A Wand Fit For Merlin

The ring didn't fit.

He had expected that but it was still disappointing that he couldn't slide it on. He had created it because he needed a seal for important documents, but it had become more than just a crest. It had become a piece of him, in a way.

"Does Forger know the significance of his new ring?"

He turned to Dirknot, who was closing the vault doors behind him. He swallowed and did his best to appear only casually interested.

"I'm not—" he tried to say, but the goblin spoke over him.

"It bears the crest of Emrys." Dirknot's eyes glinted, excitement and intrigue within them. "The Prince of Enchanters."

Merlin could feel his gut churning, a panicked nausea coming over him. "S—so I'm related to…" he trailed off pointedly. He hoped that he sounded more excited than anxious.

The goblin's grin only grew wider. "Our magic can identify the true maker. You are the one who forged this ring."

He gave a nervous laugh. "What? That's impossible! I'm eleven."

Dirknot nodded. "Indeed." The goblin cocked his head to the side, as though he were gazing at a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve. "Yet you bear his name, Forger."

Merlin was holding the ring so tightly in his palm that it had started digging into his flesh. He started scooting toward the door, his hands cold as his legs prepared to run back into the lobby. The goblin knew. He was ready to make a dash for it when a sensation of calm washed over him. He took a deep breath and turned around.

"Maybe this ring chooses its own Maker, instead?" he suggested, choosing his words delicately. All this talk was speculation; there was no way to prove that he was The Merlin. Acting panicked would only add to the creature's suspicions.

"Perhaps." The goblin didn't look convinced. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then he started walking toward the exit. "Emrys has the loyalty of all magic, Forger. Wizards tend to be ignorant of the earth beneath their feet, but we goblins live within her. We have felt her cries."

Merlin stopped dead, gaping at Dirknot in shock.

"Those who have hurt her also have the wrath of the goblins to face. Remember this Forger, for when the earth shivers once more we will swear allegiance to none but her." The goblin bowed and opened the door back to the lobby. "No goblin will reveal you, Forger, and none will speak of the ring you possess. But do well to hide it from the view of all others, for we are not the only ones who know its linage."

Merlin was silent for a moment, and then he nodded and bowed in reply. "I shall," he murmured. The panic had fled, the churning in his stomach calmed. There was a strange comfort in the words of the goblin, the same comfort he'd had when the druids had approached him and sworn their loyalty. "Can I ask a question, though?"

Dirknot nodded.

"You say Maker, and yet call me Forger. Why?"

And the goblin grinned once more. "Because, you create with the aid of dragon fire."

Merlin stared.

"Only a select few have ever done, for the task is wrought with danger and unpredictability. The language of the beasts vanished long ago, leaving only savage brutality in its midst. To tame the dragon's flame is to become a Forger, and it is believed to be a skill belonging solely to goblin kind." Dirknot lead the way through the door.

"Know this Forger, for you feel her below your feet and walk where no wizard has tread before."

Only A Boy

Snape hated the Gringotts carts just as much as the next wizard, but he emerged from his venture into the underground only a trifle paler than his usual pallid color. The goblin that led him nodded in farewell, opening the door that lead back to the lobby without a word. He returned the nod, and quickly swept past him. He had nothing against goblins, even if he didn't particularly enjoy their company – he was, however,worried about what sort of shenanigans his charge had gotten into during the fifteen minutes left unsupervised.

Evans.

The name was a painful reminder of a time better forgotten. It grated him the wrong way every time it rose in his mind, feelings that he had tried hard to smoother rising so easily to the surface. But blaming the boy because of a name was pathetic. He didn't even resemble her, nor did he act like the offspring of Potter. No, Merlin Evans was something else altogether.

Getting tripped up on a name was ridiculous.

Snape looked up, catching sight of the boy leaving a door from the other side of the lobby. He started to make his way over to him when something made him pause. The goblin that they'd first met was handing Evans a sack of gold – the funding, no doubt. The boy bowed – thank God, some manners – but then, to Snape's utter astonishment, the goblin bowed back. He stood there, watching the scene for several seconds. A goblin bowing to a wizard wasn't unheard of. Though the act should've been filled with mockery, as goblin and wizard relations had always been strained. They wouldn't bow if they didn't have too, and certainly not to an orphaned Hogwarts Student.

"Ah, Professor Snape!" The boy had caught sight of him, and was giving a hearty wave and hurrying over to him.

