Hello everybody! My laptop, once fixed, broke again shortly after, which was why I haven't updated in so long. Alas, this meant I haven't been able to thank those who have reviewed, which I apologise most profusely for.

In the Hands of a Prophesised Vice

Chapter Nine – Downfall

The subsequent two weeks after Hermione's proposition of the Boy Who Lived teaching Defence whilst not blissful, did not pass wholly unpleasantly for Merlin, which was likely due to the minor detail that he had avoided interacting with the trio for prolonged amounts of time. After all, whilst Harry was the key to the fight with Voldemort, and thus Morgana, he was not the only reason Merlin had come to Hogwarts. All children deserve to be protected, not one.

Unfortunately, due to circumstances, Merlin was in the vicinity when Hermione brought up the idea again. Honestly, for a girl who was famed (in the school that is) for her intelligence and prowess in knowledge, and who berated her best friends for their emotional blunders, she was equally as deficient (the Warlock knew that was not the correct word to describe her, but he was not feeling all that kind towards the girl) in the area of feelings and emotions.

"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, shifting in her seat, "whether you'd thought any more about Defence, Harry."

Ron hunkered down in his seat and attempting to be subtle, said quietly: "Pince will have our heads if we're too loud. Why don't we talk back at the Tower?"

One of Merlin's eyebrows rose, impressed with the redhead's reasoning and both the voiced and voiceless points, but continued to stare down at his book, not completely feigning disinterest in the conversation.

"Since when did you ever care about disturbing the peace?" Hermione shot back.

Merlin groaned quietly. Ron's eyes flickered towards him, in a pointed glance towards the Witch, but before she could rectify the blunder, Harry spoke, unheeding of the silent conversation he had just interrupted.

"Course I have," Harry said, deliberately misunderstanding the question. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us-"

Hermione turned back to him, effectively dismissing Ron's hints at continuing the conversation in safer surroundings and without Merlin being present, drawn back into the conversation she had started.

"I meant the idea that Ron, -" Ron cast an alarmed, threatening kind of look. She frowned at him, "-Oh all right, the idea that M-" Ron kicked her, "I had then – about you teaching us."

Harry didn't answer at once, but Merlin noticed that he shot a quick glance his way before studiously returning to his book on potion ingredients. Merlin completely ignored him, and continued to 'research' ingredients for a particularly 'fiddly' Potion, where in reality he was just reading the whole book, from start to finish.

It was an interesting book on the study of a particular field of potions which induce animalistic shapes. It was rather like the Polyjuice Potion, except that was designed for human mimicry, and this one was designed for animal. He had taken it out under the pretence that the ingredients he was looking for would be in there, but in reality he was just gaining a more in depth knowledge of shape shifting. Even though it was a book on the New Magic, it might give him so helpful pointers on how to Shift, and react to the falcon better. For it was undisputed that he would fly again, for whilst it was painful it was also freedom.

"Well," Harry said slowly, finally deigning to answer Hermione's question after almost a minute of silence, "yeah, I-I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" Hermione said eagerly.

"I dunno," Harry replied. He was obviously playing for time, and he looked up at Ron.

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," Ron said, who seemed a lot keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry wouldn't start shouting again.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, again looking at Merlin before turning away.

"You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?"

"Hard to miss mate."

"But all the same," Hermione said quickly after Ron spoke, trying to distract Harry. "There's no point in pretending that you're no good at Defence against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperious Curse completely-"

"Pardon?"

Merlin finally brought his head up and looked at his study partners, totally surprised by what Hermione had just revealed. And not only that, but had mentioned as casually as if – "You've had the Imperious practised on you? On all of you?"

"We'll explain later, mate." Ron said with a wave of his hand.

"That's illegal –"

Hermione marched on, undeterred by the gaping Warlock sat diagonally from her. "You can produce a Patronus-"

"Explain later," Ron said, before Merlin had even opened his mouth.

"You can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said –"

Ron turned round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, "Yeah, What did Vicky say?"

"Ho, ho," Hermione replied in a bored voice. "He said that Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year of Durmstrang."

Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously.

"You're still not in contact with him, are you?"

"She can explain later," Merlin interrupted before Hermione retorted. He was in no mood to witness another of the frequent arguments, let alone defuse one when none of them had had the curtsey to defuse him.

