A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviews!
Yeah, I know I said I'd update on Saturday, but my sister stole my laptop charger, I got distracted by the new Merlin episode (OMG!), and I was out all day Sunday on Remembrance Day parades, so, to make it up ... here's a nice long update for you!
Enjoy! :)
"Have some more bacon, dear," Mrs Weasley said fondly, trying to pile more of the stuff onto Merlin's plate.
"No, Mrs Weasley, really, I'm full," Merlin said, and he meant it. Even after years of feasting in Camelot and Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley's cooking was severely testing him. He soon feared he'd lose the skinny frame he'd had all his life. If only Arthur could see him now- he'd laugh himself silly.
She frowned a little. "I do wish you'd eat more, dear. You're far too thin."
Merlin barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Gwen, his mother, and even Gaius had all said the same thing at one time or another.
"Really," he said firmly. He leaned back in his chair at the Weasley's breakfast table. He could get far too used to this.
"What are you planning on doing today then?" Mrs Weasley asked, starting to clear away the table.
"Going back to Hogwarts," Merlin answered immediately. Harry and the others had gone back last night and he was anxious to join them.
Mrs Weasley sniffed. "I wish you'd rest that arm more. It was a really bad injury!"
Merlin stopped himself from sighing. "Yes, but you read the letter from St. Mungo's," he said, waving said letter; a dishevelled Errol had delivered it that morning and promptly dropped it into his pumpkin juice. "They said I have to go in to have the bandages removed and I should be free to go back to school."
She didn't look convinced. "How do they know? They haven't even examined it yet!"
Merlin smiled. "Even if they said no, I'd still go back. I can't stay away from Harry."
She nodded but looked a little sad. She turned away to the sink and stood there like a statue.
"I wish you didn't have to," she said softly, still not looking at him.
"I've had much worse injuries than this, Mrs Weasley," he said, trying to reassure her. "You don't have to worry."
"But I do!" she said, and Merlin was shocked to hear her voice rather emotional. "I worry all the time! It's all I can do!"
She took a few deep breaths. "I worry all the time …" she said, her voice trailing away to a whisper.
Merlin watched her back. "You care," he said, softly. "The people you love are in danger. You'd be a monster if you didn't worry."
She shook her head. "I'm so afraid. I don't want them all to be in the Order. I can't bear the thought of them all being in danger. But I know I can't stop them. Goodness knows they all have a right to fight against him. But … when I thought Harry was dead during the battle … I can't go through that again! I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose any of my children! Not like I lost my brothers!"
Merlin felt an aching feeling in his heart. She suffered so much. That was the curse of the people who loved without restraint.
He stood up and moved behind her slowly.
"You won't," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You asked me once, when I was still just Martin Emrys, if I would protect them, and I promised you I would. I hold to that. I will protect them with my life."
She shook her head, and turned around to face him, her eyes suspiciously wet. "That's just the thing," she said. "I worry about you. I haven't known you long … but I still feel responsible for you, and I don't want to lose you either! I'm being ridiculous I know," she said, laughing slightly. "You're perfectly capable of protecting yourself, I know that. You're far older and more powerful than even Dumbledore was. But I just can't help it!"
Merlin was frozen in surprise for a moment. A strange feeling was spreading through him. She was worried about him, actually worried. He hadn't experienced someone worrying about him in … he couldn't remember when. In Camelot, everyone had known how powerful he was, even if Arthur did occasionally did worry about him and his general carelessness, and in the years since, he'd never allowed himself to get close enough to anyone to let them be worried for his safety. It was slightly absurd thinking that a woman a mere fraction of his age was worried about him, but it also felt … nice.
"I'm touched," he said sincerely, feeling oddly emotional himself. "But I assure you, I can look after myself."
She shook her head sadly. "That's what they all say. Until they're dead."
Merlin put his good arm over hers, and looked directly into her eyes. "It isn't my destiny to die here," he said seriously. "Nor is it Harry's. I have faith in that. There is a greater purpose for the both of us. I have to kill Morgana, and Harry has to kill Voldemort. That's just the way things are. But we're never given anything we can't handle. The Old Religion runs through the both of us. It will protect us."
"The Old Religion runs through them too," Mrs Weasley said. "Why should it protect you and not them?"
Merlin grinned, letting the worry on his face drain away. "Because, it likes me better."
Mrs Weasley looked at the grin on his face in confusion for a moment, before smiling herself. "That makes no sense to me whatsoever."
Merlin shrugged. "Me neither," he admitted. "But life often doesn't make sense. But we have to trust in it anyway."
She shook her head and turned around to resume clearing up. "What is it with powerful old men?" she wondered aloud. "First Dumbledore, now you. You're all insane."
Merlin laughed. "It's just part of the job."
Harry seemed to drift through the day at Hogwarts in some sort of crazy dream. He sat in his classes, he did his work, he walked around the corridors just like normal, but nothing felt real. Not after what had happened at the weekend. He'd just discovered one of his friends was the legendary Merlin. It was a bit too much.
It felt oddly strange not to have Martin beside him in classes. Every time he'd look over at his empty seat, he'd remember, and the sense that this was all a crazy dream returned. Had it actually happened? Could he have imagined it all?
But the other students didn't continue letting him think this for long. They stood in small groups whispering furiously about the attack and the mysterious new female Death Eater. Their eyes followed Harry and his friends even more than usual; they all knew they'd been in Hogsmeade.
Harry sat at dinner that night and stared at his full plate, not in the least hungry. He glanced up at the staff table to see McGonagall, Hagrid, Flitwick and Sprout deep in discussion, not even as much as glancing at their food. Harry wondered if they were talking about Hogsmeade, Morgana, the Cup or Merlin. Perhaps it was all of them.
He sighed and looked around the Hall. It was slightly emptier than usual. Many parents had immediately withdrawn their children from the school after the attack. McGonagall had implemented new security measures- all Hogsmeade visits were suspended until the powerful wards that surrounded the castle could be extended right along the path to Hogsmeade and around the village itself. But that would take time, and parents didn't want to risk it.
Hermione was looking around as well. "Don't they realise how much safer it is here?" she said, noting a rather large gap at the Hufflepuff table.
"Is it though?" Ron asked through his food. "Their kids were attacked on a school trip."
"Yes, but with all the new security-"
"Security isn't fool proof. You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters managed to get in here in May."
Hermione frowned. "Yes, but the wards weren't as powerful then," she argued. "Merlin's magic is much more-"
"Yeah, but how would you explain that to the parents?" Ron pointed out. "'Oh it's okay, your kids are safe. We've got Merlin protecting the castle'?"
"Shh," hissed Harry, all too aware that conversations in Hogwarts were easily overheard and Hermione and Ron's arguments tended to get rather loud.
"Fine," said Ron huffily. "We can't tell them about … Martin … so it's essentially useless for reassuring parents. And besides, who says his protection is that powerful? Morg- his friend -can use that magic as well! We might be safe from You-Know-Who, but maybe not from her."
"But Kilgharrah said Martin's magic is more powerful than hers!"
"Yeah," said Ron sombrely. "But she's overpowered him before. And You-Know-Who managed to find a loophole in Martin's spell so he could free her. Who says he can't do the same thing again?"
Harry had nothing to say to this. He trusted Merlin, of course he did. He knew how powerful and wise he was. But he had been compromised in the past. Even Dumbledore had been occasionally outwitted. And Merlin had a grudge against Morgana; a hated so powerful Harry knew he could never understand. He might be being careless in his determination to kill her.
Harry tried to shake these defeatist thoughts out of his head. He was Merlin, and above all, he was Martin, their friend. He had to have faith in him.
"You lot look pretty miserable," said Seamus, leaning over from the opposite side of the table. "Where's Martin?"
"He got injured in the attack," Hermione said, when she noticed Harry and Ron were making no attempt to answer. "He'll be back tonight."
