Happy Birthday

"What… just happened?"

Merlin could hear his heartbeat flutter with panic. A rabbit thudding a melody in his chest. He tried to calm down, tried to tell himself that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all the water to suddenly vanish. But he didn't have one. He couldn't move, sitting frozen on the hard linoleum floor.

"I—"

He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down now. The panels of light above the mirrors started to quiver, and their brightness waxed and waned. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep, calming breaths but his racing thoughts made it difficult. This wasn't good. Actually, this was a complete disaster. Even if Silas didn't notice the water evaporating, the lights were kind of hard to miss.

"Merlin, are you—"

His eyes shot open. All the composure he had managed to grasp fell through his fingers and one of the light bulbs exploded with a loud pop. Silas managed to strangle a yell of surprise, but Merlin was already scrambling to his feet. He had to get out of here—he had to get away from the onslaught of magic. He had broken the Statue of Secrecy so badly, the ministry had to be on their way. What would happen when they got here? Would they throw him into a dark cold dungeon or just execute him? He never did ask what was the punishment for revealing magic.

Merlin was halfway to the door when something warm and comforting seized him around the middle, forcing him to stop. Silas had hugged him.

"It's okay."

In what universe was this okay?!

He wanted to run, but the small hands tightened. "I promise I won't tell anyone you can do magic. I—" Silas swallowed. "I'll keep it a secret. Please don't go. Don't—"

"Silas," Merlin finally choked out. "I can't breathe." Silas had started squeezing him so tightly that all the air had been pushed out of his lungs. Sometimes he forgot that he was just a little kid too, and that these hands were only slightly smaller than his own. Silas let go.

"Sorry! I didn't realize—"

Merlin released a breath of shaky laughter. He let the gravity of the earth pull him to his knees. He was glad that Silas was behind him, so that he couldn't see the shinning in his eyes. Gods, he had no control over his emotions, did he? This kid, this young child had known him barely two months. Arthur had taken over a year to start trusting him and confiding in him and he'd never dared to expose his secret even then. But this little kid, his new brother…

"Merlin," and he felt a hand on his shoulder. "If—" and he heard Silas' voice crack. "If you have to, you can wipe my memory, c-can't you? You don't have to leave. You could make me forget—"

"You," Merlin interrupted softly, "—you don't hate me for hiding this from you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then… don't forget." Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat.

"But—"

"You said you're okay with it, aren't you?"

"Well yeah…"

"Then nothing else really matters does it?" Will had known about his magic, Gaius, Freya, and they had all kept the secret for him. In fact, he wasn't sure he would have been able to handle the weight of his destiny if they hadn't. He needed someone to know. "You are not allowed to forget, all right? Never."

Silas didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, and with an air of blinding happiness, "I won't."

Merlin discreetly wiped his eyes on his sleeve, he didn't want Silas to know he'd actually cried – how lame. He turned around, and saw that Silas was kneeling on the ground too. His hazel eyes were large and his face was shamelessly wet. He stared at Silas, before trying to touch the damp spots on his shoulders.

"Were you crying into my shirt?" he asked, astonished.

Silas jutted forth his chin in a childish pout. "I thought you were going to run away from Wool's, okay? I didn't want to lose another brother."

Merlin blinked. "I—I didn't know you had a brother." Silas had never even mentioned his family before, let alone a sibling.

Silas was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Not anymore." Then he gave a very sad smile. "You remind me of him, you know?"

"I do?"

"Yeah."

"How so?"

But Silas only shrugged and Merlin knew the subject was closed. In any case, there was something more important on his mind. He turned his attention to the door, narrowing his eyes. He would have thought members from the ministry to be here by now. Did that mean they weren't coming? Had they not been able to detect his burst of accidental magic?

"Do you think someone heard the light bulb explode?" Silas asked him, following his gaze.

"No, it's not that." Then Merlin paused and turned back to him. "By the way, how did you know that what I can do is magic and not this… telek—thingy?"

"Telekinesis?" Silas supplied. "Maybe because you can't even say the word?"

Merlin frowned. "I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Silas…"

The kid grinned his wide tooth-chipped smile. "Okay, okay." And he brought his hand to rest under his chin. "I suppose, it's because of your name. Magic just makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Anyway. Since we're stuck here for at least another hour – the janitor would know something's up if we finished this early – I have a ton of questions for you."

Only A Boy

Severus Snape was brewing potions.

True, that particular pastime was nothing extraordinary, or even remotely abnormal. In fact, one might even say that it was his natural state of existence – of course they'd be wrong, but he could see how such an assumption could be made. He was the Potions Master, after all. But no, contrary to popular belief, he did not like to spend all his free time chopping rat spleens and crushing centipedes. He would much rather occupy his time with a good book and his favorite scotch.

