The Prejudice of a Father

The table on the far left burst into applause, but Merlin hardly heard it as he walked to an open seat near the end. His rampaging thoughts blurred the world around him. He did not have all his memories. The hat had seen them enveloped in pitch, some so tainted that even it could not access them.

Someone had cursed him.

"Welcome to Slytherin, young snake!" Someone was patting his back. Merlin smiled at the older student, but it felt forced. When had he been cursed? Why? It was troubling, the possibility that someone knew of his mission and was trying to sabotage it—or had someone tried to stop him back in Camelot?

Merlin swallowed and glanced toward Snape, wondering if his convoluted thoughts showed on his face. The spectral bat was clapping politely with the rest of the staff, and he gave a very minute nod when their eyes met. Merlin returned the gesture and turned to watch the other students being sorted into their houses. Some were only a few seconds but others were a minute or more.

"Granger, Hermione."

The girl that had talked about "Hogwarts, A History," walked forward. Merlin thought he saw her eyes flicker once to him before the hat went over her eyes.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

She hurried to her seat, her face slightly pink. As Merlin looked at the table, he caught sight of the Weasley twins, both of whom were clapping. They seemed to feel his gaze, because they looked up. Merlin wasn't quite sure what he had expected. He waved to them, smiling and they looked startled – as though they hadn't expected that. They looked at each other and then waved back.

"You might not want to do that."

"Sorry?"

It was the older student that had congratulated him earlier. The boy's eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table before returning to Merlin. "Gryffindor and Slytherin aren't exactly on the best of terms," he explained in an undertone as Greengrass, Daphne put on the hat.

"What do you mean?" Merlin muttered back, clapping as the Miss Greengrass was made a Slytherin and took a seat at their table. "Why not?"

The boy raised his eyebrows. "You're kidding, right?"

Merlin frowned. "I think I could make better jokes than that."

A smile twitched at the boy's mouth. "It goes all the way back to the founders," he explained. "Godric and Salazar used to be friends, but they cut ties over blood purity. Salazar only wanted purebloods admitted to Hogwarts, and the others didn't. Eventually he left the school over it."

"What? Seriously?" Merlin shook his head. That couldn't be right! Maybe the history books had gotten wrong.

The boy shrugged. "I'm Terence Higgs, by the way."

"Oh, I'm—"

"Merlin Evans." Terence chuckled. "I did just watch your sorting."

Merlin smiled back, but before he could say anything else, another student shushed them both and he went back to watching the sorting. Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin as soon as the hat touched his head and he swaggered over to the table. Merlin was relieved that he didn't take the empty seat by him, preferring one further down the row. The empty seat was taken by Theodore Nott, a boy built like Merlin, with rather pointed features.

"Hey," Merlin said by way of greeting. Nott glanced at him, smiling weakly.

"I don't much like being at the center of attention." Nott held his hands together, as though worried that if he didn't they might shake.

"Yeah, well, least it's over now."

Ron Weasley was pale green by the time his name was called. But, in spite of that, he still managed to shoot Merlin a hard glare before the hat went over his eyes. Apparently, he was now black listed in the youngest Weasley boy's mind. Merlin rolled his eyes and was one of the few Slytherins who clapped when Ron took his seat at the Gryffindor table. After Zabini, Blaise was made the final Slytherin, Professor McGonagall took away the stool and Dumbledore got to his feet.

"Before we begin our feast I would like to say a few words and here they are: nitwit blubber oddman tweak, thank you."

Merlin coughed, but the sound was lost amid the loud applause that followed. "What on earth?" he managed, glancing toward Terence but the boy only laughed at Merlin's shocked expression and nodded toward the table. Food had appeared.

He had eaten half a plate of food before he stopped to breathe. Merlin hadn't realized how hungry he had been, and he became aware that Nott was staring at him. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked in a small voice. He was filling himself a bowl of soup.

Merlin shrugged, his mouth full of chicken and potatoes. Probably before ten that morning, the train had provided too much excitement.

"Y—you know, if you haven't eaten in a while, it's not good to scarf it down," Nott told him. "You'll just make yourself sick." And then he narrowed his eyes. "Or choke on a chicken bone…"

With difficulty, Merlin swallowed. "Sorry, it's been ages since I've seen this much good food on one table." Now that he had some food in his belly he didn't have the need to swallow everything in sight, and he began eating at a slower pace. The kitchens at Camelot had never been this good.

