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 – all seasons. I have now watched Season 4, so it's fair game as well. You have been warned.
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: The moment Voldemort regained his body, the Old Religion cried out. For the first time in more than a thousand years, Merlin is called from the forward to right the balance once more. Disguised as a fifth year student, he must fight to stop Voldemort when it is not his destiny to do so.
Author's Note: I once again wave the white flag. This chapter drove me up the wall. I have four different versions of it on my computer. I don't think there's too much to say beyond that. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little easier since it relies less on existing material. This chapter was very quickly edited and it's a bit late, so it's probably full of typos.
Thanks for sticking with me! Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 13
The rest of the weekend passed by relatively uneventfully. While the trio enjoyed the sunshine, Merlin spent most of it cooped up in the dorm, hidden behind the curtains, trying to make more of the enchanted bracelets. It proved to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. Imbuing the leather with the various spells was simple, but creating anything other than the simple bands he and Harry were wearing was not going as easily as he'd hoped.
He knew that it would be too obvious for everyone who had detention with Umbridge to show up wearing the exact same band around his or her wrists. Someone, likely the toad, would bet suspicious. But, it had been years since he'd done any serious leatherwork. In Camelot, it had been a relatively common duty, part of keeping Arthur's life running smoothly - or as smoothly as Merlin let it run when they were in between magical crises. Anyway, casting an illusion to change the appearance of the leather interfered with the charm that mimicked the effects of the blood quill, which left Merlin attempting to revive his long neglected leather-working skills.
It was a tedious process of trial and error. Making something like jewelry was a more delicate process than repairing a saddle or armor, but by the end of the day, Merlin felt like he'd gotten the hang of it and when he stopped for the night, he had almost two dozen bracelets made in varying designs and fully enchanted.
As he worked, Merlin spent a lot of time thinking about the problem of getting Harry and Sirius together. He'd already ruled out anything resembling scrying. That could go wrong in so many ways. He knew enough about the issues between the two wizards to know that they couldn't have the option of just walking away from each other. They needed to be in the some place where they couldn't be interrupted and where they were forced to face the problem. That necessity severely limited Merlin's options, especially since Sirius was a wanted man and Harry was practically being stalked by Umbridge. They couldn't be seen.
Kilgharrah was of very little help when Merlin voiced his problem in the hope of getting some advice.
"It seems that you are in quite the predicament, young warlock."
Merlin fought the urge to smack his head against the nearest hard surface. "That doesn't help me. If any of the Order, especially those two, begin to realize just how much I'm meddling with events, they will never trust me. If that happens…" he trailed off. That was a consequence he really didn't want to think about.
Shuffling his wings, Kilgharrah breathed out a puff of smoke and arranged himself into a more comfortable position at the foot of Merlin's bed. "Merlin, this time and this place are very different from Camelot. You cannot operate in the shadows as you once did. In Camelot they were blind to your actions because their idea of magic did not meet with your use of it. Here, that is not the case. What you are doing now is not so out of the realm of possibilities. It is only natural that they will be suspicious."
"How exactly is that supposed to help me?" Merlin demanded in frustration. "I've already told them I'm a druid!"
"Which you really are not."
"That's not remotely the point."
"But it is, young warlock. You have not trusted them, not in truth. You seek to influence events from the shadows, to pull the strings, but not to be seen doing so."
Merlin rubbed his temples. "What else am I supposed to do? I can't exactly tell them that I'm Merlin. It's all a little far fetched, not to mention dangerous for them to know. If Riddle ever caught wind."
"If, young warlock. When have you ever allowed what may happen to dictate your actions?"
"Maybe I should have, on occasion," Merlin muttered.
Kilgharrah snorted, a black puff of smoke billowing from his nostrils. "Loathe though I am to admit this, you were right, young warlock. You cannot condemn someone for what they may do. I was wrong to ask you to condemn the witch. Just as you saw when you attempted to change the future, by causing you to doubt her character, I solidified her fate."
Merlin blinked. In all the centuries he and Kilgharrah had been forced upon each other for company, the dragon had never gone so far as to admit to being wrong, especially not about Morgana. Even considering the way things had turned out. Through his shock, Merlin did register that Kilgharrah had a point.
