What Was Lost

"Mr. Evans, stop gawking and follow me. You'll have plenty of time to observe the wonders of the magical community after we get your allowance."

"Right, sorry." Merlin shook himself and rushed to catch up with the spectral bat, weaving through the crowd of shoppers as he stared around the alley.

To see a magical community thriving and flourishing like this, well, it made his chest feel warm. Though he had one strange memory of the Hogwarts Founders appearing in his room, he couldn't remember living in Albion. He couldn't remember a time where people lived happily with magic. And though there were two worlds now, split by a curtain, he didn't worry about discovery. Silas had accepted him wholeheartedly, and he was sure the Ministry wouldn't allow knowledge of magic spread.

It was a rare comfort.

Thwack.

Merlin collided with something and stumbled back, rubbing his forehead. "S—sorry!"

"Watch it!"

The woman he'd hit stalked off, Merlin shouting another apology after her. It wasn't like he'd meant to hit her – she'd stopped abruptly in front of him! He sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked ahead.

Oh no.

Where was the bat?! Merlin blinked, and tried to stand on his tiptoes. He really missed his height. He couldn't see over the heads of the people in front of him, and Snape's back had vanished from view. What kind of a guardian was he? Did he even notice that Merlin had been caught in the crowd? He jumped and thought he saw that oily-head go round the corner. Feeling a little panicky—it wasn't like he had any idea where to go—he tried to catch up. Pushing his way through the crowd, muttering apologies to the people he bumped, he came around the corner breathing heavily.

And the professor was nowhere in sight.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant."

He'd gotten lost. He didn't even know what their destination had been. Obviously to get money, but he didn't recall the name of the place. Scowling, annoyed that he'd been left behind, he started walking again. He kicked the ground, pebbles skidding.

"You lost, kid?"

Merlin didn't even have to think about his reply. "No," he shot back, turning to look at the shop owner. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was written on the sign hanging above him. He stopped, considering as he looked from the sign to the man standing near the door. If Merlin were to guess, he was older than Snape—his brown hair was streaked with silver, his beard and mustache however were still rich brown and neatly trimmed. He wore a violet waistcoat decorated with golden moons, a chain trailing out of his right pocket. "Actually—have you seen a really tall bloke with black oily hair, a hooked nose, and robes like a bat?"

The man—Florean, Merlin presumed—laughed. "That sounds like Professor Snape."

"Yeah! Him!" Merlin broke into a relieved smile. "So, you've seen him?"

Florean nodded. "Headed right on down the street."

Merlin swallowed. "Do you know where?"

"I didn't speak to him, kid."

"Right." Merlin heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up. Well, that didn't help him in the slightest.

"First time I've ever heard of someone looking for Ol' Snape." The man looked thoughtful, leaning against the wall of his shop. "What d'ya need him for?"

"He's supposed to be helping me get my school supplies," Merlin said through gritted teeth. He shook his head. "Apparently, we were getting my allowance but I'm still allowance-less."

"He must'a been taking you to Gringotts then."

"You know where that is?" Merlin asked.

"Course, but Ol' Snape must've already noticed you're no longer following. Chances are that if I send you down that way, you're going get turned around again and he'll walk back up this way looking for you."

Merlin frowned, looking down at his feet. "That's probably true…"

"So, tell you what, I'm going to go inside and whip you up a chocolate ice cream and you sit at one these outside tables and wait for him to come back, all right? He's gotta come back through this way."

"But—" He bit his lip. "I don't have any money on me." And I doubt Snape will buy me ice cream.

Florean shook his head, grinning again. "My treat."

Merlin smiled. It almost felt like the universe knew that it was birthday and had decided to give him a treat—a disaster had turned into free ice cream.

Only A Boy

Professor Snape—unaware that his charge was leisurely licking ice cream—was in a state of panicked fury.

