Chapter 31: Baby dragon

When Merlin disapparated from Dumbledore's office in a cloud of black smoke and a whirl of wind, he was showing off. There was no denying it. He quickly regretted it as the castle's wards pressed against him, holding him in. They were cast to disallow anyone to apparate within Hogwarts, but they were no match for someone like him. He fought through them until he was free.

Now what? For a moment, his non-corporeal form hovered outside of Hogwarts aimlessly. It was a mistake to use this spell while in anger as now he had to expel even more effort to focus and lock down on where the house-elf's mark was. He should've done that beforehand. It took a lot of persistence, but thankfully, he was able to follow the trail.

He had just as much trouble getting through the wards of the building where the elf led him to. He regained solid form, tried to steady his breath, and took a look around. He was inside a large room, a hallway of sorts with shiny marble floors and a tall ceiling. He apparated some distance away from the elf to not alert the creature of his arrival, but to his chagrin, the room wasn't empty. A few people—wizards, judging by their robes—looked around, wondering where the wind came from. Merlin quickly ran behind a column before they noticed him.

It worked in his favor that they didn't recognize the whirl of wind as a teleportation spell. Modern wizards were only used to what their version of apparition looked like, and that was also what they set up wards against. Their ignorance of Old Magic allowed Merlin to overcome any ward. They couldn't keep him in or out of anywhere, but breaking through the wards took so much of his energy, he felt exhausted already. It wasn't a good start to his reconnaissance mission.

And he was half-dressed. He had trousers on but his top was a pajama shirt with a disco-dancing baby dragon and the words "BURN! BABY, BURN!" on it. He thought it was funny when shopping for age-appropriate attire, but now, he wished he was wearing something else, just anything other than this. No wonder Dumbledore had a hard time treating him seriously when he showed up looking like that.

He could use glamour to make his pajama appear more shirt-like but it wasn't wise to tire himself even more with difficult spells. His wand would have come in handy about now, but it sat on his nightstand where he'd left it. As much as he hated to admit it, wand magic had its use. When he felt depleted like this, he would have no problem performing wand spells. Oh, his temper really did a number on him this time. He was completely unprepared.

"Who cast that spell?" a woman who sounded like an authority figure asked the bewildered secretary.

"Men from the Department of Mysteries just passed by with a large crate," he offered, and that seemed to be a satisfiable answer because no more questions were asked.

Merlin smacked his forehead. He was in the Ministry of Magic. Oh, what a place to be found in wandless and wearing baby dragon pajamas. While he was stuck there, waiting to regain his strength, he might as well look for Dobby and his master. He snuck around, hiding behind columns and statues until he saw the elf.

Dobby stood in a corner, picking on his dirty pillowcase and quietly sobbing to himself. Merlin crouched and waited for the elf's master to claim him. Should he subdue him immediately or find out who it was and deliberate the next step with Dumbledore? He was torn in the decision. If the tables were flipped, would Dumbledore wait? Nah. He wouldn't wait.

And wasn't that frustrating. Why did it feel like Merlin was a foot soldier to the "bigger" wizard? Why wasn't he the boss? Should he assert his dominance or was he more comfortable doing the behind-the-scenes work?

Hours passed and Merlin grew tired of waiting, but he didn't want to leave—the master could come at any moment. An awful thought struck him. What if Dobby's master forgot to pick up his servant on his way out? Dobby would wait until he was called. How long would that be? Merlin's stomach gave a mighty growl, and he wondered if he should wait longer or give up for the day.

"Who might you be, young fella?"

Merlin whirled around, and his knees buckled, weakened from crouching for so long. A middle-aged man with flaming red hair looked down at him curiously.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

The damage was already done, he was discovered, and the only thing left to do was to get away before trouble got worse. He looked around him for ideas and saw a witch disappear in a green flame.

"I came out of the wrong fireplace."

"Oh, dear me," the man said with a kind smile. "I'll help you get back."

The ginger man led him in the direction of the large fireplaces which were on the other side of the room. Merlin snuck a glance at the wizard and noticed a resemblance to the Gryffindor redheads.

"Are you Arthur Weasley?"

"Yes, I am. You've met my children, I presume?"

"Yes. I'm in the same year as Ginny."

"Gryffindor?" Merlin nodded and the man smiled. "Give her greetings from daddy, will ya?"

They stopped at one of the fireplaces, and Mr. Wesley handed him a handful of Floo powder.

"Just talk clearly this time, chap."

"Will do. Thank you."