Merlin had just covered his plate in salad dressing for a second time when a loud gasp made him turn around. A first year girl at the Hufflepuff table, Hannah Abbot, was pointing at the ceiling where a dozen ghosts had suddenly appeared. They smiled and waved, swopping down on the tables and joined them. A man dressed like a medieval lord with silver stains all down his front joined the Slytherin table, taking a seat right next to Malfoy.

Merlin tried not to laugh at the look on Malfoy's face.

"Who is that?" Merlin asked Terence, nodding toward the ghost who was now talking to an older student.

"The Bloody Baron, our house's ghost." Terence took a long drink of pumpkin juice. "Each house has one. Nearly Headless Nick for Gryffindor, The Fat Friar for Hufflepuff and The Gray Lady for Ravenclaw."

"Don't forget Peeves!" A student across from them had been listening in. He grinned broadly, and Merlin saw that he had something caught in between his teeth.

"Bole, swallow all your food before you talk, please."

Bole ignored Terence. "Peeves is the poltergeist. The only one who can control him is the Bloody Baron, remember that. It might save your skin if you get caught down a hallway with him."

"Great." Merlin grimaced and looked over at the Bloody Baron again. The ghost looked up at him and Merlin waved. For a second, the ghost stared at him, eyes narrowing in confusion. And then they grew wide and he flew to his feet. Merlin didn't even have time to blink—the ghost was two inches from his face, standing inside the table.

"Uh, Baron?" Terence said, sounding just as startled as Merlin felt. "Is there something wrong?"

The eyes were the only part of the ghost Merlin couldn't see through. They reflected instead, hard mirrors of black and silver that held Merlin's own gaze for a long moment. "Young snake," the Bloody Baron asked, his voice grating like nails on a chalkboard, "would you mind coming to the entry hall, for a moment?"

"Baron, what's going on?" Terence asked again, this time with slight anxiety in his tone.

"Pay no attention, Mr. Higgs. Just want a quick word with Merlin here, won't be gone long."

Curious now, Merlin got out of his seat and the ghost glided away, leading the way out of the Great Hall. As they passed the Gray Lady, a pretty woman with long silver robes, The Bloody Baron motioned for her to follow them. She blinked but joined them.

"Uh, Bloody Baron, sir?" Merlin asked once they were alone in the entry hall. "What's going on?"

"Baron? Why is this boy here?" The Gray Lady appeared just as confused as he was.

"Very clever and all, making yourself look young." The Baron took a step back, folding his arms.

"I don't—" Merlin tried to say, but the Baron held up a hand and he fell silent.

"Look at him, Helena."

"Baron—"

"Look at his eyes!"

The Gray Lady gave the Bloody Baron an eye roll before turning and giving Merlin a hard look. At first, her expression remained the same but then she gasped. She turned to look back at Baron, who nodded, before turning back to him.

"Merlin? Merlin!" And she wrapped her arms around him.

Merlin had never been hugged by a ghost before. It felt a bit like being doused in cold water, her hands passing right through him. She took a quick step back as though she had somehow forgotten that she was dead. "Oh, sorry. But, you're here." She turned to look at the Baron again. "How?"

"Wait." Merlin glanced around them, worried that someone would walk in. "How do you know who I am?"

"What do you mean? You are, sorry were, good friends with my mother." When Merlin still looked blank, she frowned. "Rowena?"

Merlin's mouth fell open. "You're Rowena's daughter?"

The Gray Lady, Helena, now looked worried. She bit her lip. "You don't remember? You tutored me after class when I was having problems. The Charms final?"

Merlin shook his head. "I—" he paused a moment, looking from one ghost to the other. They both knew him. And it was so strange, because he didn't know them at all. He tried to remember, he really did but his head started to hurt and he rubbed his temples.

"Enchanter?" Helena asked, and she touched his shoulder, sending another wave of coldness through him.

"It's too complicated to explain right now," Merlin said slowly.

"Do attempt," the Baron said and Merlin thought he saw a flicker of worry pass through his face as well. It looked strange on his hard features.

Merlin took a deep breath. "I'm here because the Old Religion has been violated by someone. The rituals are being performed incorrectly, and balance is demanded. I'm supposed to right it, somehow."

"You don't know?"

Merlin frowned, rubbing his temples again. "There's been a complication. I've got—" he hesitated a moment.

