Merlin has always been the greatest wizard in history. However, he never taught his magic to anyone else; he buried his power along with his name. But what if he found the perfect student to teach? And what it was little Harry Potter?
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The Student of Merlin By SeraphZero
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Chapter 4: Magical Mystery Tour
"Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling." - Margaret B. Runbeck
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The sun rose, illuminating the dark sky with a cascade of crimson and golden light. The early birds began their morning rituals, cluttering the air with a cacophony of chirping and fluttering wings. Morning dew began to develop, as the chill of the night washed away under the blanket of growing warmth that the sun provided each and every morning. The end of the night, and the beginning of a new day; while ordinary for the rest of the world, the descent of the cold dark night to the illumination of the sun seemed fitting for the great event that was about to unfold for an 11-year-old boy with messy black hair and a lightning-shaped scar.
For today, today would be the day Harry Potter went to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It is questionable to say that nobody could've possibly been more excited as Harry...
"HARRY, PLEASE, THE TRAIN WILL NOT BE HEADING OUT FOR 4 MORE BLOODY HOURS! STOP MAKING A RACKET WITH YOUR BAGS AND GO BACK TO SLEEP!"
...but without a doubt, nobody could have been more cranky than the legendary Merlin that morning.
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While the excitement of a new frontier filled with his peers certainly excited the young wizard, Harry did not return to his slumber wholly due to that enthusiasm. The 11-year-old prodigy was far too young to not be disturbed by the haunting vision that appeared in his rest. He believed that nothing harmful occurred to his subconscious self, yet the feeling of such cold darkness still bothered him. Harry, rich in knowledge but poor in wisdom on the subject of omens, could only subside the matter and hope that answers would be revealed to him in due time. Patience, as his mentor constantly reinforced in the boy, was a powerful ally.
Curiousity, on the other hand, was a troublesome little bugger.
Harry laid his bags, well packed yet enchanted to be as light as clouds, on the stone ground of his cavern room and extracted from one of them his newly-acquired wand. He examined his new toy thoroughly, a look of amusement on his face as the concept of magic being harnassed within a simple piece of wood crossed his young mind. He looked hard at the wand, examining every intricate fiber of its craftsmanship in the hopes of unraveling what secrets laid inside.
A devilish thought crossed his mind at that point. Experience is the mother of all knowledge, thought Harry...
He waved the wand back and forth for a few moments before settling upon a singular wrist flick motion. Carefully kicking his bag aside to make room, the adventurous young mage positioned himself upright upon the bed, sitting cross-legged and staring directly at the small carpet that covered the cavern grounds. With a look of determination, Harry pointed the wand at the rug, a slight gleam appearing in his eyes at the mystery that lay behind casting his first wand-oriented spell.
Harry had grown accustomed to using hand motions, verbal commands, and even drawing seals to activate and harnass the incredible magical force that Merlin taught him. To focus all of his knowledge and potential power into a mere movement of a wooden object, he thought, should be no different.
His hand started to tremble a little in excitement. He focused, attempting his best to channel his magic through the wand as he held it in front of him and pointed towards the rug. With several deep breaths, Harry braced himself for whatever unimaginable possibilities could occur...for all he knew, the rug could come alive, or be teleported to New Zealand, or even transform into a giant dragon grave.
A slight shiver ran down Harry's spine at that thought.
Another deep breath, and the young mage was ready. Gulping down whatever fear he had left in him, he prepared himself for a bold new experience. He raised his wand, flicked it towards the rug...
FWOOM
...and promptly lit the rug on fire. A rather large fire, at that.
Harry blinked. Hard.
Why does it always have to be fire!
-----
Despite his protests to the ruckus that his favorite student was causing, Merlin himself could not go back to sleep.
Ignoring the sounds of water spells being cast in another room, the ageless wizard lay awake beside Nimue, staring at the cavern ceilings, peering into them with his mercurial eyes. Deep thought swirled within his mind in contemplation of the ensuing changes to come. He found it impossible to remotely relent his musings in exchange for pleasant slumber. For all his wisdom, understanding, and insightfulness, only one unyielding statement remained in his mental faculties.
His only student was going to have teachers.
...ok, so maybe he wasn't thinking all that deeply.
Nevertheless, Merlin pondered the possibilities that lay beyond the horizon for his pupil. New friends, adventures, and experiences were destined to be in Harry's grasp, yet no matter what, the ageless wizard could find no solice in the idea of new professors counseling his prodigy. Jealousy and doubt crept ever so slightly onto the fringes of the master magician's mind. He understood the irrationality behind feeling replaced in Harry's life by wizards who were weaker than he, yet their presence worried Merlin.
What if they're not good? What if their teachings are flawed? What if Harry is led astray? What if they prevent his from tapping into his full potential?
