Hello! I am so sorry I have kept you berefit of fanfiction during this trying time. Like many, I struggled working from home during the pandemic for a variety of reasons, to the extent that I received extensions to my deadlines. Yet here, I proudly write before thee, that not only did I graduate with a 2:1 (woo) but also, I am now a publishing apprentice!
I wish to thank all of you who were with me 7 years ago, when I wrote that I did not know what I should do for year 10 work experience. You kind reviewers offered an array of options, several of which were related to publishing and writing of some time. Though perhaps I will approach that sometime, I think it is blatantly clear from the sporadic updates that I am not ready to do that yet.
Regardless, I wish to thank you all who set me upon the path that I am now. I write this not to rub it in your faces, but more to say that there is a light at the end of this tunnel, and that one day soon, we will all walk out into the light.
Word count: 5832
In the Hands of a Prophesised Vice
Chapter Twenty Two – Long live the King
The grape vine at Hogwarts was insidious, ever knowing and ever present, though that did not make it infallible. It was universally agreed that Morsague Siolrog had been attacked and had fallen, although the identity of the miscreant variant depending on the student and their house. Similarly, the presence of Merlin within the story shifted, some theorising that he was the miscreant struck with guilt over what he had done, whilst others did not place him within the event at all. Admittedly, his (inaccurate) role within the story was his own fault: after the meeting in the hospital room, Merlin had stumbled back to bed, still half-dazed by shock and had flopped onto it fully clothed. He awoke to Neville roughly shaking his shoulders, and Ron calmly panicking about the amount of blood in his bedsheet and his clothes.
Yet that did not leave it redundant. Over the next few days, the malicious acts increased, with more and more people ending up in the hospital wing. In the week following Samhain, more people had been injured than during exam season. Consequently, more people began to attend DA meetings on a regular basis, the grape vine whispering that Harry's teachings were what saved the Gryffindor couple's lives.
"Okay Lavender," Harry ordered, from his position next to Merlin, "You're up next."
With an audible sigh, Lavender picked herself off the floor and strode to the front of the class. She stood alone as she turned to face down her opponents, the room morphing into a long corridor at Harry's wishes. At the end were three students, representing the respective houses. Of course, there were four houses at Hogwarts, but there was no Slytherins in attendance.
There never was.
Indeed, Merlin had attempted to raise the subject with Harry numerous times in the beginning, but the longstanding ugly rivalry between the House of the Brave and the House of the Cunning reared its fearsome head and the boy refused to diversify. Since the attack on Morsague had become known however, the Warlock had caught the boy staring ponderously at the table during meal occasions, deep in thought.
Behind Merlin sat the rest of Dumbledore's Army, sitting quietly as they spectated. When Harry took a half step to the left, so that the three waiting at the end could see him, some people (mainly Smith, a Hufflepuff Merlin knew only due to the complaints assigned to him) groaned loudly at their sight being obstructed. But as soon as Harry gave them a quick nod, he stepped back into his original position and the three began to move.
Merlin knew not who the two Ravenclaw boys were specifically, although he shared Arithmancy with them. The Gryffindor representative however, he did: one of Hermione's dormmates, the kind who giggled and laughed at his corny jokes and played with their hair. It had confused him in the beginning that she attended twice the number of ordinary classes, flitting between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, until Hermione took pity on him and explained that she had a twin sister. He had forgotten about the possibility of twins – in Camelot, twins were incredibly rare and thus indescribably precious.
She was best friends with Lavender, Merlin remembered, which would make the match interesting.
Even though the three were sprinting down the corridor at full speed straight towards her, Lavender stood utterly still, the only tell-tale sign of the stress and perhaps fear that she was feeling was her wand trembling slightly.
"Impediment!" She shouted, aiming her wand at a Ravenclaw. A light blue light hot out of her wand, hitting him directly into his broad chest and freezing him in place.
Parvati and the remaining Ravenclaw continued to run towards her. Once more Lavender cast the spell, again at the Ravenclaw, but he had begun to run in zigzags, utilising his house's infamous intellect to ensure that he was more difficult to attack.
