A/N: Italics for thoughts

Classes are also random (sometimes) with no exact schedule.

—

"Do you want me to get you a headache potion?" Merlin queried a trifle worriedly, concern strapped in with his voice for the seemingly exhausted Potions Master that sat behind his desk with a hand propping the side of his forehead up. It was only twenty minutes of the lesson and the overgrown bat had already taken away roughly fifty points from Gryffindor, to which Merlin would hand their points back to them for having a tidy desk and the correct preparations for class. "You really don't look too well."

Snape wheeled his head around to look up at the assistant and frowned, thoroughly confused by the lack of sarcasm that would usually be in his tone. "I'm surprised you care, a minor improvement in your behaviour I'd say," he sneered, readjusting his grip around the quill. "But no, as much as it pains me to say, I need to complete these papers by the evening. And I certainly can't afford to leave this class of dunderheads alone, no, that's out of the question."

A majority of the class lifted their gaze from their cauldrons and potions textbook, some filled with contempt and others with irritation before continuing on with their work. "Bloody git," one of the Weasley's if Merlin recalled accurately, Ron Weasley. Merlin looked his way before sighing, holding back the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in a Snape-like manner.

"I'm quite offended that you don't think that I could handle a single class, Severus," Merlin grinned, trying to lighten the gloomy mood, laughing quietly to himself when he used the professor's first name. The man scowled as if on instinct at his assistant, making an effort to bare his teeth. "Here, I'll do this for you. Just count this as an apology for being such an annoyance." He bent himself down over the desk slowly, lifting a hand from his side and snapping his fingers in front of the Potions Master before stepping back.

He watched — a little too proudly — as the colour-drained expression of the overgrown bat shrunk considerably into one of complete and utter puzzlement. Although the only remainder of the man's major headache was his furrowed brows and deepened frown, the warlock figured that it was just one of his key features and personality that built them up. But with a single look, he could tell that there was more colour that returned to his face. All he had to do now was to try and stay out of his way, on behalf of the students as well, as to not rile him up any further. He knew fairly well that the man took his work very seriously when it came to the topic of potions, and in no way did he want to hinder the man's talent or compassion in the subject.

As if already sensing the question in the Potions Master look by itself, he chuckled to himself quietly at his obvious confusion and masked curiosity that he was failing to mask up. "Not all cures emanate from wands and potions alone, Severus. Magic alone can prove to be a very fitting tool if one is trained correctly." If he had to be completely honest — not that he was actually willing to admit it — his words were more of just emptying his mind out than anything. If anything, he was pretty sure that he probably got those lines from some ancient book that he read in his personal library. Once he got to actually looking around the class, he clamped his lips shut before blabbering out, "Or something along those lines anyway."

Glancing back down at the Potions Master to reassure himself that all was fine, he was instead met with a look of complete loathing. Well, not completely to the point of driving him off the edge of his temper, but rather just a frustrated look, like he was conceding to defeat. With a curt nod that surprised a great majority of the class greatly, Snape swept his gaze across the rest of the room, hurling an intense glare towards the poor first years that spoke more than words.

—

The rest of Potions was relatively uneventful and somehow managed to run along more smoothly than what was expected of it. There was, of course, the bickering of house-pride between the stubborn lions and snakes occasionally, but then that was exactly when Merlin decided to intervene before things were to get thrown out of hand. The Malfoy child was especially aggravating, continuously spitting insults at any of the Gryffindors with his lackeys snickering from behind as pathetic supporters for his giant ego.

"What do you think all that was about?" Harry finally asked, walking alongside his newly made friend and adjusting his walking pace to keep up with him. Potions had just ended and their next class was Transfiguration, a subject that had somewhat struck his interest. "The professors, I mean."

