Letter of Acceptance

Convincing Severus had taken every ounce of his not inconsiderable ability. Dumbledore resisted the urge to spare the man a glance as they strode toward Hogsmead – they had set up an apparition point just outside the village. He knew Severus was perhaps the least apt person for this job. Cold, sarcastic, and unapproachable were not the qualities suited for breaking world changing information to an eleven year old.

Severus Snape was his spy, his confidante, and his healer. He might venture to consider the man his friend, but highly doubted that the sentiment was mutual. Loyalty, not friendship was what kept the bat at his side. But, that didn't stop the headmaster from entertaining the hope that one day, Severus might see him as a friend as well.

"And where," Severus asked, extending no effort to keep the displeasure from his tone, "are we expecting to find this boy?"

Dumbledore withdrew a bag of skittles from his pocket. The brilliant colored muggle candy was something he had recently become obsessed with. "Wool's Orphanage," he replied as he popped a lemon-flavored candy into his mouth. As he held the bag out to Severus in offering he added, "Would you care for—"

"No," Severus cut him off. He gave the bag one of his cold glares before looking straight ahead once more. They were almost at the gate. "Are you being purposefully vague?" he asked after a moment.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "I don't believe I have any idea as to what you are referring, Severus."

"Not once have you told me the boy's name." Severus raised an eyebrow, his lip curling. "You waited until now to tell me our destination. Might I expect the revelation that he is some ancestor of Slytherin as well, or do you take pride in keeping everyone around you completely ignorant?"

It was a mark of how accustomed Dumbledore had become to this mockery that he didn't find it offensive in the least. Instead, he merely sighed and stepped through the gate. "Why don't we find out?" he said with a small smile and he held out his hand, as though expecting Snape to shake it.

Severus rolled his cold black eyes, a resigned expression taking over the spiteful aggression that usually occupied his features. After a second's pause he took the headmaster's hand and they vanished with a crack.

They reappeared in an alleyway, one block down from the orphanage. Dumbledore, fully intent on striding into the street in his navy blue robes, stopped when Severus cleared his throat meaningfully. The headmaster glanced back, seeing that his colleague had already transformed his billowing black robes into a waistcoat and trousers.

"Ah, of course," he said and waved his wand over his wardrobe. Now donning a dark blue suit, Dumbledore stashed his wand in his sleeve and strode toward the orphanage.

While the world around it had changed substantially, Wool's Orphanage remained a picture of the past. The stone building still loomed over the street in the same imposing manner it had fifty years before, looking as unfavorable to live within as always. Someone had attempted to make it look more approachable by adding flowerbeds along the front. While somewhat curious about what the potions master thought of the place – Severus only knew of it from the stories – Dumbledore didn't glance at him. He could ask later. Thoughts of the boy they were about to meet filled his thoughts.

He rang the buzzer to the intercom.

Silence for a moment, then a young female voice said, "Hello, welcome to Wool's Orphanage. Do you have an appointment?"

Dumbledore smiled and put his finger on the reply button. "Could you tell the Matron Albus Dumbledore is here?" He clicked it off.

"Did you send them a letter ahead of time?" Severus asked from behind him. The man sounded highly skeptical – and for good reason.

"While I have managed to figure out how to work a buzzer, I am utterly confused by their postal system."

"You should have phoned, at the very least."

Dumbledore knew he was right. A pity he didn't quite understand how the telephone worked either. He was saved from replying when the woman on the other end of the phone returned. "She'll be right down."

"Thank you," he said and he took a step back. Severus was giving him one of those piercing glares, the kind that demanded to know the details of the situation. He got those quite often from Severus, come to think of it. Not a moment later the door was thrown open.

An elderly woman stood before them, kind brown eyes wide with shock. She took in both the men on her doorstep, positively staring at Albus. It took him a moment to recognize her as one of the young nurses that had been present fifty years ago.

"Hello," he greeted with a jovial grin. "I am Professor Dumbledore and this is Professor Snape." He gestured at the man in question. Severus gave a very stiff nod in reply.

