Title: Harry Potter and the Return of Merlin
Fandom: Merlin/Harry Potter Crossover
Rating: T for slight violence and language
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione...or at least the precursors to the relationships
Spoilers: HP - definitely through the end of OotP, since Merlin is supposed to know more than most, there may be other spoilers as well. Merlin - through the end of season 3 because I haven't had a chance to watch season 4, so I can't spoil it, lol.
Warnings: AU. Slight Violence and language.
Beta: the wonderful animeloveramy. I don't know what I'd do without her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Merlin. They belong to J.K. Rowling and BBC respectively. They have simply been kind enough to allow dreamers like me to indulge in fantasies involving their characters. Some of the text is directly from, very close to, or inspired by what J.K. Rowling originally wrote. This is simply because this fic closely follows OotP and I see no reason to pretend that I'm better than J.K. Rowling and try to rewrite it. I will try to leave an AN at the bottom when I use large amounts of the text.
Summary: When Voldemort used a spell of the old religion to regain his body, he gives Merlin the reason he needed to step out of the shadows. Disguised as a fifth year student, he goes to Hogwarts to watch over Harry and do what he can in the war to come.
Author's Note: OH MY FREAKING GOD! I HAVE OVER A HUNDRED REVIEWS ON THIS FIC! *breaths* Sorry. I'm calm now.
Seriously though, this is my most popular fic to date and you have no idea how happy that makes me. I have over a hundred reviews, favorites, and alerts. That has never happened before. None of my longer/completed fics have that gained this kind of a following. Thank you all soooo much.
FYI, I answered a couple of anonymous reviews at the end of the chapter and don't forget to vote in the new poll and let me know what you want to read next.
Chapter 6
The wards were a far bigger mess than Merlin had anticipated. They'd been layered over each other with no regard for the condition of the previous ward. Some had failed or had altered in composition. It had been an ordeal separating them and figuring out if they were worth keeping. Eventually, he'd ended up getting rid of ninety-percent of the wards and reconstructing them from scratch. It had taken most of the afternoon and left him almost completely exhausted.
Which had been his intention. Given the way his temper and his magic had reacted during their first class, he hadn't been sure that he could control himself during a detention with the toad. Merlin was hoping that if he was exhausted, he wouldn't have to worry about accidentally turning Umbridge into a real toad.
He met Harry outside her office door. The teen looked like he would rather face another dragon than go inside.
"Not looking forward to this?" guessed Merlin.
"You have no idea," grumbled Harry. "Angelina's going to kill me. I've got detention during keeper tryouts. She's furious and she wants me to ask Umbridge to let me out for the tryouts."
Merlin winced. There had been a couple of times when Arthur had been annoyed at him for missing something because he'd been obligated to be elsewhere for his duties as a warlock. It was never pretty.
"I wouldn't ask. She won't take it well if you do. You'll just have to tell Angelina that there's no way you can be there."
Harry nodded miserably.
"We should just get this over with," Merlin sighed.
Harry nodded and knocked once on the door.
"Come in!" called a sugary sweet voice.
Merlin and Harry exchanged resigned looks before reluctantly pushing open the door and walking inside.
What in the name of Avalon? I think I'm in hell!
The office was pink. Very, very pink. The kind of pink that looked like it was trying to seem youthful and was succeeding only in looking rather sick. Vases filled with dried flowers, each with its own lacy doily, sat on almost every available surface. The walls were covered in decorated plates that housed large, brilliantly colored kittens that had lurid bows tied around their necks. They frisked across the porcelain surfaces.
Nothing Morgause or Mordred ever did to me even comes close to this torture, he thought dryly. This is absolutely horrid.
I'm sure you're exaggerating, Kilgharrah chuckled from his perch back in the fifth year boys dorm. Given the way that Umbridge had reacted to Kilgharrah's presence at the trial, they'd both thought it best that he remain out of sight during the detention.
Are you so sure? asked Merlin, sending Kilgharrah a mental picture of the room.
Ah, perhaps you are more correct than I originally thought. Good luck, young warlock.
Thanks, Merlin grumbled.
"Hem, hem."
