Snape sat next to Morgan Emrys as he slept in the hospital bed at Hogwarts. It surprised him how worried that he was over this boy, especially for not knowing him for long. As soon as he collapsed in Diagon Alley, Snape rushed him to Hogwarts thinking it would be better here than at St. Mungo's for the boy. All that happened over a week ago, and the boy has yet to wake.

"Staring at him won't make him wake," Madam Pomfrey said, walking up from behind Snape.

"He looks like he's in pain," Snape said, looking at the form in the bed before him.

There was a thin sheen of sweat covering Emrys' scrunched-up face. He jerked every now and then and opened up his mouth as if to scream out, but no voice came.

"Isn't there something you can give him," Snape asked, turning to face the healer so he didn't have to see the suffering boy, who somehow unraveled Snape from the inside and made him care.

"I've given him everything I can think of," she said tiredly. "It's his own magic fighting the magic on the outside, making him like this. I don't know how to treat it because I've never seen or even heard anything like this happening before."

"There seems to be many mysteries surrounding young Morgan Emrys."

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what made Snape care. It wasn't him caring about the boy himself, but the unknowns of the boy, the mystery he presented. That was at least what Snape was trying to convince himself.

"No," Snape heard a soft whisper say. He and Madam Pomfrey turn to the boy. He was still asleep, but he was talking.

"I can't – I can't lose him," the boy said jerking in his sleep. "He's my friend."

"What has this boy been through," Madam Promfrey asked horrified.

"I don't know," Snape said slowly, his own mind turning over the information quickly trying to make sense of what he had just learned.

"My friend," the boy murmured again.

Dumbledore sat at his office desk going over some last-minute start-of-term paperwork when he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, glancing up to see Snape enter.

"Ah, Severus. Any change in the boy's condition?"

"He appears to be doing better, but Madam Pomfrey is still at a loss as to what is wrong with him in the first place. Also, it has been over a week and the boy has still yet to wake."

Dumbledore considered Severus' words. It was troubling indeed. He wasn't sure what to do, though. Poppy said that they could only wait for the boy's magic to sort itself out. There wasn't anything she could do to help him.

"Have you found anything else out about him?" Severus asked.

"I have not," Dumbledore answered truthfully. "You said that he mentioned having a father that was also magical, but there is no record of an Emrys anywhere in the Ministry's files. and I've checked twice. Also, there is the matter of his wand," he said, pulling it out of a drawer in his desk. He held it up for Severus to see as well. "I can neither find the marker of this wand nor what it was made of. It is a mystery just as much as the boy is."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Let him attend classes and learn here when he wakes. The term starts in about a week, if he is up and well by then, I see no reason to deny him an education. We'll just simply have to keep a closer eye on him and try to get him to open up to us. Is that a task that you can handle?"

"It is," Snape answered.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "Now, I have another matter I wish to speak to you about. What do you know about Nicholas Flamel's stone?"

Merlin opened his eyes and was once again greeted by an unfamiliar sight. The last thing that he remembered was standing on Diagon Alley. After that, it was all black. He sat up quickly, trying to make sense of his new surroundings and instantly regretted it. Even the slightest movement sent a fiery pain to rip through his body. Sitting up as quickly as he did made the pain amplify, causing him to clutch his head and groan. His groan must have been heard because Merlin could hear the footsteps of someone quickly approaching him.

"You're awake," a female voice said in a surprised tone.

"And really not loving my return to consciousness at the moment," Merlin said through gritted teeth, refusing to move from his hunched over position or open his eyes.

"Hold on," the voice said. Merlin heard footsteps briskly walk away only to return a moment later.

"Drink this," she said, taking one of his hands and placed a small glass bottle in it.

Without giving it a second thought, Merlin downed the bottle in one swig. The effects were almost immediate. He could feel the potion sweep through his body cooling the flames. It wasn't completely perfect, but Merlin felt a hell of a lot better than before.

"Thanks," Merlin said, handing back the empty bottle. Merlin looked at the lady for the first time and was greeted by the sight of a kind looking older lady that had a smile on her face.

"Feeling better now?" she asked.

"Much," Merlin answered. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, could you tell me who you are and where I am."

"You're at Hogwarts, dear. I'm Madam Pomfrey, the –"

"And how did I get here?"

"Professor Snape brought you here after you passed out while shopping. Do you remember anything?"

"I remember not feeling good. I can't remember anything after walking out of the Apothecary shop."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a concerned look.

"You've been out for quite a while," she said.

"How long?"

"Almost two weeks."

"Two weeks," Merlin shouted, jumping up.