For a prophet who could peer into the misty shadows of the uncertain future, Merlin himself began to feel uncertain. No matter how much he assured himself of Harry's future welfare, the idea of leaving the boy unprepared for the ensuing tempests that would undoubtedly come to him was unbearable. Schooled in Hogwarts or not, Harry was still his student first and foremost.
A student with no real experience in interacting with other people. A student with a penchant towards setting things on fire. A student bearing both the fame and burden of defeating a dark wizard. A student who was still afraid of summoning because of one bad experience involving a reanimated dragon corpse. A student who was not ready to handle the great power that lay within him. A student destined to face hardships and enemies that no other boy should have to face in a lifetime.
Only a good teacher can lead his student through such tumultuous paths. And a teacher's most sacred duty is to never fail his student. No matter what.
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"Run the story over one more time, Harry."
A groan. "Do I have to?"
"Well, it's not like you're preoccupied at the moment."
"I think I'd consider breakfast as something that preoccupies."
"It doesn't preoccupy your vocal cords, Harry."
"Yesh ift duesh."
"HARRY! Don't eat with your mouth full!"
"Sorreth, momfth."
A sigh. "Harry, just once more, then you can go back to stuffing your mouth."
Some light chewing, followed by a gulp. "I was raised by a Muggle family just outside of Little Whinging, Surrey, in a small house completely isolated from the rest of the area. My parents' names were William and Mary Oswalt. I went to a private school and kept to myself, mostly, so therefore there is nobody in the area who could possibly recognize me."
A pause. "...William and Mary? Honestly, couldn't I have been raised by a couple with a more creative pair of names?"
If slight irritation could cause a sound, it would've been heard. "Your foster parents do not require any etymological significance whatsoever. What, did you want me to make an anagram out of 'Merlin and Nimue'?"
The sound of shrugging. "Just WHY are we doing this again?"
"Harry, how many times is my name mentioned in all your wizarding text books?"
"About 25 times per 2 books."
"And how many are you mentioned in?"
"About 50 times per 6 books."
Merlin crossed his arms and reclined on his chair at the breakfast table, small cracks of light pouring onto him in the magically lit dining room fo the cave. "I rest my case. Do you WANT the rest of the wizarding community to be on you? You'll have enough to deal with so long as you keep the name Harry Potter...though I still say you could've chosen a different surname and they'd be none the wiser."
Harry's face matured rapidly in a matter of seconds at the suggestion. His brow narrowed, a resolute and determined look falling over his 11-year-old visage. "I want to be a Potter."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You want to deal with the fame and scrutiny?"
The Boy Who Lived looked his mentor dead-on in the eyes, surprising the technically-ancient wizard. "...I want to honor my birthparents."
Silence fell upon the breakfast table. Merlin and Harry continued to stare off as Nimue quietly prodded into her eggs, head bent low.
Harry continued his gaze. "It's all I have left of them, fame be damned."
Nimue's head snapped up immediately. "HARRY! Watch you language at the table!"
In the blink of an eye, Harry's look of maturity crashed, the face of a young boy being chastised by his mother remaining in its wake. "Yes mum."
Merlin supressed a chuckle. The boy's getting older, but at least he's still a boy, thought Merlin. With the moment of silence averted, Merlin joined his family in their morning orchestra of chewing and swallowing.
Harry continued to down his eggs as if he spent his entire life starving in a cupboard under some stairs. A thought occurred to the lad after finishing off another sausage. "How come I never received a telegram from them? The headmasters, I mean."
Merlin took a sip of tea before addressing his pupil. "Well, we happen to be secured with magic seals strong enough to block off any and all detection, Harry. It also helps that our magics happen to be far too ancient to be detectable by the modern wizarding community."
Chew and swallow. "So if they can't send me an invitation, how did I get in? I mean, what if they kick me out for not ACTUALLY being picked for their school?"
Another sip. "It's an automated system, Harry. It's fairly easy for me to create an application and an invitation, even if they happen to be magically charmed." A wave of the hand, and POOF!
More chewing and swallowing. "Ah."
Merlin dropped the parchment pockmarked with the word "Hogwarts" on it. "And remember Harry, Rule 1."
Harry nodded in mid-chew. "Nefer thow or menshion anfing GULP that says 'Hey! Merlin's alive!'"
Merlin nodded. "And just what does that entail...?"
Harry's brow furrowed for a moment before reciting, as if practiced, "No use of wandless magic in public, no mentioning of tutelage, and above all else, play dumb." A pause. "Very dumb, if need be."
"Good boy."
The orchestra continued to play once again. Amidst the chorus, the sound of sniffing.
"You smell a little burnt, Harry."
-----
For the most powerful wizarding family in history, the leisurely walk was a sacred pasttime.
Rather than teleporting right next to King's Cross, the family unanimously, albeit silently, elected to appear further away from the train station, in yet another dark and unoccupied alleyway. While those areas proved to be far safer to magically appear in, it was the melange of alterior motives that led to the family's decision to stroll there.