Merlin turned at the sound of the would-be polite cough. As he did, he noticed that Harry had a similarly disgusted look on his face. He fixed an emotionless look on his face as he turned to Umbridge, the toad herself surrounded by kittens. She was wearing a horrendous set of patterned robes that all but blended in with the tablecloth draped over her desk.
She smiled sweetly. "Good evening, Mr. Potter. Mr. Lyonnesse."
"Evening," Harry replied stiffly.
Merlin inclined his head slightly. "Professor."
"Take a seat," she said, pointing to a small table covered in a lacy table cloth. Two pieces of parchment lay in front of two, uncomfortable looking chairs.
Merlin took his seat without a word. After a moment's hesitation, Harry followed.
"This," Umbridge began once they were seated, "is your punishment for telling nasty attention-seeking lies," her eyes rested on Harry for a moment before looking to Merlin, "and speaking against the Ministry. You will be attending detention for the remainder of the week, at five o'clock sharp."
"Excuse me, professor," interrupted Merlin, "but I was under the impression that this was my only detention."
"Oh, no, Mr. Lyonnesse," she smiled. "You will be here for the entire week. Do you understand?"
Merlin nodded slightly. "Of course, Professor. Forgive my misunderstanding."
That tripped Umbridge up a bit. If Merlin had learned anything from watching Arthur blow up at people, it was that you really did attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. He'd discovered that politeness could be quite disarming.
She quickly masked her surprise by smiling. "It seems you've already learned to control your temper. Very good. Now, you're going to be writing lines for me. Not with your quill, Mr. Potter," she added when Harry reached down reflexively for his bag. "I have a very special one that you'll be using."
Turning to her desk, she produced two long black quills with strangely sharp points that glinted in the candle light.
Merlin's eyes narrowed. He'd seen that kind of quill before, he just couldn't place it. The quill tingled in his fingers as he took it from Umbridge, as though there was magic in it that didn't sit well with his own power.
"You will write I must not tell lies," Umbridge told them.
"How many times?" asked Harry through gritted teeth.
Umbridge's smile widened creepily. "Until the message sinks in."
The wording gave Merlin pause. He didn't like the sound of that. Gazing at the quill, he twirled it slowly in his fingers. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. Over the years, he had seen so many magical artifacts, that they all blended together.
"You haven't given us any ink," said Harry.
"It won't be necessary."
Merlin looked up at Umbridge sharply and then back down at the quill in his hands. He quickly ceased his examination of the quill and set it to the parchment to begin his lines.
Harry drew in a pained breath. Merlin glanced over at him concernedly. Words glistened on the parchment in dark red ink. Only it wasn't ink. It was blood. Harry was staring at his hand in horror. The very same words that gleamed on the parchment were etched into the back of his hand.
It's a blood quill, Merlin realized. Despite how tired he was and how much power he had expended on the wards, he magic roiled within him and it was all he could do to keep it under control. Even then the plates rattled slightly against the walls. She's using a damn blood quill on us.
That woman is quite lucky that I am not there, growled Kilgharrah in the back of Merlin's mind. She wouldn't be walking out of that office.
At the rate things are going, I won't let her walk out of her unscathed.
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Umbridge asked, a lilt to her words that dared them to complain. Merlin exchanged a look with Harry. Through wordless communication, they agreed to say nothing. It would only mean that she had won.
Merlin looked down at his parchment and quickly wrote I must not tell lies. He bit back a hiss of pain as the words appeared in his elegant script on the back of his hand. He quickly did the math in his head. By the time Umbridge let them out of detention, the back of his hand would be completely raw. By the end of the week, he wouldn't be surprised if the cut didn't heal over.
"Diffrwyth," he breathed.
He immediately felt that back of his hand go numb. Another line proved that the spell had indeed worked. Merlin didn't feel the words being etched into his skin.
Discreetly, he reached under the table and gently laid a hand on Harry's leg, muttering the spell again, just as Harry wrote another line. Merlin quickly cast the silencing charm and whispered,
"Write slowly. The spell only numbs the pain. It doesn't erase the damage. I'll explain later."
Harry nodded and kept writing a pace that would be believable for someone who was carving their hand open. Merlin did the same and removed the silencing charm so that Umbridge wouldn't become suspicious.