"You can trust us, you know us."

"See, that's the problem. I don't. I can't remember. I've been hit with a curse, or something. It's blocked my memories."

The Bloody Baron looked murderous. "Who hast done this?" he roared, an old accent rising. An accent that sounded vaguely familiar, but… not familiar enough.

"Well, obviously I can't remember," Merlin shot back, glowering. "I didn't even know until Godric's hat told me about the block on my memories. It knew me as well and was just as upset as you that I didn't remember."

Baron deflated slightly, though he still appeared angry. Helena glanced at him nervously before bending down to meet Merlin's eyes. "Is there any way to get them back?"

"Don't know yet. I'll try."

She nodded, smiling sadly. "It's good to see you Emrys. And you are right, the old ways have been forgotten and he is trying to invoke them incorrectly."

"He?"

"Lord Voldemort." The Bloody Baron's voice was cold. "Tom Riddle. He was in my house, half a century ago. As if I wouldn't recognize my own snake."

Merlin's heart leapt. Maybe this task wasn't going to be as impossible as he thought. He stood straighter, the child-like façade falling away. "Who is he? Where is he?"

"A descendent of Salazar," Helena said in an undertone. She folded her arms across her chest. "Intent on making his ancestor's dream come true."

"Dream?"

"You might not remember right now, but you will. Salazar abandoned Hogwarts for more than one reason."

"Pure-blood supremacy," Merlin muttered, recalling what Terence had told him. "So it's true, then?"

"In part." The Baron heaved a sigh. "Neither I nor Helena know of all the particulars. But not long after Hogwarts was built and magic restored to the land, muggles and druids began to intermingle. And while magic was spreading, so was the worry that magic would take its revenge for being oppressed for so long. Salazar disliked seeing the children of men who had killed his kin welcomed into the school, he felt that it was disrespectful to their memory. He left the school over it."

"My mother tried to shelter me from most of it, but I remember when battle broke out," Helena said sadly. "A magical war is not a pretty sight, perhaps it is better you do not remember."

"But—" Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat. "Salazar was my friend. He wouldn't do that!"

"Great Warlock, he did. The entire story is not in the history books because no one wanted to remember how peace came collapsing around our heads." The Bloody Baron shook his head. "Tom nearly made it happen again."

"Nearly?"

"He was thwarted," Helena paused a moment, wringing her hands, "but not defeated. I believe he's used some of the old magicks to extend his life. He exists but he has no body, at least not at the moment."

"So, I have to first find and then defeat a man who's pretty much a wisp of smoke." Both the Baron and Helena shrugged helplessly and Merlin ran a hand through his hair. "Well, this is going to be peachy."

"We will offer you all the help we can."

The Bloody Baron inclined his head and the Gray Lady followed him in curtsy. Merlin smiled at the both of them. "I thank you," and he bowed his head in return. "I trust you know how vital it needs be that no one here knows my identity?"

"Of course. Now come, with any luck there is still some dessert for you."

Only A Boy

"What—what did the Bloody Baron want?"

Dinner had finished. The Slytherins followed a prefect down into the dungeons where their homes for the next several years would be. Nott had somehow attached himself to Merlin, stumbling along beside him and attempting to make conversation. Merlin glanced at him, wanting to befriend him but unable to actually tell him what the Baron wanted.

Maybe he could bend the truth a bit.

"He thought that he recognized me," Merlin said slowly. "I mean, he might know who my parents were."

Nott's eyes widened. "You don't know?"

"I'm an orphan."

"Oh." Nott was silent for a long moment. "So you don't know anything about them?"

"Well, I know their names. But nothing else, not if they were magical as well." He had already told the Ministry that his parent's names were John and Grace.

Nott bit his lip and then whispered, "You might not want to tell anyone else that." He fidgeted with his hands. "I've heard stories about how blood purity is everything in Slytherin and that kids can be cruel if they know you're not pure."

"Are you?" Merlin asked. "Pureblood, I mean?"

Nott's eyes darkened, but he nodded. "I am." He didn't sound too happy about it.

He didn't say anything else for the remainder of the trip down into the dungeons. It was much colder here than in the rest of the castle but somehow Merlin didn't mind. He was used to the chill that castles bore. The prefect stopped before a stonewall, and pointed out a small engraving of a snake along the bottom. If he hadn't pointed it out, Merlin didn't think he'd of noticed it.

