Chapter 10: One secret, two secrets, three secrets...

Minerva patiently waited for her students to file into the classroom. This morning, she had first-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. As the Deputy Headmistress, she was responsible for creating the class schedule, and it was no coincidence that she had the twins together in her class for the entire year.

The students came in, and the twins sat together, avoiding looking at her.

Minerva's mind kept drifting off to last evening's conversation with them. Yet again, she had tried to get them to open up about their past, and just when she thought that they would finally let go of their secrets, they clamped up, said nothing. How was she supposed to help them if she didn't know what scared them so much?

She had been trying for months to gain their trust and couldn't imagine what it was that she was doing wrong. Sometimes, she wished she could use Veritaserum on them to get this frustrating silence over with. It would be easy for a couple of drops of the truth potion to "accidentally" find its way to their drinks, not that she'd thought about it or anything.

Since the twins wouldn't confide in her, she made them promise that they wouldn't run away. If they had any other concerns, they were to come to her immediately. Her door would always be open to them. They agreed obediently and left her to her frustrated thoughts.

Once a runaway, always a runaway—she feared this logic would apply in their case no matter what they promised her.

She gave the class a brief introduction to this year's curriculum, had them take notes, and gave them the first task, to turn a match into a needle. She walked between the rows of desks to check on each student, to correct their pronunciation or wand movement.

One student was hopelessly failing.

"Mr. Ealdor, put a little effort in."

The boy said the spell wrong. She corrected him, he pronounced it right but waved his wand sloppily. She showed him the correct way to do it, but this time, he dropped his wand. Something kept happening, messing up his spell. He aimed it in the air. He held the wand backwards. He performed the move before saying the spell. It was as if he was doing it wrong on purpose! At last, he got a hiccup attack, making it impossible to say the spell at all.

"See me after class," she told him. She had spent too much time with him already and ignored the needs of other students.

"Sure, Professor," he answered with a smile, and she wasn't sure what he was so happy about. No student had ever looked forward to seeing her after class.

She went around the classroom, checked the children's progress, and finally arrived at the twins' table. She was very curious to see their progress in Transfiguration. It was a difficult branch of magic, but she had high hopes that they would do well. She remembered her first Transfiguration class. She turned that pebble into a button halfway through the lesson. It felt easy, but talent like hers was rare.

"Can I have a new match, Professor?" Elsa asked her shyly.

Minerva checked on what happened to the girl's match and got excited, seeing that it was transfigured but then her spirits deflated. The match was still a match but it was now made of ice. Minerva sighed and brought a new match for the girl to work on.

Jack was not making much progress either. His match slid down his desk every time he said the spell. It was only their first lesson. They had a lot to learn, just like the other first-years, but Minerva was slightly disappointed that they did not show a natural talent in her branch of magic.

She corrected Jack's wand movement, but he waved it too enthusiastically, which resulted in his match exploding into a burst of flurries. Jack put a hand over his mouth to hold in his laughter. He glanced at her and his smile faltered.

She smiled back to let him know she wasn't angry with him. She was frustrated with the secrecy, yes, but the worries these children gave her were not their fault. Maybe she wasn't qualified to be their guardian. Would they have opened up to someone else?

The class came to an end and none of her students made any progress. Most years, she had one or two students succeed during the first lesson. Her personal record was five. It had been at least a decade since there were none. Was she losing her touch?

"Do not become discouraged," she told them as they packed their bags. "The elegant art of transfiguration is an exact science with no margin for error. It will take time for you to get better at it. Keep practicing."

The students left, and Merlin stayed behind.

"Mr. Ealdor," she said, sitting down and folding her hands on the desk, "would you mind telling me what that was in class today?"

"It looked like everyone had a hard time with this spell," the boy said.

"No. The other students were trying. You did not perform the spell right even once."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I'll try harder next time."

Something in his tone made her think that he found this conversation amusing. Most students found her intimidating, which was how she preferred it. Mild intimidation helped keep the restless youth in line.

"Do not think that I will not fail you just because you are in Gryffindor. I expect the same level of effort from students of all Houses."

"Yes, Professor."

She still wasn't convinced that he took her warning seriously, but she couldn't do anything else at this point. Every year had a couple of slackers and underachievers. She dismissed him and prepared for the next class.

》《

Merlin strolled through the Hogwarts hallway, looking out the windows towards the grounds, contemplating if he wanted to go outside or back to his dorm. He felt stir-crazy from being cooped up in dingy classrooms every day, but an afternoon nap sounded inviting.

The first week at Hogwarts was going smoothly. He got to introduce himself to Harry, though the boy was always too busy to talk. Dumbledore's reasoning was that too many people would start asking questions if Merlin showed up in the second year. As a first-year student, he was just one of many, not worth noticing. Dumbledore didn't realize just how much of a difference it made to not share classes and dorm with Harry, but it was too late to change that now. Merlin had to make it work.

