Hey all, I'm back with a new chapter. I hope you're not missing Arthur and the knights too much because this is yet another Merlin-Harry-Dumbledore chapter. I've not had any complaints, but I assure you they will be back soon.

Also I don't know how education works in other countries, so when I mention numeracy and literacy that's what we call maths and english in england when you're still in primary school (which is age 4-11 if anyone didn't know that). It's a pretty small thing that I imagine most people will know but I thought I'd mention it anyway.

Anyway, please enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to vote in the poll on my account page because very few people acutally have.

Chapter 14 – Telling Tales

Albus wasn't quite sure what to expect from his conversation with the boys this morning.

He had noticed that neither of them had made an appearance at yesterday night's evening meal, but his concern had been assuaged after a quick check-in with the house elves, where they had informed him that the boys had eaten down there. They had been proud to report that the children had had a wonderful time, talking and enjoying the food for hours. Albus had been glad to hear it.

He now hoped that Harry's less-than-sunny disposition yesterday was due to his day being so horrid, especially since it was Christmas day. Albus wasn't sure what he'd do if young Harry's apparent hostility towards him prevailed despite his improved circumstances. He could only hope that being rescued from such a situation, and being able to spend some quality time with such a close friend, would brighten his perspective on the situation. James and Lily had always been so kind and trusting, he firmly believed that those qualities were inside Harry too. Not to mention that being so close to a Hufflepuff would only be a help, they were naturally friendly and open, and qualities like those would do Harry some good.

And so, he remained hopeful that young Harry would have a more positive attitude towards him during today's meeting. After all, Albus would be delivering him nothing but good news. The boy would have a permanent home at Hogwarts until he had officially finished his studies. He would be housed and cared for, but also given a freedom that no other nine year olds had. He would never have to see his uncle, aunt or cousin again. All of this, Albus was providing him with.

But still, Albus wasn't sure what to expect out of the boy.

He was quite sure that the Emrys child would be happy with all of the news, he too wouldn't be returning to his aunt and uncle once the year was out, though Albus didn't yet have a place for him to go to. He hoped that he wouldn't have to resort to placing the boy in an orphanage. (He had always believed that the orphanage had been the start of all of Riddle's issues. He'd hate to see it happen to another child, especially one so close to Harry Potter, and with such potential to be of use.) But, currently, Albus only had six months to find somewhere for the boy to go. He had considered extending Hogwarts' hospitality to him also, but then he would have every orphaned child staying at the school, and they would all need people to watch them, and his staff deserved a break. No, there were certain stipulations to become a ward of the school that had to be upheld, Harry would have to be the only exception. It was for the future of the British wizarding community. For the greater good.

At the sound of a tentative knock, he pushed his thoughts aside. This was not the time for doubts or negativity. The boys' trust in him was already tenuous, he couldn't afford to look unsure of his place with them. He needed to be the picture of kindness and surety.

He wandlessly opened the door, and gestured the boys forward with a wave to the seats opposite his desk.

The Emrys boy approached comfortable - well, not comfortably, that was rather an exaggeration, but less hesitantly out of the two of them. It surprised him, almost. Yesterday the boy had seemed rather a nervous wreck (not too out of character for a Hufflepuff, after all), and while Albus had expected him to seem more comfortable in the space of his office, having been there before, he was not expecting him to be so cool and collected.

The change pleased Albus greatly, though he wasn't quite sure what had warranted the change in attitude. He hoped that it was as simple as the fact that he had seen Albus rescue someone who was precious to him, and had affirmed to himself that Albus could be trusted and relied upon. There was also the less satisfactory option, that he was just putting on a brave face to comfort his younger companion.

And that brought him to the young Mister Potter. Harry had a rather tense expression on his face, it was clear that he didn't want to be there, and expected nothing good to come from the encounter. He followed Merlin cautiously, taking one of the seats, but only sitting on the very edge, looking ready to bolt at any given moment.

Albus tried not to feel too disheartened, knowing that the boy's experience with authority figures or parental figures had been nothing but disappointing so far in his living memory. Albus resigned himself to the fact that it would take time to earn his trust, luckily he had a good place to start.

"It's good to see you, my boys!" he tried, jovially. "I was alarmed when you weren't seen at last night's dinner or breakfast this morning. Luckily, the lovely Miss Tonks informed me that you were both doing well."

He had noticed young Harry stiffen at his form of address, perhaps he should tamper his familiarity for now. He had to remind himself that just because he had known of the boy his whole life, did not mean that the same could be said for him.

A small silence stretched on before Merlin quickly said, "We ate in the kitchens. That isn't a problem, is it?"

Before Albus could give his assurance that, though unorthodox, it was completely expectable, young Harry decided he was better suited to answer the question. "Kitchens are supposed to provide food. Why would it be a problem?" Though his response had been to his friend's question, Harry apparently felt the need to glare at Albus as he said it.