"This is the entrance to the Slytherin Common room. If you ever forget which wall it is, look for the snake at the bottom. The password changes on a monthly basis, with the new one posted on the bulletin board – remember to check! The password right now is Boomslang."

As he said it, the Snake's eyes flickered with light and as it slithered to the right, it revealed a passageway behind it. The prefect smiled and led the way inside. Behind them, Merlin heard the door close with a softly hissed, "Welcome, young snakes."

The common room was large, with black squashy armchairs angled around a fire, which was cackling merrily in its grate. Enormous windows opened out to an underwater world, allowing ghostly green light to filter through. Merlin saw a fish look at them before swimming away. Enormous green tapestries covered the opposite walls, depicting forgotten battles entwined with serpents.

"Now, the boys dormitory is up the stairs and to the right," the prefect said, pointing to a doorway. "The girls, the same on your left. All of your belongings have already been brought up. Quiet time is observed between the hours of 8:00am and 9:00pm. There are study group signups on the bulletin board, as well as the meal times in case you forget. Any questions?"

No one said a word.

"Right, so that's everything. If you ever need help you can come talk to me or the other prefect, Carrie. Professor Snape is also available in his office should you need him. He's one flight of stairs above us and to the left."

The prefect smiled one last time at them before taking his leave. Merlin watched him join a group of older Slytherins that had taken some chairs in the far corner against one of the tall windows.

"So, Merlin. Never thought you'd be here among the snakes."

Merlin turned around to see Malfoy split the crowd of first years; Crabbe and Goyle were doing their best to appear intimidating behind him. Nott took several steps back, standing behind Merlin.

"So your name really is Merlin, then?" A girl asked. She didn't sound nearly as condescending as Malfoy, but Merlin could still pick out the air of superiority. She was pretty, with long dark hair and dark eyes, though her face was rather hard. Professor McGonagall had called her Pansy Parkinson.

Merlin glanced at Parkinson, nodding to her before allowing his gaze to return to Malfoy. "Funny, how things turn out."

Malfoy sneered. "Too bad you won't be able to see your blood traitor friends anymore."

Merlin stood taller, his bright blue eyes flashing. "Oh really?" He answered, his voice cold. "And why exactly would that be?"

"Because they are in Gryffindor, obviously."

"Oh right, the rivalry thing." Merlin rolled his eyes. He was dimly aware of how the rest of the common room had gone quiet, listening to their argument. "Well, as I am not a prat, I do not care. After all, didn't you say yourself that the Weasley twins should have been in Slytherin?"

"I did," Malfoy ground out. "Perhaps if they weren't blood traitors they would have been!"

"What on earth is a blood traitor?" Merlin asked. "Because they don't agree with this whole pureblood supremacy nonsense?"

"Merlin—" Nott whispered behind him, but Merlin ignored him. He wasn't going to let Malfoy walk over him. He wasn't in Camelot and Malfoy was nothing like Arthur. He wasn't going to take anything from him.

"They're a bunch of muggle loving saps!" Malfoy shouted. "And it's not nonsense—"

"Are you kidding me? It's a load of hogwash! It's medieval."

"And what gives you the right to make that sort of judgment?" Another boy had joined the argument. He was tall too, with long slanting brown eyes and dark skin. It was the last boy who had been sorted, Zabini Blaise. "Resenting the fact that you aren't pureblood?"

"We d-don't know that," Nott mumbled from behind Merlin. He flinched with Zabini glared at him.

"Yeah, right. There are no old families by the name of Evans. He's probably nothing more than a pathetic mudblood that was sorted into Slytherin by accident—"

From the way the crowd had both gasped and sniggered, Merlin figured that Mudblood was a crude way to refer to someone who came from no magic whatsoever. He opened his mouth to bite back a scathing remark of his own, but Malfoy beat him to it.

"Piss off, Zabini. I don't recall inviting you to join the conversation."

Merlin blinked, taken aback. Zabini frowned, also giving Malfoy a rather strange look but Malfoy didn't seem to notice. Instead he snapped his attention back on Merlin, "Purebloods that dirty themselves with muggles are blood traitors. We shouldn't associate ourselves with filth like them."

"And what makes you better than them, huh? Chances are you have some muggle blood in your family tree somewhere, Malfoy. Otherwise you'd be the result of inbreeding!"