"Expelliarmus!" Parvati panted, pointing her wand at the Gryffindor. Lavender's eyes widened as the spell came towards her. She began the incantation of the shield spell but was unable to complete it before the spell hit her, causing her wand to only tumble out of her hand and not go flying.
"Good try Lavender," Harry proclaimed, moving forward to stand next to the girl. "If you made it a bit more of a slash when you cast the spell, the effects would last for longer. It wasn't your fault that Anthony used their Ravenclaw intelligence to their advantage by zigzagging, distracting you from Parvati. Mind," Harry added, grinning at said people who smiled back unabashedly, "that is another good tactic just clearly demonstrated. If you are ever under attack, a moving target is much harder to hit."
Lavender sat back down. Harry clapped his hands, being serious for the first time that night.
"I know you all think that the stuff that we've covered has been pretty basic. Impediment is after all a third-year grade spell. But I think you'll find that it's necessary. I'm sure that you've all heard about what's been happening recently. Whatever they may be, whether malicious pranks or simple accidents, there's one thing in common. People could and have been seriously injured. I assume you know that two of our members, Catriona Petrie and Calvin James were taken to the hospital wing after a suit of armour attacked them. They saved themselves by using impediment and their wits. I hope this has emphasised how even if some of you do not believe me about Voldemort, there are other dangers in the wider world."
Harry paused, letting his words sink in.
"That's all for tonight. Please be on your guard in the upcoming weeks until this attacker is caught. If you are in the younger years, try not to be alone – remember the more you have defending, the higher the chance you have of escaping unscathed. If you do come face to face with the person who's behind this, there's no shame in running away. I've done it many a time, and I'm here today because of it. Good night!"
The noise level rose as the crowd of students prepared to exit their haven. Merlin stood up, craning his neck as he searched the crowd for the tell-tale flash of waist length wavy blonde hair.
"It was a good session tonight, wasn't it? I've learnt lots from Harry." Neville had appeared from the crowd, coming to stand next to the Warlock.
"Indeed, it was precisely what was needed, I think. This conflict we are in the midst of is not going to end soon." Merlin responded absentmindedly. "Listen, Neville, can you perchance see Luna? I have been trying to converse with her all week, but she has been rebutting my attempts."
"She was just behind me, but I think she's gone now. I'm afraid she doesn't want to speak to you."
A touch of a frown pressed gently on the Warlock's brow.
"Why ever not?"
Neville shrugged regretfully. "I don't know sorry, but she won't be changing her mind anytime soon either. She was adamant on that."
"Well that simply will not do. Disregarding her behaviour, I must speak with her. It's urgent."
Neville frowned slightly, though the Warlock's attention was not on him. Once more, he scanned the crowd, the attempt this time meeting success.
"Luna! Over here – Luna!"
The Warlock waved enthusiastically as he stretched up to his full height. Irritatingly however, his target seemed not to notice his efforts. In the throng just before the bottleneck exit, she was a pool of serenity in the energy of the students. Thankfully, the redhead chattering away next to her saw and nudged her. She turned, saw that it was Merlin, and promptly swivelled back to the front.
Merlin scowled. Beside him, Neville raised his eyebrow.
"You must have done something bad. Luna's the most forgiving girl I've ever met."
Merlin brightened however, when the ginger girl nudged Luna again more insistently before grabbing her sleeve when the Seer continued to ignore her attempts. Reluctantly, the blonde allowed herself to be towed back towards Merlin, studiously avoiding his eye the whole time.
"Thank you, my gracious lady, for delivering your compatriot to me. I fear I might never have been able to speak with her otherwise."
Luna looked sullen. The redhead was amused.
"I see what they mean," She remarked, half turning to her friend, "and I'm impressed you've managed to remain unaffected by his charms, Luna. My name's Ginny, by the way. I'm that oaf's sister."
She pointed behind Merlin, who turned to find Ron chattering away towards Harry. The latter was seemingly not paying any attention to the boy, his gaze fixed on the Ravenclaw girl he had been staring at since the start of term.
