A/N: Wewt, new chapter finally. Yeah, sorry it's taken so long but I've just started university. I will continue updating as regularly as I can though, so don't worry. Writing this is a relaxation method for me, so I wouldn't be surprised for rapid updating over an exam period. That being said, on with the chapter, and reviews are cookies which are love!

When the two Halliwell brothers turned into the corridor in which the Potions classroom was located, they both noticed that they were two of roughly only a dozen students who were able to take the class at NEWT level. What this said about the Owl examination, Chris wasn't entirely sure, but it did suggest to him that he should probably start creating his own stock of healing potions, just to be on the safe side. From what students' ties told Chris, thatalong with himself, Wyatt, and the Golden Trio, four Ravenclaws, four Slytherins, and one Hufflepuff would also be taking the class for this year. The Hufflepuff, Ernie, Chris thought, had pushed his way over to speak with Harry, but hadn't got very far in his conversation as the dungeon door opened, and Slughorn peered out to welcome them all in. Chris scowled deeply.

There was no way he was going to enjoy having an overgrown walrus as a teacher.

Compared to what Chris could remember of his first lesson in the room from the previous year, it looked as though Slughorn had already done the class work for them. The class took different tables, with the four Ravenclaws and four Slytherins taking a table each for them. The Golden Trio sat with Ernie, which left Chris and Wyatt on their own, at the table nearest the door. This, Chris thought, would work well if Wyatt got any odd plans. He was fairly certain he could take his brother on in a fist fight, maybe.

"Now then, now then, now then," Slughorn said. Chris fought not to roll his eyes. He wasn't even in the class five minutes, and already he wanted to smack his teacher. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion Making..." Chris exchanged glances with Wyatt who shrugged. Neither of them had any of the books for this year. Now, in Potions at least, it didn't really matter. Between what they had both learned from the Book of Shadows, Magic School, as well as their mother and her sisters, they had more than enough Potion knowledge to rewrite the course in a way which would probably let more students into the N.E.W.T class. In theory, at least; though Wyatt certainly had the knowledge, he never seemed any good at practical potions, or even cooking for that matter. Conversely, these were the areas in which Chris excelled without much of an effort. He felt it was the universe's way of trying to make up for being the 'baby brother' of the Twice-Blessed.

"Now then, I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know," Slughorn said, moving the front of the class so that everyone could clearly see him. He really was the type of enjoy being at the centre of attention, Chris thought. "These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?" He asked, directing everyone's gaze to the cauldron sitting nearest the Slytherin table. Chris craned his neck slightly, looking at the potion with a guarded interest. It appeared to be nothing more than plain water boiling away.

"Veritaserum," he muttered softly, as Slughorn called on Hermione who, as anyone who knew even the slightest bit about the girl could tell you, gave the correct answer. She did the same for the next potion they were called upon to name. Admittedly, Polyjuice Potion was one of the few Chris didn't have any reasonable knowledge of, outside its ability to change a person's looks. He had heard, from some of the Death Eaters who had used the potion over the summer that it was incredibly foul, and the process of changing was very painful. It made Chris glad that he was able to cast glamours on himself, as he really didn't like the sound of the potion.

The third cauldron caught Chris' attention. Amortentia. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world," Hermione informed the class. Chris looked at the contents of the cauldron with a careful gaze. It was a very attractive looking potion. He supposed this was meant to relate to the idea that love was something deeply desirable, that all peoples should attain in their lifetimes. He resisted the urge to let out a disdainful snort. He liked the concept of love, he supposed, but he doubted it was meant for him, not while he was playing conscience for his seemingly amoral big brother. "It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and -" Hermione turned pink, and cut herself off. Chris gave a soft chuckle, forcing himself to at least try to block out the faintly sweet smell he was getting, realizing grimly that a person could go made trying to find the matching scent.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture of imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession," Slughorn explained to the room at large. Wyatt looked quite impressed by this, causing Chris to make a mental note, reminding himself to never let Wyatt get his hands on this potion. He had enough followers as it was. "It is probably the most dangers and powerful potion in this room." Okay, now Chris was adamant that he was never letting Wyatt get his hands on any of this stuff; it would not work out for the best. "And now, it is time for us to start work."

