[19]

Thought You Ought To Know

"But, how did the troll get in?"

The Slytherin house had been returned to their common room once it was realized that the troll had, apparently, wandered out of the dungeons. All of the sofas and chairs had been pushed back against the walls, and instead several tables had been set with the Halloween feast upon them. Merlin and the other first years had snagged a table to themselves, and were deep in conversation about the earlier excitement.

Merlin had slipped back down to the first floor and then catching sight of a few green cloaks had followed the crowd back up the stairs. But what had surprised him was that Draco had entered the library after him.

"Where were you?" Merlin had asked him, taking a seat at a table with Blaise and Theodore. Crabbe and Goyle had been pacing, almost panicked behind them until they had seen Draco.

"I got swept up by the crowd," Draco had replied shortly, and any other conversation was drowned out by an announcement by Madam Pince, the librarian. They had taken care of the troll, and it safe for Slytherin to return back to their dormitory. She had led them back down the stairs and into the dungeons. Merlin had caught sight of teachers rushing to the second floor, and after Madam Pince had dropped them off she hurried away as well.

No doubt they had discovered his handy-work.

Merlin didn't feel guilty. He had killed many magical creatures in his time; even led others to kill for him. He had never felt guilty for any of them, and that was because they had threatened to harm the people he cared most about. He had even killed another human being before – and though the memory made him feel cold – he knew he'd do it again. Anything for the safety of his friends and his home.

"Maybe Peeves let it in for a joke," Blaise suggested, loading his plate with roast chicken. "I've heard most of his jokes are dangerous."

The house of Slytherin was thankfully saved from Peeves' torments by the Bloody Baron – the only ghost that he respected and feared. Merlin hadn't even seen Peeves since he'd come to Hogwarts, but he'd heard of how the poltergeist dropped things on students' heads and pelted them with chalk.

"Professor Quirrell might know," Theodore suddenly put in. He was munching on a caramel apple. "Didn't Terrence say he was some sort of troll expert?"

Merlin turned very quickly to Theo. "Wait, really?"

"Some expert, he mumbled, "said thought you ought to know," and fainted right in front of the high table," Blaise said with a dark chuckle.

Merlin glanced beside him to Draco, and found that the blond was staring at him. When their eyes met though, he quickly looked away and started poking at his food. "You all right?" Merlin asked, noting how he wasn't actually eating anything. "You look kinda pale."

"Fine." Draco put his fork down. "You know, I'm not very hungry. Think I'm going to turn in," and he grabbed an apple as he got up and hurried up the stairs to the dormitory. Merlin glanced back at Blaise and raised his eyebrow.

"Oh, don't worry about him," Blaise said with a shrug. "Probably embarrassed. You should have seen the look of horror on his face when Quirrell said there was a troll."

Merlin nodded and grabbed some more dressing, slopping it all over his meal. He couldn't remember feeling so hungry. Sleeping all the time must have stunted his appetite. "So," he said. "You said Quirrell knew there was troll first?"

Blaise nodded. "Probably saw it on his way to the feast or something."

"Maybe we should ask him," Merlin said, thinking aloud. He might not like Quirrell at all – though if the professor had an affinity for trolls that could explain the strange feeling he got toward him – but he might know something.

Blaise laughed at his suggestion though. "I doubt you'll get anything. He might just faint at the mention."

Merlin frowned, but nodded all the same. Something didn't feel right.

The next morning, Merlin rose early and headed down to the common room, his thoughts in a jumble. He didn't want to talk to Quirrell directly, mostly because he didn't want to make the professor suspicious – particularly if there was something going on. But if two students came to the professor out of curiosity, it wouldn't be so weird, would it?

Merlin glanced up the stairs to see Draco heading down. From the look of it, he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night. He had dark smudges beneath his eyes, and he still looked pale. Worry creased Merlin's brow – was Draco getting sick?

"Hey," he said by way of greeting.

Draco looked up, saw him, and stopped dead. "Hey," he replied though it felt awkward. Merlin saw him fidget.

"You don't look so good," Merlin said. "Feeling sick?"

Draco nodded slowly.

Merlin waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. "Um, want to go up with me to talk to Quirrell? I want to ask him about the troll." But at the mention of the troll, Draco seemed to pale even further. What was wrong with him? He didn't think that a troll would have scared Draco this badly.

"You know—I think I'm going to go up to the infirmary," Draco muttered, brushing past him.

