The first years hadn't even finished filing into the hall before the head of Gryffindor house shot up from his seat and screamed "Stupefy!" across the high table. Any doubts about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor who'd been employed seemingly out of nowhere—and couldn't really be the famous, disappeared Merlin, could he?—were probably dispelled when he dove out of his chair and elegantly disarmed his assailant, sending the latter's wand flying into the pudding.

Wedged in the confused huddle of first years, Artoria resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands, assuring herself that no one could know her relation to Merlin yet. She also guessed she knew who the very angry man in blindingly vibrant red and gold robes was.

Unexpectedly finding himself wandless, Gilgamesh roared and flew at Merlin with his fists instead, to collective amazement. Of the other residents of the high table, Waver Velvet alone calmly sipped his tea, even when Merlin's boot streaked past him, missing his pinky by inches. The man at the center of the high table, who must have been the headmaster, Solomon, sarcastically berated them but quickly gave up and settled for guarding the strawberry shortcake.

At some point Gilgamesh got his wand back, and they went at it, blowing everyone's plates to pieces, until the apparently more responsible of the two, Merlin, managed to shout a suggestion that they take this quarrel elsewhere, at which point Gilgamesh chased him out of the Great Hall with multicolored explosions and "How dare you leave me! You bastard, bastard, bastard!"

After a moment, Solomon coughed awkwardly and offered, "Well, they'll never learn to behave. Why don't we start the main event?"

A tickle on her leg told Artoria Fou had given up on Merlin and come to accompany her. She picked him up and let him hide in her robes, then allowed herself to zone out while the other students were sorted into Houses, her gaze floating up out of the crowds, past the chandeliers and multicolored banners, up to the enchanted ceiling, wheeling with stars, some constellations she thought she recognized from home, and—is that a ghost? She'd never seen a ghost before, and now, wondered, how someone might become one….

"Pendragon, Artoria."

All of a sudden, the hall went silent. Brought back to earth, Artoria balled up her fists. Well, Merlin had warned her. The prickling of many eyes followed her as she made her way up to the Sorting Hat, feeling for the first time that she was far too small, her legs were far too short. In the muffled air, she sat down on the stool. When nothing happened, she glanced up. Her eyes met Solomon's. The hat still in his hands, he was looking down at her with a strange expression, almost the kind you'd give to an old friend, familiar but measuring. Quickly, he smiled, a little sheepishly, and dropped the hat on her head.

"Oh, there's no doubt about it," a voice whispered in her ear, and then, "Gryffindor!"

"What!"

In one sweeping soundless motion, all heads turned to look for the source of the outraged cry and it turned out to be Merlin, clinging with both white-knuckled hands to the doorframe of the Great Hall.

"Ha, mongrel, it looks like you've raised cuckoo!" Gilgamesh appeared at his shoulder, tangled in fistfuls of shimmering white hair and grinning with the mania of a hyperactive cat.

Merlin shook his fist at her, yelling, "Artoria, you make sure to lose lots of points from Gryffindor!" and then he was dragged out of sight.

The brief reappearance of the dueling professors seemed to crack the tension. Silence melted into whispers and Artoria finally got her round of applause, which grew more and more enthusiastic as the Gryffindors gradually got over their anxiety and got around to thinking it wouldn't be so bad at all to get Artoria Pendragon, daughter of dead Uther and Ygraine, missing for ten years, and the prophesied archenemy of the dark lord Goetia.

That morning, when they'd arrived at King's Cross, her dearly beloved godfather Merlin had given her three orders. It was the first time she'd left their little homestead, so the buses and new sights and crowds had her dizzy by that point, but she'd always listened when he got serious.

The first was, "Anything suspicious, come to me or the headmaster."

The second was, "Don't leave the school grounds."

The third was, "Don't let anyone know you've met Waver before."

He'd hesitated for a moment, then elaborated, "Especially not Gilgamesh. He'll be the handsome, blond, angry one."