For Harry, the sights of modern-day Britain, albeit limited to just a couple blocks, were too intriguingly new to avoid. For Merlin, the opportunity to converse with his pupil before sending him off bordered on being a necessity instead of a preferance. And for Nimue, the chance to enjoy being a family one last time, complete and whole, was unquestionably vital.
So they walked along the bustling streets of England, anonymous from the rest of the Muggle world. The sun continued to drown the country with its waves of warmth and light on the clear, chilly afternoon. The bags were packed and, for the sake of appearances, dragged along by Merlin and Harry (though not without at least a few lightness charms). The family wore their Sunday best for the occasion, or what could have been assumed to be their Sunday best, seeing as they never went to church and it was not a Sunday. Harry wore another handknit sweater made by Nimue and slacks and Nimue was in another conservative dress. Merlin, once again attempting to remain inconspicuous, donned a nice navy blue business suit. Much to the initial entertainment and ensuing chagrin of his family members, he matched the suit with a magical, albeit stereotypical, fake mustache, a monocle, a top hat, and a cane. Seeing his father in disguise reminded him of the man from the American game "Monopoly."
A car passed by them, drawing Harry's attention immediately. His eyes widened, their emerald irises glowing with awe. "A car! With a real combustion engine!"
Merlin smiled, wondering what kind of 11-year-old boy would actually make note of the "real combustion engine." "Yes Harry, that was a car. They're quite popular with the Muggles. Remember, though, contain your astonishment as much as possible when you get to Hogwarts. You grew up in a nice home with a nice family in Little Whinging. The Muggle world should seem commonplace in your experience."
Harry nodded his acknowledgement. His eyes betrayed him, however, as they danced from each car to each streetlamp and each building that existed on their path.
"BIG BEN!"
Merlin and Nimue chuckled as he pointed towards the famous clocktower. A thought quickly crossed Merlin's mind. He reached into his suit pocket and retrieved a small, heavy pouch. Tapping Harry's shoulder for his attention, Merlin gave his ward the pouch.
Without opening it, Harry looked to his mentor. "What's in the sack?"
Merlin looked around and lowered his voice. "50 Galleons. They're the most valuable currency in the wizarding world, but try not to spend it all. Frugality is a good thing to master, after all."
Harry nodded and, understanding the need for privacy on discussing wizard matters in the Muggle world, opted to peruse his monetary capacity later. Pcoketing the pouch, he began to wonder where a wizard living in a cave could have possibly procured such money. "Alchemy?"
Merlin quickly glanced at the boy and smiled. "Sharp mind, Harry."
"Won't people find out, though?"
Merlin continued to look around. "Just because they were produced by alchemy doesn't make them any less real, Harry."
Harry nodded, the sight of a VW Beetle suddenly drawing his attention back to the road.
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"What must you always remember, Harry?"
"Rule 1."
"What else?"
"Always be on my guard."
"Oh, come now Merlin, he's just going to school!"
"That doesn't mean he has to forsake his safety, Nimue."
"Safety? It's a SCHOOL, Merlin. What's he in danger of? Man-eating textbooks?"
"It's a WIZARDING school, Nimue. There are a lot more of those than you realize."
The trio arrived at their destination of King's Cross sooner than any of them wanted. They stood outside the train station as the mass of commuters and boarding school students entered and left the facility. Harry was eager to run inside and see what a real train station looked like, but Merlin pulled him back before he could burst through the doors (literally, too, given the speed of Harry's sprint towards the door).
Harry shuffled slightly out of anxiousness. "Couldn't we go inside and talk about this?"
Merlin shook his head. "I'm afraid, Harry, that I cannot go inside with you."
Nimue snapped her head at her husband in a mix of shock and anger. The anxiousness drained from Harry's small frame as he lowered his head. "Oh."
Merlin noticed the change in Harry's demeanor while attempting to ignore his wife's glare. "I'm afraid that entering this...Platform 9 and three-quarters...would mean risking any further exposure to the wizarding community. We can't have that, Harry. Your mother will accompany you through the station, but once you get to the platform," Merlin turned to his wife, a serious look on his face, "you must be alone."
Nimue rolled her eyes in exasperation at Merlin's response. "Oh come now, Merlin! We're seeing Harry off! Don't be so bloody paranoid!"
Harry, however, raised his head and nodded his assent. "No, mum, I understand."
Nimue's face dropped as her surrogate son accepted his surrogate father's abadonment. "What?"
Harry shrugged. "My parents were William and Mary Oswalt, people that nobody should have ever met. Best not to give them a face to remember, right Papa?"
Merlin smiled. "Smart boy."
Nimue shook her head with resolution. "No! We are going to go in there as a family and we are seeing you off as a family!" She turned to her husband. "Nothing bad will come out of you being in a public setting full of wizards!"
Merlin and Harry looked at each other, their eyes sharing the same memory: the Diagon Alley incident.
