Don't Worry About It

Something had happened.

Hermione glanced at the Slytherin table again, chewing her tongue, fork suspended above her untouched kippers. Normally, Merlin and Draco slept in on Sunday, meeting up with her later in the library. And yet, there they were, seated apart from the rest of their early rising classmates.

Merlin hadn't touched his breakfast either. He was deep in conversation with Draco, his eyes flickering towards their classmates and then up to the high table where Professor Snape was drinking pumpkin juice. As she watched them, Draco looked up and met her eyes. He said something to Merlin, and his blue gaze snapped to her as well.

Slowly, Merlin shifted his gaze toward the main entry hall before returning to her. Hermione stared at him, and after a second he repeated the moment, his head bending slightly toward the large doors. Figuring that meant he wanted a word, she nodded and as one they got to their feet.

She raised her eyebrow as they neared, though Draco shook his head with a meaningful look at Merlin and led the way out towards the grounds.

What was going on?

Thick dark grey clouds churned in the sky above, heavy with the promise of rain. Hermione shivered in the cool autumn breeze. If they were planning to take a stroll around the lake, she'd need to run back for her cloak. The pair of them stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around to face her.

The silence dragged.

"Well?" she demanded finally, rubbing her arms for warmth. "What's going on? Why couldn't we have talked inside?"

"Didn't want to risk being overheard," Draco said, and he looked around them.

Hermione felt a touch of impatience. "By all means, take your time," she said narrowing her eyes. "I'm not freezing or anything."

"Draco's just being overly cautious," Merlin said shaking his head. "Last night, as we were leaving the library I heard something. A voice—it said it was going to kill someone."

Hermione stared at him. "What?" she breathed, "Did you see who it was?"

"More like, what."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning now.

Merlin sighed. "I'm a Parselmouth," he said simply.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Her mind drew up a hundred different references to the language she'd gleaned from her readings, boiling it all down to a concise definition: The rare ability to understand and speak the language of snakes, commonly associated with dark magic due to the fact that most Parselmouths could track their lineage back to the most famous speaker, Salazar Slytherin himself.

Hermione looked from Draco to Merlin, and suddenly she understood why they'd dragged her out into the cold. But one thing at a time. She swallowed. "So," she said slowly, "You're telling me you think that there's a snake in the castle that's going to kill someone?"

Merlin nodded and Hermione felt her stomach clenched painfully. She glanced at Draco who was surveying her with a guarded expression, his grey eyes narrowed.

"What?" she asked, shortly.

"You know how important this is, don't you?" Draco said, folding his arms. "Don't go telling any of your Gryffindor friends that Merlin can speak Parseltongue."

"I know that!" Hermione snapped huffily. Hadn't she kept every other secret? "If anything," she added, "I'm worried you'll run off to tell your father!"

Draco's lip curled, but Merlin cleared his throat loudly before he could speak.

"Come on, you two," he said shaking his head. "Hermione's not going to tell anyone," and he smiled at her, "and neither are you," he added, nodding to Draco.

Hermione heard Draco grumble something that sounded distinctly like, "I sure hope not," and rolled her eyes. She resolved to find at least one historical example of a Parselmouth who hadn't turned into a Dark Lord and shove it in Draco's snobbish—

"More to the point," Merlin said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There's a homicidal snake in the school."

"And you don't want to tell the professors because of the Parseltongue, right." Hermione frowned, wracking her brain. "Could you use your ability to sense animal magic?" she asked, thinking of the incident with the troll.

Merlin stared blankly at her for a second. "I don't know," he said sounding surprised. "I didn't notice it last night."

Hermione hummed, and she shivered when another gust of wind brushed through her hair. "Right, well either way we're going to have to go into the castle to search for this snake, and I'm freezing."

"Go look for it?" Draco repeated. "Did you miss the part about it wanting to kill someone?"

Hermione waved her hand and started leading the way back up to the castle. After a moment, Merlin and Draco followed her. "It's probably just a Boomslang that escaped from Care of Magical Creatures. You said it yourself, you didn't notice a potent magical aura, so it couldn't have been that big."