"Yeah, okay," Merlin said watching him go. He felt an impulse to go after him, but Draco hadn't asked for company. He probably didn't like showing weakness to anybody – Arthur was a bit like that.

Shaking his head, Merlin ran a hand through his hair. Well, he didn't want to go up to Quirrell's alone. To be honest he didn't feel like talking to the professor at all – but he did want to know about the troll. He stood there for a moment, thinking. Maybe he should ask Snape – he would have gone with them to take care of the troll, right? Maybe he knew something about how it got in and if he was lucky, maybe he knew a bit about Quirrell too.

Only A Boy

He had never been so confused.

Draco tore through the halls, nearly running into some poor Hufflepuff as he rounded the corner. The boy stumbled, then spluttered but Draco had left him in the dust by the time he heard something that sounded like a fearful apology. Well, at least some of his reputation remained. The Slytherin came to a pause. He looked down the corridor, a chill causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

Merlin had killed a troll, just over there.

Draco wanted to move away from the spot, but he couldn't. It was so surreal that he was sure he'd dreamed it. Merlin? The Merlin that he had just talked to in the common room? It just didn't seem possible. And yet Draco knew it had really happened. The sickening feeling in his gut told him so.

He set off again so abruptly that he skipped, and he rounded the corner to the library. He would deal with his own understanding of what had happened soon enough, first he had to protect his friend. Draco entered the library and looked around. It was rather empty this morning – after all who would be studying over the weekend? He walked among the shelves, glancing down the rows, searching for someone with bushy brown hair.

He found her in the wandless magic section, thoughtfully searching for something. Draco glanced around, and then snuck up behind her. He clamped his hand over her mouth and started pulling her back behind to a little secret studying alcove. She made a terrified squeak but nothing that anyone would overhear. The instant they were out of sight of anyone walking through the library, he let her go. Hermione Granger whirled around and shot him a hard glare, though he caught her eyes dashing to the only exit and he resisted the urge to smile.

It was somehow gratifying to know that he scared her.

"Did you tell anyone about what happened last night?" he ground out, taking a menacing step toward her. She better not have spilled to any of her lion friends. "Did you?" he repeated taking his wand out of his pocket.

"Of course I haven't!" the Granger girl replied hotly, her hand moving to her pocket too, as though getting ready to grab her own wand. Draco's lip curled in a very Snape-like manner.

"Make sure it stays that way."

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you, the Godfather?"

"I wouldn't be caught dead petting a cat," he snapped back. The girl gave him a very startled expression, and for a moment she was silent. She probably hadn't expected him to catch the reference – it was a muggle movie after all. Well, the things she didn't know about him could fill a book. He shook his head. "If someone finds out about it, it'll cause a panic. They'll think Merlin's a budding Dark Lord."

Granger glanced up at him. "Merlin, a Dark Lord?" she asked skeptically, but her expression looked worried.

Draco nodded, grim faced. "My father told me that the Dark Lord was a prodigy," he drawled. "He would brag about how his first murder had been done while he was still a student – or so my father had been told." She probably knew about the rumors of his father being allied with the Dark Lord, but that didn't mean he had to confirm them. His father would be furious if he knew his son was having this conversation right now.

"But Merlin's the kindest person I've ever met!" Granger protested. And she definitely had a point – Merlin was a huge muggle lover and he didn't think that that was faked.

"Other people won't see it like that!" he shot back, and he stuffed his wand back into his robes. "Old supporters of the Dark Lord might target him and try to push him into taking over the job, and everyone else will panic over that possibility. Either way, it will cause trouble." He knew that his father would try to push Merlin into the dark arts if he knew. And personally, if he didn't know Merlin like he did, he would have been sure that Merlin would go dark.

Granger didn't speak for a long moment. "I won't tell anyone," she finally said in a half-whisper. She took a step back and leaned against one of the tables there. "I've never even heard of anything like that before," she continued and Draco didn't need to ask her what she was talking about.

"Neither have I."

"And it was wandless. We don't start studying that until sixth year, but he did it like it was nothing. I'm not sure even Dumbledore could do something like that." Draco didn't respond, and instead gave a sullen nod. He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared. Merlin honestly scared him, the magnitude of his raw power was unlike anything he'd ever heard of. And for the first time Draco thought that Merlin's name suited him perfectly.

"Do you think we should just ask him—" Granger started to say but Draco cut her off with a shake of his head.