She shot the Warlock a grateful look, causing the Warlock to slowly anger – to show gratitude when the same courtesy had not been given to him was appalling - ignoring Ron (who was still watching her) and said to Harry, "Well what d'you think? Will you teach us?"

"Just you three, yeah?"

Once again, he completed a side-long glance at Merlin, before quickly flicking his eyes away.

"Well," said Hermione, looking a mite anxious again. "Well... now, don't fly across the handle again, Harry please... but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort. Oh don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

Harry considered this for a moment, then said (voicing a surprisingly good point) "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you guys would want to be taught by me, 'cos I'm a nutter, remember?"

Harry's eyes rested on Merlin again, but this was one time too many for Merlin and he snapped.

"By your body's own admittance, it seems as if I am the one stricken with madness yonder. Why do you keep on gazing at me so?" Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Merlin cut him off, continuing as another question popped into his mind. "And why haven't you answered the proposed inquiry thus? It's obvious that you have already decided to teach those who wish to be taught. Now you are prolonging our suffering. Why?"

A flush of embarrassment, and a terrible excuse on the tip of the tongue. Merlin would not stand for the rudeness again however, and stood up, giving in to his frustration. Clearly, despite the trio's pleas for help – even if Hermione's was rather stilted in comparison – the studying was done for the night.

"It is clear what has been decided. There is no need to inform me as to whence the meeting shall occur. Good evening."

He picked up his book and slotted it back in its place in the bookcase, taking care not to damage the tome.

"You're leaving? But you haven't explained to me about –"

Merlin softened momentarily upon Ron's plea, remembering the –admittedly poorly executed – manner in which he had tried to spare him from Hermione's ongoing crusade.

"My apologies, but Hermione should be an adequate substitute. She has helped before, has she not?"

"Yes but –"

"Myrddin – please." Hermione looked up at him, pleading.

"I am leaving. Do not detain me further."

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, both perplexed and frustrated.

"Because," Merlin replied, turning to walk away, "You need to learn that in your single minded determination to complete your goal, the ones you deem unimportant and left by the wayside will be the key to your downfall later."

Merlin groaned.

It was late, and freezing rain was lashing down outside, a state which would never have bothered him in his youth, but now he was an old, old man and he liked his comforts. He didn't want to return to the Gryffindor Common Room – he had taken solace in its empty status at supper but now that it was late evening, it would be heaving with students. It meant that he would have nowhere to let loose the anger that was pent up inside him.

For a moment, he wondered if his anger was truly justified, but that thought died a fearsome death when he recalled all of the slights his fellow pupils had dealt him, and it rose fiercely once more. The common room was out then: his cover would be blown too early in the year and he was in no mood to deal with the fall out the revelation would undoubtedly cause.

His hawk flashed into his mind, along with the Unicorns seconds later, but he dismissed the pleasure of their company. The night will be long, wet and cold, and they would have taken shelter respectively: it was likely he would never be able to find them and remain dry at the same time.

His stomach rumbled, and his question was answered.

Entering the Kitchens, silence fell upon the room like a blanket, and although the pots and pans continued to simmer and sizzle, the sound seemed muffled somehow. A sea of miniature figures as swivelled as one to face the entrance, drawn like a moth to a flame, an action that a bystander would be unable to explain, but one that Merlin could answer: they could feel his magic, taste it.

They could sense he was kin to the Old Religion.

One lone elf ventured forwards, intent on his mission, muttering aloud to himself.

"I can smell it, I can taste it, oh yes Fyred can." A tongue flickered out to taste the air, and then the leathery skin cracked to show a wide smile, with the eyes crinkling at the corners. "And I have been blessed; yes I have, to have met thee thrice in a life. I welcome, thee, Master Emrys."

A moment, where nobody dared to breathe, and then the sea swelled towards him, only broken by a sole elf that remained seemingly unaffected and continue his intense conversation with a girl, a human girl, their presence a rock amid the ocean.

"Master Emrys?" A House Elf breathed in surprise, dropping the chef knife from his hand, the utensil narrowly missing the tiny feet protruding from his lithe body.

"Emrys?" A House Elf muttered, from further back.

"Master Emrys?"

"Emrys?

"The Emrys?"

