Leaving Wool's Orphanage

Professor Snape reappeared outside of Hogsmeade with a crack that resounded through the summer evening. The barrier of the castle was just a few strides before him, but it was times like this that he wished he could apparate directly into the Headmaster's office. The Philosopher's Stone burned in his pocket. He didn't need the constant reminder at the back of his mind that this was how the Dark Lord could return to his corporeal form.

The double agent seriously questioned the wisdom in sending him.

Black robes a batwing in his stride, he scaled the path up to the castle. Up the marble steps and through the entrance hall, up some stairs and down a corridor—until he finally reached the stone gargoyle guarding the passage to Dumbledore office.

He took a moment to regain his breath. "Lemon drop," he spat at the crude hewn carving. Dumbledore's sweet tooth was something he would never understand—particularly when it came to muggle candies.

The gargoyle sprung to life and stepped aside, allowing Snape to slip past and scaled the spiral staircase, arriving in front of the door in a billow of black cloth. He knocked.

"Come in." He opened the door. "Ah, Severus! Not a moment too soon."

Snape hardly spared the office a second glance, far too used to all the strange contraptions that adorned its walls and many tables. Albus Dumbledore stood by a bookshelf behind his desk, apparently adding a few volumes to his collection – or else putting away all the books he had hidden in his bedchamber. He set down the three books he cradled in his arms on his desk when he saw Snape, crossing over to his desk with an urgent glint in his eye.

Something must have happened.

Snape withdrew the ruby red stone from his pocket. "I believe this has a more suitable location."

Dumbledore nodded and gestured to the desk. Snape placed the stone upon it before taking a step back, relieved that it was no longer in his possession. The blood-colored gem glinted innocently in the lamplight, as though trying to tempt him. As if he would ever fall for its charms.

"Indeed, I'll inform Nicolas of its arrival as soon as we're finished here." Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk. He rummaged in a drawer for a moment, and then withdrew a letter. "Earlier today I received this from Gringotts Bank," he said holding it up for Snape to see the crest. "It seems I was quite right in having you withdraw it today instead of waiting until next week. The vault was breached only a few hours after you retrieved the Stone."

Snape felt his throat tighten. "So the alchemist wasn't just being paranoid."

"No, I'm afraid not. He and I have talked long into the night in regards to this matter, but today I feel that our suspicions are confirmed."

"How?" Snape frowned. "According to you, the Dark Lord should be wandering some forest in Albania, alone and formless."

"Should be does not always directly translate to what is. The evidence speaks for itself and we would be ill-advised to ignore it."

Snape was silent for a moment. "Then... he'll try to come here next."

"Indeed. I feel that his desperation for the Stone may push him even here."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. As if he didn't have enough to worry about this term. The Dark Lord should have just died all those years ago. He had nursed a faint hope that the Potters had managed to put him down for good, but no. Their little suicide mission had put a pause to the war, not stopped it completely.

"Hogwarts," the Potions Master began icily, "is a school, not a bank. We don't have safety deposit boxes, or vaults to guard treasure. How exactly do you propose we protect the Stone?"

There was a mischievous glint in the headmaster's eyes. "I have a plan, one that I will relate during tomorrow's staff meeting as it will require not just your assistance but the aid of all."

Snape raised one of his brows skeptically, but decided to save any sarcastic remarks for the meeting. Merlin knew he had a whole arsenal of them. "Since we are on the subject of staff, may I ask why you approved that stuttering oaf for Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Dumbledore heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Quirinus is a brilliant wizard, Severus." He surveyed the professor through his half-moon spectacles. "You are aware of why I could not give you the job."

Snape gritted his teeth, but he didn't answer. He knew perfectly well to what the headmaster was referring to, the so-called curse that Riddle had placed on the position when Dumbledore had refused to hire him. Snape wanted to disregard it, but the inability to keep a Defense professor for more than a year said otherwise.

"I'm not quite ready to lose you yet, Severus."

"Forgive me if I don't find that encouraging." He shook his head. "Even Merlin Evans didn't seem to find him—"

"You ran into Quirinus, today?" Dumbledore questioned sharply.

"Only briefly. He was in the Leaky Cauldron, and seems to have added a turban to his attire." Snape paused, recognizing the calculating look in the old man's eyes. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "During his sabbatical, Quirinus traveled the world. I wonder if he ever went through Albania…" he trailed off.

