Chapter 12: A Moment of Truths
Gwen turned towards Merlin with shining eyes, for once completely ignoring Gorlois as he scribbled the beginnings of the theory of Freezing Charms on the blackboard. "You think she'd actually let me? You're not just saying that to be nice, are you?"
Merlin gave her a sidelong glance before turning back to copying the notes down from the board. Not that he really needed to. For some reason Freezing Charms had always come easily to him. He thought it perhaps because of their similarity to his magic itself – his magic had always been cold. "You give me too much credit, Gwen," he whispered back, keeping his tone barely audible. "I'm not the kind of person who keeps my trap shut because I might offend someone."
Grinning with more joviality than was entirely warranted for his statement, Gwen nodded. "I have noticed that sometimes you lack a filter. It's adorable, your blabbering and yapping about."
"You make me sound like a puppy."
"There's a reason for that. But you're distracting me. You really think Morgana wouldn't mind if I studied with you once in a while?"
Merlin shook his head, eyes drifting towards the ceiling in fond exasperation. He hadn't known that Gwen held something akin to hero-worship for Morgana, but such a reality was rapidly becoming evident. Far from being deterred by her coldness, her hardness and what could be construed as cruelty – all features that Merlin had come to realise were little more than pretences that Morgana wore, slipping on and off as easily as an robe – Gwen seemed to admire her for it. She came more from the perspective that such detachment from her peers was a by-product of Morgana's extraordinary intelligence, and that of course it would be difficult to mingle with everyone else when she so far surpassed those around her.
Merlin had stared at her blankly after her explanation before snorting and chuckling. It was true that Morgana was intelligent. Very intelligent, if the fact that she was taking higher level subjects than her five years of schooling warranted was any indication. But he could have told Gwen she was smart even without that knowledge, simply from the help she'd been affording him with his own homework. But the other part? The 'difficulty mingling'? It was laughable, really. Morgana revelled in such 'difficulty', seeming to thrive on it. Merlin doubted she would like it any other way than to be viewed by the majority of her peers with respect, awe and just a hint of fear.
Over the past few weeks, Merlin had been spending every other evening with Morgana in the common room after curfew. When the starers had looked their fill and the confusion and faint shock at the fact that Morgana Gorlois was talking, interacting, and even seemed to be nearly enjoying spending time with someone else – and a third year at that… when it had all faded slightly, it had become even more enjoyable to do so.
Merlin didn't liked the staring, but he put up with them, mostly because Morgana demanded he join her of an evening and demanded even more vehemently when she discovered his poor writing skills. Their parallel studying sessions had quickly become lessons, at first unidirectional and then as an exchange of knowledge when Morgana's asked to see his wandless magic. Not that she ever performed any herself, never giving it a try no matter how many evenings she observed. She seemed content to simply watch, eyes hungrily drinking in the little gestures of Merlin's hands as he tweaked them in a mimic of wand-waving. That fixation had at first disconcerted Merlin, but he'd grown used to it. Besides, he'd put up with the mild discomfort to spend time with the older girl.
She was nice, in a hard love kind of way.
Those lessons with Morgana, often stretching late into the evening when most other students had gone to bed – and becoming less and less rigid and more simply filled with casual conversation – had largely replaced those Merlin had with Kilgharrah. He was still angry with the ex-Dark Arts professor, still peeved by the apparent prejudice of his words. He hadn't expected such from the man who had seemed so genuinely cordial, so deep thinking and accepting of faults large and small – at least that was how it had seemed from his readiness to overlook the stark reality of Merlin's Dark Gift.
Apparently, Merlin had been wrong in his assumption. Kilgharrah did have prejudices; they were just different to those most people possessed, and hinged upon the knowledge he had acquired from the tentative possibilities his Seeing had provided him with. Or at least, that was how Merlin perceived it. He hadn't been told in so many words that Kilgharrah was indeed a Seer, but nothing else really made sense.
Hunith had always taught Merlin to be accepting of other people's opinions. That they were a product of perspective, of upbringing and circumstance, and that one should never judge too harshly. And yet Kilgharrah had insulted Morgana, the girl who had been nothing but – well, not quite nice, but certainly not mean. And Mordred too, the boy who seemed so quiet and distant, who Merlin sincerely thought would be more likely to scoop an irritating mosquito into his hands to take outside rather than swatting the little annoyance to death. Where did Kilgharrah even get such an idea? What did he know? From prophecies? No, Merlin didn't put much stock in precognition. It seemed far too hazy, too changeable.
Gwen had discovered that Merlin was spending time with Morgana through the gossip grapevine. Naturally, because nothing so astounding as Morgana Gorlois talking to a junior could slip beneath the gossipmongers' radar. Gwen wasn't all that much of a gossip herself, but even she couldn't have missed the raised eyebrows or whispers that ensued when Morgana approached Merlin in the Great Hall one Saturday at lunchtime – the one and only time she ever had – and asked him if he would feel inclined to join she and Mordred in the Astronomy tower later that day.
Which was how, two days later, Gwen was whispering a fierce and desperate desire to be a part of Merlin's and Morgana's study session – sessions that were as much talking about Mordred, and wandless magic, and arguing about Muggle Studies and Divination or agreeing over the practicality of Defence classes as actual studying. Gwen had asked, in the way she did that was almost a demand, if she could join them. How could Merlin refuse?