"That may be true, but I didn't tell Arthur about my magic for years because of the possibility," he stressed word, "that he might not take it well. Because I waited until he'd made his own choice about magic, the world flourished."
"That was lucky," the little dragon very nearly growled. "And I would not doubt that the queen had something to do with that. You know full well that Arthur was more betrayed by your apparent lack of trust than by the fact that you practiced magic and you well know it. Do not pretend that your deception was the reason that it all worked out in the end."
Merlin wanted nothing more than to retort, but he'd almost the exact same lecture from Gaius only hours before Arthur had sat him down and, in a rare display of emotion, all but quoted Gaius.
"Maybe you have a point, but you have to admit that I had been keeping that secret for so long and had come so close to tell him only to have it blow up in my face often enough to be hesitant," Merlin pointed out tiredly.
"You can argue this point all you wish, but the fact remains that if you wish this to work you must trust them," Kilgharrah said irritably. "Your secret is not the most important thing here."
Merlin ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I know that. This secret is not about my safety, but theirs."
"Then do not tell them that you are Merlin. Merely give them reason to trust you."
With that, Kilgharrah spread his wings and leapt off the bed, clearly ending the discussion and leaving Merlin with quite a lot to think about. He supposed that he had fallen back into the same pattern of secret keeping that he'd kept in Camelot. The situations were similar enough. He was once more sneaking around a castle trying to stop someone from using magic to do horrible things. Maybe he was keeping a few too many secrets.
"Bloody hell!"
Harry thought that just about summed it up.
He and Ron had come downstairs for breakfast only to find half of the dormitory gathered around the bulletin board. A large noticed had been placed there overnight, covering most of the board, including the flyer Fred and George had put up.
"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" asked a second year worriedly.
"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," said Ron darkly, startling the younger student. "Doubt we're going to be as lucky, though," he added to Harry in an undertone.
The good mood that had been surrounding Harry since the successful meeting in the Three Broomsticks faded. He clenched his fists in anger. This couldn't be a coincidence.
At that moment, Myrddin stumbled downstairs, looking rather worse for the wear. His eyes were puffy with sleep and his hair was an absolute rat's nest. Harry was actually surprised to see him. When he hadn't seen Myrddin getting ready with the rest of them, Harry had assumed that he was up and out early.
"What's the matter?" Myrddin yawned.
Ron just pointed. Blinking a few times, Myrddin read the notice, becoming steadily more alert as he did. After a moment, he muttered a word under his breath that Harry didn't recognize, but that certainly sounded like a curse.
"She knows," Harry hissed angrily.
"But she can't," Ron protested immediately.
"There were loads of people in that pub. Any one of them could have been listening. And, let's face it, we don't actually know how many of people who turned up can actually be trusted."
"No one could have overheard," Myrddin interrupted. "I cast a privacy spell, remember? No one could have heard through it, nor could they have broken it."
"I bet it was Zacharias Smith," said Ron. "Or—I thought Michael Corner had a really shifty look—"
"You just think it's Corner because he's dating Ginny," snapped Myrddin, shooting a pensive and angry look at the notice. "As for Smith, he's a git, but I don't think he did this. If Umbridge actually knew what we were talking about, she'd hauled us all into her office."
"She must know something," Harry pointed out. "This can't be a coincidence."
"No, I doubt it is. It's most likely that she knows Harry met with a bunch of people, I did tell you that having that many people at the meeting was dangerous, and that she's just trying to cause as much trouble as possible. Has Hermione seen this?"
Ron shook his head. "No, let's go get her." Spinning on his heel, he bounded across the room and pulled open the door to the girls' dormitories. Myrddin raised a hand as though to say something, but Ron had already started up the spiral staircase.
He made it up three steps when it happened. A loud, wailing klaxonlike sound rang through the common room and the steps melted together to form a smooth stone slide. Ron attempted to keep his balance for a moment, his arms pin-wheeling madly. Then, he pitched backward and toppled head over heels down the slide. Myrddin and Harry both winced when Ron landed on his backside at the base of the stairs. Ron was going to have some colorful bruises at the end of the day.