Merlin's True Name rebounded around the Kitchen, with all of the occupants mouthing the name, savouring the power it held, relishing the dusting of magic it gave the speaker. The sea surged, regaining momentum and noise too, as the Elves pushed, desperate to talk to him, to offer their services, to touch him, to speak to him. And Merlin let them. Normally, he didn't like people swooning at his name and his power because he was from a legend, but House Elves were different; They were old, old creatures, and many had met him before. To most, he was an old friend, and to the rest, he was a figure shrouded in mystery, who received stories about him whilst they worked.

Soon, he was reacquainting himself with the inhabitants of the Kitchens, and renewing friendships. Each time one came up to him, they would exchange stories and Merlin would enquire about their family, before they went on their way. After all, most knew him well enough to know that he didn't like that much attention. Sadly though, the memo had not reached five young Elves, barely freed from their cradles that latched onto the Warlock with all their strength. Only until he had acknowledged their family and their connection to him did they relinquish their grip, but they didn't stray too far, and found reasons for doing so. Their relatives watched on in fond amusement, many of them also feeling a tinge of embarrassment for behaving in the same manner when they too, met the living legend.

But eventually, he was free, only taking one word to remove the crowd completely from the immediate vicinity.

"Could-"

"Of course, Master Emrys!" Áfyred spoke, anticipating what Merlin was going to ask for before he had finished speaking. "Your favourites are coming right up!"

The Ancient Warlock was quickly hurried to a seat with exclamations of "Forgive our rudeness, Master Emrys", "Taste mine, it's improved" and variations thereof. He laughed loudly and freely when they served him rat strew knowing full well the memories it held for him. The laughter died however, when he realised who the other human in the kitchen was. Thankfully however she remained distracted by who seemed the only House Elf to remain unaffected by the kindred spirit seated next to him. Yet it seemed to fit as he surveyed the creature, noting the five different woollen hats he was sporting on his knobbly head, in conjunction with multiple sets of mismatched socks which seemed strangely familiar to him.

After he had finished his supper, Merlin absentmindedly handed Áfyred his empty bowl of tomato and basil soup which had been wiped clean by the freshly baked bread which had been provided for him, instead staring at the House Elf who was still interacting with the only other Human (though Merlin reminded himself that he wasn't quite sure that he was in the category, not any more) who was sitting opposite him.

"Curious," He said to himself.

"Pardon sir?"

"I am certain I have never met him before, and yet he seems immune to me."

Áfyred drolly replied. "Considering your response, how unusual it must be, for someone to be able to resist you. Why, I'm flattered that we're on first name terms, me being only a lowly House Elf."

Merlin snorted. "You know what I mean. It's not necessarily a bad thing, simply curious. Pray tell: his name?"

"Dobby. He's new." The shortness of Merlin's of the Elf's voice surprised him. He thought he would have overcome the prejudice by now, but seemingly not. Clearly House Elves were not the only followers of the Old Religion who become stuck in their ways.

"Just because he's been freed doesn't make him abnormal, Áfyred. You should know that."

"Still, it was rude and improper to not introduce himself to you. Dobby," He called, getting off his seat, "Come here, will you?"

Before Merlin even had time to open his mouth to object, the girl had looked up and Dobby had run over, and bowed to the Warlock, and then to his fellow Elf. "Yes?"

"You haven't paid respects to our guest. This is Master Emrys."

"Dobby is most sorry about this. Dobby must punish himself!" The House Elf decreed, bowing low again to Merlin before proceeding to reach for a (thankfully empty) frying pan, where it was obvious that he was going to hit himself on the head with it. Acting faster than a mortal could, Merlin reached out and grabbed the House Elf, before making him firmly stand still on the spot.

"It's quite alright, Dobby, I don't mind." Merlin smiled down at the House Elf, who froze, before smiling back slowly in relief.

"Now Dobby, I think you have spent enough time talking with the student, it's time you returned to your work." Áfyred said, before proceeding to direct orders with what the Elf was supposed to do.

After he sent Dobby off, he came back to Merlin. "I'm sorry about Dobby, Master Emrys. He is somewhat of a misfit... as he's being paid to work!" Áfyred shuddered, as if the very thought repulsed him, making Merlin laugh.

But quickly however, Merlin sobered up and said; "Don't be too harsh on him, friend. It is healthy to have dreamers, believers and idealists in your society. For do you not believe and worship the one who saved your mother when you threatened her life so?"