"Honestly, Gwen," Merlin whispered to his friend as Gorlois, sweeping his eyes over the room, turned back to the blackboard once more. "I think she would be delighted to have you along so long as you got rid of this hero-worship you have for her. I'm sure she'd appreciate the more educated conversations you'd probably have."
"I don't worship her," Gwen whispered back, though the faint touch of colour pooling in her cheeks spoke fallacy of her claim. "She's just… she's basically the smartest person in the school and… what did you mean by 'more educated conversations'?"
"Just that I'm not an idiot, and because I'm not I realise you're definitely smarter than me," Merlin replied, dipping his quill into his inkwell and tapping it with a shallow clink. "Morgana's really smart. She'd probably like talking to you, if, you know, I actually managed to convince her to." That was the only problem, Merlin considered. He didn't know how ready Morgana would be to take a suggestion to introduce her to his friends. Would she slip on that cold aversion, that superiority that she wore so well, and almost every moment of the day? He hoped not. Gwen would be so upset. Or at least she would be when she managed to wrestle aside her awe for a second.
"You do realise," Merlin continued under his breath. He paused as Gorlois glanced over his shoulder and raised a pointed eyebrow at him directly. Merlin offered an apologetic nod for his speaking in class but continued once more as soon as he'd turned around. "You do realise that Morgana and me, we sit together in the Slytherin common room? So you'd have to come into our common room if you wanted to join us."
Gwen immediately adopted a horrified expression. "Oh no, I couldn't do that!" She hissed, shaking her head rapidly enough that Lancelot, on her other side, glanced up from his own work to raise an eyebrow at her questioningly. "Going into another house's common room is just… it's just…"
"Not done, I know," Merlin nodded understanding. And he did know, even if it seemed nothing if not ridiculous to him. For whatever reason, tradition or foolishness, stepping over the threshold of another house's common room was something of a taboo. Not even Gwen had done so in the Gryffindor tower, and she with her brother from the house and everything. "You could still try, though. Maybe. If you really wanted to."
Gwen pressed her lips together for a moment, a frown wrinkling her brow as she turned towards the blackboard that Gorlois was gradually filling with words. "I do want to, but… it's just…"
"Don't pop a vein over it or anything. If it really worries you I could just ask if Morgana wouldn't mind going to the library sometime or something."
Gwen's beaming smile returned full force and she leaned into Merlin, wrapping an arm through his in a way that succeeded in effectively stopping his attempts at writing further. "Would you?" She whispered, the utterance a nearly inaudible squeak. "That would be wonderful! Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin didn't get a chance to reply, which was probably a good thing because the words of on the tip of his tongue, that he wasn't sure Morgana would agree to it, would have probably dampened the brightness of Gwen's smile like clouds crossing the sun. Instead, he was interrupted by the unexpected appearance of an owl in the middle of the classroom.
It dove through the single open window in a flurry of feathers, scattering a shower of down as it grazed across the windowsill and eliciting exclamations of surprise as it swept across the desks. Merlin started back in his seat as the little short-eared owl landed upon his desk, round, penetrating yellow eyes wide and staring at him from a heart-shaped face. It stuck a tufted foot out towards him in and offering of the letter it carried. The familiar short-eared owl – Benevolence by name and by nature – cocked its head pointedly.
Familiar. His mother's owl.
What…?
A sickening roil twisted Merlin's gut, followed almost immediately by the rushing chill of his magic responding to the sudden sense of foreboding. Owl's came at breakfast time, at mail delivery time only. Unless there was an emergency, that is, in which case the sender would demand immediate delivery regardless of the situation. The fact that Benevolence had found Merlin in the middle of class was ominous in itself.
"Emrys."
Merlin raised his wide, increasingly apprehensive gaze from that of the owl and glanced towards his professor. The kind-faced man wore an expression of resignation nearly overridden by a very distinctive concern. He knew as well as Merlin did what the arrival of the owl indicated. "Sorry, sir," Merlin croaked out, and quickly untangled the letter from Benevolence's leg.
The owl hooted quietly, to Merlin's ears a little sympathetically, before spreading her wings and sweeping back through the window. Merlin clutched the letter in his hands, the parchment faintly trembling for some reason. The letters of his name, written in his mother's cursive hand, shivered along with them.
Gwen's gently nudging elbow in his side drew his attention from the nausea welling in his gut, from his attempts at reassuring himself that nothing's wrong, there surely can't be anything wrong with Mum, not if she managed to write the letter. He drew his gaze towards where Gorlois had paused halfway crossed the room towards his desk. His brow was crinkled in anticipated sympathy and his hands were folded before him in an almost respectful stance.
"Take a moment, Emrys. Emergencies warrant a moment at least." He gave Merlin a faint smile that only served to intensify his feelings of foreboding. "Should you need to excuse yourself, take the opportunity to do so."
