CHAPTER 2 - a cat and three teenagers

Merlin strolled through the streets of Diagon Alley, a slight bounce in his steps. A history teacher! He hadn't felt this excited in years -the last time he had attended Hogwarts had been at the start of the industrial revolution, and that had been as a student. He had learnt a great deal about modern magic in the 5 years he was there; he just hoped that it would be enough to compensate for his lack of modern magic usage.

Merlin weaved through the hustle and bustle of the magic-folk as they flew in and out of shops, as they hurried up and down the street, as they jumped up, and down, buzzing with glee as they bumped into old friends. Merlin was reminded very strongly of a beehive.

He turned the corner, hoping to have a little retreat into The Three Broomsticks, when he glimpsed a flash of blonde ahead of him. The flash disappeared into a narrow alleyway; Merlin's Magic zapped out into action, zooming into the alleyway, and lassoing itself around the blonde's ankle.

Arthur spun around swiftly to face the culprit, his hand flying instinctively to the left side of his belt as it if were as natural as blinking.

Light blue met dark blue.

Scowl met grin.

Arthur groaned, his face morphing into a mock expression of disgust, "Ew. It's you."

Merlin gasped, placing his hand on his heart, "What do you mean ew? I'm the best sight your eyes have ever been laid upon!"

"Then I must have been living in a sewage pipe in the 20th century my whole life, with only toads and flies to alleviate my boredom whilst waiting for a poor excuse of a warlock to rescue me, only to find out he has forgotten." Arthur said flatly.

Merlin rolled his eyes slightly. Sometimes he really wondered why destiny thought it was a good idea to pair them both together in such a crucial, world changing destiny when they couldn't even have a full conversation without turning into children. "Oh, come off it about the sewage incident Arthur. That was half a century ago. And you said I was forgiven!"

"Forgiving is not the same as forgetting," He muttered, glaring darkly at the clumsy, uncoordinated figure in front of him.

"Oh, stop it. You're being such a drama queen. You're enough of a drama king as it is," A glare was earned. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, Gary wanted me to give him some more unicorn hair from our stash. He asked me why I still looked the same as 20 years ago though, so I told him his eyesight must be getting bad in his old age," Arthur paused, blinking, "maybe I should have just aged myself a little before going there."

"Gary?" Merlin frowned.

"Yeah – Gary, you know… Garrick? Garrick Ollivander? The wrinkly guy who – "

"-yes, yes I know who Ollivander is," Merlin said, shaking his hand around in the air as if swatting away a bothersome fly, "I just didn't realise you were on nickname basis with him."

"Oh. Well, I'm not really."

"What? Then why- "

Merlin froze, a large smile slowly creeping up on his face, illuminating his eyes as if they were Christmas lights. He slowly tiptoed away from a bewildered and concerned Arthur.

"…Merlin?"

"Shush. I sense a presence," he whispered without glancing back, disappearing around the corner.

Arthur rolled his eyes, leaning against the brick wall and preparing himself for another one of Merlin's little shenanigans. He contented himself by simply watching the ants crawl into the nooks and crannies of the cobblestone path – Merlin would be fine – only if he heard a scream would it mean that something had gone wrong. He smiled a little, remembering how at first Merlin's so-called missions would make him worry for hours over his friend's well-being. When he realised they were going to be an everyday occurrence, he forced himself to 'stop being such a mother hen', as Merlin put it. Now he barely batted an eyelid when Merlin would start acting weird and warlock-y, then vanish, then come back with some elaborate, dubious story. It seemed now was a such time.

And alas, Merlin lumbered back to Arthur within minutes. Arthur did a quick scan of him, relievedly concluding all was intact. Then he saw that maniac grin; he did a double take when he spotted the vast matted boulder of ginger fur in Merlin's arms. The fur shifted and suddenly two bright, evil orange eyes were staring back at Arthur, as if catching him red-handed trying to commit a crime.

"Wha- what is that?!" King Arthur, the Once and future King gasped.

Merlin's eyes rolled up to the heavens, "This, Arthur, is a cat. C – a – t, if you didn't know how to spell it."

Arthur quickly adjusted his posture into a kinglier position, desperately gathering his pride up and stuffing it back in his brain.

"Right. I knew that." He said, clearing his throat.

"Of course you did."

"WELL, IT'S NOT MY FAULT IT LOOKS LIKE THAT! No normal cat has that much fur, or that squashed up face, or those creepy orange eyes. Not that they are creepy to me of course."

"Of course." Merlin said, his voice trembling from reigning in a huge tsunami of laughter.

Arthur studied the cat as it jumped from Merlin's arms and waddled around his feet, it's mountain of fur jutting out in all sorts of impossible directions, as if a hair drier had been permanently stuck in front of it's face. It tottered back to Merlin, who was currently in the midst of a laughing seizure on the floor.

"Y – YOUR FACE! Arth – you – you were SCARED of a – C - CAT!" Merlin succumbed to another bout of howls, rolling around on the ground like a lunatic. Arthur sighed deeply. Merlin was never going to forget this.

Then he heard a shuffle.

He looked up and blinked.

Three pairs of eyes blinked back at him.

Arthur unceremoniously dragged the maniac up from the floor, staring at the three teenager's shoes in embarrassment as Merlin hurriedly staggered into a standing position, gripping onto Arthur's arm to stabilise himself. The teenagers looked at Merlin with concern and mild fear – it must have been a sight to behold – a gangly, muddy, big-eared figure swaying inelegantly like a drunken man, eyes bloodshot and tears of mirth running down his face.