"No. He won't tell us anything, or worse, he might just wipe our memories," he said. He had no doubt now that Merlin would be able to do so.

"But we're his friends," Granger said. "He wouldn't do that."

Draco shook his head again. "For the last several weeks Merlin's been sneaking out at night and even though I caught him at it, he wouldn't tell me anything." Had he been sneaking off to practice magic in an empty classroom or something? "He keeps everything close to the vest, so we'll just have to wait until he tells us what's going on."

Granger bit her lip. "Do you really think he'll tell us?"

Draco sighed and sat down on one of the tables as well. "One can hope."

Granger was quiet for another long moment. "Are you sure we're right about him?" she asked softly. "What if we're wrong? What if he is as dangerous as we fear?"

But Draco didn't have an answer for her, because the same thought had been plaguing his mind since that night.

Only A Boy

Perhaps it was a mark of how comfortable Merlin had become with the Potions Professor that he felt perfectly fine barging into the man's office without so much as a knock. It also probably meant something that Snape didn't even look up from some paperwork on his desk.

"Are you incapable of understanding the concept of knocking?" Snape said as he signed something and flipped to another page.

"No, I just don't see the point of it." Merlin flashed a cheeky smile, and waited for some snappish retort. When it didn't happen, he asked slowly, "Are you all right, professor?" He was used to the professor's sallow complexion but today he seemed particularly pale, almost ill.

"What do you want, Evans?" Snape put his quill aside and looked up at him, rubbing his temples. "I don't have the energy to entertain your every whim today."

Merlin surveyed him for a long moment before finally nodding. "I just wanted to ask about the troll," he said, taking a seat in the chair opposite the professor's desk. "If that's all right," he quickly added – feeling a bit strange at seeing the man so deflated. Snape didn't reply for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, something of a wince on his face, and procured a vial from his robes and downed it.

"The situation had already been resolved by the time I got there," he explained, but Merlin heard a slight hesitation in his voice. They had probably all agreed to keep the fact that the troll was taken care of by some unknown person quiet. "Professor Quirrell seems to think that the troll had been drawn by the concentrated magical power pouring out of the school, and wandered inside while everyone was at dinner."

Merlin didn't miss the skepticism in the professor's tone. It somehow reassured him that Snape didn't like Quirrell either – even if everyone else claimed that it was merely because of petty reasons. "He was the one who found it, right?"

Snape nodded. "Said the thing was in the dungeons," and Merlin got the impression that he was actually talking to himself.

Wait.

How did the troll get to the second floor so quickly? It had lumbered around, and honestly moved rather slowly. Not to mention the fact that between the time that Quirrell had alerted everyone to the troll's presence and the evacuation to the common rooms had been only a few minutes – if the troll had trudged up to the second floor during that time someone else would have seen it. And if the troll had been in the dungeons, what on earth had Quirrell been doing heading up to the forbidden third floor corridor?

"Even though he has a so called "affinity" with trolls, he didn't really take charge, did he?" Merlin asked casually.

"That would be putting it mildly," the professor glowered. Merlin waited for him to continue, but Snape didn't seem keen on the topic. It was a little frustrating, to tell the truth. The more questions he asked, the more likely Snape would realize he was fishing but he needed to know!

"You knew him before, right? Some of the older students said that Quirrell's changed," he remarked.

"I did." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "He was the muggle studies professor then, and he was irritating. Ever since his year Sabbatical he—"

"What's a sabbatical?" Merlin interrupted, furrowing his brow.

Snape gave him a stern look that told him he didn't appreciate being interrupted. "He took some time off to travel. Gain a better perspective of the world or something equally ridiculous. If you ask me, Albania rattled his brains a bit."

"O—oh." Merlin's heart had jumped into his throat. Worried that Snape might notice the effect this news had on him, Merlin quickly said, "Or maybe it was the zombie, you know, the one he pretends to have gotten rid of."

Snape smirked. "Maybe."

Merlin got jerkily to his feet, his mind racing. Albania, the place where Voldemort had gone into hiding. It was too much of a coincidence. "I'll stop bothering you, Draco's probably waiting for me in the common room anyway," he lied smoothly. Snape gave him a nod and Merlin exited the office, trying not to run. When he hit the hallway though, he dashed up the stairs. He had to make sure. He had to be positive. Merlin had never acted before gaining proof that someone meant to do harm – Gaius had always reminded him that being wrong could be disastrous. When he skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom he'd formed a plan.

