Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter


Chapter 11

Imbalance


In less than a week, Harry Potter had become the most despised student at the school. Jeers and insults followed the youth wherever he went, the only praise he received being from the Slytherins who were all too happy to be back in first place for the House Cup. Merlin was beside himself with disgust. The behavior these children were showing was downright immature.

"Their vision is so limited!" he complained to Perenelle one day as the two sat next to the Great Lake, taking a break from 'studying'. "Can't they see that winning the House Cup doesn't even truly matter?"

"It does to them," Perenelle sighed, leaning on her elbow while watching her husband pace. "They're children, Merlin. What do you expect?"

Merlin let out a curse before flopping down next to her. "I expect more," he grumbled. "None of them are even considering the emotional damage their causing that boy – as if Harry hasn't had enough already."

Perenelle sat up and wrapped her arm around his torso, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You've always cared for him in a way others haven't."

"Not enough for him to know," Merlin snapped. "I've kept an eye on him but I haven't done anything to alleviate his situation."

"But that's not entirely your fault," she admonished. "The Old Religion is at work in Harry's life. You know you can't meddle with it. You can only watch and protect when allowed."

"And I hate it sometimes," he said vehemently before his anger morphed into guilt. "I haven't paid him any attention since he came to Hogwarts. I just assumed that life would be better for him now that he's away from that Hell hole he was forced to grow up in. I've been so consumed with protecting the Stone, worrying about Voldemort, and pretending to be Arlin that I've completely neglected to check on him."

"Harry Potter is not your destiny," Perenelle reminded. "He has one, yes, but it is not your job to take care of him."

"I just don't want to see another child of Destiny fail," he whispered despairingly.

Perenelle kissed his cheek. "You won't let Harry fail, Merlin. Look what you've done so far to keep him safe. You're protecting the one thing Voldemort currently believes will restore him to power. In essence, you're protecting Harry."

"Preserving him, more like," Merlin angrily replied, "Making sure he lives long enough to learn what he needs to in order to at least stand a chance."

"Then count it as a victory you're at least doing something," she consoled. "Remember how many times Arthur stumbled and fell before he became king?"

A bitter smile lifted Merlin's lips. Yes, he could remember. He lost count of how many times the dollophead had made a poor decision that he later had to help him clean up. Seeing his smile, Perenelle continued.

"Though at times it was hard for you to watch, those failures and hardships helped Arthur become the man you were proud of. Now you have to watch as Harry is belittled and ridiculed by his peers. While I agree that it's wrong and I wish there was something we could do to help the poor child, he needs to experience this. Taking responsibility for breaking school rules – even if the intentions were noble – will help him grow to be a better man."

Merlin sighed before drawing her close and kissing her forehead. "Have I ever told you how wise you are?"

"A few times," she mused, "but I don't mind you mentioning it more."

Merlin chuckled before kissing her. "Thanks Nellie."

Her smile was radiant as she replied, "You're welcome."

[][][]

Over the next few days Merlin became convinced that the teachers were trying to kill the fifth years. The amount of information they were trying to shove in the children's heads in both class and homework was enough to turn their brains to mush. Merlin had no issues, of course, but he felt awful having to watch his peers suffer so much.

"I can't do this," Henry groaned two weeks before the O.W.L.'s were to take place. He slammed his forehead against the table over his study notes and mourned, "There's too much to remember. I should just resign from being a wizard and open a food stand on some corner in London."

"I don't think you're meant to work in the food industry, Henry," Merlin said while Caroline sympathetically rubbed circles into her boyfriend's back. "You're just stressed."

Henry looked at Merlin with daggers in his eyes. "And you're obviously not! What are you doing anyway, Arlin?"

Merlin glanced down at his book and shrugged. "Reading."

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Caroline said in disbelief, recognizing a page from the story of The Fountain of Fair Fortune. "You aren't even studying!"

