"How many dead?"
Merlin's first question of many more to come was answered in the most surprising way possible.
"None," Gaius shook his head as he knelt over a shallowly breathing Arthur. "As of yet. We haven't scoured the entire village yet, though Professor Monmouth is searching." As he examined Arthur's injuries, he asked "What spell was used to create these?"
"I don't know," Arthur answered before Merlin could open his mouth, coughing slightly. "I didn't hear. Same one for both of us, though."
"I heard," Merlin responded. "Sectumsempra."
Gaius stood up straight, almost rigidly, with an expression of the utmost severity. "We need to get you to the hospital wing at once. This spell is highly dangerous and lethal. Please tell me that you attempted to heal one another."
At their nods of assent, Gaius let out a heavy puff of relief. "Thank Merlin – …well, thank someone, at the very least. Can you help Arthur up, Merlin? You may look dreadful, but I'm afraid his wounds are a bit more severe than yours."
"Told you that you looked like hell," Arthur said as Merlin rose unsteadily to his feet. He was still stable enough to lift Arthur up by the shoulders, however, slinging one of the other boy's arms around his neck. Arthur was heavier than he was, but Merlin's frame held him up without too many difficulties, even without the adrenaline that had come with their trek to Honeydukes.
"And I told you that I'm fine," Merlin made a face back, which he was sure only made his wounds look worse. Gaius only gazed at them before brusquely turning away and out of the store, calling behind him.
"There are carriages at the far end of town that are taking the wounded back to the school."
"C'mon," Merlin said quietly as Arthur sighed into his shoulder, his breath stuttering just slightly.
"How many dead?" Merlin asked the moment the carriage pulled up to the blessed sight of the castle. Agravaine was waiting near the doors, escorting a few bruised fourth years inside. He turned when he saw a bloodied up Merlin supporting a still struggling Arthur, and rushed to grab his other side. A trill of something akin to anger went through Merlin at the idea of Agravaine helping – he could do this, he'd been the one to help Arthur, to carry him, not Agravaine…
Merlin decided that he might actually have suffered a bit of brain damage from this adventure.
"How many?" He asked again, and Agravaine gave him an unreadable look.
"I haven't heard of any so far," he said. "Though if I had to hazard a guess, less than half of the students that went to Hogsmeade this morning have returned to the castle."
"Do you know – names?" Arthur asked from between them as they headed through the entrance hall. Merlin cursed himself for not asking that sooner, tingles of worry for his friends spreading throughout his body. If anything had happened to them…
"I believe Mr. Green is already in the castle," Agravaine told Arthur, who let out a heavier breath than Merlin had seen before. Relief swept through him at the news as well. "Bruises and cuts only. As for your friends, Mr. Emrys…"
Merlin's heart nearly stopped before Agravaine continued. "…I've seen both Tristan Sands and Isolde Blake already. I believe both were uninjured."
"Thank God," Merlin said faintly.
"Can you take Mr. Pendragon up the rest of the way on your own?" Agravaine asked him, and again, Merlin felt unexplained anger. "I should be waiting in the entrance hall – just in case there are any casualties."
Merlin smiled tightly, which must have looked horrendous on his marred features. He was starting to feel their pain again, and it was highly unpleasant. He swallowed some more of his own blood. "We'll be fine."
Satisfied, Agravaine nodded curtly before taking his exit. Merlin waited a moment before saying "Dick."
Arthur snorted, though it was weak enough that it worried Merlin, and, readjusting Arthur's position so that he had a firmer grip on Arthur's waist, started to pull him toward the staircases – of which there would be four before they arrived at the hospital wing. God, Hogwarts could use an elevator.
"Why is he a dick, exactly?" Arthur breathed, staggering and leaning even more heavily on Merlin. He reached his other hand out toward Arthur's abdomen, where most of the blood flow was. They were leaving quite a gruesome trail. Merlin was grateful for the talk, however; it distracted him from his throbbing head.