"Martha Green," she replied. Her gaze snapped back to Dumbledore. "You've come to take another one to your school, haven't you?" She took a step back to let them in.

"My apologies Martha," Dumbledore said. "I hope this one hasn't been causing any problems around here." He didn't miss the way that Severus stiffened, as though paying the conversation a little too much attention.

The lady paused, thinking. "There have been a few incidents, now that you mention it. But," she added bracingly, "nothing like Tom, thank goodness. Speaking of which, what happened to that boy after he graduated?"

"He traveled," Dumbledore said, choosing each word with care. "Last I heard he was in Albania." To his great relief Martha didn't press the subject and instead nodded, leading them toward a reception room.

"You've remodeled," Dumbledore remarked softly, gazing around the room. The gray walls that he remembered had been covered with faded floral wallpaper. It was startling the difference it made, turning the cold gray into warm brown. The place had been arranged as one would expect a living room, a nice red and brown rug in the center. A coffee table sat in the center of the rug, surrounded by an assortment of couches and chairs.

"About twenty years ago," Martha said. She nodded toward a very antique looking couch, while taking a seat in an armchair herself. "Unfortunately, much will change again." The briefest expression of grief flashed across her face, before she shook herself. "But that is a conversation for another time. Would you like some tea? I can send for some."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Dumbledore could hear Martha in the hallway, asking one of her helpers to get some tea from the kitchen. Beside him, Severus tugged at the stitching on his waistcoat. The Potions Master wore a scowl, glaring at everything in the room as though it had done him a great injustice. Dumbledore wanted to say something to ease the tension in the air, but knew nothing he said would make the man relax. Thankfully, it was only a few minutes later that they were all sipping on cheap raspberry tea. Severus kept glancing at him impatiently. No doubt he was extremely aware of the headmaster's limited time and didn't want to be stuck explaining everything to the boy. Dumbledore sighed and returned his cup to its saucer. "Best get on to business then," he said.

"Shall I go get the lad?" Martha asked.

"You don't need his name?"

"I've always been proud of my intuition. He's a bit of an odd sort."

"Odd?"

And here Martha smiled fondly. The expression warmed her face, making her look several years younger. "There's… just something about him." She got to her feet. "I'll be back in a moment."

And then she was gone.

Dumbledore exchanged looks with Severus. Last time, the previous Matron had turned positively green at the mention of Tom. The stark contrast was so apparent that it floored him completely. And from the raised eyebrow his colleague shot him, he wasn't alone. Hearing footsteps out in the hallway, both men turned.

Accompanying Martha was a pale boy. Rather tall for his age, he had a mop of inky black hair and striking features. Handsome cheekbones chiseled his face, but they weren't what caught the headmaster's attention. Dumbledore had always taken pride in his twinkling blue eyes, but this boy put them to shame. His eyes were a rich navy color, like bottomless lakes of knowledge and experience, a sparkling sea of light – ancient and wise. They twinkled with humor, as though he were privy to a joke about the world and only he knew it.

"Hello," he greeted with a broad smile and a slight bow of his head. "I'm Merlin Evans."

Only A Boy

"Merlin, honey, there's someone who would like to meet you."

Merlin looked up from his game of Uno, confusion clearly written on his face. Who would want to meet him? He didn't know anyone in this time-period. He glanced at Silas. The two of them had become close since the nightmare a week ago, and it was only Silas who knew that it woke him every night. The other boys had begun to spread stories of a ghost breaking the glasses while they slept, whereas Silas seemed to think that Merlin kept knocking them over with his elbow.

"It's okay," Silas said with a smile. "We'll just skip you."

"You'll win!" Merlin said, frowning. Silas only had three cards left.

"Exactly." He grinned broadly, showing off a small chip in his front teeth. Merlin itched to do something about that—he remembered Gaius always cautioning to take care of one's teeth.

"This may take an hour or so," Martha hinted.