Merlin swallowed tightly and nodded his thanks as Gorlois turned back towards the head of the classroom. He barely noticed as the professor, in what seemed an excessively loud voice, began to speak. "Alright. We shall begin with our incantations first before moving onto wand motions for this task I think. Now, there is some confusion initially, given that there are two kinds of Freezing Charms, the physical freezing and the immobilising, as though they have somewhat different formations the spirit of their outcomes are relatively similar. We shall be focusing on the latter, with use of the incantation Immobulus…"
Merlin barely heard his words. His gaze had fallen back to the letter in his hand, and he felt only distantly the patting of Gwen's hand on his arm, felt Freya's wide-eyed gaze from his other side as she stared at him. Swallowing once more, his fingers clumsy and trembling almost as much as the letter was, he pried open the wax seal.
Merlin usually considered himself so good at handling surprises but…
It took several blinks before his mother's handwriting came into focus.
Merlin,
I am terribly sorry that I must relay this information in such a manner, but I felt it was best to address you personally rather than to pass the message through professor and headmaster. I am so sorry, my love, but there has been an incident with William. At present, no one knows just what caused it, but we are working to reverse the damage done to his magical core. But I fear for the worst – it is not looking hopeful…
Merlin had to pause, to blink several times as he slowly read through the letter. The words barely registered in any chronology anyway, bouncing through his mind in snippets.
… magically disabling, perhaps some kind of attack or accidental magic…
… didn't get a chance to ask him how it happened before he lost consciousness…
… doing all I can, but Merlin… I'm so sorry, but he is failing…
… should like to visit as quickly as you can…
He didn't know how the letter ended. He couldn't read it. His eyes, wide and staring didn't even see the words.
It had happened. It had happened again. Will may not have been able to tell anyone how – or more correctly who – but Merlin knew. He'd seen an attack before, had even anticipated it would happen again, but…
He didn't hear a word for the rest of the class. He couldn't move to pick up his quill. But when the bell sounded for the end of the period, Merlin was thrown into motion almost against his will. He was only distantly aware of the presence of Gwen hastening after him, calling in his wake, as he ran from the room.
"If you could teach half as well as you preach you can, Arthur, then you should definitely take over from Alator," Leon said with a groan as they wandered down towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Honestly, how he expects anyone to remember any of the information he spouts by yelling at us…"
Arthur rolled his eyes at Leon's complaining. It was a widely known fact amongst the third years – or at least in their friendship group – that Leon was appalling at History. Or any kind of rote learning for that matter. He retained knowledge better by investigating for himself, by writing and adapting and putting it into his own words. It didn't help that Alator seemed to scare the living daylights out of him from the way that he twitched compulsively every time the professor raised his voice.
"It's not that bad," Arthur said. "Surely better than some old ghost of a professor who just drones on and on without even taking a break to ask questions or anything. My father told me there used to be a professor who was like that back when he was at school."
Leon shook his head fervently. "No, old and droning is definitely better than shouting."
"Personally I actually find that some of the stuff he shouts sticks better," Elyan chimed in from Leon's other side.
Arthur snorted. "Yeah, well you would, what with living with Gwen. She's got a set of lungs on her."
"Gwen doesn't shout that much," Percival said, two steps behind them as he was want to walk – Arthur had always considered it was a by-product of him being as wide as two students and hence needing twice as much space in the hallway as everyone else. "Have you noticed that Gwen very rarely raises her voice at anyone except you, Arthur?"
Arthur frowned. "That's hardly fair."
"Unfair maybe, but true." Elyan nodded.
"Why does she only yell at me?"
"I have my suspicions that it's because she's found that tactic works so well."
The three of them laughed as they descended the stairs into the Entrance Hall. Arthur frowned at their amusement at his expense, but found himself struggling to withhold a grin of his own. It was hard to stay disgruntled in the face of his friends' merriment.
At least, Arthur struggled until he noticed the little cluster of students next to the front doors of the castle and found himself immediately distracted. Morgana, with Gwen of all people, and both of them with their attention fixed directly upon –
"Is that Emrys? With Gwen and Gorlois?" Percival, always the most observant one, noticed them first of Arthur's friends.
"Is he crying?" Leon asked with a frown. "Why is he crying? And in the Entrance Hall? I'd be horrified if anyone saw me crying."
"Good thing you lack tear ducts, then," Arthur muttered, but it was only half-heartedly. He was already starting down the stairs at a faster pace because any situation that involved both Gwen and Morgana – two people that, despite both being close to Arthur, had never had anything to do with one another – would be interesting. Both were a force to be reckoned with of themselves, if in different ways.
"I do too! I do have tear ducts. And what kind of an insult is that anyway, Arthur?"
"So you can cry?" Elyan asked.
"Of course I can. I mean, I can, but I don't. I mean –"
Arthur ignored the joking teasing of his friends behind him as he approached the group. Emrys, positioned between the two girls, was indeed crying. It was as horrible sight, Arthur had to admit. Arthur had seen heartbreak before. He'd seen it as the superficial crushes torn from their blissful ignorance, such as with Sophia when she'd approached him in first year. He'd seen it at a distance in his elders, such as when the few women that his father had taken to over the years since his mother's death had been disappointed. One of the most intimate times, and what he'd seen as being the most confronting, was the previous year when Morgana had broken up with Helios. Most depressingly of the situation was that Helios still evidently pined for her, even after the dismissiveness that Morgana had afforded him ever since.
