Harry was relieved to know that Dumbledore hadn't found something dangerous in the hospital room, but he held off telling him what it was, and asked he come and see for himself. Everyone else was left in McGonagall's office, while Harry and Dumbledore walked the hall through the gales of people and staff wondering what was going on.
"I believe you'll all know soon enough!" Dumbledore declared, "But for now, Mr. Potter and I need to have a moment alone with it!"
Harry passed Lily once again, and couldn't take his eyes off her.
"Mr. Potter?" She asked and her voice was soft and sweet, full of curiosity.
Harry opened his mouth as if to speak, but he couldn't say a word. By the time he thought to even say hello he had walked past her and was heading down the hospital corridor. He kept his eyes behind him on her, until he walked into the Hospital Ward. Lily's friends were smiling and looking between her and him.
Dumbledore closed the door behind them, and all thoughts of Lily passed as he looked ahead at the figure of a man, who now had taken full form and wasn't red anymore. He was normal colors – dark bluish robes – brown sandals – leathery skin as if he'd spent too much time outside. He looked about forty years old, with a scraggly dark beard that went to his chest. The only unusual thing about him was that he was semi-opaque.
"So," Dumbledore said gaily, "you have brought us Merlin, the greatest wizard who ever lived!"
Harry took a deep breath and let it out. Dumbledore wasn't kidding, but Harry had no idea what this meant. This…this ghost was Merlin?
Harry walked up to the ghost, who was smiling at him. He was missing two teeth, had most of his wrinkles around its eyes, and his nose was quite large. Suddenly the ghost nodded in greeting and started talking, but he wasn't saying any words that Harry could understand.
"What's he saying?" Harry asked.
"It's an ancient language. Merlin – or Myrddin as he calls himself – is Welsh, born in the year 540. But he's speaking an early form of French. As it turns out, he and I have that language in common. Oui, c'est lui," Dumbledore said, nodding.
"Bonjour," Harry said, which was perhaps the only French word he knew.
Dumbledore smiled and said, "He knows nothing about Sir Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, by the way."
"You asked him?" Harry asked incredulously, and Dumbledore looked sheepish.
Harry looked back at – Merlin – and continued, "What was his ghost doing in the jewel?"
Merlin suddenly grabbed his forehead as if he were in great pain. Harry jerked in surprise – he knew that sort of motion personally…it meant something was coming to mind that he had no control over. He watched the ghost rub his head as if a great headache, and then Merlin looked up at him and said something quickly in French.
Whatever he said, it sobered Dumbledore up quickly.
"You know it is legend that he was a prophet?"
"Yes, of course," Harry said – Merlin was a very popular topic of assignment here at this school.
Dumbledore looked at Harry, and Harry felt his heart begin to race.
"Well…he just told me that…you…" Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking very nervous now. He went on, "He said you will become the most terrible...and powerful…dark wizard…ever to live."