"Okay then, you get my cards," Merlin said, grinning and placing them in front of Silas. He got to his feet quickly, dodging nimbly out of the way when the boy tossed his cards back at him. He laughed, and noticed that Martha seemed to be hiding her amusement. Odd. She usually didn't approve of them making a mess.

He followed her to the reception room. He'd only been in there once before— to talk to some man about his past. They had needed to write up some kind of document, for record keeping they'd said. He knew that was where kids went to meet families they might be going to live with. He bit his lip, shoving his hands into his pockets. As nice as that would be, he didn't want to leave Silas alone in this place.

There were two men seated on the couch. One was extremely old and reminded him vividly of himself when had been pretending to be an eighty-year old warlock named Dragoon The Great. The only difference was the absence of blood-red robes. The other man struck Merlin immediately as a no-nonsense type. He had rather long oily black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin. It was obvious from the way that he was scowling that he didn't want to be there.

They stared wordlessly at him.

"Hello," Merlin ventured, allowing a smile to take his features. "I'm Merlin Evans."

He was used to the reaction he got from his name now, or at least, he thought he was. Usually, people just blinked and asked if he was serious before jumping into mentions of the Arthurian Legend or some film attempting to depict the story. They were never accurate. The older man seemed to have already known his name for he smiled warmly at Merlin, light blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. But, the other man… well, Merlin had never received a reaction quite like that.

Shock and anger flashed through the man's cold black eyes and he immediately turned to the older man, wearing such an aggressive expression on his face that Merlin wondered for a moment whether he was going to throttle the geezer. He didn't understand the reaction at all. Why would Merlin's name make him that angry?

"Is something wrong?" he asked, glancing from one to the other.

"Oh, nothing at all, Merlin," the older man said. "Please, have a seat. We have much to talk about. Martha, could we perhaps have some privacy?"

"Of course, Mr. Dumbledore." She left quickly and closed the door behind her. Merlin stood, hesitating, just inside the doorway for a moment longer before crossing over to one of the brown armchairs and taking a seat. He tried to not look as confused as he felt, and ended up settling his expression on mild curiosity.

"I am Albus Dumbledore," the older man introduced himself, smiling again. "This is Professor Snape."

"Professor?" Merlin repeated, now turning his attention to the sallow faced man. "Of what?"

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled. "That's why we're here. I am headmaster of the school where Professor Snape teaches. It's a school for gifted children, like yourself." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a roll of parchment. "Dear Mr. Evans," he read. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

It was like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over Merlin's head. He blinked, wondering if he had somehow misheard. "Sorry, what?" he asked, knowing his voice had cracked oddly. Hogwarts? As in, the school that Salazar and the others had come to him, asking to build? This was incredible. They'd actually succeeded. Thank the gods! It was almost too much for Merlin to process. Of course, Dumbledore assumed his shock was due to an entirely different reason.

"You're a wizard Merlin."

No, really? I hadn't noticed.

"How do you know?" Merlin asked slowly. He had done his best to keep his accidental magic under control – and failed, he knew that – but no one here knew of his abilities. How in the world had they found out? The professor, Snape, pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why don't you think about it?" he snapped a little more harshly than was needed. Dumbledore fixed him with a rather penetrating stare before turning back to Merlin.

"When you were angry or sad have you ever made something happen that couldn't be explained?"

Merlin frowned. "No – that's not what I mean. I mean, how do you know I'm a war—wizard?" They called it wizard, it would be odd to say warlock out of the blue.

Dumbledore was giving him the penetrating stare now. As though he was trying to see right through him. "So you have noticed it, then?" he said simply and Merlin bit his lip.

"Er," he fidgeted in his seat. "Yeah. I mean, it was hard not to notice." He hoped that was the right answer. The last thing he needed was for them to become really suspicious. Snape had stopped pinching his nose and was giving him a look that appeared to be grudging interest.

"Very curious. Did you tell anyone?"

"Of course not!" Merlin said a little too quickly. Both men were still staring at him. "What if—" He stopped short and swallowed. "What if they'd locked me up?" Or worse.