"You seriously think Quirrell was the one who broke into Gringotts?" Snape's deadpanned. The man had taught Muggle Studies before his sabbatical! "That—would be a rather severe personality change, wouldn't you say'?"

"I merely think we shouldn't discount it. But then again, everyone's a suspect at this stage." He shook his head. "So, how was young Mr. Evans? The funding limit cover all the supplies well enough?"

"Everything's in order," Snape said in his polite clipped tone. He still couldn't understand why the old man hadn't just gone to get take the boy school shopping himself. "I'm holding onto Mr. Evan's materials until September 1st due to his living situation."

"Excellent." Dumbledore smiled and then got to his feet. "Well, I must send that owl to Nicolas and then I need to see Hagrid about a guard dog."

Only A Boy

Wool was closing down.

Merlin had known that, they had all known that but it was still so weird to watch it happen before their eyes. Merlin couldn't imagine how the boys who'd lived here their whole lives felt. The library was the first to go, and they'd all been forced to help. They had loaded boxes of books, magazines, and maps into a truck destined for some the local library. Seeing the shelves stripped bare had made it real. But, nothing could compare to waving goodbye as boy after boy was taken away to a new home.

Merlin and Silas watched as their numbers shrunk every day, until there was only one table left in the cafeteria.

"Do you know where you're headed to yet?" Mark asked the pair of them. They were eating pizza, the regular kitchen staff having been gone for a week now. But, there were so few of them left that Martha had taken to making the meals herself—tonight though, she had been caught up in administrative duties.

"Nope," Silas said through a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. He glanced at Merlin, silently asking for him to finish since he couldn't elaborate at the moment.

"We were supposed to be placed with the Douglas family a week ago, but they backed out for some reason." Merlin sighed and poked his own slice of pizza. He was leaving for Hogwarts in four days. He had hoped to get settled in with his new foster family with Silas before leaving. "You?"

"The Bernard family." Mark grinned broadly. "They're supposed to pick me up on the thirtieth." Mark had grown up in the orphanage. It was good to see him so excited about being placed in a home.

"Where do they live?" Silas took another huge bite.

"North of London, I think." Mark shrugged. "But it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Merlin sighed and took a half-hearted bite of his pizza. Normally, he liked eating junk food – another thing that Camelot didn't serve – but today he didn't feel very hungry.

Another memory had returned to him the previous night.

They had been slowly returning all month, ever since the incident by Ollivanders. It was as though some dam had burst and memories were trickling through a crack in the wall. The only problem was that they all woke him up with a monstrous headache and no amount of pain medication seemed to do him any good. Even now, hours later he could feel it behind his eyes, a small pressure that seemed to radiate up to his temples and poke at his brain.

It made him feel a little nauseous.

"You all right, Merlin?"

He looked up. Silas was staring at him with his wide hazel eyes, a little bit of tomato sauce on his chin and mouth. The way he picked up on everything, from the smallest fidget to a sideways glance, was a little astounding to tell the truth. Merlin couldn't remember meeting anyone as emotionally intelligent as him before.

But Merlin didn't want to worry him with this. It wouldn't make sense.

"I'm fine, just not that hungry, want it?" He pushed his paper plate toward him, managing a small smile.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you eat like you're starving anyway."

"No, I mean…" Silas paused, frowning. He glanced toward Mark and the other two boys that shared the table with them. Then he shook his head and took the plate, nibbling on the pizza. For someone who was so good at reading others, he was an open book.

Merlin had to tell him something.

"It's just a headache," Merlin whispered, giving a lopsided shrug.

"You haven't been sleeping well."

"I just have a lot on my mind." He sighed, knowing how vague that sounded. "I'll be fine."

From the look on Silas's face, he didn't believe him. But what exactly was Merlin supposed to tell him? I'm getting headaches every time I dream of my past, oh and by the way, I'm Merlin? That would go over great. He slouched in his seat, wishing he could disappear. But with the concern wafting from the boy next to him, he knew Silas would just follow him.

Merlin would just have to think of a good excuse…

"Merlin, Silas, can I talk to you both for a moment?"

Merlin turned around, glancing toward the door to the cafeteria. Martha waved over at them, a soft smile on her face. "You can bring the pizza with you."

Merlin exchanged a look with Silas before the both of them got to their feet and walked over to her. Merlin noticed that Silas didn't bring his plate. He frowned but didn't say anything – he could hardly tell him to eat when he wasn't.

"What's up, Martha?" Silas asked, flashing her a smile that still had tomato sauce in it.