Emrys' heartbreak was different entirely, so much that Arthur wondered at first if his initial impression was incorrect. His shouldered were hugged tightly to his ears as he shrunk in upon himself, his hands clasped before his mouth as though to mute any sobbing that may spill forth, and his eyes… Arthur had never seen someone so wrought with sadness before that moment. Wide and red-rimmed, eyelashes spiked with wetness, they still dribbled tears like a broken tap unable to stop.
And just as prominently was the cold. The shiver of icy magic that Arthur had felt around Emrys from time to time, the feeling that he associated as being his – his magic, his feelings, him. It wasn't hard and cool like the steel of Morgana's magic but more the icy openness of a blizzard, a freezing gale that seemed to radiate magic and pure emotion both. Arthur was nearly blown backwards by its intensity.
Two thoughts crossed Arthur's mind when he saw the boy who he had only recently grown from disliking. The first, he sorely wished that Emrys would stop crying. Not because it particularly concerned him but… Arthur didn't like seeing people in pain. His father had always urged him to defend and protect those he cared about, to stand for his friends, and he supposed he did. Gwen had said that such overprotectiveness was one of the best parts of his character, and Arthur was unsure if such a suggestion was a complement or a criticism. His desire to defend, to help and support his friends, extended to not wanting to see them in pain. The time two years ago when Elyan and Gwen had lost their mother had been one of the most trying experiences of his life, and mostly because he simply couldn't do anything to make things right.
That upwelling of protectiveness swelled within him upon seeing Emrys crying, so unsuccessfully struggling to withhold his sobs. Arthur didn't know why –Emrys was hardly his friend, so why should he care? – but he put it down to the very fact that he was crying and Arthur hated seeing people cry. Anybody. He himself hadn't cried since he was seven, since the time that his father had sat him down for a very serious talk and had fully explained to him that his mother was gone and was never coming back. Since then he'd resolved never to shed a tear, no matter what.
The second thought was remarkably similar to that Leon had voiced. Arthur couldn't imagine crying as Emrys did, in the middle of the Entrance Hall for everyone to see. It would be absolutely humiliating.
He stopped just short of the trio huddled beside the door and stared at them with a mixture of wariness, sympathetic embarrassment and curiosity. Gwen was rubbing Emrys' shoulder soothingly, muttering words too quiet to be heard, but what was really surprising was that Morgana appeared to be doing the same. Not patting him, for Morgana was not one that partook of public displays of affection, but attempting verbal reassurances nonetheless.
"… can do is just go and see, yes? Uther surely couldn't forbid you leave under such circumstances. Family issues – or friend issues, for that matter – should always be prioritised over classes."
Arthur raised his eyebrows at that. It would have to be the first time he'd ever heard such a statement from Morgana. He wasn't entirely sure whether she was being genuine or just attempting to comfort Emrys. For his part, Emrys hardly seemed to hear her at all, nodding but in a distracted way that mirrored the distant focus of his eyes trained on the floor.
"I'll come with you, if you'd like," Morgana continued. "I've known Uther for a long time and he'd surely listen to me if I asked him for a favour. Perhaps a portkey? Come, Merlin, calm down. We'll just go and see him."
"Crying isn't going to help anything. No one is worth your tears, anyway."
At his words, both Gwen and Morgana snapped their attention towards Arthur. It was disconcerting how similar they looked in expression in that moment, especially considering what different people they were. Not that Arthur regretted his words – they were what he truly felt, after all – but he suddenly wished he hadn't spoken them quite so readily. At least, he didn't regret them immediately.
Not until Emrys affixed him with a glare that could surely kill had his magic been behind it. Arthur certainly felt his magic respond to his sudden anger, icy winds sharpening to a focus and snapping at him like a whip-crack. "Shut the fuck up, Arthur. I'm allowed to cry if I bloody well want to."
His voice was thick with tears and far too quiet and croaking to be a shout, dissolving into audible sobs a moment later. Gwen's and Morgana's attention snapped back to him immediately with mirroring expressions of surprise, a surprise that Arthur found himself similarly struck by. That was the first time he'd ever seen Emrys really angry. Or, well, there was the time at the quidditch pitch over the issue of Valiant, but that seemed more vexed than angry. This was a different kind of anger entirely.
"I beg your pardon?" Arthur said, falling back to affront as his go-to.
"You can just pull your nose out of it, Arthur," Gwen said, shaking herself from her surprise and giving him a glance as sharp as her tone. "You're not being of any help."
"If you really want to be of use, take yourself and your little audience there away," Morgana added, her tone coldly demanding.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at his friends shifting awkwardly at her words, at the few other students milling around behind watching with curious frowns. If you really want to be of use…
Frowning, pressing his lips together with a decisive nod, he spared his friends another momentary glance. "Leon, you guys head into the Great Hall. And take them with you, if you could." Arthur jerked his head towards the watching students, who started guiltily and edged away barely a step or two at most. "I'll be along in a bit."
Leon blinked in surprise, gaze flickering between Arthur and the group standing just before him. 'What? What are you going to do?"