"The resemblance is uncanny."
The conversation lapsed into an awkward silence as Luna continued to ignore the Warlock.
"Neville," Ginny said loudly, startling Merlin, who had fixed his attention so much on Luna that he had half forgotten there were others in the room. "Have you seen this plant I found? It's over here..."
Shooting Merlin another amused glance, she nudged Neville, the action startling Neville into action. They moved over to the fireplace, where a pot containing a Wiggentree sat. Luna immediately began to follow them, until Merlin's hand shot out to grab her gently by the arm, holding her in place.
"You and I must speak."
Twilight had always been his favourite time of day. The stillness of the hour, as the day transcended into night was ethereal in a way that he had never quite been able to describe, much less admit. His preference for serenity was one which he would never make openly known, except to those who already knew. Thus, he wandered Hogwarts, his friends left in the comfort and rancour of the Common Room.
His passage through the school left him with a permanent scowl as he caught sight of his reflection at every polished window he passed. His favourite cloak had been ruined beyond repair by the targeted attack that the weasels had paid. Though the enchantment could be reversed, the damage was irrevocable. He would always know that it had been violated. Tarnished. He had attempted to remove his cloak from his vicinity in order to burn off the germs it had no doubt contracted from those monsters, but they had placed a strong sticking charm onto it, and try as he might, he could not remove it. Still, the accompanying crown was of acceptable quality, which was an admirable feat considering the lack of funds the weasels had. Though that too, was held in place with a sticking charm, he thought that the jewels and the connotations accompanying the headwear was more befitting a man of his station, and thus he rather enjoyed parading around the castle with it on.
Arriving at a small alcove situated on the fifth floor, he paused in his journey. Though he resented the distance from his common room, the view in front of him more than made up for the inconvenience. The expanse before him mapped out Hogwarts grounds, in addition to the mountains that lay beyond that. The Black Lake glistened under the brightening moonlight as the Giant Squid's tentacles weaved in the half-light, the light reflected creating waves in the leaves of the trees dotted around the edge. Taking a seat, he committed the scandalous act of putting his booted feet on the furniture, stretching out to make full use of the space available. Here, with the illusion that he was lounging in his home, he could finally read the correspondence that he had received earlier.
Withdrawing the letter from an inside pocket which had been inserted into the lining according to his family's wishes, he cast one last look up and down the corridor, leaning so far out he was parallel to the floor in order to peer around the suit of armour. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he unpinned his prefect badge and jabbed it into his finger, allowing a drop of blood to spill onto the seal.
"Illustre stelle familia nostra."
May the stars guide our family.
The wax parted, allowing him to open the enveloped, revealing the missive underneath.
"...blood magic..."
He lifted his head, stilling immediately.
Silence.
He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the strands which had been artfully gelled in place. He had been having little rest of late, his dreams filled with unimaginable acts of magic and beautiful creations of power. Through the concepts were bewitching, their presence was not welcomed. It was OWL year, and if he was to prove himself, he had to work hard, regardless of what stage in the academic year he was in. A sudden urge to shake his head clear of the thoughts consumed him, but he artfully ignored the need to commit the unbecoming action. Returning his attention to his missive, once more he began to free it from its confines. Just as he completed the task, the torch opposite the alcove flickered, before extinguishing. After it did not relight immediately, he sighed wearily, manoeuvring himself so that he now sat on the opposing bench, where the remaining light cast by the fire a faint glow on the parchment, turning it gold.
No more has our home been one of stillness. We are at the epicentre of history, our footsteps leaving valleys in our wake...
...The Lady has been prophesing, Seeing the future in her dreams. She claims that is all she sees, yet I hear her at night when she screams. There is nothing in our future which could horrify her so, and thus I resolve that she is reliving her past...
...I have received a prophecy, my son, told to me by our Queen, Morgana. She has expressed an interesting in meeting with you, and if deemed suitable, will take you as an apprentice. I need not tell you how paramount this is, only that I know you will do your mother and I proud. You will meet her in the winter break. Prepare well my son, and glory will be yours for the taking...