Seamus' eyes widened. "I'd heard he was involved. There's some crazy rumour going around that he fought her and drove her off."
They were silent, and Seamus' eyes went even wider, and Dean, who'd been listening in leaned in closer as well.
"He didn't did he?" Dean asked. "Whoa! Did he use that Druid magic stuff?"
Harry didn't know what to say. How much should they disclose?
"Who was that woman anyway?" Seamus asked. "She was powerful wasn't she? I saw the mess she made of the High Street."
Harry breathed in and glanced around. "We can't tell you, at least not here," he said. "The Order knows, and we're dealing with it. Kingsley doesn't want it made public just yet."
They both frowned.
"What, you don't trust us?" Dean asked, looking slightly hurt. "We're a part of the DA, aren't we? We fought with you in the battle, didn't we?"
"Yes, but-" Harry began, but broke off at the looks on their faces. He sighed and looked around at Ron and Hermione, who looked uncertain. "What do you think?" he asked them.
Hermione bit her lip. "They deserve to know," she said. "We're all fighting together, aren't we? But … I think Martin should decide."
Ron nodded, and Harry agreed with them. This was Merlin's decision. He turned back to Dean and Seamus.
"Wait until Martin gets back," he said. "Then we'll see whether to tell the DA or not."
"Why him?" asked Seamus, frowning. "Why him especially?"
Harry almost laughed. "You'll find out eventually … probably. This is his secret to tell."
They nodded, and turned back to their meals, looking slightly more satisfied- they respected Harry's decision, even if they were impatient for the truth.
Harry motioned for Ron and Hermione to come closer. "Do you think this is a good idea? Can the DA be trusted?"
"Smith can't," Ron said, casting a dirty glance over to the Hufflepuff table.
"He didn't grass on the DA last time around," Harry pointed out. "It's the first-years I'm worried about. Finding out one of the most famous sorcerers ever to live is in the room with them, centuries after he was supposed to have died? Think they'd manage to keep it secret?"
Hermione bit her lip again. "Maybe Martin knows a spell to keep the secret?"
"Like an Unbreakable Vow?"
"Yes, but not so drastic a punishment as death if they break it," said Hermione. "More like the Fidelius Charm, only modified to hide a secret and not a building."
"In any case, we'll have to wait for Martin to come back," said Harry. "If we're going to be fighting all together, I don't think we have a right to keep his identity from them. We couldn't anyway- Voldemort knows who Martin is. It'll only be a matter of time. Hopefully Martin will see that. I just hope he isn't afraid to tell them."
Hermione smiled. "I don't think he will be this time. He's glad he can be himself again. He's sick of the lies."
Harry nodded. "Good. We'll talk to him as soon as he gets back then."
He turned back to his still untouched meal. Beside it was lying an edition of the Evening Prophet, with the headline: Mysteries still remain. Who was Hogsmeade attacker? And what were her motives for the Muggle attacks? Underneath the words was a picture of a Muggle museum, with running and screaming figures. Just in the background was a blurred image of a dark-haired woman. Harry recognised Morgana without hesitation.
Just how long was this going to go on?
"Can you help us Mer-Martin?" Kingsley asked, walking into the Atrium of the Ministry.
Merlin sighed and flexed his shoulder, now free of its bandages. "Perhaps. Usually I would be able to sense the Cup's presence, but there's other artefacts of the Old Religion being studied down there in the Department of Mysteries. They might mask its presence. It might be a better idea to keep searching the archives. But, I'll certainly try."
Kingsley nodded. "That's all I'm asking."
They approached the golden gates at the end of the hall, and Kingsley escorted him to the side where a surly and badly-shaven wizard was sitting at a desk reading a newspaper, looking thoroughly bored.
Kingsley cleared his throat and the wizard looked up, and jumped to his feet, obviously not expecting the Minister for Magic himself to be looking down at him.
"Minister!" he yelled, and hurriedly threw away his newspaper and swept some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans wrappers off his desk. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"I'm escorting a visitor," said Kingsley, gesturing to Merlin, who was wearing a ridiculous badge saying 'Martin Emrys, Advisor to the Minister'.
The wizard peered at Merlin and frowned at the badge on his chest. "Bit young, ain't he? An advisor?"
Kingsley said nothing, and only smiled pointedly. The wizard took the hint.
"Right, well I'd best … um," he faffed about, scrambling to get the Probity Probe. He waved it in front of Merlin, front and back. It hummed slightly louder than usual and the wizard frowned. It was detecting Merlin's more powerful magic, but didn't know how to process it. Merlin held his breath, but the wizard shook his head and seemed to dismiss it.
"Can I have your wand please, sir?" he asked. Merlin handed it over, noting that the wizards he'd usually been examined by the few times he came here had been much ruder. He must be trying to impress the Minister.
The wizard took the wand and dropped it onto a brass instrument that looked like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate and a small strip of parchment came out of the base. The wizard took it with a flourish and read aloud:
"Eleven and a half inches, dragon scale core, been in use …" The wizard's eyes widened as the read the last part of the note.
"It's an antique," Merlin said, trying not to laugh at the man's expression, and holding out his hand for his wand. The wizard gave it to him and went back to his desk, still gaping at the note.
Merlin and Kingsley continued on through the Ministry towards the lifts, and Kingsley laughed. "That was interesting. Sorry about the security, but I want everything to appear normal. For all intents and purposes I'm taking you to my office to question you about the attack in Hogsmeade."
Merlin nodded. "It's alright. And I understand your desire for secrecy. But how long do you think it'll last? Or for that matter, how long should it last?"
Kingsley grimaced as the entered the lift. "That is still something I'm still considering. I'd rather wait until we had the Cup so the people know we have a way to defeat her, but then again, they deserve the right to protect themselves, we don't know how long it'll take us to find the Cup."
The lift descended deep within the Ministry. They emerged onto Level 9. "Department of Mysteries" the voice in the lift said, and Merlin got a chill through his spine as he once again felt the presence of Old Magic.
"Is it here?" Kingsley asked eagerly, seeing Merlin's changed expression.
Merlin shook his head. "I don't know yet. There's so much magic down here. Much of what you're studying here is Old Magic, you just didn't know it before now. The magic of the Old Religion is present in all things, love, death, time … that's why this place is like walking into the past for me. So much power …"
He shook himself. "Well, I'd better be going."
Kingsley escorted him down many corridors, not in the slightest bothered by the labyrinth passages. They came into some stone corridors, roughly-hewn, and the air became colder. Merlin looked around in interest.
"This was the original headquarters of the Wizard's Council, the predecessor to the Ministry," he said to Kingsley. "There were many wizards high up politically that infiltrated the British nobility, but when they met they preferred to do it in secret, deep underground so no one would discover them. They moved here sometime during the Roman invasions."
Kingsley looked around, his eyes interested. "So you remember when these passages were built?"
Merlin snorted indignantly. "How old do you think I am? The Romans had been gone at least two centuries before I was born! I do remember the Viking invasions though …"
Kingsley nodded, and tried to look nonchalant, but Merlin could see the wonder in his eyes. He smiled in response.
"I didn't know this place existed when I was young," he explained. "Arthur's kingdom was far away from London. It was the Roman wizards who moved here. They were the ones who really started the whole 'wand craze', Ollivander's family came over about the same time. They weren't very important in my day, but when the Old Religion began to decline more people turned to wand magic."
"So wand-users existed in your day?" Kingsley asked.
Merlin nodded. "Yes, but like I said, they weren't very important. It was a foreign idea, and it was only very slowly that the people of Britain were converted to using wands. After the Romans left, people went back to the Old Religion, but shifted back again when it declined. And now barely anyone remembers a time before wands."
"I came here once before, with Salazar Slytherin," Merlin said, still looking around and realising what direction they were heading. "The Wizards' Council weren't too happy with the ideas for the school, particularly about admitting Muggle-Borns, so we came here to speak with them."