It went on for hours. Every once in a while, Merlin felt a twinge through the numbing spell. His own blood glistened at him from the parchment. The blood quill had been invented for signing contracts and other such actions that required blood so that those involved didn't have to slice themselves open with a dagger. They had not been designed for this. But, just as with so many spells and magical objects throughout the centuries, it's true purpose had been perverted.
Darkness fell outside, but neither Merlin nor Harry asked after the time. They just continued scratching away at the parchment. But Merlin knew that they had been there far longer than any normal detention.
She cannot keep you there any longer, growled Kilgharrah. I'm going to Dumbledore.
No. Don't. She can't know about our connection to the Headmaster. If we interfere now, it will only force the Ministry to take further action. We need to sit it out.
This cannot be allowed to continue.
I know that. But neither can we take an overt stand against her.
There was a silence, during which Merlin could practically picture Kilgharrah's eyes narrowing. You have a plan, do you not?
Half of one, at least. I'll discuss it with you later. I believe the detention may be coming to an end.
"Come here," Umbridge said from the front of the room.
Harry glanced over at Myrddin. He seemed unnaturally calm, though there was a look of pained concentration in his eyes. As they stood, Myrddin leaned over and whispered under the cover of the chairs scraping across the floor, "I'm going to remove the spell. It might hurt a little, but I don't want her to be suspicious."
Harry nodded his understanding and braced himself for the discomfort that flared across his hand. He grit his teeth against it. Myrddin shot him an encouraging look and the two of them walked up to Umbridge's desk.
"Hand," she ordered.
Harry did as she asked, suppressing the urge to flinch violently when she grabbed his wrist with her stubby, ring-covered fingers so that she could examine his hand. The skin was red and irritated where the words had appeared. Satisfied, she took Myrddin's hand and did the same.
"Well," she tutted, "it seems I haven't quite managed to make an impression. We'll just have to try again tomorrow night. On your way, gentlemen."
Biting his tongue against the smart remark he'd like to have made, Harry threw his bag over his shoulder and hurried out the room, followed closely by Myrddin. The halls were deserted. It had to be after midnight.
"Are teachers allowed to keep us so long for a detention?" asked Myrddin.
"Not usually," Harry sighed. "But I doubt there is anything they can do to stop Umbridge."
"Well, that's just brilliant."
"That it is," grumbled Harry.
They fell into a tired silence and Harry's thoughts turned once more to the strange things he'd noticed about Myrddin's behavior. He'd seemed so calm in Umbridge's office, as though he was completely unaffected by her presence. His reaction to the quill when they'd realized that it cut into their skin was just as strange. Harry had practically felt the anger rolling off of Myrddin. He'd felt magic crackling through the air. It was amazing that Umbridge hadn't noticed anything.
Then there was the numbing spell Myrddin had used to make it a bit easier to get through the detention. Harry had just barely heard the incantation Myrddin had used, but it had sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. And Myrddin hadn't used a wand. Just touching Harry had been enough.
"How did you cast that numbing spell?" he asked shrewdly.
"It's nothing. Just something I picked up during my travels with my parents before they died," Myrddin replied. "It's a foreign spell. I'm not sure what the origin of it is. A healer I met once used it."
"But you performed it wandlessly."
Myrddin shrugged. "That's actually nothing special. The way I understand it, the spell is meant to be performed wandlessly."
Of course, Harry sighed. He has an explanation for everything. I wonder if that's because he's telling the truth or because he's got a story figured out. I wish I could figure out what he's hiding.
He watched Myrddin discretely as they made their way to the common room. If he hadn't been looking for something, he'd have never noticed Myrddin subconsciously rubbed the back of his hand, as though to sooth the irritated skin. A faint glow was left behind and the redness was gone. Harry stared. He hadn't even used a spell.
Who is he?
Harry was still asking himself that question when he collapsed onto his bed. His homework could wait until first thing in the morning.
The moment Harry disappeared behind the curtains of his bed, Kilgharrah swopped down from the rafters and landed on Merlin's bed. Sighing, Merlin pulled his curtains closed and cast a powerful silencing charm.
"How could you sit there and let that...that toad do that to you and Harry?" Kilgharrah hissed.
Merlin glared at him. "What choice did I have, Kilgharrah? I would have succeeded only in making her angrier. There was nothing I could do unless I wanted to play my hand. I have to chose my battles here."
"And this is one that you should have fought," the dragon hissed.
