GUYS WHAT I can't believe people are actually following this story! THANKS SO MUCH you've literally made my life.
Hope this next chapter grants you a little break from the day makes you forget about life's problems
also, sorry for not publishing this chapter sooner - I've been on holiday, and catching up on all the summer work I've been procrastinating on.
I spent ages on this chapter, so hopefully the language is better than all the other ones I have written :)
2 weeks later…
"Oh, shooker danga whizzer fricker nicker nizzles," Merlin cursed, as he stubbed his toe for the third time that day.
A woman walking past shot him a concerned look, before abruptly grabbing her children's hands and strolling off in the opposite direction.
Merlin sniffed,
Do I really look that insane? He wondered, not for the first time.
Squaring his shoulders and tilting his chin up slightly, he tried to look at least a bit more regal, but he knew he was a lost cause really. In his heart he would always be a clumsy buffoon.
The familiar chugga chugga of a train met his ears; it got slowly faster, as if it were out of breath, as if it had been running for too long. Wheels screamed in pain, in agony, in relief, as they slowed to a halt on the railway track.
The train released a mass of warm uncomfortable air at Merlin's face, like a sigh – succumbing to tiredness after it's long trek.
It was just another helpful reminder of Merlin's abnormality when he realised he was feeling sympathy for a train.
Rolling his eyes at himself, he continued to stroll through King's Cross Station.
Of course, I'm sure you can all guess where he was heading.
"Ah!" He exclaimed suddenly, "Platform nine and three quarters! Oh, the memories of this place," he said, clearly thinking back to the first time he used the entrance.
It had included three jellyfish and a very angry tap dancer.
It was not a memory he wanted to dwell on.
Merlin walked determinedly towards the bricks, one hand dragging his luggage (which mostly consisted of his favourite plants) and the other clutching his stick.
Wand Merlin- it's a wand.
He grinned for a moment, before strolling into the brick wall; and Magic elatedly welcomed him into its warm embrace.
Of course, Merlin could have just apparated into Hogwarts – or his recent favourite – swimming. How he swims to places without there being a constant source of water is up to you to decide.
But this time, the warlock chose to go on Hogwarts express.
Why?
It's simple.
How could he miss such a perfect opportunity to eavesdrop on children and guess what house they would be in? And no Arthur, it was not creepy in the slightest.
And he loved to observe the younglings – the first year's eyes darting around nervously, their smiles of relief as they found a friend to pour out their worries and dreams to. He loved to watch the seventh years, as they discussed the upcoming shenanigans, as they filled each other in on the summer holiday happenings, as they staggered under the burden of their future. As he listened to them, he allowed himself a moment to mourn the childhood innocence and playfulness once present in them, that had now grown into wisdom and honour – inevitably so, but Merlin had never been good at goodbyes.
So here he sat, in a compartment at the end of the train, on his way to teach at Hogwarts. His eyes were closed as he felt the gentle stroke of butterfly wings on his forearm, as he hummed in harmony with the rumbling drone of the train, and the gentle hum of chatter –
"Hello?" A light, high pitched voice called him out of his daydreams.
"Mr? Hello?"
"Why hello there!" Merlin exclaimed, sitting up.
The girl standing in the doorway smiled dreamily, inviting herself his compartment and sitting gracefully down on the seat opposite, plonking a quibbler magazine to the left of her. A third year maybe. Her fair hair flowed more wildly than a waterfall, her eyes were bluer than sapphires, her skin whiter than that of a unicorn. She wore curious unique garments, held herself with a stripe of confidence, wit and wonder. Her mind overall seemed to be everywhere but the present. She was
Mystical.
Other-worldly.
She was already a friend in Merlin's book.
"My humble apologies for interrupting your wandering thought trail," She spoke, and it sounded more like a melody rather than words, "…but I couldn't help following the source of this amazing magic- "
"Oh, for Avalon's sake…"
"-so, I used my middlest eye to follow it's footprints, and here I am."
Merlin released a long, exasperated sigh. "Just how many people can sense my magic around here?" He moaned, thudding his head gently on the window. "You are the second person! It was never as bad as this before!"
"Oh, sorry sir." She hummed, not in the least apologetic.
"Name's Malcolm."
The girl smiled, a hint of amusement and suspicion visible in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow but did not question him. Instead, she stared at him with those preternatural eyes, as if hypnotising him, daring him to maintain his façade.
It was then Merlin decided to give in to her curiosity. She leapt up at the obvious surrender in his eyes and grasped the opportunity to look into his open door.
"Are you human?" She asked excitedly,
"Hm, well others seem to think not," he begun, mock-mysteriously, "but I mean, if one's parents are both humans, then surely they are also human?"