Nimue looked at the two men in her life, confused. "What? What's the matter?"
Merlin sighed, a small grin appearing across his face as the image of a giant on fire returned to his mind's eye. "It's nothing, Nimue."
Harry mirrored his mentor's grin, the sight of a burning Slytherin boy popping up in his head instead. "Nothing at all, mum."
Merlin's grin started to crack. "Nope, nothing, nada...snicker"
Harry's grin simply exploded. "BWAHAHA!"
Merlin joined his young protege in laughter while Nimue, confused beyond all reason, just stood there and watched the two most important men in her life cackle like idiots. Not knowing quite what to do, she simply sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "My family is full of bloody idiots."
-----
Merlin had little else to say to Harry other than "remember Rule 1" and "don't forget Rule 1." The Boy Who Lived thought that his teacher of 11 years would feel more emotionally conflicted over seeing his only pupil leave, but his expectations proved to be false. All he noticed was that Merlin had a glint in his eye, the kind of glint that always warned Harry that the ageless mage knew what he was doing and had far more planned than one would think. Any other boy would have felt slighted by such action, but Harry was not any other boy. Years of trust built between the two gave the 11-year-old a level of faith in the ancient wizard that was unwaivering. If Merlin had a reason for not worrying about leaving his student, then Harry surmised that he too should have good reason to not worry about leaving his teacher.
Nimue, however, was a different matter altogether. They entered the train station together, mother and son. She wanted to cherish these last few moments as much as possible. Together, they strolled through the station, bags in tow, looking around and marvelling at the modern world. They watched in awe as trains came and went, to and from the station, with steam fuming out and wheels churning. They shared in the curiousity and excitement of this alien world that Harry was going to be a part of, and Nimue wanted to follow for as long as she could.
At moments, Nimue looked at Harry, watching in admiration at the fine young man her son grew up to be. She relished the mental photographs of their gardening, Harry pigging out on her baked goods, Nimue admonishing him for setting something on fire. She began taking yet another set of mental photographs, this time of her only child embarking on his first steps towards truly growing up.
They will have to suffice until the summer, thought Nimue. She laughed a little to herself, unbeknownst to Harry. She found it silly to feel so overemotional. She prided herself on being a good mother, not the kind that becomes a wreck when her son is about to leave. Then again, when this is only son you've ever had after countless centuries of living in a cave with a rather depressed demi-god, overemotional seems forgiveable.
The two arrived at Platform 9 shortly. The lack of a Platform 9 and three-quarters confused the two, however.
Nimue looked around. "I don't see a Platform 9 and three-quarters. Are you sure the directions were correct, Harry?"
Harry furrowed his young brow, a habit he learned from his teacher. "Papa said that this might be the case."
"What case?"
Harry set his belongings down. "That the platform might be hidden from sight. After all, if it's a train for wizards, why would it be in plain sight for Muggles to get on it?"
Nimue smiled. "Yes, I suppose that would seem illogical."
Harry nodded. "It's 9 and three-quarters, so it's probably between Platforms 9 and 10. We can't use any spells to find it since somebody might see, so we're just going to have to sense it out."
Nimue was slightly surprised by this. "Oh? Has Merlin taught you that already?"
Harry shrugged. "Sorta. He said it wasn't something that you teach a wizard...it's more something that you make a wizard notice."
"Is it...easy for you?"
Another shrug. "After a while, yeah, it got pretty easy."
Harry focused his senses on the area between Platforms 9 and 10. The feeling of several magical signatures meant that he was on the right track: wizards were grouped around that area. He focused a little more, trying to peer through the walls and structures with his mind's eye.
The barrier between tracks 9 and 10 started to flicker in Harry's mind. Focusing further on it, he saw what he was looking for: another area altogether.
With pride, he turned to his mother. "Found it."
Nimue smiled. Centuries of being with Merlin, as well as personal experience in the field of magic, did not make Nimue ignorant to the workings of her wizard family. Unlike Harry, she knew exactly how significant it was for a wizard to sense magic. All wizards were capable of sensing magic, though the truth was that only the most powerful could consistently and easily do so. Even during Arthur's reign, there were very few wizards who were capable of sensing magic to the degree of everyday use. For Harry to find it easy when many wizards spent countless hours to correctly detect magic was astonishing.
For the sake of humility, she refrained from telling her son this fact. "Good job, Harry."
Harry smiled and jumped into a hug with his mother. "Thanks, mum. I gotta go though alone, though...papa's right about the cover story."
Nimue slowly dropped to one knee to properly reach Harry's height. Still hugging, Nimue stiffled any possible tears from streaming down her face.
For all his maturity and tutelage, Harry did the same.
Shared thoughts of playing with garden dirt and getting sick off of treacle fudge were silently occurring in their minds. Nimue, in trying to fill the void of silence, spoke up first. "Now you be good, ok? If anything bad happens, you get Archimedes to us and we'll be there no matter what, rain or snow or bloody hailstorms, ok?"