Should the Headmaster find out about this, he doubted he'd ever hear the end of it. And, though he assaulted the child's name with every curse imaginable, he knew he couldn't blame the boy entirely. Snape hadn't bothered to check behind him until he was standing in front of the bank. It seemed that at a subconscious level, he'd wanted to lose him in the crowd.

Well, he'd certainly succeeded.

Now, he needed to find him before he somehow wandered his way into Knockturn Alley and became another face on milk cartons, while his kidneys were sold to some demented necromancer. He shook his head. He hadn't felt like this in a long time—it was somewhat akin to a student clumsily spilling a toxic solution in class with only seconds before everyone became disfigured permanently.

He walked back up the street, eyes sweeping the crowd systematically. He wasn't desperate enough to start shouting names—he'd always sneered at the parents who did that. He wasn't about to become a hypocrite. But if he didn't find that child soon…

He rounded the corner and finally, at the far end of the street, caught sight of him. He was sitting outside Florean Fortescue's with a half eaten ice cream and chatting to the man himself. For a moment, Snape allowed himself to be relieved. And then he became angry.

Idiot boy.

In a few moments, he reached the parlor. His expression could have turned the ice cream into cheese but upon catching eye contact with Merlin, felt it soften into his usual loathing glare. He hadn't expected that expression on the boy's face.

As though he'd injured him in some way.

"Thanks for waiting," Merlin said in a cool voice. It did not sound like a tone one would expect from a child. "Because, you know, I can walk just as fast as you in a crowd of dollop heads, sir."

Dollop heads?

Snape's first impulse was to shout at Merlin for his insolent words. How dare he be smart with him after making him worry like that? He felt his blood boil, and then cool – ice settled in his veins. He was ready to tear him apart, this rebellious, disrespectful, smartass.

But something stopped him.

Maybe it was the way the kid was folding his arms, the ice cream already eaten. The way he seemed accuse him with his eyes, It's your bloody fault, hanging unsaid in the air. Or, perhaps it was because he could see relief in the boy's face, just as much as he could see the anger.

"Then next time I suggest you ignore the surroundings and pay attention to the task at hand."

"That's kinda hard to do when the surroundings sort of knock you to the ground."

"Sort of knock you to the ground?" Snape repeated, a mocking edge in his tone now. "Dear me, I didn't realize you were that unobservant."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had to be aware of over a hundred people at once."

Florean was standing there, looking from him to the boy as though watching an acrobatic act. The child frowned and got to his feet. Snape tried to see the impudent Potter in the way he jut forth his chin, but there was no similarity at all. This boy wasn't cocky.

He was defensive.

"I am only eleven, you know?" He said it as though daring him to just try saying happy birthday. "I'm not exactly able to see over the heads of the people in the crowd." He took a breath, his brilliant blue eyes flashing. Snape had never encountered a student who'd dared to talk back to him like this. His strict demeanor was usually enough to deter that type of thing, and if they tried they were reprimanded so harshly that they never tried again.

"I'll," and here Snape's lip curled, his tone turning icy, "keep that in mind." Florean looked awestruck, as though he'd never seen something so amazing in his life. Indeed, Snape felt like he had just apologized. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what on earth was up with him today. "As I have no desire to repeat this appalling experience, I'll ask that you refrain from bumping into the surroundings and stay by me. I don't have time to look for you again."

Merlin narrowed his eyes a fraction but didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded and turned to Florean. "Thank you for everything."

"My pleasure." Snape could hear the shock in the man's voice. "If you ever want to hear about your namesake again, just drop by."

Merlin nodded and gave him an interesting smile, as if he'd just heard a joke meant just for him. "Sure." He turned back to Snape and gestured for him to lead the way. The professor appraised him for a brief moment and then set off at a slightly slower pace, the dark-haired boy at his side.

Only A Boy

"I hope I do not need to remind you to be on your best behavior?"

"No, sir."