Chris was ready to throttle Ernie when he spoke up, mentioning the small black cauldron sitting on Slughorn's desk. Slughorn, however, looked decidedly pleased. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis." Chris' face fell, and he swallowed nervously. Liquid luck. And, of course, Hermione knew what it was and was more than willing to share with everyone else. Chris slumped down in his seat, a strong desire to repeatedly hit his head off the hard work surface running through him. He didn't listen as Slughorn explained about the potion, Chris already knew about it. He had found out about it the year before, during one of his many skipped classes spent lazing around in the back of the library. "And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

Chris sat straight up. This pretty much confirmed all this thoughts about Slughorn. The man was an idiot. He listened to the explanations of what they had to do, noting with a grimace that the prize would either go to himself or Hermione. Actually, when he thought on it, it was more likely he would win due to Hermione's reluctance to go against the instructions way of making the potion. Much to his disappointment, Wyatt seemed to be aware of this fact as well.

"Win that," Wyatt hissed, his tone making it clear that it was in no way a request. Chris closed his eyes breathing deeply as he got to work. He could win it easily; the Draught of Living Death was one of those little potions he'd be making far too often lately, so it wasn't like he didn't know the quickest ways of getting the best results. If he did win, he wouldn't get the keep the potion, as nice as the thought of having a draught of it sounded. No, Wyatt would take it from him and use it for whatever aim he was considering most important that month, resulting in disaster for everyone who wasn't in his favour. If he didn't win, well, it'd make the black eye and split lip look like nothing. He considered every way he knew on how to sabotage the potion, trying to work out which ones in particular wouldn't seem like sabotage but rather a simple mistake anyone could make.

The answer stood out blindingly bright in his mind. Miscounting the stirs.

It could be done, Chris knew it, and in the steam of the dungeons it was easy to take a miscount as a genuine mistake, rather than a deliberate one. He would need to time it carefully as he seemed to be ahead of everyone else in the class. Again. It was a common occurrence for him, one that he was getting annoyed by, but that there wasn't much he could actually do about it. He paused when it came to stirring, looking into his cauldron as though he were simply inspecting the contents carefully, in the manner that Potions students were often advised to do. For the most part, this was what he was doing; it just happened that he was also focusing on which way to begin his stirring so as to make the potion not work.

Soon enough though, he worked it out, and began to stir incorrectly, going only in one direction, and not allowing time for settling between stirs. Inside, he was kicking himself for his actions. He hated mis-making potions, even if it was for a good reason. It just didn't seem right to him, though that could be because Potions were 'his thing', so to speak. Still, he couldn't let Wyatt get his hands on a bottle of Felix Felicis, the consequences of it were too dire for Chris to want to imagine.

"And time's ... up! Stop stirring, please!" Slughorn called. Chris bit back the sigh that wanted to come out when he glanced at Wyatt's potion. It wasn't a bad attempt, fairly good for a first try, but it certainly wouldn't win the potion. Chris' own, much to his displeasure, was actually better than he thought it might end up. His must have thrown in the right number of stirs without realising somewhere along the process of making it. It was very near what the finished result would look like, something which Slughorn noted with a pleased noise as he passed by, inspecting each cauldron. It was with a great sense of relief that he couldn't help but smile when Slughorn declared Harry as the winner of the potion.

Of course, it figured that the Boy Wonder would be the one to win.

He left the dungeon quietly, following behind Wyatt, wondering what his elder brother was thinking. His face had become – for a moment – frightening when Harry had been announced as the winner, but it had quickly been replaced with the image of a student happy for a fellow classmate. But Chris had caught the look, and knew that bad things were due to come his way as a result. He could only hope Wyatt would buy simply miscounting the stirs.