"Slytherin convinced the Council to admit Muggle-Borns?"
"Yes," said Merlin softly. "He wasn't all bad, you know. We didn't have a great beginning, but we became friends eventually. We were united in our hatred of the Wizards' Council, I think. They were the very worst of Pure-Blood fanatics. The place we're heading to now used to be the Atrium of the old Headquarters."
Kingsley looked fascinated, but they were prevented from talking from more. They emerged into a cavernous room, with ceilings so high Merlin had to strain to see the top, filled with piles and piles of parchment and ancient books. Merlin was impressed. Even Geoffrey's library in Camelot didn't match this. It was certainly different from the last time he had come here, when it had been filled with Pure-Blooded and bigoted noblemen, creating laws to benefit themselves and ignoring the rest of the wizarding population. It made Merlin glad to see the room was now being put to good use.
A small mousy looking wizard came rushing up. "Minister, I'm glad you're here! We've been searching and searching but we just can't find anything! There's no references anywhere to what you mentioned! I'm at my wits end-"
"Thank you, Eric," said Kingsley, smiling. "Why don't you and your colleagues take a small break? Myself and my associate have some things we need to discuss. He may have a solution to our problem."
Eric looked at Merlin, bewildered, possibly wondering what possible help he could be. But he nodded, and motioned to several other witches and wizards who were hiding behind the shelves. They all traipsed out of the room and Merlin saw each one of them looked exhausted.
"Poor souls," said Kingsley, watching as they left. "This is the second time in only a few months I've asked them to search this entire room."
"I can see why they're tired," said Merlin looking around. "It would take years to search this place properly."
"And it doesn't help that no one bothered to organise it properly either over the years," agreed Kingsley. "Ancient wizards just kept piling their books one on top of the other. It's a storage room, rather than a library. Utterly useless for searching for a particular book."
Merlin nodded and grew quiet, thinking. He felt like a young man again, trying desperately to find some magical solution to his problems in Camelot in Gaius' library.
"What do you think?" Kingsley asked.
Merlin frowned. "It's possible there's something in here, but it'd take too long to search properly. Unless …"
He strode purposefully over to the nearest table and grabbed a thick book.
"Gecyðan mec hwā ic cunnian," he said, and he felt his eyes turn golden. He heard Kingsley's gasp and couldn't help but smile. It'd been so long since he'd been able to use his magic out in the open like this.
The book in his hand flipped open and the pages flashed by quicker than the blink of an eye, a small gust of wind being generated by the rapid passage of the pages. Eventually, it stopped.
Merlin read what was written there quickly.
"Nothing useful," he shrugged. "'The legendary Holy Grail is thought to be nothing more than a Muggle myth, and no evidence has ever been put forward for it once existing as a magical artefact.' This book's no use."
He got the next book and performed the same action. "Again, nothing useful. "'The Holy Grail is a myth and wizards who go on Quests to locate it are just fooling themselves.'"
He deposited it back on the table, and searched through the ten other books on that table. None of them even contained a mention of the Cup.
He sighed and turned back to Kingsley, who was watching him open-mouthed. "What?"
Kingsley just shook his head looking amazed. "Searching through those dozen books would have taken my people more than a day, allowing for time to translate them. You just accomplished it in a few minutes."
Merlin shrugged modestly. "I don't need to translate anything," he said. "I've encountered pretty much every language there is over the centuries. Even my own language has changed; English has gone through many mutations over the centuries until it's become almost unrecognisable. If Arthur were here he wouldn't understand a word I'm saying to you."
Kingsley just blinked, still looking awed. Then he laughed. "I should have expected this. I must try and get over the fact that I'm watching Merlin himself using magic."
Merlin smiled weakly. Then he looked around. "I'm afraid this method won't help the Unspeakables much," he said slowly. "I can't stay, I need to protect, Harry. But perhaps …"
He searched the desk in front of him. He found a large paperweight- a glass globe, looking almost like one of the prophecies in the Department. He held it flat in his hand.
"Gecyðan se scinnlǣca ōþer wælcyrie hwā hīe cunnian."
The paperweight glowed an intense blue for an instant and grew very hot. Merlin placed it down on the desk and held his hand over it.
"Gewyrcan fela māra." And where there had been one paperweight, there were now a dozen.
He tossed one to Kingsley who caught it expertly in one hand. "Give these to the Unspeakables."
Kingsley frowned. "What will they do?"
Merlin tossed a book at him. "Place the paperweight on the cover of the book and think about what you want to find."
Kingsley obliged, and the paperweight and the book glowed. Then the book flipped through its pages and opened on the page Merlin had read from a few moments previously.
Kingsley's face broke out into a broad grin. "This is magnificent! If only we'd had these a few months ago! Incredible magic!"
Merlin smiled. "I made one for Gaius many years ago. He found it hard to find the instructions for his remedies and potions in all his books as his memory and eyesight failed him. I wasn't sure if it would work this time- Gaius had known exactly what he was searching for, and could picture it precisely. But apparently it works for more general matters as well."
Kingsley closed the book and beamed at Merlin. "Very innovative," he nodded approvingly. "These will solve many of our problems."
Merlin nodded. "Good. So now there's one other matter to attend to."
He closed his eyes, and let his magic flow through his entire body and outside it, spreading out in every direction. He let it expand throughout the room, sending out tendrils of energy, searching. He felt the magic in his veins ignite like fire, filling him with a rush of power. He smiled even as the magic kept spreading out and filling his mind with what lay outside the room.
After an age, he opened his eyes. Kingsley was watching him strangely.
"I still can't be sure whether it's here or not," explained Merlin, feeling exhilarated from his intense use of magic; it wasn't often he got to do that. "There are definitely traces of the Old Religion here, but I can't isolate it. Our best bet is still searching through these records. In the meantime I'd best get back to Hogwarts."
Kingsley nodded, still looking at him strangely. "Very well. I expect you'll wish to search the castle as well?"
"Yes," said Merlin. "Rowena made reference to the 'Holy Grail' in her book, and considering the fact I never even knew she or the others had even heard about the Cup, there's a pretty good chance they may have hidden it in the castle."
He doubted it however.
Kingsley sighed. "I detest this uncertainty," he said bitterly. "I want to protect the people, but how can I when I'm going around in circles looking for an ancient Cup like a child on a treasure hunt? And if we fail to find it … our worst enemies will be immortal."
He looked thoroughly miserable, and Merlin frowned. "Don't be like that," he said bracingly. "Voldemort will also be vulnerable. Like a Horcrux. If you spill the blood from the Cup, he'll die."
"But it'll be more heavily guarded than anything we've ever encountered before."
"The last time I tried to get to the Cup," said Merlin smiling. "It was guarded by two evil sorceresses and an entire immortal army. Lancelot and I managed to get through them more or less on our own, and he was a Muggle. It can be done."
Then, his smile dropped. An idea had just come to him. Lancelot and he had had some help …
"I need to get back to Hogwarts."
"About time!" Ron called, as Merlin emerged into the Common Room that night. He and Harry had just returned from a Quidditch practise which had been thoroughly disastrous; Harry, Ron and Ginny were all too busy worrying about Merlin and the Cup.
"Yeah, sorry," said Merlin, sliding into a chair beside Hermione in front of the fire. "Kingsley asked me to go to Ministry with him to see if I could find the Cup."
"Did you?" Ron asked eagerly. Merlin raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, Ron, I did. That's why I'm jumping up and down in excitement."
Ron frowned and ignored Harry's chuckling. "Did you find anything?"
Merlin sighed. "Nope. But I did a couple of spells that'll hopefully make it easier for them to search through those archives. In the meantime I'll have to begin the search here. I'm not optimistic though; if the Cup is here, then either myself or the ghosts would have sensed it at some point over the years."
Harry tried to hide his disappointment.
"We'll get started right away," said Hermione, who was also flicking through some of the Founder's books. "I can't find anything in here, but then again, I can't read half of it."
