Chapter 37: The mayhem deal

Today was the day they would get their answers, but first, they had to sneak past this teacher.

Elsa hid behind a corner while her brother stood so close by, she felt his breath on her neck. Professor Flitwick was strolling down the corridor, holding a giant toad in both hands. As it was Sunday, it would be suspicious for students to wander around classroom corridors, and all Hogwarts staff was on edge due to what happened to Colin Creevey.

As soon as their professor disappeared around the bend, Elsa took her brother's hand, and they sprinted down the corridor and up the stairs. Their synced footsteps brought back memories of sneaking around dark tunnels in what felt like a lifetime ago. If they failed to find their father, they might end up right back in Mother's mountain.

She was over the Moon happy when Jack had told her that The Mirror of Erised was right here in this school! Ah, if only they had asked around earlier… But there was no use for regrets. Today was the day.

"Third floor. Lead the way," she said.

Jack grinned wickedly and pulled her along down the long corridor. "I spoke to Hermione today, and she filled me in on the whole story. Apparently, the three of them had quite an adventure down there last year. She said the entrance is in a room with a trapdoor. From there, we go through a few chambers, and the last one is where the mirror is."

"I just hope it's still there."

"Let's find out."

The corridor seemed to stretch for eons. With each step, the anticipation grew. Elsa needed this to work. She was ready for her own happy ending. When they arrived at the door, she pulled on the handle, but it didn't budge.

Elsa pulled out her wand, said, "Alohomora," and the lock clicked open.

"Hey, that's the same spell Merlin used."

She tried the handle again. This time it moved, but she hesitated. Her heart hammered, ticking away the seconds. This was it. Everything she wanted was behind this door. She would see her father today. Was he a winter spirit like Mother? What did he look like? Was he a Ravenclaw type of person, or Gryffindor, or Slytherin?

Jack put a hand on hers, and they pushed the door open together. It swung with a loud creak, revealing an empty room. The only light streamed through the door they stood in. There was a wooden trapdoor in the center of the room, as promised. Jack grabbed the round handle and lifted it with some effort.

"SURPRISE!"

A flash of colors flew out of the hole, and they both jumped back. The trapdoor snapped shut with a deafening bang which could be heard for miles, announcing their location to whoever was patrolling the area.

"Naughty students! I got you! I got you!" Peeves the poltergeist flew around the room and cackled in a high pitch.

Jack grabbed her hand, and they ran out of the room before someone heard it. They rounded the corner and saw Professor Flitwick dancing with his toad, so they turned into another corridor and ran like the wind until Peeves appeared in front of them, forcing them to stop.

He sat in the air cross-legged, like a floating promise of trouble if they ignored him. "What were you two doing?"

"We're just exploring," Jack lied quickly.

Peeves rubbed his hands together and grinned very widely. "Exploring? Peeves is exploring too. I want to explore what you are."

Jack shrugged. "We're students."

Peeves cackled. "You are two naughty spirits! What type of spirits? Peeves never seen spirits like you. You will tell Peeves or Peeves will start singing a lovely song about you."

Elsa put her hands on her hips. She was not going to be blackmailed by a floating little man wearing a jingly hat. "Listen, here, Peeves. Leave us alone or else!"

She pointed her wand at him, but Peeves laughed so loud, the echo of it bounced off the walls. He started singing and swaying his head side to side so the hat would jingle to the same rhythm.

You might threaten Peeves

You might fight and win

And Peeves will spill the secrets

Of the white-haired twins

Elsa's confidence faltered. She didn't actually know a spell that would drive him away, and he wasn't in the least intimidated by her bluff. And someone could hear the ruckus he was making. She tried to grab him, but he floated away and kept singing his stupid song.

Jack stepped forward. "What do you want, Peeves?"

"Answers, wee spirit. Peeves wants to know secrets, secrets, secrets. Peeves loves secrets."

Jack exchanged a look with her and hissed quietly, "Yes, we're spirits like you, Peeves. Don't give us away."

Peeves glided to him with a toothy grin. "Peeves belongs to this castle. What do wee spirits belong to?"

Elsa bit her lip. How much did they want to reveal? She didn't trust the poltergeist to keep their secret. On the other hand, he'd known all along what they were but never said anything to the wizards. The ghosts of the castle also had not betrayed them. She always wondered why. She had a lot of questions. Maybe it was time for some answers.

"I'll tell you," she said with a sweet smile, "but I have a question too."

Peeves squealed in delight and posed in the air as if he was laying down on a couch, supporting his head with his hands.

"How do you know that we're not ordinary students?"

Peeves sniggered. "Silly wee ones. Spirits glow."

He turned to lay on his belly and kicked his feet in the air playfully.

"Glow?" Elsa tilted her head and walked around the poltergeist, examining him thoroughly. When she paid attention to his skin, she saw the faintest reddish glow. It was always there but at the same time hidden.