She gave him a look that was torn between amusement and disgust. "Do learn to swallow all the food in your mouth, Silas." She shook her head. "Now, I just got off the phone with social services. We've found you both a foster home."

"Really?" Merlin stood a little straighter. Who was it? What were they like? When would they be leaving? Question after question raced around in his mind. They must've showed on his face because Martha smiled at him.

"They're a little elderly, but I've heard that they are very kind. Wentworth and Audrey Haddock."

Merlin heard Silas swallow. "When?" the boy asked. He sounded a little apprehensive. Merlin glanced toward him – he kept wringing his hands together, but his eyes were bright.

"Tomorrow. Mr. Haddock said he'd be here to pick you up about ten in the morning. So, you both ought to start packing." Her eyes were sad for a moment, and then she swept them both into a warm hug.

"Martha—!" Merlin choked out, taken aback. "We—we're not leaving yet!"

"There's a chance I may not be able to see you off," she said, still holding tightly onto them. "Don't cause them too much trouble, please. And Merlin, you're leaving to that school in a few days, aren't you? Take care, all right? Mr. Dumbledore's a good man, if a bit mad."

"I—"

"Martha, I can't breathe," Silas managed though he was holding just as tightly onto her. His head was buried into her shoulder, and he didn't try to push her off him. Merlin couldn't bring him to move away either, her comfort something he hadn't felt in a long time. She was like the grandmother he'd never had.

And then, suddenly, the hug was broken.

"Right." She hastily wiped her eyes, and Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat. "I'll—I'll have a few boxes brought up to your room."

"Martha." Merlin cleared his throat. "Thank you. For everything." He bowed his head to her feeling more emotional than he'd thought he'd be. Martha was silent for a moment, and then she ruffled his hair with her hand.

"Stay out of trouble, you two. And thank you."

Merlin blinked and looked up. He glanced at Silas, but he looked just as stumped as he was.

"For what?"

But Martha didn't answer. She only smiled and walked back down the hall to her office, leaving the boys standing in the hallway for several minutes afterwards.

Only A Boy

The night vanished around him, dreams invading the peace and quiet of his sleeping mind. Merlin rolled over, his brow sleek with sweat. The headache was building, a painful throbbing that managed to break through the illusion of rest. He could sense it, feel it even though he was fast asleep. His brow furrowed, his eyes scrunching up against the pain.

But he couldn't break back into consciousness.

He snorted with laughter when Arthur almost dropped the most important document in the history of magic.

"Merlin!" Arthur snapped.

"Yes, Sire?" He flashed a cheeky smile.

But all he got was a glare. Merlin grinned back, his eyes flickering over to the group of four that stood before them—

Merlin whimpered in his sleep, a hand rising of its own accord to cover his eyes and apply pressure to his forehead. The pain was worse tonight. His eyes flickered open, but he couldn't drag himself out of the memory, out of the dream. He was trapped in a state between wakefulness and sleep.

He and Salazar spoke to each other in Parseltongue. Arthur interrupted them and had him come over to sign the document. He took off his ring, poured the wax onto the parchment—

He was gasping for breath. Merlin was fully awake now, but the memory still wouldn't let go. It wrapped around his mind like claws, forcing him to stay with it till the end. He wrapped his hands around his head, and buried his face into his pillow, trying to mute the cries of pain that were sliding from his lips. He felt someone sit down beside him, heard them ask something he couldn't understand. There were small hands rubbing circles into his back.

Everything went dark—and then the pitch sifted and spread, grainy images like a broken camera flashing across his eyes. It looked as if—the memories had disintegrated. He tried to put them back together and they fell like dust through his fingers with a resounding pang that reverberated behind his eyes. And then he was falling, a windswept journey—his limbs were shrinking—he was crumbling—

The pain reached a crescendo, and stopped. Merlin sucked in a gasp of air as the bedroom came back into focus, and saw wide hazel eyes in front of his face.

"—Merlin?"

Silas was speaking to him. He had probably been talking to him for the past minute, but Merlin had no idea what he'd said to him. He sat up slowly, turning to face his brother while wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"S-sorry for waking you," he mumbled. He wasn't sure what else he should say. His thoughts were still a confused jumble.

Silas gave him a long look. Merlin could just barely make out his features in the gloom. "Should I get Martha?" He asked in an undertone.

"No, I'm—"

"If you say fine, I'm going to hit you."

Merlin sighed, but he felt a smile tug on the corners of his mouth.