"What would it have accomplished?" demanded Merlin. "If I wanted to avoid getting into further trouble for mouthing off, I would have been forced to reveal that fact that I am bloody Merlin. That would have been all over the wizarding world within a few hours. I'd have lost what little advantage I have. I will do something about Umbrdige, believe that, Kilgharrah. But I will do it by sneaking around, just as I once did in Camelot."
Kilgharrah let out a sigh and regarded Merlin coolly with amber eyes. "No matter how much I may not like the situation, I see your logic, young warlock. What do you plan to do?"
"I need to find a way to alter the effects of the blood quill," he said tiredly. "I have a couple of ideas. The complicated bit is mimicking the effects of the quill without arousing Umbridge's suspicion and finding a way to pass it along to the others who will inevitably end up in detention with her. It's a lot to think about."
"I am not sure that it can be done as you describe, young warlock." Kilgharrah sighed. "Not without making Umbridge suspicious."
"Thank you for pointing that out," Merlin grumbled. "Avalon! I feel more helpless now than I ever did in Camelot."
Over the next few days, Merlin came to the conclusion that, no matter how dire things seemed to be for him, he had it marginally better than Harry. Accustomed as he was to operating on short sleep - a habit that had followed him from his days as a manservant and later as court sorcerer - Merlin had not only been able to rise early and finish his work, but he had later been able to pay attention in his classes. Not that he really needed to. He already knew everything they were going over.
Harry had no such advantage. He labored through his work as best he could. He often skipped breakfast to scribble down something for the homework he'd neglected during detention. That homework got suitably poor marks which inevitably resulted in yet more homework. Merlin saw him struggling to stay awake in classes and his practical work failed without the necessary concentration and practice. On top of that, Harry had to deal with a very irate Angelina, who was still peeved that he was missing Quidditch tryouts and taking every chance to remind him of it, and he was still having recurring nightmare. Merlin often heard Harry waking in the night. The other boys either slept like the dead or Harry had put a silencing charm on his curtains that Merlin was managing to hear through, because no one else seemed to have noticed.
The only thing that made the situation less horrible was the fact that Merlin had been able to come up with a plan to deal with the effects of the blood quill. He fashioned a simple leather cuff similar to the one he usually wore and enchanted them both with a variation of the numbing spell that would activate only in the presence of the magic that fueled the quill, a healing charm that would enhance the natural healing process used when the blood quill cut into the skin, and a glamor that would approximate the damage done. This would ensure that the damage done by using the quill for extending periods of time would be minimal and that the lingering discomfort would not effect them later.
Merlin had given the bracelet to Harry saying that Kilgarrah had helped greatly with the spellwork and with the idea in the first place. He wasn't entirely sure that Harry had believed him, but he had taken the bracelet and worn it during their next detention. Merlin was relieved to find that the bracelets worked perfectly and Umbridge was none the wiser.
The solution was also satisfactory to Kilgharrah for the time being, something for which Merlin was intensely grateful. Despite being the size of kneazle, Kilgharrah was downright frightening when he was displeased. As it was, Merlin had to put up with the dragon's grumbling every time he came within twenty paces of Umbridge. It was beginning to drive Merlin mad.
He and Harry were currently trekking back to their dormitory after their second to last detention. In Merlin's opinion, that last detention couldn't come fast enough. Harry was practically drooping with exhaustion, but he was refusing to admit it to himself or to anyone else. Merlin sighed.
Would it be ill advised to knock him out, drag him to the hospital wing, and bribe Madam Pomfrey to keep him there for a couple of days?
Kilgharrah snorted. Though he undoubtably needs the rest, I doubt Harry would thank you for the interference. It is good that this ordeal is almost at an end. I do not think he could take the pressure much longer.
That will only happen if Umbridge doesn't manage to goad Harry into mouthing off to her again.
Kilgharrah mentally grimaced. Due to all the pressure he was under - and a certain connection to Voldemort that Dumbledore was stubbornly refusing to explain to anyone - Harry was operating on a very short temper. It was only a matter of time before he got into trouble with Umbridge again.
"Ron?"
Harry stopped short as he rounded the corner, just a step in front of Merlin, to avoid ploughing into Ron, who had just stepped cautiously out from behind a statue, clutching his broom, which he quickly tried to hide behind his back.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously.