But life was unkind like that.

Today, he was brewing several headache tonics. He had the feeling he was going to need them for tomorrow's excursion. He did know that it was the boy's birthday, and was not ignorant of the fact that the child may have wanted to spend it some other way than with a very strict professor. After their trip to the Ministry, he had come to dislike young Mr. Evans very much, even if he found the boy intriguing at the same time. He was both a painful reminder of the past and a smartass. But, as such, his schedule provided no other time for the task. Students would be arriving in a month and he needed to stock up the infirmary with potions, prepare lesson plans, and run more than one errand for The Headmaster.

His duties as a spy were not yet over.

So, fairly certain the Evans boy would kick up a fuss over being stuck with him for the day – and that he would get himself into all manner of trouble – a few headache soothers were definitely going to be needed. He paused, having capped a third dose in a small glass vial. Perhaps it would not be unwise to also brew a calming draft. He didn't want the kid panicking again like that time at the Ministry.

He sighed and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. Dumbledore wanted him to pick up the Philosopher's Stone from Gringotts tomorrow, too. He'd offered to send Hagrid instead but Snape had put his foot down. He wasn't going to trust the blundering giant with something as important as the Stone. But the roller coaster of Gringotts was a nightmare, and certainly more terrifying than any lift.

"Maybe I'll just leave him at Madam Malkin's while I collect it," he mused aloud. That way he wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable panic-attack.

A fluttering of wings intruded upon his thoughts as an owl soared through the open office door. He kept it open during the summer, just in case one of these creatures felt the need to deliver a message that simply couldn't wait till he was in the Great Hall – which was surprisingly often. Sighing, wondering which pureblooded parent it was this time, he approached the tawny owl and took the letter.

What on earth?

The logo of the Ministry of Magic was on the back. For a second, he stared at it. He hardly ever got letters from them; maybe Lucius had decided to use his work postage? Frowning – mostly because that was extremely unlikely – he opened the envelope.

Professor Severus Snape,

It is necessary to inform you that Mr. Merlin Evans has gained a family member. Paperwork binding him and a Mr. Silas Meadowes was submitted via Wool's Orphanage earlier today, and they will later be sent to a muggle foster home. Please advise Mr. Merlin Evans that the Statue of Secrecy does not extend to family relatives, but to execute caution. Mr. Silas Meadowes must similarly be advised – if told – of the law as he will be held accountable for it.

Please inform them they must not divulge the existence of magic to their foster parents – we are searching for wizarding fosters to send them to as soon as possible. Please note our pool of availabilities is currently non-existent, and we are waiting for one to open.

This information was sent to you, via suggestion from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and not to Mr. Merlin Evans due to the high probability of muggle interference.

Kristine Jenkins

International Confederations of Wizards, British Office

Great. Just great. Now he had something else to add to his never ending list of chores. He glared hard at the letter, firmly deciding not to mention this to the boy in question until after their shopping trip – he wasn't going to take both of them to Diagon Alley. There wasn't enough headache tonic in the world to make that even remotely enjoyable.

Meadowes…

The name sounded familiar for some reason, but Snape couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe he'd bring it up to Albus, ask if he'd heard of it before. He shook his head and made his way over to his store cupboard, grabbing materials he'd need in order to brew a simple calming draught. Now that he thought about it, the boy had asked about sharing his secret with someone. It was hard to believe that he'd want to share it with anyone else. He might have all ready done it – even though he'd told him not too. Children were often stupid like that, and the Ministry wouldn't have picked up on it because they were now "relatives" or some such nonsense.

He set the ingredients onto the table a little harder than necessary. He wasn't upset about the boy breaking the Statute – if he had, of course – he'd be upset that he'd directly disobeyed him.

Not a great way for Merlin Evans to get on his good side.

Only A Boy

It was several hours later when the janitor came in to tell them to leave for dinner that Silas finally stopped asking questions. He'd been nearly as energetic as Merlin when it came to the magical world. Of course, there were still tons of things that Merlin didn't know about. They'd had fun speculating, wondering about the world of magic that resided just under the commoner's nose.

Merlin hadn't mentioned his real identity of course. And not just because he knew how insane it would sound—but there was power in secrecy, and with only the dimmest idea of why he had arrived in the modern era, he needed to play everything close to the vest. Merlin needed to be invisible. At least, for now.

"So, this ministry, right?" Silas was saying in an undertone as they walked into the cafeteria. "Why do you think they didn't, I dunno, swoop down on you the instant you did magic?"

Maybe it was a different type of magic than they're used to.