Merlin, I'll guard your secret to the death, she swore silently. She caught glimpses of him, through the press of Gryffindors filing out of the Great Hall, still screaming and dashing down the halls (and sometimes up the walls) with Gilgamesh in malevolent pursuit. Whatever your secret is. I will guard it to my dying day.

Mid-oath, though, someone tapped her shoulder. "You're really Artoria Pendragon?"

"Yes?" Jostled out of her thoughts, she turned. It was another first-year.

"Wow," he said.

"What's your name?"

"Gawain."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," he said politely. "You were really raised by Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Wow," he said again.

She recalled the stares Merlin had gotten when he'd entered. "Is he famous?"

"Incredibly." She waited for him to elaborate. It took him a second to realize that was what she was doing. "He's one of the ones who defeated Goetia," he said. "He's the one who got him so badly they say he's not much more than a ghost anymore."

"Yeah?" She'd known this all her life, her parents having died the same night; the awe in his voice was unsettling.

"They say there's no magic he can't do, supposedly he can even see into people's thoughts and dreams—can he really?"

"I don't know, I mean," She thought for a moment. "I guess it has felt like he's known what I was thinking a few times." Alright, a lot of times. An annoying number of times. This conversation was starting to get weird, so she tried diverting the subject, "Is Gilgamesh famous too?"

By the end of it, for the umpteenth time that day, Artoria's head was spinning, and she nearly kicked all the unfamiliar belongings off her bed before she realized it wasn't her bed and apologized profusely to the other girl, who introduced herself as Ushiwakamaru or Minamoto-no-Yoshi…?

Before they'd left, she'd made Merlin tell her about all the professors she'd have first year, except for Waver Velvet, who'd visited a couple times over the years, and Gilgamesh, who Merlin had melodramatically pined for all her life and referred to as her step-godfather whenever he wanted to see her turn green. It was only now that it finally occurred to her that that was an unforgivably insufficient descriptor. It also only now struck her that Merlin hadn't seen the man for the whole ten years he'd spent with her. Or most people. So whatever he said had to be taken with an ocean of salt. In fact, she didn't even know that much about him. She'd never seen him angry, for instance.

A small paw tapped her cheek. Fou wanted in on the blanket.

Never mind, never mind, she decided, I'm here at school to learn, so I'll figure out everyone soon enough, that's exactly what I'm supposed to do here. I'll learn what I need to defeat Goetia, and I'll figure out the man who raised me.

With that reasonable plan, she fell asleep.

· · ·

For all that Gilgamesh went around calling everyone mongrels, he was actually a half-blood. His mother came from a very old, very powerful pure-blood family, and she married a very rich Muggle, and together they produced the most autocratic baby the world had ever—sorry, one of the finest wizards Hogwarts had seen in a century, right up there with Solomon and Merlin for sheer infuriating talent. But, what really made him famous was that he'd spent the last decade screwing with Goetia.

That dark wizard had killed his best friend and he'd never let it go, throwing aside all the career offers he'd gotten out of school in lieu of sabotaging the erstwhile dark lord at every turn. Which was a perfectly reasonable course of action, really, considering most of the magical community wanted to forget about the destruction Goetia had wrought the moment he was defeated. The gleeful violence with which Gilgamesh went about that task was another matter, though. He went around hunting and killing Goetia's minions, the Demon Pillars, even the reformed ones. The methods varied, but there was a lot of impaling, apparently. He also blew up every residence Goetia was rumored to have taken at any point in time. Once, Goetia tried to possess a little girl in Solomon's care, Solomon figured it out, and while he was out looking for books of exorcism Gilgamesh learned the theory to the Occlumency he'd always been able to do and taught the little girl. Supposedly he was trying to teach her to curse out the dark lord when Solomon returned just in time to stop him. He'd come out of that fateful duel with Goetia at the Pendragons' house with cursed wounds that still caused him trouble, but that hardly stopped him. Goetia wanted the legendary herbs of immortality to recover his old strength, so Gilgamesh found them first, burned the whole stock of them, and left a Howler telling him what he'd done and daring him to come get the only one left, which would be in Gilgamesh's pocket.