"Yes, two weeks," Pomfrey said sternly. "Now you need to calm down and sit. I still haven't the faintest idea what got your magic to act all up enough to put you in a coma in the first place."

"My magic," Merlin questioned, slightly afraid now. He knew that his magic felt off whenever he arrived here. It wasn't that bad until he stepped into Diagon Alley. It felt like the magic surrounding him was different and clashing horribly with the magic inside of him. The only thing Merlin could think of would cause this was that magic had changed so much over the centuries, that it was a shock to Merlin's system and going to a place where this new magic was concentrated so heavily, it forced his magic to assimilate too quickly and overwhelmed him.

"Well, I'm better now," Merlin said, getting out of the bed only to sway, his vision swimming. He grabbed the edge of the bed for support, silently willing himself to stay upright.

"You will lay back down," Pomfrey said, forcing him back into the bed. She put her hand on his shoulders and got him to lay back down.

"But this is that school, right?" Merlin protested. "I'm supposed to go to class to learn magic."

"The term doesn't start for another few days, so there is no need to worry."

She yanked the covers back over him.

"What am I supposed to do until then?"

Snape walked outside to see Morgan Emrys standing next to the carriages that were to be bringing all of the students minus the first year from the train to Hogwarts later that day. Since the time Emrys woke up, the boy seemed to develop a habit of sneaking out of the Hospital Wing and wandering around the school. Madam Pomfrey was none too happy about this, but it didn't deter the boy from continuing to do it. Snape caught him many times walking the halls alone, having conversations with the portraits, talking with some other Professors, or even talking to Dumbledore himself. He would give no one any new information about himself, though. Well, no information of great importance.

Right now, the boy was alone.

"Curious looking creatures," Emrys said as Snape approached him. "I've never seen anything quite like them."

"You can see them?" Snape asked even though he already knew the answer.

"I have eyes, do I not," Emrys answered with a cheeky smile on his face, something Snape was begrudging getting used to. He watched as the boy approached one and started to pet it like it was just a regular horse. His hand caressed the leathery skin with delicacy.

"Many can't see them."

Emrys frowned at that. "That doesn't make any sense."

"They're thestrals. They can only be seen by those who have witnessed death," Snape explained.

Emrys froze, his hand slowly falling off the thestral down to his side. "Witnessed death as in…"

"Physically watched as someone dies," Snape said, studying the boy.

The boy's face was somber, and his eyes took on a faraway look as if his mind was not present but in the past.

"Who was it for you," Snape asked, letting his curiosity get the better of him for a moment. He also couldn't let this opportunity of learning something new pass by not taken.

Emrys looked up at him, his eyes watery. There was so much pain in them that it gave Snape a bit of a start. Emrys quickly looked away and back at the thestral in front of him. Hesitantly, he resumed petting it again, his hand shacking slightly.

"The first one," he began, "was, I guess, Thomas Collins. I didn't even know him, and his mother..." His voice dropped off, taking his face further down with him.

Snape's mind latched on to what he said. 'The first one'. How many deaths did this boy witness? By the look on his face, Snape guessed that it was many.

"I, um, have to go," Emrys said, interrupting Snape from his thoughts. "I haven't eaten lunch yet, and Pomfrey will be angry if I don't eat soon." He paused. "She's scary when she is angry," he said in an attempt to add some humor. Whether who the boy's sake or for Snape's, he didn't know.

Snape numbly nodded his head, and they boy ran off, leaving Snape alone with the thestrals and his thoughts. The look in the boy's eye a moment ago definitely told him that it was many people who he had watched die, but Snape had no clue as to how many and how this came to be. The boy was barely over ten years old. What could he have gone through to feel this much emotional pain?

Merlin was standing next to a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes whom he had come to know as McGonagall. She had a very stern face, but Merlin knew beneath that she was a very kind and caring woman. She was still someone you wouldn't want to cross, though. The door swung open at once, revealing Hagrid, another employee at Hogwarts that Merlin had become well acquainted with during his stay.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, a large crowd of students behind him. Merlin could see that they were all his physical age.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide, and they all followed her and Merlin across the flagged stone floor. They passed the doorway where Merlin saw all of the older students enter and were directed into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowed in, standing rather closer together then they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Merlin already felt like a bit of an outcast having not arrive with them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said before launching into a speech about things that Merlin already knew. He listened nevertheless. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on a brown-haired boy's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and the smudged nose of a redhead. Merlin didn't worry. He already knew that he looked fine, well, as fine as his usual big-eared, messy haired self.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said McGonagall before swiftly leaving.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" someone near Merlin asked nervously.