"There's just something about him…"

For a muggle, Martha had certainly nailed that one. Merlin Evans was an odd sort. He seemed to affect everyone around him with a strange charisma that incited both blinding hate and an urge to protect him.

"Evans," Snape answered curtly. "Did you perhaps fill that goblin's ears with such rubbish that he was forced to bow in order to get rid of you?"

"What?" Evans blinked. He was tucking something down his shirt as he spoke, the glimmer of a silver chain around his neck. "I think he rather liked me, actually." He was getting that tone again, one that wasn't quite arrogant, had a little sarcasm, and filled with bright wit. "Thought that was manners anyway, bowing."

Snape's lip curled. "Something that you've clearly forgotten how to use." He surveyed him for a moment, a calculating expression on his face. From the look of it, the goblin had also taken Evans to the vault of unclaimed artifacts. But as the boy wasn't voluntarily sharing the information – and since he seemed to share everything else – it was obvious that Evans wanted to keep it secret. And, etiquette demanded that he didn't pry. Probably an old heirloom from a family he'd never known, anyway. Definitely not from the Potter vault – all their wealth had been given away to friends as per their will. He'd even managed to receive something.

"I would rather we finish our little adventure before nightfall. I assume I am not alone in that thought."

A nod.

"Then I suggest you follow my lead and forgo any thought of staring longingly into windows."

Evans raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to hold onto the money, too?" There was the barest hint of mockery in his tone. "You know, just in case I somehow manage to spend it all on ice cream?"

Snape practically snatched it from the boy's hands. "Do not speak to me in that tone," he whispered. "Unless you want to find yourself back on the Knight Bus and all your supplies delivered tomorrow."

That shut Evans up. He clamped his lips together, as though he were fighting back a retort. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, gathering himself. Only a little bit longer and then he'd be free of this torturous day.

"Come along," he snapped more aggressively than he'd intended, making his way out of the bank. Evans hobbled beside him; looking somewhat like he kept thinking his legs were longer than they actually were. After a moment the boy started speaking again – would nothing ever shut him up?

"Goblins." Evans had the barest hint of a smile on his face. "Not such a bad idea after all. I mean—"

"Yes, because the wizarding world must obey your ideals on infrastructure. So pleased that it has passed your approval," Snape spat, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Do you need to approve the postage system as well?"

Evans glanced toward him, a small pout on his face. "Sorry sir, I didn't realize I couldn't have an opinion."

Thank Merlin he didn't have to respond. As he opened the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions the witch herself greeted them. Elderly and kind, she curtseyed when she saw the pair of them.

"Severus!" she said with a smile. "Lovely to see you again. Come for some new work robes?"

He inclined his head to her. She'd been the witch who'd taken the measurements his first time to Hogwarts as well – it was hard not to feel a fondness toward her. "Not today, Madam. Just Mr. Evans here."

"Professor Snape?"

Snape looked up, catching sight of another boy that was getting fitted by one of Madam Malkin's assistants. Light blonde hair delicately styled and handsome angled features, Draco Malfoy heavily resembled his father. From the sneer and propriety to the sharp grey eyes. Even so, Snape could see the elegance of his mother in the boy's jawline.

"Draco, getting your school supplies today as well?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Evans regard his polite attitude with interest.

Draco nodded and then turned his attention to Evans. Both boys stared each other down for a moment, and Snape could see the oddest emotion flashing through Evan's gaze. As though he felt a kinship to a boy he had never met before – which struck Snape as downright peculiar.

"Ah, this is—" Snape began, feeling that introductions were in order. "Merlin Evans, you'll be attending Hogwarts together."

"Merlin?" Draco repeated. His tone was almost rude. Snape glanced quickly toward Evans to see if he was offended but he was surprised to see that was not the case. Evans looked downright pleased. As though he didn't mind in the slightest when his name was said in that particular tone.

"Yeah," Evans said with a grin. "I—"

"You can talk in a minute!" Madam Malkin interrupted. "Just hop onto the stool on the other side of Mr. Malfoy so I can start measuring the robes, all right?"

Evans nodded. "Right, sorry," he said sheepishly and he quickly moved to the spot the witch had indicated. Madam Malkin slipped a robe over his head and begun to pin it to the correct lengths. It didn't escape Snape's notice how every uncomfortable this made Evans.