He stopped reading as the wall of text became harder to read. Looking up, he found that the corridor had become dark, lit only by the torch he was beside. Though weak, what little moonlight emitted was dimmed by the thick dark clouds which had gathered, only serving to highlight the contrast between the darkness and pitiful light. As coldness seeped through his clothes to settle in his bones, the alcove suddenly seemed less inviting. The light flickered, the flame performing a contorted dance in an unseen breeze, projecting writhing images onto the surrounding stone.
In the distance, pounding footsteps sounded, the perfect silence disturbed by a wall of chatter, as an onslaught of students headed this way. But it was evening now, and no clubs were scheduled this late at night. Students were out of bed, and it was his responsibility as prefect to punish them. Smiling mercilessly, he repined his badge to his lapel, the slow and precise action contrasting the speed of his throughs. Leaning out of the alcove, a whispered aguamenti extinguished the torch, flooding the corridor in darkness, perfectly concealing him lying in wait.
Closer and closer the footsteps came, until they stopped, at the end of the corridor.
"Why's it dark?"
"Because the torches aren't on silly."
They were young – easily first or second years. Easy prey then. Except the prey were not moving down the corridor, instead meandering at the edge of the darkness, toying with it.
"I'm not sure..." A girl said uncertainly. "Didn't Hermione say that the torches will never go out?"
"You actually listen to her?"
"It's interesting!" The girl defended herself. "Anyway, she said they would never go out. What if," she lowered her voice, but it carried easily down the hallway anyway, rendering the action moot. "It's them."
Her companions hesitated. As they dithered, Draco began to move stealthily down the corridor, easily concealing himself in the deepening darkness.
"We're Gryffindors." A boy said, attempting to inject an air of grandeur. "We're supposed to be brave. I'm not scared of the dark."
He grinned. What a perfect opening.
"You should be."
The remark was spoiled by walking into a suit of armour, the clang of his foot striking the metal ringing down the corrirdor.
"They're here!" Another girl spoke hysterically.
"We're not running away!"
"We're not. Harry called it a tactical retreat. Now let's go!"
They began to scurry away, their voices and footsteps fading. Growling, he rightened himself after finding that rubbing his throbbing appendage did little to ease the pain. The darkness was thick now. Almost unnaturally thick.
With one hand trailing along the wall, he walked forward until his hand brushed against a torch bracket.
"Incendio," He gruffly muttered.
The conjured flames roared, lighting the torch for a moment, before fading into the abyss.
"Incendio!"
Spluttering into life, fire licked at the torch, desperately seeking sustenance. Then darkness reclaimed him and the whole world seemed to still.
"I am not afraid of the dark."
"You should be."
Chilly breath caressed his neck, leaving goose bumps behind.
He froze.
"There is nothing to speak about."
Luna's voice held no trace of emotion as she spoke, her words accompanied by an attempt to wretch her arm out of his grip. But Merlin remained resolute in his cause.
"Enough!" The Warlock half-hissed, suddenly conscious of their conversation being overheard. "That is enough, Luna! I do not have to explain myself to you –"
"Why?" Her voice was raised, uncaring if they caused a commotion. The vitriol in her clear blue eyes pierced him, freezing him in place. "Because I am a child?"
"Because it has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me."
"Only because you make it so. The Triple Goddess blessed you with your sight and so may the Goddess hate me but I can take it away again in an instant-"
She laughed. "You would take away my gift simply because I disagree with you? And still you do not see how you could be wrong? The great Myrddin Ambrosia, oh, he could never be wrong, could he?"
He went cold.
"Go. Before I say what I will not regret."
She laughed bitterly again. "It's telling that you don't regret what you've already said. And I will go, but not because you ordered me to, but because I don't want to be in the company of a murderer any longer."
Despite the bile of her parting words, she made no attempt to move away. They stood there for a moment, Luna glaring at him.
"Why have you not left mine sight?"