Wyatt walked through the school, Chris following, bypassing the Great Hall and leading them down a deserted corridor. He turned, and fixed Chris with a stony glare. "You did that on purpose didn't you?" he hissed, his voice filled with venom. Obviously, going more than an hour without having any underlings to torture was not good for Wyatt's temperament, being stuck in a school, having to follow rules, and pretend to be innocent and good just made it worse. "Made it so I wouldn't get my hands on the potion?"

"Why would I do a thing like that Wy -"

"Don't lie to me!" Wyatt snapped, punching the wall beside Chris' head. "I'm not the simple mark you seem to think me Chris," Wyatt said. "I came to this school in good faith that you were under extreme stress, only to find that you were throwing nothing more than an immature temper tantrum because some teacher pressed the button on your mommy issues." Chris stared up at his older brother, not daring to speak out against what he was saying. "It is though you were deliberately trying to remove me from my position, something to which I do not take lightly," he said, raising his fist. Chris closed his eyes.

"Halliwells!" McGonagall's voice was sharp in the quiet of the corridor. "Why are you not in the Hall with the others?" she asked, looking at them over the top of her glasses with narrowed eyes. She took in the situation carefully, but made no noticeable expression as to whether she knew what was going on. "And Christopher," she said, Chris grimaced – she always used his full name when she wanted to seem more authoritative – "do remember that you have a detention tonight with Professor Turner. Immediately following dinner, in fact. And no, you may not accompany him, Wyatt Halliwell," she said, turning her gaze on Wyatt and cutting him off before he could ask the obvious question. "To dinner, both of you, immediately."

With that, Wyatt and Chris were hurried into the Great Hall. Chris didn't think he'd ever been so thankful for nosy teachers.

xXx

"You know, somehow I just knew you'd show up Minnie," Chris said, on walking into his 'detention' and see McGonagall sitting behind the desk. Cole was standing over at his bookcase, idly flicking through an old looking tome. "And something also tells me that you popping up in that corridor early wasn't just a happy coincidence." Cole turned to looked at McGonagall, who didn't flicker. Chris sat down heavily in the chair that sat in front of the desk. "There's not a lot I can tell you, and even less that I'm willing to share, so why don't we just get this over and done with?"

"Who is he?" McGonagall said. Chris gave a scathing look. "Apart from your brother I mean. I know he's more than what he's letting on, so I would think it wise you share this information with us," she said, keeping her gaze level with Chris'. He had been right, you really couldn't get anything by her.

"That's one of those little things that I can't tell," Chris said. "Little bit of a magically inclined curse," he added, smirking over at her. "I try to tell you, and unpleasant things happen to me." McGonagall stared at him.

"Is that the truth?"

"Do you honestly think I'll tell you either way?" Chris countered. She continued to look at him, before sighing slightly, and looking away. Cole had come over in the meantime, and lifted Chris' chin, looking at the injuries on his face.

"So, he's hitting you now," Cole said slowly, keeping the anger out of his tone. Chris wrenched his face from Cole's grip, directing his gaze to the ground in the hopes that it would make Cole give up on getting an answer from him. Cole didn't try to get an answer from Chris again, he already knew Wyatt was the one who gave him the injuries; the simple fact was that no one else in the school would dare to even saying a wrong word to Chris, hitting him was something completely unheard of amongst the student body of Hogwarts.

"I highly expect that was what I stopped him from doing earlier today," McGonagall informed Cole, though still looking directly at Chris. "Would this be correct, Chris?" she asked, in a tone that showed she was determined to get some information out of the younger Halliwell on his elder brother, no matter how superficial said information may be. Chris still didn't answer though, largely out of plain stubbornness, though both she and Cole suspected that there was a large amount of family loyalty stopping him from talking as well.

"Are you going to tell us anything Chris?" Cole asked. There was still no answer. Cole pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why was it that when it came to his brother, it was then and only then that they didn't have a single problem in getting Chris to be quiet for longer than five seconds, just as they wanted him to be talking. It was either irony, or proof that Chris really had inherited the stubbornness from all three Charmed Ones. He and McGonagall exchanged glances, wondering what they could do to try to get Chris to tell them anything relating to Wyatt.