"He just didn't want to carry you," Merlin heaved. "Didn't want to get his cloak all dirty with your blood. Bloody pretentious, if you ask me."
"Y'know, for Slytherin, you really seem to hate Slytherins," Arthur laughed weakly as they hit the landing that led to the second staircase.
"I don't hate Slytherins," Merlin defended his House automatically. "I hate the vast majority of people. I hate members of all the Houses with equal fury."
"I'm sure you hate me more than most though, right?" Arthur said in a way that was both light and heavy, as if he wanted Merlin to say yes and no. It was confusing, was what it was.
Merlin, of course, answered the most sarcasm he could possibly bleed out. As much as was on his face, really. "You are my most hated enemy, I swear to you. When I take over the world, you will be the first to die."
"S'long as I'm special," Arthur slurred onto his neck with hints of laughter. Merlin was a bit worried that he wasn't being taken more seriously. It was like Arthur had a personality transplant from the previous year. Oh, well. He liked this Arthur better anyway.
"One more staircase to go," Merlin gasped out a few minutes later. "Can you make it?"
"I should be asking you that," Arthur blinked at him dazedly. "Hell roasted over, Merlin. Hell."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin griped at him as he pulled him upwards, further and further, until they reached the Hospital Wing door.
Arthur grinned at him in a kind of half-conscious way that was very, very worrying. "Made it."
"You're very, very worrying," Merlin told him before he snaked a hand away from Arthur's side and opened the towering double doors.
The Hospital Wing was the fullest Merlin had ever seen in in his seven years at the school, filled with members from all Houses and all years except for the very youngest. Eyes flickered to the pair of them as they entered through the doors, and Merlin pretended he didn't hear the hushed whispers that broke out. None of those who he saw were recognizable; or, at least, there was no one there he cared about. He couldn't see either Tristan or Isolde, and assumed they had been sent to their dorms if they had no injuries.
"How badly are the two of you –" A high, regal, feminine voice rang out through the din and Morgause Gorlois stepped out from behind the bed of a fourth year with a cast on her arm. "Oh, my."
"Yeah," Merlin gritted his teeth slightly. A shock of mistrust went down his spine, and he wished Alice were here instead of in Hogsmeade, even though he knew that would be where she was needed most. "A little help, if you please?"
Securing herself onto Arthur's other side; they managed to lay him down in one of the final empty beds. Merlin wondered what they'd do with the other three quarters of the student population yet to arrive, but it wasn't his most present worry.
"Is he alright?" Merlin asked as Morgause began to inspect Arthur.
"Healing spell?" She ignored him, her wand drawing down each of the lacerations. Arthur nodded and Merlin made a noise that probably resembled agreement. "Rudimentary at best, but it probably saved his life."
Merlin was met with a combination of utmost relief and spikes of fear – if he hadn't been there, if he hadn't had this strange capability for spell-less magic, Arthur would be dead. He had never felt something like this before, something that tightened up his stream for air and made his head go woozy.
She pointed her wand at Arthur without making a sound, so Merlin couldn't tell which spell she used, but the effects were instantaneous. The four parallel cuts began to stitch themselves up ever so slowly, bit by bit until they were sewn up completely. Before his eyes, they seemed to go through the healing process, and when Morgause let her wand fall to her side, they appeared as nothing more than weeks-old cuts.
"He'll have scars, of course," Morgause stared down at him without concern or empathy, just detached coolness that made Merlin's skin tingle. Arthur seemed not to have heard; his eyes and gone glassy and were drooping shut, body relaxing. Morgause must have put him to sleep. "But it could have been much worse. One of the cuts was nearly on his spleen – he wouldn't have survived without bleeding out if it had gone just an inch higher."
"Christ," Merlin whispered. Morgause, seeming to remember that he existed, turned to face him with the same blank expression.
"Same spell, I assume? Sectumsempra?"
Merlin nodded, not liking the look in her eye.