Then about eight years after the Pendragons' deaths and Merlin and Artoria's disappearance, Gilgamesh went back to Hogwarts, and Solomon, by then the exceptionally youthful headmaster due to the premature passing of his predecessor, as well as his own immeasurable magical skill and amiable disposition, made him his replacement as professor of Transfiguration.

But at the moment, Artoria really wished he taught something else. Like fencing or something. She'd never gotten why Merlin had made her learn to use a sword, but she was good at it.

It was embarrassing to think of now, but she had to admit that ever since she'd found out that her classmates hadn't really been allowed to use magic until they entered school, part of her had expected to stand out, had looked forward to the praise.

Now, though, the holes in Merlin's training were becoming obvious. Sure, Professor Lainur had given her points to Gryffindor in History of Magic and she had performed excellently in Professor Velvet's first Charms lesson, but she'd had no idea what was happening in Potions, and now she was staring at a match that was refusing to take on even the slightest character of a needle. Her face burned more hotly than it had since her first lessons at home as measured footsteps came closer, closer, and stopped, right in front of her desk.

"Well, now. Would you happen to be able to turn matches into swords, or did that fool consider this subject unworthy of his attention?" Gilgamesh sneered, folding his arms.

Today's class was the first time she'd seen him since he'd attacked Merlin in the Great Hall; he hadn't shown up at meals since. He'd even had the prefects hand out everyone's schedules. Artoria ducked her head even lower, feeling herself getting angry now, because she knew everyone would be watching her since he'd decided to pick on her after all. He'd attacked Merlin in front of the whole school. Obviously he had a terrible temper, and look who she was, student of the despised Merlin.

"That's why I'm here," she muttered.

Next to her, Bedivere spun his wand anxiously.

"Keep that in mind," Gilgamesh said, a trace of a grin in his voice, enough that Artoria looked up. "That bastard was always a natural. I don't think he could explain most of his tricks even if he tried." And then he called the other students over and walked them through the spell again with surprising patience.

· · ·

At the end of the day's lessons, Artoria marched downstairs to Merlin's office and, finding the door open, stepped right in.

"He's alright," she grudgingly admitted.

"Who's alright?" But it wasn't Merlin's voice, and to her horror, who leaned out from behind a bookshelf but Gilgamesh himself, apparently... eating chocolate?

And Fou was perched on his shoulder.

Artoria stared at him for a second before she tore her eyes away and searched for Merlin. He hadn't had the office for long, but it was already a disaster. Books were scattered carelessly across the floor and represented the minority on the shelves, which were instead populated by flowers and potions. There was a fluffy doghouse balanced precariously on a stack of suitcases. Fou was certainly not a dog and Artoria knew he accordingly disdained the doghouse, which was just as well, because Merlin had stuffed his boots into it.

At last she caught sight of him half-hidden behind some framed object covered by a flowery sheet, bringing over a slice of cake. She gazed beseechingly at him for some cue on how to reply.

"Yeah, who's alright?" Merlin asked, characteristically betraying her in cold blood. He set the cake down in front of Gilgamesh. And then refilled the other man's cup of tea before settling down, hands on cheeks, to blissfully watch him chew.

"Bedivere," Artoria mumbled.

"Excellent! Already making friends, you are!" Merlin sent her a thumbs up.

"Okay," she said. "Well, goodbye then."

She darted out as quickly as she could. Thank god she hadn't been more specific, but at least it seemed like Gilgamesh wasn't trying to kill Merlin anymore, so that was good. But what's he doing in Merlin's office? she thought. Afternoon tea? Are they friends again? Oh god, does that mean Merlin's going to be embarrassing?

She was spared from imagining impending horrors, though, by a crisp slap on wood that echoed in the hall behind her. Following it came Gilgamesh's voice, cold and harsh.

"Sign."

A pause.

"You can't really believe I'd do that," Merlin said.

Artoria instantly withdrew her semi-favorable review of her new professor.

Just as she was rushing back, however, the office door swung closed and their voices were cut off, just as if silenced by a spell.

"Hey—!" But she stopped herself before her fists hit the door. What am I doing? They're two grown wizards in a school. They can't kill each other now. I'll just have to make Merlin tell me what this is about.