He was silenced with a quick look from Merlin, the kind you see parents or older siblings give younger children, reading, 'We don't talk to adults that way!'. Though looking closer, acknowledging the touch of fear in his eyes, it seemed to be more of a look that read, 'We don't talk to adults that way! You don't know how they'll react!'.

Allowing himself to let loose a disheartened sigh, he decided to get back on topic.

"Due to the . . . circumstances, your relatives have been removed as your guardians." He resolutely ignored the scoffed "Circumstances," that he heard from Harry, and the second (though he doubted it would be the last) cautioning glance that Merlin threw in Harry's direction.

"Naturally, neither of you will be returning to your relatives' care this summer, so other arran-"

"Wait? Neither of us?" Merlin may have asked the question, shock reverberating through his face, but it was Harry's reaction, a bright smile lighting up his features, that really caught Albus's attention.

"Neither of you," he confirmed, smiling at the pair of them. Harry had reached over to squeeze his friends hand, smile fit to bursting, as tears sparkled in Merlin's eyes. His face seemed to be stuck on shock, but his body seemed to relax, to release the tension that he had - most likely, subconsciously - been carrying with him for who knows how long.

Albus allowed himself to revel briefly in his triumph. It seemed he had cracked the code. Should he want to endear one of the boys towards him, he need only appear to help the other and their gratitude would win him their favour. Harry Potter was happy. Harry Potter was smiling at him. Saving him from his own ordeal hadn't been enough for Albus to win him over, but rescuing the boy he viewed as a brother had bought him Harry's esteem.

"Both of your previous guardians have released their rights to you. Currently, you are both wards of the Ministry of Magic, this happens automatically to all magical children should their parents or guardians disown them. If left to the Ministry they would likely place Mister Emrys in the most convenient orphanage they can find, and sell Mister Potter's guardianship to the highest bidder." He let his distaste for the idea show in his tone. The Ministry was rife with bribery and corruption, Albus intended to settle young Harry's guardianship himself before they even realised that they had him, just as he had done the first time. Of course, originally, Lily's blood magic made it easy to do without even having to speak to Petunia. Though, he realised now that speaking to them may have prevented all of the pain young Harry must have gone through.

"Wait, what? Why would Merlin go to an orphanage, but I would be sold off?" Harry questioned.

Ah, of course. Albus knew he had forgotten something important. How to tell a nine-year-old that he was famous?

He supposed that is must be done. "Harry, what do you know of the night your parents died?"

"My aunt and uncle said it was a car crash, that my dad was driving drunk, that the crash killed him and mum and gave me my scar." The boy lifted his messy hair to show what he was talking about, a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, as if it wasn't already a thing of legends. "But Merlin said something about a magic war . . . He said it killed his parents, and mine too." He could see the curiosity shining in the young boy's eyes. And he could see the moment that he determinedly pushed it aside. "Though I don't see what any of that would have to do with my question."

And so Albus spoke. He explained to them how blood purity worked, how it made some wizards think they were better than others and definitely better than muggles. He explained how one man, Lord Voldemort, convinced all those people who believed in blood purity that war was the way to rule over muggles and muggleborns. He explained about the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark that would appear over a place where a murder had been committed. He explained the times that people lived in fear of everything and trusted no one. He explained the war.

And then he told them the tale of James and Lily Potter. He told them that Voldemort had decided to go after these young people who had chosen to fight bravely against him. He told them that they fought valiantly to protect their young son, both giving their lives so that he might be protected. He told them how, in the end, he couldn't kill the little boy. He used a spell, a spell that had never before failed, on a seemingly defenceless fifteen-month-old baby, and yet he failed. He was defeated. Somehow Lily Potter's sacrifice had protected her son and stopped the Dark Lord.

"And so, you were hailed as a hero, my boy. They call you 'The Boy Who Lived', as the only one to ever survive the killing curse. And that is what gave you your scar."

Harry sat, unashamed of the tears running down his face.

He had been confused, at first, as to why they were being told about a war that had ended years ago. He hadn't understood it's relevance to his question. But as the story went on he got it. His parents had been heroes.

His aunt and uncle were liars. His mum and dad hadn't been a pair of drunks who hadn't given a damn about their baby. They were war heroes who had loved him enough to die for him.

It was that moment, when he had realised how much he had been loved by two people he didn't even remember, that was when he had started to cry. Merlin had instantly reached for his hand when he noticed, giving him a strained smile and a look into his teary eyes as he did.

His parents had loved him.

He had always hoped, always prayed, that his aunt and uncle were lying or were at least exaggerating when he was given curt answers in response to his questions about his parents. But this was more than he could have hoped for. He knew he was never getting his parents back, so to learn that they had died to save him was one of the greatest gifts he had ever gotten. It was second, only, to finally having his brother by his side.