His sentence hung there in the air for a moment. From the look on both the men's faces, they completely understood, and for that Merlin was grateful. If anything, Dumbledore looked proud. He sat back slightly in his chair and took a slow sip of tea.

"Mr. Evans," Snape said, drawing his attention. "Do you know anything about your family?"

Merlin felt his gut clench, the same way it always did when he knew he was going to have to lie. "Not really. They're all dead."

"Do you remember if any of them were like you, a witch or wizard?"

Merlin paused a moment, wondering if it was all right to tell them. The question brought up a faded thought concerning blood purity. Was that why he wanted to know? He couldn't really see the importance of it.

"I don't know," Merlin said, frowning. "Does it matter?" Snape wasn't pleased by his answer. In fact, he looked frustrated by it. "So, how did you know?" Merlin went on when the silence started to drag on. He tried not to look at Snape, somehow feeling like he had unintentionally offended him.

"The Ministry of Magic has measures in place that detect magic in underage wizards," Dumbledore explained.

"Ministry of Magic?" Merlin repeated, his eyes growing wide.

"I'm sure you have several questions," the Headmaster smiled. "And I'll do my best to answer them all, but you must forgive me. I can only give you half-an-hour of my time, and then I must leave you."

Only A Boy

Merlin had asked as much as he dared. He asked about the creation of the Ministry of magic, the minister, and about how it worked. He asked about the different departments and how the wizarding world co-existed with muggles. He asked about various magical creatures and whether the dragons were still around. And, he asked about the creation of Hogwarts. At the same time, he tried not to appear too knowledgeable about the magical world. He threw in a few questions about magic in general just for good measure.

Dumbledore had just finished his explanation on the four Hogwarts houses when he glanced at his watch. "My apologies, Merlin," he said with another warm smile. "Professor Snape will answer any further questions you have. I must be off, I'm afraid." He stood and took out a long piece of wood from his sleeve.

"Is that… a wand?" Merlin asked, glancing toward Snape. The professor's lip curled.

"Yes."

Merlin blinked. Most wizards in his day preferred staffs or rings – things easier to pass off as normal. A wand just screamed wizard. Dumbledore smiled and waved it in the air. Immediately, Merlin felt the magic swirl around him. He could sense it in the air, as it shot out of the wand and onto the headmaster's clothing, which changed from the blue suit into flowing navy robes. Merlin felt himself grin. Now that style reminded him of home. It was almost a relief to see that some of the ancient styles were still in fashion so far in the future. He relaxed as the magic subsided.

"I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. He nodded to Snape. "Severus." And, with another wave of magic and a small crack, he disappeared.

The magic that Professor Dumbledore had used was very different than what Merlin was accustomed to. He could feel the difference between it and the magic of the Old Religion. And, if he interpreted the feelings and dreams that he got from the Earth, no one even knew how to use the ancient magicks anymore.

The reason he had come here was because someone was using it incorrectly.

Merlin turned to Snape, and tried not to fidget. The professor didn't seem to like him very much, from what Merlin could tell. He couldn't fathom why that was. Maybe he just didn't like kids all that much – or maybe he was just a clotpole. Merlin was growing a little annoyed by the perpetual sneer the man was giving him.

"Do you always look this annoyed?" he asked.

Immediately, he knew he had made a mistake. Merlin had never been very good with authority – he insulted the bloody King on a daily basis after all – and he often spoke without thinking. Judging by the look that Snape was giving him, Merlin wasn't sure he was going to live long enough to discover his new destiny.

"Were school in progress," Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, "you would find yourself scrubbing the floors of my potions classroom for an entire week. I do not tolerate insolent behavior of any kind, Mr. Evans. Do I make myself clear?" It didn't escape Merlin's notice that he tripped over his fake last name.

"Yes."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," repeated Merlin feeling every bit like the child that he looked like. He never thought he'd miss the days when Arthur was the only one he had to take orders from. Snape seemed satisfied, though he was still looking at Merlin as though he wanted to chop him up into potion ingredients.

"So, um…" Merlin wrung his hands. "Do you have a wand, sir?"