"Nothing," Ron said quickly, though Merlin noticed that his ears had turned red as they were wont to do when he was embarrassed. It was something Merlin had noticed was common to the Weasley family.
"Come on, you can tell me," Harry frowned. "What are you hiding here for?"
"I'm - well, I'm hiding from Fred and Geroge. They came by with a bunch of first years. I bet they're testing stuff again. I mean, they can't do it in the common room with Hermione around, can they?"
He was talking very fast and seemed distinctly nervous.
"Do you often lurk in the halls after hours with a broom?" asked Merlin.
Ron reddened further.
"You haven't been flying, have you?" Harry asked.
"I - well - well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?" Ron said defensively, turning redder with every passing second. "I - I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."
"I'm not laughing," said Harry. Merlin nodded fervently as Ron blinked. "It's a brilliant idea!" Harry continued eagerly. "It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper. Are you good?"
"I'm not bad," said Ron, who looked immensely relieved that Harry wasn't laughing himself silly. "Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays."
"So you've been practicing at night?"
"Every evening since Tuesday...just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaflles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be." Ron looked nervous and anxious. "Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up at tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect."
Merlin sighed. The twins were rather hilarious, but sometimes they didn't stop to think that their jokes and incessant teasing could be a bit harsh.
"I wish I was going to be there," said Harry bitterly as they resumed walking toward the common room together. Merlin trailed behind to let the two friends talk, until he heard Ron say,
"Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?"
Realizing that he'd flashed Ron a look at his hand when he scratched his nose, Harry tried to hide it behind his back. He had about as much success as Ron had had with his broomstick.
"It's just a cut - it's nothing -"
Ron grabbed Harry's forearm and twisted it so that he was staring straight at the back of Harry's hand. He stared at the words that seemed to be carved into his friend's asking for a moment, before releasing Harry, looking rather sick.
"I thought you said she was just giving you lines?"
Of course, Merlin sighed. He didn't tell them. Bloody noble git who doesn't want anyone to know he's in trouble. Just like Arthur.
Looking resigned, Harry quickly recounted everything about the time he and Merlin had been with Umbridge.
"That old hag!" Ron hissed in a revolted whisper as they stopped outside the Fat Lady. Merlin gently prodded her awake and gave the password. She swung open, grumbling softly. They climbed through, Ron still cursing Umbridge.
"She's sick! Go to McGonagall. Say something!"
"No," said Harry at once. "I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me."
"Got to you?" You can't let her get away with this!"
Sensing a brewing argument, Merlin stepped in. "There's nothing we can do. Umbridge has too many connections with the Ministry. If McGonagall tries anything, who knows what Umbridge might do to her. The best thing we can do is give Umbridge no reason to punish us further."
"What about Dumbledore?" demanded Ron.
"No," said Harry flatly.
"Why not? Ron and Merlin asked in unison.
"He's got enough on his mind," Harry grumbled.
Merlin suppressed the urge to groan. He'd warned Dumbledore about keeping Harry of what as going on with Voldemort. Giving him a bit of information about what the Order had been up to during the summer wasn't nearly enough. There was still far too much that Harry didn't know. Considering the fact that he did know that he was in the middle of the war, it really was dangerous that he wasn't being trusted with the details. It was only a matter of time before it came back to haunt Dumbledore where Harry was concerned.
But as it was, he and Ron could only watch resignedly as Harry stamped up the stairs to the dormitory. Ron shook his head.
"One of these days, his tendency to be a bloody noble git is going to get him to trouble," he grumbled.
Merlin nodded tiredly in agreement.
The next evening, Merlin and Harry reported for their final detention. It was the first time that week that Merlin hadn't had a chance to work of the majority of his energy before hand. He could already feel his power roiling within him as he struggled to maintain his temper at the thought of allowing Umbridge to torture Harry and him one more time. This was going to be even less pleasant than usual.
He and Harry walked reluctantly into the office. Umbridge smiled at them and gestured toward the table with the now familiar parchment and quills.
"You know what to do," she said.
They sat down wordlessly and got to work.