He entered without knocking. The classroom was vacant on a weekend, and he walked inside. He tripped on one of the chairs that hadn't been pushed in correctly, and a screech sounded as the wood scrapped against the stone floor.

"W-who's t-there?" called the nervous voice of Professor Quirrell, and the next minute he had poked his head out of his office door on the balcony above the classroom.

"It's just me," Merlin said pushing the chair back into place. At the blank look on the professor's face he continued, "Merlin Evans?" Still blank. "I'm a first year Slytherin student."

"Oh. R-right." Merlin was pretty sure that Quirrell was recalling his name on a roster or something. "W-what c-c-can I d-do for you?" he asked as he descended the banister and came to stand at the front of the classroom.

"I was just curious," Merlin said taking a seat on top one of the desks in the front row. "I heard that you took a year to travel Europe, and I was interested in doing something like that after I graduate." Merlin gave him a convincing smile, even though his heart was beating out a horse race. "I was hoping you could give me some advice.

Quirrell blinked. "I d-don't k-know if I'm the b-best p-person to ask," he said delicately. He wrung his hands together.

"But you went to so many places! And that zombie thing, well I must say that's pretty amazing," Merlin said, inwardly cringing at the sappy compliment. At least it worked; Quirrell seemed to puff out his chest slightly. "Can you please tell me about all the places you went to, you know like what was good and what I should avoid?"

Although the professor seemed rather hesitant to discuss it at first, he was soon rambling about his adventure. It was difficult to follow due to the stuttering sometimes, but Merlin wasn't really interested. Although, it did seem like no one had ever asked Quirrell how it had been. He got the impression that Quirrell had been waiting for someone to ask for a very long time.

But he completely avoided talking about Albania, much to Merlin's dismay.

"—And t-then the c-chief g-gave me this t-turban," Quirrell was saying. "Nice p-p-place, but I d-definitely wouldn't r-recommend it. T-too hot."

"Sounds amazing though," Merlin said. Well, there was nothing for it. "Have you ever been to Albania?" he asked. "I've always wanted to go."

The professor's demeanor, which had relaxed during the course of the conversation, suddenly grew tense again. "W-why d-do you ask?" Quirrell asked with a nervous laugh. "That's not a very interesting place."

His stutter had disappeared.

Merlin felt all the blood drain from his hands as his legs itched to run. Every instinct was telling him to back off, that to push any more would not only be dangerous but stupid. But he'd always been reckless. "Oh, I don't know about that," he said evenly. "Isn't that where Voldemort was last rumored to be?"

Quirrell gave his little nervous laugh. "W-well I d-d-didn't see h-him." He glanced down at his watch. "M-my how t-the time f-flies, I should r-really t-try to f-finish g-grading these r-reports."

"Of course." And Merlin practically jumped off the desk he was sitting on. He started walking back through the desks before pausing, and turning back to the professor. Quirrell was still standing where he'd left him, watching him walk away and something about the nervous smile irked him so much that he threw over his shoulder, "By the way professor, the troll was on the second floor not the dungeons."

Quirrell didn't bat an eyelash.

"Just thought you ought to know," Merlin quipped with a smirk. He didn't look back as he left the classroom. And he didn't see how the nervous smile slid off the professor's face.

Only A Boy

Was Merlin a good guy?

Hermione took her time walking back up to Gryffindor tower, the question churning her stomach. She wanted to believe that he was. She never would have questioned Merlin before, but that much power. Was it even possible for a kid to have that much power and not fall into darkness? As much as she disliked him, Draco Malfoy had a point. If someone else found out, they'd surely think that Merlin was some sort of young Dark Lord. The fact that he was a Slytherin made everything worse. It made her wonder whether or not he really was just another bomb waiting to go off.

Hermione paused in front of the portrait of the fat lady, hesitant to enter the common room. She felt betrayed, to be honest. Merlin had been one of her first friends at this school; he hadn't teased her for her excessive studying habits. If that had all been nothing more than a lie – well, she wasn't sure what she'd do.

The portrait swung forward and Fred clambered out, closely followed by his twin. "I'm telling you, they—" he was saying, but when he saw Hermione he abruptly stopped talking. "Hermione, what a pleasant surprise."

"Fred. George." Hermione nodded to both of them.

George raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right?" he asked giving a significant glance toward his brother. "Halloween give you a good scare?"

Hermione blinked. "Something like that." What was with the cryptic looks? Did they know something too? But that was impossible; they hadn't been there.