"Give me Salazar's," said Merlin, holding out a hand, and Hermione deposited it in his palm. "He was always fascinated with ancient relics and the like. If any of them found it, I'd bet it was him."
"Yeah, slimy gits usually find all the treasure," said Ron, looking at the book in disgust.
Merlin scowled. "Don't speak ill of a man you never met."
Ron looked incredulous. "You're defending Slytherin? That pure-blood maniac?"
Merlin shook his head, looking sad. "He wasn't as bad as the legends say. Much of who he really was has been lost or subverted over time. He wasn't evil … just misguided."
Ron was still gaping at him. "So the Basilisk was just supposed to be the school pet?"
"The Basilisk was an attempt to warn Muggle-Borns of what would happen if they betrayed the school," Merlin explained. "He didn't trust them, and often for good reason. Many Muggle-Borns often betrayed other wizards because their parents told them to, because they thought if they did then 'the Devil' would be exorcised from them. The world was very different back then. The Basilisk was never intended to kill an innocent student."
By now Harry, Ron and Hermione were staring open-mouthed at Merlin, hardly believing what they were hearing. Harry felt his head spinning.
"So," he said, trying to puzzle it all out. "Slytherin was a good guy?"
Merlin laughed. "Depends on what you mean by that. He certainly wasn't an entirely pleasant man, and he did have some extreme views. But he wasn't the ruthless killer history paints him as. Of course, I didn't know all of this at the time. Helena told me afterwards the exact circumstances of him leaving the school. The Founders tried to hush it all up, and that's why the legends got so distorted."
There was a momentary silence. "I still find it strange," said Hermione, shaking her head. "You actually knew the Founders."
"Yeah, what was Gryffindor like?" Ron asked, looking interested.
"He was about as arrogant as Arthur and just as stupid," said Merlin, nonchalantly turning a page. "But for all that, he was just as brave and courageous, and determined to do the right thing."
"What about Hufflepuff?"
Merlin smiled. "One of the sweetest and kindest women I've ever known. Ferocious though, you wouldn't want to cross her on a dark night."
"And Ravenclaw?"
At this, Merlin blushed furiously. "Uh, yeah, she was nice too."
He buried his nose in Slytherin's book even as Harry and Ron's faces split into broad grins. Hermione wasn't prepared to tease him though.
"Is there anything about the Cup in that book?" she asked, looking at one of the pages, which was covered in a pattern of words and letters Harry couldn't even recognise as being part of the normal alphabet.
"Probably not," said Merlin, sighing and closing the book. "I'll examine them all closely later."
Merlin started gazing into the fire, his eyes looking as though they were far away, a small frown on his brow. He seemed to be talking to himself, thinking furiously, his lips moving silently.
"Um, Martin?" Harry asked conscious of the several other people in the room.
Merlin jumped, and looked around. "Sorry, just thinking."
"What about?" Hermione asked.
He frowned again. "Something Kingsley said. He reminded me of when Morgana first had the Cup."
"What, is there something you remember?" asked Harry, leaning in excitedly. "A way to find it?"
But Merlin shook his head. "No … it's just …" He sighed, and glanced around quickly. "When Morgana and her sister Morgause first had the Cup," he began explaining. "They made King Cenred's army immortal and used it to take Camelot from King Uther. Myself, Arthur, Gwen and a few Knights attempted to take it back. That's when the Round Table idea first started."
At this Hermione's eyes lit up and she looked as though she wanted to ask a question but Ron silenced her with a look. Harry was glad; Merlin looked like he had just stumbled upon a solution. He continued:
"Arthur wanted us to take out the Warning Bell, so he and the others could get in and deal with Morgana," he said. "But we didn't. The other Knight knew about my magic, and we thought we'd have a better chance of getting to the Cup and emptying it, thus destroying the army."
"Two of you against an entire immortal army?" Ron asked, eyes wide.
Merlin nodded. "I had my magic, and Lancelot was an excellent fighter. We had to try."
"Lancelot?" Hermione squeaked, looking surprised. "But wasn't he the Knight who-"
"No," Merlin said, so vehemently it made Hermione flinch. "Lancelot never did anything to betray Arthur or Camelot. It was a foul plot of Morgana's that led to that disgusting story. Lancelot would never have done anything like that. Regardless of how he felt."
Hermione looked cowed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. Ron was glaring at Merlin.
Merlin sighed and seemed to regret his outburst. "Me too. It's just always made me so angry that Lancelot, who was one of the greatest men I've ever known, has gotten such a reputation. He doesn't deserve it." He smiled weakly. "I can see that after all this is over and done with we'll all have to have a discussion about the true story of Camelot, and sort out the legends from fact."
Hermione nodded. "I'd like that. I want to know the truth. And to hear it from Merlin himself … well, I'd like it very much."
Merlin smiled. "Anyway," he said, continuing. "We managed to fight our way through the army and empty the Cup."
"You've already told us this," said Harry, getting impatient. "What's the point?"
"Patience, Harry," said Merlin. "If you want to learn Old Magic that's the first thing you'll have to learn. Goodness knows, it took me forever. I was getting to the point."
He took in a deep breath. "No mortal weapon would kill one of Morgana's men. So we used an alternate weapon. A blade forged in the breath of a dragon. The only thing able to kill something that is already dead."
Harry frowned. "I don't understand. A sword helped you?"
Merlin nodded. "It's the only thing that will work."
"So, if we find a sword forged in the breath of a dragon, we could use it against Voldemort?" Ron asked, looking slightly sceptical.
Merlin bit his lip. "Well, it isn't exactly fool-proof, I mean, how would we even get close enough to use it? But, if we don't find the Cup in time, it's the only weapon we could use to kill Voldemort. He'd be guarding the Cup- we wouldn't be able to get to it. This would be our back-up if you like."
Harry thought hard. It would be a useful thing to have; even if Voldemort and Morgana made themselves immortal they'd have a way of killing them, two ways in fact. It was certainly a better position to be in at the moment, when the Cup was still at large, to have a weapon that could help them.
"Good," said Harry. "Then we need to get one of these things. Can Kilgharrah or Aithusa help us?"
Merlin pulled a face. "No, I've already asked. Forging one of these things is apparently a pretty big deal and not something they can do easily. Kilgharrah forged one for me years ago because it was the 'right time', but he says he can't do it now, because 'the Old Religion will not permit him to.'" He scowled. "Bloody useless over-grown lizard. We'll have to use the original one that I used."
Ron groaned. "So now we've got another ancient artefact to find? Why can't we just use Gryffindor's sword? If it can destroy Horcruxes why couldn't it destroy some immortal person?"
"Because," said Merlin annoyed. "The original sword is linked specifically with the power of life and death, something intrinsic to the Old Religion. It's the only way."
Ron didn't look happy, but then suddenly perked up. "Maybe it is Gryffindor's sword. It's old isn't it? Maybe it's the same one you used?"
Merlin laughed. "No, I'm certain it's not. For one thing, it isn't old enough. Another, I remember its history exactly, and the goblin that forged it. It had been a present for Godric on his coming-of-age. The sword I used wasn't goblin-made. It was made by Tom the blacksmith, Gwen's father."
"We're going to use a sword forged by a Muggle named Tom on You-Know-Who?" Ron asked. "Oh, the irony."
Merlin ignored him.
Harry was frustrated. "I can't believe this," he said sighing. "We've got a way of killing Voldemort, and it's been lost for centuries as well! We're in no better a position than we were this morning!"
But Merlin was smiling. "Did I say it had been lost for centuries?"
They all froze and looked at him, hardly daring to believe it. "You mean, you know where it is?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Merlin nodded.
Harry began to get excited. "Well, where is it?"
"Avalon," said Merlin.
Harry was blank, and Ron looked confused, but Hermione raised an eyebrow sceptically. "The land of the dead? That's helpful."