She clicked her tongue. "Facial wounds are a bit tricky. I can tell that the same healing spell was used for your cuts as his. There shouldn't be any lasting effects other than a few nasty scars – unfortunately, with magic like this; we won't be able to remove them."
If Merlin had been in the right state of mind, he might have cared, but right now, his mind was half-dead and his bones felt like water. "Just make the bleeding stop."
"That I can do," she told him before saying "Lay down; the spell will make you extremely drowsy."
There was one more spare bed next to Arthur's, so Merlin made himself comfortable, or at least as much as he could manage. The last thing he saw was Morgause's wand before his eyes fell shut and he wonderfully, gloriously, stopped feeling.
"I'm afraid to say that you'll always have those scars – there's really nothing I can do."
There were three nasty red scratches; one across his forehead, one just beneath his eyes and across his nose and cheekbones, and one lower, on his chin and lips. Other than the minor annoyance that came with moving his mouth, Merlin could hardly tell that they were there.
Except for that there was no one in the hospital wing that would meet his eyes.
"Its fine, Alice," Merlin did his best to smile at her. It was approaching eleven in the evening; she had been in Hogsmeade with those most injured and in need of immediate care for most of the afternoon. Merlin had slept for most of that time, and wouldn't let her deal with him until she had looked the rest of the wing. Merlin didn't need any help. He was fine.
Except for those three scars.
"Are you sure I have to stay?" Merlin pestered her lightly. He hadn't the chance to see any of his friends yet; he had been asking since the moment he woke up, but the only one of them in the hospital wing was Freya, who had a rather nasty bruise on her hip and was still sleeping it off. He knew the others were safe, but he needed to see them. "The cuts won't get infected, I'll be sure to take care of them properly."
Alice winced, crinkling her eyebrows together. "I still think you should stay the night…" Merlin held his breath. "…but I suppose you can leave, if you promise me that you won't do anything reckless."
"Of course I won't," Merlin swore, making an x over his chest. "Cross my heart."
"Oh, go ahead, then," Alice made a shooing motion as she smiled. Merlin would have grinned up at her as he got to his feet, but his smile probably looked more gruesome than anything. And always would.
With one last glance toward a still-sleeping Arthur, Merlin felt a stab of regret at leaving him here alone – but he would be asleep for the night, it didn't matter if Merlin was there or not. Besides, he had to somehow get rid of these awful protective feelings he had about Arthur. Just because he saved his life a couple of times…
Merlin wasn't thinking about that as he ducked out of the room of the sleeping and unconscious. There were still no reports of deaths, and although that was amazing and wonderful and many other praise-worthy adjectives, there was a part of Merlin that didn't trust it.
It was too pure, too clean – too deliberate.
But he wasn't going to think about that too deeply yet. Right now he just wanted to find his friends.
He knew that if he went down to the Slytherin common room, finding Tristan and Isolde wouldn't be hard to locate. He and Tristan had beds right next to one another, and Isolde was never far away from him. But Merlin knew they were okay, had heard about them; besides, his friendship with them was fragile, precarious and dangling on a precipice. They weren't the lifelong type.
Gwen and Leon, however…
Merlin didn't know how to find them together; they were in different houses, and although Merlin could break into them easily enough, it probably wouldn't do the students well to see a horribly scarred Slytherin student who had been accused of dark magic on multiple occasions sneaking into the place where they slept.
That was something he generally wanted to avoid.
He made it to the ground floor without encountering another soul, which he was grateful for. But he had no idea of what Hogwarts was doing at the moment, of what he could and couldn't get away with, of how his peers would be coping…
He could hear voices.
Lots and lots of voices, echoing through the hallways. It was nearing midnight; no one would have been awake, or at least out of their common rooms, on an ordinary night. But tonight was the opposite of ordinary.
Straining his ears slightly, Merlin figured out where the source of the noise was – the Great Hall. Who was in there? It sounded like it had to be quite a few people; students or professors, friendly or hostile, he didn't know. But he decided to take a chance and follow the echoes.