As part of the blending-in act, Merlin tried to pretend to not know magic but had a hard time gauging just how much he should fake it. At first, he tried to use Jack as his guide, but with the variety of random nonverbal spells he was casting, Jack was not the right child to use as a "normal" baseline. Colin proved to be a much better example of how a first-year student should struggle or succeed, so Merlin watched him closely and tried to recreate his results. He might have overdone it in Transfiguration.

His thoughts were interrupted as he collided with a mass of dark robes and landed on his butt painfully. His bookbag flew up while its contents fell around him.

"Watch where you're going, ear-head," sneered a Slytherin boy while two very large boys stood on his sides like bodyguards. His name was Draco Malfoy, as Merlin had learned, the same pale-haired boy that bothered Harry in the Diagon Alley bookstore.

"Ear-head. That's a good one, Malfoy," chuckled the fat gooney. "'Cause his ears are as big as his head."

"Another Gryffinloser," Malfoy said while kicking away Merlin's bag. "They'll let anyone in that House."

'Remember why you're doing this,' Merlin told himself. 'It's all for Harry.'

"Sorry. My bad." He tried to get up, and one of the large boys kicked his arm away, making him drop to the ground again.

"Oops," the boy said innocently while keeping his foot ready to kick Merlin's hand, should he attempt it again. "He can't get up."

Merlin's mind started swirling with ideas of how he could retaliate without revealing himself. He could have some fun with it or create an inconspicuous distraction. Dumbledore would prefer the latter, but he wasn't the one being humiliated on the floor by three prats.

"Leave him alone," Jack's familiar voice called out from behind the Slytherins.

He went around the three bullies and extended a hand to Merlin.

Malfoy was the first to recover from the interruption.

"Oh, wait," he mocked, pointing out Jack to his bodyguards. "Elsa is here to save the day."

His goonies cackled like hyenas, and Merlin worried about how Jack was going to react to the taunt, but Jack put a lopsided smile on his face and faced Malfoy.

"Was that supposed to be funny? I'll tell you what's funny, Malfoy. Your face."

Malfoy's sneer turned into a venomous scowl, and he lunged at Jack but slipped, on what, Merlin wasn't sure. As he fell backwards with flailing arms, Merlin took that as his cue. He locked his eyes on the feet of the two large boys and commanded their shoelaces to tie to each other, and they promptly fell down with very unmanly shrieks.

The three Slytherins writhed on the floor while Jack picked up Merlin's books. Malfoy got up first and shook the dust off his robes.

"You don't want to make an enemy out of me, freak." Without his bodyguards to back him up, his threat didn't sound confident. "Wait till my father hears about this."

Jack ignored him and put the stack of books in Merlin's hands.

"Are you deaf or did you bleach your brain along with that hair?"

"I bet he bleaches it together with his tighty-whities," one of the goonies on the floor retorted while trying to untangle his shoes.

Merlin was puzzled. That insult didn't even make sense.

Jack put his arm around Merlin and steered him away from the trio. When out of their view, his cheeky grin faltered. He wasn't as immune to their insults as he pretended.

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin noticed that Malfoy pulled out his wand. The little git was planning to jinx them in the back! Before the Slytherin could utter the curse, Merlin used his magic to slightly move the boy's wand up.

"Ow," Malfoy cried, clutching his eye.

"Why'd you poke yourself?" the flat-faced goonie asked while still struggling with his shoes.

Merlin snickered and casually left the scene. He wished he could stick around and pick on them more. Being young was stripping him of all maturity, but if it continued being this fun, he didn't mind.

"Thanks," Merlin said, fixing the scarf around his neck, which came loose during the encounter.

He could've handled it on his own, but it was touching that Jack was willing to stand up to three older boys for him. He was difficult to figure out. He kept his head down most days, always defaulting to spending more time with his sister than his friends, but his heart was in the right place.

Jack strolled next to him with hands in his pockets. "What are tighty-whities?"

"Your undies. Tighty-whitie-undies." Answered Peeves, the resident Poltergeist, who glided in front of them and bobbed in the air. "I saw what you did. Naughty boys. Very naughty."

He locked his orange eyes on Jack, and the boy's face grew even paler than it already was. He grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him away.

"Wait, wait, wait, little boys," Peeves caught up to them and forced them to stop. "Don't run away. I like naughty boys." He looked from Jack to Merlin. "A big secret, I see. We're keeping secrets. Peeves loves secrets."

The bell on his hat swung from side to side, making a jingly sound to the rhythm of his malevolent chuckle.

Merlin swallowed. Did Peeves know about him? How did he find out?

"Please, don't say anything," Jack said. Did he think Peeves addressed him?

Peeves chuckled again, rubbed his hands together, and said in a sing-song voice, "What to do? Oh, what to do? Peeves knows a secret or maybe two."

Merlin stood still and tried to keep a blank face as if he didn't know what was going on. It was only his first week. His identity couldn't be revealed just yet, but spirits were not people. They couldn't be reasoned with. They could only be bribed.

"I'm glad you approve of how we handled the situation," Merlin addressed Peeves, who grinned widely. "Feel free to finish what we started. Those three Slytherins are just begging to be pranked some more today."