"You'd miss it if you weren't looking for it," Jack whispered and then stared at her intensely. "Yeah, I think I see it."

He blinked rapidly and averted his eyes. She tried it on him now. It was difficult, like using a muscle that was never exercised, but when she concentrated, she saw her brother's skin emit the slightest sheen. Her eyes stung, and she closed them briefly to get relief.

"We're going to have to practice this one," she said and smiled. She had a new skill to work on.

"Your turn," Peeves cackled.

"We belong to nature," Elsa spoke quietly, just in case there was anyone nearby. "It's nice to meet another spirit." And learn from him, she added in her thoughts.

Peeves made a couple of flips in the air while wheezing in glee. "Wee nature spirits! Wee nature spirits!" He floated up close to Jack. "Peeves can sense mischief, a lot of mischief." He poked Jack's chest. "Here. Mischief in wee spirit summoned me."

Elsa groaned. "Seriously, Jack? You were feeling so mischievous that you called him here?"

Jack scratched his head. "Is that how this works? You're drawn to a mischievous mood?" Peeves nodded, and Jack looked at her apologetically. "It's not like I can do anything about it."

Peeves kept grinning, and his black eyes glinted. "I have a deal."

"What's the deal?"

"Peeves will keep the secret, but we will let this mischief," he poked Jack's chest again, "loose. Wartyhogs needs more mischief."

"You'll get me in trouble, Peeves," Jack complained.

"No trouble," Peeves said in an innocent voice. "Peeves knows how."

Jack whispered in her ear, "He could help us create distractions for when we're sneaking around or something. It's not a bad idea."

Elsa put a hand on his shoulder to pause him. "There have to be rules to this mischief-making. You can't just use Jack whenever you feel like it."

"Deal," Peeves said with a grin.

"And Jack will get to choose what type of mischief you do, you can provide ideas, but it's up to him if he wants to use them. He's in charge."

"Deal-Deal!" Peeves floated up to Jack with an outstretched hand. "At least once a month. Hoggy Wartwards needs mischief every month. Recommended dose."

"That's a lot of work," Jack said, not taking the hand yet. "What do I get out of that?"

Peeves cackled. "Not work. Never work. Fun!" He floated closer and cupped Jack's hand in both of his in a gesture much gentler than Elsa would have imagined the mayhem spirit was capable of. His smile looked genuine this time.

"You get a spirit friend, wee one."

Jack shook the hand, his own smile growing as well. Of course, right when she thought he was maturing, he'd entered a deal that would lure him into even more childish behavior.

Elsa shook her head. She couldn't deny him the fun he was so clearly looking forward to, but deep down, she was jealous. Where was her spirit best friend? What type of spirit would be drawn to her moods?

Peeves bounced in the air and pointed at the end of the hallway. "Teacher alert! Teacher alert!"

They ran to safety, guided by the spirit of mayhem. They didn't get their answers today, but they gained a valuable ally. At least, she hoped that was what he was.

》《

Sunday morning, Merlin knocked on Dumbledore's door and waited to be invited.

"Come in."

He walked in and looked around if there was anyone there. He'd had enough gaffes recently.

"It's just us, my friend," Dumbledore said.

"Hi, Merlin," Heliotrope called from her portrait, and he politely waved back.

"Albus, I'd like to use your fireplace if you don't mind."

"Where are you off to now?" The Headmaster picked a record from his collection and put it on a magically powered turntable.

"I want to try something for Colin. It's a long shot but… I'll fill you in once I get back."

"Be my guest. How long will you be gone?" Dumbledore slowly motioned with his arm to the fireplace while jovial chamber music filled the room. Mozart, Merlin guessed.

"I'm unsure. Could be a few hours. I'll try to get back before my detention with Snape."

Albus looked down from his spectacles. His eyes were full of judgment. "What did you do?"

"Got myself in trouble, nothing new." Merlin winked.

He was glad that Dumbledore didn't ask him why he didn't just disapparate right from the spot. He didn't want to admit how weak the aging spell was making him. He relied on his reputation and the perception of unlimited power. If he didn't have that, he was just another nobody whose greatest bragging point was the ability to wake up from the dead.

He threw in the Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. The magic of the powder protected him from the flames but not the soot. At least he was prepared this time and wore dark robes. "Home."

He appeared in the large, clean fireplace he had built with his own hands. His home smelled familiar and inviting like a warm soup on a cold day. When he stepped in, lights flickered on in the lamps he had enchanted to sense his arrival. Everything looked just the way he'd left it, patiently waiting, ready to welcome him back.

Merlin had lived in this small cottage for several centuries now. He had to repair various parts of it over time and the walls were held together only by magic. It wasn't large or fancy but it was his, and it was more than just home. It was his archive and a vault. The wards he put on it guaranteed the safety of the precious keepsakes. To avoid hoarding, he limited himself to keeping only those items that held the best memories of the best people that passed through his unnaturally long life, but it was amazing how many things one could get emotionally attached to, given enough time.