"Indeed I did," Áfyred acknowledged. "But I distinctly remember there being no instructions to worship the menial helper who presided over my birth. He bowed, his head almost touching the floor in apparent reverence of once more meeting the man whom had delivered him, though Merlin knew that he was putting it on. "Now, if you excuse me, Master Emrys, I have some cooking to prepare - I believe a midnight feast is being prepared for in the Hufflepuff Tower."

With that, Áfyred swept away to various stations in the kitchens, issuing orders and tasting recipes to his heart's content as part of his duties as being Head Chef. But that meant leaving Merlin with the only other human in the kitchen.

"I was wondering when we would meet again." The mad girl stared at him dreamily, a half formed smile on her lips.

Merlin fought the urge to show discomfort at the eerie gaze, instead opting to say nothing. He was unwilling to say anything when she would likely tear the words apart to extract information he had no wish to give in the first place.

"I see." She stepped forward and offered her hand. "A sound tactic, but only when involving those who are less observant. Which to you and I, are most people I suppose. Anyway – I'm Luna."

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but bent to kiss her head anyway. "Some might say you are arrogant."

Luna laughed. "Only due to your own actions. I was offering my hand to shake. It was you who raised my status to that of a noble."

Despite that not being what Merlin was referencing – he was curious about her comment on observance – he still felt awkward by the accidental faux pas he had created. Customs in this century were so difficult to remember.

"Surely it is a compliment that I thought of you as one?"

She stood still, pondering the question. "I suppose it depends which century noble you thought of me as. It's not that nice being a noble in Revolutionary-era France now, is it? That implies you wish me dead."

He thought his suspicions had been confirmed as she spoke, but she carefully avoided the subject he was trying so hard to establish and startled him into snorting with the opinion on the subject.

"That I do not. " The yet remained unspoken, but by the way she surveyed him with her head tilted to the side, he suddenly wondered if the Triple Goddess had enabled her to read the thoughts of others.

She blinked and her face momentarily scrunched up. She stumbled back slightly, before catching herself on the table both had been eating their separate meals at only a short while before.

"Luna?" Merlin asked, reaching out to her, "Are you okay?"

"I – yes. A Wrackspurt got me by surprise, that's all - wasn't expecting it you see, but it makes sense now really if you think of the possibilities and then I tripped on my shoelaces."

"Wrackspurt?"

Ignoring his question, she turned around, purposely avoiding his still outreaching arms, and instead called out "Dobby?"

The House Elf was by her side in an instant. "Yes Miss – oh is Miss Luna suffering from one of her migraines again? Dobby shall fetch her some more special tea, yes he will for lovely, kind, sweet -" Merlin had the feeling the House Elf could go on all night with the flattering adjectives he was wielding on behalf of the girl. "- gentle Miss Luna."

"Yes please, Dobby." Merlin said. The House Elf turned to leave, but stopped when Luna called him again, now standing as if nothing had ever happened.

"I thought you had cleared the infestation of Wrackspurts that were here, Dobby?"

The House Elf looked guilty for a second, a flash of pain crossing his leathery features before saying in a bright voice; "Yes I did Miss, but perhaps they have regained a foothold. Dobby will gladly rid them of the kitchen after he has brought the tea and punished himself for his mistake –"

"That will not be necessary," Luna interjected, smiling. "I quite understand. But the tea – if you will? May I have it in a flask of some kind – I am feeling quite tired now."

The House elf scuttled out of sight. Almost timidly, Merlin offered the girl his arm. "I will escort you to your Dormitory, if you approve of my offer."

"I would most gladly accept you offer of company, it's very gallant of you." She slipped her arm in-between his and together, their steps in unison, they made their way to the exit. They were stopped by Áfyred along the way, who bowed facetiously, eying the Warlock for the inevitable dislike of respect towards him the display always garnered.

"Dobby has informed me of the tea you wish to consume Miss," he spoke to Luna. "However we have run out and the fresh brew shall take ten minutes to complete. We shall send it to you when it is ready."

"Thank you," She said happily. "Please tell Dobby that would be a great help."

"And food was wonderful, friend. I shall visit soon."

"I cannot wait," The Elf replied drily.

The two students were silent as they walked away from the kitchens, and unsurprisingly, Luna broke it first.