Harry nodded.
"Studies first, then have fun. Make friends, listen to your teachers, even if they aren't ancient, famous wizards. You were taught by the best, I expect you to be the best, ok?"
Another nod.
"Eat well. No midnight snacks, unless it's fruit. Don't pig out too much on cake and fudge. I'll make sure Merlin weighs you when you get back, ok?"
Another nod.
"And you make sure to write as much as possible. Just because you're away doesn't mean you stopped being my son, ok?"
Another nod.
For Harry, who was so eager to leave the nest of Merlin's Mound to explore the world, there were no words capable of encapsulating the emotion he felt for the woman who raised him, who took him in when his biological parents were murdered, who provided him the nurturing emotion to his mentor's stern reason, who ultimately was the reason for his adventure into Hogwarts in the first place.
He would return in the summer, of course, but the step he was about to take would change everything. His time in the forest as a bird, a chipmunk, any animal...they all taught him one very valuable thing: when you leave the nest, you can never truly return to it. These were ideas that were too complex for the 11-year-old boy to express, more complex than even Merlin's theories on the function of magic on the astral plane, and at that moment, he knew it. He knew, for all the intelligence and wisdom his teacher granted him, he was still an 11-year-old boy, and still too young to truly understand the bond between a mother and son.
His biological mother died to protect him, and his surrogate mother dedicated her life to raising him.
All he could do was hug the latter, and that's all Nimue needed.
-----
Nimue exited the station and met her husband right outside the door. The ageless wizard looked at his wife, expecting her eyes to be red and tear-soaked. He was slightly surprised by the self-control Nimue exhibited; historically, her emotions tended to get the better of her sometimes. It was the main reason why they functioned so well together: she tended to lean towards the emotional side of life, while he strayed further into the cynical, reason-dominated end of the spectrum.
The first reasonable idea that entered Merlin's mind was to hug his wife, which he did without hesitation.
Nimue returned the hug in earnest, glad to still have her love of the past few centuries still by her side.
She pulled away and looked at Merlin in his twinkling eyes. "He's going to be ok, isn't he?"
Merlin nodded.
"He's going to do great things."
Merlin smiled. "The greatest."
The oldest couple in wizard history shared a small kiss together. "We did a good job, didn't we?"
Merlin took his wife's arm. "The best any child can hope for."
Nimue nodded. "I hope so."
Merlin smirked. "I know so."
And so, with the trio trickling into a duo, the two began their sacred family pasttime towards the alleyway and back into life.
-----
Harry Potter was ready to begin his new life.
He just needed to figure out how to get there, first.
The barrier between the 9th and 10th tracks was clearly an illusion, he knew that much. He sensed it, he saw it, he knew without a doubt where his train was.
And yet, the thought of running into a wall still seemed a bit...unnerving.
Like any good student, he examined the wall first, testing it. He tried knocking on it, and when his knuckles made contact with pure wall, doubt creeped into the 11-year-old's mind. Sure, it's probably a precaution for any snoopy Muggles, thought Harry.
Still, the thought of becoming a Potter pancake was not entertaining, regardless of the amusing alliteration.
"Hurry up now! We're going to be late!"
Harry turned around as a red-haired family approached him at full speed. He focused a tad to feel for a magic aura, and when his senses confirmed the existence of such magic, he smiled. He was about to meet another wizard family!
The family itself consisted of a pair of twins, an older looking boy who had a certain air of pretense around him, a meek boy around Harry's age, a girl who looked younger than the rest, and undoubtedly the mother, a large woman bustling her children by with an immense carriage of luggage.
"Ok now, Percy, you first!"
The older boy took his luggage and ran without hesitation into the barrier. Though startled, Harry felt relieved to see that his theory about the wall was correct.
The mother turned to one of the twins. "Fred, you're next."
The twin turned to his mother, indignant. "He's not Fred! I am!"
The other twin mirrored his brother's sentiment. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother"
Exasperated, the mother apologized. "I'm sorry, George."
The first twin snickered. "Only joking! I'm Fred."
Harry chuckled a little as the twins ran through. Deciding not to wait any longer, he took his luggage and made a mad dash through the barrier.
-----
The feeling of running through the wall was surreal for Harry. The sight before him sanctified the emotion perfectly.
In front of his stood a beautiful train, marked carefully for Platform 9 and three-quarters. All around him were magical signatures, children his own age all ready to leave home for Hogwarts. The thrill returned to Harry's senses despite never leaving.
FWOMP
The feeling of pain as luggage slammed into him from the back joined the thrill.
"RONALD WEASLEY! APOLOGIZE TO THAT BOY!"
"Sorry, mate."
Pushed over but not onto the ground, Harry recomposed himself before turning around to greet his attacker. It was the boy who looked to be around his age, a gangly-tall child with red hair and a somewhat meek demeanor. Harry smiled.