Harry kept glancing toward the dark window as they scratched out their lines. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was holding tryouts. Ron could be out there at that very moment. Umbridge grinned in unholy pleasure at Harry's discomfort. She had mentioned something about the tryouts the night before. Luckily, Harry had listened to Merlin when the warlock had warned him that she might say something and had kept his mouth shut.
I think it is high time that I did something to make her life a little more difficult, thought Merlin grimly. There is little I can do to actually oppose her, but I can give her a little hell. I can even think of a couple of pranksters who would be more than happy to aid me. By the time I am finished, the Ministry will regret interfering in this school.
That is a cause that I would gladly be a part of, said Kilgharrah, sounding a little vindictive.
Your wisdom and assistance would be greatly appreciated.
Merlin passed the rest of the detention thinking of the various ways that he could use his knowledge of ancient and now obscure magics to mess with Umbridge. He had to force himself to stay focused enough to concentrate on making it appear as though writing the lines pained him.
Thankfully, Harry was just as distracted by the Quidditch tryouts that he was managing to watch through the window. Illusionary blood dripped down his wrist with every sentence. Merlin was suddenly very thankful that he and Kilgharrah had thought of the bracelets. With them, there would be hardly any indication that the detentions had ever happened. He quickly cast a silent spell that created blood spatters across the parchment. Harry paused slightly when he noticed, then glanced at Merlin and nodded slightly.
"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" asked Umbridge in a soft voice a little while later. Merlin carefully laid his quill on the table, rather impressed that he had managed to control his temper. Plotting revenge was awfully therapeutic.
Umbridge took Merlin's wrist first and examined the cut on his hand. Her lips quirked into a satisfied smile before she moved on to Harry.
No sooner had she touched his wrist than Harry jerked it away from her sharply, holding it against his chest and staring at Umbridge in mingled surprise and barely concealed horror.
"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it," she said softly, seemingly pleased by Harry's reaction. Harry didn't say anything. He just stared at her with a strangely closed off expression. Dread pooled in Merlin's stomach. What had he missed?
Umbridge smiled at them in a way that was probably supposed to be motherly, but was only malicious and condescending. "I think I have made my point. You may both go."
The moment she was done speaking, Harry grabbed his bag and hurried out of the room. Merlin smiled slightly and shook his head, pretending that he thought Harry was just anxious to learn the outcome of the Quidditch tryouts. But he knew better. Something had happened.
Kilgharrah, I don't want Harry to become any more suspicious of me. Would you mind keeping out of sight and watching to see if he says anything about what happened to Ron or Hermione.
Of course, Kilgharrah replied.
Not for the first time, Merlin was glad that he wasn't alone.
He trudged through the halls, in no great hurry to return to the common room. After so many years alone it was rather tiring to be around that many people all the time, even if he had missed it. He was tempted to go up to the North Tower and break the spells on Arthur's portrait, but decided that, even though he needed the help keeping an eye on things, it could wait a day or two so that he could thoroughly humiliate Arthur in the process.
When Merlin finally reached the common room, he found himself in the middle of a celebration. Ron had apparently made Keeper. He, Harry, and Hermione were talking in the corner. One of the seventh years offered Merlin a butterbeer. He declined, claiming that he was tired and made his escape to the dormitory.
It was his scar, said Kilgharrah just as Merlin closed the door.
What? he asked sharply.
When Umbridge touched him, Harry's scar pained him. They seem to think that there is the possibility that she is possessed as Quirrell was.
We'd know if that was the case.
Hermione has suggested that it is just a coincidence and that Harry was once more sensing what Voldemort was feeling at the time. She wants him to go to Dumbledore, but he has refused once again.
Oh, for the love of Avalon, Merlin groaned. I bloody warned him.
Kilgharrah sighed. Perhaps you should say something?
Harry already has his suspicions of me. If I suddenly become an expert on his scar, then he will most likely cease to trust me at all. No. I'll have to convince Dumbledore.
It is a little risky for you to say something and you know Dumbledore will not wish to. Would one of the other Order members be willing?
I'm sure Sirius or Remus would if they knew the situation, but Dumbledore managed to get them to swear an oath not to speak of anything concerning the prophecy without his permission. I believe this is tied into it. But it may be worth a try if I can't convince Dumbledore to listen to me.
Indeed. Sirius especially would be of assistance. Harry did wish to speak to him, but Hermione, quite rightly, reminded him that that would not be wise to put in a letter. Harry would listen to him.