Merlin had decidedly said very little on the walk to Gringotts. He was still fuming inside but knew he had to stop pushing his luck. He wasn't an adult in this situation – no matter what his mind was. Snape wasn't like Arthur. With the king, they'd had this tacit agreement that banter was fine. He supposed that everyone had their limits. He and Arthur had known each other so long that sarcasm and name-calling had become not just a part of everyday life, but also a demonstration of affection.

But theyhad needed to get past that initial bit of establishing boundaries. Merlin could remember being thrown in the stocks time and time again during those early days. But as they had become friends, those incidents had occurred less. Maybe Snape would be like that too—though, he wasn't eager to find out what his equivalent of the stocks would be.

Probably something even worse.

They turned the corner and Merlin caught sight of Gringotts for the first time, enormous letters carved into stone. The building was oddly crooked, as though built by someone who'd only had a vague idea of what straight lines were supposed to look like. The tilting marble made him uneasy, but the comfort of strong magic gave him the assurance that it would not collapse on the pair of them. The doors opened for them, and Merlin caught sight of a plaque on the wall.

Enter stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there

Interesting. That would definitely deter potential thieves, though as to what could possibly be guarding the vaults his imagination drew up a long list of lethal creatures— many of which he had faced. Merlin looked out into the bank, at the beautiful office space with ornate desks and lines of patrons. And then he caught sight of the employees. For a moment he blinked, staring at the scene before whipping around to face Snape.

"Goblins? You have goblins, running your financial system?"

Snape's lip curled. "Creatures who are, shall we say, hoarders of gold tend to be the best at protecting it." His voice was in a deadly whisper, barely a glance spared toward one of the beings in question. "In fact, they mint the coins in question."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. The only interaction he'd had with goblins had been the time that Gaius had been magically possessed by one of the creatures, pranking the entire castle and stealing—and then licking—gold pieces. Somehow, Merlin had a hard time trusting them with his money. He looked over at one of them. They had a different appearance than the one he had encountered, less diabolical mud imp and more business professional. Maybe he'd met the impulsive subspecies.

Snape rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of his shirt, almost dragging him to the front desk. The professor really had no patience, did he? Merlin shot him a resentful sneer from behind as he straightened his collar.

They came to an open desk where a goblin with pointed ears angled far from his head and long skeletal fingers greeted them. When he smiled, Merlin saw needle-like teeth. The creature embodied an earthy magical aura, not uncommon among non-humans. They reminded him of the magic from his day. Merlin stood a little taller.

"Mr. Evans wishes to withdraw his quota from the Funds for Wizard Orphan's account," Snape told the goblin in a tone of cool politeness. Merlin managed a small smile as the goblin glanced at him. The dark skinned creature met his eyes for a long moment, and he could see curiosity reflected in its clear black gaze. He got another glimpse of sharp teeth as its smile widened.

"I assume you have his card?" it replied at last, turning back to Snape. The goblin's voice was graveled and rough, though oddly higher pitched than Merlin had expected.

"Indeed," and Snape produced a shiny silver card from the pocket of his robes. It had elegant blue writing on the surface, but Merlin didn't see what it said before the professor placed it on the counter. "I also have this request from Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape continued and he placed another envelope on the desk.

The goblin glanced at the envelope – holding the card in his thin hands – and nodded. "If you would follow Griphook, Professor Snape, he will take to vault 713. I will see to young Mr. Evans."

Snape didn't react for a moment, the only indication he was taken aback from this and Merlin had to wonder if this was out of the ordinary. Then, Snape nodded and turned to him. "Do not leave. Wait for me to return here in the lobby."

"Is it normal to leave children alone with goblins?"

Snape looked almost amused. Maybe it was because Merlin sounded so apprehensive about that prospect. "If you're envisioning a mindless brutal creature, you'll be sadly disappointed. These goblins are hardly that of Moria."

Merlin blinked. He didn't quite understand that reference.

If Snape noticed his blank expression, he didn't think it worthy of mentioning. "If I find that you've gone strolling around Diagon Alley alone, you'll find yourself with detention before school even begins. Am I understood?"

"I wasn't planning to!"

"Am I," his voice dropped to dangerous whisper, "understood?"