Ron spluttered. "The land of the dead? What's it doing there? Does it even exist?"
"Yes," Merlin said simply.
"How do you know?" Ron demanded.
"Because I'm the one that took it there," Merlin stated.
There was silence once more as they all looked at him in shock. "What do you mean?" Harry asked, beyond confused now. "I thought you never actually died, that you just never aged?"
"I never died," said Merlin. "But I do have a contact in Avalon."
"A contact?" Ron repeated faintly. "And how exactly did that come about?"
Merlin didn't answer for the longest time, just looked into the fire. "The guardian to Avalon," he began. "Is the Lady of the Lake, the departed soul of a young woman who died in tragic circumstances. I knew her when she was alive. She helped me couple of times. The sword passed between us. I gave it to her."
Harry felt a chill run through him with all this talk of the dead and departed souls. It was all getting a little too supernatural for his liking.
"Why did you give the sword to her?" Ron asked. "What use was it there?"
Merlin again took his time about answering. "Because, it belonged with its owner."
"Who was that? The woman?" Harry asked.
"No," mumbled Merlin. "Arthur."
"You mean to tell me," said Hermione slowly, her eyes growing wider. "That this sword, the one you want us to use is … Excalibur?"
Merlin just nodded.
Harry felt a little light-headed. Excalibur? The past few days were just becoming more and more like one of the fantasy books he'd read as a child.
Harry blinked rapidly. "Alright, I'm a little confused. I thought Excalibur came from a stone, not made by a blacksmith, forged in the breath of a dragon, and wielded by Merlin to destroy an immortal army."
Merlin smiled. "Perhaps I'd better explain its history."
And for a few minutes he talked about the sword, about Wraiths, about Uther, throwing the sword in a lake, an arm coming from the lake to give it back, Merlin placing it in a stone, Arthur pulling it out and a bunch of other stuff that made Harry's head spin as all his childhood imaginings went wild.
"You put it in the stone?" Hermione asked incredulous.
"Yes," said Merlin. "I thought it was a safe place for it. And it was a way of proving to Arthur that he truly was the rightful king. But he was seriously annoyed when he found out the truth."
"What happened to it after that?" Harry asked. "Why did you take it back to Avalon?"
"When Arthur died, he was laid to rest on the Lake of Avalon," Merlin said, his tone oddly hushed. "Usually, for a warrior dying in battle, their weapons are laid out with him. But … for some reason, I didn't do that. Something told me not to. So instead of laying it with Arthur, I gave it personally to Fr- the Lady of the Lake. I had a sort of feeling that it would be needed again in the future. But I never thought about it till now. If this isn't what it's intended for, then I have no idea what is."
Hermione looked as though she understood which was more than Harry could say.
"So, you think you can get it back?" she asked. "Is the lake still there?"
Merlin nodded. "I haven't been there in a few centuries, and the landscape's changed a lot, but I could find it again."
"And would this Lady of the Lake give it to you?" Harry asked, noting that for some reason Merlin looked strange at the mention of her.
"I think so," Merlin said softly. "She understood at the time that I'd return for it."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ron asked. "Let's go and get it!"
Merlin shook his head. "It's not as simple as that. Avalon, and the Lady will be harder to access now. The Old Religion has declined, and Avalon has retreated further into the spirit world. By my reckoning there's only one time of the year when I think I'd be able to access it, and speak to the Lady in person. The time when the Veil between the world is at its thinnest- Samhain."
Ron looked confused, but Hermione nodded knowledgeably. "Hallowe'en."
Merlin nodded, but Harry wasn't happy.
"But that's weeks away!" he said frustrated. "What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"
Merlin smiled. "I believe you have some lessons to attend to Harry."
Harry scowled. "I couldn't care less about Potions or Transfiguration or-"
"That wasn't what I was referring to," said Merlin, his smile widening.
Harry broke off his rambling, and blinked. "You mean …"
Merlin nodded. "We've wasted too much time already. I think it's about time I taught you everything I know."
Ron looked awed, Hermione jealous, but Harry grinned.
Finally.
"Well class … um, well, I suppose we'd- we'd, um, best be getting on with … with … um, what we were doing on Friday! Yes, that's it. Um, the- the … Protean Charm! Get on with that will you? Um, on you go! Of course Mr … Mr Emrys … if you find it too easy … well … um … perhaps help the others? Or do it if you want! It's perfectly alright either way! Well, um … well on we go! The Protean Charm! Have fun!"
Professor Flitwick gave another loud squeak and jumped out from behind his desk, leaving a rather bewildered class. Merlin was barely suppressing a grin. From the moment he'd walked into his Charms lesson that morning Flitwick had been like an overexcited but nervous schoolboy. He couldn't take his eyes off Merlin. McGonagall had obviously told him who he was.
Beside him, Harry and Ron were shaking with silent laughter, while Hermione looked disapproving.
"He'll give you away!" she hissed, frowning.
"Relax, Hermione," said Ron. "Old Flitwick's always been a bit loopy."
She wasn't impressed. "We have to be careful. Voldemort knows who he is, but can't let anyone else know! Not yet, not until Kingsley decides about what to do." She glanced around quickly, to check the class were absorbed in their lesson (Professor Flitwick was staring in their direction, peeking out from behind a pile of books). "Speaking of which, have you given any thought about tonight … Martin?"
Merlin nodded, and tried to get rid of the clenching feeling in his gut. "I think you're right, the DA should know the truth. They deserve to know exactly what they're fighting against."
Hermione nodded. "Good. I've already sent a general message around. Everyone will be there tonight, instead of being split over two sessions. Some of them are annoyed about missing Quidditch practise but, well, I'm sure they'll forgive you when you … you know."
"Tell them I'm the legendary Merlin?" Merlin asked with a heavy heart. "Yeah I expect so. Not looking forward to it though."
His heart was beating faster than normal at the thought of it, but not nearly to the extreme as it had with the others. He was slightly calmer this time round, now he wasn't alone.
"Any thoughts about keeping them quiet?" Ron asked, flourishing his wand uselessly to appear as if he was working- Flitwick was still watching them. "I reckon most of them would keep take the secret to their grave, but this is pretty big. They might get a bit over-excited."
"Yeah," said Merlin. "I know one. It's an old spell. Arthur used it occasionally when conducting affairs in the kingdom. That way, no one could torture secrets out of Knights."
Hermione looked sick. "Was there a lot of torture in your day?"
Merlin smiled grimly. "Put it this way. The Cruciatus Curse hadn't been invented, but thumbscrews were still easily available."
Harry winced. "But this spell will definitely work?"
Merlin nodded. "They physically won't be able to tell the secret. It won't harm them in any way."
"Good," Hermione said, suddenly business-like. "We have to get on. I don't think we'll get much teaching done tonight. It'll be all we can do to convince them you are who you say you are."
Merlin agreed. It was going to be unpleasant.
"Now class!" Flitwick called from the front, his head barely poking above his desk, looking flushed. "I think now it's time for a demonstration of the correct way to perform the spell! Mr … Mr Emrys … I don't suppose you'd- you'd be willing to oblige?"
Merlin looked at his eager face and sighed. "Of course, professor."
He then performed a perfect Protean Charm, and Flitwick squeaked in excitement, his eyes aglow with admiration, tears of joy clustered in the corners of his wrinkled face.
"Oh well done, well done!" he cried, clapping his hands together. "Excellent! Perfect! Magnificent! Wonderful! Amazing!"
He leapt off his pile of books and raced towards Merlin, a broad grin on his face and seized both of his hands and wrung them with his own enthusiastically.
"Well done! I never thought I'd get a chance to see that! I'm so happy!" he continued to squeak, looking joyful.
Merlin struggled to keep a straight face. "Thank you."
He looked over Flitwick's excited face and saw Dean and Seamus, and the rest of the class staring open-mouthed, looks of absolute confusion on their faces. Neville had stuffed his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from laughing, and Dean Thomas looked like he'd been hit over the head with a saucepan. 'What's going on?' his eyes seemed to say.
