A/N: Hi there, reader! I've been a lazy writer... but on the good effect I became a perfect student, doing the 24/7 cramming and all. Now I have summer holidays and it's time to do my story-writing magic.
Christmas was coming - it wasn't called that in Ealdor, but the celebrating was quite similar in some aspects. Mostly the eating part. Merlin had written so many letters to their mother, that he was surprised that his fingers weren't constantly blue with ink-stains any way. Sherlock had been lurking in the library more often than before, but what would be nicer than sit together in candlelight, while Merlin wrote the letters and Sherlock read the thick, forgotten books?
"Hey! You two, what are you doing here?" Ah, Ron Weasley. Always so suspectful.
"I'm studying", Sherlock's bored voice answered, "and Merlin writes a letter. To our mother."
Hermione sat next to Merlin and tried to see Sherlock's book better.
"What is that book about, I've never seen that one before?"
Nosy ones, the Gryffindors. Why was it always the Gryffindors? Sherlock lifted the book so the girl could see its cover. Encyclopedia Anthophilae - Bees, Bumblebees and Magical Bees of the World
"Bees? What subject are you studying about them for?" Nosy Gryffindor.
"None," Sherlock answers, feeling slightly frustrated already.
"But... you said you were studying." Annoying, nosy Gryffindor.
"For myself."
Harry could sense the irritation radiate from the Slytherin boy. The candlelight seemed to change color from homey orange to cold gold, but that probably was just his own imagination. However, he decided to change the subject, to prevent all incidents possible.
"Hermione, I thought we were in hurry?"
"Oh! We are, actually. Well, it was nice to chat with you two! We'd better go now..."
Merlin raised his gaze from the letter and nodded politely at the trio, but the second they disappeared from his sight, he made a face.
"Were they here for a long time?
Sherlock snorted.
Merlin's letters came always a day late, but still, that was a lot faster than delivered by owls. No, her sons used dragons to deliver their mail... Well, Sherlock had tried to use bees, but they were too tiny to carry parchments. Hunith smiled at the thought of her two sons - special, unique ones - as she opened the letter that had just landed on her lap.
Dear Mother,
we miss you and our village terribly, but we need to learn the things this place could possibly give us to learn. We have seen the Forest and sought for comfort in her arms.
Sherlock's magic already forms small, shadowy barrages - perhaps he's learning to control his powers? I, on the other hand, feel like my magic is forming something like a... like a dollop inside me, ready to burst like the fireworks we saw in Essetir.
I hope this is temporary.
Tell me, how things are in there, and as usual, tell if you need to get something when we come home for summer. We have already bought all the things you have asked for.
~Merlin
~Sherlock
The Room of Requirement was full, and the practice was going well. Even Neville Longbottom was progressing and Harry beamed at his... his class. Students from all Houses ready to fight if it ever came to that. It was a small miracle, to have even Slytherins with them, but when he heard the two brothers talk to each other, he was just happy they were in same side.
Some of the group weren't so happy about Merlin and Sherlock's presence, but as Hermione had explained, they could prove themselves useful.
"This is becoming almost a tradition", the Weasley boy huffed sarcastically as they watched golden-eyed Sherlock slouch in the corner. Merlin hissed at the red-headed boy and turned back to his brother, trying to loose his tie and make him more comfortable.
"Sherly, if you can hear me... Please, let it flow. As soon as the prediction comes out of you, you'll wake up," he pleaded in language he thought to be English, but later was told to be like... dragon noices and Merlin shivered slightly. Was he becoming a dragon of all things?
Sherlock, at the moment, didn't seem to hear anything, but his eyes flicked back and forth as if he was dreaming. His mouth opened slowly and everyone came closer to hear his words.
"Oh, how it burns my ribs and how it bends my soul! Let this be my final throe. Please, send me your green fire and let me become a relic in my marble casket."
The whole room was quiet and Merlin felt awful - was his brother speaking of himself or someone else - but Sherlock didn't wake up; no, his eyes were still of golden hue and they all saw that there was an another divination coming to public.
"You, who have crowned yourselves as samildánachs think you know everything of all things - fine, fine - answer, why does this man bleed in death? Let the true seer syllabify the verity for your ears; he is attacked by a hell-forged shape of a man who dresses in a snake-skin and speaks the language of the green."
There was two pearly shadows hovering upon Sherlock's body, ready to disappear to the thin air, but the boy's curly locks were damp with sweat and his already pale skin was now almost yellow. His brother was very scared - actually, to be honest, Merlin was in panic. Was Sherlock dying? Why was he dying? What would their mother say? Suddenly he felt two pairs of comforting hands around him and he saw that they were walking in a corridor, to the Hospital Wing.
A/N: Yes, there is a reason to give this many predictions, and yes, they all are important. Let's gather them all in here.
1# "The shattered one will once again come back to life. O behold! The green lights will shine upon the scorching ruins and shrinking rivers - finally at the end of all things, there will no longer be place called Ealdor."
2# "Hark! The forgotten ideas are walking in the darkness and the pink hazard will swirl like an everlasting tornado through the one and only sanctuary in this country. Do our gods hear at all, how we cry out in pain? The quiet room will be listening, but who will save the living?"
3# "Oh, how it burns my ribs and how it bends my soul! Let this be my final throe. Please, send me your green fire and let me become a relic in my marble casket."
4# "You, who have crowned yourselves as samildánachs think you know everything of all things - fine, fine - answer, why does this man bleed in death? Let the true seer syllabify the verity for your ears; he is attacked by a hell-forged shape of a man who dresses in a snake skin and speaks the language of the green."