Because she'd never heard her guardian sound so genuinely terrified.

· · ·

Herbology was a bit of a nightmare. Their instructor was a hardy-looking man called Arash, who'd introduced himself as a professional farmer and seemed approachable enough up until he brought out the pots of toddler mandrakes and cheerfully told them to put on earmuffs or risk being knocked out for the week. Dear Bedivere was so good with the mandrakes that Arash asked him to come over next morning to help feed them breakfast, but Artoria had very little patience for bad-tempered plants.

On the bright side, though, Artoria made a new friend over the course of the struggle with the murder babies. She and another Gryffindor, Cú Chulainn, fought over the mandrake pots the whole period, and by the time they were allowed to take off their earmuffs, her temper was up and she slammed her fist down on their last tray.

"A duel!"

Cú got right in her face. "2 a.m., second-floor storage room behind the fake wall!" he replied with a manic grin.

"Second-floor girl's bathroom," she said.

"Ah? Why a girl's bathroom?!"

"You got to choose the floor, I choose the room. And," she leaned in until they were nose-to-nose, "That way we can wash off the blood."

"Oh, that's how it is? Alright, then, we'll see who's bleeding by the end."

Artoria straightened primly. "Gawain, will you be my second?"

"Sure." Gawain brandished a broken pot like a sword.

Cú clapped the shoulder of the other boy at their mandrake tray. "Diarmuid, how about you back me up?"

"Of course," Diarmuid said, just as delighted as Gawain was to be taking part in a duel for honor.

So, it was with great excitement that she headed off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, eager to put some fear of God into her opponent. Not that she had unanimous support, though.

"Are you sure about this?" Bedivere tried, matching her brisk pace towards Merlin's classroom. Gawain was off behind them somewhere, enthusiastically reviewing hexes he'd heard about with Lancelot and Tristan.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Artoria retorted.

"I hear he was taught by Scáthach," Bedivere said.

"Wait a minute, the really old—"

She was cut off when the hall before them exploded and something bright and fluffy shot out of the nearest classroom and crashed into a suit of armor across the hallway with an ugly screech of metal on stone.

Hardly believing her eyes, Artoria watched her teacher clamber out of the shattered armor, his white hair and robes scorched and smoking. Merlin directed a trembling wand towards the classroom and cried, "You're all insane! This is no different from last time!"

Gilgamesh came striding out, looking exasperated. "You're outnumbered," he said.

"Since when did you care for democracy?!"

Gilgamesh's eye twitched. "You're wrong," he said.

"You can't change your angle just like that!"

Gilgamesh averted his gaze, which happened to bring the budding crowd of students to his attention. "You're making a racket," he said, "We'll come back to this."

"Hey, fix my classroom first! Hey!"

But he'd strolled out of sight already. Sighing, the other professor straightened and flicked his wand to restore his robes to pure white.

"Now," Merlin turned to the assembled first-years, his hair still sizzling faintly. "I will acknowledge that I probably haven't made the most impressive showing so far. However, I hope you will allow me to address, regardless, any concerns brewing in your little heads that you might have the wrong Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. That man," he gestured towards the stairwell that Gilgamesh had just disappeared into, "Doesn't know a single defensive spell."

He paused for effect.

Then apparently got some thinking of his own done during that pause. "Well, I suppose the Patronus Charm counts," he mused, rubbing his chin. "His is a cute cat, who would've guessed? But that's it!"

"Wow," said Cú. Artoria surreptitiously gestured at Merlin's smoking hair. He let out a small oh! and put out the fire.

Suddenly, they heard a distant yell from Gilgamesh and a thundering rumble that sounded like a whole wall collapsing. "Oppugno!"

That brought a bright smile out of Merlin. "I jinxed the stairs, just in case," he told them. "And what he just used to escape the rockfall was a jinx generally used to direct objects at some poor victim."

Another angry cry, this time sounding like Professor Velvet.

"If he'd bothered to learn something like the Shield Charm, people might hate him less," Merlin said serenely.