Merlin grinned nervously at them. You'll soon find out.
"Well, um, hi," said Harry, that evening. It wasn't until he was up here he realised just how large the DA had grown this year. Already he was questioning the wisdom of telling so many Martin's true identity. But he couldn't afford to back down now. They had to be told.
He glanced over at Merlin, who looked even paler than usual. His jaw was clenched, and Harry felt a fluttering of pity. But he really didn't need to worry. There were six people already in this room who would support him no matter what.
He took a deep breath. "I'm glad so many of you turned up tonight, especially those of you who usually go to the Thursday meeting. But I've a very important announcement to make tonight that couldn't wait."
"It'd better be bloody important," grumbled Zacharias Smith. "I'm missing Quidditch practise for this."
"Yeah, Smith," smirked Ron. "Your team needs as much practise as it can get."
Smith opened his mouth angrily to argue, but he was cut across by everyone else in the room.
"Is it about what happened in Hogsmeade?"
"Do you know who the woman is?"
"Is it true that it's Bellatrix Lestrange in a new body?"
"How powerful is she?"
"Did Martin really fight her?"
A flow of questions sprang up at him and Harry had to make a loud noise with his wand to get them to desist. Dozens of expectantly curious eyes gazed up at him, waiting for the announcement, but Harry felt himself freeze. How on earth was he supposed to tell them this? How could he make them understand? Suddenly he had a newfound appreciation for how Merlin felt before he'd told them.
Luckily, Hermione saved the day.
"We have something both very serious and very important to tell you all," she said calmly. "It will be pretty overwhelming, and it may frighten you. But we decided that we can't not tell you, not when you're all prepared to fight to protect this school and your families. You deserve to know what you're up against."
"If it's so important, why hasn't the Minister for Magic said anything?" Ernie asked, a frown on his face. "Is he trying to do what Fudge did and keep the truth from us? I thought you lot were pretty tight with him?"
"We are," said Ron. "And he's got a really good reason for not saying anything so far. You'll understand when you know what it is."
"So he's keeping things from us?" Ernie asked again, looking outraged.
Hermione tried to assuage him. "He's not decided yet. It's a … fairly recent development. We haven't asked him about revealing this to you, but I'm sure he'd be okay with it. He's always supported the DA. Kingsley- I mean, Minister Shacklebolt's doing what he thinks is best."
Ernie still looked ready to protest, but Ginny cut across him.
"Look," she said fiercely. "You have no idea what this about. So trust us. You'll understand."
Ernie still looked uncertain, but nodded. Ginny beckoned to Harry, who was immensely grateful. He had been having doubts himself.
"Right," said Harry. "This is extremely delicate. We're going to have to … um, swear you to secrecy."
"What?" Dean asked, "Don't you trust us?"
"It isn't that," said Harry. "But we really can't let any of this get out. We don't think any of you would betray us or anything, but this … information you're getting might be a bit much."
"Blimey," said Terry Boot. "What is this information?"
Harry looked over at Merlin again, who was standing there rigid. "Martin's got a spell to perform to make sure you don't say anything."
"Spell?" Smith asked, leaping to his feet. "What kind of spell? If it's any of that freaky Druid stuff I'm not interested!"
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "If you want to know the secret you'll have to be. And besides, technically I'm not a Druid."
Smith didn't back down. "A descendant of one then."
Merlin smiled. "Nope, not one of those either."
Smith frowned. "But how can you use that Old Magic then?"
Merlin looked at Harry. "If you consent be party to this spell, you'll find out."
Smith looked as though he wanted to argue, but, miraculously, he didn't.
Merlin took in a deep breath as though preparing himself.
"Alright," he said taking command. He withdrew a small bowl from his robes. He looked at it doubtfully for a moment. "What I'm going to ask you to do right now, is a bit macabre. You might find it a bit disturbing and unsettling."
"What, is it some sort of blood ritual?" joked Seamus, but his grin faded as he looked at Merlin's face. "You're kidding?" he gasped. "That's – that's-"
"I know," agreed Merlin. "And that's why you have to realise just how important this is. If none of you are prepared to do this, I suggest you leave now."
No one left, though many people looked slightly sick. Merlin didn't waste any time.
"I won't lie to you," he said evenly. "This is unpleasant, but not as bad as I'm sure you're all thinking. I need one drop of blood from each of you. Just one. Then I'll cast a spell which will ensure you cannot speak of this to anyone."
"And what will happen to us if we do?" asked Anthony Goldstein nervously. "I don't want to end up like Marietta Edgecombe."
"Well, don't tell anyone then," said Ron flatly.
"Nothing will happen to you," said Merlin. "Because it will be physically impossible to do so."
People were exchanging nervous glances now, but Merlin didn't seem to take any notice.
He held out the bowl, and there was not a flicker of trepidation on his face, though Harry could tell he must be full of it. "So," Merlin said. "Who'll go first?"
There was some uneasy muttering. No one seemed to want to step forward, and Harry could not blame them. It seemed sickening to him. Hadn't they just been discussing the evil blood magic associated with the Cup of Life?
"Are you sure this isn't some sort of Dark Magic?" Parvati Patil asked, voicing Harry's thoughts. "Don't they use blood a lot?"
Merlin frowned. "Yes, but Old Magic, good and bad, used it too. Please, you have to trust me. It isn't some sort of sick control thing. In fact, I technically don't even need blood. All I need is some form of … what do the Muggles call it … DNA. But blood usually works best. Trust me."
There was some more scattered muttering. Then:
"I'll do it," said Susan Bones, stepping forward, her face free of fear.
Merlin grinned. "Trust a Hufflepuff …"
He withdrew a small pin from his pocket, and pressed its point to Susan's proffered finger. She flinched a little as a small bead of blood appeared there. Merlin held her hand over the bowl until it dropped inside. Then he smiled, his eyes glowed golden, and Susan's finger was healed.
"That's it?" she asked, examining her finger. Merlin just nodded.
"Whoa!" said Dean. "How did you do that glowy thing with your eyes?"
Merlin smiled at him. "You'll find out soon."
Dean looked at him for a moment, shrugged and stepped forward.
"If Harry trusts you, so do I," he said, as Merlin performed the same process.
Gradually, more and more people stepped forward, had their finger pricked, their blood collected, and their finger healed, Smith most grudgingly. Soon the small bowl was filled with blood, and Harry felt his stomach recoil at the sight of it. He hoped Merlin knew what he was doing.
He laughed quietly to himself. He never thought he'd ever think that.
When the last of the blood had been collected, Merlin held the bowl in front of his body and closed his eyes. Then he began speaking in a harsh language:
"Bindan se feorh of eal be þās læfel. Lǣtan nān mǣnan hwā sculan bēon cyðan."
Many in the room jumped as Merlin's eyes, which opened upon his recitation of the last word, opened and burned like a fierce fire. The bowl glowed with a golden hue, and before Harry's eyes, the blood collected inside of it seemed to evaporate, absorbed into the bowl itself. Finally, the bowl was empty. Everyone in the room then shuddered.
"Oooh!" squealed Lavender Brown. "That felt strange."
"Yeah, sorry," said Merlin, stowing the bowl away inside his robes again. "But that's it, I swear."
Dean shuddered once more. "Now, what is so important we had to do that?"
Here, Merlin's courage seemed to falter for a moment. He seemed to take a moment to collect himself.
"You are about to find out something that will change everything," he said, his face blank. "There is a new enemy that must be fought. An enemy like no one has seen before."
"That new woman?" Hannah asked, looking nervous. "I heard she's a reincarnation of Lestrange."
Merlin shook his head. "No, she's far worse."
Many people looked terrified at the very thought.
"What do you mean?" Terry asked, looking pale. "Who is she?"