Peeves looked between them and chuckled in his high-pitched voice. "Bullies three, pranksters three."

"That's right. They need a third prankster to even the odds. Go, do what you do best, Peeves."

Peeves cackled and floated off in the direction of the three Slytherins, taking his knowledge with him. Would anyone believe him if he claimed that the famous Merlin was among them? Nah. Who would believe such nonsense?

"I have to find my sister," Jack said, walking away.

Merlin was tempted to call after him but caught himself before opening his mouth. His mission here was to spend time with Harry. Getting to know Jack had to take the backseat.

He found Harry in the Gryffindor common room, playing a game of Wizard's Chess with Ron. Merlin sat by them to observe. Besides Quidditch, was this Harry's preferred past-time? Merlin wasn't particularly good at chess, not having the patience for it. The only times he'd won at this game, he cheated with magic.

"Nice one, Ron," Merlin said, watching Ron take down another of Harry's pieces.

The ginger boy was actually a good strategist. If Harry lost to him, he might appreciate playing with Merlin later. An easy win could put him in a good mood.

Colin ran down from the dorms, holding a stack of prints.

"Merlin, there you are! I developed my first Hogwarts photos. Do you want to see?"

Not waiting for an answer, he shoved the prints into Merlin's hands and bit his lip, awaiting an opinion. Surprisingly, the pictures were of good quality, one wouldn't think they were taken by a child. There were shots of Hogwarts Express, the castle, some magical objects, as well as several students and teachers. They represented the overall feeling of the Hogwarts experience. It was like seeing the school from Colin's point of view: the castle was grand, the magic was amazing, and the people were happy.

"These are good, Colin," Merlin said, and the boy beamed with pride.

Merlin paused on a picture of Harry with Professor Lockhart. Harry in the picture was trying to get away while Lockhart kept him in a lock, smiling broadly. Why did Dumbledore hire this buffoon?

Colin noticed which picture Merlin was on and pulled it out of his hands.

"Harry, would you please sign it? It would mean the world to me."

Harry gritted his teeth and said, "No," not even looking at the boy

Colin stood frozen, holding the picture, and his smile slowly fell. While Merlin understood Harry's dislike for excessive attention, he felt bad for Colin.

"I'm sure Lockhart would love to autograph it for you," Merlin said, hoping to dissolve the uneasy silence.

"Yeah, I'll ask him," Colin said, still looking at Harry, who was pretending that he wasn't there.

Colin took the pictures and went back to the dorm without another word.

Merlin felt torn. On the one hand, he wanted to stand up for the small boy and tell off Harry for being so cold, but on the other hand, he needed Harry to think he was on his side.

"It will pass," Merlin said, looking for a middle ground. "Colin's excitement will wear off soon, and he'll move on to a new obsession."

Harry and Ron continued their game and discussed detentions they had in the evening, and very soon Merlin became aware that neither of them had said a word to him the whole time he was there.

'They're treating me like Colin,' he realized. 'Maybe worse.'

Merlin felt a sting of rejection. He knew that befriending Harry would take time, but he assumed that it would happen - as long as he was friendly and helpful, he would eventually be accepted into Harry's circle of friends. He never would have expected that he was going to be pushed aside and not even given a chance at friendship.

"I'll see you later," he said. They ignored that as well.

He made his way to his dorm, wondering what he was doing wrong. He stayed current with modern affairs and language, and he felt young, especially now, but what if he was too ancient to connect with the modern youth? When did making friends become so difficult?

He tried to remember back to his childhood. Though most memories had faded, he recalled having at least one good friend. Was there no more? He didn't get to live like other kids, having to hide his magic as it was punishable by death. He had to hide it now too, pretend to be someone he was not. What if these kids could sense he wasn't like them?

He found Colin sitting on his bed, holding his stack of pictures, looking somber. A frown did not look right on him.

"Did you know," Merlin said from the doorframe, "that if you develop the film in the right potion, the pictures will move?"

"Really? Like the paintings?" Colin instantly perked up, that spark of light returning to his eyes. "Oh. My. Wand. Can you teach me?"

"I don't know the recipe, but I'm sure if you check in the library, you'll find instructions for the potion."

"That's amazing! I can't wait. I'll show it to my parents. They will love that! I can't wait until I can do that all by myself. My first magic potion! Will you help me look it up?"

"Uh… sure. Let's go."

Colin bounded over. "Merlin, you're the best friend!"

Merlin clapped the small boy on the shoulder and led him to the library. Colin didn't have a problem with him. Maybe one day he would win over Harry as well.

Merlin wasn't ready to admit defeat. There was an advantage in hiding his identity and being underestimated. Dumbledore was right. He was exactly the type of a secret ally Harry needed. Too bad Harry didn't know that.

A/N: Ah, Mericate: You're asking for more Merlin, other readers are asking for more Elsa. That's the challenge of a multifandom story - there's a very delicate balance in trying to keep everyone's favorite character in the spotlight while still telling a good story. Don't worry, I won't cut the best Merlin moments. I'm a fan of his as well.