"Here." Silas held something out and Merlin took it. "It's some medicine. I swiped it from Martha earlier – told her I had a headache."

"Oh." Merlin paused a moment, and then he popped it into his mouth.

"What did you see? You were shaking the bed with your magic pretty badly. My bed was shaking, too."

Merlin felt himself pale. "Did anyone—"

"Don't think so." Silas looked around. "They're all still asleep, so you're good." He paused. "It'll help if you talk about it. That's what they always say."

There was just no arguing with him. Merlin took a deep breath, and started massaging his temples. His head ached horribly, even blinking hurt.

"I have some…" Merlin trailed off, wondering how to tell him without blowing his identity. "I have some holes in my memory," he started.

"Like how you didn't know where Gaius was when you first came here?"

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, sort of. Anyway, the memories have been coming back slowly. Like, I get little scenes and snippets. Usually they only come back while I sleep, and they weren't painful – just surprising." Merlin swallowed. "But, while I was at Diagon Alley I had a memory come while I was awake and it gave me the worst headache. Since then, they have been more frequent and more painful. Tonight was the worst."

Had that been his final memory before traveling to the present? He didn't know. He still felt a hollow emptiness expand beyond that moment and waking up in Wool's. He could remember King Arthur and Guinevere's wedding, her coronation, clear as day. But when he tried to think of the founders of Hogwarts, the memories fell apart. Would this keep happening or was that it?

It was strange, and he didn't understand it at all.

"Why does it hurt?" Silas whispered. "I mean, memories shouldn't hurt, should they?"

"I don't know." He had been thinking the same thing. "Maybe cause they were suppressed in the first place?"

"Hm…" Silas was thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I think I might know why they started coming back more after Diagon Alley. Or at least, I have a theory."

"Really?" Merlin hadn't even thought about it.

"Maybe it was because of all the magic around you, you know? You said the place was full of wizards and enchanted things, right?" Silas shrugged. "Maybe it like, I dunno, jump started your mind?"

Merlin stared at him. "Maybe."

"Anyway, will there be more like that?" Silas fidgeted, wringing his hands. "I heard you and I thought—"

"I don't think so," Merlin said. He wasn't positive, after all. "I mean, I could be wrong. But maybe this one was so painful cause it was the last one, you know?" He could hope anyway.

"That's lame. Why can't the last one be nice about it?"

Merlin chuckled but he quickly smothered it, glancing around them. Luckily no one woke up. "Maybe that'd be against the rules?"

Silas pouted. "What rules would those be, exactly?"

"Like I would know!"

And the two dissolved into giggles, berating the universe for a long time after.

Only A Boy

"What time did you fall asleep?"

"I have no idea, the sun was already rising. You?"

"About the same."

Merlin and Silas both had dark shadows beneath their eyes. Merlin's headache from the night had followed him to the day, and he squinted at the light in the entrance hall. Everything seemed so much brighter than it should be, not to mention a lot louder. The movers seemed especially unkind as they dropped boxes onto the floor with loud thuds.

Silas had passed out on the foot of Merlin's bed, and had awoken with half his body hanging off. Merlin would have found it very amusing had he been in a good mood. But, even though the rest of his night had been relatively dreamless, it hadn't been peaceful. And now it felt like he had a serious hangover. Which he knew because of the one time he actually had gone to the tavern.

Something he'd never wanted to repeat.

"What time did Martha say he'd be here?" Silas asked. He yawned widely, showing off all his pearly whites.

"Ten o'clock, I think it was?" Merlin answered. He poked the box he had at his feet. It held all his clothes, a few history books he'd managed to steal from the library, and all his birthday cards. Silas had one very similar at his feet, though it was just a hair bigger. He had been as Wool's longer, after all.

"What time is it now?"

"Er…" Merlin looked around, but all the clocks had been taken down. "Soon?" he guessed.

But it wasn't soon. Minute after minute dragged by, and eventually both boys slid to the floor. Silas tried to get Merlin to play a word game with him but they were both so tired that they ended up passing out, sprawled over their boxes.

Merlin woke up to someone shaking his shoulder. He blinked and looked up. There was a rather old gentleman standing over them. He had a square face, and equally square horn-rimmed spectacles that made his brown eyes look twice the size. His gray hair was speckled with light brown, and he leaned upon a wooden cane.

"Hello, Lad. I'm Wentworth Haddock. Are you two Merlin and Silas?" He had a very kind voice, though low and rough as though he needed a drink of water.