Merlin took a deep breath, glanced at the others for a moment, and then answered.
"Her name," he said slowly, "is Morgana Pendragon."
No one spoke or even breathed for a moment.
"That's not funny," said Ernie, his eyes wide. He was a Pure-Blood, Harry remembered. He would have grown up with stories about Morgana. "Don't joke about her. We're already facing one evil, don't try and resurrect another."
A muscle twitched in Merlin's neck. "I'm not joking," he said. "I would never joke about this. She is who I say she is. Morgana, sister of Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, mortal enemy of Merlin, the most dangerously powerful sorceress ever to live."
"But how is that possible?" Michael Corner gasped. "She died centuries ago!"
Merlin shook his head. "She didn't," he said, and for the first time since Harry had heard Merlin talk about Morgana, he didn't sound sad, just resigned. "Merlin trapped her in the Crystal Cave, a place that existed outside of time, and she's been communicating with Voldemort. She taught him a weaker version of the magic of the Old Religion, and he freed her from her prison. And now they're searching for a relic from Camelot's time- the Cup of Life, an artefact that gives immortality. We have to defeat both of them, get to the Cup first and prevent this from happening."
Well, he was blunt, thought Harry, watching as the entire room just gaped at Merlin. He supposed there'd be no point in trying to do it gently.
Seamus was blinking rapidly, the colour draining from his face. "But it's impossible!"
"Yeah!"
"This is ridiculous!"
"It is not!" Merlin said, and by some strange magic, everyone fell silent and the room seemed to grow darker. "I assure you, Morgana is alive."
"How do you know all this?" Smith asked, sneering, trying to conceal his own alarm. "Why do you know that she didn't die all those years ago? How do you know this happened?"
Merlin hesitated only for the briefest moment.
"Because I was there," he said, and the room erupted.
"What! You expected us to believe you're thousands of years old?"
"That's impossible!"
"I was," Merlin said in the same commanding tone. "I am a follower of the Old Religion, and a practitioner of its magic. I endured all these centuries for this very purpose. Check the school records; there are at least a dozen different Emrys' there, all of them me. I know this is hard to believe, but it is true. I can use the Old Magic; some of you have seen it already."
"Yeah," said Dean, frowning in remembrance. He stepped closer to Merlin and looked at him intensely. "No offence, mate, but I'm not actually finding it hard to believe. You've always … I dunno, seemed old¸ like you're wise or something. There's always been something about you that I couldn't quite put my finger on."
Merlin laughed. "I've been told that before," he said, almost to himself.
"Okay," said Terry. "Say we believe you, and you're really a centuries old sorcerer of the Old Religion; why have you never come forward before?"
"Because it wasn't the right time," said Merlin. "I've been waiting all these years. I knew the time would come when the Old Religion would return to the land. And I believe that time is now, and that Harry is the one who can do it."
Everyone turned to look at Harry, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. Prophecy again … he didn't want involved in it in any way whatsoever.
"And how do you know that?" asked Smith. "Did 'Merlin' tell you? I suppose the two of you were great pals?"
Merlin laughed. "I wouldn't say we were pals exactly."
"You knew him?" Hannah Abbot squealed, her eyes as round as saucers.
Merlin closed his eyes for a second. "Not exactly no." He took in another deep breath and opened his eyes. "I am Merlin."
The way he said it, the power, magical or otherwise that he put into those three words left no one in the room in doubt of their truth. No one breathed.
Then, Smith laughed.
Merlin raised his eyebrows; that had obviously not been what he expected.
Smith was almost in hysterics. "Yeah," he said, gasping for air. "You almost fooled me! The whole blood ritual and the secrecy and all! Very funny!"
"And why is that?" Merlin asked, a wry smile on his face.
Smith stopped his laughing and looked at Merlin smugly. "As if you could be Merlin!" he said, looking him up and down. "Yeah, you've got the whole mysterious act down, but please, don't be ridiculous. Why would Merlin of all people want to be stuck inside a school?"
"Maybe because he's defending the innocent and the weak?" Neville retorted fiercely, his hand on his wand.
Smith sneered. "You believe him, Longbottom? You're even more foolish than I thought!"
Merlin stepped closer to Smith, and everyone in the room held their breath.
"Don't you dare say that to him," he said quietly, but Harry could hear the danger behind the words. "I am telling you the truth."
Smith raised an eyebrow. "Alright then … Merlin," he said. "Where's your beard?"
Merlin grinned. "I've been waiting for you to ask me that."
Then with a fierce glow of his eyes, Merlin changed. His back hunched over, his skin became wrinkled, his hair lengthened and became snowy white, a magnificent beard rivalling even Dumbledore's sprouted from his chin, and his wand grew into an elaborate staff which glowed with a shining gem at its top. Despite his diminished stature, he seemed to be larger than life, the room darkened and closed in on them all, and the power and magic seemed to emanate from him, so powerful that Harry felt the magic inside of him rise and boil within his veins. He took a step back, once again, awed by what he saw. Here he was, this truly was Merlin.
The room shrieked as one, and Smith fell to his knees in shock.
"But-but-" he spluttered, looking up in genuine terror at the man in front of him. "You're really him aren't you?" he gasped, shaking.
"Believe me now?" Merlin croaked, his new moustache twitching in amusement.
Smith looked up at him, blinked a few times, and keeled over, and lay sprawled on the floor.
Merlin sighed. "Great, another fainter."
He chuckled. His eyes flashed again, and a few moments later, he was himself again, rubbing his neck and his arms.
"I hate doing that," he admitted, wincing. "I might be getting on for my fourteenth century but at least I don't look it. Even an eighty year old body isn't much fun."
He turned to face the DA, and smiled weakly.
"Sorry about that," he said, looking wary.
No one said anything. What could they say? Now Harry had gotten over the shock of seeing Merlin transform like that, he was quite enjoying this. The looks on people's faces were priceless.
Merlin started to look uncomfortable and his eyes flicked here and there, looking nervous. As if on cue, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Ginny walked over to him and stood by his side.
"He's telling the truth," said Ginny. "We saw him fight Morgana in Hogsmeade, we heard what she said to him. Merlin here is our only hope to defeat Morgana, and I trust him. He can help us."
"But you have to trust us," said Hermione. "That's how we'll win this fight. Combining Old magic and New, working together. He is who he says he is. And with Merlin on our side, how can we lose? He's the same man you all knew just a few minutes ago, and he'll fight to the death to protect us all. We can win this."
"Yeah," said Neville, but then seemed to run out of steam, or perhaps he just couldn't find anything to add. But he stared around at everyone defiantly anyway.
"He's our friend," said Luna dreamily, and she smiled at Merlin, who smiled back.
"They're right," said Harry, ridiculously proud of his friends. "Merlin, Martin, whatever you want to call him, he's our friend, and he's with us in this fight. This will be a shock for you all, but you have to trust us."
Still, no one in the room could even move. All of them were standing stock-still, staring at Merlin, their eyes popping and their mouths hanging open. Harry waited, a tension building in his body, probably nothing compared to what Merlin was feeling, but still nerve-wracking. Had he made a mistake in doing this?
Then, almost timidly, Ernie took a step forward, his eyes still fixed on Merlin. He walked towards him, almost dragging his feet, like walking in a dream. He stopped about a foot in front of Merlin, and seemed to examine his face with his eyes, searching for the truth. He seemed to find it.
He nodded, his pudgy face still slack in awe. Then, he smiled, and held out his hand. Merlin took it.
"Glad to finally meet the real you," Ernie said, sincerely. "You are most welcome to Dumbledore's Army. I'd be honoured to fight alongside you."
Merlin looked down at their joined hands and looked oddly emotional. He looked back up at Ernie.
"Thank you," he said, and his face split into a broad grin, the most sincere one Harry had seen yet.
Things were finally settling into place.