She could tell that Merlin didn't entirely agree with her. He'd started chewing his tongue, and he glanced at Draco.

"She has a point."

Merlin still didn't look convinced. One of his hands rose to his temple and he rubbed small circles, massaging the point. Hermione wanted to ask what he thought it might be, before deciding against it. She was confident it was nothing. No doubt he'd let his imagination run away with him since last night, helped along by Draco scaring him with Parseltongue's sinister reputation.

The warmth of the entrance hall burned her fingers and ears. Hermione rubbed her hands together. "Even if it is something else," she said, "we still have to find it, don't we?"

Merlin sighed. "Yeah," and he scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, let's find this thing."

He led the way to the third floor corridor, where he'd heard it the first time. Hermione watched as Merlin cocked his head slightly to the right, trying to hear something other than their footsteps and the cheerful conversation of students enjoying their Sunday. After a few moments however, he frowned, shook his head and they moved on to the next corridor.

Hermione had never explored the castle like this before. It was even fun—if you forgot the part about the homicidal snake. At one point, Merlin seemed to hear something and rushed forward, only to stop when they came to a painting with two sapphire blue snakes eyeing a yellow canary in the branches of a Mulungu tree.

"Could you understand them?" Hermione asked as they left the portrait behind them.

"Not here!" Draco hissed through his teeth, looking almost paranoid as he craned his neck to look around but the corridor was deserted.

Merlin sighed. "Yes," he answered. At the look on Draco's face he added, "Oh stop it, there's no one around."

Draco shook his head and stormed ahead, as though deciding he needed to keep lookout.

"They were discussing how best to catch the canary," Merlin continued. "It sounded like they've been at it a while."

Hermione giggled. "That's amazing! So, if I put a common garden snake in front of you—"

"I could talk to it, yeah."

"How long have you known?" she asked as they turned a corner and started ascending another staircase.

Merlin paused. "A long time," he said, though he refused to elaborate more much to Hermione's disappointment.

When they'd reached the top of the staircase, Hermione recognized the corridor. "We're right by the Astronomy tower," she said.

Draco groaned. "Brilliant, and here I thought my legs were burning." He shook his head, "Anything, Merlin?"

"Not yet." Merlin frowned, rubbing his temple.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, curious. He'd been doing that on and off since they'd started looking.

Merlin offered a weak smile. "Yeah, just a headache."

"Well, lets hurry up and hit the astronomy tower," Draco drawled. "Lunch should be soon, and I've had enough exercise for one day."

Merlin snorted with laughter. "You'd be terrible on a quest," he said and Draco shot him an offended look.

"I'd be brilliant," he retorted as they started walking down the hallway.

"If it only lasted a few hours long," Merlin countered and Hermione giggled. She couldn't help but repeat the word in her mind—quest, what an archaic idea.

Draco glowered at the pair of them but didn't have time to respond because he was pelted suddenly with chalk.

"Ouch! What the—"

There was a cackle of malicious laughter above them, and as one they looked up to see Peeves The Poltergeist floating on his stomach. His vivid orange eyes were gleeful, and he took a moment to straighten his orange bow tie and large hat adorned with bells before straightening up.

"Ooh, snakes and lions play together now, do they?" he chortled, flipping onto his back and circling around them.

"Leave us alone Peeves," Draco shot, lifting his head. "I'll tell the Bloody Baron."

This made Peeves cackle harder. He doubled over, clutching his belly. "Whatever will I do?" he said when he'd finished, flashing a wide toothy smile.

Draco swallowed, and Hermione caught Merlin's eye. They were in for it now. In a last ditch effort it seemed, Merlin cleared his throat and Peeves snapped towards him.

"Oh great and powerful Merlin," Peeves said, adopting an oily tone thick with sarcasm. "What an honor. Is it your turn to make a pitiful little threat, hm?"

Merlin looked somewhat taken aback by this. Hermione watched as he paused, his fingers considering a fist at his side before relaxing.