The girl's eyes widened eagerly.
"And" he continued, "a tiger does not breed with a tiger and produce a guinea pig, does it not?"
She nodded, enthralled.
"But, then again," He whispered, leaning closer to her, eyes twinkling, "iron only becomes a magnet when there is a magnet for it to be attracted to."
She gazed at him in bewilderment and awe.
"So, in answer to your question, yes, I am human. Well, mostly."
She studied him for a moment without breaking eye contact, not making any move to break the silence.
Merlin waited, patient.
After a few minutes, she seemingly came to a decision.
"I trust you." She spoke softly, a sentence so simple, yet the words felt so intricately chosen.
"You trust me?"
"Yes. Three reasons. No, four. First, is that I do not see any intentions of malicious intent coming from you."
"Thanks," Merlin mumbled.
"And secondly, your natural aura is swimming with goodness. Thirdly, you have Ninigurgles."
"Sorry-what!?"
"Ninigurgles," the melodic voice said, "they live at the ends of strands of hair that haven't been cut for a long time – they are the creatures which cause split ends. They only live on pure-hearted people - or at least people who have the potential to be pure. Either way, it still means the people have good in them… although…I do have a few queries with yours." She cupped her chin in her hands, and tilted her head, not once breaking eye contact. "You should only be housing a few Ninigurgles judging by the length of your hair, yet you are absolutely drenched in them. And they are meant to be nocturnal, yet yours are jumping up and down as if they are sugar high. It is the middle of the morning."
Ah, I believe this one is Ravenclaw then.
"Welp, I think you'll find that most things can break through their normal boundaries when around me," Merlin chuckled in resignation and amusement, "Well? What's the fourth?"
The girl's eyebrows knit together.
"You said there were four reasons behind your trust in me."
"Oh, yes," She spoke, finally unlocking her eyes from Merlin's, and flicking them down onto the palm of his hand. "What shadowed person would handle such a delicate creature so fondly?"
Merlin grinned, gazing down at the blue butterfly settled soundly in the heart of his palm. She was a truly beautiful creature – such delicacy and grace laced into those wings, such power and perfection.
The butterfly had been a constant companion through the years – especially the years before Arthur returned. In a way, she was Merlin – the soft, elegant part of his soul, simplified into butterfly form. He could conjure her whenever he wanted – sometimes he did so subconsciously, and sometimes she would just appear without his intervention. She was strong, kind, if a little too kind at times. But she was one of the few ones who kept Merlin grounded.
"This," he said, softly running his finger down her wing, "is Haewena*."
"She's beautiful," The girl breathed, mesmerised by the delicate beauty.
"Isn't she so."
She beamed in awe as Haewena awoke, slowly stretching her heraldic blue wings and fluttering over to the fair-haired girl.
A few moments of comfortable silence passed, mostly consisting of the girl's light-hearted laughs as Haewena tip-toed along her arms and onto her dress. It was an innocent scene to watch - so simple, so honest.
After a while the girl spoke again.
"I've decided I'm not going to question you any further." She stated, sitting up straight.
Merlin raised his eyebrows. This was one interesting third year.
"Even though your door may be open, you are still unwilling to invite me in. Of course, I am curious to who you are, why your magic is so raw, but if you answer my questions when you are not ready, it'll only lead to regret." She said dreamily, "So, I am not going to pry for answers. At least not right now. They will come to me when the time is right."
Haewena climbed onto the girl's knuckles and leaned her head down slightly so that her feelers skimmed her fingers, as if bowing. Merlin repeated the gesture, inclining his head slightly at the third year. It wasn't often his feelings were respected and considered when it came to finding out his 'secret'. Most of the time his mystery was treated as a race to the finish line, or a detective mission.
Not that Merlin minded those methods though – in fact he found it rather amusing.
The girl leapt up gracefully and turned to open the compartment door.
"Wait," he found himself saying, "I don't even know your name,"
She turned around and fixed Merlin with those dreamy blue eyes, "Luna," she smiled, "Luna Lovegood."
The train ride to Hogwarts lasted hours – although that was nothing to Merlin. After all, he had spent 1400 years waiting.
He greeted patience as an old friend now.
When the train eventually stopped, he scurried off past the swarms of young witches and wizards, and into the Great Hall – at least that was his plan until he got side-tracked by the whomping willows and memories of young werewolves.
He wondered how Remus was now, (but that is another story for another time).
After his little detour, Merlin made his way over to the feast – a pathway that by now, he knew like the back of his hand. He opened the door at the side of the hall and strolled to an empty seat, plonking himself down with a sigh of content. He helped himself to a nearby bowl of grapes, plopping one into his mouth with a Pop!