"Maybe they were on a coffee break?"

Silas snorted, earning a few curious looks in their direction. Merlin smiled too, and glanced at what the cooks had prepared. Meatloaf. How predicable. They seemed to make it twice, if not three times, a week. At least the salad looked interesting, with spinach, pecans, and tangerines. The other kids thought he was nuts, liking the salads. But back at Camelot, they hadn't had dressing, and it was quickly becoming his new addiction.

Indeed, he smothered his meatloaf and salad with the dressing. Silas only glanced at him before piling his own plate. He'd gotten used to it by now, though the first time he'd been more than eager to point out how weird he was.

"Do you think that maybe it's because they joined our files, or whatever?" Silas asked.

"Oh, yeah." Merlin hadn't even thought of that. "You mean, it's okay because we're sort of family now?"

"Sort of?"

"You know what I mean!"

Silas smiled again. "I know, I know," he said in between bites. "But yeah. Do you think it's possible?"

"Sure, I guess." But Merlin would've thought they'd still come after him. Hadn't Snape said something about magic not being allowed outside of Hogwarts? Sure, accidental magic happened – it was accidental. But—ugh, he was just going to have to ask the professor tomorrow. That promised to be a fun conversation.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?"

"I told you two weeks ago, I don't really care." Merlin took a sip of water. "Isn't it a little late to be asking me, anyway? I thought we were celebrating it tonight."

"We are! But, now that you're going to be gone most of tomorrow I have time to get you something better."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Silas, you don't have any money."

Silas merely shrugged. "C'mon, there has to be something."

"Well…" Merlin took another bite of salad and chewed slowly, giving himself time to think. Was there anything he really wanted? He couldn't help but think that this whole experience in modern times would be more fun with Arthur to make fun of, but that was obviously not an option. He wanted to talk to Freya again, even if it was just in the reflection of a pool of water. He wanted to remember all that his mind kept from him, remember more about the Hogwarts founders. He wanted to know who was twisting the magic of the earth, and how he should fix it. He wanted Kilgharrah to give him a riddle that would solve all his problems.

But for right now, he wanted…

"A new scarf."

"Clothes. You want clothes, seriously? Not an enormous chocolate bar?"

Merlin laughed. "You asked, but I know what to get you now." Having finished his plate, he dumped seconds of the salad onto it.

Silas shrugged. "Er… okay then." Merlin saw him screw up his eyes, as though trying to plan something out. "What color?"

He was wearing his red one, and he really didn't need a second one of the same color. He thought about saying blue – he'd had a blue one back at Camelot. But, the image of the man with the sly smile and the blue snake popped into his mind.

"Green." He smiled. "I'd like a dark green one."

Silas looked a little doubtful. "Okay, but don't be upset if you open your present and see a chocolate bar instead."

"Okay, okay." Merlin laughed. "So how are we celebrating my birthday tonight if I'm not getting my present?" He glanced around at the kitchen doors. "Or a cake, I'm assuming."

Silas grinned broadly.

"What?"

Only A Boy

"I was going to save this until tomorrow night, but midnight is technically your birthday too right? Actually, it might even be better this way."

"I can't believe this. How did you get them?"

"I've been saving up for the last six months – originally I was going to do it for New Years or something." Silas shrugged. "But I say this is money well spent."

"I'll say."

"Okay, so... what does the clock say?"

"Two more minutes."

Silence.

"Hey, Silas?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, you know. For everything."

He gave a wide cheesy smile. "You too." He took a deep breath. "Time?"

"Now."

There was some scuffling as Silas moved in the darkness, the smell of wick burning, smoke curling in the air. "Five—" They stumbled several feet back.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two—"

"We're going to get in so much trouble for this."

"—One!"

BOOM!

And as the clock struck midnight, the sky exploded in a brilliant burst of cackling color. A second shot thundered through the sleeping city, vibrant blue and green sparks scaring the sky. Merlin and Silas laid down flat on their backs, staring up at the sky and cheering as firework after firework shot high into the air. The muck on the roof was sinking into the back of Merlin's shirt, making it stick to his skin, but he didn't care.

"Happy birthday, Merlin."

And it was the best birthday he'd ever had in his life.

Merlin smiled so widely that he thought he was going to rip his cheeks, but he couldn't help it. Above the display continued, as the cake emptied its contents into the sky with ear bursting bangs. Showers of white sparks popped like popcorn, and then – much too soon – it was over.

The night was silent once more.

"Okay, let's get down before—"

"MERLIN!"

Both boys froze, halfway in the act of climbing back over to the ledge and the window just below it. They looked at each other, Merlin blinking as splotches of color mosaic made it difficult to focus on Silas's dark face.