"Oh no," he said, holding up his hands. "I was just curious—you haven't seen a Boomslang roaming the halls, have you? It looks like one escaped Care of Magical Creatures. You know how poisonous they are, and we were sent to look for it before it fell into the wrong hands."

Peeves looked positively thrilled at the idea of a poisonous snake roaming the castle. He straightened up, bellowed, "Not if I find it first!" and he threw a whole handful of chalk into the air above their heads before zooming down the corridor. They could hear, "Oh snaky, oh snaky, where are you? In Filtch's mop bucket you belong," echoing behind him.

"Nice one," Draco said, inclining his head to Merlin.

"No it's not!" Hermione said, looking scandalized. "What if he actually finds it? Someone could get hurt!"

"Hermione, we've just searched the entire castle. It's not here," Merlin said shaking his head. "They must've already found it," he added in a much quieter tone that made Hermione think he was really talking to himself.

"Well," Draco said and he sneered, "Filtch won't die anyway. That stupid cat of his would probably eat the snake first. Anyway, let's go to lunch."

Only A Boy

Merlin disappeared into the undergrowth of the forbidden forest, his footfalls fast and light as he traversed the rugged terrain with practiced ease. He could feel rain misting against his face. He breathed in the sweet crispness, and for a moment he could forget everything; where he was, all the concerns plaguing his mind. He existed in a world outside of time and space, with nothing but the earth beneath his feet and the droplets of water against his skin for company.

Then he saw the clearing up ahead.

At the far end of the clearing, among the blackened tress, he could just see the shimmer of wet scales. Korrizahar turned his head toward Merlin and cocked it to the side, the young dragon obviously confused.

"Merlin," he said, and he stretched his wings, hopping into the air and crossing the length of the clearing in a single weightless bound. "What's wrong?"

Merlin took a deep breath and told him about the voice he had heard, and how Draco and Hermione had discovered he was a Parselmouth. When he'd finished, he could feel water dripping from his hair to his face and his cloak felt heavy and damp. He brushed his sodden bangs out of his aching eyes.

"So, you're still not convinced that it was just a Boomslang, then?" Kor asked after a long moment. The dragon had curled up in front of him, the heat of his scales evaporating the water in soft flumes of steam.

Merlin shook his head, "I don't—I mean," and he ran his hands through his soaking hair, "You should have heard it. That voice—I've never heard something so malevolent. I was convinced it was going to hurt someone."

"Was?" Kor prompted and Merlin sighed, plopping down onto the wet ground next to him.

"I don't know. No one has been hurt as far as I know, and as we didn't find anything—do you think I imagined it?"

A curl of smoke rose from Kor's nostrils. "I doubt it," the dragon replied. "Unless you're prone to such things?"

Merlin frowned. His instincts were usually pretty good. Maybe that's why he was so confused by the entire situation—nothing had happened. "I didn't think so," he said softly, and Kor cocked his head to the side again.

"Do you think you imagined it?"

Merlin wanted to say no but the word didn't quite make it past his lips. "I've been having a lot of headaches recently," he admitted, and he glanced up towards the darkened sky. "And it was late—maybe I wasn't thinking clearly."

Kor didn't reply immediately. He surveyed him for a long moment, and when Merlin looked back at him, the dragon scoffed. "Somehow I don't think you'd imagine something even if you were delirious with the flu."

Merlin wanted to smile, but it came out as a weak grimace. "How do you explain not finding anything, then?" he asked.

"Simple, the snake wasn't in the castle anymore." Kor got to his feet, stretching in a catlike manner before sitting up, wrapping his tail over his talons.

"So that's it?" Merlin said, "Don't worry about it?"

"Well, I mean, keep a weather eye," Kor said, doing a great impression of a shrug, "but I think your friend Hermione might have been right. There's no point worrying about it needlessly, Merlin. You did what you could with the information you had."

"Yeah." Merlin ran his hands through his hair again, this time more to brush away the build up of water. He felt like a weight had been removed from the pit of his stomach. Kor watched him for a moment before giving a large toothy smile.