"Of course he isn't," Henry petulantly retorted. "He doesn't need to. Arlin's too perfect, too smart, for studying. It's beneath him."

"Henry!" Perenelle admonished but the youth was on a role.

"Why can't you be like the rest of us?" he shouted, drawing the attention of the other Ravenclaw kids. "You've always been one step ahead. Every – single – year! Do you even have to try? What makes you so special anyway?"

Merlin's eyes were wide as he finally became aware of something he'd never noticed before. And he considered himself to be observant. Well, clearly he was a fool. Looking around, he saw the green monster of jealousy wasn't only in Henry's eyes. Everyone in the room, from first to seventh year, was staring at him with some form of contempt. While Merlin didn't particularly care what the others thought, Henry was his friend and it hurt to hear such bitterness in his tone.

"I had no idea you felt that way," he quietly whispered.

"Of course not!" Henry snapped. "You've never had to live in your shadow!"

"Enough!" Perenelle cried, leaping to her feet. Henry didn't say anymore as he turned away, unable to look at his best friend. Perenelle grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, Arlin. Let's go."

Merlin allowed her to steer him from the room. They traveled down several corridors before he gently pulled her to a stop.

"I didn't know he felt that way about me – that any of them felt that way," Merlin quietly confessed, staring out a window before glancing at her. "Did you?"

Perenelle sighed in resignation. "I knew, but I didn't think Henry's resentment was so deep. Merlin, you can't let this get to you."

"I thought he was my friend."

"He is! Oh, Merlin, can't you see? He's always been jealous but he cares about you. He really does. He's just under a lot of stress. Magic comes so easy to you because it is you. But for the others they have to work at it. Some, like Henry, have to work really hard to understand it. Their whole lives are hinging on how well they do in school so of course they're going to be jealous of someone who is breezing through classes without a care in the world."

"But I can't help that," Merlin said somewhat defensively. "I can't help what I am."

"I know," Perenelle consoled, holding him tight. "I know."

Merlin was torn. Had he really been so blind not to notice the resentment? Part of his heart broke as he remembered something he'd learned long ago.

"Even among my own kind, I'm an anomaly," he whispered. "I'll never have a place where I belong, will I?"

"You do have a place, Merlin," Perenelle replied, "With me. And before, you had one in Camelot."

Merlin shook his head. "No. Arthur never knew who I really was."

"But the others did after he was gone. Gwen repealed the ban on magic and made you Court Sorcerer. The people loved and respected you. You told me yourself that you finally felt like you fit in there."

"Yes but I also said I never felt complete."

"Of course you didn't," she agreed, "Arthur was gone."

"And he still is," Merlin whispered.

Perenelle squeezed his hand. "I know. And I know he's the only one who can really give you everything you've ever wanted. I've helped you but I've never completely been able to heal you. And that's okay. Really, it is. I understand that my role in your long life has been to help you cope, to help you have some sense of happiness until he returns. He'll be able to fix everything I can't. I'm just sorry that you have to suffer in a world of magic as well as a world without. Nobody deserves to suffer as you have, Merlin. I just wish I could make it better."

Merlin looked at her distraught face, her beautiful eyes filled with so much sorrow and pain.

"You have made it better," he assured her, caressing her cheek. "You have no idea how alone I was before you came. You brought light back into my life, Nellie, and I'll forever love you for it. Thank you."

She reached up and kissed him before pulling away and grabbing his hand.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asked as she led him along.

"You and I need a night off."

He allowed her to lead him without complaint. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve her but Merlin was thanking every star above that Perenelle loved him despite his faults. Deep down he knew that if the others knew who he truly was they wouldn't be ignorant as to why he was so gifted with magic. He knew there would always be witches and wizards who resented him but he hoped that wouldn't include his friends. At least he had Perenelle, Dumbledore, Newt, and Tina. They may be few but they were the best friends he could ask for. Maybe, one day, Henry and Caroline would know too.