He was surprised at the result.
The doors to the Great Hall were wide open, the room teaming with students and teachers alike. There were so many people milling there, talking, whispering, holding each other tightly, that Merlin figured it must be the other half of the school that wasn't occupying the hospital wing. He saw a few familiar faces immediately – Mithian, Percival, Elena – and let out a small sigh of relief.
But when they turned and saw him standing in the entryway, their reactions were not the same. They were more guarded, off-center. Merlin subconsciously went up to touch the crisscrosses on his skin. He swallowed hard and through the crowds and over to them.
"Hi," he started out a bit meekly. "I'm glad all of you are safe. Do you know where Gwen – ?"
He was interrupted by Elena reaching over and touching the exact spot his fingers had just grazed with an expression on her face that was not quite revulsion; more like morbid curiousity.
"God, what happened?" she whispered. She herself had a cut directly over her eye, but it appeared to be only a normal wound, inflicted by natural causes. Percival and Mithian both seemed to be in fine condition, other than looking haggard and worn.
"You know," Merlin shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. "Stuff. How are all of you?"
"We're alright," Mithian said, not quite meeting Merlin's eye. Due to their past relationship, his new look, or something else, he didn't know. "Is Freya alright?"
"She's fine, sleeping when I left," Merlin replied. His eyes flickered to Percival. "What about you? Hanging in there?"
"He was fantastic," Elena answered fervently for her date, and he blushed slightly at her words. Merlin immediately knew he was a keeper. "I got knocked out immediately, of course, and he got me away from all of the shadowy people. Do you have any idea who they were?"
The last part was obviously directed at him, for the three of them regarded him with identical looks. It wasn't just curiosity this time, though; there was something in them that was more…judgmental. Calculating. Again, Merlin thought of Morgana.
"I'm assuming they have something to do with Cenred Taber, but I haven't heard anything specifically," Merlin shrugged. "I'm sure Kilgharrah will make an announcement. Why are we all gathered here?"
"I don't think anyone wanted to be alone," Mithian answered, and they stood in silence for a moment before Merlin decided to ask again.
"Have you seen either Gwen or Leon? I haven't seen or heard anything about them."
"They're fine," Elena reassured him. "They were in the Three Broomsticks the whole time – apparently a good deal of third and fourth years was there at the time, and they set up a kind of defense system to protect them."
"That's good to know," the thought cheered Merlin slightly. Although it still didn't account for the lack of death. The lack of death was still very much troubling him.
"There they are!" Percival, taller than the rest of them by at least a head, and in Elena's case, quite a few heads, pointed across the crowd, just past a gaggle of Ravenclaw girls all seated together. Merlin craned his neck to see the two of them, sitting alone, heads bent toward one another. They didn't look to be intimate, which was a good thing at the moment, as far as Merlin was concerned, because all he wanted to do was talk to them.
"I'll talk to all of you later," Merlin looked at his friends with what he hoped was an earnest expression. He probably failed quite spectacularly at that, but Gwen and Leon were the important issue in his life at the current moment in time.
Shoving through the crowd, he had quite a few things he wanted to say when he reached them. However, the only thing that he could get out of his mouth once he was in front of them and their gazes were reaching upward was "Oh, thank God."
"Merlin!" Gwen jumped to her feet instantaneously, Leon less than a second behind her. She had on her motherly face as she reached forward to touch his, the same way Elena did. Merlin was prepared for it this time, however, and ducked out of the way. "Merlin, what happened?"
"Bad curse," Merlin filled in the details just a bit more this time, though his elaboration skills still left something to be desired. "What happened to the two of you? Ellie told me you were in the Three Broomsticks the whole time, protecting the third and fourth years?"
Gwen nodded, still gazing concernedly up at him with tears of pity in her eyes. Merlin couldn't take it, instead turning to Leon – who, as he found, was not much better. His look was one of a kicked puppy. He answered nonetheless.