"Allow me," and before Merlin could stop him, he blew a gust of fire-hot air in his direction. It felt like he'd been slammed in the face with an oven door, and Merlin staggered back, blinking his burning eyes.

"Whoops!"

"Whoops?" Merlin repeated, coughing. His face had gone numb. "Are you trying to set me on fire?"

"I just wanted to help dry you off!" Kor said, though he looked amused. Merlin felt his hair—sure it was dry now, but it felt like his ends had been singed.

"I think you need some practice," Merlin grumbled and another flume of smoke rose from Kor's nostrils.

"Oh really?"

"Wait—not on me!" Merlin said jumping out of the way from another blast of hot breath, laughing now. He caught the scent of charred wood and roast meat.

Kor sat back on his haunches, triumphant. "Feel better?" he asked, and Merlin smiled. He walked back around to rub the dragon's head.

"Yeah, thanks."

And he disappeared back into the undergrowth of the forbidden forest, finally able to push the memory of the voice out his mind.

Only A Boy

Ginny Weasley frowned down at the match on her desk, chewing her tongue. She was supposed to be turning it into a needle, but she couldn't concentrate. Her head felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish. It'd be just her luck if she'd caught that flu floating around Hogwarts.

The girl beside her had already transfigured her match and was appraising the metallic needle with a dreamy look on her face. She was smaller than Ginny, with willowy arms and snow-white hair that fell in a straight sheet to her shoulders. She'd introduced herself as Luna Lovegood their first day in class together, hailing from Ravenclaw house.

She was odder than the other Ravenclaws Ginny had met so far. She only had Transfiguration with them but they'd struck her as a grounded group—although she was quickly finding out that 'seeking knowledge' didn't necessarily apply to assigned classwork. But, Luna had come across as untethered, daydreaming during lectures instead of rigorously copying down notes like Ginny would've expected.

Though it was frustrating that she'd managed to transfigure her needle before Ginny had.

Screwing up her eyes, Ginny raised her wand again. From just behind her, she heard Jeffery Kingston mutter something to Colin Creevey, both Gryffindor boys in her year, and her attention was diverted towards the conversation.

"Did you hear what they call her?" she heard Jeffery say, a snicker in his voice.

"What?" Colin had a habit of sounding excited regardless of what the subject matter was, kind of like an over-eager puppy.

"Loony Lovegood. Get it? Because she's so—"

Ginny gritted her teeth and whirled around in her seat. "You'd better not finish that sentence," she hissed, her eyes flashing.

She watched as Jeffery's eyes shifted to her still raised wand and visibly swallow. "It's just what I heard," he tried to say with a weak laugh. It died quickly at the look on her face and he added, "Sorry!"

Ginny held his gaze for a second longer before turning back around in her seat, clearing her throat meaningfully and turning her attention back to the match on her desk.

"You didn't have to do that."

Ginny started and glanced at Luna Lovegood, who was appraising her with wide eyes. They were light blue, almost grey.

"They're just picking on you because they can't figure out how to transfigure their own needles," she said, shaking her head.

Luna stared at her for another moment, before breaking into a wide smile. The far-away look that was usually in her eyes had returned. "It's probably just the wrackspurts. I could see them all around those two. Do you want some help?" she asked, nodding towards Ginny's match.

Ginny was just wondering what on earth a wrackspurt was, when suddenly—she was sitting in the armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

She leapt to her feet and looked around, her heart beating so painfully fast that it hurt. What—what had just happened? Hadn't she just been in Transfiguration with Luna? No one else seemed to have noticed her sudden appearance, so she probably hadn't apparated. She didn't even know how to apparate!

Ginny glanced down at her hands and realized that she was holding her diary. She also noticed several long red feathers clinging to her robes, and as she watched one of them fell to the floor. Her mind went blank. She bent down to pick it up, twirling the scarlet feather in her hand. She recognized it—a rooster tail feather, just like from the ones back home.

But how had they ended up on her robes?