Perenelle took him to the Prefect's bathroom.

Of course she would take him here; Merlin loved taking baths when he was distressed.

But instead of allowing him to start filling the tub, she stopped him, took out her wand, and magicked up a chair, indicating for him to sit. Raising a curious eyebrow, Merlin did as asked. Perenelle then made the curtains hide the mermaid painting and conjured at least a hundred white candles, the small round orbs floating over their heads like solid, dimly glowing bubbles. She flicked her wand one last time at the multiple faucets lining the vast bathtub in the floor and several turned on at once. Surveying her work with satisfaction, she pocketed her wand and settled behind Merlin, her hands reaching up to rub deep circles into his shoulders. A groan escaped Merlin's lips and he instantly relaxed, feeling the tension knots break apart under his wife's ministrations.

The massage worked wonders for both Merlin's body and spirit. Temporarily forgetting about the resentment of his peers and his worries over Voldemort and the Stone, Merlin focused solely on the moment, enjoying every second of it. After a time, Perenelle stopped and turned to face him, her hazel eyes now dancing with a fire that immediately lit Merlin's soul. After helping him to his feet, she reached up and pulled out the pin holding up her hair. Long caramel locks fell freely before she swept them to one shoulder. Merlin's fingers twitched, desperate to touch them. Smiling seductively, Perenelle leaned in until her lips brushed his earlobe.

"Stay still," she whispered.

Merlin nodded, closing his eyes as a pleasurable shiver traveled down his spine. Her hands were smooth and gentle as they removed his school robe. Her silken lips occasionally connected with his skin, kissing different areas while her hands worked. After successfully removing his clothing, she stepped back and started on her own, allowing Merlin to enjoy the view. Once she was bare, she held out a hand and smiled at him. Merlin hastened towards her and tripped slightly. Her giggle echoed around the room like music to his ears as she caught him before he could fully land on his face. Smiling sheepishly up at her, he regained his balance and the two descended into the now full tub. Merlin pulled her close and rested his head against her shoulder.

"I love you, Perenelle."

"I love you too," she said, reaching up to stroke the back of his head with slightly damp fingers. "I always will."

Merlin sought her lips, kissing them with the hopes of conveying the feelings he couldn't express with words. This woman had saved him in so many ways. It was cruel that she would never be able to make him whole but she had come remarkably close – closer than anyone ever had. She had been with him for so long, had seen him at his best and at his worst, and yet loved him all the same. How incredible she was. The early sorrow that had been threatening to drown him had completely disappeared because of her love and compassion. Merlin kissed her with everything he had, enjoying the way her bare skin rubbed against his own.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN ARE YOU DOING?!"

Merlin and Perenelle pulled apart, a horrified gasp escaping them at the sight of Percy Weasley standing a few paces within the room. The boy's eyes were as wide as goose eggs behind his horn rimmed glasses, his face as dark as a cherry. Merlin automatically pulled Perenelle behind him, shielding her body as best he could.

"Percy, this isn't what you think," he began.

"Really? Care to explain then, Penrys, why both of you are in the same tub while your clothes are–are –"

He gestured wildly to the garments on the floor. Merlin was too panicked to respond. Percy drew himself to his full height, his eyes blazing with fury.

"I've heard of situations like this before but never have they involved prefects. You've just thrown away everything! You'll never be Head Boy or Head Girl now. You're going to be expelled! How could you do something so foolish?"

"Percy –"

"No, Arlin!"

Merlin froze. Percy had never addressed him by his first name before. While still utterly mortified, there was something else in the Gryffindor prefect's eyes. Disappointment?

"I'm going to Dumbledore!" he cried, turning on his heel and running from the room.

A full thirty seconds passed before the shock wore off.

Perenelle cursed. "This is bad. This is really, really bad!"

"Why didn't I just obliviate him?!" Merlin mourned, scrambling for the tub's edge.