"My father should be back in a moment," Draco told Snape. Even his drawling tone was reminiscent of Lucius. "He's just looking at books at the moment. Mother's up the street looking at wands."

"Are both your parents wizards?" Evans asked turning to look at Draco. Snape grimaced internally – the subject of blood purity was one he'd rather have avoided. He'd have to discuss with Evans what topics were appropriate when in the company of certain people.

"Yes," Draco said turning to Evans. A slight sneer was taking his face now. "Are yours?"

"Mr. Evan's parents are dead," Snape quickly interrupted. He shot a meaningful look to Evans and prayed the boy had the sense to follow his lead. "Hence the reason I am accompanying him."

"Oh, sorry." He didn't sound like he meant it at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"Not sure," Evans put in giving Snape a calculating look. "But I would think so…" He trailed off.

"Severus, pleasure to see you."

Snape turned around. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway of the shop, several books held under his arm. His shimmer of long blonde hair was held back in a refined ponytail, giving him the appearance of someone that had stepped out of a ninetieth century novel. He leaned lightly on his cane, his hand gripping the silver snakehead with great care.

"Lucius," Snape replied with the air of greeting an old friend. "Just having a small chat with your son."

"So I gathered." Lucius glanced toward Evans. "Severus, I didn't know you had children."

"O—oh, I'm not—" Evans started to say hurriedly, but Snape cut him off.

"Please, you know me well enough. It's a special favor to the Headmaster, the lad has no living family and apparently, I'm the only one with a gap in my schedule."

"Well then, it seems they'll be another few minutes. Why not join me for a drink?" Lucius had a way of making a request sound like a demand and Snape wasn't fool enough to refuse him. His reputation and favor with their family couldn't afford to fall, even if the battle was finished. The spy knew the war wasn't over just yet.

"Certainly." He turned back to Evans, and said with the barest hint of a threat, "Behave, I'll be back momentarily." Evans blinked but nodded all the same, seeming pleased that he was going to get a moment to talk to Draco alone. Snape followed Lucius' lead out of the shop, thinking on why that might be.

Ah, of course. He'd never met another wizard his age.

Lucius immediately engaged him in a conversation regarding the new term. Snape played along, relieved that for once the dialogue wasn't about Death Eaters and rumors of the Dark Lord, or else some attempt to corrupt government officials and actively fight for blood purity laws. At least this time, Snape wouldn't have to filter his answers in the slightest – he really wasn't looking forward to the dunderheads he would have to teach.

He just hoped that Merlin Evans wouldn't make enemies with Draco too quickly.

Only A Boy

Merlin watched as Snape left the shop, a swarm of questions buzzing around in his mind. Who exactly were the Malfoys? They seemed to demand respect from the people around them, as though they were royalty or members of court, a family of privilege, for certain. It felt as though he were once again in Camelot, meeting some lord possessing great influence with the king.

It felt comforting, in a way.

"So," the boy beside him drawled. Draco Malfoy, that's right. "Is your first name really Merlin?"

"Yes, it is." He paused a moment, surveying the Malfoy. "But then your name isn't really common either, is it?"

Malfoy sneered, "Well, I'm not named after the greatest wizard in history. But at least your parents seemed to have some magical knowledge. If they knew who Merlin was anyway."

"Yeah, though – mind you – I think they might have been a little too hopeful," he said remembering the words of the ministry official. Best to downplay his name and abilities. Then no one would look twice at him when something did happen, would they? It had worked well enough at Camelot.

"That's an understatement." He paused a moment and Merlin got the impression he was looking for something else to talk about. "So, how are you getting along with Professor Snape?"

"I don't think he likes me much."

"I'd be surprised if he did."

Merlin glowered at him. "Thanks," he said.

"He's head of Slytherin House, you know. Father says that he always favors his own house over everybody else."

Oh, really?

"Yeah, is that where you're headed to?" Merlin countered, his voice taking on a rather hard edge. At first he had thought that this boy reminded him of Arthur. But, the way he had said father made Merlin a little nauseous. Arthur had never worshiped his father like that, and he had been honorable even if he was a bit of a prat. True, Merlin didn't know Malfoy's father but he hated the sound of that oily smugness, as though he thought that his father would solve all his problems for him.

Merlin would have to change that.

"My whole family has been in Slytherin," Malfoy replied smugly. "You do know what Slytherin is, right? Being an orphan and all?"