That is true. And it reminds me that I need to do something about Sirius being trapped in that godforsaken house. If he stays there much longer with Kreacher as his only constant company, his own memories will succeed in driving him mad where the Dementors failed. Dumbledore is misguided in keeping him there.
But where would he go, young warlock? He is a wanted murderer.
Merlin thought for a moment. Then smirked as an idea struck him. Maybe he doesn't really need to leave. If we could actually get that place cleaned up and looking less like a den for Dark Wizards, then he might be able to forget some of his darker memories. I don't see why Dumbledore didn't ask a couple of the house elves to see to the place when first began using it as headquarters.
A deceptively simple solution. That may very well work. Though there are a few details that need to be seen to. Such as Kreacher and some of the Dark artifacts.
I can deal with that later. For the moment, I am going to speak with Dumbledore about Harry. That is far more pressing.
Kilgharrah said nothing, but Merlin sensed his agreement. He quickly drew the curtains around his four poster and cast a complicated little spell that would make it appear as though he was there and keep any of his dorm mates from checking on him. That done, he snapped his fingers and appeared before the door to Dumbledore's office in a gust of wind. He knocked once then strode inside.
Dumbledore looked up in surprise, then smiled when he saw who it was.
"Ah. Merlin. Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
Merlin sat down slowly. "Have you done anything to tell Harry about the Prophecy?"
"I do not think it to be wise," said Dumbledore carefully.
"Why not?" he pressed, curious as to whether the headmaster would answer him.
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I believe that here is a connection between Harry and Lord Voldemort that allows them to see into each other's minds. At the moment, Voldemort is unaware of the full prophecy. If he gleans the remainder of it from Harry's mind, he is likely to act far more swiftly and devastatingly."
"Which of course is an excuse to avoid Harry completely," Merlin said dryly, cocking an eyebrow in a very Gaius-like way. "Do you realize what you are doing?" he demanded. "You've almost completely isolated Harry. He feels like he can't talk to you about things that he should really be talking to you about. He needs to know what's going on so he can deal with it."
"Harry deserves a chance to be normal," Dumbledore said quietly. "I do not wish to burden him with this."
"Have you met Harry? Are we talking about the same person?" laughed Merlin. "This is the Harry Potter that snooped and investigated until he figured out what the sorcerer's stone was and who was after it. The same person that went after it to protect it. The same person who again took it upon himself to find out what was attacking the school and petrifying the students, who went into the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny, who risked everything to save the godfather he barely knew and whom he had spent most of the year hating. The same person who made it through the Triwzard Tournament despite being fourteen years old. The same person who dueled Voldemort and escaped from him and his death eaters.
"Harry has been through too much for you to be keeping this from him. The only way he has survived everything that has happened to him is by being in control and by confronting it head on. You are backing him into a corner. If you don't start trusting him, if you don't do something about this connection, he's going to act on insufficient information, because it's what he believes he has to do, and who knows what will happen."
Without waiting for Dumbledore to answer, Merlin rose and left the room in a swirl of wind. He landed on his bed with a soft thump. Letting out a tired sigh, he slumped back against his pillows and closed his eyes. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought.
Author's Note: I am once again, responding to some anonymous reviews.
Da Goblin's Gold: That's your prerogative, and I can't stop you. I would like to point out that I never said that she was a powerful as Merlin. I simply said that have a very good reason for why should be around. According to Arthurian legend, it is she who welcomes Arthur to Avalon. Now, obviously, it's not going to happen exactly like that, but to be a lady of Avalon, she must be immortal. That is just one reason I have for making this decision. I have others that are far to spoilery to mention here. Morgause is not a possibility because I'm not looking to give Merlin an enemy, but an ally. I highly doubt that Morgause could ever see past the fact that Merlin chose Arthur. I would be disappointed to lose a reader, but I have to make the choice that I believe fits the story and I believe giving Merlin a companion who shares his capabilities with Old magic, who knows his history, and who is actually willing to help him, rather than smile and nod (Dumbledore) is important. Just think about that.
Iloveyourfanfic: Thank you. I really do love to hear how happy my stories make people. That's why I write them. I had so much fun writing the scenes with Snape and Umbridge and there will be more to come!