Obviously, once he said that, the class divided into parties that wanted to learn either the Oppugno Jinx or the Shield Charm, but he managed to put everyone in their place after five minutes of ineffectual practice at each (to her satisfaction, Cú was just as incompetent at both spells as the rest of them). They switched to more on-level content.

All in all, a fairly productive class. Artoria hung back afterwards and approached Merlin.

"Hello, Artoria, would you like to go for some tea?" he said, waving his wand to fix up the classroom. As a virtuous instructor with the interest of maximizing class time, he hadn't yet done the full repairs.

"I've still got homework," she said.

"Oh, I forgot about that." He conjured a row of flowers to decorate the bookshelves and brushed off his hands in satisfaction. "What is it, then?"

"Is Gilgamesh trying to get something out of you?" she asked.

He looked at her and laughed breezily. "We're both trying to get quite a lot out of each other."

"What did you mean by 'you're all insane?'"

"The administration. You should know our pay as professors is terrible, even if we get room and board."

"No different from last time?"

"They did offer me a spot pretty soon after I graduated," he said smugly.

"What was he trying to get you to sign?" she pressed.

"To sign…? Oh, that, it was the employment contract. They updated the terms and conditions."

"But you didn't want to sign it."

"Yes, it's inhumane to change an employment contract."

"Really?"

"Yes indeed."

"Huh."

"I'm touched you were worried about me, Artoria! But don't work yourself up too much, I am your reliable godfather and he is, after all, your step-godfather."

The vomit welled up in her innards. "Ugh, again!"

"I don't want a step-godfather," Artoria muttered.

"You don't want a what?" asked Gawain.

"Nothing."

"Oh."

She took a long swig of pumpkin juice. That didn't help at all.

"He's definitely trying to get something out of Merlin!" Artoria hissed. "And he won't even let him talk about it! We have to figure out what it is and stop him."

"Why?" asked Lancelot, stabbing a fork into his steak.

Artoria stabbed her fork into her own steak. "Think about it! Merlin's obsessed with him, but if whatever's on that thing Gilgamesh wants him to sign is something even Merlin won't do or give, it can't be anything good!"

"No, I know, but I mean, why do we have to do something?" Artoria furrowed her brow, then glanced at Gawain and found him looking just as uncomfortable as Lancelot, who went on, "Merlin's one of the greatest wizards out there. I don't think Gilgamesh can really do anything to him. And if he can, if even Merlin can't handle him, then how can we?"

Artoria clapped his shoulder. "Have more confidence, Lancelot. We have the element of surprise."

"I don't think Merlin would appreciate us interfering with his private affairs, though," Bedivere said, gracefully sliding his knife through his steak. "He does seem to like Gilgamesh."

"He does," Artoria breathed. "Yes, he does." A fire blazed up in the pit of her stomach. "We've got to deal with that, too! I haven't told you all of that, yet, right? He's liked him for years, and look! The moment they meet again Gilgamesh tries to kill him, and now he's trying to drag him into something he obviously doesn't want to do. Merlin's usually a bastard, but he's such a… a doormat in front of him…. If we don't stop them now Gilgamesh is just going to take advantage of him—I won't stand for it! Are you with me or not?"

With varying degrees of reluctance, they all agreed.

"What do we do, then?" Gawain asked, shovelling in another mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"I'd like to see that contract of his… But I don't know how feasible that is. I think the best thing to do now is try to catch them alone," Artoria said.

"They'll know we're there," Bedivere pointed out.

"I've got an invisibility cloak."

They all gave a start. To get as far away from the teachers as possible, they'd chosen to sit at the very end of the Gryffindor table, and another boy in Hufflepuff colors was now staring at them, apparently on the way in to dinner. Artoria didn't recognize him.

"Oh," he said. "I'm Robin Hood."

"You have an invisibility cloak," said Artoria.

"Yeah. I can lend it to you."

Artoria narrowed her eyes. "Thanks, but why?" Would Gilgamesh have spies? I can't tell if he'd bother.

Robin shrugged. "Whatever you're doing sounds interesting."