Fred returned George's glance with one of his own. "Don't worry, trolls don't normally get into the castle. I'm sure the professor's won't let it happen again."

"Right." Hermione brushed past them, but before she walked through the portrait hole she paused and looked back at the twins. They had been friends with Merlin since before term started, right? She could still remember how they came to help her and Neville when Malfoy was bulling them. And Merlin had been right with them. "Is Merlin a good guy?"

George blinked. "What makes you ask that?" he said cocking his head to the side. "Something happen?"

Hermione gave an awkward one-shoulder shrug. "He's really good friends with Malfoy, and I just—" she trailed off, unsure what else to say. "And he's not that good," she finished deflating slightly.

George chuckled. "Merlin is many things, but he certainly isn't bad." He took a step toward her and patted her head. "He's one of the best. Trust us on that." And he smiled before walking away with Fred beside him. Hermione watched them go for a moment. How did they know that for sure, though? Would they still think that if they knew what Merlin had done, or would they also think he's a rising Dark Lord?

Miserable, Hermione walked into the common room. Since there weren't any classes, it was full of people and none of them were studying. Hermione took a small table in the far corner, dumping her bag on top of it. When in doubt, she studied, so that was what she was going to. She pulled out several books on wandless magic that she'd checked out from the library and began to read them, hoping to find the spell that Merlin had used.

"Uh, hey."

Hermione blinked and looked up. Ron Weasley was standing in front of her, looking awkward. "Hey," she replied and she turned her attention back to a list of wandless spells that made white light.

"Would it be all right—I mean—can I sit here?"

Hermione shrugged and she heard the scrape of a chair as Ron took the seat opposite her. He didn't say anything for several moments. Hermione flipped the page to the beginning of chapter two.

"So—are you still hanging around that uh—Evans kid?"

Hermione glanced up at him. He didn't sound like he was trying to start a fight. She closed her book with a snap. "I am," she replied evenly. "What of it?"

"Nothing—nothing. Just curious," Ron said quickly. He looked at the book she was holding. "Wandless magic? We don't study that for years!" he exclaimed.

Hermione swallowed. "I was just curious about it," she told him delicately. "I don't know much about it."

"My dad says that it's one of the hardest things to do," Ron said with a shrug. "Especially when it's coupled with silent spells."

Which was what Merlin did. "Yeah," Hermione said slowly. "I heard that it was something Dumbledore could do, so I wanted to look it up," she lied. Well, it wasn't completely a lie. She fidgeted, wondering why he was even talking to her in the first place.

"So," she said glancing around the room. She saw Lavender petting her cat by the fireplace. "What animal did you bring?" she asked.

"Oh, I have Scabbers." And out of his pocket he pulled out a light brown rat. Hermione recoiled, wondering why on earth he kept the thing in his pocket. "Did you?" he asked with a small smile.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't think it'd be a good idea." Her free time was spent studying, not taking care of an animal. Plus, her dad was allergic to cats and her mom had been worried the neighbors would see the owl.

Ron nodded. "Does Merlin—"

"What do you want, Ron?" Hermione interrupted. "You didn't come over here to make small talk."

For a moment, Ron didn't say anything and then, "I want to talk to him."

"You want to talk to Merlin," Hermione repeated blankly. She could remember the last time the two of them had talked – it'd ended in two bookcases collapsing. "Why?"

"Just set it up, please?" Ron said folding his arms. When Hermione raised an eyebrow he added, "I promise I won't try to hit him." A pause. "Or hex him."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Hermione muttered, the troll once more flashing through her mind.

"Well, just run it past him, all right?" And he got up. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, changed his mind and walked quickly away. Hermione stared after him, wondering what had gotten into him.

Only A Boy

Damn that dog.

He had been in agony all day. At least he hadn't had any classes, Snape thought bitterly. Just sitting at his desk had been nearly unbearable, and he cringed at the thought of standing on it all day to give lectures. He couldn't even go to madam Pomfrey because she would completely freak out with worry – and he wasn't half the healer she was. Hagrid's mongrel had something in its salvia, he was sure of it, and it was fighting against his potions.

Damn. That. Bloody. Dog.

As he put all his papers into a folder, the door to his office burst open. For the second time that day, Evans strode in as if he owned the place. Snape glared at him – he didn't have the energy to deal with him right now. His leg hurt and all he wanted was to lie down in his bed.

"What is it, Evans?" he barked.