Snape looked at him as though he thought Merlin was being stupid on purpose. "Everyone has a wand."

"Oh." Merlin hesitated. "But do you need one?"

"One can learn how to do some wandless magic, but it takes years of study and effort. Many are never able to achieve it."

Merlin was confused. "But the accidental magic…"

Snape was pinching the bridge of his nose again. "That is instinctual magic. It responds to emotions and is just as volatile. Once a wizard learns how to control themselves and their magic, those incidents disappear. A wand is a tool to channel magic through, and for many, it's not worth the effort of going without."

Merlin nodded. It made sense he supposed, but knew it didn't apply to him. As that thought came to him, he blinked. "One of the boys here," he began slowly, "said that Merlin was a warlock. Is that just myth or—" he cut off embarrassed. It felt weird, talking about himself in the third-past tense.

"Merlin," Snape said sounding remarkably like Arthur when he was annoyed, "was the greatest wizard to ever live."

Merlin stared at him. That was the highest praise he had ever heard in his life. Sure, he had been praised back home, but hearing it from someone a thousand years in the future… well, he didn't know what to say.

"Because of your name," Snape continued, "it is possible you will encounter a lot of judgment from your peers." He didn't sound very sympathetic as he said this. "Merlin single handedly founded modern magical society."

"So," Merlin's throat had gone very dry, "does Camelot still exist? I mean, in the magical world?"

"No."

Merlin tried not to show how much this news pained him.

"It was lost not long after the death of King Arthur. It is believed that Merlin cast a spell to keep it hidden from the world."

"Why would he do that?"

Snape only offered a shrug. Well, that was frustrating. Merlin had no idea why he would do such a thing, unless he was worried about it falling into hands that would tarnish its reputation. He opened his mouth to ask about what had happened to Merlin in the end, but he stopped himself. He didn't want to know. Knowing too much about one's future could destroy it.

"Is that all the questions you have?"

No. Merlin had a million more, but he couldn't ask them. He wasn't supposed to know anything. "No, sir," he said before immediately changing his mind. "Actually yes. Where is Hogwarts?"

"Somewhere North." Snape sighed at the raised eyebrow Merlin gave him. "It's enchanted so that no one can stumble across it. It's in Scotland."

"Oh." Good idea. He would have to drop the hint to the founders when he got back to his own time, if they hadn't thought of it already.

"Now, we will move on to more pressing matters," Snape said getting to his feet. He withdrew a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Merlin. "On that slip of paper is a list of all the equipment you will need for school."

Merlin perused the list, his frown growing more prominent with every line. "Sir?" he asked looking up. "How do I pay for all this?"

"That, brings us to our next topic of discussion. Normally, we would have your parent or guardian sign registration papers but, given the circumstances… Without a magical guardian, we will need to visit the Ministry of Magic and get you formally registered as a member of the magical community and apply for ministry funding. As such, you will be claimed as an Ward by the institution of Hogwarts, until you come of age or guardianship changes."

"Oh." There was a lot of that he didn't understand at all. "When would we go?"

Snape strode toward the door and opened it. "Now. The application may take a few days to process and we can't get your equipment without it."

Merlin didn't hesitate to follow him out the door.

Only A Boy

"Would it be all right to tell a muggle that I'm a warlock?"

"I beg your pardon?"

They were walking along a corridor within the Ministry of Magic, having just gotten off the lift. In billowing black robes that only served to make him even more imposing, Professor Snape turned around to glare at Merlin—who wondered whether the man knew how to do anything other than glare.

"There's a boy I'm good friends with at the orphanage," Merlin explained, feeling a little awkward. He glanced down at his feet. "I just hoped I didn't have to lie to him about what's going on with me anymore."

"The Statue of Secrecy is in place in order to keep peace between our two cultures. What will you do if he tells everyone about your abilities?"

Merlin looked up at him. "He wouldn't do that."

"Oh, because you know him so well?" Snape sneered back.

"No. Because he hasn't told anyone that I have—" He cut off. He didn't want the professor to know about the dreams with green light. "Never mind. I get it."