Dodgy answer. "And what do you have to get out of it?"

He scratched the back of his head. "You wouldn't happen to know a way to avoid being turned into a pig, would you?"

Artoria scrolled through the spells in her mental catalog. That sounded vaguely familiar, like something Merlin would tell her when he was hyperactively drunk or pretending to be drunk as an excuse to be hyperactive, she was never sure. "Yeah, I think?"

"Can you teach me?"

She put out her hand. "Alright, we have a deal."

He stepped in and shook her hand.

"Wait," Gawain piped up. They both looked at him.

"Can we borrow the cloak tonight, then?"

· · ·

"So you've come," Cú said, grinning viciously.

He'd have looked more threatening if he and Diarmuid weren't obviously standing as far away as they could from the bathroom stalls, nearly leaning on the sinks.

"Prepare to die," said Artoria. Joke's on you, I can do a decent Shield Charm.

"What's he doing here?" said Cú, jerking his chin.

Artoria glanced at Robin, who'd insisted on coming with them—the cloak was probably the most expensive thing he owned (it was now carefully tucked under his robes). "Oh, we ran into him on the way," she said. "He won't tell, right?"

Robin put up his hands. "Your fight, your business. I am but a passerby." Then he melted into the shadows.

"Right, then," said Artoria, almost bouncing on her feet with excitement. They bowed quickly, and as soon as the courtesy was over she shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!" shouted Cú.

Her spell bounced off and Artoria stared at him.

"You're a first year," she said.

"So're you," said Cú, also staring.

"You were faking in class?!"

"So were you!"

"Why in the world do you know spells like that?!"

"The old lady heard I was prophesied to die young, so she decided I'd just have to learn everything earlier. Why the hell do you know stuff like that?"

Artoria wanted to curse, of course the Ministry of Magic wouldn't pick on Scáthach. She fought down the angry embarrassment. "Well, Goetia's trying to kill me!"

"Ahh, that makes sense."

"Well, now what?"

He pointed his wand at her again. "Silencio!"

"Meloflors!"

They managed to dodge each others' spells, silently agreeing that shields and counters would be exquisitely dull. Artoria sent jinx after jinx at him, then crashed into a stall to avoid his. He crashed into a sink, and suddenly seemed to get a bright idea. A moment later the soap dispenser came flying towards Artoria, raining soap onto the already damp floor.

"Hey, watch it!" Gawain shouted.

"Cú, we don't know how to fix that!" Diarmuid added.

But too bad for either second's concerns about property damage, Artoria was furious at not—flattening—him—immediately —and finally! A hex shot out of the tip of her wand that blew off half a sink and— "Damn!" Cú just managed to dodge.

"Are you insane?!" Diarmuid cried.

Artoria shot out of the stall, losing control of her feet for a second and sliding in the soapy puddles. She managed to grab onto the shattered basin, though, prompting Cú to retreat behind an open stall door. "Petrificus Totalus!" she snapped.

She was sure she'd aimed well, but nothing happened. Cú realized the same and started laughing at her. Stupid! She geared up to try again.

"What are you doing?"

Merlin was standing in the bathroom doorway, still fully dressed in his white robes, which made him look almost ghostly in the flickering torchlight.

"What was that jinx that turns people into dogs?" Artoria asked. "Also, I'm sorry about the sink."

Violet eyes drifted over to the sink, but he soon decided to affix a stern gaze upon her. "Are you children trying to duel?" he said.

"Yeah, so?" said Cú, leaning out of his stall.

Merlin sighed. "Alright, all four of you, come with me."

"Four…?" Artoria glanced around. Robin had disappeared. Sneaky of him, but good judgement in the end, probably. At least Merlin wouldn't find out about the cloak. "Gawain and Diarmuid are only here because we asked them," she said, marching out of the bathroom. Cú threw a resentful kick at a sink and yelped when the stall door behind him swung open and knocked him over as punishment.

Merlin led them through the shadowy castle, not saying much. Artoria figured it was probably best not to say much, either. They'd knowingly broken the school rules, even if it was for their honor, and she was prepared to take the punishment. If they lost points, she'd just work harder to win them back. After a few flights of stairs, they stopped at an unfamiliar door. The headmaster's office? Merlin rapped on it a few times. There was no response.