"Er—I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh. He was one of the few people who were succeeding in restraining their mirth. Even Myrddin was struggling with it.
Two fourth years girl came zooming down the slide, giggling all the while.
"Who tried to get upstairs?" they asked laughingly, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.
"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. "I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added, rounding on Harry, as the girls departed, still giggling madly. "Hermione's allowed in dormitory, how come we're not allowed?"
"According to Hogwarts, A History the founders thought that boys were less trustworthy than girls," Hermione supplies as she came sliding down the stairs to land neatly on the rug at Harry, Ron, and Myrddin's feet. Myrddin offered a hand and pulled her up.
"Why would they think that?" Ron asked grumpily.
"It probably had more to do with the morality customs of the time," said Myrddin offhandedly, his attention focused more on the decree than on the conversation. He glanced up when Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained quiet. Noticing their confused (in Ron's case) and curious (in Hermione's) expressions, he quickly explained.
"A thousand years ago it was something of big deal when women became pregnant outside of marriage, but it wasn't completely uncommon, or even unacceptable, for men to have premarital affairs. It was generally assumed that it was the woman's fault. The men got nothing more than a slap on the wrist if they were caught. The women were often shunned and sent to convents or similarly banished."
"I still don't understand what that's got to do with why girls can go into the boys' dorm, but we can't go into theirs," Ron grumbled.
Clearly wishing he'd never said anything, Myrddin heaved a sigh. "To convince parents that it was safe to send their children away, the Founders had to have some means of assuring them that their daughters were protected when they slept, even if it didn't stop them from utilizing the many secret passages of the castle."
"But that's not fair!"
"I never said it was. There's a reason people don't think like that any more."
Harry frowned slightly at the lingering bitterness in Myrddin's voice. It almost sounded like he took that sort of gender prejudice personally, as if he'd experienced it himself. Biting back a sigh, Harry filed it under "Things About Myrdinn that Make Absolutely No Sense." He'd come back to it later.
"Have you seen the board, Hermione?" he asked.
She frowned. "No, is that why Ron was trying to get up the stairs?"
"Yes! Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily, pointing at the sign.
Hermione read it quickly, her expression becoming stony as she did. "They couldn't have."
"Don't be so naïve," said Ron. "You think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy—"
"No, they can't have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly, shooting Ron a rather nasty look as she did. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."
"What'll happen to them?" asked Ron eagerly, forgetting his anger momentarily.
"Well, put it this way," said Hermione. "It'll make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles."
Harry noticed that Ron looked a little too gleeful at the news and that Myrddin seemed incredibly smug about something. Harry wouldn't be surprised to find that he had added something unpleasant of his own. Harry really hoped he'd never find out what it was.
"Come on," Hermione continued. "Let's get down to breakfast. The others will have seen it… I wonder if this has been put up in all the Houses?"
"Most likely," Myrddin said tiredly, "which means we need to be sure that words gets round to the others that we aren't cancelling the Defense group. Regardless of whether this was targeted at us, we can't let that toad win."
Harry nodded grimly. Now, more than ever, he was determined to do this. He would not let Umbridge get the better of him, especially not after she had made her displeasure as clear as possible. They needed to know how to defend themselves and he would do everything in his power to help his fellow students get ready for the war to come.
As they strode over to the portrait hole, Myrddin caught Harry's eye and nodded approvingly.
Arthur was bored. He'd wandered through the entire castle, just to see if Merlin's spell actually worked and because there was little else to do when he was stuck as a portrait that everyone wrote off as absolutely mad.
He was almost positive that his newfound magical capabilities had absolutely nothing to do with the way he'd been immortalized on a portrait and everything to do with Merlin trying to be a good friend. Arthur suspected this because, despite being born of magic, he'd never had the slightest aptitude for actually using it when he was still alive.
Given the frequency with which Arthur found himself threatened by sorcerers and magical creatures, he and Merlin had both thought it wise that Arthur learn at least the basics of magic. Almost everyone could, according to Merlin, but that hadn't included Arthur. He hadn't shown the slightest bit of magical talent and they had certainly tried. He highly doubted that becoming a portrait would make any difference, whatsoever. But he knew what Merlin was trying to do. The ever-loyal idiot was trying to give him the means to do something, anything, to feel useful without feeling like an imposition. If it had been necessary to get Merlin's help every time he wanted to leave his portrait without drawing attention to himself, that is exactly what Arthur would have felt like.