I think it's you that doesn't know what a true Slytherin is, actually.

"I got the rundown," Merlin replied now hoping that Madam Malkin would hurry up, or Snape to come back – whichever was faster. "Do you know what a prat is? Being one and all?"

Malfoy's expression turned sour. "Who do you think you're talking to? My father is one of the governors of Hogwarts. He's also quite close to the Minister of magic."

"Oh I see, so should I be calling you Lord Prat or something?" What did being a governor of Hogwarts entitle a person to? It wasn't equal to a Baron and definitely not to a Prince or a King. If Malfoy knew who he was, he'd shit himself.

"T-that's you done," Madame Malkin said quickly. She seemed eager to separate them, and Merlin couldn't blame her. He hopped off the stool, turned to her and managed a genuine smile.

"Sorry, Milady," And he bowed his head. "I'll have Professor Snape come and pay, afraid he has the money. I'll just wait outside, shall I?"

Both she and Malfoy looked so startled by his change in demeanor that they only stared at him wordlessly. He inclined his head again and left the shop. When he was outside he leaned against the wood of the door, taking deep calming breaths. A current of magic hung in the air for a moment before dropping and he clenched his fists.

Draco Malfoy. It was hard to find someone even worse than Arthur in terms of arrogance and self-entitlement, but he'd somehow managed it. Merlin had half a mind to go back in there and give the silver-tongued boy a piece of his mind, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He couldn't afford to show his power.

He stopped leaning against the door and looked up the street, hoping to see the professor making his way back. He wasn't sure where the two men had gone for their drink – maybe the Leaky Cauldron? But Snape would be furious if he found that Merlin had gone off on his own and since he had no money, there was hardly a point. He was just considering taking a seat on the ground beside the shop when he caught a glimpse of billowing black robes making their way toward him.

"What are you doing out here?" Snape spat as he came closer.

"My robes are finished," Merlin replied, sparing a glance at Lucius as he came up behind Snape. "But you have the money, remember, sir?" He fidgeted for a moment, wondering how to get out of an awkward situation in which Malfoy told his father all about their less than civil conversation. "Would you mind if I went to look at wands?"

"And let you get lost in the crowd once more? I don't think—"

"It's a really good idea," Merlin interrupted and he cleared his throat, glancing toward Lucius again. "That way we can finish this little adventure sooner, right? Just give me enough for a wand, and I'll have gotten mine by the time you get there. I know where it is anyway," he said – he had seen it on the way to Gringotts.

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, but he seemed to have caught the glance toward Lucius. Maybe he suspected that a disagreement had ensued between him and the younger Malfoy. In any case, the professor nodded and produced a smaller bag from his pocket. He emptied two-dozen coins into it and handed it to Merlin.

"If I find you've stopped for Ice Cream along the way, you'll find yourself scrubbing the dungeons for the first week of term. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir." Merlin held the bag of coins very tightly in his hand and took off at a jog. So he'd made his first enemy and he hadn't even gotten to Hogwarts yet. Fantastic. He only hoped that somehow he could change this boy too.

Make him stand on his own feet instead of standing on his father's.

It didn't take him long to find Ollivanders. The ancient design and lack of people inside had stuck in his mind. He paused outside the door, taking a moment to catch his breath. He could feel a buzzing of magic from within, could feel the concentration of hundreds of wands all in one spot. He stretched out his magic, tasting the electrified air before reining it in once more. He stepped onto the threshold, but before he could actually push open the door he was seized by a massive headache.

His hands flew to his temples and he stumbled back, his head feeling like it was going to split in two. What was going on? His eyes were watering, his legs shaking and threatening to collapse. He hobbled to the alleyway beside the wand shop, and collapsed to the ground, panting. The world before him was vanishing; it was flickering between the street and a forest.

He shut his eyes.

He was standing in the woods just outside of Camelot, the mist of the morning just starting to vanish in the light of the sun.

"He doesn't even need one, Godric," Rowena was saying. The witch was clad in robes of navy, her dark hair pinned back. She regarded the burly man beside her with something akin to defeat. Merlin grinned – Godric was hard pressed to stop once he had an idea.

"I just want to see what'll happen! Don't pretend you aren't curious," he said teasingly. Merlin glanced toward Salazar. The wizard was leaning against a tree, and he offered the warlock a shrug.

"He'll never let it go, otherwise," he said rolling his eyes. Merlin heaved a heavy sigh but nodded to the man with wild ginger hair.