Arthur turned back towards Emrys, ignoring Morgana's hard, forbidding stare and Gwen's warily curious one. Emrys still glared at him, but the effect was lost somewhat by the continued watering of his eyes and the hiccup he didn't quite manage to conceal. "Well, Morgana thinks I should be of use," he drawled, raising an eyebrow at his friend. It only succeeded in eliciting a spark in her eyes. "And if she thinks she might be able to convince my father of something, she's got nothing upon my persuasion skills."
Morgana rolled her eyes, but a definite twist of satisfaction quirked at her lips. She glanced up at Emrys, who actually appeared focused enough to return her gaze as he scrubbed at his cheeks. "He's right, unfortunately. For perhaps the first time in his life."
"Of course I'm right," Arthur said, dismissing her insult. He turned on his heel and began a long-legged stride back up the steps he'd just descended. "Come on, then. If I'm going to 'be of use', then we may as well get on with it."
He didn't glance over his shoulder to make sure they followed. Of course they would. Why wouldn't they? He was reassured nonetheless by as he climbed the stairs, however, when Gwen muttered a quite, "God, he's so presumptuous."
Morgana's reply of, "Of course he is. Presumptuous is his middle name. Right alongside Pig-headed, Arrogant and Pain in the Arse. That, and Stupidly Desperate to Prove Himself, for whatever ungodly reason he's tossing around these days." Gwen gave a small mew that could have been objection or agreement. Arthur found he preferred not knowing.
His own objections were only quelled by the knowledge that to turn and angrily reply would do him more harm than good. That, and the fact that there was no one around to hear the comment as they alighted the stairs, leaving the spectating students in the Entrance Hall behind him. Well, except for Emrys, but for some reason that didn't bother Arthur quite so much. Perhaps only because he thought that, as far as insults went, the Slytherin boy had probably thought up of them all already.
The Headmaster's office was empty. Or at least it was empty of Arthur's father. As he stepped through the doorway at the top of the slowly elevating stairwell, he swept a quick glance around the room. The predominance of red and gold left no allusions as to the house that Uther was once a part of, and likely suggested just as obviously that he still favoured it. A round room of high windows and walls rich with portraits of past headmasters, Arthur had always found it largely impersonal. Even with the expansive desk of ancient mahogany at the very centre of the room, the low bookshelves beneath those portraits, groaning beneath nameless books and magical devices that rested in stillness. The only realsource of homeliness and welcome in the largely sparse room, the only thing removed from the flat professionalism of the Headmaster's role, was the tall fireplace that flickered mutedly in opposite curve of the wall.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Gwen, Morgana and Emrys as they stepped into the room behind him. Arthur, with the prestige of being the headmaster's son, had the password and the access to the office that even Morgana wasn't afforded. Arthur didn't bother attempting to hide his satisfaction for that fact, had even casually asked Morgana how she'd intended to seek Uther's audience without such access on their trip over. He hadn't looked over his shoulder expectantly in the absence of her verbal reply but could feel the stabbing sentiment of her glare nonetheless.
Unfortunately, Uther was not present. Evidently. And just as unfortunately – or at least in Arthur's opinion – when he turned to state the obvious to his tag-alongs, Emrys was still crying. Silently, giving him his due if broken occasionally by muted hiccups, but that dripping tap of his tears seemed as yet unstoppered. It set Arthur's teeth on edge. Not that he cared for Emrys – he didn't, not really – but couldn't he just stop crying?
"Well, this was a wasted trip." He glanced between the three, at the varying degrees of irritation settled upon each of their faces. "Are you actually going to tell me what this is all about now? I'd like to know why I made the effort."
"You didn't have to 'make the effort'," Morgana sniffed. Then, striding past him into the office proper, she naturally fell to ignoring him. Gwen shook her head, as though scolding Arthur for a perceived slight, before turning to Emrys who had adopted an expression of mixed disappointment and mounting grief. Arthur was surprised to see that such an expression was nearly as bad to look upon as his continued crying and tearful anger.
"Gwen," Arthur asked, attempting to keep his tone respectful and as kindly as possible. "You could at least tell me."
Gwen always caved to openness and sincerity. Arthur knew that and used it to his advantage, though of course he'd never admit to doing such. Gwen turned a worried frown towards him, and Arthur could see that she was just on the verge of speaking when a loud "Ah-hah!" sounded behind him.
He turned to find Morgana kneeling elegantly – for everything was always done in elegance when it came to Morgana – before the fireplace. The green fire, coloured with the Floo powder that she was dusting off her fingers in a shower of silvery motes. She turned a triumphant smile towards them. "I had suspected that Uther would have access to the Floo network."
"Can't all of Hogwarts fireplaces connect with the Floo?" Gwen asked, her tone confused.
"Yes, but usually only Floo messaging – you can tell because the flames are more yellow than green. Uther obviously ensures that he could travel through the network should it be necessary." Morgana turned her self-satisfied smile towards the fireplace as she rose to her feet before sparing a glance for them once more. Or, more correctly, for Emrys. "Come on, Merlin. This will be quicker than waiting for Uther to return and trying to talk a portkey out of him."