Warm.
That could be the only word to describe the atmosphere.
Floating small flames flickered on candles, giving all the children a soft gold hue on their faces. The ceiling stood high and proud, yet there was something so cosy about it – something so homely. Four narrow tables striped down the hall, but even though the four houses were separate, there still seemed to be a natural unity between all of them.
United in magic.
Ah, what a wonderful thing magic is, Merlin thought.
Sitting to the left of Merlin was a huge, bushy-bearded man with kind eyes. Merlin looked into his aura and noted without a great deal of surprise that there was Giant magic entwined within the human blood. How his parents produced him in the first place with two vastly differently sized bodies was a question Merlin never wanted an answer to.
Sitting to the right of him was a tall, greasy-haired man. Merlin subtly reached into him with his magic, and found that, yes, he was shadowed, yes, he had darkness within him…but there were little shards of light, hidden away, kept in the dark so long that they had almost been forgotten. But there was hope for this man.
Said man looked at him with those empty ebony eyes…and sneered.
How rude, Merlin thought.
"You're late." The velvety voice spoke, pronouncing the end 't' very harshly.
"I am?" Merlin said – you couldn't blame him though – after all, the sun was his clock, and the sun was not always reliable. "Well, it's not my fault the clouds decided to be mischievous today, is it?"
The slimy figure sneered again, "You are the new History teacher, aren't you."
I'll be damned if this dude's Patronus isn't a snake. Or maybe it's a slug.
"Yes, I am in fact!" Merlin said, overly cheerily, "Malcolm Emrys – pleasure to meet you," he grinned, holding out his hand enthusiastically.
The slimy snake-man ignored the hand, nodding once instead, "Severus Snape, Potions Master."
Merlin looked down at his rejected hand and used his other hand to shake it.
Well, if this Snape guy isn't going to shake my hand, then I'll shake my own, thank you very much!
Snape turned away from Merlin, disturbed by his cheerfulness.
Merlin shrugged, twisting in his seat to greet the Giant-Man, but a sudden familiar pulling feeling stopped him.
Danger.
Pushing down the magic that had zoomed into his fingertips, he intensely studied the threat.
A man.
Sitting beside Dumbledore.
A war-torn leather jacket.
Shoulder length mousy hair.
A deep scar drawn down his face.
An eye patch which held a bulging fake eye – a magical eye.
Apart from that, everything else seemed so normal.
So why did the air feel so wrong?
Merlin studied the man's aura, and with a pool of dread growing in his stomach, he noted that there was a tight bindle of maroon aura wrapped in an abundance of purple. Like a cocoon.
But it was not a nice purple.
A sickly purple.
And the cocoon was more like a suffocating trap…
Merlin knew only one thing that was capable of doing this.
Polyjuice Potion.
He sighed mentally, deciding to leave involving himself in potential catastrophes for later – for now he would just enjoy the feast – it had been a while since he had had luxurious food, and he felt he deserved it (with his latest failure of an escapade to the penguins in Antarctica, he definitely deserved it).
With a jolt, Merlin realised that the sorting was about to start. A bundle of fidgeting first years were plonked a few metres from the teachers' table, all brimming with nervousness. Dumbledore stood abruptly but gracefully, taking a quick glance at Merlin to greet him with a smile in his eyes.
"Now, now young children, settle down, settle down," the headmaster said quietly, yet somehow every person in the room heard it. He briefly adjusted the hat on his white flowing hair.
Why does every old wizard have the same hairstyle? Merlin thought.
Maybe he modelled himself after Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. Or maybe even Santa… Or maybe even me?!
Shivering after this little revelation, Merlin tried to focus on Dumbledore's speech.
"-is out of bounds," he was saying, "unless you wish to have a permanent vacation to the other side of the veil." A few scared looks were exchanged.
"Now then," he announced, "with enormous pleasure, I would like to introduce you to our new History professor, Malcolm Emrys."
The sound of clapping resounded throughout the hall, and Merlin grinned at the knowing face of Luna, and the shocked ones of the Golden trio. With great glee, he noted that Crookshanks was looking as furry and squishy as ever.
He was also happy to see that Luna was a Ravenclaw. His prediction had been right, (not that they are ever wrong of course).
"I would also," Albus continued, "like to introduce our new sixth year transfer student, who is going to be joining us this year," he gestured to said student to make their way to the front.
"This, everyone, is Aithusa Whitesun."
Merlin choked on his grape.
Thanks to the reviewer to suggested I should make aithusa human - amazing ideaaa
*the name Haewena is inspired by the old english word for 'blue'