Luna rolled her eyes and yanked her arm towards her body, the movement hindered by Merlin's grip on it. It took a surprising amount of effort to unlock his fingers and release her from his clutches. By the time he had completed the action, Ginny and Neville had returned to them.
Immediately, the redhead started prattling away to Luna, not acknowledging the Warlock once as she led the Seer towards the door. Although the blonde was slow to respond, her attitude was completely different to the one she had previously displayed. To Ginny, she was happy.
Warm.
Merlin turned deliberately away, orientating towards Neville. When he spoke, his words were clipped.
"The Wiggentree is fascinating, is it not?"
Neville blinked, tearing himself away from his thoughts and redirecting his attention back to his dormmate.
"Yes, I've never seen one up close before! They're so rare, it's incredible that the room was able to conjure one up. They're protectors you know."
"Yes, I did."
He would know of course – it was his plant, after all. Merlin had harvested it on the Isle of the Blest, on the day that he had laid Arthur to rest. At the reminder of his King, his stomach rolled. He should not have been so harsh on the child, but Luna could not, would not understand. He was as intrinsically connected to Arthur as a wizard was to their magic. He was not one without the other. He was literally, not whole without his King.
If Merlin had been anything less, it would have driven him mad.
"You were the one to save the Slytherin, weren't you?"
Irritation flood through Merlin. His temper, already short due to Luna, was pushed to breaking point. He scoffed. "Not you too, Neville. Tell me, which is dastardlier? Saving a Slytherin, or not speaking of the attack in the first place?"
Neville took a step backwards at the vitriol spewing from the Warlock's mouth. His eyes were wide as he deliberately avoided Merlin's eyes. When he spoke, his voice quivered slightly.
"N-no. I was going to say thank you."
"I-"
"But with that attitude, I can't blame Luna for refusing to speak with you. I wouldn't want to either."
With that, Neville went after the others. With a click, the door closed, and he was left alone. His chambers were freezing as they morphed into his rooms of old. Once, the familiar surroundings would have offered him a modicum of comfort. Now, the only solace they provided was hatred and fear.
Merlin wrapped his arms around himself and had the sudden urge to cry.
Taking a step forward, he whirled around, wand raised in battle position.
"I demand that you show yourself!"
A harsh scoff.
"How dare you speak to me like that, boy, after what you have done."
"What I have done? It is not a crime to read private correspondence. It is a crime to threaten a prefect. One hundred points from your house. It will be a thousand if you do not reveal yourself!"
"Your house? After all that I have done for you, after the legacy that I spent my life building up for you and you claim my house not as your own?"
The tip of his wand wavered as he thought quickly. No Gryffindor would act so sneakily – they would already have attempted to attack him with their fists. Hufflepuffs were too spineless, and Ravenclaws had the sense to stay out of his way. The way he spoke of their shared house and legacies left –
The fury in the spectre's voice was like none he had ever heard before. It shook the ground, and warped the very core of his being, leaving him shaking and cold.
It couldn't be. He would not have come here, not to the school. And yet – and yet Scarface was here, and his power knew no bounds –
"My Lord."
He dropped to his knees, head bowed, one arm clamped across his chest,
But it was too late.
The harsh scrap of metal upon metal shrieked through the corridor, his ears only saved by the lack of rust in-between the joints.
Thud.
The sound of a booted foot stepping off a pedestal.
Thud.
Its pair following it.
"You are destroying the legacy that I built, and that I left for you to continue. And you have failed. I didn't spend my entire life building up an empire to see you destroying it. You!"
Thud.
"I- I have failed you, my lord, and I am sorry-"
Thud.
Suddenly, he was thankful for the all-consuming darkness. He was shaking now, and it was not from the cold seeping in through where his knees laid against the bare stone.
Thud.
"Has nothing that I have taught you sank in?" The voice hissed, sounding from behind the Malfoy Heir.
But that couldn't be – the movement was coming from in front of him.
"It is too late to grovel now. You have surrounded yourself with sorcerers! The blight upon our kingdom, the curse upon our land. I trusted you, I thought you had a good explanation, a new battle tactic, even if it was stopping to the depths of such depravity. And then you read out your correspondence, and I find that your sister, who betrayed us all, is back in our home?"