They dried themselves off and began to dress but panic made things take longer than usual, Merlin dropping his robes several times and Perenelle fighting to get her socks on her feet. Both left the room a few minutes later, terror in their hearts. There was every chance Percy could report what he saw to the first teacher he came across but Merlin drastically prayed the boy would hold his tongue until he reached the headmaster. Dumbledore knew but others... Merlin didn't want to think about having to revise their minds. He hated messing with another's memories, knowing how sacred they were himself. He was loath already over having to alter Percy's.

Reaching the seventh floor, Merlin was about to blast the stone gargoyle to pieces when Percy appeared, descending the circular staircase with a haughty smile on his lips. Merlin and Perenelle filled with dread. They were too late.

"What are you doing here, Penrys?" Percy demanded, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Merlin's brow knit with confusion. "Huh?"

Percy huffed. "If you think you can talk your way into becoming Head Boy, then you'll be severely disappointed. The headmaster just told me himself that I've pretty much got the position in the bag. Too bad; you had so much promise, but it would appear that you never succeeded in getting deep enough into Dumbledore's pocket."

And on that note the redhead threw his nose in the air and strode away, his triumphant smile returning to his face.

"What in the world just happened?" Perenelle asked, bewildered.

"No idea," Merlin replied, just as confused. Shaking his head, he made for the staircase. "Come on."

He didn't even bother knocking. They entered to find Dumbledore sitting behind his desk with his fingers threaded together, his eyes fixed straight ahead with a firm frown on his face. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The exasperation and disappointment radiating from him was enough to cause the mightiest of men to wither in shame.

Merlin's hand shook as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Albus –"

"Do I really need to lecture you, Merlin?" he interrupted, his voice calm.

It would have been better if he had shouted. Why did this man –who was centuries younger than him – have the capability of making him feel like a guilty teenager? Merlin almost felt like he was back in Camelot facing the wrath of another old man he respected more than anyone else. Though they looked completely different, the uncanny resemblance between Dumbledore and Gaius in this moment was staggering. The frown, the raised eyebrow, the disappointed eyes; they were all the same.

"It's my fault," Perenelle said, stepping forward. "I instigated it."

"I'm just as guilty, Nellie," said Merlin, unwilling to let her take full responsibility.

"Indeed," Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose just under his half-moon spectacles. "Lucky for us all, Mr. Weasley only reported the incident to me."

"You're sure?" Merlin pressed.

"I read his mind and then took the responsibility of removing what he witnessed from his memory."

Merlin's shoulders sagged in both relief and guilt. "Thank you, Albus."

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"This cannot happen again. While I cannot -and will not- force you both into abstaining from such activities, they can no longer be tolerated within this school. From now on you will have to enjoy the bliss of marriage somewhere else in your spare time."

"We understand, Albus," said Perenelle. "We apologize for being careless."

"It won't happen again," Merlin vowed.

Dumbledore nodded and some of the tension left the room. "I'm truly sorry to demand this of you."

"No, you're right to do so," Merlin sighed. "It's best for everyone. Thank you for protecting us, Albus. You're a loyal friend."

Dumbledore managed a small smile then. "I would do it again, were it necessary. Now, I think it best for the two of you to return to Ravenclaw Tower. O.W.L.'s are in two weeks and fifth years should be using this time to study."

The couple agreed, promptly leaving the headmaster's office. They didn't speak the whole way back to the fifth floor. Both were still slightly mortified they'd been caught and chastened. They were centuries old and yet the two of them had been completely reckless. Merlin wanted to kick himself. Why hadn't he put a ward on the door? It was usually the first thing he did before getting romantically distracted.

They reached Ravenclaw Tower.

"Merlin, this was my fault," Perenelle whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Nellie, please, don't. We're both at fault and what's done is done. We're just going to have to be cautious and a little patient from now on. I'm willing to do that if you are."

Perenelle smiled. "Of course I am. Maybe we should invest in a small apartment in Hogsmeade?"