Still, one could only entertain themselves for so long by wandering around a castle, invisible and alone, even if it was a magic castle. This was especially true for Arthur. He had spent decades in the presence of a warlock who, at times, had still had the mentality of a child and who had devoted several decades to instructing young sorcerers. Things like moving staircases and errant spells wreaking havoc hadn't been uncommon in Camelot.
Arthur was itching to do something. He'd gotten little useful information during his wanderings. There were no pictures in the teachers' lounge for privacy's sake and nothing of interest had happened with Umbridge in the past few days, other than him being scarred for life when he'd accidentally stepped into one of her animated plates. The fluffy little kitten had been taller than him and one hiss from that thing had been enough to send Arthur running.
It had only been a few days since Merlin had taken that spell of him and even if he hadn't really expected to find much of anything so soon, Arthur was really, really bored. Which meant he was left with his own thoughts, which was never, ever good. Merlin had told him that many a time.
He hadn't gone back to see Merlin since their confrontation a few days before. He was reluctant to, which was part of why he was attempting to entertain himself by running around the school. It was all still a bit too fresh for Arthur. The very idea that so much time had passed for Merlin when so little had passed for him was hard to process, especially given the circumstances under which they'd parted. It hadn't been their first argument of that kind, but it had been the worse, and Arthur couldn't help but feel guilty for the fact Merlin had spent three hundred years alone.
The weight of those years had shown in Merlin's eyes and in the subtle droop of his shoulders. No one else would have noticed. Well, Gwen or one of the knights might've, but they were all long gone. Kilgharrah might've noticed as well, but Arthur doubted that he'd anything all that helpful to say. He and Merlin had never gotten on all that well. Theirs had been a relationship of necessity, not fondness as far as he could tell.
Arthur had easily gotten over the issues that had started that argument. He had always known that if he could have, Merlin would have been right on the front lines. He had just let his frustration get the better of him and stormed out in a righteous huff. It had been stupid, but inevitable. It had been easy to let go of that anger in light of the fact that Merlin was now actually affecting the world again.
What wasn't easy to let go of was the guilt. Arthur knew that Merlin didn't blame him, would never even consider blaming him for something that wasn't his fault. In fact, Arthur had rather got the impression that Merlin was blaming himself for not looking into things sooner. Unfortunately, that didn't nothing to alleviate the guilt Arthur was feeling for his part in the whole mess.
The bell sounded and the halls filled in a rush of noise. Arthur heaved himself to his feet. With nothing better to do, he'd decided to spend the day following Merlin. This was partly in the hopes that he'd get a better idea of how Merlin really was. So far, all he could tell was that Merlin did seem a bit more worn down by the world than he had three hundred years ago, but the explanation for that was pretty obvious.
Merlin exited the classroom with three students that Arthur could only assume were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They certainly fit the descriptions that Merlin had given. Merlin hung back a bit behind the other three. Arthur wished that he could hear what they were talking about, but the noise of the corridor drowned them out. He followed them through the various portraits.
It wasn't until they reached the potions' classroom that the noise died down a bit. The four students – Arthur snorted a bit at the thought of Merlin being a student when he'd known more than all of the teaches in the school combined a thousand years ago – crowded into a corner, a little bit separate from the rest of the class.
"You know, we haven't exactly figured out where we're going to meet," said the girl, (Hermione, Arthur corrected himself) in an undertone. "With this new decree, it's going to be difficult to find someplace safe."
The dark haired boy, whom Arthur assumed to be Harry, nodded grimly. "Don't suppose you have any ideas."
"Not really," she said. "The library wouldn't do, and neither would any of the classrooms."
"What about the forest?" asked Ron.
Hermione gave him a withering look. "The forest that's filled with acromantulas and all sorts of other creatures?"
The color drained from his face. "Right, not there then. Maybe we could ask Fred and George. They know the school better than anyone. They've got to know somewhere we could go."