Didn't mean he agreed with it.

"Now, when we get to the registration department I expect you to behave."

"Yes, sir."

"Only speak when spoken to. I'll not have that insolent tongue of yours causing any trouble." Snape paused then turned abruptly down a different hallway. He opened a door on the left and strode forward first, not bothering to check if Merlin was following. Merlin had started chewing his cheek. Every insult he had ever dished out to King Arthur was running around in his mind. Snape was a prat. And he wasn't even a royal one. It seemed almost unjust that Merlin couldn't tear him a new one. He sighed and followed him into the room.

"Welcome to the Department of Witch and Wizard Registration," said a witch at the front desk. "How can I help you?" She smiled down at Merlin, and he returned the gesture.

"I need official registration via the Foundling Act for Mr. Evans." So he was generally displeasing to everyone he met, not just him. The secretary looked a little taken aback.

"Go back to cubical seven. Mr. Marks will be able to assist you."

"Thank you," Snape said curtly and he swept down the hall.

Merlin looked around eagerly as he followed the professor. The place appeared to be utterly chaotic, but he could see systems of organization popping out randomly. The cubicles were the strangest shapes, looking as though someone had just smashed them together and hoped for the best. There were floating florescent numbers above each one. Near the back they found cubical seven and were greeted by a very thin man who was trying to ignore the fact that he was balding with a wig.

"Hello," he greeted. Merlin noticed that he had pronounced circles under his eyes. "How can I help you?"

"I need to officially register Mr. Evans as a member of the magical community."

"Ah, an orphan are we?" the man said looking at Merlin now.

"Yes."

"That's easy enough. Just give me your name and date of birth." Mr. Marks summoned a parchment before him, and dipped a quill into ink.

"Merlin Evans. July—"

"Wow, your parents were indeed hopeful!" the guy interrupted. Merlin's eyes narrowed.

"I doubt they realized the significance of the title," he snapped back before he could stop himself. He cringed and risked looking up at Snape. To his surprise though, the professor only seemed mildly irritated by his outburst. He wasn't even looking at him, gazing around the boring office with a scowl.

Mr. Marks laughed nervously. "Right, sorry. No middle name?"

"No."

"Okay, continue."

"July 31, 1980."

The guy nodded. "What were your parents' names?"

Merlin had no idea how to answer that question. Hunith and Balinor weren't exactly common names in this time period. There was also the possibility that someone would recognize them from Arthurian legend. "John and Grace," he said making up the names on the spot.

"Were they muggles?"

"I don't know. They died a long time ago."

The guy nodded and Merlin saw him check off a box labeled unknown. "Okay, Mr. Evans I think that's everything. Your file will automatically update with any new information." And he grabbed a large stamp from a drawer, and practically slammed it onto the document.

"Thank you," Snape said with the same cold tone as he had used with the secretary and then he steered Merlin out of the office.

"Why do they even need a form?" Merlin asked puzzled. "I thought they already knew I was a wizard."

"Usually the wizarding community will simply absorb any records that already exist in the muggle world. We have the parents and the child sign off on the accuracy of the form without ever having to come near this infernal office. For some reason, you, Mr. Evans, did not have any such paperwork. The automated system by which names appear on the Hogwarts roster is due to very old and complicated magic that I can't even begin to understand."

"Oh." It was probably a good thing that the professor was leading the way as Merlin was having trouble keeping the dawning realization from his face. Had the old magic itself had put Merlin's name on the roster? If that were the case, it seemed that whatever imbalance had brought him to this time was occurring at the school. Or at least, he was meant to go there.

Snape led the way back to the lift and they went up another floor. Merlin didn't like it at all. It was cramped and the sensation of movement left him feeling unbalanced. He didn't miss the way that Snape looked at him, as though the professor was amused by his discomfort. He all but ran out of the contraption when they stopped.

"Doesn't this place have stairs?" he asked gruffly as Snape took the lead once more.

"No."

Merlin managed to hold the vulgar swear in his mind.