"I can arrange it," Merlin offered.

The two shared a kiss before turning to the door and answering its riddle. With how late it was they thought the common room would be empty but two people stood up near the fireplace, making them temporarily forget their guilt. Caroline squeezed Henry's hand and nodded to him. The boy took a deep breath and strode towards Merlin with determination.

"Hey," he lamely greeted, his eyes falling to his feet once he reached him. "Um, listen…"

Merlin surprised him by pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry," he muttered in Henry's ear.

Henry pulled away, mystified. "You're sorry? Arlin, I'm the one that –"

"It's okay," Merlin smiled.

Henry swallowed, his eyes glistening as he pressed on anyway. "Arlin, you're the best mate a guy could ask for and I know you'd never boast about your talents like Weasley does. Can you forgive me?"

"I already have," Merlin assured. "So, do you need any help studying?"

Henry sheepishly grinned. "Loads," he admitted. "Do you mind…?"

"Not at all."

Perenelle and Caroline shared a relieved smile before joining the boys at the table, grateful to see that their friendship was no longer fractured.

[][][]

Merlin woke the next morning with a headache. He didn't think anything of it since he got headaches quite often (they were the only kind of illness his immortal body wasn't immune to) and yesterday had been a rather stressful one. By the evening, however, the headache had developed into a splitting migraine. He decided to skip dinner since the lights and noise around him intensified the throbbing in his skull. Perenelle came to check on him later but he was already asleep.

The following morning, he'd grown worse.

Stumbling into the bathroom, Merlin proceeded to throw up, his body trembling from the multiple convulsions of emptying the contents in his stomach. Exiting the stall, he shuffled towards the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like death warmed over.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered, terrified.

He hadn't been sick like this since his Camelot days. He'd forgotten how rotten one could feel but he was certainly feeling it now; the aching of the joints, the shallowness of breath, the lack of energy. Perhaps he had the flu? But his nose wasn't running or stuffed up and he didn't have a sore throat. His head still pounded something awful though. Gracious he felt bloody awful.

The usual sounds that occupied the tower when the students were waking caught his ears and Merlin straightened. He didn't want anyone else to know that he was feeling unwell. Maybe it had to deal with stupid pride but he didn't want the cause of his sudden illness to be mistaken for falling apart due to exams. He'd just have to deal with it. When he was mortal he'd been a master of hiding his pain. He could certainly rekindle the old habit now. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and left the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"Are you alright?" Perenelle asked him once they were down to breakfast.

Merlin nodded though it split his skull to do so. "Headache's still there," he grunted.

"Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," Caroline suggested.

Merlin shook his head. "There's really no need. I'll be able to sleep it off tonight."

"If you're sure," muttered Henry hesitantly, his concern just as deep as the girls.

"I'll be fine," Merlin said, secretly trying to reassure himself just as much as them.

He ended up not eat anything that morning. His stomach still churned and he didn't want to chance throwing up again if he could help it. Forcing himself to fight through the pain and discomfort during his morning classes, Merlin ignored how difficult it became to breathe and the way his joints screamed with every movement he made. His magic also seemed crippled and sluggish, making it hard to perform spells that he could normally cast in his sleep.

The last class before lunch, Muggle Studies, Merlin said goodbye to a very concerned Perenelle who continued on her way to Ancient Runes once he wrote off her worries with "it's just a headache, sweetheart. It's nothing." He then entered the classroom and sagged down in his usual seat, waiting for Professor Burbage's lecture on electricity to begin with his head on his desk.

The class progressed slowly and as Merlin sat there he couldn't help noticing that the pain flowing throughout his body was increasing. At one point his heart clenched and he had to stuff his fist into his mouth to stop from crying out. His sharp intake of breath went unnoticed, his fellow classmates immersed in the lesson, their hands busy jotting down notes they felt would be useful. He felt like shards of icy glass were coursing through his veins, cutting him from the inside out. What was going on?