A sly look crossed Hermione's face. If he hadn't been paying attention or so well experienced in noticing minute facial expressions, Arthur wouldn't have noticed. He was pretty sure the only other person who did was Merlin.
"Maybe you should write to Snuffles, Harry. I bet he'd have an idea of where to look."
"No," said Harry in a flat tone that brooked no argument. "I'll not give him any reason to get out of the house, not after the last time. We'll have to figure this out alone."
Hermione let out a resigned sigh, looking almost worried by that response, as did Ron. Merlin looked particularly disastified, but none of them said anything. Arthur knew there had to be a story there. He'd have to ask Merlin about it later. And what sort of name was Snuffles, anyway?
A drawling voice cut through the short silence that had fallen between Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Merlin. A boy with white blonde hair was waving an official looking piece of parchment around and talking much louder than was necessary so that everyone gathered outside the classroom could hear.
"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry….It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"
"Don't rise," Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching the boy with faces set and fists clenched. "It's what he wants."
"I mean," continued the boy, raising his voice a little, his eyes glinting maliciously in the direction of Harry and Ron, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance. From what father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. And as for Potter…My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. Apparently they have a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."
The boy pulled a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. The two brutish looking boys standing to either side of them grunted stupidly while the girl standing opposite him let out a peal of shrill laughter.
"Do something, Merlin," Arthur hissed. Merlin had told Arthur about the smear campaign the Ministry was running against Harry as part of the efforts to pretend nothing was wrong. The fact that someone would mock another in such a manner as the blonde, drawling boy was mocking Harry did not sit well with Arthur, to say the least. He was itching to punch the imbecile. In lieu of that, he'd settle for Merlin turning the boy into something unpleasant.
A boy came barreling down the hall, knocking Harry sideways.
"Neville, no!" Harry shouted, leaping forward and seizing the back of Neville's robes. The other boy struggled frantically, his fist flailing as he struggled to reach the drawling boy, who looked rather shocked.
Harry managed to get an arm around Neville's neck and start dragging him backward, away from the drawling boy and the Slytherins standing around him. The two brutish boys were flexing their arms.
"Help me!" grit out Harry. Ron hurried forward and seized Neville's arms. Together, he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet with anger.
Throughout it all, Merlin stood stock still, his hands curled into fists at his side, the barest hint of gold visible in his eyes. Arthur frowned. He'd expecting Merlin to be angry, but not that angry.
"What do you know that we don't, Merlin?" he whispered, filing the question away for later.
The pressure Harry was putting on Neville's throat was causing most of what came out of his mouth to become incomprehensible gibberish, but the odd word did splutter forth.
"Not…funny…Mungo's…show…him…"
The dungeon door flew open and a tall man with dark, greasy hair appeared. The hall immediately fell silent and everyone went still. The man coolly took in the scene before him.
"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" he sneered in a cold voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."
Harry let go of Neville, who panted and glared at him.
"I had to," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would have torn you apart."
Neville just snatched up his own bag and stormed into the dungeons.
"What in the name of Merlin was that about?" asked Ron, staring after him.
Arthur noticed Merlin tense just slightly at the sound of his name before rolling his eyes the tiniest bit. That must be driving him crazy, Arthur thought, even as he wondered the exact same thing as Ron.
Harry didn't answer, but something about the guilty, understanding look in his eye told Arthur that he knew exactly what that had been about.
The rest of the class filed into the classroom without further incident. A moment later, the door closed behind them. Sighing, Arthur made himself comfortable in a corner of the portrait. Nothing to do now but wait until class ended.
It took far more restraint than it should for Merlin to refrain from doing something truly nasty to Malfoy. He knew what an arse the boy could be and he knew why. One of the many things Merlin was hoping to do was to help Malfoy. But, by Avalon and all of the gods of the Old Religion, he wanted nothing more than to curse Draco with some horrible disease for what he'd said. Merlin wanted to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt and believe that he hadn't actually been targeting Neville as much as Harry and Ron, but he couldn't quite make it there.
