tell us what Dumbledore's lesson was about?"
It was the Granger girl… the one usually hanging out with Harry. He quietly put the book down and used his magic to make himself invisible. He peeked around a bookshelf and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting at a table, deep in conversation. He suddenly felt terrible. What was he doing listening in on a group of students conversation? He shook his head and was about to walk away when Harry said something that made Merlin stop in his tracks.
"There was a girl there too, Dumbledore said she was Vo- Tom's mom-"
Tom? Surely it had to be just a happenstance. He had almost forgotten about his conversation with the Baron a week before, almost. He had tried everything in his power to find the identity of the boy that made Helena the way she is now, but to no avail. He shook his head again. How could the Tom's be the same person, that would be absurd.
But he stayed and listened anyway. And it was quite the story. He felt guilty for listening in, but hey, poking his nose into people's business seemed to be 'part of his charm'. He had done it so many times back in Camelot that it seemed more like a skill than anything. How many times had snooping around saved Arthur's life? Let alone Camelot?
"Bloody, You-know-who's mom was a Squib and his dad was a Muggle…"
"Did you hear Harry, Ron?" Hermione snapped. "Merope was only thought to be a Squib. Once her father and brother went to Azkaban, she became able to use magic enough to enchant Tom Riddle."
Merlin's eyebrows rose enough to rival Gaius. They were talking about Voldemort's parents!? And what more, it seemed that Voldemort's real name was Tom as well, it didn't make sense for this Merope to be both the mother and wife to the same Tom.
He thought back to what the Baron said, that the boy Tom did something to the Grey Lady, and she has been getting defensive about her mother's diadem. But what would Voldemort want to do with Helena? It just seemed he accidentally stumbled once again into another piece of the puzzle. He walked away from the teenagers feeling content that he might have just found something out. He considered confronting Dumbledore, but thought better of it. It would very confusing for a new teacher to suddenly be asking about the most feared dark wizard. It seemed he was on his own with figuring out all this new information.
AN: Things are starting! Yay!