He walked past a shelf where the oldest of those items sat, enclosed in clear magical boxes which emitted a faint glow. There was the royal seal of Pendragon, given to him by Gwen, the only memorabilia he had left of Arthur. The ring gleamed, and it felt as if it winked at him in recognition. There was a broken white shell from Lake Avalon, in memory of Freya, his first love. He hadn't seen her in a long time. He should visit her lake soon. And on the lower shelf was his first Grimoire passed on to him by Gaius when he was still a boy. He protected it as best he could but the pages inside were crumbling. He didn't dare to even touch it.

He used to have more keepsakes from times of Camelot, but they got lost in the clutches of time so he held on to these with reverent care. In fact, the boxes were enchanted so tightly that only he could touch them.

His fingers grazed the edge of the shelf and he noticed that a thick line of dust covered his treasures, so he promptly vanished it. He wanted to clean his whole house, it was sad to see it so stale, but he had limited time on his hands and couldn't waste it on sentimental cleaning.

On the wall, right above the stone fireplace, hung the staff of the Sidhe. He lingered while looking at it, wondering if he would need it. The aging magic was slowly draining him, making him weaker with each passing week and he still had several months to get through. He'd forgotten how bad holding the aging spell could get after a while. If this weakness continued getting worse, he was going to need an intervention, which he'd prefer to avoid.

The staff floated to his outstretched hand, and he gently traced the carvings he had put on it. Would he need it? He gripped the staff tighter. He couldn't afford to be weak. He didn't know what challenges awaited him, what type of monster the Chamber of Secrets contained, and it would be foolish to not use all tools available to him. All of those students relied on him. He needed all the magical help he could get.

He put the staff on the floor and held his hand over it. He struck it with a strong enchantment and felt the staff resist. It was difficult to transform an object this powerful, but he needed it to be small so he could take it anywhere.

After much effort, a blinding light filled the room, and Merlin covered his eyes. When the light dissipated and he blinked away the temporary blindness, a small blue crystal on a leather strap laid where the staff had been. Merlin tied it around his neck and covered it with his scarf. No one would notice that he acquired a new pendant.

Back in his bedroom, there was another ancient keepsake—a little dragon figurine, the one his father had given him. He touched it gently, feeling its familiar edges smoothed out by time. Should he bring it with him? He decided against it. It was safer here.

He went into a small library where he kept his precious volumes. Some were sacred texts he'd saved from destruction, others he wrote himself to pass on the knowledge he'd accumulated from his experiences. Any time he travelled to new places, he encountered different magic practices and tried to learn from them, translating their magic into his own. Over time, he'd collected a spell for everything, it seemed, but he couldn't possibly remember each.

Every few centuries, he sat down and rewrote each book. Even with protective magic, pages tended to disintegrate over time, and he wanted these words to last. He knew spells that could copy entire books within seconds, but he liked to do it by hand. It was his life's work to preserve Old Religion, to not let it fade into history.

He lit a small fireplace to chase away the chill and the room was illuminated with its warm glow. Since he had transcribed each of these volumes, he had an idea where to look. He pulled out several books and sat down behind his desk. To save time, he used his mind's eye to scan the books faster. There were quite a lot of spells he could try. He didn't want to bring the heavy volumes with him so he created replicas of the pages containing the spells and stacked them all up.

The fire crackled, calling his attention, and his eyes lingered on the glowing embers. He was enjoying himself. These books unearthed memories of places, events, and people he'd once known and cared about. Every page had a story.

He looked out the window and was startled by the dark skies. The large clock on the wall pointed to seven in the evening. He wasn't devastated at all about being late for detention, but he was late for supper! His child's body constantly demanded food. Thankfully, he could make a stop in the Hogwarts kitchens before going back to his dorm. He wasn't going to bed hungry.

Merlin finished his research and stepped into the empty fireplace in the sitting room with the copied pages in one hand and the Floo powder in the other, but then he hesitated. He wanted to stay home where it was quiet, safe, and calm, to sleep in his comfortable bed, and make his own meals. He didn't belong at Hogwarts among hundreds of those who could never know who he was, what he'd been through. His home knew. His home was his oldest friend.

Then, he remembered Colin laying stiff in the Hospital Wing and threw the Floo powder at his feet.

He came out of Dumbledore's fireplace, landing on all fours, spreading ashes around again. The Headmaster was sitting in an armchair near the fireplace, reading a book, and bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music.

Merlin scrambled on the floor. "Still listening to Mozart?"

Dumbledore looked down at him and smiled. "I'm glad you're back. For a moment, I worried if you gave me the slip."

Merlin shook the ashes off and smiled weakly. "It was tempting."

The old wizard noticed the pages he held.

"Spells," Merlin explained. "I want to see if I can revive Colin."

Dumbledore's eyebrows flew up. "Mind if I watch?"

"Let's go."