"I think Martha is going to kill us."

"You mean, you."

"It was your firework!"

"It's your birthday."

Merlin sighed and started to make his way across the roof. They might as well get down. Heaven forbid she called a fire truck and had them carried down. He gripped the ledge tightly and lowered himself, one foot searching below for the ledge of the windowsill. After a moment's strain, he found it and let go, jumping through the open window. He was greeted by a rush of applause and cheers as the other boys smacked him on the back – or laughed and told him how dead he was. He turned around in time to see Silas's foot peak over the edge and he grabbed at it and lowered it to the ledge.

"Merlin!"

He didn't turn around, but he felt a pair of furious eyes on the nape of his neck. After he helped Silas inside, he turned around and hurriedly wiped his slime-covered hands on his pants.

"Yes?" he asked as innocently as was possible.

Martha – in a hairnet and blue nightgown this time – seemed to actually swell as rage filled her. For the next half hour, she shouted herself hoarse at the pair of them. Everything from "you could have been injured" to "it's not a bloody holiday." Merlin tried to look regretful, but he couldn't. And, at quarter to one, Martha gave up.

"Merlin that Professor called me while you were cleaning the bathroom and told me about your letter." She narrowed her eyes. "But when you get back tomorrow, you are going to join Silas on becoming reacquainted with the floors, the toilets, and anything else I think needs scrubbing!"

"Yes, ma'am," Merlin said, finally managing to stop smiling. Not that he was particularly upset about the punishment – it couldn't be worse than working for Arthur, after all.

"Both of you get to sleep, now."

And she left them there. After a moment, Silas nudged him playfully. "She'll cool down after a day or so."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, she likes you too much. Did you see that smile she was hiding the entire time she shouted at us?" Silas yawned, not bothering to cover it with his hand. "Anyway, she has a point. Tomorrow you're getting your school supplies, and I don't think this Snape person will be lenient if you're late."

Only A Boy

Merlin was actually a little nervous.

He hadn't slept in and was ready to go when the professor arrived, but Martha had taken him to her office for a "private conversation" and Merlin was fairly certain he knew the topic. They'd been in there only five minutes but time was doing something strange, and every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, the professor emerged. He was dressed in that black waistcoat that Merlin had first seen him in. Severus Snape shot him a glance and Merlin managed not to recoil at the look of utter loathing reflected in those pitiless black eyes. Okay, so he was furious with him – something to be expected. Merlin couldn't help but feel a little resentful toward Martha.

She shouldn't have told him.

Snape jerked his head toward the door and swept through it, not bothering to wait for him. Wishing he could throw some smartass remark – but not daring too – Merlin followed. And for a moment they walked in silence, Merlin several feet behind him. When they had rounded the corner from Wool's Snape stopped and turned around.

"Mischief like that," Snape said, his lip curling, "is not tolerated at Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly." Like that's ever stopped me before. "Sir."

The professor glared at him, making Merlin wonder whether or not Snape had heard his unspoken retort. But he would never know for sure as the man turned away and started walking again. Merlin followed him, unable to keep himself from staring at the cars that passed them by.

"How are we going to get there? To this, Diagon Alley I mean?" Merlin asked. He couldn't take the silence anymore. Were they going to walk all the way there? He wasn't exactly against the idea – walking for kilometers came easy to him – but he had hoped to be back at Wool's by the night. Just as he finished his sentence, the professor turned down an alley. Perplexed, Merlin followed him and watched as he took out his wand and changed his clothing back to billowing black robes.

So much more fitting, if Merlin did say so himself.

"We're going to take the Knight Bus."

And from the look on the professor's face, Merlin knew that he wasn't going to enjoy this at all. The professor held out his wand hand. There were a deafening bang and an enormous vibrantly purple triple-decker bus materialized before them. Merlin started at its sudden appearance, earning a raised eyebrow from Snape. The doors to the bus opened and a conductor jumped down.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus. I'm Sylvester Harris, and I'll be your conductor today."

Snape scaled the bus first, withdrawing something from his pocket and handing it to Harris, saying something about a trip to the Leaky Cauldron. Merlin hovered outside for a moment, somewhat nervous.

"C'mon, boy," Snape spat, apparently having grown impatient at his dawdling. Merlin quickly jumped on board, glancing warily around the metal box. It was cramped, and inside were rows of chairs. It was sparsely occupied though; one bored looking businessman at the back and a wizened witch reading the newspaper behind the driver.