Emrys was already striding past Arthur, Gwen following in his wake with a concerned frown settling upon her brow, before he managed to speak. "You – you're just going to go through the Floo? Without permission or supervision?" He was detachedly gratified to notice Gwen slight nod, likely unconsciously, as her step hesitated momentarily. Gwen had always been one to follow school rules.
"I believe that's rather self explanatory," Morgana replied, not even glancing at Arthur as she picked up the bowl of Floo powder and offered it to Emrys. "I did just say that, Arthur."
"But – but you shouldn't be doing that, Morgana. The headmaster will be furious, and no matter how serious the reason –"
"Oh, do shut up, Arthur. I know you've always been one to do what you're told, but some cases call for drastic measures." She still hadn't turned from Emrys, who had scooped up a handful of the powder and was staring at the fireplace with his back to Arthur. There was a set in his stance that Arthur read as determination; he'd seen something of it before in him. Arthur wondered if he was still crying.
Morgana briefly touched his shoulder in a way that was encouraging and almost affectionate. "Go on, Merlin. I'll be right behind you."
"You don't have to come," Emrys murmured, his voice thick, quiet and still faintly choked.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. What kind of person would I be if I left you to go by yourself? Of course I'm coming." Morgana actually smiled to take the sting out of her reprimand and that said more than any words she could have given. Arthur realised instantly that, for some unknown reason, somehow, Morgana truly did like Emrys. He'd heard the rumours that the darling of Slytherin had adopted a puppy of sorts, and had similarly heard the rumours that said puppy was Emrys, but he hadn't quite believed it to be more than a passing fancy. Not even after the tales of Morgana actually approaching – and talking to! – Emrys in the Great Hall a few days ago.
But then Morgana did that sometimes. Not spoke to others – she collected things. Or people. Most she treated with disregard, but on the rare occasion she would take to someone or something, she threw herself into her care entirely. Like the kitten that she'd found when she was nine, the scrawny thing a menace and the bane of Arthur's existence. Maybe that was part of the reason why she liked it so much. The bloody creature was still alive, though blessedly Morgana left it with her elder sister during the school year.
Morgana had evidently taken to Emrys in much the same way that she had the kitten: wholeheartedly, protectively and viciously defensive when anyone challenged her right to do so. He saw it in the way that she spared Arthur a flicker of a glance after she spoke that simply forbade him from commenting on her resolution to accompany Emrys to wherever he was going.
Unfortunately, her words had an effect on Gwen, too. Shaking herself from her concerned, by-the-books schoolgirl attitude, Gwen schooled her expression into a hardened determination of her own and stepped up to Emrys' side. "I'm coming too," she said, touching him gently on the shoulder.
"Guinevere –" Arthur began, but found himself cut off by the once more identical glares Gwen and Morgana shot him. Emrys was stepping towards the fireplace a moment later, and cast the powder into the fire with a muttered "Healer's Cottage, Ealdor". The flames sparked and spluttered, flaring an even brighter green for the second before Emrys seemed to bodily trip into the fireplace with remarkable clumsiness. Maybe his tears blinded him somewhat? He disappeared in a flicker and spit of flames.
"You can't honestly think you can go –" Arthur began again, his agitation rising. But he wasn't given a chance to finish once more as, without a backwards glance, Gwen disappeared into the fireplace a moment later. He was left silenced in her wake for a moment before he snapped his attention to Morgana. "Really, Morgana, Father won't be happy about this."
"Quite honestly, Arthur, I care so little about what Uther thinks of my actions in this instance that it is barely worth considering." Morgana affixed him with a flat stare. "And you will not tell him. Hopefully we'll be back before he gets the chance to return and notice we're gone."
"But where are you going?" Arthur demanded, voice rising as he saw the barest possibility of him urging his friend to remain behind dwindle into nothingness. "Emrys said Ealdor. Isn't that in Ireland? What are you going to Ireland for?"
Morgana pressed her lips together thinly. "Really, Arthur, it is none of your business. You've used up all the usefulness you could provide in this situation. Now run along. I've a friend to help through a trying time." And without another word she turned from him and stepped through the fireplace.
Arthur was left staring indignantly at her afterimage. Used up his usefulness? Well, that was just unfair! Arthur wasn't useless, even if he didn't know what was going on. He didn't much care for Emrys – honestly, he didn't – and didn't consider him terribly much outside of the fact that he knew he still owed him for saving him. Owed him twice, unfortunately. But suddenly he actually wanted to help. Arthur may be many things but he was never useless. Ever. And even knowing that Morgana had likely said the words as a means of reverse psychology or some such intention, because Morgana always played mind tricks on just about everyone, he couldn't suppress his need to tag along. It was both to prove his usefulness by whatever means necessary, as well as ensuring that his two friends didn't make a fool or a danger of themselves.
His feet were moving for him before he'd even fully registered that he'd decided to follow them. A brief ripple of warmth, the disembodied wreching and squeezing, the breathlessness and tugging of Floo travel, and he was ducking through the other end of the opened passage. The lick of green flames at his back died moments later, closing the gateway as the Floo network fizzled shut.