"No worries at all! It's nice to meet you."
The boy named Ron nodded before dragging himself towards his brothers.
Harry's smile faded a little when the boy didn't return his sentiments. Harry reminded himself that not all schoolchildren were going to be nearly as enthusiastic about meeting their peers as he was. After all, most children never grew up secluded in a cave with an ancient wizard.
"Is this your first time, dear?"
Harry snapped out of his reverie to see the mother and daughter. He deduced that the mother had to be Mrs. Weasley, given how she addressed the boy named Ron.
Harry's smile perked up. "Yes it is, and I'm afraid I'm alone for it."
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "It's Ron's first time to Hogwarts as well. I'm Mrs. Weasley and this is Ginny."
Harry's heart soared at the introduction. At least this time I got to the names, thought Harry, as his mind quickly remembered the first person he met outside of Merlin's Mound, and how quickly that ended.
"I'm Harry!"
Mrs. Weasley and the girl, Ginny, waited, as if expecting Harry to finish.
Slight hesitancy grabbed Harry. He knew this was going to happen. Taking a quick breath, he mentally prepared himself. "Harry Potter."
Mrs. Weasley's eyes went wide. So did Ginny's, though hers were less visible as she quickly ducked behind her mother, blushing terribly.
Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was to be expected from every introduction he makes.
"My goodness...THE Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived!"
Harry nodded. "Yep, that's...I guess that's me."
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Well it's so nice to meet you! Well, you enjoy Hogwarts, ok? And make sure to eat well!" With that, Mrs. Weasley left to her boys, Ginny in tow.
Harry adjusted his silver spectacles. Eat well? What, was this the universal advice of every wizard mother on the planet?
-----
Merlin and Nimue returned to the mound in somber silence. At least, such was the case on Nimue's side. Merlin, however, seemed to be in deep contemplation.
Nimue sighed. "I guess I'll go change and start preparing dinner..."
Absentmindedly, instead of returning to her room, she found herself wandering into Harry's room, slowly attempting to accept the fact that her son was gone.
Merlin looked at his distraught wife with melancholy. There was nothing he could do to rectify the situation, and what he was about to do would probably make it worse. Still, he knew what he had to do, and no amount of sentiment would make him waiver.
"Mmm, I'm going to go out for a bit."
Depression turned into surprise for Nimue. "Out? Now? Since when do you go out?"
Merlin shrugged. "Since now, I guess."
Nimue gave her ageless husband a skeptical look. "Oh? And what will you be doing while you're 'out'?"
Merlin smiled. "That, my dear, is a secret."
Without any time for explanation, Merlin disappeared from the cave, leaving a very confused and slightly irritated Nimue. Thankfully, her irritation became overwhelmed by the confusion once she caught sight of a rather burned, damp rug in the room.
-----
Thanks to the lightness, Harry found it immensely easy to force his luggage into the compartment. He sat down in his seat, absorbing everything his senses picked up, from the sound of the train gliding quickly through the rails the sight of the sunlight beaming down through the window. He watched as the outside passed him by with great speed, the emeralds and azures of the outside world melting together through the scope of the window.
"Excuse me, do you mind? Every where else is full."
Harry looked back to see Ron, the boy from the station. The Boy Who Lived smiled.
"Not at all!"
Ron nodded and sat across from the smiling Harry Potter.
"So, um, I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."
Harry extended his hand for a handshake.
"Harry Potter."
A look of awe immediately plastered itself over Ron's initial look of timidity. As Ron shook his hand, he continued to gape at Harry. "So it's true then! Does that mean you have...you have the..."
It took a moment for Harry to realize what Ron could possibly be referring to. Releasing his hand from the handshake, he brushed the right side of his messy black hair back, revealing the infamous lightning-shaped scar.
Ron continued to look dumbstruck. "Wicked."
Harry snickered. "You're telling me."
"Anything off the trolley?"
Both boys turned their heads towards the doorway. Their eyes collectively widened at the sight of a vending cart full of candy. A cornucopia of colors, shapes, and scents assaulted the two boys. Ron's face crashed into sullenness as he remembered his lack of funds for such treats. Unhampered by such limitations, Harry stared at the candy cart with a smile. New experiences, indeed.
"I'll take one of everything."
Ron turned up and looked at Harry, eyes bulging at the immensity of the order.
Harry turned to meet Ron's gaze and, forgoing the virtue of frugality his mentor promoted, turned to the cart vendor.
"You know what? I think I'll just take the whole lot."
-----
"Oh, Merlin's beard, I'm going to be sick."
Harry didn't know whether or not to feel pity for his new friend's plight, amused at the mention of his teacher's name, or nauseated by the sheer volume of Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pastries and Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans they just consumed. In retrospect, the fact that they consumed every possible flavor without fail, from boogers to chili pepper, may have contributed to the nausea.