With exaggerated calm, Merlin pulled out his books and set up his cauldron. He did his best to ignore the mutterings that filled the room. Everyone was surprised by Neville's outburst.
"You will notice," said Snape in a low voice brimming with annoyance, "that we have a guest with us today."
He gestured toward one corner of the dungeons. Everyone turned to see Umbridge sitting primly on a stool, a clipboard on her knee. Harry was glancing between Umbridge and Snape with anticipation. Merlin turned back to his cauldron and rolled his eyes. He supposed Harry was looking forward to seeing his two least favorite people go toe to toe. He was more interested in what position Umbidge was going to take with Snape and whether the potions' master could keep mastery of his temper.
Acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary, Snape swept to the front of the classroom. "We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions"—he waved his wand – "on the board. Carry on."
For the first half hour or so, not much happened as the class followed Snape's instruction. Merlin concentrated on being especially careful not to draw attention to his potion-brewing abilities. She was already looking for Emrys without having reason to be suspicious of Myrddin as well.
That wasn't to say he wasn't paying careful attention to everything else that was going on. Umbridge sat quietly in her corner, scribbling non-stop while Snape stalked through the classroom, doing his best to pretend that she wasn't there. Merlin was pleased to note that the man seemed to be making some effort to be fairer to everyone, especially considering how difficult that had to be under the circumstances. At least he wasn't going out of his way to praise the Slytherins or berate the Gryffindors.
"Salamander bloody, Harry!" Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!"
Merlin sighed and flicked his wrist casually behind his cauldron. A rune flashed across the surface of Harry's cauldron for the briefest moment. Now if Harry added the wrong ingredient, no one would get blown up.
"Right," said Harry vaguely to Hermione, putting down the bottle and picking up the correct one by pure chance.
He's really not subtle, thought Merlin.
Umbridge stood from her corner. She nestled her clipboard in the crook of her elbow, and walked over to where Snape was bent over Dean Thomas' cauldron. Harry let out a quiet sound of triumph and seemed to almost vibrate with anticipation. He wasn't the only one. It seemed that the entire classroom was holding its breath. Even Merlin set down his ladle to watch.
"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."
Oh, honestly. The Strengthening Solution has been on the syllabus for generations. It's the perfect building block for more complicated potions. She's just got her panties in a twist because it might possibly make someone a bit stronger than normal, thought Merlin peevishly.
Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her. Something told Merlin that the other man had exactly the same opinion that he did, but he said nothing.
"Now…how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.
"Fourteen years," Snape replied.
"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?"
Merlin frowned. Where is she going with that? I'd have thought Snape would be one of the teachers toady would actually like.
"Yes," said Snape, his eyes sparking with anger so well hidden, Merlin was pretty sure he was the only one who could see it. Umbridge certainly didn't.
"But you were unsuccessful?"
Snape's lip curled. Merlin couldn't blame him.
"Obviously."
Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. Honestly, where was she going with this?
"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"
"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.
"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.
"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.
"Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile.
"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. Silently, Merlin thanked him for asking the question. He doubted that she would give a straight answer, but it might give him some leverage to use.
"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er—backgrounds…"
Merlin frowned a gain, more deeply than before. Was she implying something about Snape's history as a death eater? Because that honestly didn't make much sense. Everyone knew about Lucius Malfoy's connections to Voldemort, but that didn't stop Umbridge from considering him an upstanding citizen of the wizarding world. Perhaps, she was going to try to use Dumbledore's refusal to employ Snape in the Dark Arts post as another reason he shouldn't be headmaster, but Merlin didn't particularly think that made sense, either. So what was she up to?
His frown only deepened when he noticed Umbridge walk over to Pansy Parkinson and begin asking her questions about the lessons. That probably wouldn't turn out well for the Gryffindor students.
A shadow fell over the table and Merlin glanced up to see Snape looming over Harry's cauldron. This close, Merlin could see the barely restrained fury in the man's eyes. Merlin couldn't blame him. He'd be just as furious if someone questioned his judgment while bringing up dark memories. If the white-knuckle grip Harry had on the edge of his chair was anything to go by, he'd noticed just how angry Snape was as well and was fully expecting some of that fury to be taken out on him. He was staring at his congealing, foul-smelling potion with a carefully blank expression. Merlin winced. There was no salvaging that.