The room Arthur stepped into was small, cluttered with couches and a wall of bookshelves and another wall that depicted a mural of sorts, like a moving picture of scenery, of shrubs and unfamiliar flowers and thin reeds drifting slightly as if in a breeze. It was empty, absent of Morgana, or Gwen, or Emrys, but it only took a moment of tilting his head to listen before Arthur was setting off through the room in the direction of voices. Down a narrow hallway, he set his feet upon the bottom steps and had just begun to climb before he paused, urging himself to stop. To listen.
"… can't seem to shake it and it's only drawing more heavily from him," an unfamiliar woman's voice murmured just loud enough to for her thick Corkish accent to be heard. "I've not seen anything like it before. I suspect it was likely the product of accidental magic. Only an accident."
"You know who is was though, right?" The voice, Emrys' voice, was surprisingly hard and devoid of the thickness and wavering of tears that had afflicted it before. "You know, Mum, surely you know. Everyone would know –"
"Yes, I can hazard a guess. But my suspicions can't be proved unless someone admits to it." The woman interrupted him with a sigh. "It was an accident, Merlin. None of them would have the capacity to deliberately enact such a curse upon another person. Something like this, something Dark, requires malicious intent or pure happenstance."
"And you're so sure it's not the first?"
"Don't make accusations, Merlin," the woman replied shortly, with a touch of hardness to her tone that mirrored Emrys' almost exactly. It softened a moment later, however. "I know you're upset. I'm so sorry, my love. Truly, I am so sorry. I wish there was more that I could do, but there isn't. And baselessly accusing someone of deliberately injuring another person –"
"It's not baseless. You know Kanen doesn't like him. He hates both of us, and -" Emrys cut himself off, and there was that faint warble in his tone. Arthur imagined that the he'd had likely begun crying once more. The thought clenched Arthur's gut in discomfort and he was so focused upon ridding himself of the thought that he nearly missed the next words. "Can I… can I see him? Can I do anything?"
The woman sighed heavily. "Of course you can. Jorge and Maree are sitting with him, of course, but I'm sure they'll appreciate the company. But Merlin… I don't think there is anything you can do. Not unless…" She trailed off, though Arthur was left with the distinct impression that her unspoken words were relayed anyway. A moment later, the faint thump of footsteps sounded down the hallway overhead, the click of a door opened and the repeated click a moment later when it closed once more.
Arthur quietly climbed the stairs, peering upwards at the dimly lit landing that now held only two people upon it. Morgana, naturally, didn't appear surprised to see him in the least, though Gwen started and blinked rapidly. "Arthur? What are you doing here?"
Silent until he fell into place next to them, leaning against the strip of pale wall between two of only three doors visible, Arthur shrugged with what he hoped resembled casualness. "I could hardly let the two of you come by yourselves. You'll get in enough trouble as it is from the headmaster for coming. Maybe with my being here too he'll be less angry."
Gwen's face adopted an expression of concern, of genuine worry that spoke of her natural inclination towards following the rules once more, before she appeared to deliberately thrust the notion aside and hardened her resolve. "It doesn't matter if we get in trouble. We couldn't just let Merlin come by himself. You should have seen him in Charms, Arthur. He looked terrible."
Arthur did not care terribly for Emrys, nor for how terrible he'd looked, but he would admit to a flicker of curiosity welling within him. Folding his arms, he flickered his gaze between the two girls. "Are you actually going to tell me what's going on now? I heard what they – what Emrys and his mother, was it? – what they said. I know half the story already. And besides, it's the least you could do after I, you know, stuck my neck out for you."
Gwen's face immediately fell into a frown, and Morgana predictably rolled her eyes. "No one asked you to do anything, Arthur," Gwen said accusingly, folding her arms across her chest.
"Even so, I still did. And it did help you, didn't it? Don't I at least deserve to know what it was that I helped you with?"
Morgana heaved a heavy sigh that was surely heard by every occupant of the house, but Arthur allowed it when she replied a moment later. "If you must know, I'll tell you. But breath a word of it to anyone, Arthur, and you'll rue the day you were born. I'll make sure of it."
It was Arthur's turn to roll his eyes. "Terrified, Morgana, I'm absolutely terrified."
Morgana harrumphed, leaning back against the wall alongside him, but she did speak after a deliberately extended pause. "From what I can gather, Merlin actually seems to know more about the situation in some ways than his mother does."
"What do you mean?" Gwen asked, interrupting with fluttering blinks of surprise.
"I mean," Morgana continued, "that I think his friend, Will – I don't believe he was injured by means of magic quite as accidental as Mrs Emrys believes." She pursed her lips. "I suspect that perhaps this is not the first time that Merlin and his friend have encountered difficulties with this Kanen fellow and his cronies."
Arthur found himself frowning. Morgana had given him precious little actual information, but he was already piecing the situation together. Emrys' friend – this Will – had been injured. Apparently terribly injured, and also apparently by accident. Or accidental magic, as the woman who must have been Mrs Emrys had stated. But Morgana seemed to think it was otherwise, and if the brief words he'd overheard from Emrys himself were anything to go by, so did he.
Which leant towards suggesting… "Bullied." Arthur raised his eyes towards Morgana, who met him stare for stare unblinkingly. "His friend was bullied. That's what you think happened? Bullied and cursed in the process?"