Harry began rifling through the Chocolate Frog cards. He was fascinated by the use of magic on the cards. Sure, it wasn't the kind of magic that caused the earth to swallow monsters whole, but it was still impressive to Harry, and far more amusing.
Ron groaned a little. "I've got about 500 of those cards myself."
Harry smirked as he looked at the card in his hand. It was of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of his new school. It was amusing to see Dumbledore actually leave the frame of the card, and interesting to read about Flamel, the alchemist whom Harry remembered as being responsible for the Philosopher's Stone (or Sorcerer's Stone, depending on who you ask).
Ron noticed the Dumbledore card. "I have about 6 of those myself."
Harry smirked. "Do they have a Merlin card?"
-----
Far above the train flew perhaps one of the most beautiful birds that ever lived. The fact that it was immense in size and had a passenger aboard its back went unnoticed to the rare few who saw it fly overhead.
"Don't fly too close to the train, Zephyr. We're simply following it to get to Hogwarts, nothing more"
Zephyr, unable to look at his master, simply cawed.
Merlin looked down at the giant bird he was riding. "What? I'm not being overprotective. No, not at all. Overprotective is certainly not on the agenda."
Zephyr cawed once again.
"I'm just looking out for Harry's interests, that's all. Nothing more. Just making sure he's in good hands, Zephyr. Good hands."
More cawing.
"I'm not SPYING on Harry. Spying requires constant surveillance. I'm just going to ensure that he can get in touch of me, in case he, you know, ever needs me."
Another caw.
"Of course I know he can take care of himself. I'm not worried about that. No, not at all. He's perfectly capable of handling himself. Perfectly capable."
A louder caw.
"I AM letting him go! I agreed to let him go to boarding school, didn't I? It's not like I changed my mind and suddenly want to take him back! I just need to make a quick visit there, that's all."
Yes, more cawing.
"Oh, just fly me there already! I don't need parenting advice from a giant bird."
A prolonged caw.
"Really? 6 of them?"
One more caw!
"No, you're right, eventually you do have to let them fly by th-STOP GIVING ME ADVICE!"
-----
"This...is Scabbers."
Harry looked at the rat peculiarly.
"Pathetic, isn't he?"
Ron pulled out his pet rat to entertain his new friend. The way Harry looked at the rat, entertainment was certainly not provided.
Harry focused deeply on the rat. There was a strange magical signature on Scabbers that he did not think was natural of pet rats. He focused hard on the creature, attempting to penetrate its veil with his mind's eye.
Surprising them both, the rat freaked out and promptly bolted out of the carriage.
"Bloody...! Fred game me a spell that would turn him yellow too! I wanted to show you."
Harry looked towards the direction that Scabbers left. He could not immediately identify what was wrong with the rat, but seeing as how the creature fled before he could probably examine it, Harry relinquished uncovering the mystery in exchange for talking to Ron.
Still, the feeling was there.
Shrugging it off, he turned to his new friend. "I'd suggest just letting that thing go."
Ron looked surprised. "What? I can't just do that...it's a family pet!"
Harry relaxed in his seat. "Then it'll come back to the family when it's ready. Just...just trust me, don't make too big of a deal about Scabbers running away."
Ron nodded his agreement, not just to Harry's suggestion, but at the very least so he didn't have to keep a pet rat around anymore.
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has one."
Amused at the theme of voices simply coming and going, Harry and Ron turned to address their visitor. In their sights stood a girl with bushy brown hair and front teeth a little too big. She held a book in her arms, which instantly brought a smile to Harry's face.
Ron shook his head. "Nope, no toads around here."
The girl scrunched her face in thought. "Well then, thanks for your help."
"What book is that?"
Both Ron and the girl looked at Harry, who seemed interested in the book at hand.
The girl looked down at the large tome in her arms. "Oh, it's called 'Hogwarts: A History'"
Harry smirked. "Good book, a bit dry, but nonetheless insightful."
The girl's eyes widened at the assessment. "Really? I thought so too, well, except for the dry part, I find it all very fascinating, especially the accounts made during wartime!"
Ron rolled his eyes. Harry, however, found the discovery of someone who enjoyed reading to be delightful. Given the fact that most of his life was spent studying tomes on magic, the thought of actually discussing it with somebody his own age made his eyes twinkle.
"I'll concede the point about wartime, but honestly, it does tend to get dry, particularly on the details about the Founders, which I thought would make a fascinating read."
The bushy-haired girl sat down immediately, the thoughts of finding toads forgotten for the moment. "I thought so too! I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger. There was this chapter on the Founders though that I thought was particularly useful for in-depth details on their origins..."
Ron groaned. It was going to be a looong train ride.
-----
Giant birds, it seems, travel faster than trains. Amidst the setting sun, Merlin and Zephyr crossed the glittered waters surrounding Hogwarts, gliding on a current of wind over the school. They approached it warily, making sure to be far enough to appear simply as another bird but close enough to see inside each window with relative ease.