"Curious," he said. He peered down at the lit crack under the door. "He's usually awake. Oh well. Alohom—"

The door swung open. Ah, she should have known.

"What," intoned a dishevelled-looking Gilgamesh. His hair, usually neat and soft, stuck up in strange places, and he had a reddened splotch on his forehead.

"Oh, good, we came at the right time," said Merlin, gesturing at his forehead, "It's not healthy to sleep at your desk."

Gilgamesh squinted, uncomprehending. "Huh?"

Merlin reached over and tapped the splotch with his wand, wiping it clean away. "There, unblemished." Gilgamesh's scarlet eyes went wide.

"You—"

"But, dear head of Gryffindor house, tonight I am here to present to you misbehaving students." Merlin went on, pulling Artoria and company into the light. "Artoria and Cú were dueling in the second-floor girls' bathroom, caused quite a bit of damage, too. I believe the other two are their seconds."

Gilgamesh arched an eyebrow. "Well," he said. "Go clean up after them. I'll deal with them here."

"Certainly." Merlin performed an exaggerated bow, then spun around to leave. "Oh, that's right." He spun back round with a whip of silvery hair. "I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I might as well now. An owl just came, Achilles said he'll be dropping by at Christmas."

"Who?" said Gilgamesh.

"Achilles? The Greek Seeker—Oh, I forgot you haven't followed Quidditch since Ishtar got picked up by the Goddess Alliance. Hey, but don't you remember? He was your Seeker when we were here!"

"'Achilles'... Oh, him. But he wasn't very good, was he?"

"Were any of us very good, in hindsight?"

Gilgamesh sniffed. "Enkidu and I were brilliant."

"You were thugs," said Merlin. "I'm not even sure Enkidu was playing the same game as the rest of us."

"Only when you were around," Gilgamesh said mildly.

"Ehh, really? I feel so abused," he said, and then he trotted off into the dark.

Then he came back. "Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

"No."

"I'll treat y… you can treat me," he changed tack mid-sentence.

"No."

He trotted off into the dark again.

That left four children staring up at Gilgamesh. He looked them over. "You're in Hufflepuff," he said.

"Yes, sir," said Diarmuid.

"Rejoice, you'll be berated tomorrow by your head of house. As for you three—Artoria Pendragon, have you truly taken that mongrel's words to heart and devoted yourself to losing as many points as you can?"

His voice was low and snide and that sent all of Artoria's penitential inclinations out the window. Her face burned furiously, again. "No," she muttered.

"Good, because there are more efficient ways than destroying toilets in the middle of the night. Why not set fire to the Great Hall at breakfast? And ah, Cú Chulainn and Gawain, raring to have a fight, are you. Let's see, fifty points off for each of you."

Artoria's heart plummeted, teachers had only given out points in increments of five or ten so far! "That's a hundred and fifty points down for your own house!" she cried.

"Ha! Admire your handiwork," he laughed, and suddenly doubled over and vomited a stream of blood.

"Professor?!" Diarmuid rushed forward.

Gilgamesh quickly righted himself and waved him off. A flick of his wand and the blood was gone. "A minor affliction. Now, what spells?"

They were all taken aback. Cú repeated, "What spells?"

Gilgamesh clicked his tongue. "What spells did you use in your play-duel."

"It wasn't a play duel!" protested Artoria.

He ignored her. "You may both have five points back if you report which spells you witnessed your opponent fail or miss."

"Silencio," Artoria said immediately. But that was her mouth moving before she meant to, and it already felt dishonorable, but too late.

Shooting her a vengeful look, Cú said, "Petrificus Totalus. And I'm not sure Meloflors was working—"

In an instant all four of them were mutely paralyzed on the spot with their heads encased in pumpkins. And he left them like that all night.

A/N: This was supposed to be a short story about MerGil and property damage but things got out of hand
Originally posted on AO3, much further ahead there!
Comments always fervently delighted in!