Merlin nodded, and hurriedly wiped a line of spit from his mouth. Not exactly the best first impression to give. He glanced beside him and elbowed Silas in the ribs. "Wake up!" he muttered when Silas groaned and shifted his head to the other side. "He's here!"

Mr. Haddock scratched the back of his head, giving a sheepish smile. "Sorry about being so late. I slept in by accident."

Merlin got jerkily to his feet, while at the same time giving Silas another nudge. "T-that's all right." He gave a small smile and extended his hand. "I'm Merlin."

"I thought you might be." Mr. Haddock smiled again. "You both look knackered, if I do say so myself."

Merlin laughed nervously. "Yeah, bit of a late night."

Silas finally stirred awake. He blinked owlishly for a moment as though he couldn't figure out what was going on before shooting to his feet. "S-sorry! I—"

"That's all right, laddie." Mr. Haddock laughed. "It's my fault that I was late. Is this all your stuff?"

"Er, yes."

"Well, let's go then." He turned around and walked towards the door, limping heavily. Merlin and Silas exchanged looks before grabbing their stuff and following him out the door.

Mr. Haddock had a sky blue pick-up truck that looked nearly as old as he was. The doors creaked and groaned and there were no seatbelts on the bench-like seat. The interior smelled of rust and gasoline mixed with coffee and old man. It actually wasn't a bad smell, just a little overwhelming at first. The truck purred as they started driving. Every time Mr. Haddock changed a gear, they'd jerk slightly but it was nothing compared to what the Knight Bus had been like.

Merlin actually found this drive relaxing, in comparison.

"So, tell me about yourselves," Mr. Haddock said after they'd been driving for a bit. "What do you like to eat?"

"Anything, really," Silas answered. He glanced at Merlin. The silence was growing.

"I like salad dressing," Merlin said with a shrug.

Mr. Haddock laughed. "Not salad or anything, just the dressing?"

"Yeah." Merlin smiled back. "But I'm not picky. We both aren't."

"Well, the Mrs. cooks really well. Don't be afraid to request something, she likes that."

"All right." There was silence for another moment. "So," Merlin looked out the window. "Where are we going?"

"Ah, they must not of told you. We're going to Little Winging, Surrey."

"Is it a long drive?"

Mr. Haddock shrugged. "Not really."

It was.

Merlin and Silas both fell asleep on the way again, but Mr. Haddock didn't seem to mind. Merlin woke up of his own accord just as they were pulling into the driveway. He could see a number nine on a plaque by the door. Silas was snoring, his head leaning on Merlin's shoulder.

"Hey, we're here," he said nudging him just as Mr. Haddock cut the engine.

"S'was for eating?" Silas mumbled, and he yawned.

"Come along, the Mrs. probably has lunch out. Some food in you will wake you up." Mr. Haddock smiled at the pair of them and then got out of the car. Merlin pushed open the door – it was heavier than he thought it might be – and stumbled out of the truck. Silas followed after him and looked up and down the street.

"It's a pretty nice neighborhood," he remarked. Merlin followed his gaze and saw that he was right. All the lawns were trimmed and green. Mr. Haddock's car looked to be the oldest one, but its paint was just as new and bright as every other car. Down the street, they could see a sign that said Privet Drive.

"Are you coming?"

"Y-yeah!" Silas called back and he nudged Merlin.

They got their boxes from the back of the truck and walked up the steps. But, before they could even walk through the door a woman burst through it and swept down on them.

"Oh, at last you're here! I told you, I told you, didn't I? You should have set two alarms. Did he make you wait very long, I bet he did."

Mrs. Haddock spoke very fast, and with a voice of graveled alto. She had puffy cheeks, and a small mouth. She too wore square glasses that magnified her blue eyes, though she had a second pair hanging on a gold chain around her neck. Her hair was long and auburn, though her white roots were starting to show. She ushered them inside, still speaking in the same annoyed tone.

"Worth never gets up on time. He's never on time at all. I've been telling him for years, but he just doesn't listen. You can't just turn off the alarm and go back to sleep. So sorry, you two. Was the ride okay? He didn't play any old music, did he? Worth, you didn't make them listen to jazz classics, did you?"

"No, he—" Merlin couldn't even get a word in.