Almost feverishly, Ginny brushed off the other loose feathers from her robes and tossed them into the fire and sat down again, swallowing hard. She couldn't remember anything after Transfiguration class—not leaving, not walking back up to Gryffindor tower, nothing.

She glanced down at the diary she still held in her hands. Had she said something to Tom? Her breath coming in shallow waves, she looked around for her bag and spotted it on the side of her chair. She dug out a quill and nestled the inkbottle in-between her knees. After opening the diary and smoothing out a random page, Ginny dipped her quill and wrote:

Dear Tom, I've got feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there.

She watched as the letters sank into the page, holding her breath.

Ginny, you were just telling me how you ran into Hagrid, swinging one of his dead roosters. Are you feeling all right?

The words faded back into the page a moment later, and Ginny leaned back into her chair. She had been a little off color recently, even Percy had said so. Maybe she really was coming down with something.

I must have caught the flu that's going around campus.

Ah, well the Hogwarts flu season is starting. Take a nap maybe, or go to the infirmary. They should be able to fix you right up.

Yeah, I think I will. Thanks, Tom.

Anytime, Ginny.

She closed the inkwell and the diary, placing both in her bag. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that she had enough time to see Madam Pomfrey before dinner.

Only A Boy

October hit the castle in the form of torrential downpour and frozen corridors. Even with all the torches lit and fires burning in every room, the castle felt thick with cold, as if the stonewalls had developed the ability to leach warmth from the air. The cold was especially apparent down in the dungeons, where the damp caused ice to glaze the walls and their breath to form clouds of mist.

Even with a constant fire roaring in the Slytherin common room, several older students had created portable heaters and had situated them about the room. Merlin had one such heater at his table—it looked like a large stone jar, filled with blue flames that crackled every once and a while. He almost wished that an ember would fly out and burn his astronomy homework.

Or maybe he'd just chuck it in the fire and blame it on the heater anyway.

Merlin heard the telltale sound of rock scrapping against rock, and turned to see Draco trudging into the common room with his broom slung over his shoulder. He looked miserable. He caught sight of Merlin and wandered over, throwing himself into the chair opposite him and leaning forward to absorb some of the warmth from the heater.

"It took ages to wash the mud out from my hair," he grumbled, and he ran his hand through his hair as though making sure he hadn't missed a spot. "And my uniform was entirely soaked through. The weather better improve before the game or I'm likely to get frostbite."

"Practice went well, then?" Merlin asked, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. They had been aching most of the day. His headache—a near constant thing now—had settled somewhere at the back of his head, sending jabs of pain into his eyes every so often. It made concentrating on his homework nearly impossible.

Draco frowned. "Why don't they ask Flitwick to charm the stadium to repel water or something?"

"You could try asking him to charm your uniforms," Merlin said with a shrug.

Draco paused. "I could." He seemed to consider it for a moment, and then sighed. "So, how are you doing?"

Merlin saw Draco's eyes flicker down to his astronomy chart, and Merlin resisted the urge to cover it with his fingers. He had no doubt that the little he had managed to complete was wrong, and at this point it might be better to give up entirely. Merlin yawned, throwing back his arms in a stretch.

"Terrible. I think I'll head in early."

Draco stared at him. "It's not even curfew yet!"

Merlin shrugged and stood up. Instantly, his head throbbed and his vision dissolved into blackness before receding a second later, leaving him exhausted and dizzy. Merlin's hand went to his temple, in an attempt to steady himself, his other hand resting on the table.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked. He'd gotten to his feet too.

Merlin did his best to wave him off. His eyes shifted toward a fourth-year girl seated by the main fire, wrapped in her winter cloak, holding a cup of tea, and steaming slightly from the ears. Theodore had sported a similar look just a few days ago.

"I think I caught that flu that's going around," Merlin said after a moment. Or at least, he hoped he had.

"Maybe you should go see Snape."

Merlin blinked. "Why?"

Draco gave him a look. "To get a potion?" he said, and he shook his head. "He'll cause less fuss than Madam Pomfrey and he's closer."