But the boy didn't speak. He paced once in front of his desk, jerked to a stop and then released a loud hiss that could only be of frustration. He glanced at Snape, seemed to want to say something, and then as quickly as he had come he'd gone. Snape glowered after him, his lip curling. Good riddance. Now was not a good time. And then he remembered that the last time Merlin had barged into his office had been followed by being out in the grounds after curfew.

For a moment, Snape just stared at his office door. And then he got to his feet. "Damn that boy," he grumbled.

Only A Boy

Merlin couldn't tell professor Snape what he had realized. Aside from the fact that it sounded too ludicrous to be real, he didn't have any proof. Not physical proof anyway, nothing that would stand up before a jury. He'd wanted to tell him, God he did. He would have told Gaius after all, and then the old man would have given him some excellent advice. Which he might or might not follow, but more to the point he needed to warn somebody. The school was in danger and no one seemed to know that except him.

But right now, he was going to find out what Quirrell had been doing on the third floor corridor last night.

He must have released the troll himself in order to cause a distraction. Whatever was on that floor must be important to both him and Tom, and if he was going to find any sort of proof it was a good place to start. Merlin had made a beeline for the corridor the instant he left Snape's office, racing through the hallways. Curfew was only a few minutes away now, so no one should see him. He took the stairs two at a time and reached his destination breathless.

It seemed that not even Filtch ventured here. The corridor had a stuffy smell to it and spiders had started spinning their webs behind empty torch holders and in the helmets of armored suits, which had lost their shining glow. Merlin looked cautiously around and began walking, noting some animalistic magic hanging in the air. Was it the last remnants of the troll that hadn't had time to vanish?

Merlin came to the end of the corridor. Before him was a sturdy looking door with metal reinforcements in with the wood and a double lock. Well, Merlin considered that suspicious so he took hold of the handle and with a whispered spell, pulled the door open.

"What—"

Merlin wasn't sure what he had expected, but this certainly wasn't it. He was engulfed in a stench of animalistic magic so strong that he staggered, his senses completely overpowered. The door must have been enchanted in some way to keep the bulk of the energy behind it. And before him, standing atop a trap door in the floor, with coarse brown hair was bristling, it's hackles raised, were three sets of yellowish teeth pulled back and dripping saliva onto the floor. For a moment, Merlin could only stare at the creature that did not belong in a school. The middle head let out a thunderous bark and it leapt forward, jaws extending toward his arm.

Something seized his collar and jerked him backward, casting him to the floor with a hard thud. Merlin grimaced and looked up in time to see Severus Snape magic the door shut once more. Merlin could still hear the booming barks and growls of the beast within.

Snape turned to him and Merlin actually cringed. He'd seen the professor mad, but this had to be a new record. Snape was taking deep breaths, his eyes popping with fury. And the worst part was that Merlin knew he couldn't talk his way out of this one. "Just looking for the bathroom," was not going to cut it.

"You have thirty seconds," Snape whispered, the deadly calm in his voice almost more terrifying than the anger in his face, "to explain what you are doing before I expel you."

And Merlin didn't think he was joking.

"I—I—" he spluttered, glancing hopelessly toward the door.

"Fifteen seconds."

Merlin shut his eyes. He was doomed anyway. "Quirrell lied," he exclaimed, wincing as the secret fell from his lips. "The troll was never in the dungeons, it was standing guard on the second floor while he headed up here. I just wanted to know why." With his eyes shut, he had no idea what expression the professor was wearing now. His thirty seconds were up and he waited for the hammer to fall. How was he supposed to accomplish his new destiny if he wasn't at Hogwarts?

"Who told you we found the troll on the second floor?"

Merlin opened his eyes. Snape was staring at him with an unfathomable expression on his face. He swallowed. "I-I'm sworn to secrecy."

Snape closed the distance between them with one stride and picked Merlin up from the ground by the scruff of his shirt, looking right into his eyes. "I overheard some students talking—" Merlin tried to say but Snape set him onto his feet with a jolt and grabbed his chin.

"Don't lie to me, boy."

Snape was trying to intimidate him, to scare him. Merlin's bright blue eyes narrowed, and he pushed Snape's hand roughly away. "No one told me," he snapped. "I found out on my own."

"Oh really?" Snape's voice was hard and sarcastic. "I suppose you'll also find out what it's like being expelled."