He had made a terrible mistake.
The... thing in front of him was not the Dark Lord.
Because the Dark Lord was the greatest wizard of all time and would never stoop to such muggle actions and terms, and Draco Malfoy had no sisters.
Scree.
Metal sang as a mace twisted and twirled through the air.
The Slytherin scrambled in front of him for his wand, cursing to himself all the while. Father had always said that reading aloud was beneath a Malfoy and that he would reap what he sowed and Merlin's baggy underpants he was right. His fingers brushed against a smooth rod and with relief he grasped his wand tightly, rising to his feet. Rising to his feet, he flung his cloak behind him in an action that in any other circumstance he would gladly label as majestic. No, obliviate that, it was majestic. Because even to his core, Draco firmly believed that if you were to do anything you should do it with grace and with style.
Thud.
Groping the wall behind him, he almost cried in relief when he felt the torch bracket. Quickly, he wrenched it out of its socket, and turned, throwing it forcefully in the direction where the voice had last came from.
A chuckle from his right. "What was that supposed to achieve?"
Taking a deep breath, Draco simply said: "this" and ran.
"You may be a fool, but I never thought you were a coward. FACE ME!"
"NO!" The Slytherin screamed back as he fled, his cloak still flowing behind him magnificently. To be honest, he was rather surprised that the crown on his head hadn't fallen off yet, but maybe the weasels had thought of that so had placed a sticking charm on it.
Seconds later, he collided with something hard, the breath knocked out of him as he once more reacquainted himself with the floor. No, not something, someone, who was groaning from the position in front of him. Ignoring them, he cursed loudly as he once again realised he had dropped his wand for the second time in five minutes.
"Where is it?"
"You looking for thi- Arthur?"
The Heir paused momentarily in his search. Though he recognised the voice, the emotions behind it were –
He shook himself.
"It's Draco, Ambrosia. Hanging around Potterhead and the Weasels has rubbed off on you it seems."
Though he could not see it, the Slytherin knew that Ambrosia flinched at the harshness of his voice and looked away.
"Now give me my wand. Quickly."
"My apologies. I thought you were mayhap someone I once knew." The sound of somebody fumbling to their feet. "Are you wearing a crimson cloak? And is that – is that a crown on your head? Perchance were you playing dress up?"
Draco sneered at the boy. "I'm not five anymore. Besides, how can you see me?"
"I have good eyesight."
"Not this good."
Thud.
"What was that?"
The irritating jovial nature to his tone had vanished, instead replaced byy something harder. Harsher.
"This darkness is unnatural," the words spilled out of Draco's mouth uncontrollably. Lunging forward, he narrowly missed the Gryffindor by a few scarce centimetres wth his third meeting with the floor that day only prevented by Ambrosia's presumed hand casually shooting out and holding him up like he was nothing. "And I need my wand now."
Ambrosia sighed.
"So reliant, you children with your wands. Here," He said, pressing the aforementioned object into Draco's hands with ease, as if it was the middle of the day. "Nonetheless, you are correct. This darkness is unnatural. It's like –"
Thud.
His voice tailed off.
Thud.
Draco ignored him. In the haze of meeting the Gryffindor, he had forgotten what he was fleeing from. Yet now that he had stopped, and taken his measure, the darkness no longer seemed to be absolute, for which he was grateful for. This end of the corridor was met with a set of stairs known for being flighty at night, and the heir had no wish to plunge to his death with one misstep.
Thud.
"No," Ambrosia whispered, terror filling his voice. "You cannot be."
Scree.
"I'm going, Ambrosia, and I suggest you do too. Lumos."
A small pool of light formed, and Draco could have cried with relief.
"Magic?"
He swung his Wand around, holding it outstretched in front of him, casting its brilliant light onto the corridor ahead, where the voice had came from.
Yet there was nobody there.
"You have magic! You! YOU TRAITOR!"