Ron turned his head to face him with a shrug of his shoulders, "I dunno, but that blue-eyed guy seems cool. For a Slytherin, he'd be a pretty good Hufflepuff, don't you think?" At the nod of his head, Ron continued, "Have you heard the rumour though? Apparently, they're supposed to be brothers or related in some way. Professor Evans looks more… well, he's nicer than Snape though, so I don't think it's actually true."

"Yeah, I guess so. I thought you said that Slytherins were supposed to be arrogant and evil though. Evans doesn't look anything like that, but instead the complete opposite." Harry remarked, arching an eyebrow as he stared at the red-haired boy, grinning briefly at the tint of pink that had spread along his cheeks and then to the tip of his ears.

"I-I know! That's what dad told me at least. Said that all those dark wizards come from that house," Ron tried to hide the fact that he was flustered by shaking his head a little. "That's why it's so weird! Just take a look at Malfoy, he's the typical stuck-up kind of Slytherin. Maybe he persuaded the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin!"

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows with a puzzled look, "Why would he want to do that for?" He questioned with a frown. From what he could tell just by looking around a little closer, Slytherin was by far the most isolated house in school, which actually almost made him feel sympathy for their misfortune. They didn't interact with any of the other houses — unless of course, it was out of house rivalry and other nonsense to start fights or arguments — so why would anyone voluntarily want to end up there? Let alone try to influence the Sorting Hat to go there?

"Maybe he's a Gryffindor in disguise!" Ron suggested excitedly, swiftly managing to avoid colliding with a Hufflepuff student while trekking their way up the marble staircase. "I mean, he gave us points for just having our desks tidy, or when we were working quietly," his smile broadened as he started to recall their previous class eagerly. "He even defended us when the Slytherins were taunting us! That has to mean something, right?"

Harry openly agreed with his friend, nodding his head vigorously with the same smile mirrored across his lips, but he couldn't help but have a sense of doubt. "Still, it's odd though," he mumbled to himself, Ron just barely succeeding to hear his words, "Compared to all the other Slytherins, he's so optimistic, like Dumbledore. You can see it in his eyes, that odd sparkling kind of effect."

Ron paused in his walking, his eyes seeming to wander off into a hidden corner of the portraits somewhere before continuing on and catching up with his black-haired companion. "Y'know, you're right. He does have that kind of effect in his eyes now that I think about it. Weird, but wicked!"

After a few lingering minutes of sweeping down the halls with the rest of their classmates, they were met with the familiar appearance of their Potions professor standing idly outside the door, holding it open for the students to file inside with a cheerful smile plastered across his face.

"No way—" Ron gaped breathlessly, eyes flipping open widely in disbelief. "We have him for Transfiguration class too?" Harry suppressed yet another chuckle and instead gave a smile at his red-haired friend. Ron was gaping wide-eyed at the professor now standing in front of them as they had advanced forward. "Are you helping in this class as well, Professor Evans?" Ron found himself asking, his squeaky voice making him sound more eager and desperate than he would've liked.

Evans looked down at them from his tall height, gracing them with a small smile that was practically screaming with mischief. "Indeed I am, along with a couple of other subjects. Oh, but I'm more of just an assistant than an actual professor." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "But if you need any help or have any inquiries throughout your classes, I'll be more than happy to assist you in them."

With the three of them exchanging comparable nods of recognition, they travelled in, Merlin standing off to the side as he gave a respectful inclination of his head to McGonagall. She returned the greetings stiffly, a brief flash of curiosity sweeping across her features before tightening sternly. Now wasn't the time to get carried away by the new assistant, she had an entire class of boisterous, thick-headed Gryffindors to lecture.

Nonetheless, she was still their Head of House, they were basically like her grandchild at this moment. "Settle yourselves, young lions," she called among the class, her voice a little hoarse, Merlin noted. "Today, we will be trying out with our first topic of transforming a simple, ordinary match into a little thing of a small needle." At this, the class broke out into enthused whispers and murmurs with their tables, eager expressions painting their faces. "However, before we begin with the practicals of transfiguring such things, you will be required to copy down a list of passages that elaborate the many practices and potential consequences that may occur in this session." Groans from across the classroom were cued as well as many sighs of disappointment. Merlin had to slap a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing right then and there.