Merlin cast a last glance at the elf who obediently waited alone. He would have to come back and check on him another day. Hopefully then, Dobby would be home, wherever that home may be.

"Albus Dumbledore's office," Merlin said when he threw the Floo powder, hoping that the Headmaster wouldn't mind the intrusion.

He was thrown out of the other fireplace and landed sprawled on his belly, right at the feet of the old wizard. Luck had it that the fireplace was lit, so he spread ash and embers around in the process.

"Sorry about that," he said, picking himself up.

He attempted to shake the soot out of his clothes, but it was pointless. He needed a thorough bath.

"I found Dobby," he tried to explain himself, ignoring the old wizard's bemused expression. "I waited for hours, but his master never showed up."

"What were you doing with the Floo powder, Mr. Ealdor?"

Merlin froze. "Oh, sard me," he breathed out.

That was the voice of McGonagall behind him. Nothing went right today. He groaned and looked to Dumbledore for help.

Albus looked down at him. "Sard me?"

"Look it up."

The old wizard's eyes twinkled with humor, but he offered no rescue. Merlin supposed he served himself up for ridicule like a pig for a banquet—made a dramatic exit and came back like a fool in dirty baby dragon pajamas. Merlin turned around and plastered an innocent smile on his face.

"I should go," he said and tried to make a quick getaway. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"What were you doing?" She looked from him to Dumbledore.

Merlin bit his lip and tried to come up with something that would make sense. He was a child. A childish explanation would work best. "I was playing hide and seek."

"In a fireplace?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I figured, they'll never find me here."

The wrinkles on her face deepened while Dumbledore turned around to hide his stifled laughter with a cough. Merlin shrugged and tried to look guileless.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Minerva, would you please escort our young friend to the Gryffindor tower so he may clean up?"

She looked like she wanted to say something but then put a hand on Merlin's back and pushed him out the door. Once outside the Headmaster's office, she stopped him. Her gaze oozed disapproval.

"You're lucky the Headmaster tolerates your behavior. He told me that he's friends with your family and that should supposedly excuse your casual demeanor, but you should remember that you are a student at this school. You will address him respectfully and will not show up in his office unannounced like this anymore. You have embarrassed the House of Gryffindor and me. Am I making myself clear?"

Merlin inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, ma'am."

She pursed her lips and contemplated what to do with him. In the meantime, Merlin was ready to double over from hunger. He hadn't eaten since the day before.

"I can't believe I have to say this, but Floo powder is not to be used for playtime, Mr. Ealdor. How did you find a fireplace that was connected to the Floo Network?"

He shrugged. "Lucky."

She looked like she wanted to interrogate him, but his stomach chose this moment to make a very loud growl, and Merlin was too tired to even feel embarrassed about it. She steered him to the tower, and he stumbled, trying to move his feet in sync. He couldn't remember the last time he was this exhausted by magic and wondered why he felt so spent when all he did was a teleportation spell and breaking through two powerful barriers. Then, it dawned on him that he did all of that while holding the aging spell. It had been months now. Maintaining it for such an extended period of time was taking a great toll on him. He missed being in his adult body. He missed how unlimited his magic reserves felt. For the time being, he was stuck like this and had to get used to the consequences, starting with no more big shows of magic.

When he got to his dorm, he eyed his bed longingly and considered just collapsing in it. But his young body demanded nourishment, so he took a quick shower and somehow found the energy to make it downstairs. When he got there, the evening feast had just started. He found Jack sitting in their usual spot and joined in.

"Hey, don't disappear on me like that," Jack accused. "You had me worried."

Merlin shrugged, too tired to come up with an excuse. They ate in silence—conversation didn't feel right without Colin there. The absence of the missing part of their trio was painful. He kept sneaking glances to where Colin usually sat next to him. Such a sweet boy to befall such a cruel fate.

Jack excused himself to talk to his sister, and Merlin had a sense of deja vu because the same thing had happened yesterday. And now it hit him that he forgot the most important part of the previous evening.

Colin looked scared and was trying to tell him something.

"It's about Jack," the boy had said.

Colin found out something and was silenced before he could tell anyone.

Merlin swiveled in his seat to see where the white-haired twins sat together, whispering secret plans to each other. He suspected the boy before because he was missing right before Mrs. Norris was petrified. Why exactly did he drop his suspicions?

He was a fool to fall for Jack's charisma and drop his guard. He wanted to believe that the boy was harmless so much that he ignored the signs plastered right in front of him. Now, as a result of his weakness, an innocent boy paid the price.