"Sit down!" the professor snapped and he grabbed Merlin's sleeve, flinging him into one of the chairs. Merlin clenched the sides of the chair tightly. He could feel the magic in the air, in the chair he sat on. The entire bus was enchanted, and he could feel it like static electricity, brushing against his skin. He expected the bus to take off smoothly, slowly – like the cars he'd seen getting out of the driveway back at Wool's.

Yeah, wishful thinking.

The Knight Bus shot forward with another loud bang, and the next minute they were speeding into oncoming traffic. Merlin decided to shut his eyes, his knees shaking as they jerked, stopped, and then shot forward again. This was so much worse than any lift! A particularly bad jolt sent his chair skidding several feet forward and Merlin's eyes shot open, a wave of magic rising up to stop him from colliding with another chair.

Trying not to hyperventilate, he turned to look at Snape. He was unprepared for the thoughtful expression the man wore.

"What?" he asked, trying to glare but knowing that his eyes were full of anxiety.

"You've never ridden in a car." It wasn't a question.

"This," Merlin said through gritted teeth, "contraption is not a car. This is a steel deathtrap." They jerked again and Merlin's magic threatened to break out once more. "How much longer?"

"We're next."

"Okay, but can we walk back? Or can we ap—poof." Merlin bit his tongue. He hadn't asked them about apparition. He shouldn't know about it. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Poof?" the professor repeated, as though he was speaking to someone of inferior intelligence. "I highly doubt that you will find that mode of transportation more to your liking if a little," and here the professor smirked, "turbulence causes your accidental magic to flare. I'd rather not get splinched."

"Splinched?"

"Apparition," Snape said delicately, "is a difficult practice, and one can accidentally ah—leave part of themself behind."

"Oh." He had called it messing up but splinched worked too. He had apparated himself though, and though it wasn't comfortable, he preferred it to this. He frowned, wondering if there was a way to convince the professor to do it anyway but ultimately decided against it. It'd be weird to press the matter.

"The Leaky Cauldron," A voice called through the bus. Merlin was on his feet and out the door before Snape this time, stumbling in his haste to get off the bus. Instantly, his attention was drawn to a buzz of magical activity. The Leaky Cauldron was a small place, and rather unnoticeable – save for the magic rolling out of it in waves. It calmed his jittery nerves.

He glanced toward Snape. "I thought you said Diagon Alley, though?" He asked confused.

Snape's lip curled again, like Merlin was asking an annoying question. "Just follow my lead," he said icily and he led the way into the pub.

It was dark inside. It filled Merlin's nostrils with the familiar scent of ale and beer, polished wood, and musky wines. It reminded him a little of the tavern back at Camelot, though the wood had a different scent here. He glanced around at the patrons; one witch was smoking a pipe. The bartender merely nodded as they passed, but then something made Merlin stop dead.

Snape hadn't realized – he was still walking ahead of him. Merlin didn't care though. Slowly, he turned around and caught sight of a young man with a turban standing in the back corner. As he stared at him, the young man felt his eyes and looked up at him. There was something wrong about that man. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the pulse of magic that emanated from him felt… sick.

He felt a hand close on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. "What," Snape asked him, his voice one of deadly calm, "are you doing?"

Merlin didn't even glance at him. "Who is that man?"

There was a moment's pause. "That is… Professor Quirrell, he teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts." From the way that Snape spoke, Merlin was fairly certain he didn't like him much. And, strangely, Merlin agreed with him. Quirrell looked up again and this time gave a wave and very nervous smile. "You will get enough of his idiocy at Hogwarts, I don't have all day to entertain your every impulse."

Snape's hand tightened to the point that it hurt and steered Merlin away from Quirrell and through the pub to a back alley with a solid brick wall and several dustbins. Snape let go of him there and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Staring is hardly a polite behavior, the turban may be more ethnic than you—"

"I wasn't staring at his turban," Merlin interjected, frowning. He'd seen stranger, after all.

"Do not interrupt me while I am speaking," Snape bit sharply. Merlin clamped his lips together, recognizing the signs of a man loosing his patience. And, though Snape didn't have any goblets to throw at him, he did have a wand. "Now, when we go into Diagon Alley I'm not going to be able to watch your every move. I have errands of my own to run. You will not do anything except get all the materials on your school list—" He withdrew a sheet of parchment from his cloak and handed it to him. "You will not create a ruckus, leave the main street, or burden the other shoppers with improper manners."

"Yes, sir," Merlin said though he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Snape gave him a hard look before taking out his wand and tapping a few bricks on the wall. Merlin watched as they moved out of their way, folding into a doorway. He gasped as the wave of energy hit him, a concentration of magic far greater than he had ever felt before. It made his fingers tingle slightly. So many different wizards, witches, and enchantments were all in the same place.

It was beautiful.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."