"I assume you are here for Harry Potter."

"And why do you presume that?"

She shrugged. "Many people are here for Harry Potter, but they differ in their choice of hindering or helping him."

"And which do you think I shall do?"

"What you've always done, of course."

"That," Merlin told her, "Wasn't an answer."

She smiled again, her bright eyes appearing luminous in the dark, but stayed quiet, content instead to simply watch him. He sighed.

"Your assumption is correct."

She smiled and nodded to herself. "Of course it is. I was the one who made it, and I'm always right."

She sounded almost bitter then, an emotion which did not seem to suit her, even though Merlin had only known her for all of thirty minutes by this point. In an effort to cheer her up -for he had been enjoying her quick wittered comments and quirks – he asked her to prove it.

"Very well. What would you like to know?"

"Who am I?"

She stopped at this, and turned to face him. She stood there, bathed in the moonlight and gazed at him, and her silvery eyes were pierced into the Warlock. He shivered, feeling naked and exposed under her gaze, and small, like a child.

"Such knowledge has broken those men lesser and greater than you or I." There was a warning in her voice, and Merlin, in all of his arrogance and foolishness, ignored it.

"I am not a man."

"And there you are wrong, or right depending on how you measure a man's worth."

"Is that your answer to my question?"

She sighed, and her eyes softened minutely. "You are someone who was born in war, and who lives and breathes it. You are a soldier, but a soldier with no commander is a dangerous one. In your loneliness, you have appointed yourself as the judge, jury, and executor, unfailing in the cruel punishments you have dealt to the innocent and guilty alike -"

"I have never... hurt an innocent!" Merlin cried, a cold wind whooshing down the passageway, twisting and knotting Luna's dress.

"I suppose that depends on your definition, doesn't it," Luna panted, her eyes flashing in anger. "Control yourself Emrys."

Merlin stopped at the voice. The voice that –

"Luna?" He asked tentatively.

The girl blinked her hair in tangles around her face, her chest heaving. Then her eyes flew open and her pupils were wide and unseeing.

"I- I'm sorry." She said, speaking to herself. "I – I don't know what came over me."

Her voice was soft and scared, so unlike the tone she had taken with Merlin mere moments before.

"Are you okay Luna?"

She blinked again, and this time her eyes focused on him.

"Leave me."

Merlin reached out, still unsure of what was going on, only that the voice she had spoke in was so unlike her own, but that of another. An other. But she flinched away from his hands, and stumbled back, re-enacting the scene which had happened earlier in the kitchens.

Then a crack! Followed by a cheery "Miss Lovegood?"

Dobby appeared, and handed her a flask containing the tea which apparently helped with her migraines. Migraines.

Merlin froze for a second, putting the pieces together. The voice of the Triple Goddess was speaking to her, rebounding through her head. For anybody, even him, the experience would be painful enough, but to be young and mortal... Luna was young, younger than Merlin currently was, and her mind had not fully matured yet... She couldn't contain the power.

Whilst Merlin was in the middle of his revelation, Luna had accepted the offering from Dobby. Without looking back towards the Warlock, the girl turned, looking eerily like a spectre with her pale skin and modest silvery gown, and continued the walk to the Tower on her own, her bare feet making no noise against the floor.

Merlin and Dobby stood watching her go, the House Elf rocking on his heels the whole time. And when she had finally disappeared around the corner, he let out a way and swivelled, moving to bash his head on the stone wall.

"Dobby – Dobby STOP!" Merlin commanded, struggling to hold the wiggling elf in his arms. "Why are you punishing yourself?"

The Elf twisted, to gaze up at the Warlock. His eyes were sad, and he cried out mournfully "Because I is a bad Elf and I lies."

Merlin frowned, and opened his mouth to command the Elf to tell him what in Camelot's name he was talking about, but he was too late, and with another CRACK the Elf disappeared again back to the Kitchens. He made to move after him but couldn't –

Because a voice similar to the one that Luna was experiencing reverberated around his head, taking complete control of his body and forcing him to stay still.

Leave her, Emrys. She is not yet ready, and the Time had not yet come. Leave her, Emrys, in peace.

So that's it! A long one, which you all probably shall love. I shall update in the next two weeks, it is likely. Anyhow, have a lovely day!