Malfoy's ears went pink, his fists clenching at his sides. It seemed that he had touched upon a taboo subject, as other Slytherins were glaring at Merlin now too. He took a deep breath and amended, "All I'm saying is that I'm not going to let someone's blood status dictate how I treat someone. That's like being nice to people with blue eyes, but hating brown."

For a long moment, no one said anything. "You know, Merlin was a muggle lover too," Malfoy said at last, his tone low and quiet. "Trying to live up to your name?"

Oh, if Malfoy only knew.

"A name means nothing," Merlin spat in return. "Nobody remembers the great names of ordinary people, only the names of those who have done great things. You don't live up to a name; the name lives up to you."

Merlin didn't even wait to see how these words affected the young pureblood. He turned around and strode toward the boy's dormitory, and away from the wide eyes staring after him.

Only A Boy

Draco didn't go up to the boy's dormitory for a long time, preferring to sit in one of the armchairs by the fire and stare at the smoldering wood.

He had baited Evans, he knew that. It was his fault that the conversation had gotten so out of hand, and into the waters of controversial matters. It was his fault that Evans had felt the need to defend himself, had started poking sticks right where it hurt. Because the truth was, there had been inbreeding back in the Malfoy line. No one was proud of it, and no one talked about it, but it had happened. He knew he wasn't the only pureblood family to have suffered the same fate, but the fact that Evans had picked up on it within a second made his gut churn.

Evans confused him. The boy behaved so stereotypically Slytherin that when he threw in his muggle loving ideas, Draco had half a mind to think he was joking. Except that, well, he knew he wasn't.

He didn't like Evans. His parents had advised him to try and maintain a civil relationship, at least – something that was pretty much impossible now. And at the same time, he couldn't stop thinking about the time Evans had stayed behind to let them out of the stinking compartment.

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes. Yes, Evans was irritating and his views were so un-Slytherin that it made him sick. But he was also loyal, and he displayed the true friendship of a Slytherin.

He only wished that he had a little more respect for his House and their beliefs too.

Draco yawned and got to his feet, walking up the cold steps to his dormitory. Inside, nearly everyone was already asleep. The curtains were drawn around all of the beds, except one.

Merlin Evans sat against the large window, staring into the darkened underwater world. Somehow, whenever they spoke, Draco always got the impression that he was a lot bigger than he was, a lot older. But right now, he looked like just another eleven-year-old child.

He took a deep breath. "I… apologize, for earlier," he whispered, coming to take a seat on the floor across him.

Evans glanced up at him, blue eyes widening in surprise. "I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to say—I mean—" he bit his lip. Draco had a pretty good idea of what he was trying to say, and not say at the same time, so he nodded.

"It's just…" Evans paused, looking back out of the window. "Why does blood purity matter, anymore?"

Draco swallowed thickly, fighting his gut reaction to start the argument up again. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"But you genuinely believe that you're better than others because you're pureblood."

Draco was surprised that he hadn't said it in his usual sarcastic tone. He was stating it, a fact.

"I do."

"Why?"

Draco thought about that for a long moment. He had never actually thought about why he thought that, it was just something that he did. He thought that they were better than others because they were untainted, because they had more power, and were supposed to rule over them.

"It's because that's what your father taught you, right?"

Slowly, Malfoy nodded. He had never thought of it that way, but now that Evans said it he wondered why he hadn't. He was a replica of his father, regurgitating all of his words.

"Let me tell you a story, Malfoy," Evans said softly, his eyes far away. "It's about a king who was tricked by a witch, costing him the life of someone he loved. Because of this he grew to hate magic and all those who practiced it, and so he decided to outlaw magic under pain of death and he slaughtered everyone accused of it."

"But—" Draco frowned. "That was just the deed of one witch! Not everyone who uses magic is the same!"

"The king was too blinded by hate to see that. He taught his son to persecute magic users as well. He taught him that magic was evil, and that everyone who used magic was evil and must be destroyed." Evans broke his gaze from the window, turning to look at Draco. "Just because your father tells you something, doesn't make it true, Malfoy. You have to decide for yourself, and understand that the actions of one person do not reflect those of a nation."

Evans got to his feet, walking toward his bed. Draco stared after him.

"Did the son?"

"What?"

"Did the son decide for himself?"

And Evans smiled, a sad wistful smile that did not belong on such a young face. "Eventually. But when he did, he was great because of it."