The worst wave of pain hit as Professor Burbage was explaining the way electricity worked with water in a dish washer. Feeling like he was burning from the inside out, Merlin screamed before falling off his chair, passing out as soon as he hit the floor.

[][][]

The moment he returned to consciousness Merlin wished someone would knock him out again. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He tried moving his head but gasped as throbbing pain sliced through his skull.

"Merlin? Merlin! Are you awake?"

The distressed sound of Perenelle's voice was muffled in his ears but Merlin answered anyway, "M'here." The slurred words were hoarse and low, his tongue felt like it was made of lead. His throat throbbed painfully but he continued to plow on, "Wha' hapnd?"

"We were hoping you could tell us."

Merlin's vision swam but the long glint of silver was enough for him to discern that it was Dumbledore sitting next to his troubled wife.

"They said you screamed before fainting in Muggle Studies," said Perenelle. "I knew that something was wrong! Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"Din' know wha' wuz goin' on," Merlin slurred. "Still don'."

"Madam Pomfrey has never seen a sickness like this before," said Dumbledore gravely. "She's suggesting we transfer you to St. Mungo's."

Merlin shot down the suggestion at once. He avoided hospitals – especially that one – for a reason. The first time he'd been 'examined' by a doctor was during the witch hunts. He'd been caught and experimented on in ways he never wanted to relive. Unfortunately he was forced to repeat certain "treatments" during the world wars, his magic unable to function properly due to the drugs scientists pumped into his system. His escapes were through the charity of others, the world war rescues mainly being Perenelle's doing, and he had no intention of allowing anyone else to poke and prod him with medical tools.

"He can't go there, Albus," Perenelle whispered fervently.

"But they might be able to discover the cause of his illness."

"No, Albus," Merlin interrupted, staring fiercely up at his friend despite the pain. "No hospitals. Ever."

"Merlin–"

"Please, Albus," Perenelle begged. "Don't."

Sensing their distress, the headmaster studied each of them through his glasses before letting out a heavy sigh. "Very well. I'll inform Poppy that your request is for her to continue to do what she can. But, Merlin, we're all very concerned. Is there anything we can do to help you?"

"Let me rest," Merlin sighed, his energy already spent.

"Of course, honey," Perenelle whispered, kissing his forehead, her hazel eyes mirroring her inner worry. "But the next time you wake up you're telling Madam Pomfrey every symptom you have."

"Yes, my lady," Merlin muttered, already half asleep.

The last thing he saw before drifting off was Dumbledore and Perenelle sharing a very concerned glance.

[][][]

Merlin had been in the hospital for four days and Madam Pomfrey was about ready to knock him out and drag him to St. Mungo's herself.

"You can't stay here, Penrys! I have no idea what's happening to you. I have tried every remedy I can think of and nothing's worked! You need to go to the hospital."

Merlin stared up at her weakly. "Please don't make me go there, Madam Pomfrey."

"Do you have something against hospitals?" she demanded.

"Yes," Merlin reluctantly admitted.

"Well, you'll have to get over it! I will not allow you to slowly kill yourself just because you don't want other people to help you."

Though it took great effort, Merlin grabbed her arm, stilling her frantic movements at attempting to straighten his sheets. "Please," he pled, "I can't go there. I can't."

The stern witch studied him a moment before the fire left her eyes, showing nothing but compassion and worry. Taking his hand, she showed a rare burst of affection and whispered, "Alright, but I can't just stand here and do nothing. If you won't go to St. Mungo's, can I at least bring someone to examine you?"

Merlin stiffened in dread. If any healer in the magical community were to scrutinize him more than Madam Pomfrey had done… he shook his head, his fear naked in his eyes as he tried to push back the nightmares of his past.

"Please, no doctors, no healers," he begged, his breathing becoming ragged.