"Straighten those backs, lions! I will not tolerate any forms of laziness in this classroom. I may be your Head of House, yes, but, I expect each and every one of you to flourish in this subject." Her eyes crossed the room, from the left and then to the right, orbs temporarily resting on Harry's gaunt and slender form. She made what looked to be a half-smile and a frown at the same time. "Now, let us begin."

—

Throughout half of the lesson, Merlin had been quite taken aback from the overall determination and eagerness of the class once they had begun their first performances of practising transfiguration. Especially Harry Potter, who was having small difficulties with handling his wand properly. His hands had grown visibly sweaty and he was showing some obvious signs of brewing frustration. Merlin eventually settled in moving towards his desk with Ron, the red-haired child lifting his narrowed gaze from his match and into the sparkling twinkle of Merlin's cerulean orbs.

"You doin' alright there?" Harry too, had raised his attention from his match and into the eyes of the warlocks. Merlin had a somewhat light-hearted and comforting smile across his lips that really intensified just how pointed his cheekbones were.

Harry shook his head slightly, grumbling in response, "No, not really. How are we supposed to… I just don't—" Merlin took notice of how the boy was trying to bottle up his anger by scrunching up his nose and shaking his head a bit more vigorously.

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted, "It took me a couple of days to actually do it right. Nearly made it explode once." Ron chuckled lightly from beside Harry, having pictured the overall result in his mind. Quite disastrous indeed. "Here's a tip," he kneeled down to get within eye level with the match, stifling a laugh at Harry's reddening face. "Focus all of your intent and concentration solely on the object before you, nothing else, no thoughts, just forget the noises around you."

Almost everyone on their side of the classroom had paused and stopped in their attempts of transfiguring their matches, having given up on the task at hand and instead, steering their full attention to the demonstration happening behind them. The duo was waiting for their Slytherin professor to make a move to grab his wand, but to their surprise, he stretched a hand out instead. Some of the students were so awestruck by the action that their jaws slipped open in eager anticipation, eyes widening broadly as others either scooted closer on their chairs for a better look or literally lifted themselves from their chairs and moved closer.

"As easily as it is using a wand, wandless magic is most effective when it comes to using transfiguration on items," he added as a side-note, not expecting them to write it down but rather just for some bonus information. "Focusing all of your magic on the object at hand, try imagining the process of it physically morphing into the desired item. And so, in this case; a needle."

A small spark of what others assumed was something similar to glitter pouring out from a wand erupted from the middle of his palm, shooting out towards the match lying prostrate on the desk in front of the two students. No sooner than the second they spotted it did it diminish and evaporate in thin air as the match began to move and lurch on its own, the red tip of it blending in perfectly with the chalky wood that acquainted it. The shade of pink that the stick took on was soon transformed into a light silver and metal entity, growing slightly narrower at its bottom and briefly thicker at the other end.

Everyone couldn't help but recoil at the abrupt spark that had flown out from his hands, afraid that it was something similar to that of fire. Harry's eyes snapped open, his mouth finally falling open like the rest of his classmates. Merlin lifted himself from the burden of crouching for so long on the cold wooden flooring before dusting his pants off, looking back at the redhead and thunderstruck boy that sat next to him in their chairs, casually smiling at their shocked — if not slightly frightened — expressions and brushing it off.

"Did that make any sense? I hope it did, sorry if it sounded like nonsense." Merlin blabbered, awkwardly clapping his hands together with a timid grin. Once his words registered in the student's minds, he found himself in the middle of their attention, all eyes staring right back at him in awe. "Uh," he stammered uneasily, darting his eyes from each child to the next, "D-Do you have any questions?"