"I'm going to bed," Chris said, breaking his silence. "Or to the dorm," he amended, realising it was early on in the evening. "No, I mean bed, I..." he sighed. "Just, I know you both want answers that I can't give you right now." He looked down at the ground, picking at the hem of his top. "It's just, if I told you everything right now, there'd be a lot of problems further on down the line, and I'm trying to stop that happening. Just... just let me do what I've got to do. For the Greater Good." His tone was so earnest that it would have been hard not to believe him. He stood, and quietly left the room.

"You believe him?" Cole said quietly, looking at the door. McGonagall allowed herself a wry grin.

"Not one single word," she said, "but I rather think that's the reaction he's expecting."

xXx

Chris' sleep that night was seemingly fitful, with him constantly tossing and turning in his bed. Dog looked up at his master with concern, nudging at one of his hands with a cold, wet nose. Which was unusual for a hellhound to possess, but Dog was in the guise of a normal, everyday, household pet dog after all. He licked at the hand of his master, knowing that the bruises came from the hands of his master's brother, someone who Dog did not like in the slightest. He considered biting the other boy, but knew his master wouldn't like it. He sat at the side of the bed, watching as his master tossed and turned, wondering what trouble he was facing in his dreams.

"You know, I thought you'd be taller," the dark haired boy said to Chris, earning a glare in return. "Oh, and we're a little bit rude, aren't we?" The boy laughed, seemingly delighted by this. "And I kept telling him he was the bigger prat of us two. If he was aware of this, there'd be no living with him anymore." Chris frowned over at the youth, confused by him, not to mention what he was saying. The boy looked to be roughly the same age as him, perhaps a little older, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, which Chris would have sworn occasionally turned gold. His face held humour, with a gently mocking grin, which was spread wide in Chris' direction.

"Who are you?" Chris asked, "and why do I feel like I know you?" He blinked after asking this particular question, realising very quickly that he was dreaming. Except... at the same time he was well aware that he wasn't dreaming, that this conversation was really taking place.

"You mean you haven't worked it out yet?" The boy sounded very amused by it all. "I had hoped you'd know by now," the boy seemed disappointed by this, and his smile fell slightly. "Oh well. You can call me Emrys," he said, his smile suddenly back, and brighter than it was before, if that were possible. Chris frowned, recognised the name, and trying to place it.

"...You're Merlin," he said, very slowly, just in case he was wrong. The boy, Merlin, brightened considerably.

"I knew you'd work it out," he said, sounding very pleased indeed."I told Arthur you'd work it out faster than he thought you would. Stupid prat should have never have made that bet with me," he added with a sly grin. Chris had to blink a few times. The Merlin of myth and legend was nothing like this boy sitting in front of him surely? He was pretty sure he was meant to be older, well, apart from those few versions he'd read that had placed Arthur and Merlin at roughly the same age. "You'll find a lot like that," Merlin said, with a knowing smile, "you'll know soon enough which parts of which stories make up the entire truth."

"You spread the truth throughout all the legends?" Chris asked, impressed. That was the sort of thing he would do. A good way of creating stories for people to read, while at the same time making sure no one really knows what went on during that time, preventing any evil from recreating it fully. "I'm impressed."

"I thought you might be," Merlin grinned. "I got the idea from you, after all." Chris frowned, and Merlin grimaced. "Future sight," he explained, "it's creepy at times, but it's helpful. Though..." here he paused, eyeing Chris up and down somewhat critically, "like I said, I thought you'd be taller. I also thought you'd be the elder of the two brothers, so that goes to show how reliable future sight is. Still, at least we're managing to talk before your 17th, it should help to make things a lot easier for you."

"Merlin, why is my 17th important?" Chris asked, staring over at him with his confusion apparent. He considered it all, his mind rushing through what Merlin had said, and what he did already know. Which included who Wyatt was. "Merlin, am ... am I you?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotions. Merlin looked at him with those bright blue eyes, as though trying to decide whether or not to tell him. He came to a decision.

"Yes."