Merlin smiled to himself as he lay in bed later that night. The Order knew, the DA knew, Harry, Ron and Hermione knew … the burdens he'd been carrying around all these years were finally beginning to lessen.
The DA, after the initial shock had been pretty … well, accepting. They'd spent hours going over Merlin's past, Morgana's plans and the Cup of Life. All of them had agreed to keep an eye-out for any possible locations for the Cup of Life. They'd plagued him for demonstrations of Old Magic, stories about Camelot, more questions like 'Are you really him?' but on the whole, Merlin had enjoyed it. He felt at ease in a way he never thought he would again.
After the meeting, after they had had to literally eject people from the room, such was their enthusiasm at speaking to the Merlin, he and Harry had had their own little meeting.
Merlin had decided he had better get on with teaching Harry Old Magic as it became more and more apparent Voldemort was gaining more and more proficiency in it. They'd sat there in the Room long after everyone had left going over the techniques Merlin had taught him to control the flow of the magic until Merlin was entirely satisfied that Harry had complete control over it. He learned fast, and Merlin had gotten Harry to use his wand and use the incantation 'Forbearnan' to light ten candles, one after the other, keep them burning for three minutes, and then extinguish them in the same order as he'd lit them. It was a basic exercise in control, one which Merlin had used when teaching the Founders, and Harry had excelled after his initial attempts in which he'd set fire to Merlin's robes. At least he hadn't blown up a wand and reduced a table to matchsticks like Godric had on his first attempt.
Merlin was thrilled with Harry's progress. He'd taught students in Camelot who after many weeks of training still found controlling several flames at once almost impossible. But they'd never had the same motivation for success that Harry did.
Merlin looked over at the bed where Harry had collapsed after their lesson. He was exhausted, and rightly so. Old Magic was draining on someone not accustomed to using it, even more so for someone who'd used wand magic all their life; the Founders had suffered in the same way, and according to their books, this would soon subside.
But for the moment, Harry was dead to the world. Merlin smiled. He remembered all too well the way magic could exhaust someone. His students had experienced it, and he had too, when he was much, much younger, his work for Arthur and studies together making him close to collapse at the end of every day.
He sighed, and looked over at the other beds. He noticed that Dean and Seamus had finally gone to sleep. They'd sat up for hours, peeking out at him from between their curtains, still unable to believe that they were sharing a dormitory with Merlin.
Merlin tried not to let it bother him. They'd get over it eventually. He just had to be patient.
He lay himself down, and tried to let sleep come to him, but found that too many thoughts were racing around in his head to let himself drift off. Despite his general good mood, a sinking feeling existed deep in his gut. He couldn't explain why, but he felt on edge. Like something dangerous was coming.
Merlin shook this off. He snuggled deep under his covers. He closed his eyes and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
He was in Camelot, standing in the old courtyard. It was bustling with life and laughter. Knights moved here and there, swiping at each other playfully, mounting their horses, racing each other, shooting teasing remarks at each other.
Faces leaped out at him, faces he hadn't seen in thirteen hundred years but recognised like it was only yesterday. They smiled at him, laughed, clapped him on the back, welcomed him home.
Merlin looked down at himself, and saw he was wearing his old servant clothes, ragged, itchy, but familiar. He felt young, invigorated.
He looked up, and saw a figure coming down the steps of the palace towards him. A very familiar figure.
The sun shone off his golden hair, and illuminated his youthful face, which seemed to be laughing in some profound joy. The crimson of his cloak jumped out at him, the dragon carefully embroidered upon it almost seem to be alive, protecting its wearer.
Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"We thought you'd never get here, Merlin!" he laughed. "What took you so long you idiot?"
Merlin laughed too. "I don't know, Sire. But I'm glad to be back."
Arthur grinned again, but then stopped in his tracks and looked down at his chest. There was a great rend in the chainmail, and underneath it, the flesh oozed with scarlet blood.
Arthur looked back up at Merlin who was frozen in horror.
"Why did you do this to me, Merlin?" he asked, clutching at his chest. "I thought we were friends! You betrayed me!"
"No," said Merlin, backing off, fear clutching at his heart. "It wasn't my fault …"
Arthur fell to the ground, and a scarlet river began flowing over the flagstones of the courtyard.
"Merlin! Help me!" Arthur cried in agony, and suddenly, the courtyard was gone, and they were on a battlefield, surrounded by the dead and the dying. Gone were Arthur's youthful features, he was older now, his features wise with the experience of several decades. Beside him lay Excalibur, red with the blood of Mordred, who lay a few feet away, already having succumbed to his wounds.
"Please!" Arthur begged. "Don't let me die here! You were supposed to help me! You were supposed to be here! Why did you let me ride to Camlan on my own? You should have foreseen this!"
Merlin backed away, the bile rising in his throat. "It wasn't my fault … it wasn't my fault …"
Then, Arthur and the field at Camlan disappeared, and Merlin found himself in a cave, where crystals seemed to grow out of the very walls. The Crystal Cave.
There was a new figure approaching him.
Morgana smiled as she looked over him.
"Still feeling the guilt, Merlin?" she asked, sneering. "And so you should; it is your fault Arthur is dead."
"No, Morgana," Merlin said back, his voice fierce. "You and you alone are to blame. I won't let you make me feel this way. I am stronger than you!"
"That's what you think," Morgana smirked. "But I have seen much during the imprisonment you were so gracious to bless me with. I am more powerful than even you, Emrys. The Dark Lord and I shall rule over all."
"Bit of a change, Morgana," Merlin observed. "Sharing credit? That's not like you. Have you learnt loyalty after all?"
Morgana laughed, and the sound echoed around the cave. "Only so long as it suits me, dear Merlin, you know me too well to doubt that."
"I won't let you succeed," Merlin vowed. "I will accomplish what I failed to do thirteen hundred years ago."
Morgana smiled. "And once again, you shall fail. I will kill you, Merlin. But before I do, I will make you watch as the Potter boy is destroyed. Another one of your charges will writhe and die in agony because of your failures. And I shall cherish the look of pain in your eyes as you realise once again that you are the one who is responsible. And then, I shall kill you, Merlin."
Merlin shook his head. "I will die before I let you lay a finger on Harry."
For some reason, this made Morgana look joyfully happy. "Who said I'd even need to touch him?" she laughed.
She looked to her left, and Merlin followed her gaze. Standing there in the cave, looking terrified, was Harry.
"NO!" Merlin yelled, but he was too late.
"Angrislic bānwærc," Morgana screeched.
Harry fell to the ground and began writhing around in agony, screaming at the top of his lungs. His limbs flailed here and there as his bones turned to fire.
"No!" Merlin yelled again, a cry of agony wrenched from his own throat. He turned to Morgana and tried to cast a spell that would strike her down and kill her, but no magic would come to him.
Morgana laughed. "I'm not really here, Merlin. You cannot kill your own mind's eye."
Harry continued to scream.
"NO!" Merlin screamed, jerking straight upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, his breath coming in great heaving gasps. He was shaking all over.
At the same moment, Harry jerked awake in his own bed, yelling like a madman, in a similar state to Merlin.
"Blimey!" Ron screamed, leaping out of bed, dishevelled. "Harry? Merlin? You all right?"
Dean, Seamus and Neville leapt out of their own beds and gathered around, looking afraid.
"You alright Marti- Merlin?" Dean asked, a worried frown on his face.
Merlin kept breathing heavily, his entire body covered in a sweat. He felt sick.
He looked over at Harry, who was rubbing his arms and legs as though plagued by the memory of a ghostly pain. He met Merlin's eyes.
And in that look, they knew.
That had been no ordinary dream.
Morgana was trying to manipulate them. She was getting inside their very heads.
Merlin yelled in frustration, and buried his face in his hands.
He felt anger surging through every inch of him.
He didn't care what it took, or how long it would take.
He would be the one to kill Morgana.
A/N: Please leave a review!
Next update will be on Saturday ... unless the alien invasion happens before then ;)