Seeing that she had rattled her patient, Madam Pomfrey immediately backed down, calming him with soothing promises that she would keep the healers away before suggesting he should rest. Merlin did as asked, closing his eyes and focusing on anything that would keep him from reliving the memories that were threatening to haunt him.

[][][]

"Emrys."

Merlin's eyes shot open. Had he the energy, he would have bolted upright. Instead, he could only look around, squinting in the dark until he noticed an old man with short white hair and pale gray-blue eyes standing at the foot of his bed. His robes were white and tattered and he held a staff, the top carved like a single deer antler. Merlin couldn't speak. He could hardly breathe as the old man shuffled to his side and perched on the edge of the bed; it was clear by the old man's movements that he was in incredible pain.

"Anhora?" Merlin whispered in disbelief.

Anhora smiled sadly. "Yes, Emrys. It has been many years since last we met."

"What are you – How are you here?"

Because Merlin truly hadn't seen this man since the day Arthur had passed his test by the sea just outside the Labyrinth of Gedref. All these years he'd thought he was the last of the Old Religion sorcerers and yet here was Anhora, sitting next to him.

"I am the Keeper of the Unicorns, Emrys," he sadly smiled. "As long as they exist, so shall I."

"Are you like me then?" Merlin desperately whispered. "Are you immortal?"

"As I said, my existence depends upon the unicorns. Yours depends on the Old Religion and the return of the Once and Future King."

Merlin frowned. "But if you've been around this whole time –"

"Why haven't I shown myself to you? Because I can only make myself known when a unicorn is in peril or killed."

Merlin stilled. "Someone has killed a unicorn?"

Anhora's face was riddled with pain as his shoulders slumped. "Not just one, Emrys."

Merlin's eyes widened in disbelief, his mind taken back to the horrible curse that had inflicted all of Camelot because of Arthur's mistake in killing just one of these creatures.

"Who would be foolish enough to kill multiple unicorns?" he asked, horrified by the complications that could come from such a sin.

"Someone who is desperate for power and yet does not understand the balance of the Old ways."

There was only one person Merlin could think of in this day and age that fit that description.

"Voldemort," he cursed. "Wait, the balance… Are you saying that's why I feel this way?"

Anhora nodded. "I too have grown rather weak but not as much as you, Emrys. Like I said, my existence is tied to the unicorns themselves. Yours is tied to the Old Religion. Besides you, your dragon, and the phoenixes, unicorns are its last true creatures. You have grown weak because the slaughter has caused a great imbalance to the Old ways. In a way, your magic – which is a branch of the Old Religion – is being attacked. I am afraid that until the killings cease, you will continue to feel as you do now."

"Then we have to stop them!" Merlin cried, trying to sit up. It was a bad idea because his entire body screamed in protest. Hissing in pain, he fell back into his pillows.

"You are in no condition to do anything, I'm afraid," Anhora stated.

"Then how do you propose we put an end to this?" Merlin grumbled, understandably frustrated.

"Speak with you friend, the headmaster of this school," Anhora counseled. "Together you may find a way to cease Voldemort's actions."

The old man stood.

"Hang on," Merlin cried, reaching out and grabbing his cloak. "The school isn't going to be cursed for what Voldemort's doing, is it?"

"No," Anhora assured. "He and his accomplice are the only ones who will suffer. They will live a half-life, a cursed life. Their doom is on their own hands."

Merlin frowned. "Then why did you curse the people of Camelot instead of just Arthur?"

"Because the greatest anguish Arthur could endure was not of himself but of watching his people suffer."

Merlin stared. Not a truer statement could have been uttered. It made sense, then, for Voldemort and Quirrell (who were both selfish men) to suffer themselves. He was still contemplating the differences between Arthur's blunder and Voldemort's (one done in ignorance and the other in selfishness) when he noticed Anhora's cloak was slipping through his fingers.

"Wait!" he cried. "You're leaving?"