Merlin squeezed his hand as the old man's tale came to a close. Telling them how it was Harry who was celebrated for the victory over this Voldemort, which was just . . .

"But what about my mum?" he asked desperately. "You said it was her protection that stopped him. So why doesn't everyone think she's the hero?"

"Lily Potter was already dead when Lord Voldemort fell," he told them with a heavy voice. " And despite how little control you had over his death, you did cause it."

His insides turned to ice, realisation striking him. "So I'm a murderer?" he asked, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

"No!" Merlin said vehemently. "You didn't do anything like that! It was your mum's protection that did it, you heard him. And even if it was down to you, it would be self-defence." He had to admit that Merlin's words helped calm his racing mind. Self-defence. He couldn't be blamed for his magic (which was still weird to imagine him having) reacting to protect him. He was a one-year-old; he wouldn't have had any control over what happened.

He took a calming breath and gave his brother a small nod, squeezing his hand as he did so.

"No matter your feelings on Voldemort's downfall," the Headmaster began, "It was not only his defeat that granted you your fame in the wizarding world. People call you 'The Boy Who Lived', that isn't because of anyone's death, quite the opposite. You have that title because, somehow, against all odds, you survived that terrible night. You are the only person in history to survive being hit by a spell that was made to kill. That was what gained you your fame."

Harry didn't know what to say to the old man's words.

He was famous. Little Harry Potter, stick-him-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs Harry Potter, he's-a-nuicance-and-I-don't-want-him-around-our-precious-dudders Harry Potter, was famous. It just didn't make sense. How he had lived, how he had grown up, that wasn't how famous people grew up. This proclamation of his fame was a juxtaposition to everything he'd ever known up until twenty minutes ago.

Though . . . he had a vague memory of a man in odd clothes coming up to him, shaking his hand and thanking him, before aunt Petunia ushered them away, muttering about freaks. He supposed that made more sense now.

"So, because of something my mum did to protect me, I'm gonna be sold off like cattle to the richest person this Ministry can find?" It didn't sit well with him. He'd been told that he would be staying at the school now, so why was the old man telling him differently now?

"No, my boy." Harry bristled at his words. He wasn't his boy; Harry barely knew the man. Uncle Vernon had always called him boy, not Harry, no never his name, only boy. But still, the Headmaster's denial gave him some small amount of hope. "I plan on transferring your guardianship to the school itself, as soon as possible."

"You can do that?" Merlin asked incredulously, taking the words right out of his mouth.

"Not ordinarily, no. There needs to be rather specially circumstances to become a ward of Hogwarts. It is not something we can provide for any parentless witch or wizard."

Harry saw Merlin deflate at the words. Of course, he had been hoping that it could be done for the both of them, as had Harry. The Headmaster had said that he wouldn't let the Ministry sell him off, he didn't say that he wouldn't let them ship Merlin off to an orphanage. He was getting special treatment. He wasn't even this man's student, and he was getting special treatment.

"If it can only be one of us it should be Merlin, not me." Protests from both of them started before Harry could even finish his sentence. But it made sense, he knew it did. He'd be taken in by some rich pompous idiots, but to them, to this world, he was a hero, they'd treat him well and he'd want for nothing. If they treated him badly he could easily tell someone, because in the wizarding world his name meant something.

For as long as he could remember Merlin had looked out for him in any way that he could. It was Harry's turn to step up and take care of his brother. Merlin would just be one of many in some random orphanage, it would be better than his uncle Cenred's, but anything was. As long as he was in the wizarding world, Harry would be safe no matter what, the same couldn't be said for Merlin. He could do this for Merlin, he could protect him. He could make sure he was safe, he could -

"Mister Potter, that is enough." The voice was firm. It wasn't Merlin. "We understand your reasoning but it cannot be done like that."

Oh. So he'd spoken it all aloud.

"Harry," Harry looked up from where he'd been staring at his feet, into the blue, teary eyes belonging to his brother. "It isn't your job to make sure I'm safe. I know that you want me to be happy, but I'm happiest when I know that you're getting what's best for you. The only time that has ever happened has been this last day here at Hogwarts. If this is what's best for you then I would never let you give up, not for me."

He reached over to throw his arms around his brother. Harry thought that maybe this is what his mum might have felt for him, because he knew that he would do anything to protect him family, just like she had.

"I'm afraid that this decision will not be made based on either of your wishes," the old man started again. Harry broke away from where he'd buried his face in Merlin's jumper. "Mister Potter, your logic was, sadly, flawed. I believe I briefly mentioned Death Eaters to you. Well, unfortunately not all of them were convicted. Several of them roam as free men, and many of them are wealthy enough to sway the Ministry into giving them The Boy Who Lived. Some simply bribed their way out of justice, others lied well enough to convince people that they were never truly loyal to Voldemort. You are not safe 'as long as you are in the wizarding world', in fact, you may well be a target to some."