A stone dropped in Merlin's stomach. "What? No—" But Snape wasn't listening. He had started to walk back down the corridor. Merlin was insulted. After everything, after all the times he'd come to the professor, and all their conversations he didn't believe him? Well, Merlin wasn't going anywhere. Not a chance.

"No one told me," he shouted but Snape didn't turn around. Merlin's hands balled into fists. "The troll was twelve feet tall, and smelled like rotted meat and toilet," he hollered. Snape froze in the hallway. "And when it died," Merlin went on, "it fell to the ground on its face, it's club cracking part of the tiling."

Snape turned back around very slowly, his expression hidden by the dim light of the corridor.

"And when it charged," Merlin continued savagely, taking a step toward him, "I put a curse through its heart."

"Y-you?" Snape spluttered. "That's impossible, a child couldn't have—"

"Look, I don't expect you to believe me," Merlin interrupted coolly. "Just trust me, Quirrell is up to something and he needs to be stopped, and whatever that dog is guarding has something to do with it!" He was out of breath when he finished. Snape didn't speak for several moments.

"What spell did you use?"

Merlin met his gave evenly. He had used a Druid spell, and he doubted if Snape had ever heard of it. "Onbaerne," he said.

Snape gave a very stiff nod. He looked down to the entrance of the corridor, and then back to Merlin. "You have been honest with me, and so I shall be honest with you."

"How very kind of you."

"And I can see that if I don't tell you, you're going to go off and do something stupid again," Snape continued.

"A fair assumption," and Merlin managed to flash him a smile.

Snape nodded, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. For several moments there was silence between them, and then Snape pulled up his black robes to show one of his legs, which was heavily bandaged. Merlin stared at him.

"Quirrell has been on my radar for quite some time. On Halloween night, I knew he would head for the third floor while everyone else was headed to the dungeons, so I tried to cut him off," Snape dropped his robes and grimaced. "I'm sure you noticed that three against one are unfavorable odds."

Merlin glanced back toward the door that hid the monstrous dog. "What's under the trap door?" he shot.

Snape heaved a sigh. "That dog is guarding a Philosopher's Stone. Dumbledore is safe keeping it for a friend of his."

Merlin swallowed. He knew exactly what that stone could do, and he knew how many lives had been lost because of one. "Someone tried to steal it, that day in Diagon Alley."

Snape nodded. "We suspected an attempt would be made, so it was moved here." Merlin wondered if he knew that it was Voldemort himself who had been part of that attempt.

Snape took a step back toward him. "It's important that no one knows about this."

Merlin held his head high. "And it's important no one knows my part. Not even Dumbledore."

The corner of Snape's lip lifted in a smirk. "Not even Dumbledore."

Only A Boy

Severus Snape had a mountain of secrets.

Most of them weren't even his. They belonged to someone else who had trusted him enough. But sometimes Snape wished he didn't have to carry them around. He definitely hadn't wanted to know that one of his students had killed a mountain troll. The entire staff had been in an uproar over the incident – who had done it? It had been the question of the century, and now Snape knew.

It had been Merlin Evans.

God, that kid was one mystery after another. And the spell he'd said he had used, well Snape had never heard of it before. And then there was the sheer amount that Evans had managed to discover. He actually felt a little proud that the snake had seen Quirrell for what he really was – he wasn't a complete imbecile after all.

Snape ascended the staircase to the headmaster's office. Before he had even reached his office, he'd received an urgent message from Dumbledore. Memos were really more of a ministry thing, but they did in a pinch. He preferred using a patronus himself. Part of him wanted to confide in the headmaster, to ask him for advice concerning this matter. Snape was actually worried about Merlin. He was worried about what he was capable of and what he might do in the future.

What kind of path he might go down.

But he would keep his promise. He knew that Merlin had been scared of anyone finding out. The boy was smart enough to realize what others might think. And, since Merlin was also keeping some of his secrets now he owed it to him. Plus, Dumbledore would be more than a little upset to find out that Snape had told the kid what was going on. The man didn't think that children were capable of carrying the burden that came real life drama. Snape, on the other hand, was positive Merlin could handle it.

Snape knocked on the headmaster's door once before entering. Dumbledore was standing in front of his desk, and he looked up when Snape walked inside. His expression was very grave; some of the twinkle in his eye had gone out. Beside him was none other than the Bloody Baron. Snape stared at him. He had never seen a ghost set foot inside this office. Snape directed a questioning brow to Dumbledore.

And Dumbledore cleared his throat. "There has been a complication, Severus."