Merlin had to admit, he had a point. While he didn't exactly want to smoke from the ears either, he had been feeling more sluggish than usual these past few days. He'd barely done any of his homework—though not for lack of trying. Merlin hesitated only a second longer before nodding, and heading out of the Slytherin common room.

He shivered in the corridor, folding his arms against his chest. No wonder everyone was getting sick—the castle was an icebox. Jolting himself to get moving again, Merlin set off down the corridor towards Snape's office, wishing that he'd thought to grab his cloak.

As usual, he didn't bother with the niceties of knocking, and instead pushed his way into Snape's office. The man in question was sitting behind his desk, a roaring fire behind him and a grade book open before him. He didn't look up when Merlin entered, though Merlin though he saw his lip twitch.

"Ah, here to turn in your homework at last?" Snape asked. He flipped the page and dipped his quill into the inkbottle. "You're two days overdue."

Merlin cringed. He'd completely forgotten about Snape's assignment. "Right…what was that homework again?"

Snape slammed his quill onto his desk. "Well, if you couldn't be bothered to pay attention in class," he spat "I hardly see why—" he trailed off when he looked up and saw Merlin standing before him. He paused then, "But perhaps this is a conversation for another time."

He must look worse than he'd thought. "I think I caught that flu that's going around."

His stomach clenched at the words—a voice in his head whispering that he'd been having these headaches for weeks now. He forced the thought away. There was no way he was still suffering the effects of the dementors. He wasn't that fragile! It was just a combination of stress and now this flu—that was all.

Snape surveyed him for another moment before nodding and getting to his feet. "I always expect cases this time of year," he said as he walked around his desk, "and stock up accordingly."

He pulled out a small vial from his cloak pocket. The contents were deep red, and seemed to froth slightly. He held it out to Merlin saying, "Pepper-Up Potion will make you steam from the ears, but it'll stop the flu in its tracks."

Merlin appraised the vial for a second before downing the contents. When he'd finished, he found that Snape was holding out a second vial for him. Merlin raised his eyebrow.

"I seem to recall that you require more than one dose."

Merlin blinked. "Right." How had he forgotten that? He took the second potion, and after a moment felt a swell of heat rise to his face, steam gushing from his ears. It tickled slightly, and his entire head felt suddenly heavy with warmth.

"Thanks," he said, and he started back toward the door.

"Don't think this means you're off the hook," Snape called after him. "I expect that essay on my desk before the end of the week."

"Right," Merlin said, waving vaguely back at him before stumbling into the corridor and shutting the door. It was only when he'd reached the common room that he realized that he still didn't have a clue what assignment Snape was talking about. He'd have to ask Draco or Hermione about it tomorrow. He certainly wasn't doing anything else tonight.

Blaise had taken Merlin's spot at the table, and both he and Draco waved to him as he headed toward the boy's dormitory. He waved back, tripping over his feet as he did so.

He heard Draco call, "You okay?" from across the room, though he seemed trying hard not to laugh.

"Oh yeah," Merlin said, giving a thumbs up without looking at them, and heading up the stairs towards his dormitory.

As it was still early, the place was deserted. Good. Merlin collapsed in his four-poster without bothering to change and fell asleep in seconds.

He was standing on the chessboard, a flume of white dust rising into the air before him. But there, within the particles falling back to the cracked marble surface, he saw him. Merlin could see his red eyes, illuminated in the gloom. They shone so brilliantly, the dust swirling around him turned blood red—until the entire room seemed to bleed.

Then a shadow fell over Merlin, and he looked up to see the knight chess-piece raising his broadsword. He brought it down, swinging hard at his head, heard the resounding crack of metal on bone—

Merlin woke with a start, and winced as his head was jostled. He lay there, still as he could, until the rise and fall of his chest evened. His face still felt hot, though the steam from his ears seemed to have dissipated. But when he looked past it, past his throbbing head, he felt the familiar tingle of magic at his fingertips.

Samhain had come once again.