"D - don't mind me," Merlin wheezed, taking large breaths to compose himself. "It's his fault." He heaved, pointing at Arthur.

Arthur schooled his features into an apologetic expression, looking directly at the children for the first time. Standing closest to him was a girl, with undeniable, unmovable fire in her eyes that reminded Arthur strongly of Gwen. She radiated true determination, unshakable morals and knowledge, and Arthur found himself feeling immensely proud of her despite not having a clue who she was. He knew that if she gained someone's trust, and vice versa, she would fight for them until the very end.

Behind her stood two boys, one with flaming red hair and pale skin, with soft eyes that spoke of childlike innocence and humour, strategy and competitiveness. His eyes reflected true loyalty, and even though there was a thin tread of nervousness intermingled through it all, his courage was stronger than many. A true companion.

The other boy had inky untamed black hair, not unlike Merlin's. He stood with confidence, but possessed hidden layer of insecurity, as if there was a permanent scar of fear, deceit and mistrust that had only just started to heal. He held intelligence, power, anger, and an unchangeable surface layer of kindness and compassion. His modest bright green eyes analysed Arthurs every move like second instinct – he's experienced, Arthur thought, why is he experienced?

Arthur's eyes wandered up from the green eyes to a thin scar on the boy's forehead; it was covered partly by his thick fringe, but he could just about make out the outline of a lightning bolt shape. He could feel dark magic pulsing from there, with Tom's name written all over it. But only - oh. Oh dear. Oh dear.

"Just typical," He heard Merlin mutter beside him.

How they get themselves into these situations was beyond him.

Arthur cleared his throat, "Greetings young people," He could almost hear the rolling of Merlin's eyes. "I must apologise on behalf of my friend here. We think he has some sort of mental affliction. I am looking into- "

"-Hey! I apologise on behalf of my friend as well." Merlin said, glaring at Arthur, "He tends to say things that are untrue. He also got scared out of his wits by a cat."

"A cat?" The girl gasped, eyes wide with hope, "What did it look like?"

"Ginger, hairy – too hairy, looked like it had been rammed into a wall head-on, and really orange eyes," Arthur mumbled, "a bit disturbing if you ask me."

The girl perked up and Merlin smiled gently, reaching behind a café sign to pick up said cat up.

"This fluffy boy is yours, eh?" He hummed, placing the cat into the positively beaming girl's arms. "He's a special one he is - half kneazle as well. Found him wandering about in the streets."

"Crookshanks," the girl breathed, cradling the creature gently in her arms as if he were a fragile China doll. "Why did you run off? I thought we'd lost you,"

"At least one good thing would have come from this trip," The red-haired boy muttered into the boy-who-was-almost-certainly-Harry-Potter's ear.

Merlin's eyes crinkled softly around the edges at the scene in front of him, of the girl hugging her cat, Crookshanks apparently, as he nestled in her arms. The joy and fulfilment of helping people never failed to release something warm inside of him – after all, it was his sole purpose – screw the complexities and limits of fate and destiny; the desire to help people was the foundation he was built upon. If he couldn't do that, then he couldn't do anything.

"Thank you," The girl said, letting out a short, relieved laugh, "thank you for finding him,"

"Ah, it was nothing," Merlin said, and the beam on the girl's face only got wider.

"I'm Hermione Granger," She said, reaching out to shake Merlin and Arthur's hands, "and these are my friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter."

The King and his Warlock grinned, if a little exasperatingly. It was just their luck that Harry Potter's first impressions of them was of a usually stoic man who got scared by a cat, and a crazy bumbling fool who constantly looked like he was high. They had heard about Harry of course – of his beautifully tragic story of love and sacrifice. Merlin himself had felt a miniscule shift in the balance of the world on that Samhain night of 1981 – where he later learned via the Triple Goddess that a soul was meant to have passed through the other side but had somehow remained in the world. Through listening to the endless gossip of the magic-folk, he concluded that it had been Tom Riddle. The little orphan boy he had briefly met not 60 years ago.

Merlin felt for Harry – he really did. When he looked at him, he didn't see the saviour of the wizarding world; he saw a lost young boy with an inescapable destiny thrown upon him. He saw himself.

He used to despise destiny and fate so much in his Camelot years. But now he understood that it was both inevitable and necessary to have a select handful of people to embark upon such journeys. It was a way the fates could subtly control humanity, to guide it in a particular direction, to prevent the threads of humanity from tying themselves in a tight knot. It was a shame he couldn't help people more with their destinies – yes, he could give them a little leg up or a hand to hold, but in the end, there was only so much he could do without getting scolded by the Triple Goddess. It was not a pleasant experience.

Arthur nodded at the trio, "I'm Arthur, and this is Mer- "

MALCOLM! Merlin all but bellowed into Arthur's mind.

"-alcolm." Arthur finished guiltily, hoping the slip up went unnoticed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Arthur and Meralcolm," Hermione said politely.

Merlin unsuccessfully hid a snigger, "It's Malcolm. Just Malcolm," He patted Arthur on the head, "Arthur here has a bit of a speech impediment."

The three teenagers chuckled and after a few more minutes of Merlin's blabbering, they said their goodbyes and headed off.