"Okay, fine. Let's get this over with." He was a little curious as well, truth be told.

Godric produced a thin stick from his robes, grinning broadly. "It's my spare, Rosewood, dragon heartstring. Just try casting some really simple spell." He held it out to Merlin.

"Like what?" He didn't take the wand. He eyed it cautiously; he could feel its magic core, fire and power like a lion barring its teeth.

"I don't know. Try levitating that rock, or something."

Merlin nodded and took the wand in his hands. Heat flowed through his fingers, the magic of the wand trying to align itself with his own. But, it was growing too hot. The wand pulsed and trembled, and then it shattered. A thousand sharp wood splinters fell to the ground as a small shockwave blasted them all back several feet, a ball of golden light expanding before suddenly shrinking with a loud crack.

Merlin jerked back to the present, gasping for breath. Shaking, he sat himself up and leaned against the wall, holding his face in his hands. The sack of gold coins that Snape had given him lay in the dust beside him. His subconscious must have broken free to warn him, and he was certainly glad that it had. Although his head still hurt something fierce. He grimaced and rubbed his temples, remembering the time that Gaius had done this for him. It alleviated some of the pressure, but it was still painful.

Couldn't you have warned me last night, or something? Merlin thought savagely. Now it made sense why his memories only returned while he slept. He could only hope that this didn't happen too often – and never when he was with someone. That could prove problematic. But knowing his luck, he'd better come up with some explanation just in case.

Like an allergy or chronic headaches.

"Okay, no wand." Merlin muttered, but he already saw a large flaw in that statement. Everyone in this magical world had a wand. According to Snape, wandless magic was very difficult to do, and required years of practice. He couldn't just be able to do it, and even then, he should be able to use a regular wand. Merlin frowned, and got to his feet.

There was really only one solution.

He looked around but there weren't any sticks lying in the alleyway. Plus, he really needed to spend this money Snape had given him somehow – it'd look so strange to come back with a wand without having paid for it. Merlin walked back into Main Street and looked around. He didn't want to go too far and he had to get it done fast – Snape was going to be here soon.

There.

Across the street was a small carpenter shop. He ran over to it and stumbled inside, out of breath. "Can—I—buy wood here?" He asked in between pants.

The man behind the bar was young, reminding Merlin of a son running his father's shop. A tag with the name Earl Grant was on his shirt.

"Uh, yeah…"

"What's your most expensive wood?"

"Whomping Willow, at twelve galleons per six inch slabs."

Merlin put the sack of gold on his counter. "Give me enough that this'll buy."

Two minutes later, Merlin walked out penniless with a bent twelve-inch slab of black and golden wood. He checked the street for Snape before making another mad dash for the alleyway. Turning his back to the road, he took a deep breath and held a hand over the wood.

A stream of archaic language fell from his lips, and as his eyes flashed brilliant gold the slab began to morph. Part of it fell away to the ground as it warped around into the shape of a wand. He could feel the remnants of magic in this wood, as though the tree had possessed sentient life. Deciding to honor that somehow, he allowed character to emerge from the wand – something straight was boring anyway.

A thick handle, it became narrow as it extended in a spiral – much like the horn of a shofar. The wood was a mosaic of color, light butter and deep ocher like bruises melted into a marbled tip. Brilliant gold intertwined with black, the contrast between the two colors vivid and elegant. Satisfied, Merlin muttered another spell and the wood polished, becoming soft looking and glossy.

There. That looked like a wand he could say belonged to Merlin.

For a moment he gazed at it then, stuck by a sudden idea, his eyes glowed gold once more. The inside hollowed out – so much as though to allow a clump of three strands of hair inside. Praying this worked, he took it in his hands and poured his magic through it – like a conductor. The wood warmed, but it did not shatter.

Perfect.

Merlin grinned broadly and got to his feet, wiping the dust of the road off his pants. Of the shavings that were on the ground, he muttered a spell and turned it into a case – something to hold the wand until he could just slip it into his shirt. Holding it securely in his hands, he left the alleyway and waited for the professor outside of Ollivanders.

After a few minutes, he caught sight of Snape walking towards him. But to his utter dismay, he wasn't alone. In tow was Lucius Malfoy, a woman that could only be his wife, and giving him a very pronounced sneer was Draco.

Well, lunch was going to be an interesting affair.