"We had most of them holed up in the back room; all of the sixth and seventh years were on a rotating guard schedule to make sure no one got inside unless they were a student. I think we saved quite a few of them by getting them inside and to safety."
"Did you hear there were no deaths?" Merlin asked. "I don't…I don't know if I can believe that, but it's true. Isn't that strange?"
Gwen and Leon exchanged a worried look. "I didn't see anyone throwing killing curses," Gwen said slowly. "I don't think it was their intent to kill us, only hurt us and scare us."
Merlin snorted. "Well, that would make sense, except for the killing curse that was thrown at Arthur and me."
Gwen blinked confusedly up at him as Leon gave him a look that wouldn't have been out of place if Merlin just casually told them that he killed a man. "You were with Arthur?"
"Yeah," Merlin shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.
"Arthur Pendragon?"
"We were together when the crossfire started," Merlin explained, defensive. "We both got hit with a pretty bad curse that nearly killed him and left me with these lovely little consolation prizes on my face."
"It's just –" Gwen bit her lip and Leon suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes. "We thought – well, not we didn't think. We suspected – no, it's not that, either. We were worried that –"
"Look, Merlin," Leon filled in when Gwen's words faltered, his face full of nothing but concern and compassion – which worried Merlin on every possible level, heart thumping faster. If Leon wasn't treating him like he was a cockroach that lived in his closet, something was very, very wrong.
"You left the Three Broomsticks right when the attacks started. You said you were meeting someone. You had just had what looked like an intense conversation with Morgana Fay. And as there's no way to positively identify any of today's attackers what with the glamour they were wearing…"
"Oh, God," Merlin whispered, suddenly tasting blood again as Leon trailed off. "You think I had something to do with it."
"No, no," Gwen spoke up, eyes wide and frightened – of what, Merlin wasn't certain. Was it him? Oh, God. It couldn't be him, could it? "It's just…we're worried, Merlin. We know you would never do something like that, but we just –"
"We couldn't ignore the facts," Leon shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, mate. But we do have to ask. Did you – did you have any idea what was going to happen?"
Merlin thought. Merlin thought about how he knew there was something off about Morgana, about her continued offers to him about meeting a friend, and about how he had almost gone to her in one moment of stupidity.
There was no more blood in his mouth, but he swallowed some anyway.
"No," he said hoarsely, not entirely sure if it was a lie or not. "No. I – No. I'm gonna, I'm gonna go now. I'm glad you're both safe, but I just – I have to go. I'm sorry."
He heard something akin to protests, but his ears just wouldn't focus in on the sound. His eyes, too, blurred with anger and fear and betrayal. That had hurt far more than any lasting impression in his skin.
Merlin didn't realize he was walking back up the four staircases to the hospital wing until he was standing just outside the door. He didn't know what exactly had led him back here – but then again, yes. He did.
"Merlin, what are you doing back here?" Alice had been bending over the bed of a fifth year student to change the dressings on their arm until she noticed him. She then stood up straight, confused and head tilted. "Do you need anything? Did any of the pain come back?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Merlin reassured her faintly. "I'm fine, Alice. Really, I am. I just –"
His eyes hit the bed where Arthur lay, still sleeping deeply, light snores issuing from his mouth. They seemed less filtered than before, and far healthier. Without waiting for Alice's response, Merlin stepped around a few of the other beds to pull out the single chair that sat at the side of Arthur's, as was mirrored by the rest of the room's, and took a seat.
He didn't look at Alice, but knew she was looking right him. He heard her sigh a little fondly before saying "I'll be up most of the night. Let me know if you need anything."
Merlin gazed down at Arthur's unconscious form before putting his head in his hands, letting his fingers knead through his hair as he let out a choked sigh.
At least there was one person who knew he hadn't been an attacker. Even if it was the last person Merlin had ever expected to know what he truly was, there was still one.