"No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape, his voice quiet but distinctly lacking any malice, which surprised even Merlin. He calmly waved his wand and vanished the smoking potion. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"
"Yes," said Harry furiously. Merlin rolled his eyes. That had actually been incredibly fair, in his opinion, but then again, Snape could have given Harry full marks and Harry still would have found a reason to twist it.
When the bell rang a few moments later and the entire class hurried off for lunch, Merlin tarried until the classroom emptied, making a show of having to wrestle with his cauldron.
"Would you be willing to do me a favor?" he asked once it was safe. He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione are going to start a defense club seeing as Umbridge isn't teaching them anything worth a damn. I'm doing what I can to help them, but I think she's suspicious."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "The decree?"
"Exactly. They met with a bunch of students in Hogsmeade. Too, many, honestly. They attracted attention. I'm pretty sure she'd just suspicious. Would you be willing to let me know if Umbridge says anything or starts asking questions that might suggest she's getting any more suspicious?"
"You think it wise for Potter to be instructing students?" asked Snape. He sounded skeptical, but not dismissive.
"I do," said Merlin firmly. "He did survive the Tournament. Even you have to admit he's got a knack for Defense and he has actual experience in a fight. He's our best bet. Besides, I'll be there if anything goes wrong." He leaned forward, planting his hands on his desk to gaze at Snape. "We need someone to teach these children. They're not going their O.W.L's at this rate, let alone survive a war. None of the teachers can do anything. They'll get sacked. I do believe Harry is a good choice for this and, if at all possible, I'd like a bit of help making sure he can."
Snape slowly lowered himself into his chair, clearly deep in thought. "Very well. I will inform you if Madam Umbridge says anything that might imply she is aware of this scheme. Loath though I am to admit it, Potter is indeed gifted in Defense. Just make sure he doesn't destroy the school."
Merlin smiled gratefully and hurried off to lunch before anyone could notice that he was missing.
Author's Note: Next up, we'll finally get to see Sirius and Harry talk. I'll try to get it up more quickly than this one.
Anonymous Review Responses:
Nobody: Thanks for that. It's just frustrating. I'll try not to take too much advantage of your kindness. I like Dumbledore, too, even if he is a bit screwed up. Having him keep things from Merlin is my attempt to keep him in character. I do sort of see him as this kind of grand chess master. So glad you liked Merlin's participation. I really don't want him to completely take over. Thanks for the review!
Mwinter: no problem. Thanks for leaving the review and sorry to keep you waiting.
Topac: I am thinking about writing some oneshots/short stories about how Merlin got from Camelot to the modern day. I have a couple of ideas.
Riley: That I do. And you'll get to find out what it is soon!
Egnazol: Thank you! It's been really fun pulling these two fandoms together. Sorry the update took so long.
Magpie09: Yay, I'm glad you agree. Thanks for the review!
Guest: I am working on that. I kind of feel like this has been set up. I do have plans for complications, one of which should come in the next chapter if it all works out. It's not my intention for this to be perfect for everyone. Merlin's guilt will play a part later, but he needs a catalyst. He's spent most of the past twelve hundred years with Arthur, so that wouldn't do it. Again, I have an idea for that. Thanks so much for the concrit.
Megwar: Don't worry about it. I'm one of the worst reviewers n the planet. I hate plot holes and I do my best to plug them. Hopefully this chapter helped explained portrait Arthur's power. Maaaaybe. You'll just have to wait and see. Thank you!
Guest: Thank you!
Love it: Thanks! Sorry for the wait. I'm looking forward to that talk as well. That'll come a bit later, probably the same time as in the book. I loved writing that reunion scene. I can't wait to put them together more.
Guest: I feel like I've said this a lot. Sorry for the wait. A lot of crossovers just aren't worth it, I think. I'm glad you took the chance with mine. Hopefully I didn't take so long that you've lost your mind, lol.
Anonymous: Um…now?
Aiedail: Oh, thank you! I will definitely update in time for Halloween, lol.
Kilgharrah: Thank you!