"I bet you both are famished. Yes, I bet you are. It's past lunchtime, at least our lunchtime. We eat a little bit earlier, you see. Well come on, to the kitchen! I have it all laid out on the table. Just put those boxes there. Yes, there, we can deal with them later. Have you—"

Her words faded into the background as Merlin looked around the house. It was a nice, modest two-story house. The entry hallway led directly into the living room. There was a couch against the wall with a bookshelf beside it and a television across from it. There was also a staircase leading up, with a little cupboard beneath it. At the end of the hallway was another door, one that Mrs. Haddock was walking through.

Merlin followed, Silas close behind him. The kitchen was large and bright. There was a bar counter and on the other side, a dinning room. The table would comfortably seat six, let alone four. Mr. Haddock was already sitting down, serving what looked like potato salad onto everyone's plates. There was a platter of bread slices, all without crust. There was mayo and mustard, and also a plate with ham, cheese, onion, and pickle slices. Beside the potato salad was another bowl with coleslaw.

"No need to stand on ceremony," Mrs. Haddock was saying. "Come on, take a seat. Do you have anything you're allergic to? Martha didn't say, but I suppose she would have, wouldn't she? Here, let me make you an Ol' Haddock sandwich."

Merlin took a seat beside Mr. Haddock, Silas taking the seat across from him. They didn't speak while food was loaded onto their plates, but they didn't have to. Mrs. Haddock spoke enough for all of them. It was a nice feeling though, and Merlin caught himself smiling as she chattered on and on about all the different things she could make for them and to feel free to request something anytime.

"Audrey," Mr. Haddock said finally. "Stop it, you'll talk all our ears off at this rate. And sit down, make your own sandwich now." He shook his head and turned to the boys. "Sorry about this, she's just excited."

"Don't apologize for me!" Mrs. Haddock said, but she sat down all the same. She looked a bit flustered. "You know how long it's been since we've had children in our house? My God, I hardly remember the last time—"

"So, best we get a few things out of the way," Mr. Haddock interrupted. His wife pursed her lips but stopped talking; instead she started making her own ham and cheese sandwich. "We don't have a lot of rules here, but the ones we do I hope you'll follow to the best of your ability."

Merlin and Silas exchanged expressions of mild apprehension.

"First, all meals are at the dinner table. Food isn't allowed in the bedrooms or the living room simply because it's too difficult to clean. I also consider it important for us all to eat together – make it feel more like a family." Merlin gave a small smile, but he didn't speak – his mouth was full of food. The potato salad was amazingly good. He liked that they wanted to have meals together, and judging from the look on Silas' face, he thought so too.

"There's no cussing in the house." Mr. Haddock looked over at his wife as though this was a rule that he hadn't come up with. "But, outside it's perfectly fine."

"Worth!"

Silas snorted into his glass of water. Mr. Haddock smiled as well.

"Um… let's see. You'll be given some chores to do of course, just to help out the Mrs. But, you will get an allowance for it."

Merlin didn't know what an allowance was, but it sounded like they were going to get paid. Silas looked surprised by this news.

"Really?" he asked.

"Earning money is something you're going to do most of your life, better start now. Plus, it'll teach you how to handle it. You'll think twice about breaking a toy that you bought with your own sweat."

"Cool." Silas grinned broadly, turning to look at Merlin. He had a little bit of mustard on his chin.

"Other than that… just staying out of trouble with the neighbors, I suppose." Mr. Haddock starched his ear. "Might be forgetting something, but that's the gist of it."

Merlin swallowed his final bite and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So," he said. "What should we call you?"

Mr. Haddock thought for a moment.

"Oh, I don't like formalities," Mrs. Haddock said, taking her husbands silence as permission to speak. "Well, I mean. I don't want you two to be so formal. We're just fosters, but I want us to feel like family. I was so happy that they finally approved our application. It took them long enough, didn't it Worth?" She shook her head. "You can call me Granny, or Granny Audrey. That's what the grandkids call me, after all."

"A-all right." Merlin was a little taken aback, but pleasantly so. He looked at Mr. Haddock, waiting for him to answer.

"I suppose…" Mr. Haddock scratched his chin. "Well, anything's find really. Except Gramps, don't much like that."

"The grandkids call him Popeye," Mrs. Haddock said fondly.

"Why?"

Mr. Haddock chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I was in the navy, wasn't I? But I think it's because of that one Christmas where I told Lucy to eat her spinach."

Merlin was still rather confused, but figured he'd just ask Silas later – who judging from the chuckling understood the reference.

"If you're both finished, I'll show you your rooms," Granny Audrey said. She was getting to her feet. "I suspect you'll want to unpack."