Ron was the first to exclaim, "How did you do that? That was wicked awesome!" Harry couldn't find the words to say, so he settled for nodding his head in eager agreement. And soon enough, the entire class erupted into countless voices that drowned out any sense of comprehending what anyone was trying to say. Most of them were raising their voice just to speak over the other. "That was wandless magic, right? Isn't that like— like really difficult to master? Only Dumbledore can use it and— and—"

Merlin quickly interrupted the disruptive chatters across the room with a flick of his hand, effectively muffling out all of their voices with the single movement. "Alright, alright. How about we save the questions for the end of class?" he wasn't really sure if they would be able to actually ask their questions at the end of class, but it would be easier to conclude their constant prattling and boisterous voices from assaulting his ears for any longer than what was necessary. Merlin took notice of their excited expressions falling into despair and swiftly added, "If there isn't enough time to answer all of your questions in the last few minutes of class, you may find me in the teacher's staffroom for any inquiries you may have."

All the light that was drained from their eyes were immediately rekindled as they speedily returned to their seats without further complaints. With another swish of his hand, the spell that was cast around to cancel out their voices was promptly lifted without any added trouble.

Merlin reinstated himself to standing idly at the side of McGonagall's desk, raising a hand to cover the opening of his mouth before yawning into it. Briefly, he thought back on the Sorting Hat that was sitting on top of his head under a concealment charm that made it invisible to those in his company. It wasn't pleasant to have him there, but the constant nagging he insisted on wanting to explore Merlin's mind finally got to him, submitting to defeat and allowing the irritating artifact to remain there.

Have you entertained yourself enough with my memories? Honestly, why couldn't you be a little more… silky? Merlin huffed, resisting the urge to scratch the top of his head. Maybe I should just make a new Sorting Hat, you probably carry all sorts of diseases with the number of heads you've mounted.

There was a disgruntled groan. You are abnormally childish, you know that don't you? It's simply unbelievably that you're the great and almighty Merlin, the most powerful warlock to have ever walked the surface of the earth. Dumbledore seems more suitable for that title — if it were not only for the lack of power and overall magic he owns.

Merlin rolled his eyes, discontented with the Hat's words. He didn't even have the energy to give a fitting reply to the aggravating monument, instead, he naturally settled for shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders before sagging them down. Internally, he admonished himself for acting like an angsty adolescent going through the awkward stages of puberty.

"Mr Evans," McGonagall called to his attention from behind her desk, where she looked to be finally finishing off the last of some paperwork in front of her. He swivelled his head around to face her, giving one of his automatic polite smiles with wide, ingenuous eyes. "If you don't mind, I have a question of my own that I wish to ask you. Is that alright?"

Merlin motioned with his hand for her to continue, nodding his head. He didn't take any notice of the students that were curious enough to look up from their matches and listen in to their conversation. "It's fine, go on," he insisted.

"Thank you. I was speculating if you've attended Hogwarts before, or maybe a relative of yours?" she questioned curiously, steepling her hands together over her parchment. Merlin looked taken aback from the question, blinking blankly for a second before grinning widely. "You see, there's just something about your appearance and features that prompt me to recall an old friend of mine I once had during my time of attending Hogwarts. He too was sorted into Slytherin just like yourself, as well as the keen interest that the Sorting Hat took in you." Here, she leaned forward with narrowed eyes, a peculiar glimmer of amusement sparkling in her eyes. "Tell me, Mr Evans. Who are you really?"

Silence descended over the entire classroom, all heads elevated from their class objective and pointed towards the front of the classroom where the two professors stared intently at each other. Both of their eyes mirroring the similar flicker of hilarity in them furtively. Simultaneously, the two of them side-glanced at the rest of the class, who were gazing at them from their seats earnestly.

"That is a story for the teacher's lounge, wouldn't you agree, Minnie?" Merlin bit the inside of his cheek to try and stop himself from grinning any wider than he was, savouring the shocked expression from the elderly witch, snorting to himself when she indignantly huffed.

"It would seem so."

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