Talk about intimidating. "Yes, sir."

Snape nodded, walking away from the desk and through a corridor where another goblin stood waiting. In a moment, he had vanished from sight and Merlin was left alone in the lobby.

"Mr. Evans," the goblin said and Merlin turned back to him. "This way, if you please." He took a deep breath and followed the goblin toward a hallway in the opposite direction. He couldn't help but notice that a few other goblins looked up curiously as they walked past. He was starting to feel self-conscious. Why were they giving him such an odd look? Could they sense that he was different from the wizards they usually encountered?

When they had passed into another room with several tall vaults, the goblin leading him turned around and offered a light bow. "I am Dirknot," the goblin told him. He was getting that curious look in his eyes again, an odd excited glint. "Juglout is withdrawing your annual school allowance as we speak."

"Okay…" Merlin said, growing steadily more nervous. He wasn't sure he liked being alone in a room with the creature – memories of his previous encounter with the species kept rising to the surface. He half expected Dirknot to break into cackling laughter. Sure, different subspecies and all that but first impressions die hard.

"You are a forger."

Merlin was so caught off guard that he pulled a double take. "A—what? Sorry."

He could see every single one of those sharp teeth in the smile that Dirknot gave. "A forger," he repeated. "You are the forger of an artifact in our vaults, and thus the rightful owner."

Merlin stared at him. "You have got to be mistaken."

"There is no mistake." Dirknot crossed to one of the vaults and ran a finger along one of the several hundreds of grooves. "We goblins do not abide by the same laws of possession that wizards do. The one who makes an object is the rightful owner."

"Er…"

Dirknot seemed to realize that Merlin wasn't following him. "A goblin smith crafts a magnificent sword and sells it to a wizard. When the wizard dies, it should be returned back to the smith, the maker, and not to the descendants." He paused a moment and Merlin nodded to show that he understood – though he did not have any idea where this conversation was going. "The maker only loans their work. Many wizards thieve from us, because they do not understand this."

"Okay."

"If the maker dies, their work is passed to their children or to their species. They are the rightful owners."

"Right." Merlin frowned. "But I'm—"

The goblin shook his head, cutting him off. "We have many unclaimed items in our vaults. Their maker's have been lost and we keep them until they are found. Goblin magic is different than wizard magic—" Don't I know it. "—and we can sense the maker of an object when they walk through our doors. You are the forger of one our items."

His shoulders relaxed. "Or my family member was."

Dirknot nodded. "Please come here."

Well now, he had a good idea of what this was all about. He had forgotten all about it, the memory a bright cut amid a black and confused emptiness. He walked over, every bit the excited kid who wanted to see if his toy still worked. "Do you have enchantment nullifiers on the vault?"

The goblin blinked. "We do," he said in his gruff squeaky voice.

Merlin nodded and stood at the entrance. Ah, he could feel the enchantment now. He turned to look at Dirknot, silently asking him for permission to enter and the goblin nodded once more. He took a breath and stepped inside. There were shelves upon shelves of objects lining the entire room, which was at least as large as the cafeteria at Wool's. Cups, swords, paintings, and jewelry twinkled in the sliver of light provided by the door.

But the instant he had stepped within, he felt the boundaries of the enchantment fall and he heard a quiet chink as something collided with his shoe.

Unbelievable.

He bent down. There, ready for him to pick up, was his ring. It hadn't changed a bit in over a thousand years, and it knew exactly who he was. The black band seemed to glint navy blue in the dim, the wings of the merlin glowing with azure light. He picked it up and straightened once more, staring at it in wonder. He had thought he'd never see it again, that it had been lost in Camelot or perhaps behind a display case in a museum. And, he could tell just by holding it in his hand, all his enchantments were just as powerful as the day he cast them.

This was proof of who he was.

He wrapped his fist around it and existed the vault, bowing in thanks to Dirknot. "Thank you," he told the goblin.

"No thanks is needed, forger. It is yours."