Merlin stared at the castle in contemplation. "Mmm...just as I thought. Protective seals all over the place. Safe from most frontal assaults and standard magical attacks. Apparition is completely blocked off, which means long-range teleportation would not have worked. I suspected as much."
Zephyr cawed as his master.
"Long-range, Zephyr. Concentrated teleportation, in a short distance and with complete focus on where you're going, however, can bypass such protections."
Zephyr nodded, or at least made a motion resembling nodding. He was a bird, after all.
"Mmm, don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing...just fly me in close, old friend. I need to find a certain magical signature, then you can be on your way."
-----
"First years this way, please! First years, don't be shy. Come on now, hurry up!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled through the crowds as the First Years exited the train in a rather unorderly pile.
Rubeus Hagrid continued to ring his bell, vainly attempting to maintain some semblance of order amidst the 11-year-olds. He squinted when he caught a mess of jet-black hair and silver spectacles rushing through the crowd. "Harry?"
Hagrid stared in astonishment as the Boy Who Lived, the boy he allowed to be stolen, ran past him. Before his shock could register into pure elation, Harry rushed through the crowds, eager to reach the head of the line and move one step closer to Hogwarts.
-----
"No, no, that probably won't do..."
Albus Dumbledore crossed out yet another sentence from his parchment. Every year he addressed the new class of Hogwarts with a new speech, and he wanted this year's to be as unique as all the others. The oxymoron aside, it was not the speech that made Dumbledore fidget, but rather, the knowledge that a certain Boy Who Lived would be in attendance.
The old headmaster contained his excitement well, and once again returned to his work, popping a Bernie Bott Bean into his mouth. His mouth twisted in disgust as the taste of sushi entered his mouth.
And then he felt it.
A rush of magic caused goosebumps all over the Dumbledore. His eyes widened, shock actually setting in for the first time in many years. He slowly lifted his eyes from his parchment.
There, standing in front of the old headmaster, stood a young man possessing an aura of intimidating magical power. For a record-setting second time in a week, Albus Dumbledore was in complete surprise.
Merlin smiled. "Hello, Professor. Or should I address you as Headmaster?"
-----
For Harry Potter, no amount of reading or preparation could deter the sight. He sat, his robes new and fresh on his person, with the boat lit only by lantern, as it waded itself through the murkey waters. He squinted hard as he attempted to find it before anybody else did, and solely through the luck of simply being the Boy Who Lived, he found it first.
Beyond the horizon, it stood there, a sentinel of glittering lights and skyscraping monuments amidst a misty sea of darkness. A castle as fantastic as the ones he used to dream of when reading of his teacher's exploits during the Age of Magic, the times of Arthur and Camelot and wizards throughout the land. The feeling of hundreds of magic auras flittered toward Harry's mind, his senses absorbing every sight and sound available as the small boat approached its destination.
The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
-----
NEXT TIME: Sorting Song
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Author's Note:
I owe all of you an apology.
For the longest time, I wanted to write. That time has yet to end.
But instead of writing, I found myself getting dragged along by life, with so many other distractions and passions and dedications around me.
But I never abandonned this story in the sense of ever quitting. I abadonned it in the sense of being too afraid to write.
I have all these ideas in my head that I feel I will never do justice to them. That isn't to say that I think I'm brilliant or anything...I just don't know if I'm worth the 200-odd reviews of positive affirmations you've all given me. And yet, those are what compelled me to keep trying, even though I'm deathly afraid of failing...not necessarily to you the reader, but to the story itself, and the beauty of human complexity even in the face of such fantastic settings and premises.
For that, I'm sorry.
With that out of the way...what I would like to do is get at least a chapter a month done despite my busy work schedule, and at least 40 kbs per chapter. My major problem is that I work best (if at all) under pressure...all these chapters were written very late at night, and all my creative writing only gets done when my professor sets a deadline for my sake in my writing workshops (yes, it's that bad). Anybody interested in helping me out can IM me at SeraphZero00 (rare) or email me at for a job...details to be announced. All I ask is that you send me a small list of your favorite stories so I can read them and get a feel for whether or not your style/taste/criticism would be constructive for me. I appreciate anybody who'd be up for the task.
And once again, thank you for the reviews. A writer should never function because he/she gets so many reviews, but the honest truth is, the 200+ ones I received caused enough guilt for me to deal with my low self-esteem continue this thing. I love writing, but it causes endless heartburn for a guy who's not that good with words.
Thank you all for reading...let's hope the next chapter gets done in under a year. :-P
P.S. Keep in mind that everytime I update with a new chapter, I probably went back and cleaned up all the other chapters as well. Nothing significant...just some minor detail corrections, grammar mistakes, etc., but still worth noting for those of you who are like me and like to save stories on hard drive for those late nights.
Email: AIM: SeraphZero00