Now that he knew he still existed, Merlin was loath to let Anhora go. He was like him, bound to serve the purposes of the Old Religion until his work was done. He'd known Arthur personally, had walked within Camelot's walls, and thrived in its forests. He was a link Merlin never thought he'd reconnect with. To have a part of his past here, now, it was comparable to a drowning man finding a lifeboat in a raging sea. True, he had Aithusa, but Anhora was human; at least, as human as one could get when warped by the Old Religion to do its bidding.

The Keeper of the Unicorns took Merlin's hand and gently smiled.

"I know you have suffered, Emrys – I can see it in your eyes – but immortality has taught you many things which will give light and guidance to you and your King once he returns."

"But when will he come back?" Merlin desperately asked.

"Soon, Emrys," Anhora whispered. "Soon."

And then, just like that, he was gone.

Merlin's hand fell by his side.

So Voldemort was the reason he was ill. He supposed this hadn't happened to him before because no one else would be dumb enough to mass slaughter unicorns. He needed to talk to Dumbledore. Glancing at the closed door of Madam Pomfrey's office, Merlin took a deep breath and used his magic to write a message to the headmaster. It took a lot of concentration and energy, leaving him winded and rather drained by the end, but Merlin knew his message would get through. Settling back into his pillow, he only had to wait ten minutes before Dumbledore came striding into the Hospital Wing wearing a dressing gown and a night cap, his blue eyes filled with worry.

"I'm alright," Merlin muttered as he approached, "I've just learned something you need to know."

He then recounted everything that Anhora had revealed, also giving a very brief retelling of Arthur's discrepancy in the past to explain how he knew the old man in the first place.

Dumbledore was just as appalled as Merlin over the news. "To intentionally slay something so pure," he lamented, shaking his head.

"And I don't think they're doing it just for sport," Merlin gravely muttered. "Unicorn blood has the power to keep someone alive but at a terrible price. I believe Voldemort is making Quirrell drink it as a temporary fix until he can get his hands on the Stone. Not that he's going to, of course."

"And until we stop them from killing the unicorns, you'll remain here incapacitated."

"More or less," Merlin groused.

Dumbledore rose to his feet. "It would seem that it is my turn to help you this time, Merlin. You took care of Hagrid's dragon. Let me solve the unicorn issue."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "You have a plan?"

"Nothing concrete but I'm sure I can solidify my thoughts while pacing and sucking on a lemon drop in my office," he mused with a smile. "Pacing works wonders, I'll have you know."

Merlin let out a weak laugh before frowning once more. "Can I be of any assistance?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said gently. "You need to rest. You may be immortal but I dare say it's a safe assumption that you are going to need to heal after the problem is dealt with. I fear you might miss your O.W.L.'s."

"Oh, how horrid that would be," Merlin replied, pretending to be distraught over the possibility.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can arrange for you to make them up if you are incapable of participating with your fellow fifth year students."

Merlin grimaced. "Albus, you really know how to kick a sick man when he's already down."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and patted him on the shoulder. "Rest and trust that I'll take care of this, Merlin. I don't want you giving Poppy an ulcer."

"I think she's going to give me one first but I'll do as you ask," he sighed. "Keep me informed, Albus."

"I will."

Shortly after the headmaster left, Merlin looked out the nearest window at the sea of stars twinkling in the black heavens. "I hate not being able to do anything," he grumbled. Feeling useless, he turned on his side and fell back asleep.


Okay everyone, it looks like the next chapter might be the last for this story. I haven't received as much feedback as I thought I would for it but I was wondering, if I did a sequel, would anyone care to read it? It would be rather different from this one because instead of having Merlin work in the background I would have him get involved in Harry's life... as a teacher. That's right folks, if ya'll want a sequel, Merlin's going to be a teacher and I may or may not have a certain golden haired Prat play a larger role besides popping up every once in a while. ;) Let me know what you guys want and how you felt about the chapter in a review. Thanks for reading!