"Some sort of test, I think," the redhead said. "My brother, Fred, said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Merlin looked around to see many scared and nervous faces, not doubt worrying over this 'test', so he decided to intervene.

"Actually, you just have to put on a hat, and it will sort you," he said, drawing many people's attention to himself. "It's completely painless."

"How do you know that?" the redhead asked both suspiciously and relieved.

"I was told that is how the sorting is done. I've even seen the hat myself. It's just a harmless, very dirty, patched-up, black hat."

"How did you see it already," the same boy asked.

"Wait," a bushy-haired girl said, stepping into the conversation. "You weren't on the train coming here." She said it more as a statement of fact than a question. Merlin mentally sighed. He has hoped that no one would have noticed.

"Hermione is right," the redhead said. "You were waiting with Professor McGonagall when we came in. What? Do you have a parent that works here or something? Or are you too good to go on the train?"

Merlin was cut off by several people screaming behind him before he even got to respond. He looked around the see that about twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years.

Merlin remembered when he first came across the Hogwarts' ghosts. He practically had a panic attack thinking that they were the dorocha. It took half an hour for one of the Professors that happened to pass by to calm his raging eleven-year-old emotions down enough for it to be explained to him that these ghosts were completely harmless. Since then, he has gotten to know some of the ghosts pretty well, even if he is still somewhat leery of them.

Right now, the ghosts seemed to be arguing. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and, you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost that Merlin had met before who was wearing ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. When nobody answered, Merlin spoke up.

"We're waiting for McGonagall to return so we can go to the Sorting Ceremony."

"New Students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "Thank you, Morgan. Are you feeling better?"

Merlin nodded before ducking his head in an attempt to ward off the curious stares of the other students. The Friar must have noticed it because he began talking to everyone else, drawing the attention away from Merlin.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Merlin was relieved that McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, some nodding their head to Merlin.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Taking a deep breath, Merlin got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with the redhead boy behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Merlin had seen the Great Hall before, but not like this. Before it was empty, making it impressive, but not as jaw dropping as it was now. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candle light. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Merlin looked upwards to see his favorite part of the room. The ceiling was velvety black and dotted with stars. He heard the bush-haired girl – Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Merlin smiled. He liked that it looked as if there wasn't a ceiling at all and instead just simply opened on to the heavens. Things like this made him so grateful to have magic.

Merlin quickly looked down again as McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed hat – the Sorting Hat.

For a few second, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing. The song basically explained how the sorting happened and what qualities each house represented. Merlin already knew about each house having spoken to many of the ghosts and some of the professors beforehand. He wasn't sure what house he would be put in, though. He could be put in Slytherin. He wouldn't have been able to survive all those years in Camelot as an undiscovered warlock is he weren't cunning. Despite what Arthur thought, he was not an idiot, so he could probably make it in Ravenclaw. Gryffindor wouldn't be a bad place for him. He may be too much of a coward when it came it exposing his magic and true self, but he was brave, risking his life so many times for other people. He was also extremely loyal and very hardworking, giving him a good spot in Hufflepuff.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

McGonagall now stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put the hat on and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said before calling the first name. With each name that she called, one of the first years would walk up, sit on the stool, and put the hat on. A few second to a few minutes later, the hat then would announce a house, and all the students of that house would clap as the first year made his or her way over to the appropriate table.

In no time at all, Merlin's name was called.

"Emrys, Morgan!"

Merlin stepped forward and sat on the stool. Soon the view of a hall full of people staring expectantly up at him was replaced by the black inside of the hat.

"You don't belong in this time, do you?" a small voice said in his ear.

"Tell me about it," Merlin muttered. "Wait!"

"Relax, your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks," he whispered a bit uncertain. "Can you tell me why I am here, what I am supposed to be doing?"

"It is not my place to share that with you. Just know that you have a great destiny ahead of you, at it is not something that you have to go at alone."

"Great. You're just as helpful as Kilgharrah," Merlin whispered, half-jokingly, half bitterly. "Can you at least sort me already?"

"That is something else I cannot do."

"What? You've been sorting everyone else just fine."

"That is true, but those children just possess magic. You are magic itself, direct from the Old Religion. I cannot pass judgment on the Old Religion."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Choose which one you want to be placed in."

Merlin tilted his head up so that he could see a thin sliver of the Great Hall. He looked at the long tables filled with students, considering each of them. His eyes fell to the Gryffindor table. The Gryffindor house reminded him of the Round Table Knights and more importantly Arthur. The house color and traits fit them so perfectly that it made Merlin's chest ache.

"I see you have made your choice," the voice said into his ear.

Merlin didn't even need to nod for the hat to know his answer.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

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