"Through here," Snape said pushing open a door to another office. It was very cramped in this one. Several of the paper memos that Merlin had seen on the lift were darting around the ceiling. There was one disgruntled looking man at a desk, poring over a file. He was large, with bushy sideburns, and dull green eyes.

He looked up when they walked in. "Welcome to the Department of Finance for Wizard Incapables," he said in the most apathetic tone Merlin had ever heard. "What can I do for you today?"

"Mr. Evans requires funding for wizarding orphans," Snape replied coldly. Merlin hoped they finished this quickly. Snape was sounding crankier the longer they stayed in this place and he was having difficulty keeping himself from snapping insults the man. It was doing odd things to his magic as well. It kept swirling within him, threatening to shake the shelves and scatter papers.

That definitely wouldn't be good.

It took them nearly ten minutes to file the paper work, not because there were a lot of questions, but because the man wrote unbearably slow. And the questions were really just about how much funding Merlin would need, and whether he actually needed it. No wonder it would take a few days for it get filed, Merlin thought, if the man took forever to do it. Snape didn't seem to be in a good mood either, so he decided against asking him any questions until they had gotten back to the lift.

"Sir?"

Snape grunted to show that he was listening.

"Is that everything? Are you taking me back to Wool's now?"

"Yes."

Merlin nodded, wringing his hands again. "Um… how will I know about the funding?"

"You'll receive a card by post."

"Okay." Another pause. "Where do I go to buy my stuff?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose again. Merlin had the feeling he was irritating the professor with all his questions, but he really did need to know. "Diagon Alley. I'll come back after you have received your confirmation of funding to take you there." The lift door opened before them and Merlin stopped asking questions when several other witches and wizards joined them.

He really couldn't stand the blasted contraption.

They had been moving again for only a moment when the elevator jerked unceremoniously. Had Merlin been paying attention, he might have realized that it was no cause for concern. No one else was acting as though the jolting was anything out of the ordinary. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm and fight back the panic that was threatening to overcome him.

The elevator jerked again and came to an abrupt stop.

"What the—?"

"Oh great, maintenance has been slacking."

"I've got a meeting in five minutes!"

As the other people in the elevator started filling the elevator with their upset musings, Merlin started feeling claustrophobic. He felt as though the walls were pressing in on him. It was becoming difficult to breathe and his magic was fighting to react against the threat. He wasn't aware he was shaking until he felt a hand grip his shoulder very tightly.

"You," Snape muttered in his ear in that voice of deadly calm, "need to calm down."

If anything, that only made it worse. The floor began to shake, the memos in the air above them fell to the ground. The hand on his shoulder relaxed a little.

"Everything is fine." The professor actually sounded strained, saying something that was supposed to be calming. It didn't suit him at all. Merlin focused on that, trying to amuse himself with it. "Take a deep breath."

Merlin sucked in a deep gulp of air, closing his eyes. After a moment the elevator jerked down again, moving back on its intended trajectory. Snape didn't take his hand off Merlin's shoulder until they came to their stop and disembarked. He almost pushed Merlin off the platform and into the entry hall. Before he'd had time to turn around, the professor had taken his elbow in an ironclad grip and was steering him toward an unoccupied corner.

"Explain," he spat spinning Merlin around to look at him. Snape's face was white, his lips curled in all out snarl.

"I—I—" Merlin swallowed. "I didn't mean too—"

"So I gathered," Snape interrupted. "I would, however, like to know why you neglected to mention your obvious lack of impulse control."

"I just panicked."

"Obviously."

"I've never been in a lift before!"

"You—what?" Snape blinked. He seemed to deflate slightly, though still managed to maintain the look of utter loathing that seemed to be his specialty.

Was that so odd? "I just… didn't get out much," Merlin said wincing as the words left his mouth. It felt like a really pathetic excuse, but it was the only one he had. Snape sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted. After a moment he took his arm again, and lead him back to the telephone booths they had used to get inside.

"Let's get you back to Wool's before you ruin someone else's day."