The voice roared, and in its anger, the torches flared up again. The heir pivoted, the immense relief at the oppressive darkness lifted crushed seconds later when his fear was confirmed. For meters ahead of him, a suit of armour stood, the spikes on the mace it held glinting menacingly. His stomach dropped when seconds later, the torches went out.
"N-no." Ambrosia croaked next to him. "You're dead."
Myrddin Ambrosia was terrified. But it wasn't the normal sort of fear, which one might expect from a stupid prank as this. No, this went far deeper, far more ingrained.
Draco blinked. "Hate to break it to you, but that thing is very much alive. In fact, he's coming towards us in a suit of armour. So snap out of it and be the bloody Gryffindor you're supposed to be, get your wand out and help me."
Unsurprisingly, Myrddin ignored him. Instead, he was scrutinising the corridor ahead, even though it was pitch black. Though it was difficult to discern his expression through the half-light provided by Draco's wand, something in him seemed to have steadied.
"Draco Malfoy." Ambrosia' voice was hoarse as if he had worn it out from screaming. It held something within it too, deep and coarse, that ignited the primal instinct within the heir, whispering get away. "Run."
He needed no further invitation. Draco pivoted and ran. Moments later, the corridor flared with light purer and brighter than the sun, emitting from Ambrosia's position behind him further up the corridor. Even though it blinded him, it also sang to the heir, in a way that nothing had ever before. His vision temporarily comprised, the Slytherin paused in his retreat. He turned, curious to see the source.
It must have been the sudden light. Myrddin Ambrosia was still standing where Draco had left him, and his eyes were shining gold.
"Here," the idiot said, throwing something at him. Draco caught it, his Seeker instincts kicking in. "At least make thyself useful if you are to disobey me. Guard it – I have now only finished it."
The Malfoy Heir gaped as he looked down at the wand in his hand.
"You're insane." He muttered weekly. "You're going to get yourself killed, especially without magic."
Myrddin smirked.
"Bold of you to assume I am powerless."
Thud.
Screee!
The suit of armour stood, mere seconds away from dissembling the student with one strike.
Myrddin let loose a dark chuckle.
"I must inform thee," He said in an almost conversational manner. "That I have had rather a bad day, nay week. A close confidant of mine has named me murderer, and even though it is true, it still hurts, rather surprisingly. Is it not amazing that even after all this time, it is the barbs of words which hurt more than actions themselves?"
"You," The voice spat.
"Are you always a coward? I would call it kingly not, to terrorise and persecute children, but I think you already know that."
The suit of armour gave one last mighty creak before coming to a stumbling standstill. In front of it, the air shimmered as something was formed. The air thrummed around them, and the darkness which had been fighting against the light dimmed, before vanishing completely. As it gained in power, the edges became more focused until eventually, it was complete.
In his mind, Draco had called his pursuer a spectre. He had not been wrong.
An old man stood in front of Myrddin Ambrosia, scowling balefully. With greying, curling hair which was partially flattened by a crown similar to the one one that Draco himself was wearing, every bone in his face was pronounced, leaving hard, defined features which some might call handsome. The padded gold belted tunic and dark grey trousers were covered by a long black coat, accompanied by hard thick brown leather braces partially covering the huge black leather gloves.
But it was the eyes that disturbed the Slytherin.
They were dead.
Ambrosia grinned stupidly.
"Are you ever quiet?"
Ambrosia shrugged with ease. "No. It is a blessing. You, however, are not. I know not how you returned to this earth, Uther Pendragon, but I swear by the Goddess that I will gladly send you back through the Veil, and I shall do it with pleasure."
Uther Pendragon glared at the student standing defiantly before him.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance, Merlin."
As a side note, as a result of my apprenticeship, I have learnt that the comic sans font was designed specifically for those with dyslexia! Out of curiosity, I decided to write this chapter using the font, and to my surprise, the words flowed with ease. There are some passages which I feel were not written by me, as they feel so different! If any of you struggle to write something, whether for work or for pleasure, perhaps switching to a different font might help.
Till the morrow 😊
4Eirlys