Morgana nodded, a barely perceivable tilt of her head. "That would be my guess, yes. Not quite the accidental magic that Mrs Emrys appears to think it. Malicious? Oh, I believe it most certainly is." Her lip curled and the flash in her eyes drew a shiver down Arthur's spine in a way that made him sorely grateful that he'd never been the subject of such focus before.
"Bullies?" Gwen's hand rose to clasp over her mouth, her eyes widening. "You think it was bullies that did it? That nearly – that might have even killed Merlin's friend. And… and…" she swallowed audibly. "You think it might have happened before? Do you think that Merlin was bullied by them?"
Arthur flinched, both at her suggestion and at her revelation. Nearly killed? Almost killed? That was how serious it was? And the product of bullying, no less? He shook his head. "I despise bullying."
Morgana snorted. "Oh, yes, very easy for you to say, Arthur, you hypocrite. What do you call what happened with Michael Morris earlier this year?"
"It's called retaliation," Arthur growled. "Morris started it, and he's been the one who's been poking at me for years first. I just had to put a stop to it. Nothing even happened anyway."
"And I'm sure you needed the assistance of your holiday seniors to do 'nothing'?" Morgana replied sarcastically.
"They didn't do anything," Arthur repeated, biting his words off angrily. He was angered by more than just Morgana's suggestion. "They just let him know that he had to back off or else we'd take it further. And only because he wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him to stop like a rational person."
"Taking it further? That's reassuring me of your fairness, oh yes indeed."
"I meant taking it to the professors," Arthur ground out. He wasn't in the mood for splitting hairs with Morgana, even less because he didn't particularly like to recall what had happened the previous holiday. And not only because it had hardly made a dint in Morris' attitude – the whole situation around meeting Emrys for the first time was a bit of a black mark in his memory.
No, Arthur was angry. He was angry at the prospect of what had truly happened in this situation that he knew next to nothing about. He was angry on behalf of a boy that he had precious little to do with, that he'd disliked for most of their acquaintance and that he uncomfortably knew he owed a significant amount to for the rest of it.
Emrys had been bullied. Or at least his friend had, and it wasn't just playful teasing, largely harmless or even mildly distressing but eventually able to be moved past. This was serious. This was dangerous and this friend of Emrys'… had he really nearly been killed? Cursed so that he was, what, dying? Who would even do such a thing? Such a curse would surely require a significant amount of malicious intent to cast, even accidentally. Or perhaps especially accidentally.
He didn't realise he was grinding his teeth until Gwen murmured that she could hear him from where she stood leaning on the bannister. Raising his gaze from where he'd been glaring at the pale carpet beneath his feet, he glanced sidelong towards Morgana. "What are we going to do?"
Morgana raised an eyebrow. "What are we going to do?"
"Yes, we. I'm here too, now, so get used to the idea. I may as well help in any way that I can." He felt his face settle into a frown, refastening his gaze upon his toes. "Surely there's something we can do."
Arthur could just see from his periphery the considering stare Morgana settled upon him. "The best thing we can do would be to offer Merlin support if and when he needs it. We can be the ones to offer it when he seeks that support."
Arthur didn't like to wait. Or more correctly, he didn't like to wait when such waiting was entirely unproductive. Besides, if Emrys did need something from his friends, it would be Gwen and, as he had come to understand, Morgana who would offer it to him. Arthur would most likely be dismissed outright, perhaps with a passing glare and an accusing "What are you doing here?" if Emrys' single statement towards him that afternoon was any indication.
"So we just wait?"
"There's not really anything else we can do."
"It will likely be a while we'll be waiting," Arthur muttered, eyes still downcast.
"Yes, quite a while, I could imagine," Morgana agreed. "I'd say at least an hour." She paused, then continued with casual observation that Arthur heard as anything but, "I wonder how many people are in this town? I've heard that Ealdor is not very big. I'm sure everybody knows everybody."
Ignoring Gwen's curiously raised eyebrow, Arthur slowly turned towards Morgana. "Not very big at all, I shouldn't think. It would probably take less than an hour to cross the entire town and come back."
"Certainly," Morgana nodded. "And I'm sure that everyone would know everyone. Besides, there would surely be few enough young witches and wizards in count. He shouldn't be terribly hard to find."
"What are you…?" Gwen asked, her curiosity shifting to confusion and mild worry.
But Arthur was nodding. This. This he could do. This he was good at. Being productive. Besides, what he could do it wasn't bullying, not when it was in retaliation. And not when it was on a plane of equal footing. Arthur did not bully. He turned towards the stairwell once more without another word.
"Arthur? Where are you going?" Gwen called quietly after him as he hastened down the stairs. Arthur didn't reply.
"You know, I think I might fancy a walk myself," Morgana said casually, and Arthur didn't need to turn to know she was following him. "Smith, you can wait here, yes? I doubt Merlin will be out with any promptness but just in case."
"I… yes, yes I'll wait here." With a glance behind him, Arthur saw Gwen, innocent, kindly Gwen, nodding but frowning in continued confusion. "But where are you going? Arthur?"
Arthur didn't reply. He would rather maintain Gwen's innocence, at least for a little longer. Not that he was going to do anything to Kanen. Not anything permanent. But…
Arthur really didn't like bullies.