Oh. Right.

"There is a reason there have been very few wards of Hogwarts throughout our history. And that is because one of the conditions to implementing the protective magic is that the potential ward has to have their lives in probable danger outside the wards of Hogwarts."

Right.

"Then why didn't you do that from the start? Right after his parents died, when there were surely still these Death Eaters, or whatever, still uncaught. Why didn't you decide that his life was in danger then?

That- that was Merlin. It had been a good question; one Harry wouldn't have thought to ask. Though he was trying not to think of much at the moment . . .

A sigh, and then, "It wasn't as simple as that, I'm afraid. Part of me had considered it at the time, but Hogwarts is a school, it is meant to teach children, not raise them. A blood protection could be placed around the Dursley's house, as Petunia shared both Harry and Lily's blood, as long as he called that place home, he would be safe there." Why were they talking about him as if he wasn't there? "And a child like Harry Potter, he would have been treated differently by the students coming and going, I had decided it was best that he be raised in the muggle world, to experience a childhood without fame."

"Some childhood." Why were they looking at him like that? All sad and concerned? He was fine. His voice sounded sort of . . . off, sure, but he was fine. So what that there was some random people who wanted him dead? He always through his aunt Petunia might want to kill him if she could guarantee she wouldn't get caught, and that there wouldn't be a blood stain on her favourite rug. So this . . . this was nothing new.

"Mister Potter, you need to stay at Hogwarts for your own safety. There is nowhere else that can give you the sufficient protection."

So he wasn't really going to be free. He was just going to be locked away 'for his own safety'. That's what this really was. They would make him a ward of the school and he'd be hidden away in a castle like Rapunzel or something. He supposed it would be rather bigger than a cupboard, but a locked door was still a locked door if you weren't the one holding the key.

Harry zoned out after that. He let them talk, let them discuss his future. Arguing wouldn't change anything, and it wasn't as if he had a better idea or anywhere else to go. He trusted Merlin to do what he could for him. He seemed so happy at this school, so content. Harry was sure that he would try his best to guarantee the same things for him.

He let the conversation wash over him. There was talk about a spell or ritual or something that would magically make him a ward of Hogwarts. Huh, he'd never realised what a funny name for a school it was. Anyway, it seemed like there was minimal involvement needed from him, which was good since he didn't know anything about magic.

Then there was something about where he would sleep. Merlin seemed to be trying to get Harry permission to stay with him, in his dorm room, but that wasn't going to happen. He could see it on the old man's face, he was dead set against it. Something about it swaying Harry's future house, though he wasn't sure why that should matter so much. In the end they agreed that while most students were out of the castle, he would allow Harry to stay with his brother, but once the holiday ended he would be moved into some quarters near the staff bedrooms. Apparently all of the random teachers would be made to check up on him and it would be convenient if he was close to them until he became a student. Harry was sure the space would be bigger than a cupboard and that was all that really mattered to him at this point.

Harry thought that the discussion would be over then, but it seemed that Merlin had more fight in him than he had ever seen before. He was rallying for Harry's education. Harry had never really cared much for his schooling. He supposed that being continually forced to get lower grades than Dudley meant that he was used to putting little effort or attention towards whatever he was expected to be learning. But Merlin was adamant that he would still be going to primary school if he was with a muggle family, so if Dumbledore wanted Harry to experience a normal childhood then he would at least continue learning numeracy and literacy until he started his first year at Hogwarts. The old man argued that wizarding children didn't attend primary school, and were simply taught the basics by their parents, and that Harry already knew enough (he didn't seem like a very strong education advocate, for a Headmaster).

It was strange, Harry thought, to see someone fight so passionately for his wellbeing. He had known, of course, that Merlin cared about him greatly, that he would do all he could for Harry. But, for years, Harry had seen him accept his fate, accept how he was treated and what he was given, and Harry had seen him carry on living - no, surviving. Harry had always respected his brother, loved him for the mere fact that he loved him back, but he had never admired him. Not until now. Harry had never seen someone fight for him before, to argue over things he didn't care about, because he thought it would be better for him. But Merlin was doing that for Harry.

He blinked back tears as Merlin smiled over at him, triumphant, as the Headmaster conceded that he would figure out a way to continue Harry's education. He frowned quickly, noticing whatever look what on Harry's face. He put an arm around Harry before saying softly, "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask if any of this was okay with you, I just kept going. You know you could have told me to shut up." Harry could hear the apology and insecurity in his voice as he spoke.

He sighed, feeling far more exhausted than he should after only being awake for a few short hours. "It's okay," he said, burrowing his face into Merlin's side, "I trust you."